 | Psyche Debauch'd |  |
Act V.
SCENE I.
A common Prison confused.A great noise heard—Singing, Shreeking, Groaning, Roaring, and Ratling of Chains.
Enter many common Prisoners, among which, Tagrag, Brazen-nose Tatterd-hoe, Shrubs-hall, Bull-barrow, bringing in the Princess and Princesses.—
All cry out.
—Garnish, garnish, garnish,
Tag.
Come, disburse, disburse.
Nick.
As I'm a true Prince, our Exchecquers were rob'd by
these miscreant Knights, that brought us to this Fortress.
Tag.
Strip, strip then, and go like an Eastern Monarch
half naked.—
Braz.
Ay, ay, cast off superfluous Trappings, they'l
harbour vermine to destroy the Microcosm.
Bulbar.
Come my dainty Damzels, you must pay for Entrance
too into our thrice nasty, and right dread Society.
Tag.
Skink away, sheer, drink, do'e hear not a rag of
Provaunt, and then we'l have a Song; and after that, erect
our mock-Court of Justice, and cast your Destinies: Cheer
up, if you dye like Birds on Trees, you shall be cut down
like Flowers, and your Funerals shan't cost you 2 d. you shall
be intom'd in a Ditch on the publick charge.
Come, a Song, a Song.—Princess Nonsy, put in your
Treble at Rome; be a Roman.—
Song:
Great Dukes of the Dungeon, and Knights of the Pad;
Now the Jaylor from hence is,
We are all great Princes.
Let's sing, let's laugh, let's drink, and be mad.
For older or younger, there's none can live longer
Then Fortune is pleased, and the King;
Then let's merrily sing, and dance in a string,
Then let's merrily sing, and dance in a string.
Our lodging's provided, the Rent is paid down.
Every Shop's our Exchecquer,
Each perse is our debtor,
We alwayes gain who ever's undone.
Treats on his doxy, we briskly do spend.
Ay, and when we are chain'd here,
She steals the remainder.
And kindly comes to visit her Friend.
Tag.
Now let's Adjourn to our Sessions house, and bring
our new Prisoners to Trial.
Exeunt all but Princes and Princesses.
Phil.
A pox o' your zeeking Ventures, cham as dumpish
a new shrouded Tree.—What course must we take now?
Nick.
Course, why I think 'tis better to be freed, and
marry the Princesses then be hang'd.—
Phil.
Why? I think zoo too, but then who must be hang'd
for killing Mother Redstreak?—Justice must be satisfi'd.
Giok.
Justice may be better satisfied with Marriage then
hanging—for 'tis now the greater punishment.
Phil.
Have you any 'Tority vor what you zay?
'Tority, no but I have reason—is not it better
to go to Heaven in a string, then be a Gally Slave, and be
chain'd to one seat all ones life?—
Phil.
Then do thee go to Heaven in a string, and let me
be Marri'd.
Nick.
Thank you for that, 'faith what a well meaning
Fool is this?—I tell thee 'twas not Redstreak, but the Bear
we kill'd.
Phil.
The Bear—Odzboars 'twas as errant a Woman as
my mother, and all the neighbours know she was right.—
Nick.
Then she was Enchanted?
Phil.
Enchanted! Ah, if this should be a lye, we are
bravely serv'd.—
Nick.
Why may not a Beast be turn'd to a Woman; we
see Women every day turn'd to Beasts.
Woud.
Y'are rightly serv'd, for a couple of Dander Nos'd
Princes as you are; if y'had Marri'd us, you, might both have
been King Andrews by this time.—
Non.
Why has our poor sneaking Daddy kick'd up his
heels? Ah dismall merry Tragedy, I thought somthing would
follow when I saw his Ghost, and heard the Circkets sing so
dolefully.
Woud.
Your tricks broak his heart, for when he heard
we were sent to Prison for stealing Trenchers; he sigh'd, eat
a great piece of Bread and Butter; and departed as quietly
as any sucking Pig.
The Scene drawn, discovers the Court of Rogues with attendants.
Phil.
Stint, stint, the Cwourtz zet, what must I zay Prince
Nick?
Nick.
Why say she kill'd her self volens nolens, in her
own defence.
Phil.
Bolens nolens,—a pox on your bolens nolens.—
Tag.
Bulbarrow, set the Prisoners to the Bar.—Read
their Indictment.
No, no, let's over-rule that formality, and proceed
to Sentence,
Tag.
First, for fashions sake, though we have most prudently
determin'd to hang them, whatever they can say—
ask them the usual question.—
Shrubshall.
—Guilty or not guilty, why don't you answer?
Tag.
Give 'em time, I know my face is terrible; for a Judges
leering smile is as certain a sign of death, as walking in
Sir John Broads Exchange all Dinner time, is a sign of an
empty pocket; Come Gentlemen Rogues, you that look
as sour as small Beer after Thunder; You with the Ember
face.
Braz.
You stand as if you were doing pennance, for
stealing a Pudding out of your neighbours Wives-Kettle.
Tag.
Or making Composition for killing your Father, or
eating Eggs on a Fasting day, which are equal Crimes among
the Learned,—answer, in what shape did thy Friend
the Devil appear, when he advis'd thee to act this horrid
bloody inhumanity.
Braz.
Inhumane, untoward, unhandsom, Brother, inforce,
the charge tatter'd ho: unhandsome, unwholesome.—
I say unwholesom, for I have believ'd 'twill cost thee thy
life; Villanous unlucky Tagrag.
Tag.
Unlucky, pitiful, most pitiful crime of—of What's
the Crime Brothers?—
Braz.
By my Commission I know not, but that's all one,
our business is to Judge, and hang the offenders; let the
Crimes alone, if we destroy them, our Trade will be at
an end.—
Tag.
Come, confess, confess your Crime, and you shall
have the favour to ride to the Gallows in a Coach.
Nick.
—Sir.—
Bull.
—Sir! You must say my Lord.
Tag.
Ha, who's that whisp'ring?—Bullbarrow—Sirrah!
how darst thou be of Counsel against the King? thou bloated
Jewish villain, that dost lye and batten in the Blood of poor
Counsel against the King?
Braz.
Against the King, a Jaylor would betray the Gods,
if Prisoners had Money to bribe him to't, tye him up.—
Bullb.
Ah! I beseech your good Lordships, I only Instructed
him to give you your just Titles, because I know
several have been hang'd for omitting them.—Pray your
Honours.
Tag.
Sirrah, no more of this,—Hatchet-face, speak you;
guilty, or not guilty?—
Phil.
She kill'd her self, volens nolens in her own defence,
ask Prince Nick else?—
Tag.
Ask Prince Nick.—
Phil.
—Ay—All King Andrew's Household can bear me
Concord, I was bred up in the Vear of my vather and mother
shrubsh: guilty or not guilty.—
Phil.
I zay cham not guilty, Prince Nick draw'd me in
like a young Wench to a Nunnery.—Volens, Nolens.
Tag.
So, so, Prince Nick draw'd thee in, and Squire Catch
shall draw thee out: Come Prince Nick, what say you
Prince Nick? speak out Prince Nick; quickly Prince Nick
you'r in a fine pickle Prince Nick.
Nick.
I say I am the man that kill'd the Bear, that stole
the Princess; that broke the heart of King Andrew.
Tag.
Brave! this is the Horse that come of the Mare, that
eat the Oats that grew in the Field, that was bought with
the Money that Jack stole.—Well Prince Nick.—Bring in
the Bears-head there.
The Womans head set on the Table.
Nick.
Now let my malicious adversaries hang their ears,
and eat one another as hungry Dogs devour dirty Puddings.
Behold my Lords; if this be not the Bear's head, I'm the
Sophy of Persia.
Tag.
I never met a more Intricate business, if any here
was acquainted with our defunct Sister, whether Bear or
Woman, let them discourse the head.—
I and my Sister Lippy know, this is the head of
honest Gammar Redstreak, and this we will swear; because
those unworthy Princes refused to marry us.
Tag.
Gentlemen, your Opinions; is it the Bear's, or the
Woman's head? All the Womans the Womans.
Tag.
Prince Nick! you hear the Sentence of the Court
Prince Nick!
Nick.
The Court's bewitch'd, and the head's enchanted.
Tag.
Sirrah! you grow saucy, tye up Prince Nick.
Nick.
Why may not the Bears-head be chang'd to a
Womans, as well as Mambrino's Helmet to a Barbers bason,
or a notorious Fellon to your Lordships, let the head deny it
if it dares.
The hands lift up the head, and it speakes, and then flies up in the Air.
Redstreak is dead;
And here is her head.
Prince Nick, and Phil,
Did me kill.
Oh I, confess! I confess! pray hang me quickly,
least the head should do me some mischeif.
Tag.
Take 'em away, I knew this would do, 'tis not the
first time Ghosts have appear'd to hang their Murtherers.
Set those she Monsters to the Bar.
Exeunt Princess Nick and Phil.
Tatterd.
Brother, it grows late, and I have no sweet-meats
to nibble on, which I think as becoming the gravity of a
Judge, as a Tooth-pick the Solemn State of a Spanish Grandee.—
Pray let the Court over-rule all they can say, and
proceed to Sentence; for my stomack is maukish.
Tag.
Be it so; I'le give directions to the Jury in a wise speech
according to Custom, and then we'l adjourn the Court.
Gentlemen of the Jury, it was an Ancient saying among
the noble Romans, and worthy of everlasting Fame; set
the Hares Head against the Goose-Jiblets, and 'tis a right
worthy custom among those modern Eeroes: That Collar-
all this for, but to teach us to mix Mercy with Justice?—
We are here met together, and for what are we met togeher?
to lye (like Diogenes lazily) in a Tub, 'till the Sun
cures the disease of State; No, we must set our hand to the
Plough tail, let every one pluck a hair from the thick bushy
Beard of Malefactors, and the Chinn of mischief will soon
be bald; as Poor Robbin has it in his modern Philosophy:
We have discover'd a Wasps Nest of Hornets to you, 'tis
your part to set the Brimstone of Justice on fire, and smother
them with the smoak of Correction.—Two are found
Guilty, of stealing most Feloniously Gammer Redstreaks head
from her shoulders, so much to her Detriment, that she will
hardly ever be her own Woman again.—This appears as
clear to the eye of reason, as if it were written with the
Rain-bow on the South wind.
The two eldest Daughters of King Andrew, of notorious
memory are in for stealing Trenchers.—You must find them
Guilty, because We the mouth of the Law determine it: if
any grumblings of Conscience arise within yow. The
Court over-rules them; Psyche the 2d. also Miss Nonsy shall be
freed, because her Predecessor Psyche the first was, though
both (for runing from their Fathers; and practising publickly
what their Sisters did but wish well to) deserve more punishment
then they.—Now dispatch! and as Socrates says what
you do, do quickly?—I read your Sentence in your looks;
The Princes have already suffer'd, and for your Ladies errant.
The Sentence of the Court is, that you never be marri'd,
but allow'd the Conversation of all men through a
Grate without touching any; to Lasses of your Complexion,
I think this is as bad as drawing Water in a Cieve, or being
hang'd in Chains alive; away with them.
Exeunt all but None-so-fair. The Scene changes
Non.
In Hellish hole be left alone;
With pinches, and pricks of pin,
Be rack'd all day, all night with din?
By Dog of Newgate thump'd and stamp'd;
By Rogues and Vermine kept from sleep,
While some do roar, and some do weep.
Oh Woossat, harsh, Prince Bruin cruel,
To sneak away from precious Jewel:
Yet in these horrours I could sing,
Had I again my pretty thing.
For none are cruel to the Fair;
The Crooked, the Old, and deformed shall be,
From cares and affronts never free;
But the Youthful, the pretty and kind,
In a Prison some pity will find,
For all are to Love, and to beauty inclin'd.
One gives her a Bottle of Brandy, and Sings—this.
'Twill make mother Woossat soon leave off her rants,
For I know she is one of my Naunts.
Though she's hot as a Codling,
'Twill make her straight Maudlin.
She'l sip, she'l sigh, she'l swear, she'l sing, and she'l melt,
She'l kiss thee, and groan for the pains thou hast felt.
Alass my poor Nonsy I grieve for thy smart,
For though an old Woman be never so tart;
A dram of the Bottle will soften her heart.
And the Princes are in the Pit-hole.
There they shall stay,
For ever and a day.
But Nonsey shall straight go to play,
1.
—Make hast poor Nonsey,
2.
—Make hast poor Nonsey,
Both.
—Make hast poor Nonsey to Bruin,
1.
—For Nonsey shall injoy her pretty thing.
2.
—For Nonsey &c.—
Both.
—For Nonsey &c.—
Chorus of all.
make hast poor Nonsey.
make &c.—
make—
For Nonsey.
Non.
Now I am so glad and so sorry, I don't know which
Leg to set foremost.—My Sisters were two crabbed vixons to
me, yet their Sufferings put out the lighted Tinder of my
joy, but then the Steel of my love strikes new Fire into the
Tinder-box of my Inclination, and makes my natural affection
glow again; I shall injoy my Bear for ever. Oh happy
Nonsey!—yet this was a horrible merry Tragedy, O lo!
the Princess, Nicklas, and Phillip here again!—
Enter Princess, Phil. and Nick.
Nick.
No, we are but their Ghosts.
Non.
Their Ghosts, Oh! 'tis well you say so your selves,
for no-Body would believe it from any other,—what makes
you come to me?
Nick.
We vow'd at our Death's to come, and tell you
what place we were at.
Non.
Poor loving Ghosts, tell me quickly then?—
Immediately after we were dead, we found our
selves in a bower; made all of Wishes pav'd with thoughts,
where at a Table of Heigh hoes sat King Andrew, and Mother
Redstreak at Dinner; they had a Phænix boil'd with a Dish
of love Raptures, and drank nothing but Spirit of Extasie,
we sat down with them, and Six Gods attended us: after
Dinner we slept upon a Couch of Virginity, imbroyder'd all
over with Kings smiles; then walking by a Fountain of
Fruition, who should we see but King Andrew and his Queen
at Hey-gammer-Cook in a Grotto of Innocence.
Non.
Oh most ravishing delights! but why is Phillip's
Ghost so mopish?
Nick.
He would have been kind to Gammar Redstreak,
and she threw a Glass of extasie in his Chops.—One thing
dear Princess we must intreat of you, that you will sing that
Ingenious Song of the delights of the Bottle three and thirty
times, and make as many Cursy's to the West; for till that is
done, our Soul's won't be free of Elyzium.
Nonsy.
Upon my Honour, I'le do't, though I were to give
my self a thump in the back ev'ry time.—For example.
When they pour out their pleasures will make a man mad.
All the night in deep Healths, and loud Curses is spent,
Which the dull silly Fop the next day does repent.
And Love's sweet debauch in a moment is gone,
But leaves a damn'd Pox to last all the life long.
All the World, but for them, would grow vertuous and good.
Were it not for the Witchcrafts of Wenching and Wine,
Madam,—would be poor, and my Lord would be fine.
But she now keeps her Coach, and can live without thinking,
And damns her Debauch with his Wenching and Drinking.
Enough, enough, dear Princess; farewel when
thus you do,
Think of us two.
Phil.
Dear Princess, Farewel. When thus you do, think of
us two,
None.
Farewel, two such loving Ghosts were never found
[—On English Ground.]
The delights of the Bottle &c.—Oh how I begin to be
weary! If this will make Mother Woossat's heart chearful?
sure 'twill refresh me?—Princess thy good health,—Nonsy
I'le pledge thee six go-downs,—humming stuff upon my
honour. Princess, where is this sold Princess? Asking questions
Nonsy!—Time's precious: Ah poor loving Ghosts!—The
delights of the Bottle &c. You had hard Fortune; but there's
one above knows all. Oh my head swims! and I grow saint
with strength.—My dear Bear farewell.—The delights of the
Bottle.—
[She falls asleep.]
Enter Bruin.
Bru.
O lemine I think she's here!
Where are thy eyes? thy pretty eyes,
Look how thy love poor Bruin cries.
She's dead, she's dead, she's dead,
Oh! whither art thou fled?
Oh Mother Woossat! Oh cruel Death!
Oh! who has stop'd thy spicey breath?
Oh pretty Nonsy! Oh hapless Bruin!
Oh fie! Oh dear! Oh me! Oh thee! Oh hear!
Oh Woossat Mother! since tha'st kill'd my joy,
I will thy Imps and sucking Toads destroy.
And what so e'r thou dost, I will undo.
Woossat flies down in her Charriot.
Wooss.
So Insolent, why, what a Murrain?
You'l find the stink the worse for stirring.
Bru.
I will revenge my dear Nonesee,
On Justice Crab, and eke on thee.
What Hellish Teen? what Devilish Ire,
Made thee leave Nonsey in the mire?
Wooss.
For her you did neglect my Trade,
And when to Wishing-Chair I call'd for aid,
You wheedl'd him to be your Bawd.
Bru.
Oh save my love! my Nonsy save,
And I'le for ever be thy Slave.
I'le trot to Carriers ev'ry week,
Fresh Countrey Ware for thee to seek.
And when thou hast'm,
I'le bring thee ev'ry Gallants Custom.
Wooss.
Pry'thee stint thy silly talk,
Thou mayest as well turn Cheese to Chalk.
Bru.
Oh my Nonsey! Oh my heart Blood and Guts!
Oh save my dear! Oh save my Queen of Sluts!
Thou stony-hearted Witch, is this so much?
Think, what fine Nymphs I did for thee debauch?
Wooss.
Thou prat'st in vain, the cruel Dye is cast,
Bru.
Oh cruel Mother! whither in such hast?
I'le show thy tricks, and all thy conjuring Art;
And make thee ride in Triumph in a Cart.
No Gallant e'r shall rap at dore,
And without Man, in vain is Whore.
Wooss.
Th'art insolent I'le hear no more.
Woossat Enters into her Charriot.
Bru.
Inhumane Woossat do not run,
And let thy Son be quite undone.
By thy beloved Incubus.
Thy publick Drabs, and private dores,
Thy little Bottles, and great scores:
Thy much Impudence, and no shame,
By all thy sports and by that same:
Oh stay the Cart! stay the Cart! stay the Cart.
He lays hold, and is drawn up; till he pulls down the Charriot. Justice Crab is driven in, in a Wheel-barrow.
Bru.
O ho, here's Justice Crab! now by this light,
He'l do me right.
Dear Soul, I beg you'l check the Hag,
And read her a Lecture for abusing her Hector.
Crab.
Matron of love, be kind to bauling Imp,
And let him have his am'rous shrimp.
If Hector be disgruntl'd, Trade is broken,
He'l make thy mischiefs known by tale and token
Redstreak and the King, you made dye,
And caused the Princess sad Tragedy.
Both Sisters ruin'd by your Plot,
If Nonsy too should go to Pot.
He'd blaze all this about the Town,
And make thy very house pull'd down.
Wooss.
Shall he have mortal only to his use?
When Pomp and State ne'r so much bigger?
Can't keep frail Missy to one trigger:
No, 'tis to credit Trade, and House abuse;
Besides she'l eat Bread out of mouth;
I will not suffer't, 'faith, and troth.
Crab.
Nonsey's business shall be done,
She's mortal, therefore may be wone;
No, Missy was ever true to one.
Wooss.
Then Nonsy rise, rise my sweet punck;
She seemed dead, yet was but drunk.
Rise from thy Chair as soft as Couch,
And turn to Arms of loving Slouch.
Non.
Wha, wha, what's the matter? who's there? Not
guilty, Not guilty my Lord Tagrag, Heigh ho, I wish you
were all hang'd for waking me. Gods! have I my pretty thing
again?
Bru.
Thou hast, Oh let me hug and buss it!
Thanks to great Crab, and Mother Woossat.
Non.
I have—Oh let me hug and buss it!
Thanks to great Crab, and Mother Woossat.
Crab.
Come jolly lovers, let's be trudging;
Ile see you both safe in your lodging.
There kiss and take your fill of dodging:
First to my Hall, for there are coming.
A Crew of jovial youth's a mumming.
So well you shall be treated there,
That ev'ry Youth, and Damzel here;
Shall envy joys of Youth and Bear.
[Exeunt all.]
The Scene open'd, discovers a Crew of Bachanals dressed with Ivy, and Vine-leaves, drinking, and laughing: beyond them a company of Lovers adorn'd with Garlands of Roses, &c. in a pleasant Grove.
Song by the Bacchanals.
While this is a singing, Bacchus rises, riding on a Hogs-head dressed with Vine-branches and Ivy.
Time's an old Rascal, he never will stay,
Yet in spite of his Scythe, and his Glass;
He that flies from his liquors an Ass.
Boy, drink away, Boy drink away.
While this is singing, Cupid flies down on the Stage.
Nymph, Goddess, beauties shrine, O eyes and hearts!
Stars, Suns, and Diomands, Roses, and Lillies,
Damon Alexis! Oh Cloris! Ah Phillis!
Powr's, Gods, and Fates, Oh pity joy, and pain,
Languish alass, Fears, Hopes, Smiles, and Disdain.
Oh cruel Nymph! Ah unrelenting Swayn!
sings.
While this is singing, all the Bacchanals come on the Stage.
Come my Sons of the Grape, while your faces outshine
The Sun in the Sky, with the juice of the Vine.
Let the pale whining lover discover
How sad are the Chains, and how pleasant are mine.
Cupid
sings.
While this is singing the lovers come on the Stage.
Come happy Lovers, come, and tell,
The joys that in your Bosom's dwell.
The pleasures of the hands and eyes,
How ev'ry look and touch surprize,
Let your perswasive Language prove,
There is no Paradice but Love.
Chorus of all.
We come to dye or win the Field,
For hearts, with Love and Bacchus fill'd.
Can fight, and fall; but never yield.
A Song by a Lover
In an Ocean of grief my fair Goddess did rise,
And like Christal dissolv'd, the tears flow'd from her eyes.
From her beautiful Cheeks, all the Roses withdrew,
And she look'd like a Lilly o'rladen with dew.
How I trembl'd, and sigh'd, and for every tear,
Made a vew to the Gods, and a Prayer to her,
Oh how soft are the wounds we receive from the fair!
But the joys and the pleasures there's none can declare.
When imbracing her feet before Cælia I kneel:
Oh how dear are her smiles! and how sweetly they kill?
Ev'ry minute I dye with the thoughts of her Bliss,
And she breaths a new life in each languishing kiss.
Let no Passion, but love in our fancies e'r reign,
Let us often be cur'd, and ne'r freed from our pain.
All the pleasures of Wine to the Sense are confin'd,
But 'tis Love is the Noblest delight of the mind.
SONG. by a Bacchanal.
And their pleasures end all like an old Winters tale.
But the Beauties of Wine do still sparkle and shine,
And make all that love it, and drink it Divine.
But the aged, and cold, become active and bold,
Look as plump, and as brisk as the Grape that's unprest,
When their heads with the Spirit of Wine are possest.
The Clouds open, and from the inner part of the Heaven, descends Jupiter in his Charriot drawn by Eagles.
sings.
To whose high Pow'rs all Mortals bend.
Before this Assembly, where are
The Amorous, the Youthful, and Fair,
Make an end of your long doubtful War.
All the World is your own, & your Rites would maintain:
But without one another, you neither can Reign.
The Union of Cupid, and Bacchus proclaim.
Trumpets are heard a far off, the Heavens divide; and from the furthest end Mercury flies down attended by Fame, and the whole Heaven appears adorn'd with Angels, &c. and Musick.—
Mercury
sings.
The weighty Gods, Cupid and Bacchus, send greeting.
Whereas by some Poets a wicked design
Of difference, was raised between Love and good Wine.
They now do declare
An end of the War,
And the hearts of all Mortals will equally share.
From Love to the Charms of Bacchus repair,
And when Bacchus inflames you with too hot a Fire,
To the pleasures of Love for assistance retire.
What have we else in this dull World to think on?
But still to love, to drink, and love, and drink on?
And let each Nymph be made a kind believer.
For he that loves, and drinks, will ne'r deceive her.
Enter two Elizian Princes, and dance through Hoops.
The Dance ended,
Mercury
speaks to the Audience.
Although the War 'twixt Love and Wine is done,
We dare not triumph, 'till your pleasure's known;
For here the very Gods your Powers own.
If all that Love and Drink loud plaudits ring,
The joyful Gods, and Nymphs again shall sing,
Sing.
—And Nonsy shall injoy her pretty thing.
| Psyche Debauch'd | |