University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

Vermine, Dryground.
Ver.
You have your Money; full a thousand pound,
Sir Humfrey Dryground.

Dry.
And you have my Mortgage.

Ver.
All well and good; all well and good. But, now,
Sir Humfrey Dryground, let me counsell you.
You have already spent a faire Estate;
A goodly, great estate: I do not taunt,
Nor taxe you for't.

Dry.
Because its pumpt into
The purses of such wretches as thy selfe.

Ver.
But give me leave, now, fairely to admonish
You, to a care, how you do part with this.
You spirited men call Money Dirt and Mud.
I say it is the Eele.

Dry.
And you the Mud
That foster it.

Ver.
It is an Eele, I say,
In such sleek hands, as yours; from whence it glides—

Dry.
Into the Mud, oft-times, from whence it came.

Ver.
I know you doe conceive me. Therefore, Sir,
(As I before was saying) Hold it fast.

Dry.
According to the Ballad.
[He sings.]

Ver.
So so, I see it going already.

Dry.
I, to thy comfort. This is the Usurers Scripture;
And all that they pretend Salvation by:
To give good admonition with their Money;
Though, in their hearts they wish the quick subversion
Of all they deal with. This is all they plead
Against the curses of oppressed soules:
Did not I warne you? Did not I say, take heed?
And so, and so forth. I must thank you Sir.

Ver.
You say, youle make a venture of this Money.

Dry.
Yes Mr. Vermine, in a Project, that—

Ver.
Out upon Projects. Fy fy, out out out.

Dry.
I'm confident shall set me out of debt,
With you and all the World; and reap, againe,
All, that I formerly have sowne, with profit.

Ver.
Sowne! There's a word! Prodigall wast is sowing.
We shall call Shipwrack, shortly, sowing too.
Heark you Sir Humfrey Dryground, may not I
Be privy to your Project? Will you tell me,
If I guesse on it?

Dry.
That I will in sooth.

Ver.
Is 't not to dreine the Goodwins? To be Lord
Of all the Treasure, buryed in the Sands there?
And have a Million yearely, from the Merchants
To cleer the passage.

Dry.
You have had your blow.
No Sir, my Project is in the behalfe
Of the poor Gentleman, you overthrew.
By the strong hand of Law, Bribes, and oppression;
Brookall: Do you know him Sir? whose state you suck'd
That wrought him to a poverty that cryes
Your sinfull Covetise up to the heighth;
And renders you the Monster of our time,
For avarice and cruelty.

Ver.
No more of that.

Dry.
You should do well to add a sum, like this
To his releife: To wave the bitter curse
That will in time fall on you and your house.

Ver.
O ho! I now remember, you have reason.
That Brookall had a Sister, whom you vitiated
In your wild heat of blood, and then deny'd
Her promis'd Marriage; turnd her off with Childe
A dozen yeares since, and since that, never heard of.
Ha! Is't not so? Pray, did you know her Sir?

Dry.
I wish I could redeem that ruthfull fault,
By all expiatory meanes: But thy
Inhumane cruelty is inexpiable:
Unlesse (it comes from Heaven into my heart
To move thee to't) thou tak'st a speedy course
To give him threefold restitution.
Ile put thee in the way. He has a Son,
A hopefull Youth, a Student in the Law,
If his poor Fathers want of means have not
Declined his course: Give him thy onely Daughter,
And make his Fathers owne Inheritance
(By thee unrighteously usurpt) her Dowry;
And pray a blessing may go with it: And then
Thou mayst regaine a Christian reputation,
Till age shall lead thee to a quiet Grave.
Come, is't a match? Will you bestow your Daughter
On Brookalls Son, and make your way to Heaven by't?

Ver.
You have your Money.

Dry.
And thou hast Adders eares
To all such Counsells.

Ver.
If you break your day
I shall thinke of your counsell.

Dry.
Farewell Vermine.

Exit.
Ver.
And farewell Dryground.
This parcell of thy Land, Ile keep from wetting:
The Mortgage.
Tis not in thee to turne an Acre of it
Into pure Liquor, for a twelvemoneths day.
And break that day thy payment, and the Sun
Sets not more sure, then all this Land is mine.
My Daughter! ha! Can't be in thought of man
To dreame of such a Match? A wretch, a Beggar?
Within there! Wheres my Girle? What Ally? Ally?

Enter Alice.
Ali.
Here Sir—

Vir.
My blessing, and good morne: Now heare me Girle.

Ali.
Now for a Speech—

Ver.
The care of Children's such a startle-braine,
That had I more then one, I should run Wild-cat,
(Then one I mean, to care for) that's thy selfe,
My sober discreet Daughter. Note my care,
Pil'd up for thee in massy sums of wealth;
Too weighty for thy weak consideration
To guesse from whence it came, or how together
So layd in mountainous heaps.

Ali.
It is indeed
As strange to me, as are the stony wonders
On Salsbury Plaine to others. But my duty
Perswades me twas your thrift, and that great blessing
That gives increase to honest Industry,
Drawne on it by your prayers and upright life,
That wrought these heaps together.

Ver.
O, Ally Ally,
Tis well if thine with all thy Huswifry
Can keep 'em so. I thanke thee for thy judgement
And charitable thoughts. But—

Ali.
You had other wayes.

Ver.
I say, thou art the onely Childe I care for.
Thy Brother (though I loath to call him so)
Is, now, an utter stranger to my blood;
Not to be nam'd but with my curse, a Wolfe
That teares my very bowells out.

Ali.
Your Money.

Ver.
A riotous Reprobate, that hath consum'd
His last, already, of my meanes and blessing.

Ali.
But he yet may be turn'd Sir.

Ver.
Out oth' Compter!
May he be so, dost think? Could I but dream
His Creditors, that have him fast, could be
So idly mercifull, or that his youthfull Ghing
Could stretch, to get him out, Ile lay, my selfe,
An Action on him weightier, then the strength
Of all their poor abilities could lift:
His Jacks, his Toms, his Nams, Nolls, Gills, and Nuns,
The roaring fry of his Blade-brandishing mates
Should not release his Carcasse: If they did,
I'de force him to a tryall for his life,
For the two hundred Peices that he pilfred.
Out of my Counting-house. He shall up.

Ali.
I will not forfeit my obedience Sir,
To urge against your Justice, onely I crave
Your leave to grieve, that I have such a Brother.

Ver.
Thou shalt defie the name of Brother in him,
My onely, onely Childe; and but in one command
Obey me further, all my estate is thine,
Tis that I cald thee for.

Ali.
I do not crave
More, then your daily blessing; but desire
To know what youle impose upon my duty.

Ver.
Thou shalt, and stile thy selfe a Lady by't.

Ali.
Now Love defend me from the man I feare.

Ver.
This day Ile match thee to a matchlesse Knight.

Ali.
The Westerne Kight Sir, that was here last Term?

Ver.
Even he, this day he comes to Towne.

Ali.
Would I
Were out on't first. A matchlesse Knight
[Aside.]
Indeed, and shall be matchlesse still for me.

Ver.
I like those blushes well: I read his welcome
Upon her cheeks.

Ali.
Sir, I have heard, he has
But little Land.

Ver.
But he has Money Girle
Enough to buy the best Knights Land, that is
A selling Knight, in the West part of England.

Ali.
He's well in yeares.

Ver.
A lusty Batchelor of two and fifty,
With, O, the husbandry thats in him.

Ali.
How came he by his Knighthood? Cost it nothing?

Ver.
No: He was one oth' Cobbe-Knights in the throng,
When they were dubd in Clusters.

Enter Servant.
Ser.
Sir, the Knight,
That you expect this day, is come to Towne.
His man has brought's Portmantue.

Ver.
Fetch the Man.
The welcomst man alive is come to Towne.
Ally, my Girle, my Daughter, Lady Bride!
What title shall I give thee? Now bestirr you,
I know his thrift, he has rid hard to day
To save his Dinner
Enter Wat disguised like a Countrey Servingman.
Welcome honest freind.
And how does the right worshipfull Sir Amphilus?

Wat.
My Master is in health Sir; prays'd be Go—
A little weary, or so, as I am of my carriage,
Which I must not lay down, but in the hands
Of your owne Worship.

Ver.
Tis of weight and lock'd: I guesse the worth;
And warrant him the safety under these Keyes.
But where's thy Master?

Wat.
At his Inne in Holborne
Telling a little with the Host, till I
Bring word from you.

Ver.
No, I will run to him
My selfe: you shall stay here, his Chamber
Fitted against he comes, Ally, bestirr you,
And thinke no paines your trouble on this day,
To morrows Sun shall light your Wedding way.

Exit.
Ali.
Unlesse some unexpected Fate releive me,
I shall be hurried to my endlesse ruine.

Wat.
You are sad, me thinks, young Mistresse, I can tell you,
My Master, when he comes, will make you merry.

Ali.
How? As he is a Foole?

Wat.
No: But as he has
The soule of mirth and Musick at command;
Money, the all-rejoycing spirit; that
Hee'l make you merry with: Nor that alone,
But Dignity, which Women prise 'bove money,
You are a Lady by't: Mark that. And if
He has a weaknesse, which you reckon folly;
It laies you open way to Soveraignty;
The thing which is of most esteem. You'll be
His Lady Regent; rule all his, and him.

Ali.
This Fellow talkes not like a Serving-man:
A forty shilling wages Creature, but
Some disguis'd spokes-man. What may be the trick o'nt?

Wat.
You cannot, in th'estate you are, imagine
What tis to be a Wife to such a man.

Ali.
No more then you perceive the paines you loose
In fooling for him thus. But spare your breath,
And take this briefe tast of his Entertainment.
First know, that J do know the man you speak of,
To be a covetous Miser; old and foolish.
Not worth in my estimation the worst Meale
That ever he himselfe paid three pence for.

Wat.
Who do you mean? Sir Amphilus my Knight.

Ali.
Yes Squire, J know him and his qualities;
The waies he got his Wealth by, casuall Matches;
Of forty, fifty, and sometimes a hundred
For one. When bounteous Fortune (seldome failing
Men of his Brain) cast all into his mouth,
The Gudgeon gap'd for. And how slight a thing
It is, for such base Worldlings to be rich?
That study nothing but to scrape and save.
That have no Faith, but in their ready money,
Nor love to Worldly pleasures above those
Poor Coblers use.

Wat.
Cheap Whores, and Duck-hunting:
There's his delight indeed.

Ali.
J hate to think of of such a Dunghill Scarab.
A water-Dog Knight!

Wat.
But Wedlock, to his age, will bring him home
To choicer pleasures, and abandon such.

Ali.
His Age is fit for nothing, but to rock
Anothers Child; and to rejoyce through Spectacles,
At the strong Guesse he has, it is his owne.

Wat.
You slight him strangely yet: but when you see
Him, and his weighty reasons to confute you.—

Ali.
J will nor weigh, nor see him, or his reasons.
And if thou ow'st him so much Service, tell him;
Go back and tell him strait: save him the end
Of his intended Journey. For to come
Hither, will be to drive me hence. And tell
My Father, ere he shall enforce me, take him;
Ile flye into the Armes of one he hates.

Wat.
Are you in earnest?

Ali.
Yes, by all my hopes.

Wat.
These are the armes that must receive thee then.
Nay, be not frighted Sister; look, tis J.

Off his Beard, &c.
Ali.
Beshrew me but J am. How got you hither?
Could not the Compter hold you?

Wat.
So it seems,
My Virtue was not to be so obscur'd.
Noble Sir Humphrey Dryground, Sister, was
My franck Infranchiser. O, J have wonders
To tell thee Sister. Thou must go with me.
But first, lend me some money. Borrow some;
(And let it be a good Summe) of my Father,
Now in his absence. Come, supply, supply
My Pockets and thine owne. For we must hence.
Th'art made for ever, Sister. Quick, dispatch.

Ali.
What's the meaning of all this?

Wat.
Twill be too long to tell it here.
The Rascall foole, to whom my Father gives thee,
Is come to Towne: And should he now surprise thee,
Here in my Fathers power, thy strength might faile thee.
Be therefore at a sure Guard. O, Sir Humphrey,
How are my Sister and my selfe bound to thee,
That plottest this escape. Dispatch good Ally,
And heare thee rest by th' way.

Ali.
Why? Wither? What's the matter?

Wat.
Say thou will have that Coxcomb, Ile but kill thee,
And leave the here: And all my care is over.

Ali.
Ile sooner dye then have him.

Wat.
Why do you not shun him then? O, sweet Sir Humphrey,
Is thy care slighted thus, in my delivery?
In my disguise? In sending out my Father
On Tom-fooles Errant? While a Coach is sent
To the back-doore here; All to save my Sister,
My thanklesse Sister here, from worse then Rape.

Ali.
Why, whither would you have me?

Wat.
But hard-by.
But till the Wilde-fire of my Fathers Passion
Shall be run out. Slid, J had eene forgot.
Beare money with us, Sister; pretty store.
Who knowes occasions? Let him keep in pawne
My rich Portmantue for't.

Ali.
There's some good stuff in't.

Wat.
More then hee'll thank me for. Wee'll talke i'th' Coach
In, in, and furnish; & so through the Garden,
And, whirre, we are gone. If we should be prevented;
By this good steele, if J but heare one knock,
Jle make sure work o'thee. J can but trusse for't.
There's a faire end on's both. And what will he
Do with his money then? Look how thou standst.
Jf you respect your Father, or the Dog-Master,
To be your Husband, better then me, then take
You your owne course: Mine shall be known next Sessions.

Ali.
Better then you, don't you respect your Father
Better then me?

Wat.
No, if J do, let me be hang'd for nothing:
And that would anger any man I think.
'Slid, thou and J had one Mother, (which
We both take after) so had not he and we.
And he takes after no body, that J know.
He loves a stranger better then's owne Childe:
And that mans money, better then that man,
The Devill 'bove all J think. Thou dost not know
What Coales we stand on.

Ali.
Who shall look to th' house?

Wat.
Wilt loose thy selfe with keeping that? Is that
All now? Away, away.

Ali.
Y'are a precious Brother.—

Exeunt.