 | The Lady of Pleasvre |  |
The first Act.
Enter Aretina and her Steward.Stew.
Be patient Madam, you may have your pleasure.
Are.
Tis that I came to towne for, I wo'd not
Endure againe the countrey conversation,
To be the Lady of sixe shires ! the men
So neare the Primitive making, they retaine
A sence of nothing but the earth, their braines
And barren heads standing so much in want
Of plowing as their ground, to heare a fellow
Make himselfe merry and his horse with whisteling
Sellingers round, to observe with what solemnitie
They keepe their Wakes, and throw for pewter Candlestickes,
How they become the Morris, whith whose bells
They ring all into Whitson Ales, and sweate,
Through twenty Scarffes and Napkins, till the Hobbyhorse
Tire, and the maide Marrian dissolv'd to a gelly,
Be kept for spoone meate.
Ste.
These with your pardon are no Argument
To make the country life appeare so hatefull,
At least to your particular, who enjoy'd
A blessing in that calme; would you be pleasd
To thinke so, and the pleasure of a kingdome,
While your owne will commanded what should move
Delights, your husbands love and power joyned
To give your life more harmony, you liv'd there,
Secure, and innocent, beloved of all,
Praisd for your hospitality, and praid for,
Not where you dwelt, I wo'd not prophecy
But leave to your owne apprehension
What may succeede your change.
Are.
You doe imagine,
No doubt, you have talk'd wisely, and confuted,
London past all defence, your Master should
Doe well to send you backe into the countrie,
With title of Supernitendent Baylie.
Ste.
How Madam.
Are.
Even so sir.
Ste.
I am a Gentleman though now your servant.
Are.
A country gentleman,
By your affection to converse with stuble,
His tenants will advance your wit, and plumpe it so
With beefe and bag-pudding.
Ste.
You may say your pleasure,
It becomes not me dispute.
Are.
Complaine to the Lord of the soyle your master.
Ste.
Y'are a woman of an ungovern'd passion, and I pitty you.
Enter Sir Thomas Bornwell.
Bor.
How how? Whats the matter?
Ste.
Nothing Sir.
Bor.
Angry sweete heart?
Are.
I am angry with my selfe,
To be so miserably restrained in things,
Wherein it doth concerne your love and honour
To see me satisfied.
Bor.
In what Aretina?
Dost thou accuse me? have I not obey'd
All thy desires, against mine owne opinion,
Quitted the countrie, and removed the hope
Of our returne, by sale of that faire Lordship
We liv'd in, chang'd a calme and retire life
For this wild towne, composd of noise and charge.
Are.
What charge more than is necessarie,
For a Lady of my birth and education?
Bor.
I am not ignorant, how much Nobilitie
It'h State, but with this lose not your memory
Of being my wife, I shall be studious
Madam to give the dignitie of your birth
All the best ornaments which become my fortune
But would not flatter it, to ruine both,
And be the fable of the towne, to teach
Other men losse of wit by mine, emploid
To serve your vaste expences.
Are.
Am I then
Brought in the ballance? so Sir.
Bo.
Though you weigh
Me in a partiall scale my heart is honest,
And must take libertie to thinke you have
Obeyed no modest counsell to effect,
Nay study wayes of pride and costly ceremony,
Your change of gaudy furniture and pictures,
Of this Italian Master, and that Dutchmans,
Your mighty looking-glasse like Artillery;
Brought whom on Engins the superfluous plate,
Anticke and novell, vanities of tires,
Fourescore pound suppers for my Lord your kinsman,
Banquets for tother Lady, aunt, and cozens,
And perfumes that exceede all traine of servants,
To stifle us at home and shew abroad
More motley than the French, or the Venetian,
About your coach whose rude Postillion
Must pester every narrow lane, till passengers
And tradsmen curse your choaking up their stalls;
And common cries pursue your Ladiship,
For hindring o'their market.
Are.
Have you done sir.
Bor.
I could accuse the gayetie of your wardrobe,
And prodigall embroderies under which
Rich Sattens, Plushes, cloath of Silver, dare
Not shew their owne complexions, your jewells
Able to burne out the Spectators eyes,
And shew like Bonefires on you by the tapers,
Something might here be spar'd, which safely of
Your birth and honour, since the truest wealth,
Shines from the soule, and drawes up just admirers,
Are.
Pray doe I like
Your homilie of thrifte.
Bo.
I could wish Madam
You would not game so much.
Are.
A gamster too?
Bor.
But are not come to that repentance yet,
Should teach you skill enough to raise your profit,
You looke not through the subtiltie of Cards,
And mysteries of Dice, nor can you save
Charge with the boxe, buy petticotes and purles,
And keepe your familie by the precious income,
Nor doe I wish you should, my poorest servant
Shall not upbraid my tables, nor his hire
Purchasd beneath my honour, you make play
Not a Pastime but a tyrannie, and vexe
Your selfe and my estate by't.
Are.
Good, proceed.
Bor.
Another game you have, which consumes more
Your fame than purse, your revells in the night,
Your meetings cal'd the Ball, to which appeare,
As to the Court of Pleasure, all your gallants,
And Ladies thither bound by a Subpena
Of Venus, and small Cupids high displeasure,
Tis but the family of love translated
Into more costly sinne, there was a play on't,
And had the Poet not beene brib'd to a modest
Expression of your Anticke gambolls in't,
Some darkes had beene discovered, and the deeds too,
In time he may repent and make some blush,
To see the second part danc'd on the Stage;
My thoughts acquit you for dishonouring me
By any foule act, but the vertuous know,
Tis not enough to cleare our selves, but the
Suspitions of our shame.
Are.
Have you concluded
Your lecture?
Bor.
I ha done, and howsoever
My language my appeare to you, it carries
No other than my faire and just intent
To your delights without curbe to their modest,
And noble freedome.
Are.
Ile not be so tedious,
In my reply, but without arte or elegance,
Assure you I keepe still my first opinion,
With hansome names of modesty, and thrift,
I finde you would intrench and wound the liberty
I was borne with, were my desires unpriviledged
By example, while my judgement thought 'em fit,
You ought not to oppose, but when the practise
And tract of every honourable Lady,
Authorise me, I take it great injustice,
To have my pleasures circumscribed, and taught me,
A narrow minded husband is a theefe
To his owne fame, and his preferment too,
He shuts his parts and fortunes from the world,
While from the popular vote and knowledge men
Rise to imployment in the state.
Bor.
I have
No great ambition to buy preferment
At so deare rate.
Are.
Nor I to sell my honour,
By living poore and sparingly, I was not
Bred in that ebbe of fortune, and my fate
Shall not compell me too't.
Bor.
I know not Madam,
But you pursue these wayes.
Are.
What wayes?
Bor.
In the strict sence of honestie I dare
Make oath, they are Innocent.
Are.
Do not divert,
By busie troubling of your braine, those thoughts
That should preserve em.
Bor.
How was that?
Are.
Tis English.
Bor.
But carries some unkinde sence.
Enter Madam Decoy.
De.
Good morrow my sweete Madam.
Are.
Decoy welcome, this visite is a favour.
De.
Alas sweet Madam, I cannot stay, I came
But to present my service to your Ladiship;
I could not passe by your doore, but I must take
The boldnesse to tender my respects.
Are.
You oblige me Madam, but I must
Not dispence so with your absence.
De.
Alas, the Coach Madam stayes for me at the doore.
Are.
Thou sha't command mine, prethee sweete Decoy.
De.
I wou'd waite on you Madam, but I have many
Are.
So you will promise to dine with me.
De.
I shall
Present a guest.
Are.
Why then good morrow Madam.
De.
A happy day shine on your Ladiship.
Exit.
Enter Steward.
Are.
Whats your newes sir?
St.
Madam two gentlemen.
Are.
What gentlemen? Have they no names.
St.
They are
The gentleman with his owne head of haire,
Whom you commended for his horsemanship
In Hide Parke, and becomming the saddle
The tother day.
Are.
What circumstance is this,
To know him by.
St.
His names at my tongues end,
He lik'd the fashion of your pearle chaine Madam,
And borrowed it for his Jeweller to take
A coppie by it.
Bor.
What cheating gallants this?
St.
That never walkes without a Ladies buske,
And playes with fannes Mr. Alexander Kickshaw,
I thought I should remember him.
Are.
Whats the other?
St.
What an unluckie memorie I have?
The gallant that still danceth in the streete,
And weares a grosse of Ribbon in his hat,
That carries Oringado in his pocket,
And Suger-plumbs to sweeten his discourse,
That studies complement, defies all wit
On blacke, and censures playes that are not bawdy,
Mr. Iohn littleworth.
Are.
They are welcome, but
Pray entertaine them a small time, lest I
Be unprovided.
Bor.
Did they aske for me?
Ste.
No sir.
Bor.
It matters not, they must be welcome.
Are.
Fie, how's this haire disordered? here's a curle,
Straddle most impiously, I must to my closet.
Exit.
Bor.
Waite on em my Lady will returne agen,
I have to such a height fulfill d her humor,
All applications dangerous, these gallants
Must be received or shee will fall into
Atempest, and the house be shooke with names
Of all her kindred, tis a servitude,
I may in time shake off.
Al. Lit.
Save you Sir Thomas.
Bor.
Save you gentlemen.
Al.
I kisse your hand.
Bor.
What day is it abroad?
Lit.
The morning rises from your Ladies eye,
If she looke cleare, we take the happy omen
Of a faire day.
Bo.
Sheele instantly appeare,
To the discredit of your complement,
But you expresse your wit thus.
Al.
And you modestie,
Nor to affect the praises of your owne.
Bor.
Leaving this subject, what games now on foote?
What exercise carries the generall vote?
Oth'towne now nothing moves without your knowledge,
Al.
The cocking now has all the noise, Ile have
A hundred peeces of one battle, Oh,
These birds of Mars!
Lit.
Venus is Mars his bird too.
Al.
Why and the pretty Doves are Venusses,
To show that kisses draw the Charriot.
Lit.
I am for that skirmish.
Bor.
When shall wee have
More Booths and Bag-pipes upon Bansted downes,
No mighty race is expected, but my Lady returnes.
Enter Aretina.
Are.
Faire morning to you gentlemen,
You went not late to bed by your early visit,
You doe me honour.
Al.
It becomes our service.
Are.
What newes abroade? you hold precious intelligence.
Lit.
All tongues are so much busie with your praise,
They have not time to frame other discourse,
Will please you Madam? tast a Sugerplum,
Bor.
What do's the Goldsmith thinke the Pearle is worth,
You borrowed of my Lady?
Al.
Tis a rich one,
Bor.
She has many other toyes whose fashion you,
Will like extremely, you have no intention
To buy any of her Iewels.
Al.
Vnderstand me.
Bor.
You had rather sell perhaps, but leaving this,
I hope you'le dine with us.
Al.
I came a purpose.
And where were you last night?
Al.
I Madam? where
I slept not, it had beene sin where so much
Delight and beauty was to keepe me waking,
There is a Lady Madam will be worth
Your free societie, my conversation
Nere knew so elegant and brave a soule,
With most incomparable flesh and bloud,
So spirited, so Courtly speakes the Languages,
Sings, Dances, playes o'th Lute to admiration,
Is faire and paints not, games too, keepes a table,
And talkes most witty Satyre, has a wit
Of a cleane Mercury.
Lit.
Is shee married?
Al.
No.
Are.
A Virgin?
Al.
Neither.
Lit.
What a widow? something
Of this wide commendation might have beene
Excusd, this such a prodigie?
Al.
Repent
Before I name her, shee did never see
Yet full sixteene, an age in the opinion
Of wise men not contemptible, she ha's
Mourned out her yeare too for the honest Knight
That had compassion of her youth, and dy'd
So timely, such a widow is not common,
And now she shines more fresh and tempting
Then any naturall Virgin.
Are.
Whats her name?
Al.
Shee was Christened Celestina, by her husband
The Lady Bellamour, this Ring was hers.
Bor.
You borrowed it to coppie out the Posie.
Al.
Are they not pretty Rubies? twas a grace
She was pleasd to shew me, that I might have one
Made of the same fashion, for I love
All prettie formes.
Are.
And is she glorious?
Al.
She is full of Jewels Madam, but I am
Most taken with the bravery of her minde,
Although her garments have all grace and ornament.
Are.
You haue beene high in praises.
Al.
I come short,
No flattery can reach her.
Bor.
Now my Lady
Is troubled as she feared to be eclipsd,
Are.
You deserve
Her favour for this noble character.
Al.
And I possesse it by my starres benevolence.
Are.
You must bring us acquainted.
Bo.
I pray doe sir.
I long to see her too, Madam I have
Thought upon't and corrected my opinion,
Pursue what wayes of pleasure your desires
Incline you too, not onely with my state,
But with my person I will follow you,
I see the folly of my thrift, and will
Repent in Sacke and prodigalitie
To your owne hearts content.
Are.
But doe not mocke.
Bor.
Take me to your imbraces gentlemen
And tutor me.
Lit.
And will you kisse the Ladies?
Bor.
And sing and dance, I long to see this beauty,
I wood faine lose a hundred pounds at dice now,
Thou sha't have another gowne and petticote,
To morrow will you sell my running horses?
We have no Greeke wine in the house I thinke,
Pray send one of our footemen to the Merchant,
And throw the hogsheads of March-beare into
The kenell, to make roome for Sackes and Clarret,
What thinke you to be drunke yet before dinner?
We will have constant musicke and maintaine
Them and their Fidles in phantasticke liveries,
Ile tune my voyce to catches, I must have
My dyning roome enlarg'd to invite Embassadors,
Wee'le feast the parish in the fields, and teach
The Military men new discipline,
Who shall charge all their new Artillerie
With Oringes and Lemonds, boy to play
All dinner upon our capons.
Al.
Hee's exalted.
Bor.
I will doe any thing to please my Lady,
Let that suffice and kisse oth same condition,
I am converted, doe not you dispute
But patiently allow the miracle.
Enter Servant.
Are.
I am glad to heare you sir in so good tune,
Madam the Painter.
Are.
I am to sit this morning.
Bor.
Doe, while I give new directions to my Steward.
Al.
With your favour we'le waite on you, sitting's but
A melancholy exercise without
Some company to discourse.
Are.
It does conclude
A Ladies morning worke, we rise, make fine,
Sit for our Picture, and tis time to dine.
Lit.
Praying's forgot.
Al.
Tis out of fashion.
Exeunt.
Enter Celestina and her Steward.
Cel.
Fie, what an aire this roome has.
St.
Tis perfum'd.
Cel.
With some cheape stuffe, is it your wisedomes thrift
To infect my nostrils thus? Or i'st to favour
The Gout in your worships hand? You are afraid
To exercise your pen in your account Booke?
Or doe you doubt my credit to discharge
Your bills.
St.
Madam, I hope you have not found
My dutie with the guilt of sloath or jealousie,
Vnapt to your command.
Cel.
You can extenuate
Your faults with language sir, but I expect
To be obeyed; What hangings have we here?
St.
They are Arras Madam.
Cel.
Impudence I know't,
I will have fresher and more rich, not wrought
With faces that may scandalise a Christian
With Iewish stories stufft with Corne and Camells,
You had best wrap all my chambers in wild Irish,
And make a nursery of Monsters here,
To fright the Ladies comes to visite me.
St.
Madam I hope.
Cel.
I say I will have other,
Good Master Steward of a finer loome,
Some silke and silver if your worship please,
To let me be at so much cost Ile have
Stories to fit the seasons of the yeare,
And change as often as I please.
St.
You shall Madam.
Cel.
I am bound to your consent forsooth, and is
My coach brought home?
St.
This morning I expect it.
Cel.
The inside as I gave direction,
St.
Of crimson Camell plush.
Cel.
Ten thousand mothes consum't, shall I ride through
The streets in penance wrapt up round in haire cloath,
Sel't to an Alderman, twill serve his wife
To goe a feasting to their country house,
Or fetch a Merchants Nurse child, and come home
Laden with fruite and Cheese-cakes; I despise it.
St.
The nailes adorne it Madam, set in method
And pretty formes.
Cel.
But single guilt I warrant.
St.
No Madam:
Cel.
Another Solecisme, oh fie,
This fellow will bring me to a Consumption
With fretting at his ignorance, some Lady
Had rather never pray, than goe to Church in't;
The nailes not double guilt? to market wo't,
Twill hackny out to Mile-end, or convey
Your citie tumblers to be drunke with Creame
And Prunes at Islington.
St.
Good Madam heare me.
Cel.
Ile rather be beholding to my Aunt
The Countesse for her mourning coach, then be
Disparag'd so, shall any juggling tradsman
Be at charge to shooe his running horse with gold,
And shall my coach nailes be but single guilt?
How dare these knaves abuse me so?
St.
Vouchsafe
To heare me speake.
Cel.
Is my Sedan yet finish'd?
And liveries for my men-Mules according
As I gave charge.
St.
Yes Madam it is finish'd,
But without tilting plumes at the foure corners,
The scarlet's pure, but not embroidered.
Cel.
What mischiefe were it to your conscience
Were my coach lin'd with tissue, and my harnesse
Cover'd with needleworke? if my Sedan
Had all the story of the Prodigall,
Embrodered with pearle.
St.
Alas good Madam,
I know tis your owne cost, I am but your Steward,
And wod discharge my duty the best way,
You have beene pleasd to heare me, tis not for
My profit, that I manage your estate,
And save expence, but for your honour Madam.
How sir, my honour?
St.
Though you heare it not
Mens tongues are liberall in your character,
Since you began to live thus high, I know
Your fame is precious to you.
Cel.
I were best
Make you my governor, audacious Varlet,
How dare you interpose your doting counsell?
Mind your affaires with more obedience,
Or I shall ease you of an office sir,
Must I be limited to please your honour?
Or for the vulgar breath confine my pleasures,
I will pursue 'em in what shapes I fancie,
Here, and abroad, my entertainements shall
Be oftner, and more rich, who shall controule me?
I live i'th strand, whether few Ladies come
To live, and purchase, more than fame, I will
Be hospitable then, and spare no cost
That may engage all generous report
To trumpet forth my bounty and my braverie,
Till the Court envie, and remove, Ile have
My house the Academy of wits, who shall
Exalt with rich Sacke, and Sturgeon,
Write Panegyricks of my feasts, and praise
The method of my wittie superfluities,
The horses shall be taught with frequent waiting
Vpon my gates, to stop in their careere
Toward Charing-crosse, spight of the Coachmans fury.
And not a tilter, but shall strike his plume,
When he sailes by my window, my Balconie
Shall be the Courtiers Idoll, and more gaz'd at,
Than all the Pageantry at Temple barre,
By countrey Clients.
St.
Sure my Ladie's mad.
Cel.
Take that for your ill manners.
St.
Thanke you Madam,
I would there were lesse quicksilver in your fingers.
Exit.
Cel.
There's more than simple honesty in a servant
Requir'd to his full dutie, none should dare,
But with a looke, much lesse a sawcie language
Checke at their Mistresse pleasure, I'me resolv'd
To pay for some delight, my estate will beare it,
Enter Steward.
St.
A gentleman
Desires to speake with your Ladiship.
Cel.
His name?
St.
He saies you know him not, he seemes to be
Of qualitie.
Cel.
Admit him. Sir with me.
Enter Hairecut.
Ha.
Madam I know not, how you may receive
This boldnesse from me, but my faire intents
Knowne, will incline you to be charitable.
Cel.
No doubt sir.
Ha.
He must live obscurely Madam,
That hath not heard what vertues you possesse,
And I a poore admirer of your fame,
Am come to kisse your hand.
Cel.
That all your businesse?
Ha.
Though it were worth much travell, I have more
In my ambition.
Cel.
Speake it freely sir.
Ha.
You are a widow.
Cel.
So.
Ha.
And I a Bachelor.
Cel.
You come a wooing sir, and would perhaps
Shew me a way to reconcile these two.
Ha.
And blesse my starres for such a happinesse.
Cel.
I like you sir the better, that you doe not
Wander about, but shoote home to the meaning,
Tis a confidence will make a man
Know sooner what to trust to, but I never
Saw you before, and I beleeve you come not
With hope to finde me desperate upon marriage,
If maides out of their ignorance of what
Men, are refuse these offers, widowes may
Out of their knowledge be allow'd some coynesse,
And yet I know not how much happinesse
A peremptorie answer may deprive me of,
You may be some young Lord, and though I see not
Your footmen and your groome, they may not be
Farre off in conference with your horse, please you
To instruct me with your title, against which
I would not willingly offend.
Ha.
I am
A gentleman, my name is Hairecut madam.
Cel.
Sweete Mr. Hairecut, are you a Courtier?
Yes
Cel.
J did thinke so by your confidence,
Not to detaine you sir with circumstance,
J was not so unhappy in my husband
But that tis possible J may be a wife
Agen, but J must tell you, he that winnes
My affection shall deserve me.
Ha.
J will hope
If you can love, J shanot present Madam
An object to displease you in my person,
And when time, and your patience shall possesse you
With further knowledge of me, and the truth
Of my devotion, you will not repent
The offer of my service.
Cel.
You say well.
How long doe you imagine you can love sir?
Is it a Quotidian, or will it hold
But every other day?
Ha.
You are pleasant Madam.
Cel.
Dost take you with a burning at the first,
Or with a cold fit, for you gentlemen
Have both your Summer, and your Winter service.
Ha.
J am ignorant what you meane, but J shall never
Be cold in my affection to such beautie.
Cel.
And twill be somewhat long ere J be warme in't.
Ha.
If you vouchsafe me so much honour Madam,
That J may waite on you sometimes, J shanot
Despaire to see a change.
Cel.
But now J know
Your minde, you shall not neede to tell it, when
You come agen, J shall remember it.
Ha.
You make me fortunate.
Enter Steward.
St.
Madam your kinswomen
The Lady Novice and her sister are
New lighted from their coach.
Cel.
I did expect e'm,
They partly are my pupills, ile attend e'm.
Ha.
Madam I have beene too great a trespasser
Vpon your patience, ile take my leave,
You have affaires, and I have some imployment
Calls me to Court, I shall present agen
A servant to you.
Cel.
Sir you may present,
Exit. Ha.
But not give fire I hope, now to the Ladies
This recreation's past, the next must be
Exeunt.
| The Lady of Pleasvre | |