 | Psyche Debauch'd |  |
Act I.
Scene III.
Enter Payers with Beaters on thyir shoulders, and their Master with his measuring Rod.SONG.
And skin the hard Flint for good Liquor:
Let love to the Idle, and wealthy begone,
And let Preaching alone to the Vicar;
Let all be made plain, with your Strikers and Thumpers,
And when your works done, we'l about with the Bumpers.
Makes all that adore him grow lazy,
For counterfeit blessings he long makes you wait,
And with sighs and diseases he pays ye.
But he you serve now, with your Strikers and Thumpers,
When the work's done, will about with the Bumpers.
1. Pav.
The Walks are all gravell'd, and the Bower shall
be prepar'd for the Bear and Nonsey.
2. Pa.
But e'r wego in, let the Drinking begin,
And then we will Thump it agen.
Chorus.
With full double Pots,
Let us liquor our throats.
And then we'l to work with a hoh, ho, ho,
But let's drink e'r we go, let's drink e'r we go.
Mast.
Then toss up your liquor, and to labour make hast,
The time is too precious to wast.
—With full double, &c.
1. Pav.
Here Harry.—
2. Pav.
Here Will.
3. Pav.
Old True-penny still.
All.
While one is drinking, another should fill,
Pa.
Here's to thee Peter,—
4.
Thanks honest Phil.
All.
Lets lustily swill, and while one is drinking, another
should sill.
Chorus.
—With full double, &c.
Master.
Dispatch, or the Bear, or the Princess will chide,
For Love can no hindrance abide.
Pa.
There's more need of drinking, drinking, then kissing
by ods.
Chorus.
—With full double, &c.
A Dance, and all run off.
Enter Bruin and Jeffry.
Bru.
Brave Boys all, 'tis as well done as if I had chalk
out the way my self; and it had been doing 16 whole Months,
by the excellent approved, great most Famous, Ingenious,
Industrious, careful Society of More-fields; Well Geffery, what
dost think of my Missy None-so-fair!
Jeffry.
Think! Oh she's the delicat'st, but of Mans meat
that e'r lips were laid to, or legs laid over; she's an Armfull
for one of the Gods, for Jupiter himself in his Altitudes.
Bru.
In his Altitudes—what's that?
Jeffry.
Why that's drunk as David's Sow, with Nector and
Ambrosia, which is stout Mum, and Brandy; the Gods
drink upon Holy-dayes, But Sir, is not None-so-fair a little
soft childish, no wiser then she should be?
Bru.
I thought thou hadst known better; all cunning Amorous
Women, put on a modish seeming Innocent Ignorance,
that they may have pleasure without loss of reputation,
'tis a modest way of wooing, and as pleasant to the
hearers, as great lyes ingeniously made, and seriously told,
taking.
Jeffry.
Therefore, young Gallants are so much pleased
with being like Gentlemen; and the total of all the praise,
they would give a Friend, ends in.—Gad, in short he's
much like a Gentleman; the Divel take me, much like a
Gentleman?—
Bru.
Ay! that is, he Swears, Drinks, Games, and Whores,
which are no more the true accomplishments of a right
Gentleman; then Huffing, and speaking loud Nonsence, are
of the Gods, whatever our Friends, the Fopps, and the
Poets, which are much like one another, say to the contrary.—
Jeffry.
Apollo, the wishing Chair told me.—
Bru.
Pox take that liquorish Rogue, he has been beforehand,
he'l have a hand in every sack,—what did he say?
Jeffry.
When he kiss'd her, she cry'd Oh laud! why do 'e
kiss a body so, I'le tell my Father, so I will.—
Bru.
Ay, and thrust out her lips as 'twere to push him away,
when 'twas only to kiss closer?—
Jeffry.
And when he talked a little,—I do'nt know howish,
you know of that same,—she look'd so wistly, and Innocently
in his face.
Bru.
As Ignorant People do on one that speaks a Forreign
Language.—
Jeffry.
Ay, and repeated ev'ry strange word so harmlessly,
and cry'd what's that now?
Bru.
And was as curiously inquisitive, as if she were learning
a new stitch on her Sampler.—
Jeffry.
And look'd with such Religious Languishing Eyes.
Bru.
Religious Languishing Eyes?
Jeffry.
Ay, as if she were at Prayers.
Bru.
Thou incorrigible Fool—If a Woman looks so,
though in the Church; thou maist swear her thoughts are in
the very Altitudes of Love—Her heart's drunk with it, and
her eyes reel, and are dazl'd her dying Eyes, think thy self into
an Amorous extasie, and I'le tell thee how thou lookst.
Jeffry.
Gad, and so I will.
Now, now, now, there's your Religious, languishing,
drunken, dying Eyes.
Jeffry.
Oh, oh, aha.—
Bru.
There's your Anchovies, as Prince Phillip says.
Jeffry.
I'le swear 'tis very pretty, but why won't you appear
to her like a Gentleman?—
Bru.
No, no, when she sees me in this invisible shape,
like a Prince, she'l think I'm a God, and will make her a
Lady. When love thus storms a Fort, and enters by force,
he plunders freely, and imposes what conditions he will; but
when he comes sneaking, and creeping like a Boy after a
Butterfly, Ten to one but she flies off, and he falls into the
next Ditch; for where love is in motion, like Water thrown
on the ground: 'twill fall into the first hollow place it finds.
Take care that none disturb our Play;
'Twill be your own another day.
Exeunt Bruin and Jeffry several ways.
The Scene chang'd to an Arbour dress'd up with gaudy Play-games for Children.
Enter None-so-fair alone.
Non.
Oh what a bewitching sight is here, a finer place can't
be seen in a Summers day.—Oh! my tother goodness, it
looks like an Orange stuck with Cloves, or a Pudding full
of Plums, as who should say, come eat me, 'tis the very Virginy
Pepper of Nature, where the Spicy tast, of all Shows
is bound up in one fine sight; was this made for a Slaughter-house,
no, 'tis more like an Opera, then a Bear-Garden; 'tis
as fine as to Day and to Morrow, sure 'tis the Countrey-house
of some City God; I was brought hither above ground too,
as if I had flown in the Air:—Oh happy Nonsey.—But stay,
if the Gods should play the Jacks with me, and show me
Roast-meat, to thurst the Spit in my Guts.—No, no, let nothing
to be so base.—But if some fine God should come in a great
Periwig, and red and green Ribbons, and swear he loved
me like a Divel, and all that; there's your Anchovies, as
Prince Phillip says.
Bruin
within sings.
For to go a wooing, I now begin a.
Non.
I'le open, and open, and open again,
Then I prythee sweet heart come in.
O Melody most ravishing!
I could for ever hear it sing.
Oh if thou hast the Bowels of a Man a!
Tune up thy Pipes, and sing again a.
Bruin within.
Br.
Oh fair Maid! be not affraid: For I am come a wooing,
Thou art mine, and I am thine own sweet heart, and Bruin.
Non.
Once more, Oh box my ears once more!
If er I heard the like, I'm the Son of a Whore.
Br.
Hey ding a ding, muck and Trash,
Little Misse None-so-fair has a white Elbow,
Oh take all my dross! but give me the Lass,
For I want a new sheath to my Bilbow.
Non.
With a hey tralil, and ho tralil, my Elbow does itch,
Which makes me cry still:
Oh give me thy Dross! and thou shalt have the Lass,
And a Dainty fine sheath for thy Bilboe.
Non.
My heart's provok'd by some Divine Bauble,
And all my Blood is turn'd to a Caudle.
Bru.
All Play-games that e're be brought,
For love or Money, I'le give my Honey,
She shall have all the World in thought.
Non.
—O Dear! O dainty!
Br.
—O sweet and twenty!
—When shall I my Charmer know,
Br.
—Too morrow to mo.
Non.
—I'm affraid,
Br.
—Fie fair Maid.
Non.
—Hey I'm sad, and I'm glad,
Bru.
—Why all's paid I'gad.
Non.
—By this great guift, thou art some Goddy,
Bru.
—Thou shalt perceive, I am no Noddy.
Non.
—Come in then my Dear hoddy doddy.
A Dance of Bears, among which is the white Bear of Norwich, and at the end of the Dance his shape flyes off, and he appears dressed like a Cupid.
Non.
Oh what a glorious thing was here, in shape of ugly Bear.
Oh what hands! what legs are there?
But Oh the face! and oh the hair!
And Oh that he were mine own dear!
Bru.
The Bear I am,
Non.
Pray Gad be Jon.
Bru.
For all you are so cranck and prety,
The Chair has sent me here to eat ye.
Non.
Oh eat me quickly! and Oh eat me long!
For and Oh! I am not sickly, but Ah! I am not young.
Ah! I'm very tender by my troth,
Oh! I long to leap into thy mouth.
In thy dear kidnies I'le inhabit,
And make a Burrough like a Rabbit.
Oh! no other love shall thence me ferret,
Ah! I will not hurt thee, do not fear it.
But like gentle Viper some-
Times to pretty mouth I'le come,
Hounds-teeth to pick; on eyes to gaze,
And view thy comely maple face:
Then turning round in wainscot jawes,
And sliding down rough corral Throat.
There in loves sweets I'le stewing lye,
Till all dissolv'd in love, I dye
Bru.
My fair
Non.
my Love
Br.
my Dear
Non.
my Dove.
Bru.
My Honey
Non.
my Bunny
Br.
my Croney
Non.
Let me approach ye
Bru.
Let me make much o'ye—
Non.
Oh let me kiss that pretty pretty dimple!
Bru.
My love is willing, but she's wondrous simple.
Non.
Ah how I long! Oh how I am stung!
Ah I feel your headed steel!
Oh how it smarts! Ah how it tickles!
Ah the softness! and Oh the prickles!
Ah how it cleaves my heart in pieces!
Now, now, Oh now it increases.
Now my Blood begins to be at peace,
I'le warrant you, 'twas all up in my face.
Oh the sweets of the pain! Ah the pain of the pleasure!
Ah the griefs! Oh the joys without measure!
Bru.
Is this cold Numph without heart like Iron?
Her face doth tempt, but tricks do tyre one,
My stomacks full, but she's more eager,
Then Soldier coming from long leaguer.
Non.
Oh the Trance in which I've been!
Ah that 'twould 'till Death remain!
But Oh 'twill never, never come again!
Bru.
Allonz my Dear I am thy Bear,
Cheer up I say, I have it for ye,
With nought, but love I will not marry.
Non.
Ah Laud Sirs, did you ever see the like? what have
you done to me? well y'are a naughty Bear, I believe y'are
a Witch; do virtuous Princess use to be so—Poor thing I
was never so before, and I would do nothing mis-becoming
the Rank, Quality of King Andrews-daughter—
Bru.
Oh well dissembled Ignorance!
Non.
Your hand bewitch'd me, but your eyes; Oh those
Inchanting eyes! I never saw such eyes, nor felt such eyes;
nor heard such eyes, nor understood such eyes, Oh those
delicate! dear, long round, twinckling, pincking, glazing,
leering, sneering Sheeps eyes of thine.
I know not wher'I feel or no.
Why do'e gape so amorous, zee,
Would you have any thing of me.
Bru.
Oh yes, I am soust too in loves pickle,
Salt tears down cheeks like Mil-stones trickle;
My heart in Stomach their would rest,
As brooding Rook does on soft nest;
And while for food it there sits calling,
With bit of pity, thou must stop his yawling:
Oh give me thy pretty thing.
And when that pretty thing thou givest to me,
I'le burn its Tail, that it may fly from me;
Non.
Oh take it then! Oh catch it quickly,
Staying with me 'tis grown so sickly,
It melts too fast, unless your help withstands,
'Twill dye away, and lye upon my hands;
Oh it flutters, Ah it pants, yet, yet I hav't,
Oh Sir dispatch, dispatch, if you would sav't,
Sir, Sir, Sir, now, now, Oh now it tingles at my fingers ends,
'Tis gone, 'tis gone, run, fetch it back again:
Or I shall dye unless thou giv'st me thine.
Exeunt running.
Scene chang'd.
Enter the Princes, Nicklas and Phillip.
Pil.
Prince Nick, cham zick ove this zokring work;
Che wonder where the Vengeance scab do lurk,
Why wuss mon she's but one o' my Naunts:
There vore lets squot, and leave theez murrin Jaunts;
Nick.
All ground's to hot for me to tarry on,
Till I have got my Princely Carrion;
Though Fortune is froppish still we hope well,
Phil. be not moapish, but ask all Pe-o-ple.
Phil.
May be she's zunning on zome odrous mixion,
Choud teaz her ifz cou'd vind the Vixon;
Nick.
Had she none but we to put her tricks on.
A vowdry tit come Nick lets zlip hence,
When luch zares pride wull pay her odd vip'ence;
Yet white Bears a Beast, if he hurt imp Royal,
Though Bear have Feast, let wishing Chair pay all:
Let's hye us to'n straight, and bumbast the bony Witch,
Che doubt thick Chair had vurst lick ove her hony Critch,
Nick.
Mums the word least he by flight prevent us,
Let's gallop straight on pair of nimble Tentoes.
Exeunt.
The Scene chang'd to the Arbour.
Enter None-so-fair.
Non.
Laud what have I done, I reek like a new shot gun,
Heigh hoe, a kind of shameless shame I feel;
But I feel something else that joyes me still,
And does that other feeling quite out-feel:
I can't repent now for my blood,
Sure things so sweet must need be good,
Besides to love is to obey a God,
The things so Sacred, and so kind to boot:
That I will roar it out—again I'le do't.
Here comes the little loving Rogue,
Now do I blush like a blew Dog;
What shall I do. I am rapt, Oh! I shall have my fit again, for
something catches me fast by the inclination.—
Sing this.
The more I look, the more I like, beauty breeds my hearts delight.
Bru.
Poor virtuous loving Princess,
At first she seem'd to loath loves pleasant bub,
And now she's all for empting of the Tub.
Non.
Though I'm so fond of one ne'r seen before,
I hope you do not think I am a Whore;
Yet least that I should prove with Child,
And you should run away therefore,
I pray Sir, be so meek and mild,
To tell me like a trusty Trojan,
Both what's your Name, and where's your Lodging.
I am a great Prince, my Estate lyes in the new Utopia.
I am chief commander of all the Padders, Jugglers, Priggers,
Ditchers, Bulkers, and Pickpockets, to me all those merry
Greeks pay Tribute, which shall come into thy Fob, all the
beautious Doxies, Dells and Drabs, shall obey the back, and
admire thy magnificence.
Thou shalt be both my pretty Romp in Luxury and Pomp,
thy eyes shall watch; while thy ears are ravished, and all thy
other Senses shall dance Bobbing-Joan for joy, I'le keep thee
in thy Hair, and thy Slippers; thou shalt eat like a Cameleon,
and drink like a Flitter-mouse; thy House shall be made of
one intire Sugar-Plum, out of which thou shalt every day
eat thy passage like a lovely Viper out of his Dams Belly,
thy Closet shall be furnished with Sun-beams, thy Cloaths
shall be all Marmalade powdered with Caraways for spangles,
thy Bed shall be made of a great Blue-Fig, and thy Curtains
of Dyet-bread Paper, where thou shalt lye like the Lady in
the Lobster 'till I come to dress thee with the Vinegar of love,
and the Nutmeg of Luxury, thy Coach shall be of some fine
new Trangam—which we'l study for—
Non.
Oh I am rapt again!
Bru.
Thou shalt have a Dog and a Parrot, and when th'are
sick, thou shalt have a Physitian and a Surgean for them.
Non.
Oh! I am rap't again—but what if they should dye?
Bru.
Then thou shalt mourn o're thy dear Cur, like a
grave Person of quality; put thy woman in black, and convey
it with a Train of Hakneys to the Sepulchre of his stinking
Ancestor in Pomp and Luxury.—But my dear Bunting I
tell thee one thing.
Like fairy pence thy Trump'ry will be gone:
If Newgate keeper once should smoak us,
Thy Bear must vanish with a hocus.
Non.
But Love, Honey, won't you let my Sisters visit me?
truly they are not adopted Sisters, but of my true Royal
Flesh and Blood; and I would fain show my Pride and Luxury.
For Bravery without being seen, is like John come
kiss me without dancing, or a Bell without a Clapper, for it
makes no noise.—
My Jeffery shall for them hye,
And fetch them hither by and by.
Enter Jeffery.
G. Pri.
Hoe, Jefferey, Hoe, make hast, and go
Hunt for great Sisters high and low.
Thou'lt find the stately Trape's tyr'd with Travel,
Out of surbated trotters picking gravel,
Or at some Farmers door a resting haunches,
And finging smutty Ballads for Bread and Cheese.
Jeff.
The Quean looks shy on't, will she bob? will she come?
Bru.
The Nymph is plyant, done is job, word is mum.
Jeff.
Blouzes I fly to call as fast as hoofs can fall,
I'le bring them hither with their Fardels,
Or leave them there, it will go hard else.
Exit Jeffery.
Bru.
I hope your Sisters are no setters,
And come to tempt you with Love-letters:
If you let any other—at my Charges,
My fresh tap'd love will turn as sowr as Verjuice.
But let that pass—
Now prick up ears, let eyes stare hard,
Let all thy Senses stand on Guard.
That I may catch them unprepar'd.
Till Jeffry do thy lineage bring,
We'l go, and hunt the pretty thing.
Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Wishing-Chair and Jeffry.Wish.
And how, and how, do things and things fit? does
she melt like Snow in his arms? and make the Rogue think,
there's Fire in his bosom—does the little Vermine twine about
him like a tame Snake? and make her tongue seem
forked with swift motion.
Jeffry.
Why, all these questions Friend, and ask'd with
such envious curiosity, because you made the first discovery,
you thought, the Natives would truck with no other.—Y'are
out; you only touch'd upon the Coast, he has sail'd up the
River; discovered the In-land,—planted a Colony; and
settl'd the Trade of Furs.—
Wish.
Oh Rogue! 'tis a dainty spot of Ground, Woods,
Rivers, Mountains, over which is plac'd a Sky always serene
and clear.
Jeffry.
—Ay and He'l not lose a minuit of it.
Wish.
I shall ne'r forget, the pretty skittish thing did so
snach away my kisses, and throw them back again with such
a furious kind Scorn.—Pray let me go now, won't you? and
then imbrac'd me so fiercely, as if she had wish'd, the Divel
take me if I did.—Ah! she pressed, like fresh Curds newly
put into the Cheese-frame.—Oh Jeffry! Jeffry!
Jeffry.
Oh Friend! Friend! you have had your time,
and must now live upon your Alforges; like a great Monkey
chew the Cud, for you must be a clean Beast in spight of
your teeth, I over-heard the Puissant Princess make dangerous
resolves against your dear life. Prince Phillip will be at
your Anchovies, i'faith, Bruin thinks fit that you repair to
our Pallace the new Musick-house, you know where, for
your Worships safely,—and to incourage you, heark ye—
I am sent for two fresh Frollicks, the two elder Sisters.
Wish.
Art thou so?—enough—I am for the Straights.
Jeffry.
Hold, hold, here's a Packing-penny, she comes to
wish for a Famine, that Corn may sell dear.
Wish.
Or a soul disease on those that Robb'd her Henroost,
Pox upon her brown Bread Phisuomie,—lets go.
Jeffry.
Not a foot Sir till this old Jade's curry'd; y' are
bound by Oath to refuse none.—
Wish.
Pri'thee Jeffry be favourable, dispence.
Jeffry.
On, on, Sir will you perform, or shall I complain;
remember.
With delicate thing call'd a new wishing Chair.
Let the good Woman be satisfied; now will I go find her
Husband, and send him hither immediatly, dear mischief how
I love thee.
Red.
Ah blessing on his good heart, he speaks most Serene
and clear, he's a very notable Man I'le warrant you;—and
whoever says Gammar Redstreak hath no Judgement. Hy hee
and for all your whim whams, they prate and prate, but give
me something, has some savour; and say, and hold, Gadslidikins,
I'le not be trampl'd on by the Proudest.—I have
known the time when my penny was as White, and round,
as the best fiddle faddle of them all; Oh the tumbling, and
rumbling there was then, I'le warrant you my Linnen was so
touzl'd, and mouzl'd, t'wou'd do ones heart good to see't.
But now like and old crack'd Groat, whose stamp's worn out;
none will take me, they say I am not current.—But I'le fit
'em, for I'le wish my self a Queen, and this House full of
Money in my Pocket.
Wish.
And the Devil in thy Chattering Chops.
Red.
Ay, your worships: and a new Husband every time
I change my Apron.—
Wish.
And a new Disease ev'ry time thou tun'st thy Clack.
Jeffry.
See how close they are, an honest Man, and an
Headborough Cost: Oh Trumpet, Oh Hilding, I have been
her true and natural Husband any time this twenty Year, up
zitting and down-lying.
Red.
Show your favour Sir, and when I am a Queen you
shall be my head Hind.
Wish.
Some kind mischief deliver me, from this she Dragon.
Red.
I shall make rare a Queen, and bring good houswifry
into fashion; for I'le make all the Masques, and Chorus's, and
Simphonies my self, With a Fiddle Faddle, hey down diddle,
faith let's be merry.
Cost.
How Pestilent Jocund the lown is; well, my heart
leaps against my teeth, like a Rat against the Wyers of a
Trap.—I'le be with thee in the twinckling of a Cabbage,
I'le scoure thy Crab-lanthorn with a witness, look to't, I'le
swing thy Croudledum, I will.—
Jeffry.
Dispatch then, for the Show will be past else; I would
fain get the Rogue some soure sawe to his sweet bit.
Cost.
Ah! how she sneers like a Mare that has spy'd her stray
Coult.—do, do, Ring all in, chill Ring noon about thy Pate
presently.
Jeffry.
So the dull Larrum's wound up, I would fain stay
to hear it clatter; but I must seek Sweettlips and Wondhamore.
Wish.
Well I am mollifi'd, thou shalt see the Show; the
Woman is decent, cleanly, and sound I'le Warrant; hang't,
we must not always expect Beautious Women; stay here a
little, thou pritty Rogue; I begin to have a mind to her;—
ha, old True penny.
Red.
Now for me, I'le be a Queen or a Lady at least; and
King Andrew's Three Daughters shall be my Maids, and I'le
for his virtuous Patrons.—Then I'le have the head-ach, and
be very sick, that I may receive Visits in my Bed, Oh! there's
no way like it to draw on Sutors; they know a poor weak
Woman that lyes there on purpose, has no power to deny.—
One that I know, drest her self in six several dresses to catch
her Sweet-heart, but nothing pleas'd her; I'le warrant you
'till she fucust her face, blanch'd her hands, put on a rich suit
of Night Linnen, and went to Bed; where she lay like a
Queen Apple upon a Tod of Wool, and the Patches look'd
for all the World like Birds pecks, which show the Fruit is
Rotten-ripe; and what do'e think the Whore-Son snuffed
up his Nose, and cry'd he did not love brown crust in Milk;
a proud Jack, I'le make a Law, that every man shall be hang'd
that refuseth a Woman; ay and 'tis high time, for we have
been even so kind to 'm, that they use us as they do Rackets
at Tennis, when they have exercised their Bodies; and
thump'd their Balls,—dress, and away; but my Lady
Redstreak, won't be serv'd so ifaith.—After Dinner the
Steward shall set things right with me in my Closet, and the
Gentleman of the Horse, or some spruce fellow shall Fiddle
me a sleep. Oh Redstreak, didst thou ever think to come to
this. But if this should be a lye, now I'm bravely served.—
The wishing Chair is discover'd.
Oh there's the Chair, I cannot hold 'till the Gentleman
comes.—Oh a Queen, a Queen and 80 Husbands, and this
House full of Money, O lo, O lo, whither am I going?
The Chair sinks with her,—and Costard enters ridiculously Arm'd.
Cost.
Whaur, whaur, whaur.—Ha gwon, shark'd away,
Oh mischief, Oh Costard, Oh Cuckold—budding, budding.
I feel 'em budding.—Oh Beast, I'le kill thee with my horns;
a Cuckold in my old days, I'le draw thy Colts Tooth with a
vengeance.
Red.
A thousand thanks to your worship, I have not seen
so fine a Show this seven years.—
Wish.
A tough carrion, she draws like a Whirl-pool, and
would kill a Man as easily as a Cat sucks the breath of a Child:
Go thy ways old Mumpsimus, the mark's in thy mouth still.
Enter Castard.
Cost.
Now, Courage, for the Blood of the Costards, Ile
mow them off both in the middle, so swiftly that they shall
stand still, and never think th'are dead.
Wish.
No, no more at this time, I thank your Queen-ship.
Cost.
Ah umh! she clings like a rotten Egg to a Pillory;
yes pray do, and I'le watch the grins like the head of a
dead Horse, Scoundrel, snarle-chops, Beezom-Beard, come
out, come out, if thou darest.—O Laud!
Red.
I'm undone, as a man would undo an Oyster, my
natural good man is here, and there's Murder in his looks.
Wish.
What art thou? what dost stare at? wilt fight, ha?
Cost.
Pranter aye 'Pranter, no my tongue's my own, and
God save the King's no Treason, my Blood's up, and I'le
wish: what wilt thou do?—who wouldst fight with?
Cost.
Zate there cham as cunning's the Devil, and won't
tell Wish: Dam ye for a beetle-headed Dog.
Costard runs out.
Cost.
Oh Sir! Sir! Sir!
Red.
Oh good Sir! Wishing-Chair sit down, for I know
he'l come again, and if I don't put this out of his head, he
won't leave a whole bone in my skin.—
Red.
And I wish, and I wish, that my dear Husband
Costard.
Cost.
How! wishing in the Chair for me? odz pretious, if
this been't a good Woman, the Devil's a Hog.—
Red.
I wish, that my good Husband Costard were married
to King Andrews eldest Daughter, though I were dead and
rotten, I should rejoyce for't a thousand year hence, if I
could remember't.
Cost.
Poor Redstreak, my own true Spouse,—'twere
better I were hang'd, then thee wert dead: what a villanous
Beast was I to think ill of her? no, thee art my Princess, and
I had rather lose the best Horse in my Team, then lose my
Wife.—
Red.
Ay that thou hadst all I dare swear.
Cost.
No zately, these two of them cost me zeaven and
twenty Shillings a piece, but prythee Redstreak let me wish
for thee now, and requite thee in thy own Coyn.—a woundy
fine Chair.—a Wishing-Chair do'e call it, Laud to see the
When he tryes to sit, the Chair moves, and he falls down.
Art of man by your leave
Odzvish, and eeles, what
has it no Bottom?—yes it has, why what a muxon did I
vall through the Chair, or the Chair through me, let me zee;
The Chair strikes him a blow on the ear.
zoo cham in now, and I wish, and I wish,
What's that vor Redstreak? ha is't no
more then a word and a blow,—what a Vengeance!
Red.
Laud Husband I did n't touch you.—
Cost.
Wilt a lye to come o'this side,—so now I wish, and
I wish.—
The Chair strikes him on tother side.
What a pox
ayles the Woman-bones? O'me, wouldst be leather'd ha?
Red.
Truly Husband I never touch'd you.
Cost.
Never touch'd me, why thou Whore-Son Scab?
come and stand before, and look me in the face.—So now
I wish, and I wish.
The Chair picks his Pocket.
Bones O
me, Wife! there's a live thing in my Pocket,—why Woman
Red.
That can't be man, vor there's no kirsen Soul here
but thee and I;—but if it be gwon, sit thee down, and wish
for me.
Cost.
Stand thee behind the Chair then, and zee that nothing
molest me.—And I wish, and I wish,—Oh lo, and I wish
that—Oh! I will have my wish in spight of the Devil, and
I wish—Oh Bones! O me! Oh gogs nouns thou drab!
she has run a rifle into my Posterity, but chill pay thee vor't
with a witness.
She pushes him into the Chair, who holds him fast, while both beat him.
Red.
Out thou Carl, thou Beast to use a Woman so, the
Wrong-way, Dunder-nose, Dog-bolt, Limber-twist, I'le
teach thee to spoile a Woman.
Cost.
Oh Murther! Fellony, Salt and Batter, the Devil
and the Witch will murther me.
Enter Princess, Nicklas and Phillip.
Phil.
Now Nick for the honour of Knight-hood let's
stand to our Pan-puddings, here's the white Bear, and the
Wishing-Chair: have at'em by guess.
Nick.
Oh Nonsy Lady mine! inspire my Arm with Knightly
prowess to fight this dreadful Battel. This trenchant Blade
I draw, and now have at all.
Red.
O mercy! mercy! passion o'me, their naked Tucks
upon a Woman.
The Chair and Costard sink the Princess, cut off Redstreaks head, clap it on a Sword, and go off singing.
Good Christians Rejoyce,
With glad heart, and with Voice:
The white Bear is dead,
And here is his head.
| Psyche Debauch'd | |