 | Wit in A Constable |  |
Actus secundus.
Scena prima.
Covet, Clara, Maudlin.Cov.
You will provoke me.
Clar.
No matter:
Although you be my uncle, and so nature
Binds me to observe you, ile not be oblig'd
To what the phlegmaticke humour of your age
Strives to enforce upon me: I was borne
Free, an inheritresse to an ample fortune,
Of which you doe pervert the use, and trust me,
Ile be no longer tame and suffer it.
Cov.
Suffer what? you're us'd
Too well: if you complaine of this, I shall
Study to be more harsh.
Clar.
Doe; you shall not, as you had wont,
Thinke to attire me in blacke Grogram,
Daub'd o're with Sattin lace, as if I were
Daughter, and heire apparent to a Tayler,
Who from the holiday Gownes of sixe neat fish-wives
Had stole the remnants made the thrifty garment.
Nor shal you sir (as tis a frequent custome,
Cause you're a worthy Alderman of a Ward)
Feed me with Custard, and perpetuall White-broth,
Sent from the Lord Majors, or the Shriefes feast,
Till a new dinner from the common hall
Supply the large defect.
Cov.
You'll leave this language?
Clar.
Leave to use me so then:
Y'ave made my selfe, your daughter, and my woman,
Sup with a penyworth of Lettice, under
Pretence 'twould make us sleep well: your full morsells
(Had not the vertue of Clay wall, and Oatmeale
Preserv'd my maid) ere this she'd bin shrunk up
To th'bignesse of a Squirrill.
Maud.
Any Dwarfe
might without stretching his small fingers, have
Spand me about the waste.
Clar.
Nor shall you,
(As sure tis your intention) marry me
To th'quondam fore-man of your shop, (exalted
To be your Cash-keeper) a limber fellow,
Fit onely for deare Nan, his schoole-fellow,
A Grocers daughter, borne in Bread-street, with
Whom he has used to goe to Pimblico,
And spend ten groats in Cakes and Christian Ale,
And by the way has courted her with fragments,
Stoln from the learned Legends of Knights Errants,
Or from the glory of her fathers trade,
The Knight o' the Burning Pestle.
Cov.
Sure the Devill
Has entred her ith' likenesse of an Eele,
Her tongue's so slippery: Minion—
Clar.
Ile not be frighted
As are your Prentises, with Little ease,
Or shewing them the Beadle. In plain termes,
I doe not meane to incorporate with a Salter,
Or any of those thriving trades, to have
My shooes lickt o're each saturday night
By th'under prentise; they shine so brightly
With soot and kitching-stuffe, that I next morning
May spare my glasse, and dresse my head by their
I must be marry'd instantly a virgin:
Of my full age, setting aside all nicenesse
May justly claime a husband.
Cov.
Have but patience, ile wed thee to a Knight.
Clare.
What is hee, one oth' Post sir, or some such
As was in the old famous Ballad mention'd:
He that has forty pounds per annum, by
Which Charter I should be undutifull,
And take the wall of my ag'd Grandame: No,
Ile have a Courtly gentleman, whose wit
Shall equall his estate, and that so large,
As't shall afford me a sufficient joyncture.
Cov.
This Knight shall do't, or if you like not him,
What say you to Sir Geffery Holdfast's sonne,
The famous Schollar?
Clare.
If he be a Parson;
And I his wife, I sure shall make my friends
Lucky to horse-flesh: No, I will have one
That shall maintaine my Coach, and foure faire horses:
Not such thin jades, nor such a crazy Chariot,
As i've seene us'd by Citizens to convey
Their wives with leisure to their Country houses,
(For feare the late Plum-pudding they had eaten
Fryed to their Breakfast, should with too much jogging
Broyle on their queasie stomacks) One that shall
Maintaine me a Sedan, and two strong varlets,
That so I may not need the Common men Mules,
With their wood-Litters, with nineteene at end of them,
The usuall shelters, which the Gallants carry
Their wenches to their Chambers in: In briefe,
If you can find me any where a husband
That I can like, I will allow your choyse;
If not, ile take my owne; so good day to you.
Pray meditate upon it.
Ex. Clare, Maud:
Cov.
This is the maddest wench: would I were rid of her,
She vexes me more than her Portion's worth;
But if she stoope not to my Country Knight,
(Whom I had rather marry to my daughter)
She shall ha grasing.
Enter Formall.
For.
Sir, there are a brace of gentlemen without,
Desire admittance to you.
Cov.
Let them enter.
For.
I shall denote your pleasure.
Ex. For.
Cov.
Some young heires,
To borrow money upon Morgages.
Enter Holdfast, Brave, Tristram.
Hol.
I shall observe my Cosens rule, nere fear me.
Cov.
Save you sir.
Hol.
You do not think me damn'd sir, you bestow
That salutation on me.
Cov.
Good sir no.
Whom would you speake with here?
Hol.
Sir, my discourse
Poynts at one Alderman Covet.
Cov.
I am the party.
Hol.
Good Mr. Covet, I covet your acquaintance:
I understand you have a daughter is
Of most unknowne perfections.
Cov.
She is as heaven made her.
Hold.
She goes naked then,
The Tailer has no hand in her; may I see her?
Cov.
I must desire your name first.
Hold.
My name is Holdfast.
Cov.
Sonne to sir Geff. Holdfast.
Hold.
His proper sonne and heire, and I am come
To see your Daughter and your Neece.
Cov.
Came you from Cambridge lately.
Hold.
I come from Cambridge:
What do you see in these my looks, should make you
Judge me such a Coxecombe.
Your father writ me word, his son that should
Come up to see my Daughter and my Neece,
Was a rare schollar, wholly given to's bookes.
Hold.
My father was an arrant asse for's labour,
I ne're read book in all my life, except
The Counter scuffle, or the merry Gossips,
Raynard the Foxe, Tom Thumbe, or Gargan tua,
And those i've quite forgotten: I a schollar!
He lyes in's throat that told you so.
Trist.
On my Conscience
You may believe him: he scarce ere saw booke,
Vnlesse the Chronicle in an iron Chaine,
In's fathers Hall: for learning sir, except
What's in a Horse, a Hawke, or hownd, he knowes not
How to expound your meaning.
Cov.
I mar'le sir Geff. knowing my aversion
From any of these courses, should bring up
His sonne to all of them: nay, write me word,
Knowing my love to learning, he had him
A schollar purposely: pray sir resolve me,
Are you sir Gefferies sonne?
Hold.
I am a Bastard else.
Cov.
Sir Gefferies sonne of Eppinge?
Hold.
Yes, of Eppinge,
One that will venture five hundred pounds upon his horse,
Soone as the proudest hee that lives in London,
Ile play my Crop-eare 'gainst my Lord Majors Steed,
And all his furniture: I doe intend
To scoure Hide Parke this summer.
Trist.
didst give him
His Oates this morning? Shall I see your daughter.
Did he drink's water hastily? Your Neece
I'de be acquainted with.
Cov.
Sir, you must pardon me, you're not the man
I tooke you for.
Hold.
You did not take me for an Asse I hope.
Cov.
O by no meanes, but they cannot be seene
Conveniently this morning: another time,
At your best leasure, I shall not deny you.
Hold.
I know 'tis but oth' sixes; and I hate
Liquor of that complexion: pray commend me
To both my sweet-hearts. Tristram come lets backe,
And, as my Cosen sayes, drinke lusty sacke.
Exeunt Holdfast and Tristram.
Cov.
There's some deceite in this, perhaps some gallant,
Knowing my purpose with Sir Geffery Holdfast,
Has tane his name upon him: ile dispatch
A messenger straight to him: whom have we here?
Enter Thoroug. and Formall.
Form.
Sir, that's the Alderman my Master.
Thor:
Is this the venerable Man, to whom
This goodly Mansion is impropriate:
I should negotiate with his reverence
About authentick businesse.
Cov:
This rather
Should be sir Geff. sonne, his words and habit
Speake him most learned. I'me the person, pray
Let me be bold to crave your name.
Thor.
My appellation or pronomen, as
(It is tearm'd by the Latins) is hight Ieremie,
But my Cognomen, as the English gather,
Is called Holdfast.
Cov.
This is he certainely; are you, I pray
Sir Gefferies sonne of Eppinge?
Thor.
The Nominalls, the Thomists, all the sects
Of old and moderne Schoole-men, doe oblige me,
To pay to that Sir Geffery fillial duty.
Cov.
I'me glad to heare it, tother was some varlet,
I shall finde out and punish: Sir, y'are welcome;
I gesse your businesse; tis about a match,
Or with my Neece, or Daughter: which you like,
Shall be at your dispose: if not, your businesse.
Thor.
My businesse is of procreation, or as
The Civill Lawyers learnedly doe paraphrase,
Or what you please to terme it.
Cov.
How am I blest, that this rare schollar shall
Be match'd into my family? Within there;
Neece, Daughter, both come hither.
Thor.
One at once sir,
Twill satisfie; the Canon does prohibit
Us Polygamy.
Enter Clara, Gray.
Cov.
Sir, this is my onely daughter, this my neece,
Pray know them better.
Thor.
Faire types, nay Orbs of beauty, J salute you,
Each in his proper altitude.
Graie.
Heyday, this is some Fortune-teller.
Clare.
Tis Thorowgood, you must not seeme to know him.
Cov.
Daughter and Neece, this is a gentleman,
My care has pick'd out, as a most fit husband
For one of you; which he can soonest fancy,
Heare him but speake, and he will put you downe
Ten Universities, and Jnnes of Court,
Jn twentie sillables. Good Mr. Holdfast
Speake learnedly to th'wenches; though J say't,
They have both good capacities.
Thor.
Most rubicund, stelliferous splendant Ladyes,
The ocular faculties, by which the beames
Of love are darted into every soule,
Or humane essence, have into my breast
Convey'd this Ladies lustre: and J can
Admire no other object; therefore beauty
Your pardon, if J onely doe addresse
In termes Scholasticke, and in Metaphors
My phrase to her.
Graie.
J shall not
Envy my Cosens happinesse.
Thor.
Y'are full of Candor;
Jf you will love me Lady, ile approach your eares,
Not in a garbe Domesticke, or termes vulgar,
In the Chaldean, or Arabicke tongues,
Expound the Talmud to you, and the Rabbines,
Then read the Dialect of the Alanits,
Or Ezion Gebor, which the people use
Five leagues beyond the Sun-rising, in stead
Of pages to attend you, I will bring
Sects of Philosophers and queint Logicians,
Weel Procreat by learned art, and I
Will generate new broods of Schollers on you,
Which shall defend opinions far more various
Then all the Sectaries of Amsterdam
Have ever vented.
Covet.
Learned, learned young man,
How happy am I in thee?
Thor.
Doe but love,
Ile call the Muses from the sacred hill
To Enucleat your beauty: I my selfe
(After in loftier numbers I have sung
Your fam'd Encomiums) will convert to poet,
And for your sake Ile write the city annals,
In famous meter which shall far surpasse
Sir Guy of Warwickes history: or Iohn Stows upon
The custard with the foure and twenty Nooks
At my Lord Majors feast.
Cov.
How am I ravisht!
Thor.
Whose brave show hereafter
Shall be no more set forth with stalking pageants,
Nor children ride for angels nor lowd actors
Pronounce bold speeches, I will teach his Henchboyes
Serjeants and trumpeters to act and save
The city all that charges: Nay Ile make a new
Found engin; which without fire shall keepe his
Whitebroath warm til his return from Westminster
Nor shall the Aldermens daughters, who have
Dreamt at least six nights before of guilded
Marchpane, forfeit their serious longing: Ile have
Horses with their Saint Georges on them, that shall gallop
Into their handkerchers.
You promise wonders.
Covet.
Hold your tongue, hees able
To performe more by's learning.
Thor.
The crosse
And standerd in Cheapeside I will convert
To Hercules pillars: and the little conduit
That weepes in lamentation for the Church,
Remov'd that did leane on, it shall be still
Like the great tun at Heidleberge fild with wine,
And alwayes running, that the prentises
Shall not on Sundayes need to frequent Tauerns,
And forfeit their indentures.
Covet.
Still more miraculous.
Thor.
The great conduit
Shall be a magezin of sacke, and Smithfield
A Romish Cirque or Grecian Hippodrom,
My Lord Maiors gennet shall not die without
An Elegy, nor any cittizen breake,
But have a dolefull ditty writ upon him.
Val.
Save you gentlemen.
Covet.
Noble sir Timothy, and your friend both
Welcome, this is my neice, & that my daughter, pray
Be pleas'd to know them, Sir honor me to walke,
I'de have some private conference with you,
The house sir Timothy is at your command.
Grace.
Cosen what would these gentlemen?
Clare.
Truth I know not,
Ile venture my discretion to his nose there,
And that appeares a rich one, they are two
Country Ideots whom thy father would
Put upon us for husbands.
Grace.
Very likely,
Pray gentlemen your businesse.
Tim.
Speak for me Valentine.
Val.
Ladies wee'r come to see you, fame does give
You the attribute of faire and witty.
Clare.
Yet our wits you see sir will not serve to keepe
Fooles from our company.
Very right yfaith.
Val.
That tartnesse
Becomes you prettily, and might serve to fright
Young linnen-drapers or some millaner
That does with gloves and bracelets stolne from's
Master court you, a haberdasher would have shak'd
His blocke-head (as if he had beene trying a Dutch
Felt out) and with a shrug departed, but we are
Gentlemen Ladies, and no city foremen
That never dare be ventrous on a beauty,
Unlesse when wenches take them up at playes
To intice them at the next licentious Taverne
To spend a supper on them, we are creatures
Deserve you at your best and noblest value,
And so expect you'l use us.
Tim.
Very right, this is
A countrey gentleman my neighbor I,
A trusty and coragious country knight.
Clare.
I doe believe you sir, your face does tel me,
You'r one that feed on bacon and bagpudding,
Your nose by its complexion does betray
Your frequent drinking country Ale with lant in't,
Have you no hobnayls in your boots, driven in
To save the precious leather from the stones
That pave the streets of London.
Grace.
Is not sir your
Cloake new turn'd, the aged three pil'd velvet
Was not your grandams peticote this jetkin
Made by your grandsire at his first translation
From Clowne to Gentleman, and since reserv'd
An heire long to the family, and this sword
The parish weapon?
Tim.
Very right agen.
Clare.
Now for you sir.
Who of two fooles doe yet appeare the wisest,
Can your ingenious noddle thinke that we
Bred in the various pleasures of the city,
Would for your sake turne beasts and grase ith' country,
And sell it at next market and lay up
Out of the precious Income as much coyne
In thred bare groates, mill-sixpences, and pence,
As will suffice to finde the house in Candles
And Sope a twelve month after.
Grace.
Nor can wee
Spin our owne smockes out of the flax which growes
Behind your Dovehouse, no, nor card the wooll
Must make us peticoates things (to say truth)
Not worth the taking up.
Val.
They've Magicke in their tounges
They have so daunted me, I thinke I shall
Turne foole and get me? hem without reply.
Clare.
All the company,
We can injoy there is each day to walke
To the next farmers wife, whose whole discourse
Is what price Barly beares, or how her husband
Sould his last yoake of Oxen: other meetings
We cannot have, except it be at Churchales,
When the sweet bag-pipe does draw forth the
Damsells to frisque about the May poles, or at
Weddings, where the best cheare is, wholsome
Stewd broth made of legs of porke and turnips.
Grace.
Yes, at Christnings, where the good
Wives, stead of burnt Wine and Comfets,
Drinke healths to th'memory of all christian soules
In Ale, scarce three houres old: eat cakes more tough
Then glew or farthing ginger bread: then talke
Of the last Blasing-Starre, or some new monster:
Then drinke, and cry heaven blesse us from the Spaniard,
While the learn'd Vicars wife expounds the Ballad
Of 'twas a Ladies daughter in Paris properly,
And so breakes up the wise assembly.
Ual.
And you
That are the precious paragons of the City,
Who scorne these harmelesse sports: can have your meetings
At Islington, and Green Goose faire, and sip
Be moistned with your virgin dew, then prattle
How that you dreamt last night that Iohn the Mercer,
Or Tom the Drapers man at London-stone
Was in your bed, and what sweet work he made there.
Tim.
Very right, and kis'd you oftner
Then ere the good man did his Cow, and hug'd you
As the Divell hug'd the Witch, that's right now.
Val.
When you'r married
(For that you will be, or else run away
With Costermongers, Mountebankes, or Taylors)
Your husbands are more subject to you then
Their bondmen are, whom by profuse expense
You breake beyond redemption from the Indies; the
Straights, or Barbary, see them lodged in Ludgate,
And then turne pricking semsters, till that trade
Fayling, you take your selves (as to the last refuge)
To the old occupation; till the Marshall
Carry you to Bridewell, of which you'r free,
Even by your fathers charters that have beene
Sometimes the masters of it, there Ile leave you,
So farewell wildcats.
Tim.
Very right as I am a gentleman.
Grace.
I like his spirit well Clare, such a fellow
Or none shall be my husband.
Enter Thorowgood.
Thor.
helpe me to laugh good wenches, I haue talk'd
Thy Unckle Clare into so free an humour,
That hees resolv'd straight to take forth the licence,
And marry us ith' morning.
Clare.
What od fellow's this?
Know you him Cosen Grace.
Thor.
Prethee good wit noe more, we've overcome
All forraigne enemies and tis unfit
To war among ourselves.
Grace.
This is the pedant
My father brought to mocke us, good thine stuffe,
Get thee home to thy parish,
And instruct
We have no zeale to learne.
Thor.
Life they'l perswade me out of my selfe,
Clare, Grace, know you not me, not Thorowgood.
Amb.
Thorowgood, pray put your trickes on some body,
More easie to be wrought on, Thorowgood, Ha, ha, ha.
Exe.
Thor.
What should those wenches meane, the five and sheares
Cannot resolve this mystery: they know me
Better then I can know my selfe: 'twas she
Advis'd me to this habit to deceive
Her uncles prying eyes, and why then
Should they abuse me thus? the rest were made
But fooles in Quarto, but I finde my selfe
An asse in Folio: Ile away, and if
I quit them not with an abuse as fine,
Ile say there is no quickning spirit in wine.
Exit.
Explicit Actus Secundus.
| Wit in A Constable | |