 | The Gamester |  |
Act. III.
Enter Master Wilding, and Penelope.Wi.
This humour does become thee, I knew when
Thou didst consider, what was offerd thee;
Thy sullennes wood shake off, now thou look'st
Fresher then morning, in thy melancholie
Thy clothes became thee not.
Pene.
Y'are i'th right,
I blam'd my Tailor for't, but I finde now,
The fault was in my countenance, wo'd we had
Some Musicke, I could dance now, la, la, la, bra, &c,
Wi.
Excellent! and shee be a bed but halfe so nimble,
I shall have a fine time on't; how she glides?
Thou wot not faile?
Pen.
This night—
Wi.
At the houre of twelue.
Pene.
But you must be as punctuall ith conditions
For my vowes sake, not speake a syllable.
Wi.
I'le rather cut my tongue out then offend thee,
Kissing is no language.
Pene.
If it be not to loude;
We must not be seene together, to avoide
Should know on't.
Wi.
Shee shall die in ignorance.
Pene.
No peece of a Candle.
Wi.
The Divell shall not see us
With his sawcer eyes; and if he stumble in
The darke, there shanot be a stone ith Chamber,
To strike out fire with's hornes; all things shall be
So close; no lightning shall peepe in upon us,
Oh, how I long for mid-night!
Pene.
I have a scruple.
Wi.
Oh, by no meanes, no scruples now.
Pene.
When you
Have your desires upon me, you will soone
Crow cold in your affection, and neglect me.
Wi.
Why hang me if I doe, i'le love thee ever:
I have cast already, to preserve thy honor,
Thou shalt be married in a fortnight, cooze,
Let me alone to finde thee out a husband,
Handsome and fit enough, we will love then too.
Pene.
When I am married?
Wi.
Without feare or wit
Cum privilegio, when thou hast a husband,
Dost thinke I will forsake thee Pen? 'twere pity
A my life, sweete, oh there is no pleasure
To those embraces; I shall love thee better,
And the assurance that thou hast two fathers
Before thou hast a child, will make thee spring
More active in my armes, and I tell thee,
Tis my ambition to make a Cuckold,
The onely pleasure o'th World: I wod not
Wish to injoy thee now, but in the hope
Of tother harvest, and to make thy husband
Hereafter cuckold, that imagination
Sweetnes the rest, and I do love it mainely, mainely.
Pene.
Tis double sinne.
Wi.
Tis treble pleasure wench;
But we loose time, and may endanger thus
My wife into a jealozie, if shee see us,
I wonot loose my sport for halfe the countrie.
Exit.
Enter Mistris Wilding.
Mi. Wi.
Thou hast hit my instructions excellently.
Pene.
I have made worke for some bodie, you have put me
Upon a desperate service, if you do not
Releeve me, I am finely served.
Mi.
All has succeeded to my wish, thy place
I will supply to night, if he observe
All the conditions, I may deceive
My husband into kindnes; and we both
Live to reward thee better, oh, deere cooze!
Take heede by my example, upon whom
Thou placest thy affection.
Enter Hazard.
Pene.
Master Hazard.
Ha.
Save mistresse Wilding.
Mi. Wi.
You are welcome, sir.
Pene.
He is a handsome gentleman.
Ha.
Gone abroad?
Mi.
I am not certaine, i'le inquire.
Ha.
Your servant
Ha! this is the frostie gentlewoman, in good time,
I care not if I cast away some words on her,
And yet shees so precise, and over honest,
I had as good nere atempt her, your name is
Penelope, I take it Lady.
Pene.
If you take it,
I hope you'le give it me agen.
Ha.
What agen?
Pene.
My name.
Ha.
What should I doe wot?
No, no, keepe thy name,
How ere thou dost thy maiden-head.
Pene.
Can you tell me
Of any honest man that I maie trust with it?
Ha.
I'le tell thee a hundred.
Pene.
Take heede what you saie, sir.
A hundred honest men, why if there were
So many i'th City, 'twere enough to forfeit
Ha.
This wench will jeere me.
Pene.
I hope you are not one, sir.
Ha,
One of what?
Pene.
One of those honest men you talk'd of so,
One to whose trust, a Virgin might commit
A maiden-head, as you call it.
Ha.
Yes, you may trust me,
I have possest a hundred maiden-heads.
Pene.
How long?
Ha.
Nay, nay; they are no commodities to keepe,
Noe fault of ours: truth is, th'are not worth
Preserving some of your owne Sex acknowledge it,
And yet by your complexion, you have yours still,
Away with't, and in time.
Pene.
Why you are modest.
Ha.
Y'ave hit me Lady: come, i'le give thee counsell;
And more, i'le helpe thee to a chap-man too,
Besides what ere he paies for't, shall be at charge
To mold it of himselfe; how light thou 'lt be
Without thy maiden-head, dost not spoile thy sleepe
And breede the night-mare?
Pene.
Who can helpe it, you
Gentlemen are such strange creatures, so unnaturall,
So infinitilie chast, so mortified
With Beefe and Barly-water, such strange discipline,
And Haire-cloth.
Ha.
Who weares Haire-cloth? gentlewoman?
Pene.
Such severe waies to tame your flesh, such friends
To fry-dayes, Lent, and Ember-weekes; such enemies
To Sacke, and marrow-Pies, Candles, and Crabs,
Fidlers, and other warme restoratives,
A handsome woman can not reach your pity,
We may e'en grow to our Pillowes, ere you'le comfort us;
This was not went.
Ha.
Not wont to be, in my
Remembrance Ladie.
Pene.
You are a handsome gentleman
Why may not you drinke Wine sometimes, or eate
Of Aartichoke, or Potato; or why may not
Your learned Physition Dictate amber-Greece,
Or Powders, and yon obey him, in your Brothes?
Have you so strange antipathy to women?
To what end will gentlemen
Come to, if this frost hold?
Ha.
You are wittie;
But I suppose you have no cause of such
Complaint, how ever some men do want heat,
Their is no generall winter; I know a gentleman
Can drinke, and eate, and beare you companie
A bed, for all your jeering: do not thinke
Tis I: thou shall recant this prophane talke
And wooe me for a kisse, ere i'le stoope to thee.
Heres none but friends, if Master wilding ha not
Told you alreadie, I will justifie
Tis possible, you may be got with Child.
Pene.
By whom?
Ha.
By him, you are but cozens a farre off,
If you allow't, he neede not travell farre
For other dispensation, what say to him?
Pene.
Was this at his entreatie?
Ha.
My owne meere motion
And good will toward him, cause I know his minde.
Pene.
You are a fine gentleman, wher's your land?
You may be Knight o'th Shire in time: farrewell, sir.
Ha.
I know not what to make on her, she may be
Exit.
A tumbler, for all this, i'le to her agen.
Exit.
Enter old Barnacle, and Leonora.
Ba.
Nay, nay, be comforted, and mistake me not,
I did not mention Delamore to provoke
These teares: hee's gone, thinke on your living friends.
Leo.
If you be one, good sir—
Ba.
Yes, I am one:
And yet mistake me not, I doe not come
Awooing for my selfe, I am past Tilting,
But for my Nephew, oh that Nephew of mine!
I know Sr. Richard Hurry, your wise father,
Nay, nay, weeping still.
Leo.
It is too soone to thinke of any other.
Bar.
To soone to thinke of any other, why,
What woman of discretion, but is furnish'd
With a second husband ere the first be coffend?
He that stayes till the Funerall be past,
Is held a modest coxcombe, and why should not
Maides be as early in their provision?
Leo.
I blush to thinke, my father of his mind,
Distressed Leonora good. sir loose
No more breath, I am resolved to die a Virgin
I know not what love is.
And yet these teares
Are shed for one you lov'd.
Leo.
He that was all
My treasure living, beeing lost must needs
Be a great part of sorrow: but my eyes
Though they can never paie to many drops
To the sad memory of Delamore,
Shed not all these for him, there is another
That makes me weepe.
Bar.
Another whom you love?
Leo.
Heaven knowes I never let into my heart,
Affection to a second, I am so farre
From loving him, I wish we may nere meete,
I am not safe in my owne bosome, while
I thinke upon him, it begets new springs
Within my eyes; which will in litle time,
Rise to a flood, and drowne me.
Bar.
I conceive
This is no friend of yours, come i'le releeve you,
Nay, and there be any man that troubles you,
If there be any you'd have talk'd withall,
I'le rid you of that care, he that shall offer
But to disturbe you in a thought, d'ee marke me?
I'le take an order with him.
Leo.
What will you doe?
Bar.
Do not mistake me neither, i'le do nothing,
And top him, and scourge him like a top too.
You know not how my Nephew is improv'd
Since you last saw him, valiant as Hercules,
He has knock'd the flower of Chivalry, the verie
Donzal del Phebo of the time. and all
The blades do reverence him; i'le say no more,
Name but the man whom you do frowne upon,
And let me send my Nephew to him.
Leo.
Shanot neede.
I have no enemie to engage his sword,
My discontents flow from a neerer person,
I grieve to say my father.
Bar.
How? your father
Say but the word and I will send my Nephew
To him, and he were ten fathers he can mollifie him,
To please you Lady, my Nephew never spare him,
Oh, had you seene him baffle a squire this morning!
Leo.
Pray no more, you shall do me a noble office.
To leave me to my selfe.
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Mistresse Violante
Is come to visit you.
Leo.
I waite upon her,
Your gentle pardon.
Exit.
Ba.
Would my Nephew had her.
Shee is Sr. Richards heire, and here he is.
Sr. Richard?
Enter Sr. Richard Hurry, and Surgeon.
Hu.
Oh Master Barnacle, i'le waite upon you.
Bar.
That's Master Probe the Surgeon.
Hu.
No more you know my meaning.
Pr.
Yes, sir.
Hu.
Let him be buried.
Pr.
I understand you, sir.
Exit.
Bar.
I have beene discoursing
With your faire daughter.
Hu.
Where is Leonora?
Ser.
Shee's within, sir.
Hu.
Bid her come hither,
Bar.
And I am glad I met with you:
If you be troubled with any gentleman,
I'le send my Nephew to him.
Hu.
To whom, or whither?
Bar.
To any man alive, I care not whether.
Hu.
Send him to Jerusalem.
Bar.
That's something o'th furthest, I shall be.
Unwilling he should travell out o'th Kingdome.
Enter Leonora, Violante aloofe.
Hu.
Leonera? Neerer—
Ba.
Who is that?
A prettie gentlewoman! save you mistresse,
What is your name I pray?
Vio.
I am cal'd Violante.
Bar.
Are you a maide?
Vio.
I should be sorrie else.
Bar.
D'ee know my Nephew?
Vio.
Not I, sir.
Bar.
Not my Nephew? how have you beene bred?
Why hee's the onley gallant o'th Towne,
Please you i'le send him to you.
Vio.
What to doe, sir.
Ba.
He shall do any thing, the townes afraid on him.
Vio,
Oh! praie keepe him from me then.
Bar.
Hee'le hurt no women, but for the men—
Vio.
Ther's one has hurt to much alreadie.
Bar.
What is he? i'le send my Nephew to him Lady,
If you have any occasion, never spare him.
Vio.
Not I, sir.
Hu.
Looke to't, and correct this humor.
I'le to him presentlie, Master Barnacle,
Let me intreat your companie to a gentleman,
I'le waite as much on you.
Bar.
You shall command mee:
If't be to any man you care not for,
Wee'le take my Nephew along.
Exeunt.
Hu.
It sha not neede,
Leo.
Oh Violante! I
Vio.
You hold me not suspected.
Leo.
Leonora
Cannot be so ingratefull: but we have
Small limit for discourse, my father meanes
To visit Beaumont, now in Prison, thou
Wilt heare too soone the storie, and without
Prevention finde thy selfe more miserable.
Oh Violante: I will suffer with him
Rather then injure thee, I prethee go
Uisit thy friend, not mine, and as thou lou'st mee,
As thou lou'st him, or thy owne life, Violante,
Bid him be constant to thee, tell him what fame
Dwells upon noble lovers, that have seal'd
Faith to their Mistresses in blood: what glorie
Can perjur'd men expect, that loose their honor
To save a poore breath? bid him be assur'd,
If for the hope of life, his soule can be
So much corrupted to embrace a thought
That I shall ever love him—
Vio.
You Leonora?
Leo.
Never, oh, never; tell him so: by vertue,
And the cold blood of my slaine Delamore,
Although my father threaten death.
Vio.
Your father?
Leo.
Make hast sweete Violante, to the Prison;
There thou shalt know all, there thou shalt have proofe
How much thou art belov'd, and by my death,
If he prove false to thee, how much I love thee.
Exit.
Vio.
I am amaz'd, and my soule much distracted
Twixt griefe, and wonder, it growes late i'th morning,
I le visit the sad Prisoner, my hart trembles,
More can but kill me too, I'm, fit to die,
And woes but hasten immortality.
Exit.
Enter Hazard, and a Box-keeper.
Ha.
How now? what Gamesters?
Bo.
Little to any purpose yet, but we
Expect deepe play to night.
Enter Wilding.
Will Hazard, I have beene seeking thee this
Two howers, and now I have found thee, avoide me.
Ha.
Thar't not infectious.
Wi.
No, but I swell with my imaginations
Like a tall Ship, bound for the fortunate Ilands;
Top, and Top-gallant, my flags, and my figaries
Upon me with a lustie gale of winde
Able to rend my sailes, I shall o'rerunne,
And sinke thy little Barke of understanding
In my careere boy.
Ha.
Pray heaven rather
You do not spring a leake, and forfit your
Ballast, my confident man of Warre, I
Have knowne as stout a Ship beene cast away
In sight o'th Harbour.
Wi.
The wench, the wench boy.
Ha.
The Vessell you have beene chasing.
Wi.
Has strooke Saile,
Is come in, and cries abord my new Lord of
The Mediterranean, we are agree'd,
This is the pretious night Will; twelve the hower,
That I must take possession of all,
Of all; there are some Articles agreed on.
Enter a Lord, and Sell-away.
Whoe's this?
Ha.
Oh! the Gamesters now come in:
That gaie man is a Lord, and with him Sell-away.
Wi.
They are well coupled, a Lord and Sell-away.
Ha.
He weares good clothes you see, and in the street
More look'd at then the Pageants, he will talke litle.
Wi.
To purpose.
Ha.
Right, he cannot walke
Out of his sincopace, and no man carries
Legs more in tune, he is danc'd now from his sempstresse.
Wi.
A man much bound to his Tailor.
Ha.
And his Barber.
He has a notable head.
Wi.
Of haire thou mean'st.
Ha.
Which is sometime hung in more Bride-laces
Then well would furnish out two Country weddings
Is he a Scholler?
Ha.
Tis not necessary.
He is neither Scholler, nor a Courtier,
If report wrong him not.
Wi. VVill.
He playes mony freely.
Ha.
With more pride then he weares embrodery.
Tis his ambition to loose that: and
A wench mainetaines his swearing, let him passe.
VVi.
What's next.
Enter a Knight, and Acre-lesse.
Ha.
A Knight, and Acre-lesse.
VVi.
Good agen, a Knight and Acre-lesse, what's his condition.
VVi.
A Gamester both waies.
VVi.
Where be his Spurres?
Ha.
Hang in his mistresses Peticote, for which hee pawnd
His Knight-hood too, till a good hand redeeme it,
He will talke you nothing but postilions
Embroideries for his Coach, and Flanders Mares:
What severall sutes for the twelue dayes at Christmas,
How many Ladies dote upon his physnomy:
That hee is limited but a hundred pound
A month for diet, which will scarce maintaine him
In Phesant egges an Turky for his motion.
Now does his Barge attend him, if he came
By water, but if the Dice chance to runne counter,
He stayes till twelue in anger, devours smoke,
And desperately will shoot the Bridge at midnight
Without a waterman.
VVi.
The house fills a pace
What are these ha?
Enter a Countrie gentleman, and Little-stocke.
Ha.
A Countrie gentleman, and Little-stocke.
VVi.
A Countrie gentleman? I have seene him sure
Appeare in other shape, is he a Christian?
Ha.
Why? dost thou doubt him?
Wi.
Cause I have met him with a Turbant once,
If I mistake not, but his linnen was not
So handsome altogether as the Turkes
Walking and canting broken Dutch for farthings.
Ha.
The apparition of an Angell once
Brought him to this.
Wi.
Dost call him countrie gentleman?
Ha.
His generation is not knowne i'th Towne,
You see what Dice can do, now hee's admir'd.
Wi.
For what I prethee?
Ha.
For talking non-sense, when he has lost his mony
You shall meete him going up and downe the ordinary
To borrow monie upon his head.
Wi.
His head,
Will he goe upon his head, or will he pawne it?
Ha.
Pawne it, if any man will lend him mony on't,
And sayes 'tis good securitie, because
He cannot be long without it, they shall have
The wit for the use too, he will talke desperate lie,
And sweare he is the father of all the Bulls
Since Adam, if all faile he has a project
To print his jests.
Wi.
His Bulls you meane,
Ha.
Y'are right,
And dedicate 'em to the Gamesters, yet he will
Seeme wise sometimes, deliver his opinions
As on the Bench: in beere he utters sentences,
And after Sacke Philosophy.
Wi.
Let's not be troubl'd with him, who are these?
Yong Barnacle?
Enter Nephew, and Dwindle.
Will you indure him.
Ha.
Yes, and the Vineger-bottle his man too: but now I thinke
on't he shall excuse me, i'le loose no time; if I winne, I shall
have lesse cause to repent, if I loose, by these hilts i'le make
him the cause and beate him.
Are they at play?
Sel.
Deepe, deepe Gamesters.
Ha.
Then luke with a hundred peeces.
Wi.
I'le follow, how now Franke? what in the name of folly
Ne.
Save you gentlemen, save you noble gallants:
May a man loose any monie? I honor, sir, your shadow.
Sel.
This is another humor.
Ne.
D'ee here the newes gentlemen?
Wi.
What newes I pray?
Ne.
The new Curranto.
Sel.
Good, sir, impart.
Ne.
Be there no more gentlemen to heare it
Here? 'tis extraordinarie fine newes, in blacke and white,
From Terra incognita.
Wi.
Terra incognita?
Ne.
I, sir, the quintessence of the World: for our foure parts
Europe, Asia, Affricke, and America, are as the foure
Elements, and this, as the learned Geographers say, is
Like Cœlum, a fift essence or quintessence, of the World.
Wi.
Pray, Sir, what newes from this quintessence, it must
Needs be refin'd novelties.
Ne.
From Slavonia.
Wi.
That's no part of Terra incognita, we know that.
Ni.
But you doe not know that Slavonia I meane, 'tis
Inhabited by a Nation without a head.
Dwi.
Without a head in? what part are their eyes?
Ne.
Peace Dwîndle: a cursed kinde of people that have
Neither Law, nor Religion but for their owne purposes:
Their Country is somewhat low, and open to the Sea.
Sel.
Do they not feare drowning?
Ne.
They are safest in a tempest, if they be taken at any time
by their enemies, and cast over-bord, they turne other creatures,
some Rocks, some Sharkes, some Crocadiles, and so retaine part
of their former nature.
Wi.
What do those that dwell ashore?
Ne.
They follow their worke, and make nets not only to catch
Fish, but Townes and Provinces: the Jewes
Are innocent to 'em, and the Divell a dunce, of whose
Trade they are.
Sel.
A dangerous generation.
Ne.
In Perwiggana a fruitfull Country, the moone shines
All day, and the Sunne at night.
That's strange,
hee has a morall in't have not wee gentlemen that sit up all
night a drinking, and go to bed when the sunne rises?
Ne.
In this Province the King never comes out of his Palace.
VVi.
How does the Court remove there?
Ne.
When he does purpose to change the aire, hee has an
Elephant richly trapped, that carries the Court upon his backe
into what part of the Kingdome he please.
VVi.
I have heard of Elephants, that have carried Castles.
Ne.
Snailes, Snailes in comparison: and to increase your wonder!
this beast does never drinke.
VVi.
I would be loth to keepe him companie.
Sel.
How then?
Ne.
Eate, eate altogether, and what nothing but men, and
of what ranke or condition, none but great men, and the fattest
nobillitie, but like your good Mounsieur hee cares for nothing
but the head, and it is confidently reported hee has
devoured more heads, within this three last yeeres, then the
Elephant wee had in England; eate Pennie Loves in seaven.
Dwi.
The Divell choke him would hee had London Bridge
in his bellie too.
Ne.
The subjects of the great Duke of Lubber-land ha's beene
lately in rebellion.
Wi.
I am sorry it will be inconvenient to heare out your Curranto,
I am weary of a little monie when that's lost I may
bee a sutor for the rest of your newes, and so I commend mee
to all your friends in Lubber-Land.
Exit.
Ne.
Dwîndle, didst heare this, now could I be angry.
Dwi.
Goe to play then, sir, if you loose your monie, you may
talke roundly to 'em for they cannot bee so uncivill as not to
give loosers leave to speake.
Ne.
But if I winne.
Dwi.
Why then you may be drunke to night and i'le—the
Caster to you.
Enter Little-stocke, Acre-lesse.
Lit.
A curse upon these reeling Dice, that last in, and in
Monie, how have the cards dealt with thee.
Acr.
Lost, lost—I defie thee, if my Knight recover not
I must be sober to morrow.
Lit.
Oh, for a hundred and all made now.
Enter Sell-away.
Sel.
Yonders—winnes tirannically, without
Mercie, he came in but with a hundred peeces.
Lit.
I'le get a fancy presently.
Acr.
And how thrive the bones with his Lordship
Sel.
His Lordships bones are not well set they are maliciously
bent against him they will runne him quite out of all.
Enter Nephew, and Dwindle.
Ne.
More mony Dwindle call my Uncle: I must have it, for
my honor, two hundred peeces more Will serve my turne;
in the meane time I will play away my Cloke and some superfluous
things about me.
Dwi.
By that time you are come to your shirt, I shall bee
here.
Sel.
Hee's blowne up too.
Exit.
Enter Hazard.
Ha.
So, so, the Dice in two or three such nights will be out of
my debt, and I may live to be a land-lord agen.
Sel.
You are fortunes minion Master.
Ha.
You wod seeme to be no foole, because she dotes not
Upon you gentlemen, I must take my chance; 'twas
A lucky hundred pown'd Jacke Wilding.
Enter Wilding gnawing a Boxe.
What eating the Boxes.
Acr.
Let us in agen.
Wi.
Chewing thy cud a litle, I have lost all my monie Will
Thou hast made a fortunate night on't, wot
Play no more.
Ha.
Tis the first time I had the grace to give off a winner
I wonot tempt the Dice.
Wi.
What hast wonne?
Ha.
You doe not heare mee complaine
I have not been so warme
Enter Acre-lesse.
Wi.
Tis frost in my breeches.
Acr.
Master Hazard, I was afraid you had beene gone, there's
a fresh Gamester come in with his pockets full of Gold; he
dazeles the Gamesters, and no man has stocke to play with
him.
Wi.
What is he?
Acr.
A Merchant he seemes; he may be worth your retire.
Ha.
Not for the Exchange to night, I am resolv'd.
Wi.
Temptation! now have I an infinite itch to this Merchants
peeces.
Ha.
If thou wot have any monie,
Speake before I launch out, and command it.
Wi.
A hundred peeces.
Ha.
Call to the Master o'th house by this token-thou wot
venture agen then?
Wi.
They may prove as luckie as thine—but what do I forget?
the wench, the fairy at home, that expects me.
Ha.
I had forgot too, you wonot play now.
Wi.
Tis now upon the time.
Ha.
By any meanes goe.
Wi.
Hum, I ha lost my monie, and may recover a prety wench.
which hand? here covetousnes, this letchery; monie is the heavier.
Will, dost heare? i'le requite thy curtesie. Thou hast lent
me a hundred pownd, i'le pay thee agen, and thou shat have
for the use, the flesh device at home that expects, thou shat supply
my place Will.
Ha.
You wonot loose this opportunitie, and foole your
selfe.
Exit. Acre.
Wi.
I am resolv'd; five hundred peeces say i'le come to him,
you love the sport as well as I: to morrow you shall thanke me
for't; be secret, shee'le never know thee, for our conditions
are to—Neither light nor—and she must needs conceive
tis I.
Ha.
Are you in earnest?
Wi.
Have you wit to apprehend the curtesie?
Let me alone: the wench, and I shall meete
Hereafter and be merry, here's my Key
And keepe conditions touse her at thy pleasure,
There will be enough for me: nay no demurres,
You have not lost your stomacke to this game
How ere I speed tonight, wee'le laugh to morrow
How the poore wench was cosen'd.
Ha.
But wouldst ha mee goe?
Wi.
I wod ha thee ride boy, I must to the Gamester
Farewell, remember not to speake a word, but
Kisse and embrace thy belly full.
Ha.
If I do not,
The punishment of an Eunuch light upon me.
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