The Actors Names.
- Tom Lurcher.
- Jack Wildbrain.
- Gentlemen.
- Justice Algripe.
- Frank Hartlove.
- Toby.
- Servants.
- Sexton.
- Bell-Ringers.
- Boy.
- A Lady, Mother to Maria.
- Maria.
- Nurse.
- Mistriss Newlove.
- Women.
- Mistriss.
Actus Primus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Tom Lurcher, and Jack Wild-brain.
Lur. JAck.
Wild. What wind brought thee hither?
In what [old] hollow tree, or rotten wall
Hast thou been like a Swallow all this winter,
Where hast thou been man?
Lur. Following the Plow.
Wild. What Plow? Thou hast no Land,
Stealing is thy own purchase.
Wild. Not in my opinion,
Thou hadst five hundred pound a year.
Lur. 'Tis gone,
Prethee no more on't, have I not told thee,
And oftentimes, nature made all men equal,
Her distribution to each child alike;
Till labour came and thrust a new Will in,
Which I allow not: till men won a priviledge
By that they call endeavour, which indeed
Is nothing but a lawful Cosenage,
An allowed way to cheat, why should my neigh[bou]r
That hath no more soul than his Horse-keeper,
Nor bounteous faculties above a Broom-man,
Have forty thousand pounds, and I four groats;
Why should he keep it?
Wi[l]. Thy old opinion still.
Lur. Why should that Scrivener,
That ne'er writ reason in his life, nor anything
That time e'ver gloried in, that never knew
How to keep any courtesie conceal'd,
But Noverint Universi must proclaim it,
Purchase perpetually, and I a rascal:
Consider this, why should that mouldy Cobler
Marry his Daughter to a wealthy Merchant,
And give five thousand pounds, is this good justice?
Because he has a tougher constitution;
Can feed upon old Songs, and save his money,
Therefore must I go beg?
Wild. What's this to thee?
Thou canst not mend [it], if thou beest determin'd
To rob all like a Tyrant, yet take heed
A keener justice do not overtake thee,
And catch you in a Nooze.
Lur. I am no Wood-cock,
He that shall sit down frighted with that foolery
Is not worth pity, let me alone to shuffle,
Thou art for wenching.
Wild. For beauty I, a safe course,
No halter hangs in [my] way, I defie it.
Lur. But a worse fate, a wilful poverty,
For where thou gain'st by one that indeed loves thee,
A thousand will draw from thee, 'tis thy destiny;
One is a kind of weeping cross Jack,
A gentle Purgatory, do not fling at all,
You'll pay the Box so often, till you perish.
Wild. Take you no care for that sir, 'tis my pleasure,
I will imploy my wits a great deal faster
Than you shall do your fingers, and my loves,
If I mistake not, shall prove riper harvest
And handsomer, and come within less danger.
Where's thy young Sister?
Lur. I know not where she is, she is not worth caring for,
She has no wit.
Oh you'd be nibling with her,
She's far enough I hope, I know not where,
She's not worth caring for, a sullen thing,
She wou'd not take my counsel Jack,
And so I parted from her.
Wild. Leave her to her wants?
Lur. I gave her a little money, what I could spare,
She had a mind to th'Countrey, she is turn'd,
By this, some Farriers dairy maid, I may meet her
Riding from Market one day, 'twixt her Dorsers,
If I do, by this hand I wo'not spare
Her butter pence.
Wild. Thou wilt not rob thy Sister.
Lur. She shall account me for her Egs and Cheeses.
Wild. A pretty Girl, did not old Algripe love her?
A very pretty Girl she was.
Lur. Some such thing,
But he was too wise to fasten; let her pass.
Wild. Then where's thy Mistriss?
Lur. Where you sha'not find her,
Nor know what stuff she is made on; no indeed Sir,
I choose her not for your use.
Wild. Sure she is handsome.
Lur. Yes indeed is she, she is very handsome, but that's all one.
Wild. You'll come to th' Marriage?
Lur. Is it to day.
Wild. Now, now, they are come from Church now.
Lur. Any great preparation,
Does Justice Algripe shew his power?
Wild. Very glorious, and glorious people there.
Lur. I may meet with him yet e're I dye as cunning as he is.
Wild. You may do good Tom, at the [m]arriage,
We have plate and dainty things.
Lur. Do you no harm Sir;
For yet methinks the Marriage should be mar'd
If thou maist have thy will, farewell, say nothing. [Exit.
Enter Gentlemen.
Wild. You are welcome noble friends.
1. I thank you Sir,
Nephew to the old Lady, his name is Wildbrain,
And wild his best condition.
2. I have heard of him,
I pray ye tell me Sir, is young Maria merry
After her Marriage rites? does she look lively?
How does she like her man?
Wild. Very scurvily,
And as untowardly she prepares her self,
But 'tis mine Aunts will, that this dull mettal
Must be mixt with her to allay her handsomeness.
1. Had Heartlove no fast friends?
Wild. His means are little,
And where those littles are, as little comforts
Ever keep company: I know she loves him,
His memory beyond the hopes of ——
Beyond the Indies in his mouldy Cabinets,
But 'tis her unhandsome fate.
Enter Heartlove.
1. I am sorry for't,
Here comes poor Frank, nay we are friends, start not Sir,
We see you'r willow and are sorry for't,
And though it be a wedding we are half mourners.
Fr. Good Gentlemen remember not my fortunes,
They are not to be help'd by words.
Wild. Look up man,
A proper sensible fellow and shrink for a wench?
Are there no more? or is she all the handsomness?
Fr. Prethee leave fooling.
Wild. Prethee leave thou whining,
Have maids forgot to love?
Fr. You are injurious.
Wild. Let 'em alone a while, they'll follow thee.
1. Come good Frank.
Forget now, since there is no remedy,
And shew a merry face, as wise men would do.
2. Be a free guest, and think not of those passages.
Wild. Think how to nick him home, thou knowst she dotes on thee
Graff me a dainty medler on his crabstocke;
Pay me the dreaming puppy.
Fr. Well, make your mirth, the whilst I bear my misery:
Honest minds would have better thoughts.
Wild. I am her Kinsman,
A[n]d love her well, am tender of her youth,
Yet honest Frank, before I would have that stinkard,
That walking rotten tombe, enjoy her maidenhead.
Fr. Prethee leave mocking.
Wild. Prethee Frank believe me,
Go to consider, hark, they knock to dinner. [Knock within.
Come wo't thou go?
2. I prethee Frank go with us,
And laugh and dance as we do.
Fr. You are light Gentlemen,
Nothing to weigh your hearts, pray give me leave,
I'll come and see, and take my leave.
Wild. We'll look for you,
Do not despair, I have a trick yet. [Exit.
Fr. [Yes,]
When I am mischievous I will believe your projects:
She is gone, for ever gone, I cannot help it,
My hopes and all my happiness gone with her.
Gone like a pleasing dream: what mirth and j[o]llity
Raigns round about this house! how every office
Sweats with new joyes, can she be merry too?
Is all this pleasure set by her appointment?
Sure she hath a false heart then; still they grow lowder,
The old mans God, his gold, has won upon her,
(Light hearted Cordial Gold) and all my services
That offered naked truth, are clean forgotten:
Yet if she were compell'd, but it cannot be,
If I could but imagine her will mine,
Although he had her body.
Enter Lady and Wildbrain.
La. He shall come in.
Walk without doors o'this day, though an enemy,
It must not be.
Wild. You must compel him Madam.
La. No she shall fetch him in, Nephew it shall be so.
Wild. It will be fittest. [Exit.
Fr. Can fair Maria look again upon me?
Can there be so much impudence in sweetness?
Enter Maria.
Or has she got a strong heart to defie me?
She comes her self: how rich she is in Jewels!
Methinks they show like frozen Isicles,
Cold winter had hung on her, how the Roses
That kept continual spring within her cheeks
Are withered with [the] old mans dull embraces!
She would speak to me. I can sigh too Lady
But from a sounder heart: yes, and can weep too
But 'tis for you, that ever I believ'd you,
Tears of more pious value than your marriage;
You would encase your self, and I must credit you,
So much my old obedience compels from me;
Go, and forget me, and my poverty,
I need not bid you, you are too perfect that way:
But still remember that I lov'd Maria,
Lov'd with a loyal love, nay turn not from me,
I will not ask a tear more, you are bountiful,
Go and rejoyce, and I will wait upon you
That little of my life left.
Mar. Good Sir hear me,
What has been done, was the act of my obedience
And not my will: forc'd from me by my parents,
Now 'tis done, do as I do, bear it handsomly
And if there can be more society
Without dishonor to my tye of marriage
Or place for noble love, I shall love you still,
You had the first, the last, had my will prosper'd;
You talk of little time of life: dear Frank,
Certain I am not married for eternity,
The joy my marriage brings tells me I am mortal.
And shorter liv'd than you, else I were miserable;
Nor can the gold and ease his age hath brought me
Add what I coveted, content; go with me,
They seek a day of joy, prethee let's show it,
Though it be forc'd, and by this kiss believe me
However, I must live at his command now,
I'll dye at yours.
Fr. I have enough, I'll honor ye. [Exeunt.
Enter Lurcher.
Lur. Here are my trinkets, and this lusty marriage
I mean to visit, I have shifts of all sorts,
And here are a thousand wheels to set 'em working,
I am very merry, for I know this wedding
Will yield me lusty pillage: if mad Wildgoose
That debosh'd rogue keep but his antient revels,
And breed a hubbub in the house I am happy.
Enter Boy.
Now what are you?
Boy. A poor distressed Boy, Sir,
Friendless and comfortless, that would intreat
Some charity and kindness from your worship,
I would fain serve, Sir, and as fain endeavour
With duteous labour to deserve the love
Of that good Gentleman should entertain me.
Lur. A pretty Boy, but of too mild a breeding,
Too tender, and too bashful a behaviour,
What canst thou do?
Boy. I can learn any thing,
That's good and honest, and shall please [Master.]
Lur. He blushes as he speaks, and that I like not,
I love a bold and secure confidence,
An impudence that one may trust, this boy now:
Had I instructed him, had been a Jewel,
A treasure for my use, thou canst not lye?
Boy. I would not willingly.
Lur. Nor thou hast not wit
To dissemble neatly?
Boy. Do you love such boys, Sir?
Lur. Oh mainly, mainly, I would have my Boy impudent,
Out-face all truth, yet do it piously:
Like Proteus, cast himself into all forms,
As suddain and as nimble as his thoughts,
Blanch at no danger, though it be the Gallows,
Nor make no conscience of a cosenage,
Though it be i' th' Church. Your soft, demure, still children—
Are good for nothing, but to get long Graces——
And sing Songs to dull tunes; I would keep thee
And cherish thee, hadst thou any active quality,
And be a tender Master to thy knavery,
But thou art not for my use.
Bo[y]. Do you speak this seriously?
Lur. Yes indeed do I.
Boy. Would you have your boy Sir
Read in these moral mischiefs?
Lur. Now thou mov'st me.
Boy. And be a well-train'd youth in all activities?
Lur. By any means.
Boy. Or do you this to try me,
Fearing a prone[nesse].
Lur. I speak this to make thee.
Boy. Then take me Sir, and cherish me, and love me,
You have me what you would: believe me, Sir
I can do any thing for your advantage,
I guess at what you mean; I can lie naturally,
As easily, as I can sleep Sir, and securely:
As naturally I can steal too.
Lur. That I am glad on,
Right heartily glad on, hold thee there, thou art excellent.
Boy. Steal any thing from any body living.
Lur. Not from thy Master.
Boy. That's mine own body:
And must not be.
Lur. The boy mends mightily.
Boy. A rich man, that like snow heaps up his moneys,
I have a kind of pious zeal to meet still;
A fool that not deserves 'em, I take pitty on,
For fear he should run mad, and so I ease him.
Lur. Excellent boy, and able to instruct me,
Of mine own nature just.
Boy. I scorn all hazard,
And on the edge of danger I do best, Sir,
I have a thousand faces to deceive,
And to those, twice so many tongues to flatter,
An impudence, no brass was ever tougher,
And for my conscience.
Lur. Peace, I have found a Jewel,
A Jewel all the Indies cannot match,
And thou sha't feel—
Boy. This title, and I ha' done, Sir;
I never can confess, I ha' that spell on me;
And such rare modesties before a Magistrate,
Such innocence to catch a Judge, such ignorance.
Lur. I'll learn of thee, thou art mine own, come boy,
I'll give thee action presently.
Boy. Have at you.
Lur. What must I call thee?
Boy. Snap, Sir.
Lur. 'Tis most natural,
A name born to thee, sure thou art a Fairy,
Shew but thy skill, and I shall make thee happy.
Enter Lady, Nurse, Mistriss, Newlove, Tobie.
La. Where be these knaves? who strues up all the liveries.
Is the Bride's bed made?
Tob. Yes Madam and a Bell
Hung under it artificially.
La. Out knave, out,
Must we have 'larms now?
Tob. A little warning
That we may know [when] to begin our healths Madam;
The Justice is a kind of old Jade, Madam,
That will go merriest with a Bell.
La. All the house drunk.
Tob. This is a [day] of Jubile.
La. Are the best hangings up? and the Plate set out?
Who makes the Posset, Nurse?
Nur. The dayrie mayd,
And she'll put that in, will make him caper:
Well Madam, well, you might ha'chose another,
A handsomer for your years.
La. Peace, he is rich Nurse,
He is rich, and that's beauty.
Nur. I am sure he is rotten,
Would he had been hang'd when he first saw her. Termagant!
La. What an angry Quean is this, where,
Who looks to him?
Tob. He is very merry Madam,
M. Wildbrain, has him in hand, ith'bottom o'th'Sellar
He sighs and tipples.
Nur. Alass good Gentleman,
My heart's sore for thee.
La. Sorrow must have his course, sirra,
Give him some Sack to dry up his remembrance,
How does the Bridegroom, I was afraid of him.
Nur. He is a trim youth to be tender of, hemp take him.
Must my sweet new blown Rose find such a winter
Before her spring be near.
La. Peace, peace, thou art foolish.
Nur. And dances like a Town-top: and reels, and hobbles.
La. Alass, good Gentleman, give him not much wine.
Tob. He shall ha'none by my consent.
La. Are the women comforting my daughter?
New. Yes, yes, Madam,
And reading to her a pattern of true patience,
They read and pray for her too.
Nur. They had need,
Ye had better marry her to her grave a great deal:
There will be peace and rest, alass poor Gentlewoman,
Must she become a Nurse now in her tenderness?
Well Madam, well my heart bleeds.
La. Thou art a fool still.
La. And an old fool to be vext thus.
'Tis late she must to bed, go knave be merry,
Drink for a boy, away to all your charges. [Exit.
Enter Wildbrain, and Franck Heartlove.
Wild. Do as thou wo't, but if thou dost refuse it
Thou art the stupid'st ass, there's no long arguing,
Time is too precious Frank.
Fr. I am hot with wine.
And apt now to believe, but if thou dost this
Out of a villany, to make me wrong her,
As thou art prone enough.
Wild. Does she not love thee?
Did she not cry down-right e'n now to part with thee?
Had she not swounded if I had not caught her?
Canst thou have more?
Fr. I must confess all this.
Wild. Do not stand prating, and misdoubting, casting,
If she go from thee now, she's lost for ever;
Now, now she's going, she that loves thee going,
She whom thou lov'st.
Fr. Pray let me think a little.
Wild. There is no leisure; think when thou hast imbrac'd her
Can she imagine thou di[d]st ever honor her?
Ever believe thy oaths, that tamely suffer'st
An old dry ham of horse-flesh to enjoy her?
Enjoy her maiden-head; take but that from her
That we may tell posterity a man had it,
A handsome man, a Gentleman, a young man,
To save the honor of our house, the credit,
'Tis no great matter I desire.
Fr. I hear you.
Wild. Free us both from the fear of breeding fools
And ophs, got by this shadow: we talk too long.
Fr. She is going [now] to bed, among the women,
What opportunity can I have to meet her?
Wild. Let me alone, hast thou a will? speak soundly,
Speak discreetly, speak home and handsomly,
Is't not pitty, nay misery, nay infamy to leave
So rare a pie to be cut up by a raskal.
Fr. I will go presently, now, now, I stay thee.
Wild. Such a dainty Doe, to be taken
By one that knows not neck-beef from a Phesant,
Nor cannot rellish Braggat from Ambrosia.
Is it not conscience?
Fr. Yes, yes, now I feel it.
Wild. A meritorious thing.
Fr. Good Father Wildgoose,
I do confess it.
Wild. Come then follow me.
And pluck a mans heart up, I'll lock thee privately,
Where she alone shall presently pass by,
None near to interupt thee but be sure.
Fr. I shall be sure enough, lead on, and crown me.
Wild. No wringings in your mind now as you love me. [Ex.
Enter Lady, Maria, Justice, Gent. Nurse, Newlove.
La. 'Tis time you were a bed.
Ju. I prethee sweet-heart
Consider my necessity, why art sad?
I must tell you a tale in your ear anon.
Nur. Of Tom Thumb.
I believe that will prove your stiffest story.
New. I pitty the young wench.
1. And so do I too.
2. Come, old sticks take fire.
1. But the plague is, he'll burn out instantly;
Give him another cup.
2. Those are but flashes,
A tun of sack wonot set him high enough.
Will ye to bed?
M. I must.
1. Come, have a good heart,
And win him like a bowle to lye close to you,
Make your best use.
Ju. Nay prethee Duck go instantly,
I'll dance a Jig or two to warm my body.
Enter Wildbrain.
La. Prethee to bed Maria.
Wild. Go you afore, and let the Ladies follow,
And leave her to her thoughts a while, there must be
A time of taking leave of these same fooleries
Bewailling others maiden-heads.
La. Come then,
We'll wait in the next room.
Ju. Do not tarry.
For if thou dost, by my troth I shall fall asleep Mall. [Ex.
Wi[l]. Do, do, and dream of Doterels, get you to bed quickly,
And let us ha'no more stir, come now, no crying,
'Tis too late now, carry your sel[fe] discreetly.
The old thief loves thee dearly, that's the benefit.
For the rest you must make your own play, Nay not that way,
They'll pull ye all to pieces, for your whim-whams,
Your garters and your gloves, go modestly,
And privately steal to bed, 'tis very late Mall,
For if you go by them such a new larum.
Ma. I know not which way to avoid'em.
Wi. This way,
This through the Cloysters: and so steal to bed,
When you are there once, all will separate
And give ye rest, I came out of my pitty
To shew you this.
Ma. I thank you.
Wi. Here's the keyes,
Go presently and lock the doors fast after ye,
That none shall follow.
Ma. Good night.
Wi. Good night sweet Cosen.
A good, and sweet night, or I'll curse thee Frank. [Exit.
Enter Frank Hartlove
Fra. She stays long, sure young Wildgoose has abus'd me,
He has made sport wi'me, I may yet get out again,
And I may see his face once more, I ha'foul intentions,
But they are drawn on by a fouler dealing
Enter Maria.
Hark, hark, it was the door,
Something comes this way, wondrous still and stealing
May be some walking spirit to affright me.
Ma. Oh heaven my fortune.
Fr. 'Tis her voice, stay.
Ma. Save me,
Bless me you better powers.
Fr. I am no devil.
Ma. Y'are little better to disturb me now.
Fr. My name is Hartlove.
Ma. Fye, fye, worthy friend.
Fye noble Sir.
Fr. I must talk farther with ye,
You know my fair affection.
Ma. So preserve it,
You know I am married now, for shame be civiller,
Not all the earth shall make me.
Fr. Pray walk this way,
And if you ever lov'd me.
Ma. Take heed Frank
How you divert that love to hate, go home prethee.
Fr. Shall he enjoy that sweet?
Mar. Nay pray unhand me.
Fr. He that never felt what love was.
Ma. Then I charge you stand farther off.
Fr. I am tame, but let me walk wi'ye,
Talk but a minute.
Mar. So your talk be honest,
And my untainted honor suffer not,
I'll walk a turn or two.
Fr. Give me your hand then. [Exit.
Enter Wildbrain, Justice, Lady, Nurse, Gent. Women, Newlove.
Just. Shee's not in her Chamber.
La. She is not here.
Wild. And I'll tell you what I dream'd.
Ju. Give me a Torch.
1. G. Be not too hasty Sir.
Wild. Nay let him go.
For if my dream be true he must be speedy,
He will be trickt, and blaz'd else.
Nur. As I am a woman
I cannot blame her if she take her liberty,
Would she would make thee Cuckold, thou old bully,
A notorious cuckold for tormenting her.
La. I'll hang her then.
Nur. I'll bless her then, she does justice,
Is this old stinking dogs-flesh for her dyet?
Wild. Prethee honest Nurse do not fret too much,
For fear I dream you'll hang your self too.
Just. The Cloister?
Wild. Such was my fancy, I do not say 'tis true,
Nor do I bid you be too confident.
Ju. Where are the keyes, the keyes I say.
Wild. I dream'd she had 'em to lock her self in.
Nur. What a devil do you mean?
Enter [Ser]vant.
Wild. No harm, good Nurse be patient.
Ser. They are not in the window, where they use to be.
Wild. What foolish dreams are these?
Ju. I am mad.
Wild. I hope so,
If you be not mad, I'll do my best to m[ake y]e.
1. This is some trick.
2. I smell the Wildgoose.
Ju. Come Gentlemen, come quickly I beseech you,
Quick as you can, this may be your case Gentlemen.
And bring some light, some lights. [Exit.
Wild. Move faster, faster, you'll come too late else.
I'll stay behind and pray for ye, I had rather she were dishonest
Than thou shouldst have her.
Enter Maria, and Franke.
Mar. Y'are most unmanly, yet I have some breath left;
And this steel to defend me, come [not] near me,
For if you offer but another violence,
As I have life I'll kill you, if I miss that,
Upon my own heart will I execute,
And let that fair belief out, I had of you.
Fr. Most vertuous Maid, I have done, forgive my follies:
Pardon, O pardon, I now see my wickedness,
And what a monstrous shape it puts upon me,
On your fair hand I seal.
Enter Ju.
Ju. Down with the door.
Ma. We are betraid, oh Frank, Frank.
Fr. I'll dye for ye
Rather than you shall suffer, I'll— [Enter all.
Ju. Now enter.
Enter sweet Gentlemen, mine eyes, mine eyes,
Oh how my head [a]kes.
1. Is it possible?
2. Hold her, she sinks.
Ma. A plot upon my honor
To poyson my fair name, a studied villany,
Farewell, as I have hope of peace, I am honest.
Ju. My brains, my brains, my monstrous brains, they bud sure.
Nu. She is gone, she is gone.
Ju. A handsome riddance of her.
Would I could as easily lose her memory.
Nur. Is this the sweet of Marriage, have I bred thee
For this reward?
1. Hold, hold, he's desperate too.
Ju. Be sure ye hold him fast, we'll bind him over
To the next Sessions, and if I can, I'll hang him.
Fr. Nay then I'll live to be a terror to thee,
Sweet Virgin Rose farewell: heaven has thy beauty,
That's only fit for heaven. I'll live a little
To find the Villain out that wrought this injury,
And then most blessed soul, I'll climb up to thee.
Farewell, I feel my self another creature. [Exit.
La. Oh misery of miseries.
Nu. I told ye Madam.
La. Carry her in, you will pay back her portion?
Ju. No not a penny, pay me back my credit,
And I'll condition wi'ye.
La. A sad wedding,
Her grave must be her Bridal bed: oh Mall,
Would I had wed thee to thy own content,
Then I had had thee still.
Ju. I am mad, farewell,
Another wanton wife will prove a hell. [Exeunt.
Actus Secundus.
Enter Tom. Lurch, and his Boy.
Lur. WHat hast thou done?
Boy. I have walked through all the lodgings.
A silence as if death dwelt there inhabits.
Lur. What hast thou seen?
Boy. Nought but a sad confusion
Every thing left in such a loose disorder
That were there twenty theeves, they would be laden.
Lu. 'Tis very well, I like thy care, but 'tis strange
A wedding night should be so solitary.
Boy. Certainly there is some cause, some death or sickness
Is faln suddenly upon some friend,
Or some strange news is come.
Lu. Are they all a bed?
Boy. I think so, and sound asleep, unless it be
Some women that keep watch in a low parlor,
And drink, and weep, I know not to what end.
Lur. Where's all the plate?
Boy. Why lockt up in that room.
I saw the old Lady, ere she went to bed
Put up her plate, and some of the rich hangings
In a small long chest, and chains and rings are there too,
It stands close by the Table on a form.
Lur. 'Twas a good notice, didst thou see the men.
Boy. I saw them sad too, and all take their leaves,
But what they said I was too far to hear Sir.
Lur. 'Tis daintily discover'd, we shall certainly
Have a most prosperous night, which way?
Boy. A close one,
A back door, that the women have left open,
To go in and out to fetch necessaries,
Close on the Garden side.
Lur. I love [thy] diligence,
Wert thou not fearful?
Boy. Fearful? I'll be hang'd first.
Lur. Say they had spied thee.
Boy. I was then determin'd
To have cry'd down right too, and have kept 'em company,
As one that had an interest in their sadness,
Or made an errand to I know not whom Sir.
Lur. My dainty Boy, let us discharge, that plate
Makes a perpetual motion in my fingers,
Till I have fast hold of it.
Boy. Pray be wise Sir, do't handsomly, be not greedy,
Lets handle it with such an excellence
As if we would bring thieving into honor:
We must disguise, to fright these reverend wat[ch]es.
Lur. Still my blest Boy.
Boy. And clear the room of drunken jealousies,
The chest is of some weight, and we may make
Such noise [ith] carriage we may be snap'd.
Lur. Come open, here's a devils face.
Boy. No, no, Sir, wee'l have no shape so terrible,
We will not do the devil so much pleasure,
To have him face our plot.
Lur. A winding sheet then.
Boy. That's too cold a shift,
I would not wear the reward of my wickedness,
I wonder you are an old thief, and no cunninger,
Where's the long Cloak?
Lur. Here, here.
Boy. Give me the Turbant
And the false beard, I hear some coming this way,
Stoop, stoop, and let me sit upon your shoulders,
And now as I direct, stay, let them enter,
And when I touch move forward, make no noise.
Enter Nurse and Tobie.
Nur. Oh 'tis a sad time, all the burnt wine is [drunke] Nic.
Tob. We may thank your dry chaps for't, the Canarie's gone too
No substance for a sorrowful mind to work upon,
I cannot mourn in beer, if she should walk now
As discontented spirits are wont to do.
Nur. And meet us in the Cellar.
Tob. What fence have we with single beer against her?
What heart can we defie the Devil with?
Nur. The March beer's open.
Tob. A fortification of March beer will do well,
I must confess 'tis a most mighty Armor,
For I presume I cannot pray.
Nur. Why Nicolas?
Tob. We Coachmen have such tumbling faiths, no prayrs
Can go an even pace.
Nur. Hold up your candle.
Tob. Verily Nurse, I have cry'd so much
For my young Mistriss, that is mortified,
That if I have not more sack to support me,
I shall even sleep: heiho, for another flagon;
These Burials, and Christnings are the mournful[st] matters,
And they ask more drink.
Nur. Drink to a sad heart's needful.
To. Mine's ever sad, for I am ever dry Nurse.
Nur. Methinks the light burns blew, I prethee snuff it,
There's a thief in't I think.
To. There may be one near it.
Nur. What's that that moves there, ith' name of——Nicholas?
That thing that walks.
T[o]. Would I had a Ladder to behold it,
Mercy upon me, the Ghost of one oth'Guard sure,
'Tis the devil by his clawes, he smels of Brimstone,
Sure he farts fire, what an Earth-quake I have in me;
Out with thy Prayer-book Nurse.
Nur. It fell ith' the frying pan, and the Cat's eat it.
Tob. I have no power to pray, it grows still longer,
'Tis Steeple high now, and it sayls away Nurse.
Lets call the butler up, for he speaks Latine,
And that will daunt the devil: I am blasted,
My belly's grown to nothing.
Nu. Fye, fye, Tobie. [Exit.
Boy. So let them go, and whilst they are astonish'd
Let us presently upon the rest now suddenly.
Lur. Off, off, and up agen, when we are near the parlor,
Art sure thou knowst the Chest?
Boy. Though it were ith'dark Sir,
I can go to't.
Lur. On then and be happy. [Exit.
Enter Tobie.
Tob. How my haunches quake, is the thing here still?
Now can I out-do any Button-maker, at his own trade,
I have fifteen fits of an Ague, Nurse, 'tis gone I hope,
The hard-hearted woman has left me alone. Nurse—
And she knows too I ha but a lean conscience to keep me company.
[Noise within.
The devil's among 'em in the Parlour sure,
The Ghost three stories high, he has the Nurse sure,
He is boyling of her bones now, hark how she whistles:
There's Gentlewomen within too, how will they do?
I'll to the Cook, for he was drunk last night,
And now he is valiant, he is a kin to th'devil too,
And fears no fire.
Enter Lurcher and Boy.
Lur. No light?
Boy. None left Sir,
They are gone, and carried all the candles with 'em,
Their fright is infinite, let's make good use on't,
We must be quick sir, quick, or the house will rise else.
Lu. Was this the Chest?
Boy. Yes, yes.
Lur. There was two of 'em.
Or I mistake.
Boy. I know the right, no stay Sir,
Nor no discourse, but to our labor lustily,
Put to your strength and make as little noise,
Then presently out at the back door.
Lur. Come Boy.
Come happy child and let me hug thy excellence. [Exit.
Enter Wildbrain.
Wild. What thousand noises pass through all the rooms!
What cryes and hurries! sure the devil's drunk.
And tumbles through the house, my villanies
That never made me apprehend before
Danger or fear, a little now molest me;
My Cosens death sits heavy o'my conscience,
Would I had been half hang'd when I hammer'd it.
I aim'd at a living divorce, not a burial
That Frank might have had some hope: hark still
In every room confusion, they are all mad,
Most certain all stark mad within the house,
A punishment inflicted for my lewdness,
That I might have the more sense of my mischief,
And run the more mad too, my Aunt is hang'd sure,
Sure hang'd her self, or else the fiend has fetch'd her.
I heard a hundred cryes, the Devil, the Devil,
Th[e]n roaring, and then tumbling, all the chambers
Are a meer Babel, or another Bedlam.
What should I think? I shake my self too:
Can the Devil find no time, but when we are merry,
Here's something comes.
Enter Newlove.
New. Oh that I had some company,
I care not what they were, to ease my misery,
To comfort me.
Wild. Whose that?
New. Again? nay then receive—
Wild. Hold, hold I am no fury.
The Merchants wife.
New. Are ye a man? pray heaven you be.
Wild. I am.
New. Alass I have met Sir
The strangest things to night.
Wild. Why do you stare.
New. Pray comfort me, and put your candle out,
For if I see the spirit again I dye for't.
And hold me fast, for I shall shake to pieces else.
Wild. I'll warrant you, I'll hold ye,
Hold ye as tenderly; I have put the light out,
Retire into my Chamber, there I'll watch wi'ye,
I'll keep you from all frights.
New. And will ye keep me.
Wild. Keep you as secure Lady.
New. You must not wrong me then, the devil will have us.
Wild. No, no, I'll love you, then the devil will fear us.
For he fears all that love, pray come in quickly,
For this is the malicious house he walks in,
The hour he blasts sweet faces, lames the limbs in,
Depraves the senses, now within this half hour
He will have power to turn all Citizens wives
Into strange Creatures, Owles, and long-tail'd Monkeys,
Jayes, Pies, and Parrots, quickly, I smell his brimstone.
New. It comes agen I am gone shift for your self Sir. [Exit.
Wild. Sure this whole night is nothing but illusion,
Here's nothing comes, all they are mad, damn'd devil
To drive her back again, 't had been thy policy
To have let us alone, we might have done some fine thing
To have made thy hel-hood laugh, 'tis a dainty wench,
If I had her again, not all your fellow goblins,
Nor all their clawes should scratch her hence, I'll stay still,
May be her fright will bring her back again,
Yet I will hope.
Enter Toby.
Tob. I can find no bed, no body, nor no chamber,
Sure they are all ith'Cellar, and I cannot find that neither,
I am led up and down like a tame ass, my light's out
And I grope up and down like blind-man-buffe,
And break my face, and break my pate.
Wild. It comes again sure
I see the shadow, I'll have faster hold now,
Sure she is mad, I long to lye with a mad-woman,
She must needs have rare new tricks.
Tob. I hear one whisper
If it be the devil now to allure me into his clutches,
For devils have a kind of tone like crickets.
[Wild.] I have a glimpse of her guise, 'tis she would steal [by] me,
But I'll stand sure.
Tob. I have but a dram of wit left,
And that's even ready to run, oh for my bed now.
Wild. She nam'd a bed, I like that, she repents sure,
Where is she now?
Tob. Who's that?
Wild. Are you there, In, In, In presently.
Tob. I feel his talents through me,
'Tis an old haggard devil, what will he do with me?
Wild. Let me kiss thee first, quick, quick.
Tob. A leacherous Devil.
Wild. What a hairy whore 'tis, sure she has a muffler.
Tob. If I should have a young Satan by him, for I dare not deny him,
In what case were I? who durst deliver me?
Wild. 'Tis but my fancy, she is the same, in quickly,
gently my Sweet girl.
Tob. Sweet devil be good to me. [Exeunt.
Enter Lurch, and Boy.
Lur. Where's my love, Boy.
Boy. She's coming with a Candle
To see our happy prize.
Lur. I am cruel weary.
Boy. I cannot blame ye, plate is very heavy
To carry without light or help.
Lur. The fear too
At every stumble to be discover'd boy,
At every cough to raise a Constable,
Well, we'll be merry now.
Boy. We have some reason;
Things compass'd without fear or eminent danger,
Are too luxurious sir to live upon.
Money and wealth got thus are as full venture,
And carry in their nature as much merit
As his, that digs 'em out 'oth' mine, they last too
Season'd with doubts and dangers most delitiously,
Riches that fall upon us are too ripe,
And dull our appetites.
Lu. Most learned child.
Enter Mistriss.
Mi. Y'are welcome, where have you left it.
Lu. In the next room, hard by.
Lu. All, all, and Jewels, I am monstrous weary,
Prethee let's go to bed.
Mi. Prethee lets see it first.
Lu. To morrow's a new day sweet.
Mi. Yes to melt it,
But let's agree to night, how it shall be handled,
I'll have a new gown.
Lur. 'Shat have any thing.
Mi. And such a riding suit as Mistress Newloves:
What though I be no Gentlewoman born,
I hope I may atchieve it by my carriage.
Lu. Thou sayst right.
Mi. You promis'd me a horse too, and a lackquay.
Lur. Thou shalt have horses six, and a postilion.
Mi. That will be stately sweet heart, a postilion.
Lu. Nay, we'll be in fashion; he shall ride before us
In winter, with as much dirt would dampe a musket;
The inside of our coach shall be of scarlet.
Mi. That will be dear.
Lu. There is a dye projecting
Will make it cheap, wench, come thou shalt have any thing.
Mi. Where is this chest, I long, sweet, to behold
Our Indies.
Boy. Mistress lets melt it first, and then 'tis fit
You should dispose it, then 'tis safe from danger.
Mi. I'll be a loving Mistress to my boy too.
Now fetch it in and lets rejoyce upon't.
Boy. Hold your light Mistress, we may see to enter.
Mi. Ha what's here? call you this a chest?
Boy. We ha mist Sir.
Our haste and want of light made us mistake.
Mi. A very Coffin.
Lu. How! a Coffin? Boy, 'tis very like one.
Boy. The devil ow'd us a shame, and now he has paid us.
Mi. Is this your Treasure?
Boy. Bury me alive in't.
Lu. It may be there is no room.
Mi. Nay, I will search it:
I'll see what wealth's within,—a womans face,
And a fair womans.
Boy. I cannot tell sir,
Belike this was the sadness that possest 'em;
The plate stood next, I'm sure.
Lur. I shake, I shake Boy, what a cold sweat—
Boy. This may work, what will become on's Sir?
Mi. She is cold, dead cold: de'e find 'your conscience,
De'e bring your Gillians hither—nay, she's punish'd,
You conceal'd love's cas'd up?
Lur. 'Tis Maria, the very same, the Bride, new horror!
Mi. These are fine tricks, you hope she's in a sound
But I'll take order she shall ne'r recover
To bore my Nose, come, take her up and bury her
Quickly, or I'll cry out; take her up instantly.
Lu. Be not so hasty fool, that may undo us;
We may be in for murther so; be patient,
Thou seest she's dead, and cannot injure thee.
Mi. I am sure she shall not.
Boy. Be not, Sir, dejected,
Too much a strange mistake! this had not been else,
It makes me almost weep to think upon't.
Lu. What an unlucky thief am I!
Mi. I'll no considering, either bestir your self, or—
Lu. Hold.
Mi. Let it not stay, to smell then, I will not
Indure the stink of a Rival.
Lu. Would 'twere there again.
Boy. We must bury her.
Lur. But were o'th sudden, or with what providence,
That no eyes watch us.
Mi. Take a Spade and follow me,
The next fair ground we meet, make the Church-yard;
As I live, I'll see her lodg'd. [Exit.
Lu. It must be so,
How heavy my heart is, I ha no life left.
Boy. I am past thinking too, no understanding,
That I should miss the right Chest.
Lu. The happy Chest.
Boy. That, which I saw and markt too.
Lu. Well passion wo'not help us,
Had I twenty falls for this!
Boy. 'Twas my fault sir.
And twenty thousand fears for this, oth'devil,
Now could I curse, well, we have her now,
And must dispose her.
Enter Mistress.
Mi. Hang both for two blind buzzards, here's a Spade
Quickly or I'll call the neighbors.
There's no remedy,
Would the poor hungry prisoners had this pastie. [Exeunt.
Enter Justice, and a Servant with a light.
Ser. 'Twas a strange mischance Sir.
Ju. Mischance, sayst? No 'twas happiness to me,
There's so much charge say'd, I have her portion,
I'll marry twenty more on such conditions.
Ser. Did it not trouble you Sir,
To see her dead?
Ju. Not much, I thank my conscience;
I was tormented till that happen'd, furies
Were in my brain to think my self a Cuckold
At that time of the night:
When I come home, I charge you shut my doors,
Locks, bolts, and bars, are little enough to secure me.
Ser. Why, and please you?
Ju. Fool to ask that question;
To keep out women, I expect her Mother
Will visit me with her clamors, oh I hate
Their noise, and do abhor the whole sex heartily;
They are all walking Devils, Harpyes: I will study
A week together how to rail sufficiently,
Upon 'em all, and that I may be furnish'd,
Thou shalt buy all the railing Books and Ballads,
That Malice hath invented against women,
I will read nothing else, and practise 'em,
Till I grow fat with curses.
Ser. If you'll go
To th'charge, let me alone to find you Books.
Ju. They come neer us.
Ju. Where? hold up the Torch Knave.
Ser. Did you hear nothing, 'tis a ——
Ju. Why dost make a stand?
Ser. Whats that?
Ju. Where, where, dost see any thing?
We are hard by the Church-yard, and I was never
Valiant at midnight in such irksome places;
They say Ghosts walk sometimes, hark, de'e hear nothing?
Enter Lurcher, Boy, and Mistress.
Mi. No farther, dig here, and lay her in quickly.
Lur. What light is that Boy, we shall be discover'd;
Set the Coffin up an end, and get behind me,
There's no avoiding.
Boy. Oh!
Ju. Where's that groan? I begin to be afraid.
Ser. What shall we do Sir?
Ju. We are almost at home now, thou must go forward,
Perhaps 'twas my imagination.
Lur. 'Tis he?
Boy. I know him too, let me alone.
Ser. Oh Sir, a Ghost, the very Ghost of Mistress Bride,
I have no power to run away.
Ju. Cursed Ghost, bless me, preserve me,
I do command thee what so ere thou art,
I do conjure thee leave me; do not fright me;
If thou beest a devil vex me not so soon,
If thou beest
The spirit of my wife.
Boy. Thy Wife.
Ju. I shall be tormented.
Boy. Thy abus'd wife, that cannot peaceably
Enjoy her death, thou hast an evil conscience.
Ju. I know it.
Boy. Among thy other sins which black thy soul,
Call to thy mind thy vow made to another,
Whom thou hast wrong'd, and make her satisfaction
Now I am dead, thou perjur'd man: or else
A thousand black tormentors shall pursue thee,
Untill thou leap into eternal flames;
Where gold which thou ador[e]'st here on earth
Melted, the fiends shall powre into thy throat;
For this time pass, go home and think upon me.
Lur. Away.
Ser. There are more spirits.
Ju. Thank you dear wife,
I'll bestow twenty nobles of a Tomb for thee,
Thou shalt not walk and catch cold after death. [They go Backward in.
Lu. So, so, they'r gone, 'twas my ingenious rascal:
But how dost thou know he made vows to another?
Boy. I over-heard the woman talk to night on't;
But now let's lose no time Sir, pray lets bury
This Gentlewoman, where's my Mistress?
Enter Mistress.
Mi. Here I durst not tarry.
Lu. We ha so cosen'd the old forty i'th hundred,
And the devil hinder him not, he'll go a pilgrimage;
But come, about our business, set her down again.
Mar. Oh!
Lur. She groans, ha.
Mar. Oh!
Lur. Again, she stirs.
Mi. Lets fly, or else we shall be torn in pieces.
Lur. And you be good at that, bury your self,
Or let the Sexton take ye for his fee,
Away boy. [Exit.
Mar. I am very cold, dead cold;
Where am I? What's this? a Coffin? where have I been?
Mercy defend me: Ha? I do remember
I was betray'd, and swounded, my heart akes,
I am wondrous hungry too, dead bodies eat not;
Sure I was meant for burial, I am frozen;
Death, 'like a cake of Ice dwells round about me;
Darkness spreads o're the world too, where? what path?
Best providence direct me. [Exit.
Actus Tertius.
Enter Lady, Wildbraine, Women, Toby.
La. THou art the most unfortunate fellow.
Wild. Why Aunt what have I done?
La. The most malicious varlet,
Thy wicked head never at rest, but hammering,
And ha[t]ching hellish things, and to no purpose,
So thou mayst have thy base will.
Wi. Why do you rail thus?
Cannot a scurvy accident fall out,
But I must be at one end on't?
La. Thou art at both ends.
Wi. Cannot young sullen wenches play the fools
And marry, and dye, but I must be the agent?
All that I did (and if that be an injury,
Let the world judge it) was but to perswade her,
And (as I take it) I was bound to it too,
To make the reverend coxcombe her husband Cuckold:
What else could I advise her? was there harm i'this?
You are of years, and have run through experience,
Would you be content if you were young again,
To have a continual cough grow to your pillow?
A rottenness, that vaults are perfumes to;
Hang in your roof, and like a fog infect you?
Anointed hammes, to keep his hinges turning,
Reek ever in your nose, and twenty night caps,
With twenty several sweats?
To. Some Jew, some Justice,
A thousand heathen smels to say truth Madam,
And would you mellow my young pretty Mistriss
In such a mis-ken?
La. Sirra,
Where's the body of my Girl?
Wi. I know not,
I am no Conjurer, you may look the body,
I was like to be stol'n away my self, the Spirit
Had like to ha surpris'd me in the shape of a woman,
Of a young woman, and you know those are dangerous.
To. So had I Madam, simply though I stand here,
I had been ravish'd too: I had twenty Spirits,
In every corner of the house a Fiend met me.
La. You lye like Raskals,
Was Mistriss Newlove such a spirit Sir?
To fright your worship;
Well, I discharge you Sir, y'are now at liberty,
Live where you please, and do what pranks you fancy,
You know your substance: though you are my Nephew,
I am no way bound Sir to protect your mischief;
So fare you well.
Wi. Farewell good Aunt, I thank you,
Adiew honest Nick, the devil if he have power,
Will persecute your old bones, for this Marriage,
Farewell Mistress Win.
To. And shall we part with dry lips?
Shall we that have been fellow devils together
Flinch for an old womans fart?
Wi. 'Tis a fine time a night too, but we must part Nick.
To. Shall we never ring again? ne'r toss the tenor,
And roul the changes [in] a Cup of Clarret?
You shall not want what ere I lay my hands on,
As I am sure Automedon the Coachman,
Shall be distributed; bear up, I say, hang sorrow,
Give me that bird abroad that lives at pleasure,
Sam the Butler's true, the Cook a reverend Trojan,
The Faulkner shall sell his Hawks, and swear they were rotten,
There be some wandring spoons, that may be met with,
I'll pawn a Coach horse, peace, utter no sentences.
The har[nesse] shall be us'd in our wars also;
Or shall I drive her (tell me but your will now,
Say but the word) over some rotten bridg,
Or by a Marl-pit side, she may slip in daintily,
Let me alone for my self.
Wi. No, no, farewell Toby,
Farewell spiny Nicholas, no such thing,
There be ways i'the world, if you see me
A day or two hence, may be wee'l crack a quart yet,
And pull a bell, commend to the houshold;
Nay, cry not Toby, 'twill make thy head giddy.
To. Sweet Master Wildbraine.
Wi. No more Toby, go the times may alter—
But where's the coarse of my dead cosen,
(If she be dead) I hop'd 'thad but dissembled
That sits heavy here: Toby, honest Toby,
Lend me thy Lanthorn, I forgot 'twas dark,
I had need look to my ways now.
To. Take a lodging with me to night in the Stable,
And ride away to morrow with one of the horses,
Next your heart, pray do.
Wi. No, good night good neighbor Toby, I will wander,
I scorn to submit my self, ere I have rambled,
But whither, or with what, that's more material;
No matter, and the worst come, it is but stealing,
And my Aunt wo'not see me hang'd for her own credit,
And farewel in a Halter costs me nothing. [Exit.
Enter Hartlove.
Fran. The night, and all the evil the night covers,
The Goblins, Haggs, and the black spawn of darkness,
Cannot fright me: no death, I dare thy cruelty.
For I am weary both of life and light too;
Keep my wits heaven, they say spirits appear
To melancholy minds, and the graves open,
I would fain see the fair Maria's shadow,
But speak unto her spirit e'er I dyed,
But ask upon my knees a mercy from her;
I was a villain, but her wretched kinsman,
That set his plot, shall with his heart-blood satisfie
Her injur'd life and honor, what light's this?
Enter Wildbrain with a Lanthorn.
Wild. It is but melancholy walking thus;
The Tavern doors are baracado'd too,
Where I might drink till morn in expectation;
I cannot meet the Watch neither; nothing in
The likeness of a Constable, whom I might,
In my distress, abuse, and so be carried,
For want of other lodging, to the Counter.
Fra. 'Tis his voice, Fate, I thank thee.
Wild. Ha, who's that, and thou be'st a man speak?
Frank Hartlove, then I bear my destinies,
Thou art the man of all the world I wish'd for;
My Aunt has turn'd me out a doors, she has,
At this unchristian hour, and I do walk,
Methinks like Guido Faux with my dark Lanthorn,
Stealing to set the Town a fire; i'th' Countrey
I should be tane for William o' the Wispe,
Or: Robin Good-fellow, and how dost Frank?
Ha. The worse for you.
Wild. Come, tha'rt a fool, art going to thy lodging?
I'll lie with thee to night, and tell thee stories,
How many devils we ha met withal;
Our house is haunted Frank, whole legions,
I saw fifty for my share.
Fr. Didst not fright 'em?
Wild. How; fright 'em? no, they frighted me sufficiently.
Fr. Thou hadst wickedness enough to make them stare,
And be afraid o' thee, malicious devil;
And draw thy sword, for by Maria's soul;
I will not let thee scape to do more mischief.
Wild. Thou art mad, what dost mean?
Fr. To kill thee, nothing else will ease my anger,
The injury is fresh, I bleed withal,
Nor can that word express it, theres no peace in't,
Nor must it be forgiven, but in death;
Therefore call up thy valour, if thou'st any.
And summon up thy spirits to defend thee;
Thy heart must suffer for thy damn'd practises,
Against thy noble cosin, and my innocence.
Wild. Hold, hear a word; did I do any thing
But for your good, that you might have her,
That in that desperate time I might redeem her,
Although with shew of loss.
Fr. Out ugly villain,
Fling on her the most hated name of whore
To the worlds eye, and face it out in courtesie,
Bring him to see't, and make me drunk to attempt it.
Enter Maria.
Ma. I hear some voices this way.
Fr. No more, if you can pray, do it as you fight.
Ma. What new frights oppose me? I have heard that tongue.
Wild. 'Tis my fortune.
You could not take me in a better time, Sir,
I ha nothing to lose but the love I lent thee,
My life my sword protect.
Ma. I know 'em both, but to prevent their ruines,
Must not discover—stay men most desperate;
The mischief you are forward to commit
Will keep me from my grave, and tie my spirit
To endless troubles else.
Wild. Ha, 'tis her Ghost.
Fr. Maria?
Ma. Hear me both, each wound you make
Runs through my soul, and is a new death to me,
Each threatening danger will affright my rest;
Look on me Hartlove, and my kinsman view me;
Was I not late in my unhappy marriage,
Sufficient miserable? full of all misfortunes?
But you must add, with your most impious angers,
Unto my sleeping dust this insolence?
Would you teach time to speak eternally
Of my disgraces; make Records to keep 'em,
Keep them in brass? fight then, and kill my honor;
Fight deadly both, and let your bloody swords,
Through my reviv'd, and reeking infamy
(That never shall be purg'd) find your own ruines:
Hartlove, I lov'd thee once, and hop'd again
In a more blessed love to meet thy spirit,
If thou kill'st him, thou art a murtherer,
And murther shall never inherit heaven:
My time is come, my concealed grave expects me,
Farewel, and follow not, your feet are bloody,
And will pollute my peace: I hope they are melted,
This is my way sure. [Exit.
Fr. Stay blessed soul.
Wi. Would she had come sooner, and ha sav'd some blood.
Fr. Dost bleed?
Wild. Yes certainly, I can both see and feel it.
Fr. Now I well hope it is not dangerous;
Give me thy hand, as [farre as] honor guides me,
I'll know thee again.
Wild. I thank thee heartily;
I know not where to get a Surgeon;
This vision troubles me, sure she is living,
And I was foolish blind, I could not find it;
I bleed apace still, and my heart grows heavy,
If I go far I faint, I'll knock at this house,
They may be charitable, would 'twere perfect day.
Enter Mistriss.
Mist. 'Tis not he: What would you, Sir?
Wild. I would crave a little rest Lady,
And for my hurts some Surgerie, I am a Gentleman
That fortune of a fight—
Mist. A handsome Gentleman,
Alas he bleeds, a very handsome Gentleman.
Wild. A sweet young wench, beshrew my heart a fair one;
Fortune has made me some recompence.
Mist. Pray come in, the air is hurtful for you,
Pray let me lead you, I'll have a bed for you presently,
I'll be your Surgeon too, alas sweet Gentleman.
Wild. I feel no hurts, the morning comes too fast now.
Mist. Softly, I beseech you. [Exit.
Enter Lady and Toby.
Tob. He is not up yet Madam, what meant you
To come forth so early?
La. You blockhead;
Your eyes are sow'd up still, they cannot see
When it is day: oh my poor Maria;
Where be the women?
Tob. They said they would follow us.
La. He shall not laugh thus at my misery,
And kill my child, and steal away her body,
And keep her portion too.
Tob. Let him be hang'd for't,
You have my voice.
La. These women not come yet?
A Son-in-law, I'll keep a Conjurer,
But I'll find out his knavery.
Tob. Do, and I'll help him.
And if he were here, this whip should conjure him,
Here's a Capias, and it catch hold on's breech,
I'de make him soon believe the Devil were there.
La. An old Usurer.
Tob. He married the money, that's all he lookt for;
For your daughter, let her sink or swim.
La. I'll swim him;
This is his house, I wonder they stay thus,
That we might rail him out on's wits.
Tob. They'll come,
Fear not Madam, and bring clappers with 'em,
Or some have lost their old wont, I have heard,
No disparagement to your Ladyship, some o' their tongues
Like Tom-a-Lincoln, three miles off.
La. Oh fie,
How tedious are they?
Tob. What and we lost no time,
You and I shall make a shift to begin with him,
And tune our Instruments till the Consort come
To make up the full noise, I'll knock.
Ju. Who's that rapt so saucily?
Tob. 'Tis I, Toby, come down, or else we'll fetch you down,
Alas, this is but the [Saunce] bell, here's a Gentlewoman
Will ring you another peal, come down, I say.
Ju. Some new fortifications, look to my doors,
Put double barrs, I will not have her enter,
Nor any of her Tribe, they come to terrifie me:
Keep out her tongue too, if you can.
La. I hear you,
And I will send my tongue up to your worship,
The eccho of it shall flye o'er the street;
My Daughter that thou killedst with kindness (Jew)
That thou betrayedst to death, thou double Jew,
And after stol'st her body.
Ju. I defie you both;
Thy daughter plaid the villain and betraid me.
Betrai'd my honor.
La. Honor, Rascal,
And let that bear an action, I'll try it with thee,
Honor?
Tob. Oh Reprobate!
La. Thou musty Justice,
Buy an honourable halter and hang thy self.
[T]ob. A worshipful ropes end is too good for him.
La. Get honor that way, thou wot die a dog else.
Tob. Come and be whipt first.
La. Where is her Portion.
Enter Nurse and Women.
Ju. Where I'll keep it safely.
Nur. Traitor, thou shall not keep it.
Ju. More of the kennel? put more bolts to th' doors there,
And arm your selves, hell is broke loose upon us.
Tob. I am glad y'are come, we'll blow the house down.
La. Oh Nurse, I have such cause—
Wo. Villain, viper, although you had no cause, we are bound
To help.
Nur. Yes, and believe, we come not here to examine,
And if you please we'll fire the house.
Ju. Call the Constable.
Tob. A charitable motion, fire is comfortable.
La. No, no, we'll only let him know our minds,
We will commit no outrage, he's a Lawyer.
Ju. Give me my Musket.
La. Where's my daughters body,
That I may bury it?
Wo. Speak, or we'll bury thee.
Nur. Alive, we'll bury thee, speak old Iniquity.
Tob. Bury him alive by all means for a testimony.
Ju. Their voices make my house reel, oh for Officers,
I am in a dream, thy daughters spirit
[Walkes] a nights, and troubles all the neigh[bou]rs:
Go hire a Conjurer, I'll say no more.
Wo. Nur. We are Witnesses,
And if thou be'st not hang'd—
Enter Lurcher and Boy.
Lur. Buy a Book of good manners,
A short Book of good manners.
Boy. Buy a ballad, a ballad of the maid was got with child.
Tob. That might ha been my case last night,
I'll ha't, what e'er it cost me.
Boy. A ballad of the Witches hang'd at Ludlow.
Tob. I will have that too;
There was an Aunt of mine, I think amongst 'em,
I would be glad to hear her Testament.
Lur. A new Book of Women.
Ju. The thunder's laid, how they stare at him.
Lur. A new Book of Fools, a strange Book,
Very strange fools.
Ju. I'll owe thee a good turn, whate'er thou art.
Lur. A Book of Walking Spirits.
Ju. That I like not.
Tob. Nor I, they walk'd me the Fools Morris.
Lur. A Book of Wicked Women.
Ju. That's well thought on.
[L]ur. Of rude, malicious Women, of proud Women,
Of scolding Women, we shall ne'er get in.
Boy. A ballad of wrong'd Maids.
La. I'll buy that.
Lur. A little, very little Book,
Of good and godly Women, a very little one,
So little you may put it in a Nutshel.
Tob. With a small print that no body can read it.
Nur. Peace sirrah, or I'll tear your Books.
Ju. Open the door and let him in, I love him.
Lur. A Book of evil Magistrates.
La. I marry d'ye hear that Justice.
Lur. And their eviller wives,
That wear their Places in their Petticoats.
Ju. D'ye hear that Lady.
Boy. A Book new printed against Playing,
Dancing, Masking, May-poles; a zealous Brothers Book,
And full of Fables.
Lur. Another Book of Women, of mad women,
Women that were born in March. [Exit.
La. Are you got in?
We would ha pull'd your knaves hide else; this fellow
Was sent to abuse us, but we shall have time
To talk more with this Justice.
Ju. Farewel Madam, as you like this, come visit me agen,
You and your treble strings, now scold your hearts out—
Wo. Shall he carry it thus away?
Nur. Go to the Judge, and what you'll have us swear—
La. I thank ye heartily,
I'll keep that for the last, I will go home,
And leave him to his Conscience for a while,
If it sleep long, I'll wake it with a vengeance. [Exit.
Enter Servants.
1. What book has he given thee?
2. A dainty book, a book of the great Navy,
Of fifteen hundred ships of Cannon-proof,
Built upon Whales to keep their keels from sinking:
And Dragons in 'em, that spit fire ten mile;
And Elephants that carry goodly Castles.
1. Dost thou believe it?
2. Shall we not believe Books in print?
1. I have John Taylors book of Hempseed too,
Which for two lines I hapned on by chance,
I reverence.
2. I prethee what are they?
1. They are so pat upon the time, as if
He studied to answer the late Histriomastix,
Talking of change and transformations,
That wittily, and learnedly he bangs him,
So many a Puritans ruff, though starch'd in print,
Be turn'd to Paper, and a Play writ in't
[A Play in the Puritans ruff? I'll buy his Works for't,
And confute Horace with a Water Poet:]
What hast there a Ballad too?
2. [This?] This is a piece of Poetry indeed;
[He sings; Justice cries within.
What noise is that?
1. Some cry i th' streets; prethee sing on. [Sing again.
2. Agen, dost not hear? 'tis i'th' house certainly?
1. 'Tis a strange noise! and has a tang o'th' Justice.
2. Let's see! [Exit.
Enter the Servants bringing in their Master bound and gagg'd.
1. Untie his feet, pull out his gagg, he will choak else;
What desperate rogues were these.
2. Give him fresh air.
Ju. I will never study books more:
I am undone, these villains have undone me.
Rifled my Desk, they have undone me learnedly:
A fire take all their Books, I'll burn my Study:
Where were you rascals when the villains bound me,
You could not hear?
1. He gave us Books, Sir, dainty Books to busie us;
And we were reading, in that which was the Brew-house;
A great way off, we were singing Ballads too;
And could not hear.
Ju. This was a precious thief,
A subtle trick to keep my servants safe.
2. What ha you lost Sir?
Ju. They ransack'd all before my face, and threatned
To kill me if I cough'd, they have a chain,
My rings, my box of casting gold, my purse too.
They robb'd me miserably: but that which most grieves me,
They took away some Writings; 'twas a rogue
That knew me, and set on by the old Lady,
I will indite her for't.
1. Shall we pursue 'em?
Ju. Run, run, cursed raskals,
I am out of my wits, let not a creature in,
No not with necessaries.
2. We shall be starv'd.
Ju. I'll buy my meat at window as they pass by;
I [wonot] trust my Scrivenor, he has books too;
And bread I'll ha flung up; I charge ye all
Burn all the books i'th' house.
1. Your little Prayer Book?
Ju. I'll never pray agen, I'll have my doors
Made up, nothing but walls, and thick ones too;
No sound shall tempt me agen, remember I
Have forswore books.
2. If you should be call'd to take your oath?
Ju. I will forswear all oaths, rather than see
A thing but in the likeness of a book:
And I were condemn'd, I'll rather chuse to hang,
Than read agen; come in, and search all places,
They may be about the house, were the doors lock'd?
1. But the keys in 'em, and if they be gone,
They could not want wit to lock us in, Sir.
Ju. Never was a man so miserably undone,
I would lose a limb, to see their rogueships totter. [Exeunt.
Enter Lady and Nurse.
La. Thy brothers daughter, saist, and born in Wales?
Nur. I have long time desired to see her, and I hope
Your Ladyship will not be offended.
La. No, no.
Nur. I should be happy, if she might be serviceable
To you Madam.
La. Beshrew me, but at first, she took me much,
Is she not like Maria? setting aside
Her language very like her, and I love her
The better for't, I prethee call her hither,
She speaks feat English.
Nur. Why Guennith, Guennith, du hummah Guennith.
She is course Madam, after her countrey guise,
And were she in fine cloths—
La. I'll have her handsome:
Enter Maria.
What part of Wales were you born in?
Ma. In Abehundis Mada[ms].
Nur. She speaks that name in Welsh, which we call Brecknock.
La. What can you do?
Ma. Her was toe many tings in Walls, know not the fashion in Londons; her was milk the Cows, make seeze and butters, and spin very well the Welsh freeze, her was Cooke to te Mountain Cots, and sing very fine prittish tunes, was mage good ales and breds, and her know to dance on Sundays, marge you now Madams.
La. A pretty innocence, I do like her infinitely, Nurse,
And if I live—
Enter Servant.
Ser. Here is Mr. Hartlove, Madam, come to see you.
La. Alas poor Gentleman, prethee admit him.
Enter Hartlove and Gent.
Ha. Madam, I am come to take my last leave.
La. How Sir?
Ha. Of all my home affections, and my friends,
For the interest you had once in Maria,
I would acquaint you when I leave the kingdom.
La. Would there were any thing in my poor power
That might divert your Will, and make you happy,
I am sure I have wrong'd her too, but let your pardon
Assure me you are charitable; she's dead
Which makes us both sad: What do you look on?
[1.] The likest face—
Ma. Plesse us awle, why does that sentilman make such unders and mazements at her, I know her not.
Ha. Be not offended maid.
La. How the wench blushes, she represents Marias loss to him.
Ma. Will the sentilman hurt her? pray you be her defences, was have mad phisnomies, is her troubled with Lunaticks in her prain pans, bless us awle.
Ha. Where had you this face?
Ma. Her faces be our none, I warrant her.
Ha. I wonot hurt you, all the lineaments
That built Maria up; all those springing beauties
Dwell on this thing, change but her tongue I know her:
Let me see your hand.
Ma. Du Guin. was never thieves, and robberies; here is no sindge in her hands warrant her.
Ha. Trust me, the self-same white,
And softness, prethee speak our English Dialect.
Ma. Ha leggs? what does her speage hard urds to her, to make poor Guenith ridicles, was no mannerly sentilman to abuse her.
Ha. By the love,
That everlasting love I bear Maria—
Ma. Maria, her name was Guenith, and good names, was poor else, oman maid, her have no fine kanags to madge her tricksie[, yet] in her own cuntries was held a fine ense her can tels her, and honest ense too, marg you dat now, her can keep her little legs close enough, warrant her.
La. How prettily this anger shews.
1. She gabbles innocently.
Ha. Madam farewel, and all good fortune dwell we'e,
With me my own affections; farewel Maid,
Fair gentle maid.
2. She sighs.
Ma. Du cat a whee.
Ha. I cannot goe, there's somewhat calls me back.
Ma. Poor Frank,
How gladly would I entertain thy love,
And meet thy worthy flame, but shame forbids me:
If please her Ladyship dwell here with Guenith, and learn to spinn and card ull, to mage flannells, and linseyes ulseis, fall tawgco'd urds to her Ladyships urships for her. [The tears flow from him.
The tears of true affection, woe is me,
Oh cursed love that glories in maids miseries,
And true mens broken hearts.
La. Alas I pity him, the wench is rude, and knows you not, forgive her.
Ma. Wy[n]e your nyes [p]ray you, though was porn in Walls 'mong craggy rocks, and mountains, yet heart is soft, look you hur can weep too, when hur see men mage prinie tears and lamentations.
Ha. How hard she holds me!
Just as Maria did, weeps the same drops,
Now as I have a living soul, her si[gh] too;
What shall I think, is not your name Maria,
If it be not, delude me with so much charity
To say it is.
Ma. Upon her life, you was mighty deal in love with some podies, your pale seekes and hollow nyes, and pantings upon her posom, know very well, because look you, her think her honest sentilman, you sall call her Maria.
Ha. Good Madam, think not ill I am thus saucy.
La. Oh no Sir, be you not angry with the wench.
Ha. I am most pleas'd.
1. Lets interrupt him, he'll be mad outright else.
2. Observe a little more.
Ha. Would I could in your language beg a kiss.
Ma. If her have necessities of a kiss, look you, dere is one in sarities.
Ha. Let me suffer death,
If in my apprehension two twinn'd cherries
Be more a kinn, than her lips to Maria's:
And if this harsh illusion would but leave her,
She were the same, good Madam, shall I have
Your consent now?
La. To what?
Ha. To give this Virgin to me.
La. She's not mine, this is her kinswoman,
And has more power to dispose; alas, I pity him.
Pray gentlem[e]n prevail with him to goe;
More that I wish his comfort than his absence.
Ha. You have been always kind to me, will you
Deny me your fair Cosin?
Nu. 'Twere fit you first obtain'd her own consent.
Ha. [He] is no friend that wishes my departure,
I doe not trouble you.
1. 'Tis not Maria.
Ha. Her shadow is enough, I'll dwell with that,
Pursue your own ways, shall we live together?
Ma. If her will come to morrow and tauge to her, her will tell her more of her meanings, and then if her be melancholy, her will sing her a Welch Song too, to make her merries, but Guenith was very honest; her was never love but one sentleman, and he was bear her great teal of good-ills too, was marry one day S. Davy, her give her five pair of white gloves, if her will dance at her weddings.
Ha. All I am worth,
And all my hopes this strange voice would forsake her,
For then she shud be—prethee stay a little,
Hark in thine ear, dissemble not, but tell me,
And save my life; I know you are Maria:
Speak but as I doe, ten words to confirm me;
You have an English soul, do not disguise it
From me with these strange accents—She pinch'd hard
Again, and sigh'd.
La. What ails the Wench? [Exit.
Nur. Why, Guenith.
Ha. She's gone too.
2. Come leave this dream.
Ha. A dream? I think so;
But 'twas a pleasing one, now I'll obey,
And forget all these wonders, lead the way. [Exeunt.
Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Wildbrain and Toby.
Wild. HOnest Toby?
To. Sweet Mr. Wildbrain,—I am glad I ha met w'ye.
Wild. Why, did my Aunt send for me?
Tob. Your Aunt's a mortal, and thinks not on you
For ought I can perceive.
Wild. Is my cosin alive agen?
Tob. Neither, and yet we do not hear
That she's buried.
Wild. What should make thee glad then?
Tob. What should make me glad? have I not cause,
To see your Princely body well, and walk thus,
Look blithe and bonny, and your Wardrobe whole still?
Wild. The case is clear, and I ha found a Mine,
A perfect Indie, since my Aunt cashier'd me;
What think'st of this?
Tob. Oh delicate bells.
Wild. Thou puttest me in mind,
We are to ring anon, I mean[t] to send for thee;
Meet me at the old Parish Church.
Tob. Say no more.
Wild. When thy Lady is a bed, we ha conspir'd
A midnight peal for joy.
Tob. If I fail, hang me i' th' bell-ropes.
Wild. And how? and how does my Aunt?
Tob. She's up to th' ears in Law;
I do so whirl her to the Counsellors chambers,
And back again, and bounce her for more money,
And too again, I know not what they do with her;
But she's the merriest thing among these Law-drivers;
And in their studies half a day together;
If they do get her with Magna Charta, she swears,
By all the ability of her old body,
She will so claw the Justice, she will sell
The tiles of the house she vows, and Sack out o'th' Cellar,
(That she worships to Idolatry) but she'll hang him.
Wild. I would she could: but hark thee honest Toby.
If a man have a Mistriss, may we not,
Without my Aunt's leave, borrow now and then
A Coach to tumble in, towards the Exchange,
And so forth?
Tob. A Mistriss?
Wild. She may be thine when we are married.
Tob. Command, I'll carry you both in pomp;
And let my Lady go a foot a Law-catching,
And exercise her corns: where is she Master John?
Wild. 'Shat see her.
Tob. Shall we ring for her?
Wild. And drink her health?
Tob. Drink stifly for five hours.
Wild. We'll drink fifteen.
Tob. To night? we will ha twenty Torches then,
And through the streets drive on triumphantly;
Triumphantly we'll drive, by my Lad[y]es door,
As I am a Christian Coachman, I will rattle you
And Urine in her porch, and she shall fear me:
If you say more, I shall run mad outright,
I will drink Sack, and surfeit instantly;
I know not where I am now. [Exit.
Enter Lurcher.
Wi. Hold for thy buttons sake, the knave's transported.
Lur. Jack Wildbrain?
Wild. Honest Tom, how thrives the fellonious world with thee now?
Lur. You look and talk as you were much exalted.
Wild. Th'art i'th' right Tom. I'll tell thee first,
I ha shook off my Aunt, and yet I live still,
And drink, and sing; her house had like to ha spoil'd me;
I keep no hours now;
Nor need any false key
To the old womans Cabinets, I ha money
Upon my word, and pawn no oaths to th' Butler.
No matrimonial protestations
For Sack-possets to the Chambermaid,
I praise my Fate, there be more ways to th' wood Tom.
Lur. Prethee release my wonder.
Wild. I'll increase it, wipe thine eyes,
Here is a chain worth money, and some man had it,
A foolis[h] Diamond, and other trifles—
Lur. The very same, Oh Gipsey! Infidel!
All that I sweat, and ventur'd my neck for,
He has got already; who would trust a strumpet:
Wild. This? This is nothing to what I possess
At home.
Lur. What home?
Wild. A house that shall be nameless;
The Mistriss of it mine too, such a piece
For flesh and blood, added to that so loving—
Lur. Is she married?
Wild. I know not, nor I care not;
But such a prize, so mounting, so delicious,
Thou wilt run mad, I'll tell thee more hereafter.
Lur. Nay, prethee a word more.
Wild. I took no pains to find out all this Paradise,
My destiny threw me upon't i'th dark, I found it
Wanting a Lodging too.
Lur. No old acquaintance?
Wild. Never, never saw her;
But these things happen not in every age:
I cannot stay, if thou wilt meet anon
At my own randevow, thou knowest the Tavern,
We'll sup together, after that a company
Of merry lads have made a match to ring.
Lur. You keep your exercise, i'th' old Church?
Wild. No other,
There is no Musick to the Bells, we wo'd
Have Bonfires if we durst, and thou wo'd come
It shall cost thee nothing Tom, hang pilfering,
And keep me company, in time I may
Shew thee my wench too.
Lur. I cannot promise; but you will be there?
Wild. We'll toss the Bells, and make the Steeple
Roar boy, but come to supper then.
Lur. My hand, and expect me:
Yes, I will come or send, and to some purpose;
Art come boy?
Enter Boy with Gown, Beard, and Constables staff.
Excellent, Knave, how didst thou purchase these?
Boy. The staff I stole last night from a sleeping Constable;
The rest I borrowed by my acquaintance with
The Players boyes; you were best to lose no time, Sir.
Lur. So, so, help boy, 'tis very well, do I not look
Like one that breaks the Kings peace with authority?
You know your charge, prepare things handsomely,
My diligent boy, and leave me to my office.
Boy. There wants nothing already; but I fly Sir. [Exit.
Lur. Now Fortune prove no slut, and I'll adore thee.
Within. Ser. Whose there? [Knocks.
Lur. A friend wo'd speak with Master Justice.
Ser. Who are you?
Lur. I am the Constable.
Ser. My Master is not at leasure to hear business.
Lur. How? Not at leasure to do the King service;
Take heed what you say, Sir; I know his worship,
If he kn[e]w my business, would no excuse.
Ser. You must go to another Justice, I'll assure
My Master is not well in health.
Lur. I know not,
But if your worshipful be not at leasure
To do himself a benefit, I am gone Sir,
An infinite benefit, and the State shall thank him for't;
Thank him, and think on him too; I am an Officer.
And know my place, but I do love the Justice;
I honor any authority above me:
Beside, he is my neighbor, and I worship him.
Ser. You have no Books, nor Ballads, Mr Constable,
About you?
Lur. What should I doe with Books? does it become
A man of my place to understand such matters?
Pray call your Master, if he please to follow me,
I shall discover to him such a plot,
Shall get him everlasting fame, I'll be hang'd for't,
And he be not knighted instantly, and for reward
Have some of the malefactors Lands, I'll bring him too;
But I cannot d[all]y time. [Within.
Ju. Who's that?
Ser. A Constable Sir, would speak about some business,
He says will bring you Fame, and mighty profit.
Lur. Please your worship come down, I'll make you happy;
The notabl'st piece of villany I have in hand Sir,
And you shall find it out; I ha made choice
To bring your worship to the first knowledge, and
Thank me, as you find the good on't afterwards.
Ju. What is it? Treason?
Lur. 'Tis little better, I can tell you I have lodg'd
A crew of the most rank and desperate villains:
They talk of robberies and waies they did 'em;
And how they left men bound i[n] their studies.
Ju. With Books and Ballads?
Lur. That Sir, that, and murders,
And thousand knaveries more, they're very rich Sir,
In Money, Jewels, Chains, and a hundred more
Devices.
Ju. Happy, happy Constable, I meet ye
At the back door, get ready knaves.
Lur. Not a man I beseech you,
I have privately appointed strength about me,
They cannot start, your men would breed suspition;
All my desire is, you would come alone;
That you might have the hope of the enterprise,
That you might hear 'em first, and then proceed, Sir.
Ju. I come, I come.
Lur. 'Tis very well. [Exit.
Ju. Keep all my doors fast, 'tis something late.
Lur. So, so, and please your worship I[le] direct you.
Enter Boy.
Boy. My Master staies, I doubt his lime-twigs catch not,
If they doe, all's provided; but I all
This while forget my own state, fair Maria
Is certainly alive, I met her in
Another habit, with her Nurse, 'twas she:
There is some trick in't, but when this is over,
I'll find it out, this project for the Usurer
May have good effect; however, 'twill be sport
To mortifie him a little;
Enter Lurcher.
He's come without him:
Have you fail'd, Sir?
Lur. Prosper'd? my little Ingineer; away,
He is i'th' next room, be not you seen, sirrah. [Exit.
Boy. The pitfall's ready, never Justice
Was catcht in such a nooze: e'er he get out,
He shall run through a scouring purgatory,
Shall purge him to the quick, 'tis night already. [Exit.
Enter Algripe and Lurcher.
Lur. Come softly, yet Sir, softly, are you not weary?
Ju. Th'ast brought me into a melancholy place,
I see no creature.
Lur. This is, Sir, their Den
Where they suppose themselves secure, I am faint,
With making haste; but I must be thus troubled,
And therefore never go without a Cordial; [Seems to drink.
Without this I should dye;
How it refreshes me
Already! will't please your worship? I might have had
The manners to ha' let you drink before me;
Now am I lusty.
Ju. 'T[h]as a good taste.
Lur. Taste? how d'ye find the virtue, nay Sir, spare it not:
My wife has the Receipt, does it not stir
Your Worships body? when you come to examine,
'Twill make you speak like thunder.
Ju. Hoy he.
Lur. It works already.
Ju. Is there never a chair, I was wearier than I thought,
But who shall we have to take 'em. Mr. Constable?
Lur. Let me alone, when I but give the watch-word
We will have men enough to surprize an Army.
Ju. I begin to be sleepy; what, hast a chair?
Enter another with a chair.
Lur. They do not dream of us, 'tis early rising;
Care, care, and early rising, Common-wealths men
Are ever subject to the nods; sit down, Sir,
A short nap is not much amiss; so, so, he's fast;
Fast as a fish i'th' net, he has winking powder
Shall work upon him to our wish, remove him,
Nay, we may cut him into collops now
And he ne'r feel; have you prepar'd the vault, sirrah?
Boy. Yes, yes, Sir, every thing in's place.
Lur. When [we] have plac'd him, you and I boy
Must about another project hard by, his potion
Will bind him sure enough till we return,
This villany weighs mainly, But we'll purge ye. [Exit.
[Bells ring.
Enter Sexton.
Sex. Now for mine ears, mine ears be constant to me;
They ring a wager, and I must deal justly, ha boys.
Enter Lurcher and Boy.
Lur. Dost hear 'em, hark, these be the Ringers?
Boy. Are you sure the same?
Lur. Or my directions fail;
The coast is clear:
How the bells go! how daintily they tumble!
And methinks they seem to say; Fine fools I'll fit you.
Sex. Excellent agen, good boys—oh that was nought.
Lur. Who's that?
Boy. Be you conceal'd by any means yet, hark,
They stop, I hope they'll to't agen, close Sir.
Enter Wildbrain, Toby, Ringers.
Wild. A palpable knock.
Ring. 'Twas none.
To. Be judg'd by the Sexton then,
If I have ears.
Sex. A knock, a knock, a gross one.
To. Carman, your gallon of wine, you ring most impiously,
Art thou o'th' worshipful company of the Knights o'th West,
And handle a bell with no more dexterity?
You think you are in Thames-street
Justling the Carts: oh a clean hand's a Jewel.
Boy. Good speed to your good exercise.
To. Y' are welcome.
Boy. I come, Sir, from a Gentleman, and neighbor hard by,
One that loves your Musick well.
To. He may have more on't,
Handle a bell, as you were haling timber;
Gross, gross, and base, absurd.
Ring. I'll mend it next peal.
Boy. To intreat a knowledge of you, whether it be
By the Ear you ring thus cunningly, or by the Eye;
For to be plain, he has laid ten pounds upon't.
Wild. But which way has he laid?
Boy. That your Ear guides you,
And not your Eye.
To. Has won, has won, the Ear's our only instrument:
Boy. But how shall we be sure on't.
To. Put all the lights out, to what end serve our eyes then?
Wild. A plain Case.
Boy. You say true, 'tis a fine cunning thing to ring by th' Ear sure:
And can you ring i' th' dark so?
Wild. All night long, boy.
Boy. 'Tis wonderful, let this be certain Gentlemen,
And half his wager he allows among ye;
Is't possible you should ring so?
To. Possible, thou art a child, I'll ring when I am dead drunk
Out with the lights, no twinkling of a candle,
I know my rope too, as I know my nose,
And can bang it soundly i'th' dark, I warrant you.
Wi. Come, let's confirm him straight, and win the wager. [Ex.
Boy. Let me hear to strengthen me;
And when y'ave rung, I'll bring the money to you.
Lur. So, so, follow 'em;
They shall have a cool reward, one hath gold of mine,
Good store in's pocket, [Ring.
But this will be reveng'd in a short warning.
They are at it lustily; hey, how wantonly
They ring away their cloaths, how it delights me.
Boy. Here, here, Sir.
Enter Boy with cloaths.
Lur. Hast Wildbrain's?
Boy. His whole case, Sir; I felt it out, and by the guards
This should be the Coachmans, another suit too.
Lur. Away boy, quickly now to the Usurer,
His hour to wake approaches.
Boy. That once finished,
You'll give me leave to play, Sir: here they come. [Ex.
Enter Wildbrain, Toby, and Ringers.
Wild. I am monstrous weary.
To. Fie, how I sweat! Reach me my cloak to cover me,
I run to oyl like a Porpise; 'twas a brave peal.
Sex. Let me light [my] candle first, then I'll wait on you.
Wild. A very brave peal.
To. Carman, you came in close now.
Wild. Sure 'tis past midnight.
Ring. No stirring in the streets I hear.
To. Walk further, was that a pillar? 'tis harder than my nose,
Where's the boy promis'd us five pounds?
Wild. Room, I sweat still; come, come, my cloak,
I shall take cold.
Enter Sexton.
Sex. Where lies it?
Wild. Here, here, and all our cloaths.
Sex. Where, where?
Ring. I'th' corner.
To. Is thy candle blind too, give me the bottle,
I can drink like a Fish now, like an Elephant.
Sex. Here are the corners, but here are no cloaths;
Yes, here is a cuff.
Wild. A cuff? give me the candle,
Cuffes wonot cover me—I smell the knavery.
Tob. Is't come to a cuff? my whole suit turned to a button?
Wild. Now am I as cold again as though 'twere Christmas;
Cold with my fear, I'll never ring by the ear more.
To. My new cloaths vanish'd?
Wild. All my cloaths Toby.
Ring. Here's none.
Tob. Not one of my dragons wings left to adorn me,
Have I muted all my feathers?
Wild. Cheated by the ear; a plot to put out the candle;
I could be mad; my chain, my rings, the gold, the gold.
Tob. The cold, the cold I cry, and I cry truly,
Not one sleeve, nor a cape of a cloak to warm me.
Wild. What miserable fools were we!
Tob. We had e'en best, gentlemen,
Every man chuse his rope again, and fasten it,
And take a short turn to a better fortune,
To be bawds to our miseries, and put our own lights out!
Wild. Prethee Sexton lets have a fire at thy house.
A good fire, we'll pay thee some way for't, I am stone cold.
Sex. Alas I pity you, come quickly Gentlemen.
Wild. Sure I ha been in a dream, I had no Mistriss,
Nor gold, nor cloaths, but am a ringing rascal.
Tob. Fellows in affliction, let's take hands all,
Now are we fit for tumblers.
Enter Lurcher and others, bringing in Algripe.
Lur. So, so, presently his sleep will leave him.
And wonder seize upon him,
Bid 'em within be ready.
Ju. What sound's this?
What horrid dinne? what dismal place is this?
I never saw before, and now behold it;
But by the half light of a Lamp, that burns here:
My spirits shake, tremble through my body;
Help, help,
Enter two Furies, with black Tapers.
Mercy protect me, my soul quakes,
What dreadful apparitions! how I shudder!
1. 2. Fu. Algripe.
Ju. What are you?
1. We are hellhounds, hellhounds, that have commission
From the Prince of darkness,
To fetch thy black soul to him.
Ju. Am I not alive still?
1. Thou art, but we have brought thee instruments
Will quickly rid thy miserable life, Stabb.
2. Poyson.
1. Hang thy self, this choice is offer'd.
2. Thou canst not hope for heaven; thy base soul is
Lost to all hope of mercy.
[1.] Quickly, quickly,
The torments cool.
[2.] And all [the Fiends] expect thee.
Come with us to that pit of endless horror,
Or we will force thee.
Ju. Oh, oh, oh.
1. Groans are too late, sooner the ravisher,
Whose soul is hurl'd into eternal frost,
Stung with the force of twenty thousand winters,
To punish the distempers of his blood,
Shall hope to get from thence, than thou avoid
The certainty of meeting hell where he is.
Shall murderers be there for ever dying,
Their souls shot through with Adders, torn on Engines,
Dying as many deaths for killing one,
Could any imagination number them,
As there be moments in eternity:
And shall that Justice spare thee, that hast slain,
Murdered by thy extortion so many?
Ju. Oh, oh.
2. Do execution quickly, or we'll carry thee alive to hell.
Ju. Gently, gentle devils, do not force me
To kill my self, nor do not you do't for me;
Oh let me live, I'll make amends for all.
1. Tell us of thy repentance? perjur'd villain,
Pinch off his flesh, he must be whipt, salted and whipt.
Ju. Oh misery of miseries!
Recorders 1. 2. Tear his accursed limbs, to hell with him, ha!
A mischief on that innocent face, away. [Creeps in.
Enter Boy like an Angel.
Boy. Malicious furies hence, choak not the seeds
Of holy penitence.
Ju. This must be an Angel,
How at his presence the fiends crawl away!
Here is some light of mercy.
Boy. Be thou wise,
And entertain it, wretched, wretched man;
What poor defence hath all thy wealth been to thee?
What says thy conscience now?
Ju. Be my good Angel, here I promise thee,
To become honest, and renounce all villany;
Enjoyn me any pennance, I'll build Churches;
A whole City of Hospitals.
Boy. Take heed,
There is no dallying, nor are these impos'd.
Ju. Name any thing within my power, sweet Angel;
And if I do not faithfully perform it,
Then whip me every day, burn me each minute,
Whole years together let me freeze to Isicles.
Boy. I'th' number of thy foul oppressions;
Thou hast undone a faithful Gentleman,
By taking forfeit of his Land.
Ju. Young Lurcher,
I do confess.
Boy. He lives most miserable,
And in despair may hang or drown himself;
Prevent his ruine, or his blood will be
More sin in thy account: hast thou forgotten
He had a sister?
Ju. I do well remember it.
Boy. Couldst thou for Mammon break thy solemn vow,
Made once to that unhappy maid, that weeps
A thousand tears a day for thy unkindness,
Was not thy faith contracted, and thy heart?
And couldst thou marry another?
Ju. But she is dead,
And I will make true satisfaction.
Boy. What do I instance these that hast been false
To all the world.
Ju. I know it, and will henceforth
Practice repentance, do not frown sweet Angel;
I will restore all Mortgages, forswear
Abominable Usury, live chaste;
For I have been wanton in my shroud, my age;
And if that poor innocent maid, I so abus'd,
Be living, I will marry her, and spend
My days to come religiously.
Boy. I was commanded but a Messenger
To tell thee this, and rescue thee from those,
Whose malice would have dragg'd thee quick to hell,
If thou abuse this mercy and repent not,
Double damnation will expect thee for it;
But if thy life be virtuous hereafter,
A blessedness shall reward thy good example,
Thy fright hath much distracted thy weak sences,
Drink of this viol, and renew thy spirits
I ha done my office, think on't and be happy.
Lur. So, so, he gapes already, now he's fast;
Thou hast acted rarely, but this is not all;
First, help to convey him out o' th' vault.
Boy. You will dispense with me now, as you promis'd, Sir.
Lur. We will make shift without thee, th'ast done well,
By our device this bondage may scape hell. [Exit.
Enter Lady, Nurse, Maria.
La. Didst think Maria, this poor outside, and
Dissembling of thy voice could hide thee from
A mothers searching eye, though too much fear,
Lest thou wert not the same, might blind a Lover
That thought thee dead too; oh my dear Maria,
I hardly kept my joyes in from betraying thee:
Welcome again to life, we shall find out
The mystery of thy absence; conceal
Thy person still, for Algripe must not know thee:
And exercise this pretty Dialect;
If there be any course in Law to free thee,
Thou shalt not be so miserable; be silent
Good Nurse.
Nur. You [shall] not need to fear me, Madam,
I do not love the usuring Jew so well;
Beside, 'twas my trick to disguise her so.
La. Be not dejected Mall.
Ma. Your care may comfort me;
But I despair of happiness:
Hartlove, I dare not see him.
Nur. We'll withdraw.
L[a]. I shall but grieve to see his passions too,
Since there's no possibility to relieve him.
Enter Hartlove.
Ha. The world's a Labyrinth, where unguided men
Walk up and down to find their weariness;
No sooner have we measured with much toil
One crooked path with hope to gain our freedom,
But it betrays us to a new affliction;
What a strange mockery will man become
Shortly to all the creatures?
Oh Mariah!
If thou be'st dead, why does thy shadow fright me?
Sure 'tis because I live; were I but certain
To meet thee in one grave, and that our dust
Might have the priviledge to mix in silence,
How quickly should my soul shake off this burthen!
Enter Boy.
[Boy.] Thus far my wishes have success, I'll lose
No time: Sir, are not you call'd Mr. Hartlove?
Pardon my rudeness.
Ha. What does that concern
Thee Boy, 'tis a name cannot advantage thee;
And I am weary on't.
Boy. Had you conceal'd,
Or I forgot it, Sir, so large were my
Directions, that you could not speak this language,
But I should know you by your sorrow.
Ha. Thou
Wert well inform'd, it seems; well, what's your business?
Boy. I come to bring you comfort.
Ha. Is Maria
Alive agen? that's somewhat, and yet not
Enough to make my expectation rise, to
Past half a blessing; since we cannot meet
To make it up a full one; th'art mistaken.
Boy. When you have heard me, you'll think otherwise:
In vain I should report Maria living:
The comfort that I bring you, must depend
Upon her death.
Ha. Th'art a dissembling boy,
Some one has sent thee to mock me; though my anger
Stoop not to punish thy green years unripe
For malice; did I know what person sent thee
To tempt my sorrow thus, I should reveng it.
Boy. Indeed I have no thought so uncharitable,
Nor am I sent to grieve you, let me suffer
More punishment than ever boy deserv'd,
If you do find me false; I serve a Mistriss
Would rather dye than play with your misfortunes;
Then good Sir hear me out.
Ha. Who is your Mistriss?
Boy. Before I name her, give me some encouragement,
That you receive her message: she is one
That is full acquainted with your misery,
And can bring such a portion of her sorrow
In every circumstance so like your own,
You'll love and pity her, and wish your griefs
Might marry one anothers.
Ha. Thou art wild.
Canst thou bring comfort from so sad a creature?
Her miserable story can at best,
But swell my Volume, large enough already.
Boy. She was late belov'd, as you were, promis'd faith
And marriage; and was worthy of a better
Than he, that stole Maria's heart.
Ha. How's that?
Boy. Just as Maria dealt with your affection,
Did he that married her deal with my Mistriss,
When careless both of Honor and Religion;
They cruelly gave away their hearts to strangers.
Ha. Part of this truth I know, but prethee boy
Proceed to that thou cam'st for; thou didst Promise
Something, thy language cannot hitherto
Encourage me to hope for.
Boy. That I come to:
My Mistriss thus unkindly dealt withal,
You may imagine, wanted no affliction;
And had e'r this, wept her self dry as Marble,
Had not your fortune come to her relief,
And twinn to her own sorrow brought her comfort.
Ha. Could the condition of my fate so equal,
Lessen her sufferings?
Boy. I know not how
Companions in grief sometimes diminish
And make the pressure easie by degrees:
She threw her troubles off, remembring yours,
And from her pity of your wrongs, there grew
Affection to your person thus increas'd,
And with it, confidence, that those whom Nature
Had made so even in their weight of sorrow,
Could not but love as equally one another,
Were things but well prepar'd, this gave her boldness
To employ me thus far.
Ha. A strange message, boy.
Boy. If you incline to meet my Mistriss love,
It may beget your comforts; besides that,
'Tis some revenge, that you above their scorn
And pride can laugh at them, whose perjury
Hath made you happy, and undone themselves.
Ha. Have you done boy?
Boy. Only this little more;
When you but see, and know my Mistriss well,
You will forgive my tediousness, she's fair,
Fair as Maria was.
Ha. I'll hear no more,
Go foolish boy, a[n]d tell thy fonder Mistriss
She has no second Faith to give away;
And mine was given to Maria, though her death
Allow me freedom, see the Picture of her.
Enter Maria, Nurse.
I would give ten thousand Empires for the substance;
Yet for Maria's sake, whose divine Figure
That rude frame carries, I will love this counterfeit
Above all the world, and had thy Mistriss [all]
The grace and blossom of her sex; now she
Is gone, that was I would not look upon her.
Boy. Sir, your pardon,
I have but done a message, as becomes
A servant, nor did she on whose commands
I gladly waited, bid me urge her love
To your disquiet, she would chide my diligence
If I should make you angry.
Ha. Pretty boy.
Boy. Indeed I fear I have offended you:
Pray if I have, enjoyn me any pennance for it:
I have perform'd one duty, and could as willingly
To purge my fault, and shew I suffer with you,
Plead your cause to another.
Ha. And I'll take thee
At thy word boy, thou hast a moving language,
That pretty innocent, Copy of Maria
Is all I love, I know not how to speak,
Winn her to think well of me, and I will
Reward thee to thy wishes.
Boy. I undertake
Nothing for gain, but since you have resolv'd,
To love no other, I'll be faithful to you,
And my prophetick thoughts bid me already
Say I shall prosper.
Ha. Thou wert sent to bless me.
Boy. Pray give us opportunity.
Ha. Be happy. [Exit.
Nur. He's gone.
Boy. With your fair leave Mistriss.
Ma. Have you [pusinesse] with her pray you
Boy. I have a message from a Gentleman,
Please you vouchsafe your ear more private.
Nur. You shall have my absence Neece. [Exit.
Ma. Was the sentleman afear'd to declare his matters openly, here was no bodies was not very honest, if her like not her errands the petter, was wist to keep her preaths to cool her porridges, can tell her, that now for aule her private hearings and tawgings.
Boy. You may, if please you, find another language.
And with less pains be understood.
Ma. What is her meaning?
Boy. Come, pray speak your own English.
Ma. Have boyes lost her itts and memories? [plesse] us aule.
Boy. I must be plain then, come, I know you are
Maria, this thin vail cannot obscure you:
I'll tell the world you live, I have not lost ye,
Since first with grief and shame to be surpriz'd,
A violent trance took away shew of life;
I could discover by what accident
You were convey'd away at midnight, in
Your coffin, could declare the place, and minute,
When you reviv'd, [and] what you have done since as perfectly—
Ma. Alas, I am betraid to new misfortunes.
Boy. You are not, for my knowledge, I'll be dumb
For ever, rather than be such a traitor;
Indeed I pity you, and bring no thoughts,
But full of peace, call home your modest blood,
Pale hath too long usurp'd upon your face;
Think upon love agen, and the possession
Of full blown joyes, now ready to salute you.
Ma. These words undo me more than my own griefs.
Boy. I see how fear would play the tyrant with you,
But I'll remove suspition; have you in
Your heart, an entertainment for his love
To whom your Virgin faith made the first promise?
Ma. If thou mean'st Hartlove, thou dost wound me still,
I have no life without his memory,
Nor with it any hope to keep it long:
Thou seest I walk in darkness like a thief,
That fears to see the world in his own shape,
My very shadow frights me, 'tis a death
To live thus, and not look day in the face,
Away, I know thee not.
Boy. You shall hereafter know, and thank me Lady,
I'll bring you a discharge at my next visit,
Of all your fears, be content, fair Maria,
'Tis worth your wonder.
Ma. Impossible.
Boy. Be wise and silent,
Dress your self, you shall be what you wish.
Ma. Do this, and be
My better Angel.
Boy. All your care's on me. [Exeunt.
Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Lurch, and Boy.
Lur. I must applaud thy diligence.
Boy. It had been nothing
To have left him in the Porch; I call'd his servants,
With wonders they acknowledg'd him, I pretended
It was some spice sure of the falling sickness,
And that, 'twas charity to bring him home;
They rubb'd and chaf'd him, ply'd him with Strong water,
Still he was senseless, clamors could not wake him;
I wish'd 'em then get him to bed, they did so,
And almost smother'd him with ruggs and pillows;
And 'cause they should have no cause to suspect me,
I watch'd them till he wak'd.
Boy. When his time came to yawn, and stretch himself,
I bid 'em not be hasty to discover
How he was brought home; his eyes fully open
With trembling he began to call his servants,
And told 'em he had seen strange visions,
That should convert him from his heathen courses;
They wondred, and were silent, there he preach'd
How sweet the air of a contented conscience
Smelt in his nose now, ask'd 'em all forgiveness
For their hard pasture since they liv'd with him;
Bid 'em believe, and fetch out the cold Sur-loin;
Pierce the strong beer, and let the neighbors joy in't:
The conceal'd Muskadine should now lie open
To every mouth; that he would give to th' poor,
And mend their wages; that his doors should be
Open to every miserable sutor.
Lur. What said his servants then?
Boy. They durst not speak,
But blest themselves, and the strange means that had
Made him a Christian in this over-joy,
I took my leave, and bad 'em say their prayers,
And humor him, lest he turn'd Jew agen.
Lur. Enough, enough. Who's this?
Enter Toby.
'Tis one of my ringers; stand close, my Ladies Coachman.
To. Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat;
Would I were at rack and manger among my horses;
We have divided the Sextons
Houshold-stuff among us, one has the rugg, and he's
Turn'd Irish, and another has a blanket, and he must beg in't,
The sheets serve another for a frock, and with the bed-cord,
He may pass for a Porter, nothing but the mat would fall
To my share, which with the help of a tune and a hassock
Out o'th' Church, may disguise me till I get home;
A pox o' bell-ringing by the ear, if any man take me
At it agen, let him pull mine to the Pillory: I could wish
I had lost mine ears, so I had my cloaths again:
The weather wo'not allow this fashion,
I do look for an Ague besides.
Lur. How the raskal shakes!
To. Here are company:
Buy a Mat for a Bed, buy a Mat,
A hassock for your feet, or a Piss clean and sweet;
Buy a Mat for a Bed, buy a Mat:
Ringing I renounce thee, I'll never come to church more.
Lur. You with a Mat.
Tob. I am call'd.
If any one should offer to buy my Mat, what a case were I in?
Oh that I were in my Oat-tub with a horse-loaf,
Something to hearten me:
I dare not hear 'em;
Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat.
Lur. He's deaf.
Tob. I am glad I am: buy a mat for a bed.
Lur. How the raskal sweats! What a pickle he's in!
Every street he goes through will be a new torment.
Tob. If ever I meet at midnight more a jangling:
I am cold, and yet I drop; buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat.
Lur. He has punishment enough. [Exit.
Enter Wildbrain.
Who's this, my tother youth? he is turn'd Bear.
Wild. I am halfe afraid of my self: this poor shift
I got 'o th' Sexton to convey me handsomly
To some harbor, the wench will hardly know me;
They'll take me for some Watchman o'th' parish;
I ha ne'r a penny left me, that's one comfort;
And ringing has begot a monstrous stomach,
And that's another mischief: I were best go home,
For every thing will scorn me in this habit.
Besides, I am so full of these young bell-ringers;
If I get in adoors, not the power o'th' countrey,
Nor all my Aunts curses shall disembogue me.
Lur. Bid her come hither presently,—hum, 'tis he. [Exit. Serv.
Wild. I am betraid to one that will eternally laugh at me,
Three of these rogues will jeer a horse to death.
Lur. 'Tis Mr. Wildbrain sure, and yet me thinks
His fashion's strangely alt'red, sirrah Watchman,
You ragamuffin, turn you louzie Bears skin:
You with the Bed-rid Bill.
Wild. H'as found me out;
There's no avoiding him, I had rather now
Be arraign'd at Newgate for a robbery,
Than answer to his Articles: your Will Sir,
I am in haste.
Lur. Nay, then I will make bold wi'ye;
A Watchman, and asham'd to shew his countenance,
His face of authority? I have seen that physiognomy;
Were you never in prison for pilfering?
Wild. How the rogue worries me.
Lur. Why may not this
Be the villain robb'd my house last night,
And walks disguis'd in this malignant rugg,
Arm'd with a tun of Iron? I will have you
Before a Magistrate.
Wild. What will become of me?
Lur. What art thou? speak.
Wild. I am the wandring Jew, and please your worship.
Lur. By your leave Rabbi, I will shew you then
A Synagogue, iclip't Bridewel, where you,
Under correction, may rest your self:
You have brought a bill to guard you, there be dog-wh[ip]s
To firk such rugg'd currs, whips without bells
Indeed.
Wild. Bells.
Lur. How he sweats!
Wild. I must be known, as good at first; now jeer on,
But do not anger me too impudently,
The Rabbi will be mov'd then.
Lur. How? Jack Wildbrain,
What time o'th' Moon man, ha? what strange bells
Hast in thy brains?
Wild. No more bells,
No more bells, they ring backwards.
Lur. Why, where's the wench, the blessing that befel thee?
The unexpected happiness? where's that Jack?
Where are thy golden days?
Wild. It was his trick, as sure as I am louzie,
But how to be reveng'd—
Lur. Fie, fie, Jack,
Marry a Watchmans widow in thy young daies,
With a revenue of old Iron and a Rugg?
Is this the Paragon, the dainty piece,
The delicate divine rogue?
Wild. 'Tis enough, I am undone,
Mark'd for a misery, and so leave prating;
Give me my Bill.
Lur. You need not ask your Taylors,
Unless you had better Linings; it may be,
To avoid suspition, you are going thus
Disguis'd to your fair Mistriss.
Wild. Mock no further,
Or as I live, I'll lay my Bill o' thy pate,
I'll take a Watchmans fury into my fingers,
To ha no judgement to distinguish persons,
And knock thee down.
Lur. Come, I ha done, and now
Will speak some comfort to thee, I will lead thee
Now to my Mistriss hitherto conceal'd;
She shall take pity on thee too, she loves
A handsome man; thy misery invites me
To do thee good, I'll not be jealous, Jack;
Her beauty shall commend it self; but do not,
When I have brought you into grace, supplant me.
Wild. Art thou in earnest? by this cold Iron—
Lur. No oaths, I am not costive; here she comes.
Enter Mistriss.
Sweet-heart, I have brought a Gentleman,
A friend of mine to be acquainted with you,
He's other than he seems; why d'ye stare thus?
Mist. Oh Sir, forgive me, I have done ye wrong.
Lur. What's the matter? didst ever see her afore Jack?
Wild. Prethee do what thou wot wi'me, if thou hast
A mind, hang me up quickly.
Lur. Never despair, I'll give thee my share rather,
Take her, I hope she loves thee at first sight,
She has petticoats will patch thee up a suit;
I resign all, only I'll keep these trifles.
I took some pains for 'em, I take it Jack;
What think you pink of beauty, come let me
Counsel you both to marry, she has a trade,
If you have audacity to hook in Gamesters:
Let's ha a wedding, you will be wondrous rich;
For she is impudent, and thou art miserable;
'Twill be a rare match.
Mist. As you are a man, forgive me, I'll redeem all.
Lur. You wo'not to this geer of marriage then?
Wild. No, no, I thank you Tom, I can watch for
A groat a night, and be every gentlemans fellow. [Exit Mi.
Lur. Rise and be good, keep home and tend your business.
Wild. Thou hast don't to purpose, give me thy hand Tom;
Shall we be friends? thou seest what state I am in,
I'll undertake this pennance to my Aunt,
Just as I am, and openly I'll goe;
Where, if I be received again for currant,
And fortune smile once more—
Lur. Nay, nay, I'm satisfied, so farewel honest louzie Jack.
Wild. I cannot help it, some men meet with strange destinies.
If things go right thou mayst be hang'd, and I
May live to see't, and purchase thy apparel:
So farewel Tom, commend me to thy Polcat. [Exit.
Enter Lady, Nurse, Servant.
La. Now that I have my counsel ready, and my cause ripe;
The Judges all inform'd of the abuses;
Now that he should be gone.
Nur. No man knows whether,
And yet they talk he went forth with a Constable
That told him of strange business that would bring him
Money and Lands, and Heaven knows what; but they
Have search'd, and cannot find out such an Officer:
And as a secret, Madam, they told your man
Nicholas, whom you sent thither as a spie,
They had a shrewd suspition 'twas the devil
I' th' likeness of a Constable, that has tempted him:
By this time to strange things; there have been men
As rich as he, have met convenient rivers,
And so forth; many trees have born strange fruits:
D'ye think he has not hang'd himself?
La. If he be hang'd, who has his goods?
Nur. They are forfeited, they say.
La. He has hang'd himself for certain then,
Only to cosin me of my Girls portion.
Nur. Very likely.
La. Or did not the Constable carry him to some prison?
Nu. They thought on that too, and search'd every where.
La. He may be close for treason, perhaps executed.
Nu. Nay, they did look among the quarters too,
And mustered all the bridge-house for his night-cap.
Enter Servant.
Ser. Madam, here is the gentleman agen.
La. What Gentleman?
Ser. He that lov'd my young Mistriss.
La. Alas, 'tis Hartlove, 'twill but feed his melancholy.
To let him see Maria, since we dare not
Yet tell the world she lives; and certainly,
Did not the violence of his passion blind him,
He would see past her borrowed tongue and habit.
Nu. Please you entertain him awhile, Madam,
I'll cast about for something with your daughter.
La. Do what thou wot, pray Mr. Hartlove enter.
[Exit Ser. and Nur. severally.
Enter Hartlove.
Ha. Madam, I come to ask your gentle pardon.
La. Pardon, for what? you ne'r offended me.
Ha. Yes, if ye be the mother of Maria.
La. I was her mother, but that word is cancell'd,
And buried with her in that very minute
Her soul fled from her; we lost both our names
Of mother and of daughter.
Ha. Alas, Madam,
If your relation did consist but in
Those naked terms, I had a title nearer,
Since love unites more than the tie of blood;
No matter for the empty voice of mother;
Your nature still is left, which in her absence
Must love Maria, and not see her ashes
And memory polluted.
La. You amaze me, by whom?
Ha. By me, I am the vile profaner.
La. Why do you speak thus indiscreetly, Sir?
You ever honour'd her.
Ha. I did [a]live,
But since she died, I ha been a villain to her.
La. I do beseech you say not so; all this
Is but to make me know how much I sinn'd
In forcing her to marry.
Ha. Do not mock me,
I charge you by the Virgin you have wept for;
For I have done an impious act against her,
A deed able to fright her from her sleep,
And through her marble, ought to be reveng'd;
A wickedness, that if I should be silent,
You as a witness must accuse me for't.
La. Was I a witness?
Ha. Yes, you knew I lov'd
Maria once; or grant, you did but think so,
By what I ha profest, or she has told you,
Was't not a fault unpardonable in me,
When I should drop my tears upon her grave,
Yes, and proof sufficient.
La. To what?
Ha. That I, forgetful of my fame and vows
To fair Maria, e'r the worm could pierce
Her tender shroud, had chang'd her for another;
Did you not blush to see me turn a rebel?
So soon to court a shadow, a strange thing,
Without a name? Did you not curse my levity,
Or think upon her death with the less sorrow
That she had scap'd a punishment more killing,
Oh how I shame to think on't.
La. Sir, in my
Opinion, 'twas an argument of love
To your Maria, for whose sake you could
Affect one that but carried her small likeness.
Ha. No more, you are too charitable, but
I know my guilt, and will from henceforth never
Change words with that strange maid, whose innocent face
Like your Maria's won so late upon me:
My passions are corrected, and I can
Look on her now, and woman-kind, without
Love in a thought; 'tis thus, I came to tell you,
If after this acknowledgement, you'll be
So kind to shew me in what silent grave
You have dispos'd your daughter, I will ask
Forgiveness of all her dust, and never leave,
Till with a loud confession of my shame,
I wake her ghost, and that pronounce my pardon:
Will you deny this favour? then farewel,
I'll never see you more: ha!
Enter Nurse, Maria in her own apparel, after some shew of wonder, he goes towards her.
La. Be not deluded, Sir, upon my life
This is the soul whom you but thought Maria
In my daughters habit; what did you mean Nurse?
I knew she would but cozen you, is she not like now?
One dew unto another is not nearer.
Nu. She thinks she is a gentlewoman;
And that imagination has so taken her,
S[h]e scorns to speak, how handsomly she carries it,
As if she were a well bred thing, her body!
And I warrant you, what looks!
La. Pray be not foolish.
Ha. I disturb no body, speak but half a word
And I am satisfied, but what needs that?
I'll swear 'tis she.
La. But do not, I beseech you,
For trust me, Sir, you know not what I know.
Ha. Peace then,
And let me pray, she holds up her hands with me.
La. This will betray all.
Ha. Love ever honor'd,
And ever young, thou Soveraign of all hearts
Of all our sorrows, the sweet ease. [She weeps now.
Does she still cosin me?
Nur. You will see anon,
'Twas her desire, expect the issue, Madam.
Ha. My soul's so big, I cannot pray; 'tis she,
I will go nearer.
Enter Algripe, Lurcher, Boy.
Nur. Here's Mr. Algripe, and other strangers, Madam.
Al. Here good Lady,
Upon my knees I ask thy worships pardon;
Here's the whole summ I had with thy fair Daughter;
Would she were living, I might have her peace too,
And yield her up again to her old liberty:
I had a wife before, and could not marry;
My pennance shall be on that man that honor'd her,
To conferr some Land.
La. This is incredible.
Al 'Tis truth.
Lu. Do you know me, Sir?
Al. Ha, the Gentleman I deceiv'd.
Lur. My name is Lurcher.
Al. 'Shat have thy Mortgage.
Lu. I ha that already, no matter for the Deed
If you release it.
Al. I'll do't before thy witness;
But where's thy Sister? if she live I am happy, though
I conceal our contract, which was
Stolen from me with the Evidence of this Land.
The Boy goes to Maria, and gives her a paper; she wonders, and smiles upon Hartlove, he amaz'd, approaches her: afterward she shews it her mother, and then gives it to Hartlove.
Nur. Your daughter smiles.
Lur. I hope she lives, but where, I cannot tell, Sir.
Boy. Even here, and please you, Sir.
Al. How?
Boy. Nay, 'tis she;
To work thy fair way, I preserved you brother,
That would have lost me willingly, and serv'd ye
Thus like a boy; I served you faithfully,
And cast your plots [but] to preserve your credit;
Your foul ones I diverted to fair uses;
So far as you would hearken to my counsel;
That all the world may know how much you owe me.
Al. Welcome entirely, welcome my dear Alathe,
And when I lose thee agen, blessing forsake me:
Nay, let me kiss thee in these cloaths.
Lur. And I too,
And bless the time I had so wise a sister, wer't thou the little thief?
Boy. I stole the contract, I must confess,
And kept it to my self, it most concern'd me.
Ha. Co[n]tracted? this destroys his after marriage.
Ma. Dare you give this hand
To this young Gentleman? my heart goes with it.
Al. Maria alive! how my heart's exalted, 'tis my duty;
Take her Frank Hartlove, take her; and all joyes
With her; besides some Lands to advance her Joynture:
La. What I have is your own, and blessings crown ye.
Ha. Give me room,
And fresh air to consider, Gentlemen,
My hopes are too high.
Ma. Be more temperate,
Or I'll be Welsh again.
Al. A day of wonder.
Lur. Lady, your love, I ha kept my word; there was
A time, when my much suffering made me hate you,
And to that end I did my best to cross you:
And fearing you were dead, I stole your Coffin,
That you might never more usurp my Office:
Many more knacks I did, which at the Weddings
Shall be told of as harmless tales. [Shout within.
Enter Wildbrain.
Wild. Hollow your throats apieces, I am at home;
If you can roar me out again—
La. What thing is this?
Lur. A continent of Fleas: room for the Pageant;
Make room afore there; your kinsman Madam.
La. My kinsman? let me wonder!
Wild. Do, and I'll wonder too to see this company
At peace one with another; 'tis not worth
Your admiration, I was never dead yet;
Y' re merry Aunt, I see, and all your company:
If ye be not, I'll fool up, and provoke ye:
I will do any thing to get your love again:
I'll forswear Midnight Taverns and Temptations;
Give good example to your Grooms, the Maids
Shall go to bed, and take their rest this year;
None shall appear with blisters in their bellies.
Lur. And when you will fool again, you may go ring.
Wild. Madam, have mercy.
La. Your submission, Sir,
I gladly take; we will
Enquire the reason of this habit afterwards;
Now you are soundly sham'd, well, we restore you
Where's Toby?
Where's the Coachman?
Nur. He's a bed, Madam.
And has an ague, he says.
Lur. I'll be his Physitian.
La. We must afoot then.
Lur. E'er the Priest ha done
Toby shall wait upon you with his Coach,
And make your Flanders Mares dance back agen we'ye,
I warrant you Madam you are mortified,
Your sute shall be granted too.
Wild. Make, make room afore the[re].
La. Home forward with glad hearts, home child.
Ma. I wait you.
Ha. On joyfully, the cure of all our grief,
Is owing to this pretty little Thief. [Exeunt omnes.