 | The Damoiselle, or The New Ordinary |  |
Scene I.
Francis—Wat.Fra.
I shall repent me, sir, that ere I yeilded,
In that faire Noble way, if you expresse
Your selfe in this regardlesse of my honour.
Wat.
J like a Whore, withall my heart, that talkes
So like an honest woman.
Fra.
Can you expect
A Chast and constant Wife of her, Whom you
Have wrought to Lewdnesse before Marriage?
Or may J not as well deserve as well in bringing
A Maidenhead into your Marriage-bed,
As a polluted Body?
Wat.
Here's a coyle,
For a poore bit afore-hand! Is it so?
'Heart, if a man bespeak a Tavern Feast
For next day Dinner; and give earnest for't
To half the value, (as my Faith and Troth
J think, is somewhat towards your Marriage payment
To be to morrow) Will not the Hostesse give him
A Modicum o're night to stay his stomack?
Your Father comes: Jle whisper yet more reason.
Enter Dryground disguis'd. Alice.
Dry.
Now pretty Mr. Alice, you see the end
I had upon you: All the scope thereof
Tending to your contentment. Are you pleas'd?
Ali.
So well, that could I but shake off the feare
I durst prouounce; nay, boast my happinesse,
To be above my Virgin hopes, or wishes.
Dry.
Let your feare vanish then: And, if this night,
The happiness you are ambitious of,
Together with your Fathers leave and blessing
Crown not your Bed, let all the Infamy
Due to all perjur'd Wretches, that have wrong'd
Beauty and Chastity be branded here.
Ali.
The faire respect I have, sir, to your Noblesse;
For what you have already shown me, bars
Mine eares 'gainst protestation. I dare trust you.
Dry.
As I have trusted you with my whole project,
My discreet Alice, further then I dare trust
My Instrument your Brother; though he thinks
He understands it all. Yonder he is,
Profoundly Love-struck too, J make no doubt.
Fry.
Fye! Can you be so lew'd? Is that your reason?
Wat.
Yes; can the Parish Parson give you better?
Fra.
His Parish Bull's as civill.
Wat.
Well no more.
Ile talke with your Father about it.
Fra.
J with your Sister, and to better purpose.
Dry.
Now Wat, what think you of my course, and habit?
Wat.
As J love mischiefe, and desire to live by't;
It is the daintiest course.—O, brave sir Humphrey,
How I am taken with your Shape! Old Osbright,
The Father of the Swindgers; so much talk'd on
Could nere ha' borne it up so. Nor his Daughter,
That was French born indeed, could ere have clipp'd,
And Frenchified our English better, then
She counterfeits to Coxcombes that do Court her:
With her fine Fee-fees, and her Laisse-moys;
O, J am tickled with it.
Dry.
A, ha, my Lad.
Wat.
slid J could dote upon you. Had J been
Your Son now, how I could have honour'd you!
Though I had kept a Precept by t, I care not.
Dry.
Notable Reprobate.
Wat.
The Devill sure
Ought me a mischiefe, when he enabled that
Old Wretch, my Father to beget me. Oh,
Tis in my bones; I feele it in my Youth:
I know from whence the Pocks is now descended.
The Gout begets it. There's no Usurers Son,
But's born with an hereditary spice on't.
Dry.
Had J rak'd Limbo, as J did the Compter,
I were not better fitted with a Copesmate.
Wat.
'slight, I could ask you blessing.
Dry.
And I think,
That curtesie you have seldome done your Father.
Wat.
Nere since I grew to any understanding:
Nor (as I know) before, but whipt and held to't.
Dry.
Well Wat. You see how far I have trusted you,
To have the second hand in our great work;
Our Project here. Though you must seem my Servant,
You are like to have the better share, if you agree.
Upon the Match, and make your selfe my Son.
How like you your new Mistresse, sir, my Daughter;
The Maidenhead here, the new Ordinary—
The Damoyselle, or what you please to call her?
What ist a Match Wat? Condescendeth she?
Wat.
No man shall be her Husband, but my selfe;
Who ere she lies withall, before or after.
That she has roundly promis'd. But she balkes,
And Boggles with me in a lesse request.
She shall deny thee nothing. What ist Wat?
Wat.
You may command her duty, if you please.
Dry.
What is it man?
Wat.
'Troth, sir, but one nights knowledge
Of her aforehand. One word of your mouth,
I know would do it, sir.
Dry.
O Devilish Rascall,
That can imagine this a Fathers Office!
Patience good Wat.
Wat.
But that I am afeard
My Father would be pleas'd with't, Il'd take home
My Sister else, and presently.
Dry.
In Maides about your work. And heare you Franck
Discharge the Butchers, and the Chandlers Bills.
They wait below. The Baker and the Brewer,
I have made even with.
Fra.
And the Vintner too.
Dry.
The Bottle-man too, and Tobacco Merchant.
Do as I bid you, go. Now Wat Observe me:
As an ingenious Critick would observe
The first Scene of a Cemedy, for feare
He lose the Plot.
Wat.
I do observe you, sir.
Dry.
I have, you know, releas'd from your thralldome.
Upon condition you should steale your Sister,
To be at my dispose. You have perform'd it:
Wat.
Honestly, sir.
Dry.
Yes, honestly, as you say.
And though it be for her own absolute good;
Yet was your Act so gratefull to me, that
I promis'd you my Daughter.
VVat.
Right sir, on.
Dry.
I shall be briefe: you know my Fortune, VVat
'Mongst other of my follies, of a Child
I got on Brookealls sister, on the by, Wat.
Wat.
And this is she, I love a bastard naturally,
Ah thy are bouncing spirits: Now I love her
More then I did Sir.
Dry.
You come fairely on.
But now, my poverty affords no portion.
Now, Wat, to raise a portion!
Wat.
J, now, now.
Dry.
Now I come to it, Wat: J tooke this house,
And in this habit here, turn'd pimping Host,
To make the most of her, and find a Husband
To take her with all faults.
Wat.
That's I, that's I Sir: this has musick in't.
Dry.
You will be secret Wat.
Wat.
No dumb Bawde like me.
Dry.
Nay in a plot of villany I dare trust thee.
Wat.
In troth you cannot thinke how much I love it;
How I am tickled with it! Good Sir, on.
Dry.
This I have design'd to put her off
(I mean her Maiden-head) at such a rate
Shall purchase Land.
Wat.
How, good Sir Humphrey, how?
Dry.
She shall be rifled for.
Wat.
How! Rifled Sir?
Dry.
Yes, rifled Wat; the most at three fair throws,
With three fair Dice, must win and wear her, Wat.
Youle take her with all faults?
Wat.
Can you suspect me?
It is the rarest invention, if the Gamesters
Be stiffe aud strait, that ever was projected!
What is't a man?
But twenty Pieces, boy.
Wat.
I vow too little, lesse their number help us.
How many Gamsters have you?
Dry.
A full hundred.
Wat.
Two thousand pound! A merry portion,
And worth as many Maiden-heads in the sport
A man shall finde in spending it? Me-thinks
I feele my self even flying with't already.
Dry.
What art thou thinking, Wat?
Wat.
That here may grow
A danger Sir, the Gamesters being so many.
Dry.
Why, there's but one must use her.
Wat.
Phew, for that
I were indifferent, if 'twere all or more
(As it is possible a wench might bear it)
If they come single, and in civill sort,
Allow her breathing-whiles—
Dry.
Here's a ripe Rascall!
Wat.
But my doubt is, that such a multitude
May fly into combustion, blow up all
The businesse and our hopes.
Dry.
Now your doubt
Reflects upon my Iudgement: didst thou note
How quietly those Gallants here to day
Parted with their gold?
Wat.
Yes, very gallantly.
Dry.
They shall agree as well for the Commodity,
As I have cast it, VVat; so well my boy,
That no distaste shall be or ta'ne, or given,
Anon youle see.
VVat.
She knows not on't you say,
Dry.
Nor shall she VVat, till at the push I charge her
To be obedient in the undertaking.
VVat.
And that's a sweet obedience: I could kneel
Enter Francis.
Dry.
Anon Ile make't all plain to you. How now Frank?
Fran.
There are two Gentlemen in the next room,
That by all meanes would speake with you: I have had
The foulest coyle with one of 'em, that perswades
Himselfe you keep a Bawdy-house, by somewhat
He gather'd Evesdropping, by your discourse here,
While t'other held me talking; who is civill,
And loves me with a modest fair affection.
Dry.
Where is his sister, Alice?
Fran.
Unseen I wrrrant you.
Dry.
Then let them enter. Whip into your disguise
Wat—
And be at call.
VVat.
Presto, Anon, anon Sir.
Dry.
Did they Eavesdrop me? I will
Eavesdrop too.—
Enter Oliver, Ambrose.
Ol.
Did not I tell thee't was a Bawdy-house?
Am.
I cannot think so yet: there is some other
Trick in it; the Maid you see is very modest.
Ol.
That is the trick on it man, she must seem so.
Her Father deals for her.
Am.
Fye! Can there be such Fathers?
Ol.
Yes, and such Mothers too: The Towne's too full of 'em.
Come, shee's a Jugling whore I warrant thee,
For all her Fee-fees, and her Laisse-moys.
In plainer English, ere I ha' done with her.
Dry.
I have enough. You are welcome Gentlemen.
Ol.
He looks like such a Blade. Are you the Master here Sir?
Dry.
I am the man that's much rejoyc'd to see
Such sparkling Spirits underneath this Roofe,
Where all you finde is yours. Sirrah Varlet.
Ol.
Each syllable he speaks bewrays him.
Dry.
Varlet I say.
Wat.
Here Sir.
Enter Wat with Wine.
Dry.
Give me the Complement. Gallants,
Wilt please you taste your welcome in a Cup,
The spirit of whose never dying Liquor,
Speaks ore the brim in this high Language to you.
Full six and thirty times hath Luna wan'd
The strength she got in six and thirty growths
From Phœbus vertuous beames, into this Juyce,
To make it Nectar for Phœbean wits.
Tis this inspires their braines with fire Divine,
By which to write high straines; and herein lurks,
The gift, One has to bounce up his own works.
Ol.
Your meaning is good Sack, and three years old.
To put you by your Beverage and your Bombast,
I will nor drinke, nor talke of other thing,
But the choice thing of things, your Daughter Sir.
Dry.
Thou shalt not wooe my Daughter, nor ne man for thy sake,
Sing.
Unlasse thou come untill her by her Daddy nak'd.
Her Mammy's gone to Heaven Sir. And I pray,
Let Fathers poor breed Daughters as they may.
Ol.
Your care, no doubt, is great what will it hold?
May not a man put in Sir for a chance?
Dry.
What do you mean Sir?
Ol.
May not we
Come in adventurers? Here are twenty peeces.
Dry.
I finde you have overheard me. Call my Daughter.
Exit Wat.
Now Ile disclose a secret to you. But Gentlemen,
As you love wit and mirth, censure me mildly.
I am a Gentleman decayd in Fortune.
Ol.
And canst thou be so base to sell thy Childe
To Lust and Impudence?
Dry.
Be not too rash.
My Child's as deare in my respect, as you
Were ever to your Father.
Am.
Devill thou lyest—
Draw.
Ol.
Nay, hold, good Ambrose; you een now were angry
With me, that did oppose your faire Construction
Of this good Gentleman and his vertuous Daughter.
Am.
My ignorance wrong'd us both.
Ol.
Good modest Ambrose,
What do you thinke of this discovery?
Dry.
You had discover'd more, if his impatience
Had not prevented me: But now I am dumb to you
In all, but this. If youle be pleas'd to sup here,
I shall afford you welcome. I have businesse.
Exit.
Ol.
What can we make of this?
Am.
I know what to do.
If City Justice, grave Authority
Protect it not, Ile surely spoyle the sport.
Ol.
Canst thou be so malicious, that, but now
Didst love this Wench so dearly, as to run her
Into the hazard of Correction?
Stay: Here she comes, and the Pimp whiskin with her.
Do thou take him in hand. Ile handle her.
Now Madam, twenty pound a man! Nay do not
Coy it too much? Your provident Father left us,
To make our selves more known to you; as your price
Is known to us already: Look upon us.
Fra.
Pre ye Sir, have you been ever in France?
Ol.
In France? No surely, nor in Doctors hands
Since I was Placket high. Why ask you Lady?
Fra.
For, if you could speak Fransh, I could the better
Find what you say. I can no understand
What tis you mean by price. What is that Price,
If it be no Welch Gentleman?
Ol.
I meane
The price of three throws for your Maydenhead,
Tis twenty peeces. If I win it (Hearke you)
What will you give me out of your grosse sum
To take it neatly off; and like an Operator,
Put you to no paine?
Fra.
Parle Françoy Monsieur, Je vou prie.
Ol.
Thou art a handsome Hyppocrite: And this
Cunning becomes thee well. Ile kisse thee for't.
Fra.
Fee fee Monsieur. O fee! tis no good fashion,
For the young Man and Mayd to no ting but kisse!
Ol.
Tis not so good indeed; nothing but kisse.
A little of tone with tother will doe well.
Fra.
Fee fee, you no understand. That Gentleman,
Speaks he no Fransh?
Ol.
Yes yes. He speaks no French.
Fra.
He Monsieur vou mocque de Moy.
Ol.
Owie par ma foy.
Fra.
Ha Monsieur vou parle françoy. Je sui' bien aisie.
Ol.
Easie! Yes yes, I thinke you would be easie
For all the boast of your Virginity.
Fra.
Excuse me Sir, I can no understand.
Ol.
Me thinks you should. Come prithee leave this fooling,
I know you can good English, if you list.
Fra.
Indeed I can. But, in my best, and all
I cannot understand you Sir, nor frame
An answer to your rudenesse. When you know me
Better, youle speak in better phrase, and then
Tis like you may finde better language from me:
Till when, pray give me leave to leave you Sir.
Ol.
Nay heark you Lady, heark you (still more mysticall!)
Nay since you can speak English, I must talke w'ye.
Fra.
So youle be civill.
Ol.
Civill I swear, and private.
They go aside.
Am.
Does shee not know on't, sayst thou?
Wat.
No Sir, no:
Not the least inckling of it: The old man
Carryes it so discreetly.
Am.
Blesse me Heaven?
Discreetly sayst thou. To betray his Childe,
To sale of her Virginity.
Wat.
Yes, discreetly.
She dreames of no such businesse; such intent:
No more then the Cud-chewing Heifer knowes
The Butcher, that must knock her down ifaith.
O, twill be bravely carried! I my selfe
Knew nothing till this houre: though I saw
Money put in his hand by divers Gallants:
Men of great place and worship; which I gather
Are to be of the Riflers.
Amb.
Prithee who?
Wat.
All must be namelesse. There are Lords among 'em.
New stakes at the old Game, as well as they;
Truckle-breech'd Justices, and bustling Lawyers,
That thrust in with their Motions; Muffled Citizens;
Old Money-Masters some, that seek the Purchace:
And Merchant Venturers that bid for the
Forreine Commodity, as faire, as any.
Amb.
Was ever such an outrage! Heark thee fellow—
They aside.
Fra.
Sir, I have heard you with that patience
(And with no better) as the troubled Pilot
Endures a Tempest, or contrary winds:
Who, finding nerethelesse his Tackling sure,
His Vessel tight, and Sea-room round about him,
Playes with the waves, and vies his confidence
Above the blasts of Fortune, till he winns
His way, through all her threatnings, to his Port.
You may apply this.
Ol.
And you may be plainer.
Is there not such a project for your Maydenhead?
Fra.
It deserves no answer.
But to be rid of you, together with
The Devill, that inflam'd you to that question;
Know, that knew I of such a plot or project;
Or, that I had a Father (as injuriously
You have suggested) could be so inhumane,
To prostitute my spotlesse Virgine honour
To Lust for Salary, I would as sure prevent it,
As there is force in poyson, Cord, or Steel,
At price of both our lives. Sir, I have sayd—
Exit.
Ol.
This Wench amazes me. Could I beleeve now
There could be truth in Woman, I could love her.
Amb.
Well, Ile make one: Meet me there two houres hence,
And fetch my twenty Peices.
I will not faile you. In the Temple Walkes—
Exit.
Amb.
Where, if I fit you not—
Ol.
Nam! What discovery?
Amb.
A villany enough to blow the house up.
Ol.
And I have found (I thinke) a vertue, that
Might save a City: But let's hence. We may
Conferr our notes together by the way.
Exeunt.
| The Damoiselle, or The New Ordinary | |