 | The Ball |  |
Actus Quartus.
Enter Lord and Bostocke.Bo.
Svch an affront my Lord, I was asham'd on't,
A meere conspiracie to betray our fames,
But had you seene how poorely they behav'd
Themselves, such carven Knights, a paire of Drone-Bees
Ith' midst o'my vexation, if I could
Forbeare to laugh, I ha no blood in me,
They were so farre from striking that they stood
Like Images, things without life and motion,
Feare could not make so much as their tongue tremble,
Left all to me.
Lo.
So so, what then did you.
Bo.
The Lady laugh'd too, and the Coronell
Increas'd his noise, to see how she derided
The poore Knights.
Lo.
Leave their Character and proceede
To what you did.
Bo.
You shall pardon me my Lord,
I am not willing to report my selfe,
They and the Lady, and the Coronell
Can witnesse I came on.
Lo.
But how came you off cosin? that must commend you.
Bo,
I ha my limbes my Lord, no signe of losse
Of blood you see, but this was fortune, how
Lo.
Doe not you know?
Bo.
No, I left him, I thinke tis time.
Lo.
You did not kill him?
Bo.
Vpon my faith my Lord I meant it not,
But wounds fall out some time when the swords in,
These are poore things to bragge on, I ha sav'd my
Selfe you see.
Lo.
If it be so Ile call you cosin still, my satinist
Enter Barker.
Harke you shall beate this fellow.
Bo.
Shall I my Lord without cause?
Lo.
He shall give you cause presently, how now
Gum'd taffata.
Ba.
I pay for what I weare
My sattaine Lord? your Wardrobe does not keepe
Me warme, I doe not runne oth' ticket with
The Mercers wife, and leacher out my debts
At country houses.
Lor.
Theres something else you doe not.
Ba.
I doe not use to flatter such as you are,
Whose bodies are so rotten, theyle scarce keepe
Their soules from breaking out, I write no odes
Vpon your Mistresse to commend her postures,
And tumbling in a coach towards Padington,
Whether you hurry her to see the Phesants,
And try what operation the egges have
At your returne, I am not taken with
Your mightie nonsence, glean'd from Heathenish player,
Which leave a curse upon the Author for 'em,
Though I have studied to redeeme you from
The infection of such bookes, which martyr sence
Worse than an Almanacke.
Lo.
Excellent Satire,
But lash not on, stop here, or I shall kicke
Your learned worship.
Ba.
But doe not, I advise you doe not.
Lo.
Why doe not?
It will fall heavy o'some body, if your Lordship
Kicke me, I shall not spare your cosin there.
Lo.
On that condition what doe you thinke o'that.
Ba.
What doe you thinke?
Bo.
Excellently well followed by my troth la,
Heele pitch the barre well, I warrant, he does
So follow his kicke.
Ba.
Let it goe round.
Bo.
Good, right as my legge againe.
Lo.
Your legge, twas hee that kickt you.
Bo.
Dee thinke I doe not feele it?
Lo.
Why dee not use your toes then?
Bo.
What for a merry touch,
A tricke, a turne upon the toe, dee heare sir
Yare good company, but if thou lovest me.
Ba.
Love you? why dee heare sir,
I, I,
What a poxe should any man see in you,
Once to thinke on you? love a squirte?
Shall I tell thee what thou art good for?
Bo.
I.
Ba.
For nothing.
Bo.
Good againe, my Lord observe him, for nothing.
Ba.
Yes thou wot stop a breach in a mudde wall,
Or serve for a Priapus in the garden to
Fright away crowes, and keepe the corne, beane shatter,
Thou wot.
Bo.
Ha ha ha.
Ba.
Or thou wot serve at shrove tide to ha thy legges
Broken with penny trounchens in the streete,
Tis pitty any Cocke should stand the pelting,
Aod such a Capon unpreferr'd.
Bo.
Ha ha ha.
Ba.
Cry mercy y'are a kinsman to the Lord,
A Gentleman of high and mighty blood.
Lo.
But cold enough, wonot all this provoke him?
Ba.
Dost heare? for all this I will undertake
To thrash a better man out of a wench.
Betweene two dorsers, any day oth' weeke,
My twice sod taile of greene fish, I will do't
Or loose, my inheritance, tell me, and doe not stammer,
When wert thou cudgell'd last? what woman beate thee?
Bo.
Excellent Barker.
Ba.
Thou art the towne top,
A boy will set thee up, and make thee spinne
Home with an Eeleskinne, do not marry, doe not,
Thy wife will coddle thee, and serve thee up
In plates with Sugar and Rose water to
Him that had the grace to cuckold thee;
And if Pythagoras transmigration
Of soules were true, thy spirit should be tenant
To a ho se.
Bo.
Why to a horse?
Ba.
A switch and spurre would doe some good upon you,
Why dost thou enterfare, get the grincomes, goe,
And straddle like a gentleman that wod
Not shame his kindred, but what doe I
Lose time with such a puppie?
Bo.
Well, goe thy wayes Ile justifie thy wit
At my owne perill.
Ba.
I would speake with you,
Be not too busie with your Lordships legges,
Ile tell you somewhat.
Lo.
Speake toth' purpose then.
Ba.
I bestow'd
A visite on the Ladies which you wot on,
They have their wits still, and resolve to keepe 'em,
They wonot hang themselves for a young Lord,
Nor grow into consumption, other men
Have eyes, and nose, and lippes, and hansome legges too:
So fare you well Lord, my I left your kicke
With your cosin buy buy otter.
Exit.
Lo.
Very well.
But harke you cosin Bostocke, you have a minde
And modest constitution, I expected
You wod have lifted up your legge.
To kicke him,
Why, and you wod ha given a thousand pound,
I could not do't for laughing, beside,
He was your friend my Lord.
Lo.
Did you spare him
For that consideration?
Bo.
Howsoever,
What honour had it beene for me to quarrell?
Or wit indeede, if every man should take
All the abuses that are meant, great men
Would be laughed at, some fooles must ha their jests,
Had he beene any man of blood or valour,
One that profes'd the sword, such as the Coronell,
Lesse provocation would ha made me active.
Enter Sr. Ambrose, and Sr. Marmaduke.
Lo.
The Eagles takes no Flies, is that it, how now
Sir Ambrose, and my honor'd friend Sr. Marmaduke?
You are strangers.
Ma.
Your Lordships pardon, Mr. Bostocke.
Bo.
Now shall I be put too't, this taking will undoe me.
Lo.
Prethee tell me? is the Coronell alive still?
Am.
Alive my Lord, yes yes, hee's alive.
Bo.
Did your Lordship thinke absolutely he was dead?
Lo.
But he is shrewdly wounded.
Am.
No my Lord,
He is very well, but twas your kinsemans fortune.
Bo.
Prethee nere speake on't.
Lo.
What?
Ma.
To have a blow, a boxe oth' eare.
Lo.
How?
Ma.
With his fist, and an indifferent round one.
Bo.
Yes, yes he did strike me, I could ha told you that,
But wherefore did he strike, aske 'em that.
Ma.
If you would know my Lord, he was our orator
To raile upon the Lady for abusing us,
Which I confesse he did with lung and spirit,
Which in the conclusion, the Coronell
Stroke him toth' ground.
He did so tis a truth.
Lo.
And did you take it?
Bo.
Take it; he gave it me my Lord, I asked not for it.
But tis not yet reveng'd.
Am.
Tis truth we suffer'd
A little, but the place protected him.
Bo.
It was no place indeed.
Ma.
Now since you had the greatest burden in
The affront.
Bo.
The blow?
Ma.
Right, we wod know whether your resolution
Be first, to question him, for our cause appeares
Subordinate, and may take breath till you
Ha call'd him to account.
Bo.
I proclaime nothing,
And make no doubt the Coronell will give me
Satisfaction like a Gentleman.
Am.
We are answer'd, and take our leave my Lord.
Lo.
We shall meete at the Ball anon gentlemen.
Ma.
Your Lordships servants: now to our designe.
Exeu.
Bo.
My Lord I take my leave too.
Lo.
Not yet cosin, you and I ha not done.
Bo.
What you please cosin.
Lo.
You have cosen'd me too much.
Bo.
I my good Lord?
Lo.
Thou most unheard of coward,
How dare you bost relation to me?
Be so impudent as to name, or thinke upon me,
Thou staine to honour, honour? th'art beneath
All the degrees of basenesse: quit thy father,
Thy suppos'd one, and with sufficient testimony,
Some Servingman leapt thy mother, or some Iuggler
That conjures with old bones, some womans tailor,
When he brought home her petticoate, and tooke measure
Of her lose body, or Ile cullice thee
With a bottome.
Bo.
Good my Lord.
Lo.
Be so baffoul'd?
To make the blood of all thou knowest suspected,
And Ile ha satisfaction.
Bo.
My Lord.
Lo.
For using of my name in Ordinaries,
Ith' list of other whom you make your priviledge,
To dominere, and winne applause sometimes
With Tapsters, and thread-beare Tobacco Merchants,
That worship your gold lace, and ignorance
Stand bare, and bend their hammes, when you belch out
My Lord, and tother cosin in a Baudihouse,
Whom with a noyse you curse by Iacke and Tom,
For failing you at Fishstreete, or the Still-yard.
Bo.
My very good Lord.
Lo.
Will you not draw?
Bo.
Not against your honour, but you shall see.
Lo.
And vexe my eyes to looke on such a Land-rat,
Were all these shames forgotten, how shall I
Be safe in honour with that noble Lady,
To whom I sinnefully commended thee,
Though twere not much, enough to make her thinke
I am as base as thou art, and the Coronell,
And all that have but heard thee call me cosin,
What cure for this you Malt-worme? oh my soule
How it does blush to know thee, bragging puppie,
Dee heare me thunder, and lightning, what
Nobilitie my predecessors bosted,
Or any man from honours stocke descended;
How many Marquesses and Earles are numbred
In their great family? what coates they quarter,
How many battells our forefathers fought?
Tis poore, and not becomming perfect gentry
To build their glories at their fathers cost,
But at their owne expense of blood or vertue,
To raise them living monuments, our birth
Is not our owne act, honour upon trust,
Our ill deedes forfeit, and the wealthy summes
Purchas'st by others fame or sweate, will be
But what our actions make us worthy of;
And are you not a precious gentleman,
Thou art not worth my steele, redeeme this love
Some generous way of undertaking, or
Thou shalt be given up to boyes, and ballets,
The scorne of footeman, a disgrace more blacke
Than bastard, goe to the Coronell.
Bo.
I will my Lord.
Lo.
But now I thinke ont twill be necessarie,
That first you right my honour with the Lady,
You shall carry a letter, you will do't?
Bo.
Ile carry any thing.
Lo.
Expect it presently.
Exit.
Bo.
Such another conjuring will make me
Beleeve I am illigitimate indeede,
This came first keeping company with the blades,
From whom I learnt to roare and runne away:
I know tis a base thing to be a coward,
But every man is not borne to be a Hercules,
Some must be beate that others may be valiant.
Exit.
Enter Rosomond, and Honoria whispering, Sr. Marmaduke, and Sr. Ambrose following.
Ro.
Let it be so, they will else be troublesome.
Ma.
This cannot I hope displease you Lady, tis
No new affection I protest, although
This be the first occasion I tooke
To expresse it.
Ro.
You did ill in the impression,
Although your bashfulnesse would not permit you
To speake in your owne cause, you might have sent
Your meaning, I can make a shift to read
A scurvie hand, but I shall tell you sir.
Ma.
Prethee doe.
Ho.
Ist possible your heart hath beene tormented
In loves flame, and I the cause.
Am.
Your beauty hath the power
To melt a Cithians bosome, those divine
Hath seal'd the cranies up with frost, your eye
Will make the frigid region temperate,
Should you but smile upon't: account it then
No wonder if it turne my brest to ashes.
Ro.
I see you are in love by your mention,
And cause I pitty a gentleman should lose
His passion Ile acquaint you with a secret.
Ma.
The Lady Honoria?
Ro.
What misfortune twas
You did not first apply your selfe to her
That can reward your love, and hath a heart
Spacious to entertaine you; she does love you
Vpon my knowledge strangely, and so
Commends you in your absence.
Ma.
Say you so Lady?
Pardon I beseech you the affection
I profest to your Ladiship, twas but
A complement, I am sorry I protest.
Ro.
Oh tis excus'd sir, but I must tell you,
Perhaps you wonot finde her now so tractable
Vpon the apprehension she was slighted;
But to prescribe you confidence were to
Suspect you art, and bold discretion.
Ho.
Tis as I tell you sir, no Lady in
The world can speake more praises of your body?
Shee knowes not yet your minde.
Am.
Ist possible?
Ho.
And yet because she saw your complements
Directed so unhappily to me,
I know not how youle finde her on the sudden,
But tis not halfe an houre since you possest
The first place in her thoughts.
Am.
Shall I presume,
You will excuse the love I did present
Your Ladiship? it was not from my heart,
I hope you will conceive so.
Ho.
A slight error.
I am a sham'd on't.
Ho.
Tis sufficient
That you recant no more neglect.
Ro.
You are pleasant.
Am.
Be you so too; Ile justifie thou shalt
Have cause.
Ro.
To wonder at you, whats your meaning sir?
Am.
Sweete Lady,
What thoughts make sad your brow? I have observ'd
Your eyes shoote clearer light.
Ro.
You are deceiv'd,
I am not melancholy.
Am.
Be for ever banish'd
The imagination of what can happen
To cloud so rare a beautie, y'are in love.
Ro.
In love, who told you so?
Am.
But thats no wonder,
We all may love, but you have onely power
To conquer where you place affection, and triumph ore your wishes.
Ho.
I love you, y'are strangely sir mistaken,
Put your devices on some other Lady,
I ha beene so farre from my affection to you,
That I ha laboured I confesse to unsettle
The opinion of my Lady Rosomond,
Who I confesse loves you, and that extreamely.
Mar.
How? she love me? then I ha made fine worke.
Ho.
What cunning shee is mistresse of to hide
Her strange affections, or what power she has,
She does flie into your armes I know not.
Ro.
Are you so dull?
Why, this was but to try your constancie,
I have heard her sweare you are the proprest Knight,
The very Adonis; why, she has got your picture
And made it the onely saint within her closet,
I blush at your credulitie.
Am.
Ist e'ne so?
I have undone my selfe with her already,
Pardon me gentle Madam, I must leave you.
With all my heart.
Ho.
We are reliev'd,
Enter Mounsieur.
Mounsieur Le Friske.
Moun.
Tres humble serviter Madam,
Me sweate with de hast to waite upon your Ladiships;
I pray give me de leve dispatch presently,
For I must figaries to be done.
Ro.
Gentlemen let your passions breath a while,
A little musicke may correct the errour,
And you may finde your selves.
Moun.
Aller.
Am.
With all my heart Sr. Marmaduke lets helpe
To exercise the Ladies.
Ma.
A good motion.
Moun.
And begar noting in de world mor profet
Your body den de motion all a more de France.
Ma.
I am for any friske.
Moun.
Ha de friske you jumpe upon my name, and
Begar you have my nature to de right, hey, and
All de world is but friske.
Ho.
A Country dance then.
Moun.
Hah, Mounsieur Madam aller,
They Dance.
Forboone, tres excellent begar, so I crave your patience
Madam, gentlemen, you be at de Ball, mofoy you
See dat was never in dis world.
Ro.
What Mounsieur?
Moun.
What doe you thinke dat is, me tell you, begar
You see me play de part of de Cupid.
Ho.
A French Cupid.
Moun.
Begar French Cupid, why? dere is no love like
De French love, dat is Cupid, love is hot, and de
French is hot.
Ro.
How comes it to passe that you are to play Cupid Moun.
Mo.
My Lord give me cōmand me have device, & de masque
For de Ladies, and me no trust little Iacknape to play
Young Cupid but my selfe.
Ho.
Cupid is a childe, you have a beard Mounsieur.
Mo.
Me care not de haire for dat, begar de little god may have
Her shild may have the blacke mussell.
Ho.
But Mounsieur, we read Cupid was faire, and
You are blacke, how will that agree?
Mo.
Cupid is faire, and Mounsieur is blacke, why Mounsieur
Is blacke den, and Cupid is faire, what is dat? a faire
Lady love de servant of the blacke
Complexion de baneur, the colour is not de mush,
Uulcan was de blacke Smith, and Cupid may be de
Blacke gentlemen his sonne legitimate.
Am.
Tis de way to make Cupid the boy no bastard.
Mo.
But doe you no publish this invention, me meete you
At de Ball armed with quiver, and de bow.
Ho.
You wonot shoote us, I hope youle spare our hearts,
Mo.
Begar me shit you if me can, and your arts shall
Bleed one, two, tree, gallowne adieu Madame
Serviter gentlemen tresemble.
Am.
Adieu Mounsieur, now Madam with your favour,
I must renew my suite.
Ho.
Yad better buy a new one,
Nay then we shall be troubled.
Exit.
Am.
Youle withdraw,
Ile follow you.
Ma.
Come, come I know you love me.
Ro.
You may enlarge your folly my deare knight,
But I have pardoned you for love already.
Ma.
This shannot serve your turne, I came hither
Not to be jeered, and one of you shall love me.
Exit
Enter Bostocke, Lady Lucina and Scutilla.
Luc.
Oh impudence dares he returne.
Scu.
It seemes so.
Bo.
Most gracious Madam, my cosin your Lord Loveall
Commends himselfe in blacke and white.
Luc.
To me?
Bo.
Dee thinke tis from my selfe.
Scu.
You might ha dont in blacke and blew.
Bo.
Scutilla how does thy poore soule, thou
Hast no husband nor children to commend me to.
Scu.
The poore soule's well, I hope your body is
We ha so talkt on you?
Luc.
I am sorry any gentleman that has relation to me should
Be so forgetfull of your honor, & his own, but though he have
Forfited opinion, let me continue innocent in your thoughts?
I have sent you a small jewell to expiate my offence for
Commending him, I expect your Ladiship at the Ball,
Where you shall make many happie to kisse your hand,
And in their number the true admirer of your vertue,
My Lord is honourable.
Bo.
A slight jewell Madam.
Loveall.
Luc.
I am his servant.
Bo.
Nay faith my Lord is right, I ha not met
The Coronell since you know when.
Sc.
You ha more reason to remember.
Bo.
I would be so bold to aske you a question.
Luc.
In the meane time give me leave, we are none
But friends, I know y'are valliant.
Bo.
No, no, you doe not know't, but I know my selfe.
Scu.
Thats more.
Luc.
But will you answer me? why did not you strike him agen?
Scu.
That might ha caus'd blood.
Bo.
Y'are ith right.
Luc.
You did not feare him.
Bo.
But blood are not a like, termes were not even,
If I had kill'd him there had beene an end.
Luc.
Of him.
Bo.
Right Madam, but if he had wounded me,
He might ha kill'd, heaven knowes how many.
Scu.
Strange?
Bo.
D'ee not conceive it? so many drops of mine,
So many gentlemen, nay more, who knowes
Which of these might ha beene a Knight, a Lord.
Luc.
Perhaps a Prince.
Bo.
Princes came from the blood,
And should I hazard such a severation
Against a single life, tis not I feare
To fight with him by these hills, but what wise gamester
Will venture a hundred pound to a flaw'd sixe pence?
Madam, the Coronell.
Bo.
And he were ten Coronells, Ile not endure his company,
Sweete Lady, you and Ile retire.
Scu.
And were lesse honourable.
Bo.
He should not seeke me then.
Sc.
He should rather hardly find you, Ime your servant.
Exi.
Enter Coronell.
Luc.
I was wishing for you sir,
Your judgement of these Diamonds.
Co.
The stones are pretty.
Luc.
They were a Lords, sent me for a token,
You cannot chuse but know him, the Lord Loveall.
Co.
So, so, so, I am like to speede.
Luc.
Is not he a pretty gentleman?
Co.
And you are sure hee's honest?
Luc.
As Lords goe now adayes that are
In fashion;
But cry you mercy, you ha put me in minde,
I did propound a businesse to you sir.
Co.
And I came prepar'd to answer you.
Luc.
Tis very well, Ile call one to be a witnesse.
Co.
That was not I remember in our Covenant,
You shannot neede.
Luc.
Ile fetch you a booke to sware by.
Co.
Let it be Venus and Adonis then,
Or Ovids wanton Elieges, Aristotles
Problemes, Guy of Warwicke, or Sr. Beavis,
Or if there be a Play Booke you Love better,
Ile take my oath upon your Epilogue.
Luc.
Y'are very merry, well, sweare how you please.
Co.
In good time,
You doe expect now I should sweare Ime honest?
Luc.
Yes sir, and tis no hard condition,
If you reflect upon my promise.
Co.
What?
Luc.
To marry you, which act must make you Lord
Of me and my estate, a round possession,
Some men have gone to hell for a lesse matter.
Co.
But I wonot be damn'd for twenty thousand
And I the authoritie of a Parliament
To marry wo'yee all, I wod not buy
This flesh now I ha sworne.
Luc.
I thinke so Coronell,
Blesse me? twenty thousand wives, two'd nere
Come to my turne, and you'd not live to give
The tithe benevolence.
Co.
They would finde Pages, fooles, or Gentlemen-Vshens.
Luc.
Then upon the matter,
You being not willing sir to take your oath,
I may be confident you are not honest.
Co.
Why looke upon me Lady, and consider
With some discretion what part about me
Does looke so tame you should suspect me honest,
How old dee thinke I am?
Luc.
I guesse at thirty.
Co.
Some ith' world doubted me not so much,
At thirteene I was ever plumpe and forward,
My drie Nurse swore at seven, I kist like one
Of five and twenty, setting that a side,
Whats my profession?
Luc.
A Souldier
Co.
So examine a whole army, and finde one
Souldier that hates a hansome woman, we cannot march
Without our bagge and baggages, and is it possible,
When we come home where womens pride, and all
Temptation to wantonesse abounds
We should lose our activitie?
Lu.
You souldiers are brave fellowes.
Co.
When we have our pay,
We vow no chastitie till we marry, Lady
Tis out of fashion indeede with gentlemen
To be honest, and of age together tis sufficient,
We can provide to take our pleasures too,
Without infection, a sound body is
A treasure I can tell you, yet if that
Would satisfy you, I should make no scruple
To sweare, but otherwise you must pardon us
As we must pardon you.
Luc.
Vs sir.
Co.
Yes you, as if you Ladies had not your fagaries,
Your out workes, and redoubts, your court of guard,
Your centries, and perdues, sallies, retreates,
Pasties, and stratagems, women are all honest,
Yes, yes, exceeding honest; let me aske you
One question, Ile not put you to your oath,
I doe allow you Hide-Parke, and Spring-Garden,
You have a recreation called the Ball,
A device transported hither by some Ladies
That affect Tenice, what dee play a set?
Theres a foule racket kept under the line.
Strange words are bandied, and strange revells Madam.
Luc.
The world imagines so.
Co.
Nay, y'are all talk'd of.
Luc.
But if men had no more wit, and honesty,
They wod let fall their stings on something else,
This is discours'd, but when Corantaes faile,
Or newes at ordinaries, when the phlegmaticke Dutch
Ha tane no Fisher-boates, or our Cole-ships land
Safe at New-Castle, y'are fine gentlemen,
But to conclude of that we met for your honesty,
Not justified by an oath, as I expected,
Is now suspended, will you sweare yet.
Co.
Why, I thought you had beene a Christian? Widdow
Have I not told you enough, you may meete one
Will forfeit his conscience, and please you better,
Some Silke-worme oth' Cittie, or the Court,
There be enough will sweare away their soule
For your estate, but I have no such purpose,
The warres will last I hope.
Luc.
So so, Scutilla.
Enter Scutilla.
You were present when I promis'd the Coronell,
To be his wife upon condition,
He could secure my opinion by his oath,
That he was honest, I am bound in honour
Not to goe backe, y ave done it, I am yours sir,
Be you a witnesse to this solemne contract.
Co.
Are you in earnest Lady, I ha not sworne.
Luc.
You have given better truth,
He that can make this conscience of an oath
Assures his honesty.
In minde.
Luc.
Whats past
I question not, if for the time to come
Your love be vertuous to me.
Co.
Most religious,
Or let me live the Souldiers dishonour,
And die the scorne of gentlemen, I ha not
Space enough in my heart to entertaine thee.
Luc.
Is not this better than swearing?
Co.
I confesse it.
Luc.
Now I may call you husband?
Co.
No title can more honour me.
Luc.
If please you Ile shew you then my children.
Co.
How, your children?
Luc.
I ha sixe that call me mother.
Co.
Hast, faith?
Luc.
The elder may want softnesse to acknowledge you,
But some are young enough, and may be counsell'd
To aske your blessing, does this trouble you?
Co.
Trouble me? no, but it is the first newes Lady
Of any children.
Luc.
Nay, they are not like
To be a burden to us, they must trust
To their owne portions left 'em by their father.
Co.
Where.
Luc.
But of my estate, I cannot keepe
Any thing from 'em, and I know you are
So honest, you'd not wish me wrong the Orphans,
Tis but sixe thousand pound in money Coronell
Among them all, beside some trifling plate
And jewels worth a thousand more.
Co.
No more?
Luc.
My Ioynture will be firme to us, two hundred
Per annum.
Co.
Is it so? and that will keepe
A Country house, some halfe a dozen Cowes,
We shall ha cheese and butter-milke, one horse
Will serve me, and your man to ride to markets.
Luc.
Canst be content to live ith' country Coronell?
Co.
And watch the Pease, looke to the Hay, and talke
Of Oates and Stubble, I ha beene brought up too't,
And for a need can thrash.
Luc.
That will save somewhat.
Co.
Ith yeere, beside my skill in farrowing pigs,
Oh tis a holsome thing to hold the plough,
And wade up to the calfe ith' dirty furrowes
You ha not heard me whistle yet.
Luc.
No indeede.
Co.
Why? theres it, shee does tounterfeit, well Lady,
Be yon in jeast or earnest, this is my
Resolution Ile marry you, and y'ad forty children,
And not a foote of land to your Ioynture, heaven
Will provide for, and we doe our endeavours,
Where be the children, come how many boyes.
Luc.
As many as can get sir.
Co.
How?
Luc.
No more.
Since y'are so noble, know I tried your patience,
And now I am confirm'd, my estate is yours
Without the weight of children or of debts,
Love me, and I repent not.
Co.
Saist thou so?
I wod we had a Priest here.
Luc.
There remaines to take away one scruple.
Co.
Another gintracke.
Luc.
I have none, tis your doubt sir,
And ere we marry you shall be convinc'd
Some mallice has corruted your opinion
Of that we call the Ball.
Co.
Your dancing businesse.
Luc.
I will intreate your company to night,
Where your owne eyes shall leade you to accuse
Or vindicate our fames.
Co.
With all my heart.
Scu.
Madam, Mr. Bostocke
Expects within.
Luc.
You shall be reconcil'd to him.
Co.
With Bostocke willingly, then toth Ball,
Which for your sake I dare not now suspect,
Where union of hearts such Empire brings,
Subjects methings are crown'd as we as Kings.
Exeunt.
| The Ball | |