Wit Without Money; A Comedy: The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher — John Shaqi
Wit Without Money; A Comedy: The Works of Francis Beaumont and John FletcherFletcher, John
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Wit Without Money; A Comedy: The Works of Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher
Fletcher, John
Comedy plays; English drama -- 17th century
_Lan._ Let him alone, and feed your self on your own fortunes; come
be frolick, and let's be monstrous wise and full of counsel, drop no
more Rings. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Widow, Fountain, Bellamore, Harebrain.
_Wid._ If you will needs be foolish you must be used so: who sent
for you? who entertained you Gentlemen? who bid you welcom hither? you
came crowding, and impudently bold; press on my patience, as if I kept a
house for all Companions, and of all sorts: will 'have your wills, will
vex me and force my liking from you I ne're ow'd you?
_Fount._ For all this we will dine with you.
_Bel._ And for all this will have a better answer from you.
_Wid._ You shall never, neither have an answer nor dinner, unless
you use me with a more staid respect, and stay your time too.
_Enter_ Isabella, Shorthose, Roger, Humphrey, Ralph, _with dishes
of meat_.
_Isab._ Forward with the meat now.
_Rog._ Come Gentlemen, march fairly.
_Short._ _Roger_, you are a weak Serving-man, your white
broath runs from you; fie, how I sweat under this Pile of Beef; an
Elephant can do more! Oh for such a back now, and in these times, what
might a man arrive at! Goose, grase you up, and Woodcock march behinde
thee, I am almost foundred.
_Wid._ Who bid you bring the meat yet? away you knaves, I will not
dine these two hours: how am I vext and chafed! go carry it back and
tell the Cook, he's an arrant Rascal, to send before I called.
_Short._ Face about Gentlemen, beat a mournfull march then, and
give some supporters, or else I perish--
[_Exeunt_ Servants.
_Isab._ It does me much good to see her chafe thus.
_Hare._ We can stay Madam, and will stay and dwell here, 'tis good
Air.
_Fount._ I know you have beds enough, and meat you never want.
_Wid._ You want a little.
_Bel._ We dare to pretend no. Since you are churlish, we'l give you
Physick, you must purge this anger, it burns you and decays you.
_Wid._ If I had you out once, I would be at the charge of a
portcullis for you.
_Enter_ Valentine.
_Val._ Good morrow noble Lady.
_Wid._ Good morrow Sir. How sweetly now he looks, and how full
manly! what slaves were these to use him so!
_Val._ I come to look a young man I call Brother.
_Wid._ Such a one was here Sir, as I remember your own Brother, but
gone almost an hour agoe.
_Val._ Good ee'n then.
_Wid._ You must not so soon Sir, here be some Gentlemen, it may be
you are acquainted with 'em.
_Hare._ Will nothing make him miserable?
_Fount._ How glorious!
_Bel._ It is the very he, does it rain fortunes, or has he a
familiar?
_Hare._ How doggedly he looks too?
_Fount._ I am beyond my faith, pray let's be going.
_Val._ Where are these Gentlemen?
_Wid._ Here.
_Val._ Yes I know 'em, and will be more familiar.
_Bel._ Morrow Madam.
_Wid._ Nay stay and dine.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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