 | The New Academy, Or, the New Exchange |  |
Scœn. 2.
Enter Lady Nestlecock, Ephraim.La.
No newes, no tidings of 'em, Ephraim, ha!
Was ever such a 'scape?
Eph.
Not since the Rape
Of Hellen I ha perswaded. I have search't
With narrow eyes (as I may say) with care,
And diligence in most secret places.
And can no way inform my self, what is
Betide of the young Damosels, or old Squire.
Your Neece, and the French Virgin, and the man
La.
O hang him Villain.
Eph.
Doubtlesse 'twas his plot
To work upon your Ladiships good nature
To harbour them, that he might take th' advantage
Of stealing them away.
La.
What to do, ha?
Eph.
To do? much may be done, by his seducements,
On two such tender Virgins, though he should
But plant them in our suburbs: but my feare
Is that he has transported them beyond seas
Into some Nunnery. Your Ladiship
Knows he is adverse in Religion.
La.
I know he is of none.
Eph.
Satan will work.
The stronger in him, then to their subversion.
La.
How shall I answer now my brother Matchil?
But he is justly serv'd to marry so.
The thought of it torments me. Where's my comfort?
Where's Nehemiah, ha?
Eph.
He's busie, Madam.
La.
What, at his book? or at his musick, ha?
Eph.
That is, his Ballet, or his Jewes Trump, No,
Madam. He is busie at his exercise of Armes
With a new Casting top, a Cat and Catstick,
I bought and brought him home.
La.
I thank you for 'hem,
My careful discreet Ephraim, I like
His harmlesse exercises well.
Eph.
I hope,
Your Ladiship can say since I have had
The Government of him under your Ladiship,
I have been careful of the Gentleman,
And have his love withal so much, that I
Dare say (I hope you'll pardon the comparison)
That had you married me (which was as likely
I think that Mr. Nehemiah would not
Have run away in hatred of our Match,
As Mrs. Joyce. It seems, hath done of theirs.
I hope your Ladiships pardon, I understand
My duty.
La.
And you speak but reason Ephraim.
Eph.
I have given her there a touch of my affection.
Who knowes how it may work?
La.
Go call him in.
I would not have him over heat himself.
Eph.
'Tis a good care. And Madam, by the way,
Let me advise, that since his riper yeares
Require, and that faire Propositions
Of marriage are tender'd for him, that
We gently by degrees, do take him off
From childish exercise, indeed plaine boyes play.
More manly would become him.
La.
You would have him
Do worse then, would you? and be nought, you varlet?
What! would you have him play at Mans-game, ha?
'Fore he be married, ha! what, what! how now!
Is it but up and ride w'ye, ha!
Eph.
I humbly
Beseech your Ladiships pardon, I will call
Sweet Mr. Nehemiah to your worship.
La.
Go, th'art an honest man. I know thou lov'st
him.
Indeed he's all my comfort and my care
And I must naturally respect all those
That do partake with me my care of him.
Enter Nehemiah, looking down and eating.
Neh.
my boy Negh, Sonne Nehemiah.
Neh.
F'sooth.
That's my good Lamb. Hold up thy head;
and thou.
Neh.
But mother f'sooth, when I have her,
Will she play with me at peg-top?
La.
At any thing, my boy.
Neh.
And she ha' not good box and steel, I shall
so grull her.
La.
But when y'are married, you'll finde other pastime.
Neh.
Whate're I say, I have a meaning though.
But yet, I doubt, I shall not forsake all
My old fagaries in a yeare or two.
La.
I know thy will is good to leave thy wag-tricks.
And I commend your understanding in it.
It shewes you man, and ready for a wife.
Neh.
Amardla, f'sooth, I think so; I Amardla.
For I did beat a boy as high as my selfe
Yesterday, with one hand.
La.
Where was thy tother.
Neh.
The boy had but one hand f'sooth. I us'd
both.
La.
Well th'art too witty to live long, I feare.
But as I was saying, sonne, I do expect
Sir Swithen Whimlby to bring his Neece.
Neh.
Who f'sooth, the crying Knight, he that has
wept
Speaks nothing but in verse, and gives me Ballats;
The old Knight Powel, that pronounces what dee call 'hem?
La.
Odes childe and Elegies. He has been inspir'd.
With the infection of Poetry,
E're since his wives departure: and 'tis thought
But a new wife to kill the furious itch of't,
Neh.
But is not his Neece too big for me? I would
be loth
La.
O witty, witty, still.
But when she comes Nehemiah, What'll you say to her?
Neh.
I'll give her the time of the day or the night
I warrant her, come at what houre she will.
Why if I eat not all before she come.
(And she must try her, if I do'nt) I'll ask her
If she can speak with plums in her mouth; and then
I'll offer her a long one and two round ones,
And nod at her.
La.
You will not, will you, ha?
Neh.
Mother, I know both what to say and do
I trust I am not to be taught to wooe.
La.
Too witty still, I say, to be long-liv'd.
Neh.
But heark you mother f'sooth; I am told
that you
And a crosse match is talk't on betwixt you
And the old Knight, and me and his young Neece.
O ho—is't so?
La.
This is no crafty childe.
Neh.
Let me but see how you will handle him now
And mark how I'le come over her with small Jerks.
La.
O th'art a witty wag. A blessing on it.
Enter Ephraim, ushering Whimlby and Blith.
Eph.
Madam, Sir Swithen Whimlby and his Neece,
Mrs. Blith Tripshort.
La.
They are very welcome,
Noble Sir Swithen.
[Kisse.
Neh.
Noble Mrs. Blith.
[Kisse.
Sweet Knight, y'are welcome.
Neh.
Welcome, sweet Lady.
La.
Still weeping.
Whi.
O good Madam.
Neh.
Still weeping for a husband.
Bli.
Ha, ha, ha.
Neh.
Mother, she puts me on't,
She laughes.
La.
Laugh with her then.
Neh.
Amardla, so I will, and if you laugh
At me, I'll laugh at you again, so I will.
Bli.
Ha, ha.
Neh.
Are you there with me? I'le be here with
you then.
There's ha, ha, ha, ha, for you now.
La.
Do you note, Sir Swithin, what a wag it is.
Walk into the next room Nehemiah. Did you note him?
Ex. Neh. Blith.
Whi.
Madam, to tell you true.
My love to you
Springs from the joy,
I take in your sweet boy
Eph.
And that's the way to win her.
[Whi.]
I can take no delight
But in his sight,
Nor any pride
Since my dear Grissel di'd,
In all, I see on earth or finde in books,
But that which overcomes me in his lookes.
La.
O sweet Sir Swithen, you have all woo'd and won me.
Eph.
Then all my hopes are frustrate.
La.
My sonne shall have your Neece, and for mine
own part.
Whi.
Gentle Madam.
Eph.
She offers up her selfe; now may the proverb
Of proffer'd service light upon her.
La.
Nay, Sir Swithen.
Let me entreat you to leave weeping now.
Whi.
Madam, I cannot so
Forego my woe.
For while I strive
My solace to revive,
I do but still restore
My grief, before
That did beti'd
When my dear Grissel di'd.
And when your Ladiship appears in sight.
(Pardon) I cannot chuse but cry out-right.
La.
Alas, good Knight. He weeps pure Helicon.
He has not wherewithal to quench his love,
But his own teares. A wife would cool him better.
Why sir, does sight of me renew your grief?
Whi.
O Madam, Madam, yes;
In you the blisse,
That I do misse,
I finde inshrined is.
And till, to ease my paine,
I shall regain
In you the Bride,
That in my Grissel di'd.
So oft as she in you to me appears
My numbers cannot cease to flow in tears.
La.
Good sir, collect your self, and be assur'd
I am your own, so Neh. may have your Neece,
With her full Dowry of foure thousand pounds.
My personal estate is full as much.
That and my self are yours on the crosse marriage,
You making me an answerable Joincture.
Is't come so near; I'le crosse it, or my stars
Drop crosses on my head. O vain, vain woman,
To doat on Poetry in an old man.
Ladies may love it in the young and bold,
And when they are sick give gally-pots of gold,
For cordial Electuaries to chear
Their crop-sick Muses; but to an old and sere
Man that out-lives his labours, who can be
So vain to give her self away but she.
I had been sitter for her, and I'le watch
Occasion yet, perhaps, to crosse the match,
I can turn Poet too.
Ex.
La.
Dry now your eyes, and answer me in prose,
Are you content to yield to those conditions
I have propounded, ha!
VVhim.
I am content.
And now for joy could weep,
Finding my Grissel in your Ladiship.
La.
I hope the young ones do accord as well.
Enter Nehemiah, Blith.
Bli.
Protest, I cannot abide you.
Neh.
Nor I you.
Amardla, that I cannot.
Whim.
They'r agreed.
Madam, it seems they both are of one minde.
La.
I do not like it. What's the matter Nehemiah?
Neh.
She is no wife for me, she has broke my Jewes-trump;
look you here else. And almost broke my
head with one of my bounding stones.
La.
Blesse my boy; she has not, has she, ha!
Neh.
And yet after all that, and for all I offered to
teach her to shoot in my Trunk and my Stone-bowe,
do you think she would play with me at Trou, Madam?
no, nor at any thing else. I'll none of her.
as I would have her hereafter.
La.
There, do you note him there, Sir Swithen?
This childe has no childish meaning in't, I warrant
you.
Whim.
No, Madam, no, I know him inwardly
He is my joy, and she shall be conformable,
Or fare the worse.
La.
She will, I know she will.
Will you not have my son, sweet Mrs. Blith?
Bli.
Sweet Madam, what to do? ha, ha, I shall be
quickly weary with laughing at him. His fooling will
soon be stale and tedious; and then to beat him would
be as toilsome to me; and lastly, to be tied to nothing
but to cuckold him, is such a common Town-trick, that
I scorne to follow the fashion.
La.
Can she talk thus? ha!
Whim.
A merry harmlesse Girle.
Fear not, good Madam, she will come about.
Bli.
A thousand mile about rather then meet
him.
La.
I much desire she would; for now my sonne
Is set a marrying, I warrant it pure thing
It is in paine, till it be at it: ha!
Pray bring her on, Sir Swithen, let him kisse her.
Poor heart, he licks his lips; and look how arseward
she is.
Whi.
Fie Blith, be courteous, Blith.
Neh.
Mother,—she has spit Amard just in my
mouth.
Bli.
Amard, what's that? if you speak French you
wrong me.
La.
Gip, Mrs. Tripshort. Is this the manners your
Mother left you?
Bli.
Speak not you of Mothers, Madam.
La.
Sir Swithen, will you see my childe abus'd so, ha?
I can but grieve for't, Madam.
Neh.
My mother is as good as your mother, so she
is, for all she's dead.
La.
I, well-said Neh.
Bli.
Yes, it appears in your good breeding
Your fine qualities expresse her vertues sufficiently.
La.
How dare you Huswife talk thus to my son,
of me, and before my face too? ha! Sir Swithen, can
you think well of me, and suffer this, ha?
Whim.
Alas, good Madam, I am down again I know
not what to think of living woman now.
La.
Do you bring your Neece to abuse me?
Whim.
I am so drown'd in teares, that I cannot see
what to say to't.
Neh.
Mother, Amardla, the more I look on her, the
better I like her. La. Sayest so, my boy. Besides, I
have a conceit she can out-scold you, and that's more
then ever woman did, I think f'sooth.
La.
For thee, I do forbear her.
Enter Matchil, Rachel.
Mat.
By your leave, my Lady Nestlecock, I have
brought a sister of yours here to salute you.
La.
Though unworthy to be of your Counsel, or
at the Ceremony, I heard you were married brother.
And by a Sisters name you are welcome.
Rac.
I thank your Ladiship.
Mat.
Sir Swithen Whimlby! and your pretty Neece!
well met, what affairs have you in hand here? what
do you cry for your old wife still or for a new one?
But heark, you Lady Sister, where's my daughter?
La.
Now for a tempest. Truly sir, I know
not.
Mat.
Is she not with you, ha?
No truly, sir.
She's slipt from me with her good Uncle Strigood.
Mat.
That Thief has sold her then into some Bawdihouse.
Was this your project for her education,
To steal my childe to make a whore of her?
Are you turn'd Lady-baud now for your Neece
Because you have no daughter? O the devil!
If there be Law, I'll trounce your Lady Hagship.
La.
VVhat, what? how now? do you taunt me,
sirrah, ha?
Mat.
I'll make thee an example.
La.
Thou hast made thy self an example, and the
scorne of thine own childe in marrying of thy drudge
there; and thats the cause of her running away thou
mayest think, because she hates to live where she must
call her mother that was thy droile.
Ra.
Droile, I think, she said.
Mat.
Speak to her, I charge thee, on thy obedience
to speak to her.
Ra.
The droile is now your brothers wife, Madam,
and in that setting your Ladiships lavish tongue aside, as
good a woman as your selfe, none disprais'd, ha.
Mat.
Well-said Rachel, hold thine own Rachel. And
so to you, sir Swithen.
Neh.
Mother, come away, mother.
La.
By and by, my boy.
Rac.
Do you presume to call me drudge and droile,
that am a Ladies Sister every day in the week; and have
been any time these three dayes, ha.
Bli.
That's not every day in a whole week
yet.
La.
Thou shalt not dare to call me sister Huswife.
Ra.
Cods so, and why troe? because a Lady scornes to
be a huswife, ha. If you be no huswife, I scorn to call
From whence came you troe, ha?
La.
I know not what to say to the bold-face.
Neh.
Pray f'sooth come away, I am afear'd she'l
beat you.
La.
Thanks, my good childe, but do not be afraid
my Lamb.
Ra.
Boldface, ha! Her brothers wife's a bold-face,
but her face is not varnish't over, yet like his Lady-sisters
face, but it may be in time when she learnes the
trick on't, and have as many flies upon't, though not
so troubled with 'hem, as a bald mare at Midsummer,
hah.
La.
I know not what to say to her, she has charm'd
the vertue of my tongue.
Mat.
I never heard her speak so much in all her
life, Sir Swithin, nor half so loud. Thank heaven, she
has a voice yet on a good occasion. And so farre I'll
maintain her in it. Nephew Nehemiah, when saw you
your Cousin Joyce.
Neh.
O Lud, O mother f'sooth, look you, mine
Uncle holds me.
Mat.
Ah, naughty man, did a so gi'me a stroke, and
I'll beat it, ah—.
La.
Your wife has taught you to play the rude
companion, has she? Pray take her home sir, and let
her discipline your owne childe if you have one, and
let mine alone. You know the way you came, sir;
or if you have a minde to stay here, Come Sir Swithen,
come away children. I hope I shall finde some other
room in mine own house, free from your assaults, if
not, I'm sure there's Law against Riots. Come Sir
Swithen.
Mat.
Not yet good Madam Nestlecock, you shall
hear me.
And your small worme here, to catch up for Gudgeons.
Sir Swithen and his Neece, I know your plot.
She's not fit match for you Sir Swithen; and her son
Much lesse for your faire Neece. Come dry your eyes,
And look upon him, and not only look,
But laugh at him, I charge you.
Bli.
I could now for him heartily.
Mat.
Mark how his mothers milk drops at his
nose, while I shew you the mother and the childe.
He was her youngest sonne, and all that's left of
seven, and dreaming that he needs must prove a Prophet,
she has bred him up a fool.
Neh.
F'sooth mother he mocks me, oh.—
La.
O prophane wretch, worse then thy brother
Strigood.
Do not cry, Nehemiah, peace, good boy, peace. So
so.
Mat.
A tender mother I must say she has been.
For till he was fifteen, none but her selfe
Must look his head, or wash his pretty face
For making of it cry. Laugh at her good Sir Swithen.
And before that, till he was twelve yeares old
She would dance him on her knee, and play with's
Cock.
Whim.
Ah ah ah ah.—
Mat.
So well-said, Sir Swithen.
Whim.
Just so efac my mother would serve me, ha, ha.
Is not this better then whining.
Yes, or perhaps then wiving either.
Rac.
Do you say so.
Wh.
Ha, ha.
Mat.
Well said, Sir Swithen, laugh on.
I hope I ha' done a cure on him, by shewing him a
of's tears.
Wh.
Ha, ha.
Mat.
Laugh still, defie the fiends, women, and all
their works.
Wh.
Ha, ha, ha, let the dead go, and the quick care
for themselves. You buri'd your wife, and cri'd, and
I buried mine.
Ra.
He knows not that he is married agen.
Whi.
You are the merriest Merchant, ha, ha, ha.
I think I shall not marry again in haste, ha, ha.
Mat.
Well-said, hold there. And for your Neece
Let me alone. I'le fit her with a match.
I know a Lad that's worthy of her.
Whi.
Ha, ha, ha.—
Mat.
He'll laugh too much, I feare.
Ra.
He may at you,
For your officiousnesse.
Mat.
How's that?
Whi.
Ha, ha.—
Ra.
To thrust your self into unthankful offices.
In things concerne you not. Will you turne Match-maker
For others un-intreated, tis enough.
For you, I hope, that you have match't your selfe,
ha.
Mat.
Hah! Do you hah, or talk to me?
Ra.
Who else
Should talk or give you counsel but your wife?
La.
VVell-said Rachel, hold thine own Rachel.
Mat.
I am match't again.
Whi.
Ha, ha, ha.
Mat.
Pax, cry again, or burst thy self with laughing.
Whi., La.
Ha, ha, ha. Laugh son Nehemiah.
Neh.
Ha, ha, ha.
What am I? what do you make of me?
La.
Nay, what ha' you made your self? best ask
the Chimney piece that you have married there.
Mat.
Durst thou advance a voice against me, ha?
Ra.
You did commend it in me against your Sister.
And I may better be familiar with you;
Hah, are you not my husband? I am sure
'Tis not so long since we were married, that
You can forget it, or repent so soon.
I am not now your slave, to have my face
Wash't with your snuffes, nor to be kick't and trod on
VVithout resistance, nor to make you answers
Meerly with silent court'sies, run when you bid go
To fetch and carry like your Spaniel,
In which condition I liv'd long enough,
And was content until you freed me out on't.
Now free I am, and will be a free woman,
As you are a free-man, ha.
Whi.
Ha, ha, ha.
Mat.
O base-borne begger.
Ra.
You wrong your wife in that.
Mat.
How she holds up the wife.
Ra.
I never beg'd
Nor mov'd a lip to be your wife, not I,
You held my service portion good enough,
And for my blood 'tis no more base then yours,
Since both are mixt in marriage.
Mat.
Come your way.
And let me hear you speak so much at home.
Ra.
I hope I may be bolder in mine own house.
So Madam, for the love I have found in yours,
You shall be welcome thither, when y' are sent for.
La.
What a bold piece of Kitchin-stuffe is this?
Brothery' are match't.
And catch't isac la, ha, ha, ha.
La.
He has not a word to speak.
Mat.
Follow me home and durst.
Ex.
Ra.
Yes, sir, I dare without more leave taking,
ha.
Ex.
La.
Was ever combe so cut.
Whi.
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Neh.
There's a new Aunt indeed! she brought me
nothing.
Whi.
I have not laught so much I know not when,
H'has made me laugh until I cry agen.
La.
Again, you are welcom, Sir, Mrs. Blith
Now the unwelcome guests are gone, lets in
And dine, then will we after meat
Whi.
Of Joinctures, Madam, and of Nuptials
treat.
La.
Right sir.
Bli.
Love, as I shall adore thee for a deity.
Rid me of this ridiculous society.
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