University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

An Apartment splendidly furnished, after the fashion of King James's time, representing a Saloon in Dalgarno's House.
Enter Skourlie, and Page yawning.
Skour.
What, boy, asleep?

Page.
My Lord Dalgarno leaves me
No rest, sir. I was up all night, i'th'city,
With music, under master Heriot's windows,
Piping at his niece, Marg'ret.

Skour.
Hum! I'll wait
His lordship's leisure.
[Exit Page.
What, Dalgarno's glance
Burns upon Marg'ret still? Why, I'm a gull
At fifty years of age, thus to affect
A chitty spinster—yet, does she inflame
My thoughts, almost to slight my kinder mistress,
The wealth I've woo'd and won, through good and ill.
Dalgarno's schemes have paid me passably,
But luck has made him rash, and frow'rd to deal with,
And it were wise to cut the knot that binds us,
Before I find a noose at t'other end.

Enter Dalgarno, with letters; he calls to the Page.
Dalg.
Some wax! Dear woman loves a correspondent:
To thrive with her a man must write his perj'ry,
And be a rogue on record. Honest Skourlie!
My ferret! mine edge-tool! my man of law!

Skour.
Your servant still.

Re-enter Page, with sealing wax and taper, which he places on the table, and exit.
Dalg.
My lord of Buckingham
Wants money. [sealing the letters.]


Skour.
Will you lend it?

Dalg.
Why, my purse
Is much extenuated. Luck has run
Against me with the dice. Then, my adventure
In last year's pirate-cruiser, proved a loss:
And inland, not a traveller of mark
Has, for these three months, plumped into the toil
Of our night-rangers: yet these gentry still
Eat at my charge. Well, desp'rate fortunes look
For desp'rate ventures.

Skour.
I'd have no such crew
Of broken gentlemen; they live too high,
And game too deep, to make the masque and pistol
Keep them respectably, and yield a profit.
Then if good luck does blow a windfall, comes
Some rogue or other, for a hushing bribe,
'Till I am almost drain'd to begg'ry.

Dalg.
Thou!
Thou'rt made of gold! thy very self an ingot,
As hard, as dull, as ductile, and as dingy.
Tush! never fear! wert thou tried, cast, condemned,
I could obtain thy pardon through the duke.
So, in a word, his Grace must have this money,
And thou must lend it.

Skour.
I, my Lord!

Dalg.
No doubt;
You shall have my security.

Skour.
My Lord,—

Dalg.
Good, round security. Have you forgot
The loan I made to Nigel in your name,
Taking a mortgage of his patrimony
Worth ten times what I lent? To-morrow ends
The term of payment; you foreclose: and I
Possess the land. Is that security?

Skour.
He yet may pay the mortgage.

Dalg.
I have lull'd
His diligence: fool'd him, with daily hopes
Of getting from the king some certain monies
He sues for at th'Exchequer; while the duke,
My right good friend, keeps back his poor petitions
From the king's sight and knowledge.

Peppercole (without.)
Pep.
Tell not me,
I have th'access.

Dalg.
'Tis Captain Peppercole.
As thou'rt my business, so is he my pleasure,
Fetches and carries like a dog: can bark
As loud, and take the lash as patiently:
And for a go-between, there's nothing serves
Like your coarse fellow, whom no husband frets at,
Nor jealous brother doubts.

Enter Peppercole: he is dressed in a thickset velvet jerkin, having a patch over one eye, and part of one cheek: buff gloves, with huge tops, almost to the elbows; and a large black-hilted back sword and dagger, in a very wide buff belt; he looks back angrily on his entrance, as chiding the servants who have delayed him.
Pep.
Distinguish, 'twixt
Vile dun, and graced Soldado!

Dalg.
(to Peppercole)
Here's employ
For thy exub'rant humour: see this letter
To Margaret Heriot's hands.

Pep.
She still avoids
All chance of interview.

Dalg.
As wild as birds
In a wet autumn!

Pep.
From her wench I gather
That my young madam's notion doth incline
To your companion—pish! the Scottish lordling,
Whose lodging is so deep a secret—

Dalg.
Nigel?

Pep.
'Tis he.

Dalg.
Why then my path lies clear! To-morrow,
At six o'clock, we have him! Mind, no grace,
(To Skourlie)
Not half an hour. If he pay not his mortgage,
Ev'n as the clock strikes, I enforce my forfeit,
And become master of his fate.

Re-enter Page.
Page.
My lord,
Your lordship's barber.

Pep.
Strappet! prince of praters!

Dalg.
Bully, beware of treas'nous words against
The barber! He's your master paramount!
He clips the proudest; makes the bravest bleed;
Comes, as the Gaul of old strode up the senate,
And plucks the grey patrician by the chin:
Nor death, nor mighty love, more universal:
For every throat he has his weapon bared,
And 'twixt his thumb and finger flits the breath
Of all men's nostrils: Scandalum of him
Must be a præmunire at the least.
Admit him.
[Exit Page.
(To Skourlie)
So, you'll see to Nigel.

Skour.
(significantly)
Nigel,
Or whomso else your Marg'ret may affect,
No means of mine shall be untried to crush.

Re-enter Page, ushering in Strappet, with a barber's basin under his arm, in one hand a dressing case, and in the other a note.
Strap.
Noon, my lord, past; please be adorn'd to-day?

Dalg.
(Sitting down).
What have you there?

Strap.
(Delivering the note).
Note, from Lord Nigel.

[Dalgarno reading the note, while Strappet trims him with scissars and curling irons.]
Dalg.
Call
At three—must wait at home until that hour
For Master Heriot—

Strap.
Aye, my dame was saying
The good man meant to call—pretty niece Marg'et
To fetch him thence, upon her new white poney,
Just for an airing—promised my good woman
To let us see the nag—A perfect pattern,
I'm told, that hobby.

Dalg.
Marg'ret call at Nigel's!
Now could one trace what nook he makes his lodging,
Hidden so charily from boon companions,
And yet so visited by bonny wenches,
One might give chase to this young mistress. Friend,
Know'st thou his lodging?

Strap.
Oh, undoubtedly:
It is my pride to be his body shaver.
Chin some what long: Takes me twelve seconds more
His chin, than any nobleman's whereof
I have the handling—Always grieve to find
Friend's faces long.

Dalg.
And where then is this lodging?

Strap.
Afraid I grazed—black patch will set all right:
The DUKE had one, but two day past, since which
Four yards three quarters of this black, believe me,
Have been cut up in patches for the courtiers.

(Puts on a Patch.)
Dalg.
And Nigel's lodging, fellow?

Strap.
Soft, my Lord,
You will get touched again.

Dalg.
And so shall you,
Unless—

Strap.
In truth, he little likes to have
His lodging known,—purse, possibly, but low,—
So, in your lordship's ear—I'm sure your lordship
Will not betray my information—then,
Between ourselves, he lodges—in my house.

Dalg.
What, somewhere by Paul's wharf?

Strap.
My noble lord,
Why not? looks airy out—ships all alive—
The courtiers to and fro upon the river,
Betwixt Whitehall and Greenwich, as the Court
Shifts:—Always see the courtiers with the tide,
Saving your lordship's presence.

Dalg.
Well, and which
Of all the crooked alleys, that compose
That wilderness of tenements, may be thine?

Strap.
Long pole, next the old Boar: no doubt; you know
The old Boar new revived—superb for spare-ribs—
Landlord at door, fat man, red doublet: worth
A thousand pound, they tell me,—pretty penny,
Those griskins:—better singeing of pig's faces,
Than beautifying courtiers'!—you'll excuse
My little joke, my lord.

Dalg.
You're the kind husband
Of pretty Bridget, then, whom we have heard of?

Strap.
Heard of, my lord?—How so, my lord?

Dalg.
O, nothing.
[Strappet pauses aghast.
Get on, sir—only when a lodger wins
The friendship of a buxom landlady—

Strap.
Surely Lord Nigel says not that?

Dalg.
Mere friendship—
Get on.

Strap.
You're almost finish'd—

Dalg.
Faith, well nigh:
Two minutes more would finish me outright.
Order the horses.

[Calling to the side scene.
Strap.
For my wife, (turning back a loose hair)
one touch
To bring that straggler in. (puts up his instruments.)


Pep.
(to Dalgarno, coming forward and shaking his head at Strappet,)
Had I not reason?

Dalg.
(to Pep.)
For once.

Pep.
(Advancing upon Strappet.)
Why, then, the curse of tongues be on thee;
Rust eat thy razors up—disuse resolve
The bristles of thy brushes—

Strap.
(to Dalgarno.)
Just a word—

Pep.
(walking Strappet backward to the side scene.)
The edge forsake thy polished steel—

Strap.
Like fortune
Wait on thy vulgar brass!

Pep.
(pushing him off.)
Moths gorge thy napkins,
And splitting tooth-aches waste thy case of combs!

[Exit Strappet.
Dalg.
At last, she takes the air, this pouting Marg'ret!
My boots, boy: come, now, if I do but find
Her pretty face where this old babbler points me,
[Page brings boots, which Dalgarno puts on.
It shall go hard, but I will part my damsel
From her dull uncle. You, smooth-faced iniquity, to Skourlie)

And copper bully, (to Peppercole)
westward-hoe: wait for me
At the Park-gate, by Charing.—Our fair citizens,
When they go ambling, much affect the Park—
And look you've there some sturdy swagg'rer, strong
I' the arm, and not too weak i'th'conscience, with
My page and horses—
[Going and looking behind to Peppercole, who is following him.]
And, dost hear, a pillion
To suit a dainty dame.

Exit, followed by Peppercole and Page.
Skour.
(alone)
Yes, I'll be there,
To balk that prank, I ween. And if I do,
Why not step in at once, with honest offers,
And foil my rakish lord? True, my first youth
Is gone; but I have better metal, wealth,
To make the charge withal; and woman's heart
Is seldom mailed in such high temper'd stuff,
As to be gold proof. Courage; we will try her!

[Exit.