University of Virginia Library

Scene. 3.

Lucy. Theophilus.
Lu.
Indeed you were unkind to turn away
My maid (poor harmless maid) whose innocent mirth
Was the best chear your house afforded me.

The.
I am sorry sister, trust me, truly sorry,
And knew I which way to recover her
With my best care I would. Yet, give me leave,
I saw her overbold; and overheard her
Say, she foresaw that Arthur my sole enemy
Should be your husband. Ile marry you to death first.

Lu.
Now you fly out again.

The.
Your pardon again your sister,
And for your satisfaction I will strive
To oversway my passion. How now Arnold,
Ent. Arn.
Me thinks I read good newes upon thy face.

Ar.
The best, Sir, I can tell is, the old Jew
Quicksands has lost his wife.

The.
She is not dead,

Ar.
Tis not so well for him: for if she were
He then might overtake her though she were
Gone to the devil. But she's run away:
But to what corner of the earth, or under
Whose bed to find her in not to be thought.
It has rais'd such a laughter in the town
Among the Gallants—!

The.
And do you laugh too?

Ar.
Yes; and if you do not out-laugh all men
That hear the joyful newes, tis too good for you.

The.
I am too merciful, I kill thee not.
Out of my doors, thou villain, reprobate.

He beats Arnold.
Ar.
Hold, Pray Sir, hold.

The.
Never while I have power to lift a hand
Against thee, mischievous Villain.

Lucy
Is not this passion, brother?

The.
Forbear, sister.
This is a cause turns patience into fury.

Lu.
Arnold, forbear his sight.

The.
And my house too.
Or villain, look to die, oft as I see thee.

Ext. The. Lu.
Arn.
Turn'd out o'doors! A dainty frantick humour
In a young Master! Good enough for me though;
Because tis proper to old serving-men
To be so serv'd. What course now must I take?
I am too old to seek out a new Master.
I will not beg, because Ile crosse the proverb
That runs upon old serving creatures; stealing
I have no minde to: Tis a hanging matter.
Wit and invention help me with some shift
He kneels.
To help a cast-off now at a dead lift.
Sweet fortune hear my suit.

Ent. Nat. Vin. Edm.
Nat.
Why how now, Arnold! What, at thy devotion?

Ar.
Ile tell you in your ear, sir, I dare trust you.

Nat & Arnold whisper.
Vi.
Could earthly man have dreamt this Rascal Quick-sands.
Whose Letchery, to all our thinking, was
Nothing but greedy Avarice and cosonage,
Could have been all this while a conceal'd whoremaster,
To have a Bastard of so many years
Nursled i'th' Countrey?

Ed.
Note the punishments
That haunt the Miscreant for his black misdeeds;
That his base off-spring proves a natural Ideot;
Next that his wife, by whom he might had comfort
In progeny, though of some others getting,
Should with her light heels make him heavie-headed
By running of her Countrey! And lastly that
The blinded wretch should cast his servant off,
Who was the cover of his villany,
To shew us (that can have no mercy on him)
The way to plague him.

Uin.
Ha, ha, ha—

Ed.
What do'st laugh at?

Uin.
To think how nimble the poor uzzard is
To be reveng'd on's Master; How he has Shap'd himself;
Cut off his beard, and practis'd all the postures
To act the Changeling bastard.

Ed.
Could we light
Upon some quaint old fellow now, could match him
To play the clown that brings him up to town,
Our company were full, and we were ready
To put our project into present action.

Nat.
Gentlemen, we are fitted: take this man w'ye
He is the onely man I would have sought,
To give our project life. I'le trust thee Arnold,
And trust thou me, thou shalt get pieces by't;
Besides, Ile piece thee to thy Master again.

Ar.
That clinches Sir.

Nat.
Go follow your directions.

Uin.
Come away then.

Ex. Uin. Ed. Arn.
Nat.
Sweet mirth thou art my Mistress. I could serve thee.
And shake the thought off of all woman kind
But that old wonts are hardly left. A man
That's enter'd in his youth, and throughly salted
In documents of women, hardly leaves
While reins or brains will last him: Tis my case.
Yet mirth, when women fail, brings sweet incounters
That tickle up a man above their sphear:
They dull, but mirth revives a man: who's here,
En. Art.
The solitary musing man, cal'd Arthur,
Posses'd with seriours vanity; Mirth to me!
The world is full: I cannot peep my head forth
But I meet mirth in every corner: Ha!
Sure some old runt with a splay-foot has crost him!
Hold up thy head man; what dost seek? thy grave?
I would scarse trust you with a piece of earth
You would chuse to lye in though; if some plump Mistriss
Or a deft Lass were set before your search.

Ar.
How vainly this man talks!

Nat.
Gid ye good den forsooth.
How vainly this man talks! speak but truth now,
Does not thy thought now run upon a Wench?
I never look'd so but mine stood that way.

Ar.
'Tis all your glory that; and to make boast
Of the variety that serves your lust:
Yet not to know what woman you love best.

Nat.
Not I cadzooks, but all alike to me,
Since I put off my Wench I kept at Livory:
But of their use I think I have had my share,
And have lov'd every one best of living women;
A dead one I nere coveted, that's my comfort:
But of all ages that are pressable;
From sixteen unto sixty; and of all complections
From the white flaxen to the tawney-Moor;
And of all statures between Dwarf and Giants;
Of all conditions, from the Doxie to the Dowsabel.
Of all opinions, I will not say Religious:
(For what make they with any?) and of all
Features and shapes, from the huckle-back'd Bum-creeper,
To the streight spiny Shop-maid in St. Martins.
Briefly, all sorts and sizes I have tasted.

Ar.
And thinkst thou hast done well in't!

Nat.
As well as I could with the worst of 'em tho' I say't.
Few men come after me that mend my work.

Ar.
But thou nere thinkst of punishments to come;
Thou dream'st not of diseases, poverty,
The loss of sense or member, or the cross
(Common to such loose livers) an ill marriage;
A hell on earth to scourge thy conscience.

Nat.
Yes, when I marry, let me have a wife
To have no mercy on me; let the fate
Of a stale dovting Batchelor fall upon me;
Let me have Quicksands curse, to take a Wife
Will run away next day, and prostitute
Her self to all the world before her Husband.

Ar.
Nay, that will be too good: If I foresee
Any thing in thy marriage destiny,
'Twil be to take a thing that has been common
To th'world before, and live with thee perforce
To thy perpetual torment.

Nat.
Close that point.
I cannot marry. Will you be merry, Arthur?
I have such things to tell thee.

Ar.
No, I cannot.

Nat.
Pray thee come closer to me. What has crost thee?
Is thy suppos'd slain father come again,
To dispossess thee for another life time?
Or has thy valiant sister beaten thee? Tell me.
It shall go no further.

Ar.
Let your valiant wit
And jocound humor be suppos'd no warrant
For you t'abuse your friends by.

Nat.
Why didst tell me of marrying then? But I
Have done. And now pray speak what troubles you.

Ar.
I care not if I do: For 'twill be Town talk,
My Sister on a private discontent
Betwixt her self and me hath left my house.

Nat.
Gone quite away?

Ar.
Yes, And I know not whither.

Nat.
Beyond Sea sure to sight with th'Air, that took
Her fathers last breath into't. Went she alone?

Ar.
No, No; My man's gone with her.

Nat.
Who, the fellow
That brags on's back so; the stiff strong chin'd Rascal?

Ar.
Even he.

Nat.
The devil is in these young Tits,
And wildfire in their Cruppers.

Ar.
Let me charm you,
By all our friendship, you nor speak nor hear
An ill construction of her act in this,
I know her thoughts are noble; and my wo
Is swoln unto that fulness, that th'addition
But of word in scorn would blow me up
Into a cloud of wild distemper'd fury
Over the heads of all whose looser breath
Dare raise a wind to break me. Then I fall
A sodain storm of ruin on you all.

Exit.
Nat.
I know not how to laugh at this: It comes
So near my pitty. But ile to my Griggs
Again; And there will find new mirth to stretch
And laugh, like tickled wenches, hand ore head.

Exit.