 | The Damoiselle, or The New Ordinary |  |
ACT. V.
Scene I.
Frances, Magdalen, Jane, Alice.Wine on a Table.
Fra.
Tres bien venue Madames.
You are very welcome.
Mag.
Good lack! And is it you, Mrs. Alice? I'st
possible? Are you come to learn Carriage
too? I will make bold with tother Glasse of
Wine. At a word, J like your French Carriage
the better, that it allowes elder Women to
drink VVine.
Ali.
They have no other drink, except water. And
Maids are allowed but that.
Ja.
And young wives (they say) wine with their
water.
Mag.
Mingle your Glasse, then, Daughter. This for
me. Your father has so sought you Mrs. Alice.
Ja.
My Father has mist us too, by this time.
Mag.
But neither of 'em can dream French enough,
to direct 'em hither, J warrant you. And does
she learn the Carriages very well, Madam-silly?
Fra.
Madamoyselle, si vous plaist.
Mag.
What do yee cal't? I shall never hit it. How
do you finde your Schollar?
Fra.
O, she is very good. She learn very well.
Mag.
But how much carriage hath she learnt? Heark
a man? Has not a good Husband stolne you
hither?
J can think waggishly I tell you: And an old Ape has
an old eye. Go to.
Ali.
No such matter, Mrs. Bumpsey.
Fra:
VVhat is that you say?
Mag.
I ask you how much carriage she has learnt?
Fra.
She come but dis day; And she carry both
the hands already.
Mag.
How say by that. I'st possible? Can she carry
both her hands in one day?
Fra.
Yes, and before to morrow, she shall carry the
foot as well.
Mag.
It seems, then, you teach handling before
footing in your French way.
Fra.
You may learn dat of de leetle Shild. De leetle
Shild you see will handle de ting, before
it can set one foot to de ground. Come, let me
see you make a Reverance.
Mag.
Reverance! VVhat's that?
Fra.
Tis dat you call a Curtsie. Let me see you
make Curtsie.
Mag.
Look you heare then.
Fra.
O fee, fee—dat is de gross english Douck, for
de swagbuttock'd-wife of de Pesant.
Mag.
How like you this then? There's a Reverence
I warrant you.
Fra.
Fee, dat is worse. See how you carry de hands
like de Comedien dat act de shangling.
Mag.
Shall I ever hit on't troe? I must take tother
Glass.
Ali.
Take heed she does not take too much.
Ja.
I hope she will not. But there's no crossing her.
Fra.
Let me see your hands.
There they bee. They have been a little too familiar
with Sea-coale fires, and much other
course houswifry, which J shall utterly abhor,
and wash off, when J have learnt to carry
them Courtly.
Fra.
Yes, yes, and all your other parts and members.
Mag.
I may winne my Husband to love mee Courtly
then.
Fra.
To love, and lye with you Courtly.
Mag.
That's but seldome, I doubt.
Fra.
You shall know all de waies to winne his Love,
Or any mans, to multiply your honour.—
Mag.
J will so multiply then.
Fra.
Not onely in your looks, your smiles and sweet Caresses.
(Besides the help of Painting) that adorn
The face: But with the motion of each Lineament,
Of the whole frame of your wel order'd body.
An Eye, a Lip, a finger shall not move;
A Toe trip unregarded. But your Geat
And your whole gracefull Presence shall attract,
(Beyond affection) admiration:
As Ile artifice you.
Mag.
Ile be a Nimph. Diana and her Dearlings, deare, deare, deare, &c.
[sing.]
But may I paint, say you?
Fra.
O most allowably; nay, commendably.
Mag.
Tother Glass for that.
Fra.
Then for the Art of dressing, setting forth
Head, Face, Neck, Breast,; with which I will inspire you.
To cover, or discover any part—
Unto de best advantage.
That is to say,
To hide shame, or shew all: that's her meaning.
Fra.
You shall have no defect perceiv'd, no grace
conceal'd.
Mag.
I am for the naked Neck and Shoulders, then.
For (I tell you Mistress) I have a white Skin,
And a round streight Neck: smooth and plump Shoulders,
Free from French Flea-bits, and never a wrinckle
Neare 'em, though I say't.
Fra.
'Thas been suggested by invective men,
Women, to justifie themselves that way,
Began that Fashion. As one tother side,
The fashion of mens Brow-locks was perhaps
Devis'd out of necessity, to hide
All il-grac'd forehead; Or besprinckled with
The outward Symptomes of some inward griefe.
As, formerly the Saffron-steeped Linnen,
By some great man found usefull against Vermine,
Was ta'ne up for a fashionable wearing.
Some Lord that was no Niggard of his Beauty,
Might bring up narrow brims to publish it.
Another, to obscure his, or perhaps
To hide defects thereof, might bring up broad ones.
As questionless, the streight, neat timber'd Leg,
First wore the Troncks, and long Silk-hose: As likely
The Baker-knees, or some strange shamble shanks,
Begat the Ancle-breeches.
Mag.
Sure the men
Took that conceit from us. What woman shewes
A Leg, that's not a good one?—
[She shewes a swadled leg.]
Fra.
These among men, are followed for the fashions,
That were invented for the better grace.
(As our Attires) to set off Limb, or face.
Good lack! What knowledge comes from
forraigne parts?
Enter Dryground, VVat.
Dry.
I prethee Wat, have patience for an houre.
Wat.
Not for a minute, Sir, Ile not be kick'd,
And call'd base Pandar for your baseness.
Dry.
Nay, look you Wat.
Wat.
And had almost been pump'd,
And made a sport for Water-men i'th' Thames.
Dry.
But Heare me, Wat.
Wat.
Ile heare my Father sooner. (Give me hence
My Sister) were he a ravenous Beast, a Wolfe,
J would obey him rather then trudge a foot
Further in your base way. Heart J am hip-shot.
Dry.
Now, would his Bodies paines convert his Soule,
Twere a good work.
Wat.
J am in desperate feare
O'th' Mourning of the Chine too with the kicks,
And hunches they o're-laid me with. O base!
Without resistance. Give me hence my Sister.
Dry.
But how was it my fault?
Wat.
Was't not your project?
Ja.
What may this mean?
Ali.
No harm J warrant you.
Wat.
Nay, it shall out. Your base inhumane Project,
To sell your Daughters Maiden-head. (J care not
Who heares me, J.) And cunningly to make me
Your Hackney-jade to fetch your Chapmen in.
Mag.
Where are we now?
Ja.
What did my Husband mean to wish us hither?
Wat.
Baseness! I cannot call it bad enough.
You were as forward in it as my selfe,
And wooed me you might have her without all faults.
Wat.
Mine eyes are opened now.
Dry.
But J beleive,
They were almost beaten out first.
Wat.
And J vow
Ere J will marry so, Ile take a Beggar,
And joyn in trade with her, though I get nothing
But—My name is Vermine already, J
Thank a good Father for't.
Dry.
A Beggar-wenches breed would propagate
Your name most numerously.
Wat.
Much better then your Sale-ware, and more lasting.
J think J saw her to day must be the woman,
Good Madame Polcat, the trim Schoole-mistriss.
Ile make bold with your Schollar. What! you have more.
Ile carry her and her Virginity
Unto some fitter place of Execution.
Ali.
You brought me hither, Sir, and here Ile stay.
Wat.
What! in a Bawdy-house?
Mag.
O deare! and is it so? VVhat are we then?
Is this your boun fashion? Is this the carriage of the
Body, that you would teach us? What, to bee
VVhores? VVe could learn that at home, and
there were need, without your teaching,
Ja.
Mother; what do you mean?
Ali.
Mrs Bumpsey; pray feare no harm.
Mag.
O good lack! what will become of us? where
are we now, Jane?
Betray'd! betray'd! Our honours are betray'd. O my
poor Bump. how will thou take this at my hands,
though J carry them never so Courtly?
Dry.
'Sfoot, she's in her Mawdlin fit: All her wine
Mag.
Oh, oh, oh,—
[She falls]
Dry.
Pray have her in. Look carefully to her,
Mag.
Oh, oh, oh,—
Dry.
Take the Bottle with yee.
Mag.
I, I, I.
Dry.
In all to the next Room.—
Exeunt Fra. Jane leading out Magdalen.
Wat.
Sir, she shall with me. Ile leave
her where J found her.
Dry.
Sir, no such matter.
Wat.
'Sfoot, Gentlewoman, must I kick you out o' doores?
Dry.
No, nor depart your selfe, but by Authority.
J am provided for you. Friends come in.
Enter two Sergeants.
And do your Office.
Ser.
We arrest you, Sir; Nay, we shall rule you.
Wat.
Ha, ha, ha. VVhy, this is well, and very hospitably done.
VVould any man but an old Bawde ha' done this?
Dry.
Sir, J mistrusted your Apostacy.
Since you revolt, J must recall my money;
Or lay you where J found you, as you threatned your Sister here.
Wat.
Baser, and baser still. Are you a Knight?
A Knight, a Post-Knight. A Postillion,
That rides a fore-horse, o're the Eares in durt,
Three fingers thick, is not so base. You Varlets,
Do you arrest folkes in a bawdy-house?
Ser.
VVe do not finde it so; Or, if it be,
The place may be as honest as our Office.
VVill you walk, Sir?
Wat.
Stay; Let me consider,
Have done) would take a fine submission.
I could affoard to kneele and whine, me-thinks,
Rather then back to my old Ward again.
Twill nere be handsome though.
Enter Valentine.
Val.
The business Gentlemen.
Wat.
My lucky friend.
Sir, you reliev'd me lately. Could you now
But add another Favour, it might teach
One, that nere learnt to pray, to pray for you.
Do you not know me, Sir? Twas I you sav'd
Out of the Temple Sudds.
Val.
Hast thou been shav'd since?
Wat.
No, Sir, I was disguis'd.
Val.
Disguis'd!
Wat.
Disguis'd in villany, which I recant.
Val.
Who knowes but he may prove an honest man?
Pray, Sir, a word.
Ser.
We do not use to wait dry-fisted; nor dry throated.
Wat.
I would you were as wet all over, as I was like
to have been: Or, as you are Catchpoles, I
would you had been but in those hands I escap'd
from.
Dry.
You have prevail'd, Sir.
Val.
Sergeants you shall not out of the House.
Here's for halfe an houres attendance. Go into
that Room with your Prisoner. You shall have
Wine, and Smoak too.
I can relieve thee: feare not.
Sir, get my Father but to say as much,
And you shall be Co-heire with me. I vow you shall have halfe.
[Exeunt Wat, Sergeants]
Val.
VVee'll talk anon. The Youth appeares converted.
Dry.
There was no other meanes to work it by,
But that I us'd; to urg'd him past his Nature.
He was so free in's Villany, that I
Giving the Spurs, ran him beyond his speed;
Quite off his Legs, and glad to be led home.
Val.
His Father comes on fairely: I have follow'd
All your Instructions concerning him,
And my fantastick Father-'Law. Both whom
Are hard at hand, with the wise western Knight.
He too's content to go to the best Ordinary,
VVhile tis best cheap he saies. VVhere are the women?
Dry.
Your Mother-'Law, after she had got
As much French Carriage, as might serve to furnish
A petty Court; is fallen into a fit,
To over-throw it all againe.
Val.
The better.
But is the house cleare, Sir, of all your Riflers?
Dry.
As I could wish; And well satisfied.
For, when they understood the honest end,
My Project aim'd at; which, by an Oration
VVell charg'd with virtuous Sentences, I forc'd
Into the nobler Breasts: they all recanted
The barbarous purpose; and as freely left
Their money for that Charitable use,
To which I pre-intended it. The rest
Purs'd theirs again. But yet I have collected
In this odd uncouth way, five hundred Pounds,
That was laid down at stake for a Virginity,
To make an honest stock for Franck.
Ual.
Tis good.
You may be pleas'd, Sir, to peruse this Baper.—
Exit.
Dry.
How now! what's here? How might he come by this?
It is the scorn I sent my injur'd Love;
My abus'd Elynor: The hand, that threw
Her from me. O, that at the price of it
I could receive her.
Enter Oliver. Ambrose.
Ol.
Sir, by your leave,
VVe come to sup w'yee. Does your Rifling hold?
Amb.
VVhat, you are off o' the hooks, me-thinks.
Ol.
If there be no such thing, tell us the Riddle?
Dry.
You shall know all, and briefely. Franck, come in.
Enter Franck.
Now Gentlemen—
Ol.
Let us salute her first.—
Salute, then whisper.
Dry.
She does not tast of sin. Faire Chastity
Sits crown'd upon her Brow, with an aspect,
May beat down. Lust to Hell, from whence it rose.
Fra.
You professe Nobly, sir.
Ol.
I vow, and do not lye to you: If I finde
Your Father so inhumane, you against it:
VVee'll be your Rescue, if forty able sword-men
VVhich we have, at the signall of a finger,
Planted in readiness, can fetch you off:
Do you approve?
Fran.
Yes, and admire your goodness.
Ol.
Now we are for you, sir:
Dry.
Then heare the story; which your late Impatience
Amb.
You speak not now
In that high Phrase, or tone, as you
did then.
Val.
Stand here, unseene;
and heare attentively.
Dry.
I am a Gentleman, that by
foule misdeed
To an unfortunate Family, by rejecting,
After affiance, and her love abus'd,
A Gentlewoman—
Ol.
You got with child, and then deny'd her Marriage.
Dry.
Twas so.
Ely.
Ay me!
Val.
No passion, gentle Soule.
Phil.
If this should prove my Father now!—
Ol.
Well Sir, your Gentlewoman!
Dry.
Shee, on the discontent, (poore haplesse Soule)
Now foureteen Winters since though sadly burden'd,
Fled, and no more is heard of: at the first
My wildnesse took no sense of this deare Losse;
But drew me through the wayes of carelesse pleasure,
By riotous expence, that mine estate
And Credit ran at waste, and was nigh spent,
Untill my trespasse cry'd against my Conscience
To render satisfaction: but in vaine
We offer to the dead. My Genius therefore
Prompts me to gratefull deeds unto her Blood.
Amb.
What can this come to?
Dry.
Shee had a Brother, that lost his estate
By Law—
Br.
Means he not mee?
Dry.
To a Corrupt Oppressor—
Ver.
Ha! How's that?
Dry.
Was stript out of the very Coat he wore,
Ol.
What's all this to your Daughter?
Dry.
Even all that may be; (see) His Sonne's my Daughter.
Discover Franc.
Now do you find my project Gentlemen?
It has at Charge of three dayes House-keeping
Put halfe a thousand pounds in's purse; Besides
A faire pull for his Fathers Land againe:
For he has, by a lawfull Church-man married
The Daughter of his Fathers Adversary.
Ol.
Why, here are wonders!
Amb.
Bravely, nobly done
Dry.
Come Mrs. Alice; and justifie your Act.
Enter Alice
Ver.
My Daughter, ha!
Amp.
My sweetheart, hoe!
Fra.
Your haes and hoes can not draw her from me,
shee is my Wife.
Ver.
By what witch-craft?
Dry.
By stronger Charmes, then your Art can dissolve.
You know me now, Sir—And my Project, do
you not?
Discovers himselfe.
Ol., Amb.
Sir Humfrey Dryground.
Ver.
I am struck dum with wonder.
Elin.
O tis he, tis hee.
Val.
Alasse she swounes, Sir cheare you up this Lady,
While I appease the rest. A word with you Sir.
Amp.
I will not be appeas'd.
Dry.
My love! my Elynor!
Bump.
So, cheare her up Sir Humfry. To her againe
Sir Humfry; your Sonne and mine in Law has told me all
your story, and reconcil'd your Brother Brookall to you
before your interview. I know all, the full point and the
whole substance; the flat and plaine of the businesse;
and now I love these things againe. How now Sir Amphilus?
Amp.
No: But and I were at the Duckingpond, I
know what I know. But when I drown my selfe, I'll give
you leave to hang me.
Ali.
Your pardon, and your blessing; I beseech you.
Ver.
Hence.
Exit Valentine.
Broo.
Was this thy Journey into France my Boy?
High Providence hath made it good. But tell mee,
Was Love your chiefe Instructor to this Marriage?
Fran.
Indeed it was equall in her and mee.
Ali.
Pray Sir our blessing.
Ver.
Away.
Broo.
Turne this way for a blessing then my Daughter,
Bump.
Shall I tell you Neighbour? Law has no reliefe
for you; And Conscience and you have a longe
time been strangers. Could you be friends and embrace
Conscience now, all would be well. And there's the
substance. Is it plaine?
Ver.
Conscience! do you know where she is?
Enter Val. Wat. Magdalen, Jane.
Val,
Heeres one has brought her in his true Conversion.
Wat.
Sir, If you can forgive, and can obey you.—
I now can better kneele, then speak
He weeps
Val.
Do you note those teares, Sir? Had you lost your Daughter,
My Father had in this made you amends,
In finding you a Son. His Art converted him.
Ver.
Sure, all's but Apparition, or a dream.
Bump.
Ha! Think you so? Tis your own flesh and
blood: And by your leave and liking may prove as honest
a Man, as his Father. Is not this plaine now? Forgive
and blesse em all over, and so Kisse 'em too. They
are your Children.
O my deare Bump! Art thou there? Thou
mayst kisse, and forgive me all over too, for
any harm, or dishonesty; though the place be
as they say-at a word, Bump. Thou mayst beleive
me, I came but to learn Carriage of the
Body, nor to carry no bodies body, but my
owne body, Bump. No truely, truely Bump.
o—o—that ever I did that.
Bump.
Peace, peace: All's well. At least I know your
Disease.
Mag.
Think me not drunk, good Bump, a little
fashion-sick, or so.
Amp.
Fashion-sick! a fine civill word. To be drunk,
is fashion-sick.
Ver.
I am awak'd out of the Lethargy
Of Avarice: Blest may our Friendship be.
Dry.
I will not sleep, before the holy Priest
Has done the Office. Blessing on my Girle.
Val, Thou hast made me young againe: the best
Occurrents in this Project have been thine.
Thy Accidents exceeded my designe.
Val.
They do not yet cease here: For see, the strife
Betwixt these long continued Adversaries
Perfectly reconcil'd; and both have given
The young and hopefull married paire their Blessings.
Amp.
To which I have given my Consent most freely.
For it was Nolens volens as they say.
Val.
They are beholden to you. Mr. Vermine
Restores unto the Son the Fathers Land,
For Dowry with his Daughter: And is taken
So with the good you wrought upon his Son,
The Convertite here; that if he stand firme
Till the determination of your Mortgage,
Hee I cancell it, and send it Gratis to you.
Wat.
That's sure enough. But Sir, the other businesse.
What's that?
Val.
The most to be admir'd of all;
He loves my Sister here; and has done long:
But, now, that he perceaves her worth (being yours)
And, since you promis'd him your Daughter too,
He makes it his faire suit.
Dry.
I'll talk with his Father.
And Wat stand you but firme, and live reform'd,
Winning my Daughters love, you shall have mine.
Phil.
That Fortune is not blinde, that shew'd me way
To Father, Friends, and Husband in one day.
Dry.
This binds us all into a Brother-hood.
Bro.
And with a Brothers Love I now salute you.
Dry.
So may we with a generall embrace,
Create the Heart of Friendship, not the Face.
Come Gentlemen, your Ordinary stayes,
Twill prove good fare (I hope) though no rich Feast;
And acceptable to each welcome Guest.
| The Damoiselle, or The New Ordinary | |