 | The Puritan |  |
Actus Tertius.
Enter Simon Saint Mary-Overies, and Frailty.Frail.
Sirrah Simon Saint Mary-Overies, my Mistris
sends away all her suiters, and puts fleas in their eares.
Sim.
Frailty, she does like an honest, chast, and virtuous
woman; for Widows ought not to wallow in the
puddle of Iniquity.
Frail.
Yet, Simon, many Widows will do't, what so
ere comes on't.
Sim.
True, Frailty, their filthy flesh desires a Conjunction
Copulative; what strangers are within,
Frailty?
Frail.
There's none, Simon; but master Pilfer the Taylor:
he's above with Sir Godfrey, praising of a Doublet:
and I must trudge anon to fetch Master Suds the Barber.
Master Sud's a good man, he washes the sins of
the Beard clean.
Skir.
How now, creatures? what's a Clock?
Enter old Skirmish, the Soldiers.
Frail.
Why, doe you take us to be Jack at th'Clockhouse?
Skir.
I say again to you what's a Clock?
Sim.
Truly la, we go by the Clock of our Conscience,
all worldly Clocks we know go false, and are set by
drunken Sextons.
Skir.
Then what's a Clock in your Conscience?—oh,
I must break off, here comes the Corporall—hum, hum:
—what's a Clock?
Enter Corporall.
Corp.
A Clock? why past seventeen.
Frail.
Past seventeen? nay, h'as met with his match
now, Corporall Oath will fit him.
Skir.
Thou dost not bawke or baffle me, dost thou?
I am a Souldier—past seventeen.
Corp.
I, thou art not angry with the figures, art thou?
I will prove it unto thee, 12. and 1. is thirteen I hope,
2. fourteen, 3. fifteen, 4. sixteen, and 5. seventeen, then
past seventeen, I will take the Dialls part in a just cause.
Skir.
I say 'tis but past five then.
Corp.
I'le swear 'tis past seventeen then: dost thou
not know numbers? canst thou not cast?
Skir.
Cast? dost thou speak of my casting ith' street?
Draw.
Corp.
I, and in the Market place.
Sim.
Clubs, Clubs, Clubs.
Simon runs in.
Frail.
I, I knew by their shuffling Clubs would be
Trump; masse here's the Knave, and he can do any good
upon 'em: Clubs, Clubs, Clubs.
Enter Pye-boord.
Cap.
O Villain, thou hast open'd a vain in my Leg.
Pye.
How now? for shame, for shame, put up, put up.
Cap.
By yon blew Welkin, 'twas out of my part,
George, to be hurt on the Leg.
Enter Officers.
Pye.
Oh peace now—I have a Cordiall here to comfort
thee.
Offi.
Down with 'em, down with 'em, lay hands upon
the Villain.
Skir.
Lay hands on me?
Pye.
I'le not be seen among 'em now.
Cap.
I'me hurt, and had more need have Surgeons,
Lay hands upon me then, rough Officers.
Offi.
Go, carry him to be drest then:
This mutinous Soldier shall along with me to prison.
Skir.
To prison? where's George?
Offi.
Away with him.
Exeunt with Skir.
Pye.
So,
All lights as I would wish, the amaz'd Widow,
Will plant me strongly now in her belief,
And wonder at the virtue of my words:
For the event turns these presages from 'em,
Of being mad and dumb, and begets joy
Mingled with admiration: these empty creatures,
Souldier and Corporall, were but ordain'd
As instruments for me to work upon.
Now to my Patient, here's his Potion.
Exit Pye-boord.
Enter the Widow with her two Daughters.
Wid.
O wondrous happinesse, beyond our thoughts!
O luckky fair event! I think our fortunes
Were blest e'ne in our Cradles: we are quitted
Of all those shamefull violent presages
By this rash bleeding chance: go, Frailty, run, and know
Whether he be yet living, or yet dead,
That here before my door receiv'd his hurt.
Frail.
Madam, he was carried to the superiour, but if
he had no money when he came there, I warrant he's
dead by this time.
Franck.
Sure that man is a rare fortune-teller, never
lookt upon our hands, nor upon any mark about us, a
wondrous fellow surely.
Moll.
I am glad I have the use of my tongue yet,
though of nothing else, I shall find the way to marry too,
I hope shortly.
Wid.
O where's my Brother sir Godfrey, I would he
were here, that I might relate to him how prophetically
the cunning Gentleman spoke in all things.
Enter Sir Godfrey in a rage.
Sir God.
O my Chain, my Chain, I have lost my
Chain, where be these Villains, Varlets?
Wid.
Oh, h'as lost his Chain.
Sir God.
My Chain, my Chain.
Wid.
Brother, be patient, hear me speak, you know
I told you that a Cunning-man told me, that you should
have a losse, and he has prophecied so true.
Sir God.
Out, he's a Villain to prophecy of the losse
of my Chain, 'twas worth above three hundred Crowns,
besides 'twas my Fathers, my Fathers Fathers, my Grandfathers
huge Grandfathers: I had as lieve ha lost my
Neck, as the Chain that hung about it; O my Chain, my
Chain.
Wid.
Oh, Brother, who can be against a misfortune,
'tis happy 'twas no more.
Sir God.
No more! O goodly godly sister, would you
had me lost more? my best Gown too, with the Cloth
of Gold-Lace? my holyday Gascoins, and my Jerkin
set with Pearl? no more!
Wid.
Oh, Brother, you can read.—
Sir God.
But I cannot read where my Chain is: what
strangers have been here? you let in strangers, Thieves
and Catch-poles: how comes it gone? there was none above
with me but my Taylor, and my Taylor will not—
steale I hope?
Moll.
No, he's afraid of a Chain.
Enter Frailty.
Wid.
How now, sirrha? the newes?
Frail.
O, Mistresse, he may well be call'd a Corporall
now, for his Corps are as dead as a cold Capons?
Wid.
More happinesse.
Sir God.
Sirrha, what's this to my Chain? where's
my Chain, knave?
Frail.
Your Chain, sir?
Sir God.
My Chain is lost, Villain.
Frail.
I would he were hang'd in Chains that has it
then for me: Alass, sir, I saw none of your Chain since
you were hung with it your self.
Out varlet? it had full three thousand Lincks,
I have oft told it over at my prayers:
Over and over, full three thousand Lincks.
Frail.
Had it so, sir, sure it cannot be lost then; I'le
put you in that comfort.
Sir God.
Why? why?
Frail.
Why if your Chain had so many Lincks, it
cannot chuse but come to light.
Enter Nicholas.
Sir God.
Delusion. Now, long Nicholas, where is my
Chain.
Nich.
Why about your neck, is't not, sir?
Sir God.
About my neck, Varlet? my Chain is lost,
'Tis stoln away, I'me robb'd.
Wid.
Nay, Brother, show your self a man.
Nic.
If it be lost or stole, if he would be patient, Mistresse,
I could bring him to a Cunning Kinsman of mine
that would fetch it again with a Sesarara.
Sir God.
Canst thou? I will be patient, say, where
dwells he?
Nic.
Marry he dwells now, sir, where he would not
dwell and he could choose, in the Marshalsea, sir; but
he's an exlent fellow if he were out: h'as travell'd all the
world o're, he, and been in the seven and twenty Provinces:
why he would make it be fetcht, sir, if it were rid a
thousand mile out of town.
Sir God.
An admirable fellow, what lies he for;
Nic.
Why he did but rob a Steward of ten groats
tother night, as any man would ha done, and there he
lies for't.
Sir God.
I'le make his peace, a trifle, I'le get his pardon,
Besides a bountifull reward, I'le about it,
But see the Clerks, the Justice will do much;
I will about it straight, good sister pardon me,
All will be well I hope, and turn to good,
The name of Conjurer has laid my blood.
Exeunt.
Enter Puttock and Ravenshaw two Serjeants, with Yeoman Dogson, to arrest the Scholler George Pye-boord.
Put.
His Hostesse where he lies will trust him no
longer, she hath feed me to arrest him; if you will accompany
me, because I know not of what nature the
Schollar is, whether desperate or swift, you shall share
with me, Serjeant Raven-shaw, I have the good Angel to
arrest him.
Raven.
Troth I'le take part with thee then, Serjeant,
not for the sake of the money so much, as for the hate I
bear to a Schollar: why, Serjeant, 'tis naturall in us
you know to hate Schollars: naturall besides, they will
publish our imperfections, knaveries, and Conveyances
upon Scaffolds and Stages.
Put.
I, and spightfully too; troth I have wondred
how the slaves could see into our breasts so much, when
our Doublets are button'd with Pewter.
Raven.
I, and so close without yielding: oh, their
parlous fellowes, they will search more with their wits,
than a Constable with all his Officers.
Put.
Whist, whist, whist, Yeoman Dogson, Yeoman
Dogson.
Dog.
Ha? what sayes Serjeant?
Put.
Is he in the Pothecaries shop still,
Dog.
I, I.
Put.
Have an eye, have an eye.
Raven.
The best is, Serjeant, if he be a true Schollar
he weares no weapon I think.
Put.
No, no, he weares no weapon.
Raven.
Masse, I am right glad of that: 'thas put me
in better heart; nay if I clutch him once, let me alone
to drag him if he be stiff-necked; I have been one of
the six my self, that has dragg'd as tall men of their hands,
when their weapons have bin gone, as ever bastinado'd
a Serjeant—I have done I can tell you.
Dog.
Serjeant Puttock, Serjeant Puttock.
Put.
Hoh.
Dog.
He's comming out single.
Put.
Peace, peace, be not too greedy, let him play a
little, let him play a little, we'll jerk him up of a sudden,
I ha fisht in my time.
Raven.
I, and caught many a fool, Serjeant.
Enter Pye-boord.
Pye.
I parted now from Nicholas: the Chain's couch't,
And the old Knight has spent his rage upon't,
The Widow holds me in great admiration
For cunning Art: 'mongst joyes I'me e'ne lost,
For my device can no way now be crost,
And now I must to prison to the Captain, and there—
Put.
I arrest you, sir.
Pye.
Oh—I spoke truer then I was aware, I must to
prison indeed.
Put.
They say you're a Schollar, nay sir—Yeoman
Dogson, have care to his armes—you'll raile again Serjeants,
and stage 'em: you tickle their vices.
Pye.
Nay, use me like a Gentleman, I'me little lesse.
Put.
You a Gentleman? that's a good jest ifaith;
can a Schollar be a Gentleman,—when a Gentleman
will not be a Schollar;—look upon your wealthy Citizens
Sons, whether they be Schollars or no, that are Gentlemen
by their Fathers Trades: a Schollar a Gentleman!
Pye.
Nay, let Fortune drive all her stings into me,
she cannot hurt that in me, a Gentleman, Accidens inseparabile
to my blood.
Raven.
A rablement, nay you shall have a bloody
rablement upon you I warrant you.
Put.
Go, Yeoman Dogson, before, and enter the Action
ith' Counter.
Pye.
Pray doe not handle me cruelly, I'le go
Whether you please to have me.
Put.
Oh, he's tame, let him loose Serjeant.
Pye.
Pray at whose Suit is this?
Put.
Why, at your Hostesses Suit where you lie, Mistresse
Cunniburrow, for bed and board, the summe four
pound five shillings and five pence.
Pye.
I know the summe too true, yet I presum'd
Upon a farther day; well, 'tis my starres:
And I must bear it now, though never harder.
I swear now, my device is crost indeed.
Captain must lie by't: this is Deceits seed.
Put.
Come, come away.
Pye.
Pray give me so much time as to knit my garter,
and I'le away with you.
Put.
Well, we must be paid for this waiting upon you,
this is no pains to attend thus.
Making to tie his Garter.
Pye.
I am now wretched and miserable, I shall ne're
recover of this disease: hot Iron gnaw their fists: they
have struck a Fever into my shoulder, which I shall ne're
shake out again I fear me, till with a true Habeas Corpus
the Sexton remove me, oh if I take prison once, I shall be
perhaps I may be forty year a pressing till I be a thin old
man, that looking through the grates, men may look
through me; all my means is confounded, what shall I
do? has my wit served me so long, and now give me the
slip (like a train'd servant) when I have most need of
'em: no device to keep my poor carcase from these Puttocks?
—yes, happinesse, have I a paper about me now?
yes too, I'le try it, it may hit, Extremity is Touch-stone
unto wit, I, I.
Put.
'Sfoot how many yards are in thy Garters, that
thou art so lo long a tying on them? come away sir.
Pye.
Troth Serjeant I protest; you could never ha
took me at a worse time, for now at this instant, I have
no lawfull picture about me.
Put.
'Slid how shall we come by our fees then.
Rav.
We must have fees, sirra.
Pye.
I could have wisht ifaith, that you had took me
halfe an hour hence for your own sake, for I protest if
you had not crost me, I was going in great joy to receive
five pound of a Gentleman, for the Device of a Mask
here, drawn in this paper but now, come, I must be contented,
'tis but so much lost, and answerable to the rest of
my fortunes.
Put.
Why how far hence dwells that Gentleman?
Rav.
I, well said Serjeant, 'tis good to cast about for
mony.
Put.
Speak, if it be not far—
Pye.
We are but a little past it, the next streeet behind us.
Put.
'Slid we have waited upon you grievously already,
if you'll say you'll be liberal when you ha't, give us double
fees, and spend upon's, why we'll show you that kindness,
and go along with you to the Gentleman.
Rav.
I, well said still Serjeant, urge that.
Pye.
Troth if it will suffice, it shall all be among you,
for my part I'le not pocket a penny, my Hostess shall
have her four pound five shillings, and bate me the five
pence, and the other fifteen shillings I'le spend upon you.
Ravinish.
Why now thou art a good Schollar.
Put.
An excellent Schollar ifaith; has proceeded very
well alate; come, we'll along with you.
Exeunt with him, passing in they knock at the door with a knocker withinside.
Ser.
Who knocks, whose at door? we had need of a
Porter.
Pye.
A few friends here.—pray is the Gentleman
your Master within?
Ser.
Yes, is your business to him?
Pye.
I, he knows it, when he sees me:
I pray you, have you forgot me.
Ser.
I by my troth, sir, pray come near, I'le in and
tell him of you, please you to walk here in the Gallery till
he comes.
Pye.
We will attend his worship,—worship I think,
for so much the posts at his door should signifie, and the
fair coming in, and the wicket, else I neither knew him
nor his worship, but 'tis happiness he is within doors,
what so'ere he be, if he be not too much a formal Citizen,
he may do me good: Serjeant and Yeoman, how do you
like this house, is't not most wholsomely plotted?
Rav.
Troth prisoner, an exceeding fine house.
Pye.
Yet I wonder how he should forget me, for he
ne're knew me: No matter, what is forgot in you, will be
remembred in your Master.
You have no such roomes in prison now?
Put.
Oh dog-holes to't.
Pye.
Dog-holes indeed—I can tell you I have great
hope to have my Chamber here shortly, nay and dyet
too, for he's the most free-hearted'st Gentleman where he
takes: you would little think it? and what a fine Gallery
were here for me to walk and study, and make verses.
Put.
O it stands pleasantly for a Schollar.
Enter Gentleman.
Pye.
Look what maps, and pictures, and devices, and
things, neatly, delicately? Masse here he comes, he should
be a Gentleman, I like his Beard well;—All happinesse
to your worship.
Gent.
You're kindly welcome, sir.
Put.
A simple salutation.
Rav.
Masse it seems the Gentleman makes great account
of him.
Gent.
I have the thing here for you, sir.
Pye.
I beseech you, conceal me sir, I'm undone else,—
I have the Mask here for you sir, Look you sir,—I beseech
your worship, first pardon my rudenesse, for my
extreams makes me boulder then I would be; I am a poor
Gentleman and a Schollar, and now most unfortunately
falne into the hands of unmercifull Officers, arrested for
debt, which though small, I am not able to compasse, by
reason I'm destitute of lands, mony, and friends, so that
if I fall into the hungry swallow of the prison, I am like
utterly to perish, and with fees and extortions be pincht
clean to the bone: Now, if ever pitty had interest in the
bloud of a Gentleman, I beseech you vouchsafe but to
favour that means of my escape, which I have already
thought upon.
Gent.
Go forward.
Put.
I warrant he likes it rarely.
Pye.
In the plunge of my extremities, being giddy,
and doubtfull what to do; at last it was put in my labouring
thoughts, to make a happy use of this paper, and to
blear their unlettered eyes, I told them there was a Device
for a Mask drawn in't, and that (but for their interception,)
I was going to a Gentleman to receive my reward
for't: they greedy at this word, and hoping to make purchase
of me, offered their attendance, to go along with
me, my hap was to make bold with your door, sir, which
my thoughts shew'd me the most fairest and comfortablest
entrance, and I hope I have happened right upon understanding,
and pitty: may it please your good worship
then, but to uphold my Device, which is to let one of your
men put me out at a back door, and I shall be bound to
your worship for ever.
Gent.
By my troth, an excellent Device.
Put.
An excellent Device he sayes; he likes it wonderfully.
Gent.
A my faith, I never heard a better.
Raven.
Hark, he swears he never heard a better,
Serjeant.
Put.
O there's no talk on't, he's an excellent Schollar,
and especially for a Mask.
Gent.
Give me your Paper, your Device; I was never
better pleas'd in all my life: good wit, brave wit, finely
wrought, come in sir, and receive your mony, sir.
Pye.
I'le follow your good Worship,—
You heard how he like't it now?
Put.
Puh, we know he could not choose but like it:
go thy wayes, thou art a fine witty fellow ifaith, thou
shalt discourse it to us at the Tavern anon, wilt thou?
I, I, that I will,—look Serjeants, here are Maps,
and pretty toyes, be doing in the mean time, I shall quickly
have told out the money, you know.
Put.
Go, go, little villain, fetch thy chinck, I begin
to love thee, I'le be drunk to night in thy company.
Pye.
This Gentleman I may well call a part
Of my salvation, in these earthly evils,
For he has sav'd me from three hungry Devils.
Exit George.
Put.
Sirrah Serjeant, these Maps are pretty painted
things, but I could nere fancie them yet, me thinks they're
too busie, and full of Circles and Conjurations; they say
all the World's in one of them, but I could nere find the
Counter in the Poultry.
Rav.
I think so: how could you find it? for you know
it stands behind the houses.
Dog.
Mass that's true, then we must look oth'backside
for't: sfoot here's nothing, all's bare.
Rav.
I warrant thee that stands for the Counter, for
you know there's a company of bare fellows there.
Put.
Faith like enough, Serjeant, I never markt so
much before. Sirrah Serjeant, and Yeoman, I should
love these Maps out a cry now, if we could see men peep
out of door in 'em, oh we might have'em in a morning to
our Break-fast so finely, and nere knock our heels to the
ground a whole day for 'em.
Rav.
I marry sir, I'de buy one my self.
But this talk is by the way, where shall's sup to night:
Five pound receiv'd, let's talk of that.
I have a trick worth all, you two shall bear him toth'Tavern,
whilst I go close with his Hostess, and work out of
her, I know she would be glad of the summe, to finger
money; because shee knows 'tis but a desperate debt, and
full of hazard: what will you say if I bring it to pass, that
the Hostess shall be contented with one half for all, and
we to share tother fifty shillings, Bullies.
Put.
Why I would call thee King of Serjeants, and
thou should'st be Chronicled in the Counter-Book for
ever.
Ra.
Well, put it to me, we'll make a Night on't ifaith.
Dog.
Sfoot, I think he receives more money, he stayes
so long.
Put.
He tarries long indeed, may be, I can tell you,
upon the good liking on't the Gentleman may prove
more bountifull.
Rav.
That would be rare, we'll search him.
Put.
Nay be sure of it, we'll search him, and make
him light enough.
Enter the Gentleman.
Ra.
Oh here comes the Gentleman, by your leave, Sir.
Gen.
God you god den sirs,—would you speak with me?
Put.
No, not with your worship, sir; only we are bold
to stay for a friend of ours, that went in with your worship.
Gen.
Who? not the Schollar?
Put.
Yes, e'en he, an it please your worship.
Gen.
Did he make you stay for him? he did you wrong
then: why, I can assure you he's gon above an hour ago.
Rav.
How, Sir?
Gen.
I paid him his money, and my man told me he
went out at back-door.
Put.
Back-door?
Gen.
Why, what's the matter?
Put.
He was our prisoner, sir, we did arrest him.
Gen.
What he was not? you the Sheriff's Officers—
you were too blame then,
I could have kept him for you, I protest,
He receiv'd all of me in Britain Gold,
Of the last coyning.
Ra.
Vengeance dog him with't.
Put.
Sfoot has he gull'd us so?
Dog.
Where shall we sup now, Serjeants?
Put.
Sup Simon, now, eat Porridge for a month.
Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of good will in
your Worship,—you did but as another would have
done, 'twas our hard fortunes to miss the purchase, but
if e'er we clutch him again, the Counter shall charm him.
Ra.
The Hole shall rot him.
Dog.
Amen.
Exeunt.
Gent.
So,
Vex out your Lungs without doors, I am proud,
It was my hap to help him, it fell fit,
He went not empty neither for his wit:
Alas poor wretch, I could not blame his brain,
To labour his delivery, to be free,
From their unpittying fangs,—I'me glad it stood,
Within my power to do a Scholar good.
Exit.
Enter in the Prison, meeting George and Captain, George coming in muffled.
Cap.
How now, who's that? what are you?
Pye.
The same that I should be, Captain.
Cap.
George Pye-board, honest George? why cam'st
thou in half-fac'd, muffled so?
Pye.
Oh Captain, I thought we should nere ha laught
agen, never spent frolick hour agen.
Cap.
Why? why?
Pye.
I coming to prepare thee, and with news
As happy as thy quick delivery,
Was trac'd out by the sent, arrested, Captain.
Cap.
Arrested, George?
Pye.
Arrested; guess, guess, how many Dogs do you
think I'de upon me?
Cap.
Dogs? I say, I know not.
Pye.
Almost as many as George Stone the Bear:
Three at once, three at once.
Cap.
How did'st thou shake'em off then?
Pye.
The time is busie, and calls upon our wits, let it suffice,
Here I stand safe, and scap't by miracle:
Some other hour shall tell thee, when we'll steep
Our eyes in laughter: Captain, my device
Leans to thy happiness, for ere the day
Be spent toth' Girdle, thou shalt be free:
The Corporal's in's first sleep, the Chain is mist,
Thy Kinsman has exprest thee, and the old Knight
With Palsey-hams now labours thy release.
What rests, is all in thee, to Conjure, Captain?
Cap.
Conjure? sfoot, George, you know, the Devil a
conjuring I can conjure.
Pye.
The Devil of conjuring? nay by my fay, I'de not
have thee do so much, Captain, as the Devil a conjuring:
look here, I ha brought thee a Circle ready charactered
and all.
Ca.
Sfoot, George, art in thy right wits, dost know what
thou sayst? why dost talk to a Captain a conjuring? didst
thou ever hear of a Captain conjure in thy life? dost call't
a Circle? 'tis too wide a thing, me thinks; had it been
a lesser Circle, then I knew what to have done.
Why every fool knowes that Captain: nay then
I'le not cog with you, Captain, if you'll stay and hang
the next Sessions you may.
Cap.
No, by my faith, George, come, come, let's to
conjuring.
Pye.
But if you look to be released, as my wits have
took pain to work it, and all means wrought to farther it,
besides to put Crowns in your purse, to make you a man
of better hopes, and whereas before you were a Captain
or poor Souldier, to make you now a Commander of rich
fooles, (which is truly the onely best purchase peace can
allow you) safer then High-wayes, Heath, or Cony-groves,
and yet a far better booty; for your greatest thieves are
never hang'd, never hang'd; for why? they're wise, and
cheat within doores; and we geld fooles of more money
in one night, then your false-tail'd Gelding will purchase
in a twelve-moneths running, which confirmes the old
Bedlams saying, he's wisest, that keeps himself warmest,
that is, he that robs by a good fire.
Capt.
Well opened ifaith, George, thou hast pull'd
that saying out of the husk.
Pye.
Captain Idle, 'Tis no time now to delude or delay,
the old Knight will be here suddenly, I'le perfect
you, direct you, tell you the trick on't: 'tis nothing.
Capt.
'Sfoot, George, I know not what to say to't,
conjure? I shall be hang'd ere I conjure.
Pye.
Nay, tell not me of that, Captain, you'll ne're
conjure after you're hang'd, I warrant you, look you, sir,
a parlous matter, sure, first to spread your circle upon the
ground, then with a little conjuring ceremony, as I'le
have an Hackney-mans wand silver'd o're a purpose for
you, then arriving in the circle, with a huge word, and a
great trample, as for instance: have you never seen a stalking,
stamping Player, that will raise a tempest with his
tongue, and thunder with his heeles?
Cap.
O yes, yes, yes; often, often.
Pye.
Why be like such a one? for any thing will blear
the old Knights eyes: for you must note, that he'll ne're
dare to venture into the room, onely perhaps peep fearfully
through the Key-hole, to see how the Play goes forward.
Capt.
Well, I may go about it when I will, but mark
the end on't, I shall but shame my self ifaith, George,
speak big words, and stamp and stare, and he look in at
Key-hole, why the very thought of that would make me
laugh out-right, and spoile all: nay I'le tell thee, George,
when I apprehend a thing once, I am of such a laxative
laughter, that if the Devil himself stood by, I should
laugh in his face.
Pye.
Puh, that's but the babe of a man, and may easily
be husht, as to think upon some disaster, some sad misfortune,
as the death of thy Father ith' Countrey.
Cap.
'Sfoot, that would be the more to drive me into
such an extasie, that I should ne.re lin laughing.
Pye.
Why then think upon going to hanging else.
Cap.
Masse that's well remembred, now I'le doe well,
I warrant thee, ne're fear me now: but how shall I doe,
George, for boysterous words, and horrible names?
Pye.
Puh, any fustian invocations, Captain, will serve
as well as the best, so you rant them out well, or you may
go to a Pothecaries shop, and take all the words from the
Boxes.
Cap.
Troth, and your say true, George, there's strange
words enow to raise a hundred Quack-salvers, though
they be ne're so poor when they begin? but here lies the
fear on't, how in this false conjuration, a true Devil
should pop up indeed.
Pye.
A true Devil, Captain? why there was ne're such
a one, nay faith he that has this place, is as false a Knave
as our last Church-warden.
Cap.
Then h'as false enough a conscience ifaith, George.
The Cry at Marshalsea.
Cry prisoners.
Good Gentlemen over the way, send
your relief:
Pye.
He's come, he's come.
Nich.
Master, that's my Kinsman yonder in the Buff-Jerkin
—Kinsman, that's my Master yonder ith' Taffaty
Hat—pray salute him intirely?
They salute: and Pye-boord salutes Master Edmond.
Sir God.
Now my friend.
Pye.
May I partake your name, sir?
Edm.
My name is Master Edmond.
Pye.
Master Edmond,—are you not a Welsh-man, sir?
Edm.
A Welsh-man? why?
Pye.
Because Master is your Christen name, and Edmond
your sir-name.
Edm.
O no: I have more names at home, Master
Edmond Plus is my full name at length.
Pye.
O cry you mercy sir?
Whispering.
Cap.
I understand that you are my Kinsmans good
Master, and in regard of that, the best of my skill is at
your service: but had you fortun'd a meer stranger, and
made no meanes to me by acquaintance, I should have
utterly denyed to have been the man; both by reason of
the Act of Parliament against Cojurers and Witches,
as also, because I would not have my Art vulgar, trite,
and common.
Sir God.
I much commend your care there, good
Captain Conjurer, and that I will be sure to have it private
enough, you shall do't in my Sisters house,—mine
own house I may call it, for both our charges therein are
proportion'd.
Capt.
Very good, sir,—what may I call your losse, sir?
Sir God.
O you may call't a great losse, a grievous
losse, sir, as goodly a Chain of Gold, though I say it, that
wore it: how sayest thou, Nicholas?
Nich.
O 'twas as delicious a Chain a Gold, Kinsman
you know,—
Sir God.
You know? did you know't, Captain?
Cap.
Trust a fool with secrets?—Sir he may say I
know: his meaning is, because my Art is such, that by it
I may gather a knowledge of all things.—
Sir God.
I very true.
Capt.
A pax of all fooles—the excuse stuck upon my
tongue like Ship-pitch uoon a Mariners Gown, not to
come off in haste—ber-lady, Knight, to lose such a fair
Chain a Gold, were a foule losse: Well, I can put you in
this good comfort on't, if it be between heaven and earth,
Knight, I'le ha't for you?
Sir God.
A wonderfull Conjurer,—O I, 'tis between
heaven and earth I warrant you, it cannot go out of the
Realm,—I know 'tis somewhere about the earth.
Cap.
I, nigher the earth then thou wot'st on.
Sir God.
For first my Chain was rich, and no rich
thing shall enter into heaven, you know.
Nich.
And as for the Devil, Master, he has no need
on't, for you know he has a great Chain of his own.
Thou say'st true, Nicholas, but he has put
off that now, that lyes by him.
Cap.
Faith Knight, in few words, I presume so much
upon the power of my Art, that I could warrant your
Chain agen.
Sir Godf.
O dainty Captain!
Cap.
Marry it will cost me much sweat, I were better
go to sixteen Hot-houses.
Sir Godf.
I, good man, I warrant thee.
Cap.
Beside great vexation of Kidney and Liver.
Nic.
O, 'twill tickle you hereabouts, Cousin, because
you have not been us'd to't.
Sir Godf.
No? have you not been us'd to't, Captain?
Cap.
Plague of all fools still;—indeed Knight I have
not us'd it a good while, and therefore 'twill strain me so
much the more, you know.
Sir Godf.
Oh it will, it will.
Cap.
What plunges he puts me to? were not this
Knight a fool, I had been twice spoil'd now; that Captain's
worse then accurst that has an Asse to a Kinsman,
sfoot I fear he will drivel't out before I come to't.—Now
sir,—to come to the point indeed,—you see I stick here
in the jaw of the Marshalsea, and cannot do't.
Sir Godf.
Tut tut, I know thy meaning, thou wouldst
say thou'rt a prisoner, I tell thee th'art none.
Cap.
How, none? why is not this the Marshalsea?
Sir Godf.
Woult hear me speak? I heard of thy rare
Conjuring:
As thou shalt do the like at home for me:
Keeper.
Enter Keeper.
Keep.
Sir.
Sir Godf.
Speak, is not this man free?
Keep.
Yes, at his pleasure, Sir, the Fees discharg'd.
Sir Godf.
Go, go, I'le discharge them, I.
Keep.
I thank your Worship.
Cap.
Now, trust me, y'are a dear Knight; kindnesse
unexpected! oh there's nothing to a free Gentleman.—I
will Conjure for you, sir, 'till Froth come through my
Buffe-Jerkin.
Sir Godf.
Nay, then thou shalt not passe with so little
a bounty, for at the first sight of my Chain agen,—
Fourty five Angels shall appear unto thee.
Cap.
'Twill be a glorious show, ifaith Knight, a very
fine show; but are all these of your own house? are you
sure of that, Sir?
Sir Godf.
I, I, no, no; what's he yonder talking with
my wild Nephew, pray heaven he give him good counsel.
Cap.
Who, he? he's a rare friend of mine, an admirable
fellow, Knight, the finest Fortune-teller.
Sir Godf.
Oh! 'tis he indeed, that came to my Lady
sister, and foretold the losse of my Chain; I am not angry
with him now, for I see 'twas my Fortune to lose it:
By your leave, Mr. Fortune-teller, I had a glimps of you
at home, at my Sisters the Widows, there you prophesied
of the loss of a Chain:—simply though I stand here,
I was he that lost it.
Pye.
Was it you, sir?
Edm.
A my troth, Nuncle, he's the rarest fellow, has
told me my fortune so right; I find it so right to my nature.
Sir Godf.
What is't? God send it a good one.
Edm.
O, 'tis a passing good one, Nuncle: for he sayes
I shall prove such an excellent Gamester in my time, that
I shall spend all faster then my Father got it.
Sir Godf.
There's a Fortune indeed.
Edm.
Nay, it hits my humour so pat.
Sir Godf.
I, that will be the end on't: will the Curse
of the Beggar prevail so much, that the son shall consume
that foolishly, which the father got craftily; I, I, I;
'twill, 'twill, 'twill.
Pye.
Stay, stay, stay.
Pye-board with an Almanack, and the Captain.
Cap.
Turn over, George.
Pye.
June, July; here, July, thats the month, Sunday
thirteen, yesterday fourteen, to day fifteen.
Cap.
Look quickly for the fifteen day,—if within the
compasse of these two dayes there would be some Boystrous
storm or other, it would be the best, I'de defer him
off till then; some Tempest, and it be thy will.
Pye.
Here's the fifteen day,—Hot and fair.
Cap.
Puh, would t'ad been, Hot and foul.
Pye.
The sixteen day, that's to morrow; The morning
for the most part, fair and pleasant.
Cap.
No luck.
Pye.
But about high-noon, Lightning and thunder.
Cap.
Lightning and thunder? admirable! best of all!
I'le Conjure to morrow just at high-noon, George.
Pye.
Happen but true to morrow, Almanack, and I'le
give the leave to lye all the year after.
Cap.
Sir, I must crave your patience, to bestow this
day upon me, that I may furnish my self strongly,—I sent
a Spirit into Lancashire tother day, to fetch back a knave
Drover, and I look for his return this evening—to morrow
morning, my friend here, and I will come and breakfast
with you.
Sir Godf.
Oh, you shall be most welcome.
Cap.
And about noon, without fail, I purpose to Conjure.
Sir Godf.
Mid-noon will be a fit time for you.
Edm.
Conjuring? do you mean to Conjure at our
house, to morrow, Sir?
Cap.
Marry do I, sir? 'tis my intent, young Gentleman.
Edm.
By my troth, I'le love you while I live for't: ô
rare! Nicholas, we shall have Conjuring to morrow.
Nic.
Puh I, I could ha told you of that.
Cap.
Law, he could ha told him of that, fool, coxcomb,
could ye?
Edm.
Do you hear me, sir, I desire more acquaintance
on you, you shall earn some money of me, now I know
you can Conjure; but can you fetch any that is lost?
Cap.
Oh, anything that's lost.
Edm.
Why look you, sir, I tell't you as a friend and a
Conjurer; I should marry a Pothecaries Daughter, and
'twas told me, she lost her Maiden-head at Stonie-Stratford:
now if you'll do but so much as Conjure for't, and
make all whole agen—
Cap.
That I will, Sir.
Edm.
By my troth I thank you, la.
Cap.
A little merry with your sisters son, sir.
Sir Godf.
Oh, a simple young man, very simple, come
Captain, and you, sir; we'll e'en part with a gallon of
wine 'till to morrow break-fast.
Tip. Cap.
Troth, agreed, sir.
Nic.
Kinsman—Scholar.
Pye.
Why now thou art a good Knave, worth a hundred
Brownists.
Nic.
Am I indeed, la: I thank you heartily, la.
Exeunt.
| The Puritan | |