SCENE IV.
Enter Bright and Newcut.
Bright. Save you, merchant Plotwell!
New. Master Plotwell, citizen and merchant, save you!
Bright. Is thy uncle
Gone the wish'd voyage?
Plot. Yes, he's gone; and, if
He die by th' way, hath bequeath'd me but some
Twelve hundred pound a year in Kent; some three-
Score thousand pound in money, besides jewels, bonds,
And desperate debts.
New. And dost not thou fall down,
And pray to th' winds to sacrifice him to
Poor John and mackarel?
Bright. Or invoke some rock
To do thee justice?
New. Or some compendious cannon
To take him off i' th' middle?
Plot. And why, my tender,
Soft-hearted friends?
Bright. What, to take thee from the Temple,
To make thee an old juryman, a Whittington?
New. To transform thy plush to penny-stone; and scarlet
Into a velvet jacket, which hath seen
Aleppo twice, is known to the great Turk,
Hath 'scap'd three shipwrecks to be left off to thee,
And knows the way to Mexico as well as the map?
Bright. This jacket surely was employed in finding
The north-east passage out, or the same jacket
That Coriat[188] died in.
Plot. Very good.
New. In Ovid
There is not such a metamorphosis
As thou art now. To be turned into a tree
Or some handsome beast, is courtly to this.
But for thee, Frank, O transmutation!
Of satin chang'd to kersey hose I sing.[189]
'Slid, his shoes shine too.[190]
Bright. They have the Gresham dye.
Dost thou not dress thyself by 'em? I can see
My face in them hither.
Plot. Very pleasant, gentlemen.
Bright. And faith, for how many years art thou bound?
Plot. Do you take me for a 'prentice?
New. Why, then, what office
Dost thou bear in the parish this year? Let's feel:
No batteries[191] in thy head, to signify
Th' art a constable?
Bright. No furious jug broke on it
In the king's name?
Plot. Did you contrive this scene
By the way, gentlemen?
New. No; but the news
Thou shouldst turn tradesman, and this pagan dress,
In which if thou shouldst die, thou wouldst be damn'd
For an usurer, is comical at the Temple.
We were about to bring in such a fellow
For an apostate in our antimasque.
Set one to keep the door, provide half-crown rooms,
For I'll set bills up of thee. What shall I
Give thee for the first day?
Bright. Ay, or second?
For thou'lt endure twice or thrice coming in.
Plot. Well, my conceited Orient friends, bright offspring
O' th' female silkworm and tailor male, I deny not
But you look well in your unpaid-for glory;
That in these colours you set out the Strand,
And adorn Fleet Street; that you may laugh at me,
Poor working-day o' th' city, like two festivals
Escap'd out of the Almanac.
New. Sirrah Bright,
Didst look to hear such language beyond Ludgate?
Bright. I thought all wit had ended at Fleetbridge;
But wit that goes o' th' score, that may extend,
If't be a courtier's wit, into Cheapside.
Plot. Your mercer lives there, does he? I warrant you,
He has the patience of a burnt heretic.
The very faith that sold to you these silks,
And thinks you'll pay for 'em, is strong enough
To save the infidel part o' th' world or Antichrist.
Bright. W' are most mechanically abused.
New. Let's tear his jacket off.
Bright. A match! take that side.
Plot. Hold, hold!
Bright. How frail a thing old velvet is! it parts
With as much ease and willingness as two cowards.
[They tear off his jacket.
New. The tend'rest weed that ever fell asunder.
Plot. Ha' you your wits? What mean you?
Bright. Go, put on
One of thy Temple suits, and accompany us,
Or else thy dimity breeches will be mortal.
Plot. You will not strip me, will you?
New. By thy visible ears, we will.
Bright. By this two-handed beaver, which is so thin
And light, a butterfly's wings put to't would make it
A Mercury's flying hat, and soar aloft.
Plot. But do you know, to how much danger
You tempt me? Should my uncle know I come
Within the air of Fleet Street——
New. Will you make
Yourself fit for a coach again, and come
Along with us?
Plot. Well, my two resolute friends,
You shall prevail. But whither now are your
Lewd motions bent?
New. We'll dine at Roseclap's: there
We shall meet Captain Quartfield and his poet;
They shall show us another fish.
Bright. But, by the way, we have agreed to see
A lady, you mechanic.
Plot. What lady?
New. Hast not thou heard of the new-sprung lady?
Bright. One
That keeps her coachman, footboy, woman, and spends
A thousand pounds a year by wit.
Plot. How? wit!
New. That is her patrimony, sir. 'Tis thought
The fortune she is born to will not buy
A bunch of turnips.
Plot. She is no gamester, is she? Nor carries false dice?
Bright. No, but has a tongue,
Were't in a lawyer's mouth, would make him buy
All young heirs near him.
Plot. But does no man know from whence she came?
Bright. As for her birth, she may
Choose her own pedigree: it is unknown
Whether she be descended of some ditch
Or duchess.
New. She's the wonder of the court
And talk o' th' town.
Plot. Her name?
Plot. I've heard of her. They say she does fight duels,
And answers challenges in wit.
Bright. She has been thrice in the field.
Plot. I' th' field?
New. Yes, in Spring Garden;
Has conquer'd, with no second but her woman,
A Puritan, and has return'd with prizes.
Plot. And no drum beat before her?
New. No, nor colours
Flourish'd. She has made a vow never to marry,
'Till she be won by stratagem.
Plot. I long to see her.
Bright. I' th' name of Guildhall, who comes here?