 | The Gamester |  |
Actus. I.
Enter Master Wilding, and Mistris Penelope.Wild.
What neede you be so coy now?
Pen.
Pray collect
Your selfe, remember what you are, and whose
You have a vertuous gentlewoman, thinke
Upon your faith to her.
Wi.
Thinke of a Fiddle-sticke.
While you put me in minde of what I am,
You quite forget your selfe: my wife I allow
Your kinswoman farre off, to whom a widdow
Your father left you, with a handsome fortune,
Which by her marriage, I have in possession,
And you too; therefore as you hope to be
In due time worth a husband, thinke upon't:
I can deserve respect, then wisely use me,
As you would keepe me.
Pene.
This is but a triall
Of my strength, for I know you have more charity,
(Should I consent) then Ship-wracke your owne honor.
But take heede sir, how you proceede to jest
With frailty, least too much disordering
Loose your owne innocence.
Wi.
I jest? you'ld have me sweare, and yet you should not
thinke it such a wonder: to love: come, shake off this frost, it
spoiles thee; your nature should be soft, and flexible; perhaps
thou thinkst, I doe not love thee hartily, I know not how to
give thee better testimony, then by offering my selfe to thee:
if my wife die, as tenn to one shee's not immortall, we may
couple tother way.
Pene.
What argument is this to assure the truth of your affection
to me, that breake your vowes to her?
Wi.
Oh! great argument, and you observe: she was a widdow
when I married her, thou art a yong maide; and
handsome.
Pene.
Can you be so ingratefull, to punish whom you should
reward, remember sir, shee brought you that wealth you have.
tooke you from nothing—
Wi.
Ther's reason then for nothing I should love her: hang
her estate, I was held a proper man, and in that point, deserv'd
her, and shee had millions: and I were free againe, I
would not draw i'th teame of marriage for ten subsidyes,
not to command a Province.
Pene.
Yet you said, were your wife dead you'd marry me.
Wi.
Onely thee, and no body else.
Pene.
'Twere dangerous to have many.
Wi.
To have one, is little lesse then madnes; come, wo't
promise?
Enter Mistris Wilding.
Pene.
What?
Wi.
A course, you know my meaning.
Mi.
I doe not like this whispering, why with her
So close in parly?
Wi.
Wo't thou doe this feate for me?
'Tis finish'd in a paire of minuts.
Pene.
Yes, upon one condition.
Wi.
What condition?
Pe.
That your wife give consent, you shall then command me.
Wi.
I'le undertake to goe a pilgrimage
To Ierusalem, and returne sooner: wood
I did not love thee, love thee infinitely,
That's all, 'two not doe—My wife, I hope.
Exit Pene.
She cannot finde the way to Heaven; I should not
Trouble her in hast, these wives will have no conscience,
But sticke to us everlastingly. Now Lady,
How did your monkey rest last night, you looke
As you had not done your prayers yet, I wonot disturbe you.
Mi.
Pray sir stay, let me but know
Some reason why you use me thus unkindly?
If I have beene gilty of offence, I am not
Past hope, but with the knowledge of my error,
'Tis possible I may amend, and please you.
Wi.
I doe not like you.
Mi.
You did marrie me.
Wi,
Yes, I did marrie you; her's too much record for't,
I would there were a Parson to unmarry us,
If any of our Clergie had that faculty,
He might repaire the old, and build as many
New Abbeyes through the Kingdome in a twelue month.
Shall I speake truth? I never much affected thee,
I married thee for thy soules sake, not thy body,
And shall as soone get children on't: and yet
I doe not hate thee, witnesse, I dare kisse,
Hold thee by the hand, and sleepe in the same house,
And in thy bed sometimes, something ha's beene done.
Mi.
Within the memorie of man, but—
What sir?
Wi.
You have a scurvy quality wife, I told you on't.
Mi.
Once more, and I'le correct it.
Wi.
You are given to be jealous, I cannot
Ramble abroad in gentlemens company
Whole dayes, ly out a nights, but you suspect
I am wanton, 'tis ill done, it becomes no modest
Woman: that loves her husband, to be jealous,
What e're she see, or heares, mend, mend this fault,
You doe not know, how it may worke upon me.
Some wife will bid her husbands leverets welcome,
Keepe house together, and provide cleane sheets,
And cullices to fortifie; you neere did it:
Know her owne Chamber and not come forth
Till she be sent for; if her husband kisse her,
Suffer her carve at Table, she is satisfied,
And none o'th parish talke, she carries it
So handsomlie: these moralls I have read
Before now, but you put them not in practise,
Nor for ought I perceive, have disposition too't,
Therefore i'le take my course.
Mi.
To shew I can
Be obedient to my griefes, from this time, sir,
I wonot urge with one unwelcome syllable,
How much I am neglected, i'le conceale it
Too from the world, your shame must needs be mine.
I see you doe not love me, where your heart
Hath plac'd a worthier thought, let it dwell ever,
Freely persue your pleasures, I will have
No passion that shall mutinie, you are,
And shall be Lord of me still.
Wi.
I like this, if it be no disguise.
Mi.
Do not suspect me,
I would sweare by a kisse, if you vouchsafe it,
You shall not keepe a servant, that shall be more humble.
Wi.
And obedient to my will?
Mi.
In all things.
Wi.
But if I bring home a mistresse?
Mi.
I'le call her sister.
Wi.
What if there be one
Already, that does please me, will you not
Repine, and looke awry upon's, when we
Make much of one another?
Mi.
So you will but sometimes smile on me too, i'le indeavour.
Wi.
Well said, this may doe good upon me, as
I finde you prompt in this, I may consider
Other matters: to tell you true, I love
Your kinswoman.
Mi.
How?
Wi.
I'th way you wot on, but
I finde her cold and peevish, how she maie
Be brought about I know not, 'twould shew well,
And be a president for other wives,
If you would put your helpe too't.
Mi.
Goodnes blesse me.
One woman with another can doe more
In such a cause, then twentie men. I doe not
Wander, you see, out of the blood, this will
Be a way to justifie your obedience.
Mi.
You shew a tyrant now, and stead of framing
My soule to patience, murder both.
Exit.
Wi.
I have gone too farre a conscience; this may
Spoile all, and now I thinke upon't, I was
A coxcombe to discover any party,
I must deny't againe, and carry things
More closelie. How now Will?
Enter Hazard.
Ha.
How now Will?'s that all?
Looke up, and aske me a question like a man,
What melancholy?
Wi.
No, no; a toy, a trifle,
Ha.
That should be a woman, who'st thou art thinking on?
I have beene of your counsell.
Wi.
I was thinking,
o' my Wife—
Ha.
I met her sadd.
Wi.
I cannot blame her;
We have had a dialogue; come, thou know'st my bosome,
Ha.
when do'st meane to lie with her?
Wi.
I know not, but I have offer'd faire conditions:
Shee is very confident, I doe not dote
Upon her beauty, I have told her, sirra,
I love her kinswoman.
Ha.
Y'are not so mad.
Wi.
The worlds deceav'd in her, sheele give me leave,
To ramble where I list, and feede upon
What best delights my appetite.
Ha.
He that has
An ambition to be strangled in his sleepe,
May tell his wife he loves another woman.
Wi.
But I was not content with this, because
The other wench was somewhat obstinate,
I must needs urge my wife, to mollifie
And mold her, for my purpose.
Ha.
And she consented too?
Wi.
No 'twould not doe.
This went against her stomacke and we parted.
Ha.
Next time you see her, looke to be presented
With your mistresses nose for this, do'st thinke a woman
I'th same roofe, and leave her eyes, to see thee
Agen? I am sorry for thee.
Wi.
I am confident
Shee dare not: but for all that, would I had
Beene lesse particular.
Ha.
Come, I love thee well,
But not thy wit, to carry things no handsomer:
You must unravell agen, and make your wife
Beleeve you did but try her.
How now, what's the newes here?
Enter Officers with Delamore wounded.
1 Off.
Quickly to a Surgeon, beare him gently.
Ha.
What's the businesse.
2 Off.
Nothing, sir, but a gentleman is kild, and we are
Carrying him to a Surgeon.
Wi.
Tis Jacke Delamore, he is not dead.
Ha.
Who hurt him?
Ha.
Master Beamont; we cannot stay, sir.
Wi.
Why they were friends.
2 Off.
But wine made them fall out, some say, about
Their Mistresses.
Wi.
I did expect a woman at one end on't.
What miserable fooles are men, to kill
One another for these Cockatrices!
Ha.
I am sorry for poore Beamont.
Wi.
It would be long ere any mistresse would
Be so desperate for her servant, this is valur,
High and mighty valor.
Ha.
Men must preserve
Their honors man, thou dost not know their quarrell?
Wi.
Thou art held a peece of a kill-Cow too, looke too't
before the sessions take an order w'ee: ist not a great deale safer,
now to skermish with a Peticote, and touze a handsome
wench in private; then be valiant in the streets, and kisse the
Gallowes for't? hang, hang this foolerie, let gentlemen
rather live, and pay their Tailors, then let their clothes enrich
the hangmans wardrobe.
Ha.
But skermishing as you call it, with the Peticote,
Is by some, held away to this preferment,
Dropt in their quarrell.
Wi.
Let them be such coxcombs
They cannot die too soone; cannot I have
A Lady of pleasure, but to please her humour,
I must be engag'd to fight and kill men for her?
Because her healths refus'd, anothers nose
Or teeth preferrd, substantiall grounds for murder,
We spend our blood too much another way;
Consumption take me, if I fight for one on 'em,
I will drinke single beere first, and live honest,
Gentlemen are come to a fine passe, doe not you
Thinke but tis possible, I may fight for all this?
Ha.
There may be causes, that have women in 'em,
But I confesse, no polecats, or lewd strumpets,
Though I doe use the tricke o'th flesh, shall drive
Me to the Surgeon; I had a mother.
Wi.
And I have a wife, would thou had'st her.
Ha.
No, No, she is well as shee is,
There may be honor to defend these.
Wi.
Sometimes
Ha.
But ther's a mischiefe greater then all these
A base and sorded provocation,
Us'd among gentlemen, they cannot quarrell
About a glasse of Wine, but out flies streight
Sonne of a whore, dead mothers must be torne,
Out of their graves, or living, have their names
Poysoned by a prodigious breath: it were
A brave and noble Law, to make this tongue
Be cut for't, it wod save much blood ith yeere,
That might be spent more honorablie.
Wi.
The lie grew a dull provocation, this has quickn'd us,
but leave this common place, thou canst not helpe it, letts talke
of something else. Stay is not this Beaumont?
Enter Beaumont, and Officers.
Ha.
Apprehended, alas poore gentleman; how now Ned?
Bea.
As you see gentlemen, cald to my account.
Wi.
We heard a peece of the misfortune, but
Be not dejected, he may live.
Bea.
I feare it.
Pray lead me where you please, alas. Violante! this newes will
Exit.
Wi.
I'le with him, and know the story.
Ha.
Twill but trouble me;
I can doe him no service, beside that,
I am engag'd to meete old Master Barnacle.
Enter Acre-lesse, Little-stocke, and Sell-away.
Whither, whither Gentlemen, with your swords drawne?
Acr.
Doest not see a gentleman led to Prison?
Wee'le reskue him from the Offcers, come joyne with us:
We shall draw more to the cause.
Ha.
You doe not meane
this rashnes; hide your swords, be advis'd better;
D'ee know his fact?
Lit.
He has slaine a gentleman.
Sel.
They say he is not dead, the wounds not mortall.
Ha.
And will you make one past cure?
Acr.
How do'st meane?
Ha.
Upon your selves, coole your hot bloods a little,
No mutuny my countrymen, remember,
If he recover that is hurt, the tother
Will come off well enough, without your volour:
Breath, breath a while, you may if you have a minde too't
Instead of reskuing, betray a gentleman,
And your selves too, to a danger.
Lit.
He sayes right.
Ha.
Tis scurvey wearing hempe, if you scape killing,
There be more butchers then sell flesh; and Citizens
Have no mercy in their Clubs, especially
When gentlemen have so litle wit, to bring
There heads to 'th knocking downe, 'tis a revenge
They owe you for their wives, oh take heede mainely
Of these left handed Halberdiers.
Acr.
Confound 'em.
Ha.
How many will you kill with your bird-spit?
You have more leggs and armes at home, which makes
You valiant, i'le not pare my nailes to day,
And yet I love my friend, as the best on you;
You know I dare fight too, but in this cause
You must needs pardon me, I beleeve the stoutest
That now would seeme all fire, and sword, will goe
With as ill will to hanging, as another,
And will becom't as scurvily, take your courses.
I thinke 'tis better:
Ha.
O'th two, to go to the Taverne, and be drunke
In your owne defence, a wench is not so dangerous
Nor the Disease that waites upon her.
Acr.
What if the gentleman that's hurt should die?
Then ther's no hope for tother.
Ha.
Lesse for you,
You would be guilty of his murther too,
And snatch him from the Law, why you may doo't:
Tis pity but the government should thanke you,
And if you scape the halter for't, it may be
Another man in time, may cut your throate,
And ther's one for another, paid in the blood.
Come be your selves, these are not acts of gentlemen,
Where shame, not honor must reward your daring,
Though we be wild, it followes not we should
Be mad out-right.
Lit.
I was ever of his minde.
Acr.
Come lett's to Taverne.
Ha.
I am for that coast, now I thinke upon't
I'le meete you at the new randevow within
This halfe-houre, I expect a gentleman
That has engaged my promise; i'le come t'ee
Ere you be halfe drunke.
Sel.
Doe not faile.
Ha.
Drinke Sack and thinke not on't, what should be
The busines that old Barnacle has desired
My conference? 'tis not to lend me money sure,
Hee's here.
Enter Master Barnacle.
Bar.
Master Hazard.
Ha.
I was comming to you, sir.
Bar.
I am fortunate to prevent so great a trouble,
There is a busines, sir, wherein I must desire your favour.
Ha.
Mine? command it, sir.
Bar.
Nay i'le be thankefull too, I know you are
A gentleman.
Ha.
That should incline, you thinke
I am not mercenarie.
Ba.
I beseech you, sir,
Mistake me not, rewards are due to vertues,
And honor must be cherish'd.
What's your purpose?
Pray cleere my understanding.
Ba.
To be plaine, sir,
You have a name i'th Towne for a brave fellow.
Ha.
How, sir, you doe not come to jeere me?
Ba.
Patience, I meane you have the opinion
Of a valiant genleman, one that dares
Fight and maintaine your honor against odds,
The sword-men doe acknowledge you, the baylies
Observe their distance, all the swaggering puffes
Strike their top-sailes, I have heard 'em in the streets
Saie there goes daring Hazard, a man carelesse
Of wounds, and though he have not had the lucke
To kill so many as another, dares
Fight with all them that have.
Ha.
You have heard this.
Ba.
And more, and more, mistake not.
I do not all this while acompt you in
The list of those are cald the blades, that roare
In brothells, and breake windowes, fright the streets
At mid-night worse then Constables, and sometimes
Set upon innocent Bell-men, to beget
Discourse for a weekes dyet, that sweare, dammes,
To pay their debts, and march like walking armories,
With Poyniard, Pistoll, Rapier, and Batoone,
As they would murder all the Kings leige people,
And blow downe streets; no I repute you valiant
Indeede, and honor'd, and come now without
More ceremony, to desire your favour;
Which as you are a gentleman, I hope
You'le not denie me.
Ha.
Though your Language
Be something strange, yet, because I thinke you dare not
Intend me an abuse, I wonot question it,
Pray to the point, I do not thinke, your come
To have me be your second.
Bar.
I am no fighter,
Though I have seene a fence-schoole in my Dayes,
And crackt a Cudgell, yet I come about
A fighting businesse.
You would have me beate some body for you.
Bar.
Not so noble Hazard, yet
I come to entreat a valiant curtesie,
Which I am willing to requit in money,
I have brought gold to give you paiment, sir,
Tis a thing you may easily consent to,
And 'twill oblige me ever.
Ha.
Be particular.
Bar.
Then thus you are not ignorant I have a Nephew, sir.
Ha.
You have so.
Bar.
One that's like
To be my heire, the onely of my name
That's left, and one that may in time be made
A prettie fellow.
Ha.
Very well, proceede.
Ba.
You know or you imagine, that I have.
A pretty estate too.
Ha.
Y'are held a maine rich man, sir,
In money able to weigh downe an Alderman.
Ba.
I have more then I shall spend; now I come close,
I would have this Nephew of mine, converse with gentlemen.
Ha.
And hee does so.
Ba.
I'le not pinch him in's allowance,
The University had almost spoild him.
Ha.
With what?
Ba.
With modesty a thing you know
Not here in fashion, but that's almost cur'd,
I would allow him to be drunke.
Ha.
You may, sir.
Ba.
Or any thing to speake him a fine gentleman,
Ha.
With your favour, sir, let me be bold a litle
To interrupt you, were not you a Citizen?
Ba.
Tis confest, sir.
Ha.
It being a thriving way
A walke wherein you might direct your Nephew,
Why d'ee not breede him so?
Ba.
I apprehend;
And thus I satisfie you, we that had
Our breeding from a Trade, cits as you call us,
Though we hate gentlemen our selves, yet are
Ambitious, to make all our children gentlemen,
In three generations they returne agen,
I'th Countrie, begets children, and they sell,
Grow poore, and send their sonnes up to be Prentises:
There is a whirle in fate, the Courtiers make
Us cuckolds; marke, we wriggle into their
Estates, poverty makes their children Citizens;
Our sonnes cuckold them, a circular justice,
The World turnes round, but once more to the purpose.
Ha.
To your Nephew.
Ba.
This Nephew of mine, I do love deerly;
He is all my care, I would be loth to loose him,
And to preserve him both in life, and honor:
I come to you.
Ha.
Now you come to me indeede, sir.
Bar.
What shall I give you, sir, to let him—
Ha.
What?
Bar.
Pray be not angry.
Ha.
By no meanes.
Bar.
There is no such security i'th World,
I'le pay for't heartily.
Ha.
For what?
Ba.
What shall I give you troth, and let him.
Ha.
What?
Bar.
Beate you, sir?
Acr.
How?
Ba.
Nay do not, sir, mistake me, for although
I name it, caursely I desire it should be
With your consent, no otherwise; my Nephew
Is raw, and wants opinion, and the talke
Of such a thing, to beate a gentleman,
That all the Townes afraid of, would bee worth
In's credit, heaven knowes what, alas you cannot
Blame a kinde Uncle, to desire all meanes
To get his Nephew fame, and keepe him safe,
And this were such a way.
Ha.
To have me beaten.
Ba.
Y'are i'th right, but doe not misconceive me,
Under your favour, my intention is not
He should much hurt you, if you please to let him
Quarrell, or so at Taverne, or where else
You shall thinke fit, and throw a pottle-pot—
Ha.
At my head.
Ba.
Yes, or say it be a quart, still under your correction,
Onely that some of your acquaintance and
Affront you, and come off with honor handsomelie,
Looke her's a hundred peeces, tell, 'em i'th Ordinarie
Th'are weight upon my credit, play 'em not
Against light gold, this is the Prologue to
My thanks, beside my Nephew shall in private
Acknowledge himselfe beholding.
Ha.
A hundred peeces! I want mony.
Bar.
Right.
Ha.
You give me this to let your Nephew beate me.
Bar.
Pray take me w'ee, I do not meane he should
By beating, hurt you dangerouslie, you may
Contrive the quarrell, so that he may draw
Some blood, or knocke you, o're the pate, and so forth,
And come of bravelie, this is all.
Ha.
Well, sir,
You doe not meane, you say hee should endanger
My life or limbes; all you desire, if I
Mistake not, is to get your Nephew credit,
That being flesh'd, he may walke securelie, and be held
Valiant by gayning honor upon mee.
Bar.
You understand me right.
Ha.
I'le put it up,
Pray send your Nephew to me, weele agree.
Bar.
Agree, sir? you must quarrell, and he must beate you,
else, tis no bargaine.
Ha.
Not before
We have concluded how things shall bee carried.
Ba.
I must desire your secresie and—
Ha.
Heer's my hand.
Bar.
And ther's my monie.
Ha.
Your Nephew shall be a blade.
Ba.
Why ther's ten peeces more, cause you come off
So freely, i'le send him to you.
Ha.
Do so, why this, if the Dice favour me may bring all
My Lands agen, be sure you send him, but
No words for your Nephews credit.
Ba.
Mum—I thanke you heartilie.
Exit.
Ha.
Be there such things i'th World, i'le-first to the Taverne,
There I am staid for, gentlemen I come,
I'le be beate every day for such a summe.
Exit.
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