University of Virginia Library

Actus primus

Scena prima.

Enter Goldwire, and Tradewell.
Goldwire.
The Ship is safe in the Pool then?

Tradewell.
And makes good,
In her rich fraught, the name shee bears, the Speedwell:
My Master will find it, for on my certain knowledg
For every hundred that hee ventured in her
She hath return'd him five.

Goldwire.
And it comes timely,
For besides a paiment on the nail for a Mannor
I ate purchas'd by my Master, his young daughters
Are ripe for marriage.

Tradewell.
Who? Nan, and Mall.

Goldwire.
Mistris Anne and Mary, and with some addition,
Or 'tis more punishable in our house
Then Scandalum magnatum.

Tradewell.
'Tis great pitie
Such a Gentleman as my Master for that title
His being a Citizen, cannot take from him,
Hath no male heir to inherit his estate,
And keep his name alive.

Goldwire.
The want of one
Swells my young Mistresses, and their madam mother
With hopes above their birth, and scale. Their dreams are
Of being made Countesses, and they take state
As they were such already. When you went
To the Indies, there was some shape and proportion
Of a Merchants house in our family, but since
My Master, to gain precedencie for my Mistris
Above some Elder Merchants Wives, was knighted,
'Tis grown a little Court, in bravery,
Variety of fashions, and those rich ones:
There are few great Ladies going to a Masque
That do out-shine ours in their every-day habits.

Tradewell.
'Tis strange my Master in his wisdom can
Give the reins to such exorbitancie.

Goldwire.
He must,
Or there's no peace nor rest for him at home;
I grant his state will bear it, yet hee's censur'd
For his indulgence, and for Sir John Frugall
By some styl'd Sir John Prodigal.

Tradewell.
Is his brother
Mr. Luke Frugal living?

Goldwire.
Yes, the more
His misery, poor man.

Tradewell.
Still in the Counter?

Goldwire.
In a worser place. He was redeemed from the hole,
To live in our house in hell: since his base usage
Consider'd, 'tis no better. My proud Ladie
Admits him to her Table, marry ever
Beneath the Salt, and there he fits the subject
Of her contempt and scorn; and dinner ended,
His courteous Neeces find emploiment for him
Fitting an under-prentice, or a Footman,
And not an Uncle.

Tradewel.
I wonder, being a Scholler well read, and travel'd,
The world yielding means for men of such desert,
He should endure it.

Enter Star-gaze, Ladie, Anne, Mary, Millescent, in several postures, with looking-glasses at their girdles.
Goldwire.
He does, with a strange patience; and to us
The servants so familiar, nay humble.
I'le tell you, but I am cut off. Look these
Like a Citizens wife and daughters?

Tradewel.
In their habits
They appear other things; but what are the motives
Of this strange preparation?

Goldwire.
The young wag-tails
Expect their suitors. The first, the Son and Heir
Of the Lord Lacie, who needs my Masters money,
As his daughter does his honour. The second Mr. Plenty,
A rough hew'n gentleman, and newly come
To a great estate, and so all aids of Art
In them's excusable.

Lady.
You have done your parts here:
To your studie, and be curious in the search
Of the Nativities.

Exit Stargaze.
Tradewel.
Me thinks the mother,
As if she could renew her youth, in care,
Nay curiosity to appear lovely,
Comes not behind her daughters.

Goldwire.
Keeps the first place,
And though the Church-book speak her fifty, they
That say she can write thirty, more offend her,
Then if they tax'd her honesty: t'other day
A Tenant of hers, instructed in her humor,
But one she never saw, being brought before her,
For saying onely, Good young Mistris help me
To the speech of your Lady-mother, so far pleas'd her,
That he got his Lease renew'd for't.

Tradewell.
How she bristles:
Prethee observe her.

Millescent.
As I hope to see
A Country Knights son and heir walk bare before you
When you are a Countess, as you may be one
When my Master dies, or leavs trading; and I continuing
Your principal woman, take the upper-hand
Of a Squires wife, though a Justice, as I must
By the place you give me, you look now as young
As when you were married.

Lady.
I think I bear my years well.

Millescent.
Why should you talk of years? Time hath not plough'd
One furrow in your face; and were you not known
The mother of my young Ladies, you might passe
For a Virgin of fifteen.

Tradewell.
Here's no grosse flattery:
Will she swallow this?

Goldwire.
You see she does, and glibly.

Millescent.
You never can be old, wear but a Masque
Forty years hence, and you will still seem young
In your other parts: What a waste is here? O Venus!
That I had been born a King! and here a hand
To be kiss'd ever; Pardon my boldnesse, Madam:
Then, for a leg and foot you will be courted
When a great Grandmother.

Ladye.
These indeed, Wench, are not
So subject to decayings as the face,
Their Comliness last's longer.

Milliscent.
Ever, ever:
Such a rare Featur'd, and proportion'd Madam
London could never boast of.

Ladye.
Where are my Shoos.

Milliscent.
Those that your Ladyship gave order
Should be made of the Spanish Perfum'd Skins.

Ladye.
The same.

Milliscent.
I sent the prison-bird this morning for em,
But he neglects his duty.

Ann.
He is grown
Exceeding carelesse.

Mary.
And begins to murmur
At our commands, and sometimes grumbles to us,
He is forsooth our Uncle.

Ladye.
He is your slave,
And as such use him.

Ann.
Willingly, but hee's grown
Rebellious Madam.

Enter Luke, with Shooes, Garters and Roses.
Goldwire.
Nay like Hen, like Chicken.

Ladye.
I'le humble him.

Goldwire.
Here he comes sweating all over,
He shews like a walking fripperie.

Lady.
Very good Sir,
Were you drunk last night, that you could rise no sooner
With humble diligence to do what my Daughters,
And woman did command you.

Luke.
Drunk, an't please you.

Lady.
Drunk, I said, Sirrah. Dar'st thou in a look
Repine, or grumble? thou unthankful wretch,
Did our charitie redeem thee out of prison,
Thy Patrimonie spent, ragged, and lowsie.
When the Sheriffs basket, and his broken meat
Were your Festivall exceedings, and is this
So soon forgotten?

Luke.
I confesse I am
Your Creature Madam.

Lady.
And good reason why
You should continue so.

Ann.
Who did new cloath you?

Mary.
Admitted you to the Dining-room?

Milliscent.
Allowed you a fresh bed in the garret?

Lady.
Or from whom
Receiv'd you spending money?

Luke.
I owe all this
To your goodnesse, Madam: For it you have my prayers,
The beggars satisfaction; all my studies,
(Forgetting what I was, but withall duty
Remembring what I am) are how to please you.
And if in my long stay I have offended,
I ask your pardon. Though you may consider,
Being forc'd to fetch these from the Old Exchange,
These from the Tower, and these from Westminster,
I could not come much sooner.

Goldwire.
Here was a walke
To breath a Foot-man.

Ann.
'Tis a curious Fan.

Mary.
These Roses will shew rare; would t'were in fashion
That the Garters might be seen too.

Milliscent.
Many Ladyes
That know they have good legs, wish the same with you:
Men that way have th'advantage.

Luke.
I was with the Lady,
And delivered her the Sattin
For her Gown, and Velvet for her Petticote,
This night She vows Shee'l pay you.

Goldwire.
How I am bound
To your favour M. Luke.

Milliscent.
As I live, you will
perfume all rooms you walk in.

Lady.
Get your Furr,
You shall pull'em on within.

Goldwire.
That servile office
Exit Luke.
Her pride imposes on him.

Sr. John
within
Goldwire. Tradewell.

Tradewell.
My Master calls. Welcome Sir.

Exeunt Goldwire, Tradewell.
Enter Holdfast with Porters.
Lady.
What have you brought there?

Holdfast.
The Cream of the market, provision enough
To serve a garrison. I weep to think on't.
When my Master got his wealth, his family fed
On roots, and livers, and necks of beef on Sundays.
But now I fear it will be spent in poultry.
Butchers meat will not go down.

Lady.
Why, you Rascall, is it at
Your expence? what Cooks have you provided?

Holdfast.
The best of the City. They have wrought at my Lord Mayors.

Ann.
Fye on em, they smel of Fleet-Lane, and Pie-corner.

Mary.
And thinks the happinesse of mans life consists
In a mighty shoulder of mutton.

Lady.
I'le have none
Shall touch what I shall eat, you grumbling Curr,
But French-men and Italians; they wear Sattin,
And dish no meat but in Silver.

Holdfast.
You may want, though,
A dish or two when the service ends.

Lady.
Leave prating,
I'le have my will; do you as I command you.

Exeunt

Scena secunda.

Enter Lacie, and Page.
Lacie.
You were with Plenty?

Page.
Yes Sir.

Lacie.
And what answer
Return'd the clown?

Page.
Clown Sir! he is transform'd,
And grown a gallant of the last edition;
More rich then gaudie in his habit, yet
The freedom, and the bluntnesse of his language
Continues with him. When I told him that
You gave him Caution, as he lov'd the peace,
And safety of his life, he should forbear
To passe the Merchants threshold, untill you
Of his two Daughters had made choice of her
Whom you design'd to honour as your wife,
He smil'd in scorn.

Lacie.
In scorn?

Page.
His words confirm'd it,
They were few, but to this purpose; Tell your Master,
Though his Lordship in reversion were now his,
It cannot awe me. I was born a Free-man,
And will not yeeld in the way of affection
Precedence to him. I will visit em,
Though he sate Porter to deny my entrance.
When I meet him next I'le say more to his face.
Deliver thou this, then gave me a piece
To help my memorie, and so we parted.

Lacie.
Where got he this spirit.

Page.
At the Academie of valour,
Newly erected for the institution
Of elder Brothers. Where they are taught the ways,
Though they refuse to seal for a Duellist,
How to decline a challenge. He himself
Can best resolve you.

Enter Plenty and three Serving-men.
Lacie.
You Sir?

Plentie.
What with me Sir?
How big you look? I will not loose a hat
To a hairs breadth, move your Bever, I'le move mine,
Or if you desire to prove your sword, mine hangs
As near my right hand, and will as soon out, though I keep
Not a Fencer to breath me, walke into Moor-fields,
I dare look on your Toledo. Do not shew
A foolish valour in the streets, to make
Work for shop-keepers, and their clubs, 'tis scurvie,
And the women will laugh at us.

Lacie.
You presume
On the protection of your Hinds.

Plentie.
I scorn it:
Though I keep men I fight not with their fingers,
Nor make it my Religion to follow
The gallants fashion, to have my family
Consisting in a Foot-man, and a Page,
And those two sometimes hungrie. I can feed these,
And cloath'em too, my gay Sir.

Lacie.
What a fine man
Hath your Taylor made you?

Plentie.
'Tis quite contrary,
I have made my Taylor, for my cloaths are pai'd for
As soon as put on, a sin your man of title
Is seldom guiltie of, but Heaven forgive it.
I have other faults too very incident
To a plain Gentleman. I eat my Venison
With my neighbours in the Countrie, and present not
My phesants, partridges, and growse to the userer,
Nor ever yet paid brokage to his scrivener.
I flatter not my mercers wife, nor feast her
With the first cherries, or pescods, to prepare me
Credit with her husband, when I com to London.
The wooll of my sheep, or a score or two of fat oxen
In Smithfield, give me money for my expences.
I can make my wife a jointure of such lands too;
as are not encombred, no annuity
Or statue lying on 'em. This I can do
And it please your future honour, and why therefore
You should forbid my being a suiter with you
My dulnesse apprehends not.

Page.
This is bitter.

Lacie.
I have heard you Sir, and in my patience shewn
To much of the stoicks. But to parley further,
Or answer your grosse jeers would write me coward.
This onely thy great grandfather was a Butcher,
And his son a Grasier,
Thy Sire Constable of the hundred, and thou the first of your dunghill, created gemtleman
Now you may come on Sir,
you, and your thrashers.

Plentie.
Stir not on your lives.
This for the grasiers, this for the butcher.

they fight
Lacie.
So Sir.

Page.
I'le not stand idle, draw my little rapier
Against your bumb blades. I'le one, by one despatch you.
Then house this instrument of death, and horrour.

Enter Sir John, Luke, Goldwire, Tradewell.
Sr. John.
Beat down their weapons. My gate ruffians hall:
What insolence is this?

Luke.
Noble Sir Maurice,
Worshipfull Mr. Plenty.

Sr. John.
I blush for you,
Men of your qualitie expose your fame
To every vulgar censure. This at midnight
After a drunken supper in a Tavern,
(No civill man abroad to censure it)
Had shewen poor in you, but in the day, and view
Of all that pass by, monstrous

Plentie.
Very well Sir;
You look for this defence.

Lacie.
'Tis thy protection,
But it will deceive thee.

Sr. John.
Hold, if you proceed thus
I must make use of the next Justices power,
And leave perswasion. And in plain terms tell you
Enter Lady, Anne, Mary, and Milliscent.
Neither your birth, Sir Maurice, nor your wealth,
Shall priviledg this riot. See whom you have drawn
To be spectators of it? can you imagine
It can stand with the credit of my daughters,
To be the argument of your swords? 'ith street too?
Nay e're you do salute, or I give way,
To any private conference, shake hands
In sign of peace. He that draws back parts with
My good opinion. This is as it should be.
Make your approaches, and if their affection
Can sympathize with yours, they shall not come
On my credit beggars to you. I will hear
What you reply within.

Lacie.
May I have the honor
To support you Lady.

Plenty.
I know not what's supporting,
But by this fair hand, glove and all, I love you.

Exeunt omnes preter Luke.
To him Enter Hoyst, Penury, Fortune.
Luke.
You are come with all advantage. I will help you
To the speech of my Brother.

Fortune.
Have you mov'd him for us?

Luke.
With the best of my endeavours, and I hope.
You'l find him tractable.

Penury.
Heaven grant he prove so.

Hoyst.
Howe're I'le speak my mind.

Enter Lord Lacie.
Luke.
Do so M. Hoyst.
Go in. I'le pay my duty to this Lord,
And then I am wholly yours. Heaven bless your honor.

Lord.
Your hand Mr. Luke, the world's much chang'd with you
Within these few months; then you were the gallant:
No meeting at the Horse-race, Cocking, Hunting,
Shooting, or Bowling, at which Mr. Luke
Was not a principal gamester, and companion
For the Nobility.

Luke.
I have paid dear
For those follies, my good Lord, and 'tis but justice
That such as soar above their pitch, and will not
Be warn'd by my example, should like me
Share in the miseries that wait upon't.
Your Honor in your charitie may do well
Not to upbraid me with those weaknesses
Too late repented.

Lord.
I nor do, nor will;
And you shall find I'le lend a helping hand
To raise your fortunes: How deals your brother with you?

Luke.
Beyond my merit, I thank his goodnesse for't.
I am a Freeman, all my debts discharg'd,
Nor does one Creditor undone by me
Curse my loose riots. I have meat and cloaths,
Time to ask heaven remission for what's past;
Cares of the world by me are laid aside,
My present poverty's a blessing to me;
And though I have been long, I dare not say
I ever liv'd till now.

Lord.
You bear it well;
Yet as you wish I should receive for truth
What you deliver, with that truth acquaint me
With your brothers inclination. I have heard
In the acquisition of his wealth, he weighs not
Whose ruines he builds upon.

Luke.
In that report
Wrongs him, my Lord. He is a Citizen,
And would increase his heap, and will not lose
What the Law gives him. Such as are worldly wise
Pursue that tract, or they will ne're wear skarlet.
But if your Honor please to know his temper,
A Table, Count book, Standish, Chair and stools set out.
You are come opportunely. I can bring you
Where you unseen shall fee, and hear his carriage
Towards some poor men, whose making or undoing
Depend upon his pleasure.

Lord.
To my wish,
I know no object that could more content me.

Exeunt.

Scena tertia.

Enter Sir John, Hoyst, Fortune, Penurie, Goldwire.
Sir John.
What would you have me do? reach me a chair.
When I lent my moneys I appear'd an Angel;
But now I would call in mine own, a Divel.

Hoyst.
Were you the Divels damme, you must stay till I have it.
For as I am a Gentleman,

Enter Luke placing the Lord Lacie.
Luke.
There you may hear all.

Hoyst.
I pawn'd you my land for the tenth part of the value.
Now, cause I am a Gamester, and keep Ordinaries,
And a Liverie punk, or so, and trade not with
The money-mongers wives, not one will be bound for me:
'Tis a hard case, you must give me longer day
Or I shall grow very angry.

Sir John.
Fret, and spare not.
I know no obligation lies upon me
With my honey to feed Drones. But to the purpose,
How much owes Penurie?

Goldwire.
Two hundred pounds:
His Bond three times since forfeited.

Sir John.
Is it su'd?

Goldwire.
Yes Sir, and execution out against him

Sir John.
For bodie and goods.

Goldwire.
For both, Sir.

Sir John.
See it serv'd.

Penurie.
I am undone; my wife and family
Must starve for want of bread.

Sir John.
More Infidel thou
In not providing better to support 'em.
What's Fortunes debt?

Goldwire.
A thousand, Sir.

Sir John.
An estate
For a good man. You were the glorious Trader,
Embrac'd all bargains; the main venturer
In every Ship that launch'd forth; kept your wife
As a Ladie, she had her Coach, her choice
Of Summer-houses, built with other mens moneys
Took up at Interest, the certain road
To Ludgate in a Citizen. Pray you acquaint me
How were my thousand pounds imploy'd?

Fortune.
Insult not
On my calamity, though being a debtor,
And a slave to him that lends, I must endure it.
Yet hear me speak thus much in my defence;
Losses at sea, and those Sir, great, and many,
By storms, and tempests, not domestical riots
In soothing my wives humor, or mine own,
Have brought me to this low ebb.

Sir John.
Suppose this true;
What is't to me? I must, and will have my money,
Or l'le protest you first, and that done have
The Statute made for Bankrupts serv'd upon you.

Fortune.
'Tis in your power, but not in mine to shun it.

Luke.
Not as a brother, Sir, but with such dutie
As I should use unto my Father, since
Your charitie is my parent, give me leave
To speak my thoughts.

Sir John.
What would you say?

Luke.
No word, Sir,
I hope shall give offence; nor let it relish
Of flattery, though I proclaim aloud:
I glory in the bravery of your mind,
To which your wealths a servant. Not that riches
Is or should be contemn'd, it being a blessing
Deriv'd from heaven, and by your industry
Pull'd down upon you; but in this dear, Sir,
You have many equals: Such a mans possessions
Extend as far as yours, a second hath
His bags as full; a third in credit flies
As high in the popular voice: but the distinction
And noble difference by which you are
Divided from 'em, is, that you are styl'd
Gentle in your abundance, good in plentie,
And that you feel compassion in your bowels
Of others miseries (I have found it, Sir,
Heaven keep me thankful for't) while they are curs'd
As rigid and inexorable.

Sir John.
I delight not
To hear this spoke to my face.

Luke.
That shall not grieve you,
Your affability, and mildnesse cloath'd
In the garments of your debtors breath
Shall every where, though you strive to conceal it
Be seen, and wondred at, and in the act
With a prodigall hand rewarded. Whereas such
As are born only for themselvs, and live so,
Though prosperous in wordly understandings,
Are but like beasts of rapine, that by odds
Of strength, usurp, and tyrannize o're others
Brought under their subjection.

Lord.
A rare fellow!
I am strangely taken with him.

Luke.
Can you think Sir,
In your unquestion'd wisdome, I beseech you,
The goods of this poor man sold at an out-crie,
His wife turn'd out of doors, his children forc'd
To beg their bread: this gentleman's estate
By wrong extorted can advantage you?

Hoyst.
If it thrive with him hang me, as it will damn him
If he be not converted.

Luke.
You are too violent.
Or that the ruine of this once brave Merchant
(For such he was esteem'd though now decay'd)
Will raise your reputation with good men.
But you may urge, pray you pardon me, my zeal
Makes mee thus bold and vehement, in this
You satisfie your anger, and revenge
For being defeated. Suppose this, it will not
Repair your losse, and there was never yet
But shame, and scandall in a victorie
When the rebells unto reasons passions fought it.
Then for revenge by great souls it was ever
Contemn'd, though offered; entertain'd by none
But cowards, base, and abject spirits, strangers
To morall honestie, and never yet
Acquainted with religion.

Lord.
Our divines
Cannot speak more effectually.

Sir John.
Shall I be
Talk'd out of my money?

Luke.
No, Sir, but intreated
To do your self a benefit, and preserve
What you possesse intire.

Sir. John.
How my good brother?

Luke.
By making these your beads-men. When they eat,
Their thanks next heaven, will be paid to your mercy
When your Ships are at Sea, their prayers will swell
The Sails with prosperous winds, and guard'em from
Tempests, and pirates: keep your ware-houses
From fire, or quench'em with their tears.

Sir John.
No more.

Luke.
Write you a good man in the peoples hearts,
Follow you every where.

Sir John.
If this could be.

Luke.
It must or our devotions are but words,
I see a gentle promise in your eie,
Make it a blessed act, and poor, me rich
In being the instrument.

S. John.
You shall prevail.
Give'em longer day. But do you hear, no talk of't.
Should this arrive at twelve on the Exchange.
I shall be laught at for my foolish pity.
Which mony men hate deadly. Take your own time
But see you break not. Carrie'em to the Cellar,
Drink a health, aud thank your Orator.

Penurie.
On our knees Sir.

Fortune.
Honest M. Luke!

Hoyst.
I blesse the Counter where
You learn'd this Retorick.

Luke.
No more of that friends.

Exeunt Luke, Hoyst, Fortune, Penurie
S. John.
My honorable Lord

Lord.
I have seen and heard all,
Excuse my manners, and wish heartily
You were all of a peece. Your charity to your debtors
I do commend, but where you should expresse
Your pietie to the height, I must boldly tell you
You shew your self an Athiest.

Sir John.
Make me know
My error, and for what I am thus censur'd,
And I will purge my self, or else confesse
A guiltie cause.

Lord.
It is your harsh demeanour
To your poor brother.

S. John.
Is that all?

Lord.
'Tis more
Then can admit defence. You keep Hymas
A Parasite to your table, subject to
The scorn of your proud wife: an underling
To his own Neeces. And can I with mine honor
Mix my blood with his, that is not sensible
Of his brothers miseries?

S. John.
Pray you take me with you,
And let mee yeeld my reasons why I am
No opener handed to him. I was born
His elder brother, yet my fathers fondnesse
To him the younger robb'd me of my birth-right:
He had a fair estate, which his loose riots
Soon brought to nothing. Wants grew heavy on him
And when layd up for debt, of all forsaken,
And in his own hopes lost, I did redeem him,

Lord.
You could not do lesse.

S. John.
Was I bound to it my Lord?
What I possesse, I may with justice call
The harvest of my industry. Would you have me,
Neglecting mine own family, to give up
My estate to his disposure?

Lord.
I would have you,
What's pass'd forgot, to use him as a brother;
A brother of fair parts, of a clear soul,
Religious, good, and honest.

S. John.
Outward gloss
Often deceivs, may it not prove so in him,
And yet my long acquaintance with his nature
Renders me doubtful, but that shall not make
A breach between us: Let us in to dinner,
And what trust, or imployment you think fit
Shall be conferred upon him: If he prove
True gold in the touch, I'le be no mourner for it.

Lord.
If counterfeit, I'le never trust my judgment.

Exeunt.