University of Virginia Library

Scene 5.

-Nurse.
(To them.
That magot, worme, that insect! O my child,
My daughter! where's that Fly? He fly in his face,
The vermin, let me come to him.

Fly.
Why Nurse Shelee?

Nur.
Hang thee thou Parasite, thou sonne of crums,
And ortes, thou hast vndone me, and my child,
My daughter, my deare daughter.

Ho.
What meanes this?

Nur.
O Sir, my daughter, my deare child is ruin'd,
By this your Fly, here, married in a stable,
And sold vnto a husband.

Host.
Stint thy cry,
Harlot, if that be all, did'st thou not sell him
To me for a boy? and brought'st him in boyes rags,
Here to my doore, to beg an almes of me?

Nur.
I did good Mr, and I craue your pardon.
But 'tis my daughter, and a girle.

Host.
Why sayd'st thou
It was a boy, and sold'st him then, to me
With such entreaty, for ten shillings, Carlin?

Nur.
Because you were a charitable man
I heard, good Mr, and would breed him well,
I would ha' giu'n him you, for nothing, gladly.
Forgiue the lie o' my mouth, it was to saue
The fruit o' my wombe. A parents needs are vrgent.
And few doe know that tyrant o're good natures.
But you relieu'd her, and me too, the Mother,
And tooke me into your house to be the nurse,
For which heauen heape all blessings on your head,
Whilst there can one be added.

Host.
Sure thou speakst
Quite like another creature, then th'hast liu'd,
Here, i'the house, a Shelee-neen-Thomas,
An Irish beggar.

Nur.
So I am, God helpe me.

Host.
What art thou? tell, The match is a good match,
For ought I see: ring the bels once a gaine.

Bea.
Stint, I say, Fidlers.

Lad.
No going off my Lord.

Bea.
Nor comming on sweet Lady, things thus standing!

Fly.
But what's the haynousnesse of my offence?
Or the degrees of wrong you suffer'd by it?
In hauing your daughter match't thus happily,
Into a noble house, a braue yong blood,
And a prime peere o'the Realme?

Bea.
Was that your plot, Fly?
Gi' me a cloak, take her againe among you.
Ile none of your light-Heart fosterlings, no Inmates,
Supposititious fruits of an Host's braine,
And his Fly's hatching, to be put vpon me.
There is a royall Court o'the Star-chamber
Will scatter all these mists, disperse these vapours,
And cleare the truth. Let beggers match with beggers.
That shall decide it, I will try it there.

Nur.
Nay then my Lord; Its not enough, I see
You are licentious, but you will be wicked.
Yo' are not alone content to take my daughter,
Against the law; but hauing taken her,
You would repudiate, and cast her off,
Now, at your pleasure, like a beast of power,
Without all cause, or colour of a cause,
That, or a noble, or an honest man,
Should dare t'except against, her pouerty.
Is pouerty a vice?

Bea.
Th'age counts it so.

Nur.
God helpe your Lordship, and your peeres that think so,
If any be: if not, God blesse them all,
And helpe the number o'the vertuous,
If pouerty be a crime. You may obiect
Our beggery to vs, as an accident,
But neuer deeper, no inherent basenesse.
And I must tell you, now, yong Lord of durt,
As an incensed mother, she hath more,
And better blood, running i'those small veines,
Then all the race of Beauforts haue in masse,
Though they distill their drops from the left rib
Of Iohn o' Gaunt.

Host.
Old mother o' records,
Thou know'st her pedegree, then: whose daughter is she?

Nur.
The daughter and coheire to the Lord Frampull,
This Ladies sister!

Lad.
Mine? what is her name?

Nur.
Lætitia.

Lad
That was lost?

Nur.
The true Lætitia.

Lad.
Sister, O gladnesse! Then you are our mother?

Nur.
I am, deare daughter.

Lad.
On my knees, I blesse
The light I see you by.

Nur.
And to the author
Of that blest light, I ope my other eye,
Which hath almost, now, seuen yeare beene shut,
Darke, as my vow was, neuer to see light,
Till such a light restor'd it, as my children,
Or your deare father, who (I heare) is not.

Bea.
Giue me my wife, I owne her now, and will haue her.

Host.
But you must aske my leaue first, my yong Lord,
Leaue is but light. Ferret, Goe bolt your Master,
Here's geare will startle him. I cannot keepe
The passion in me, I am eene turn'd child,
And I must weepe. Fly, take away mine host,
My beard, and cap here, from me, and fetch my Lord.
I am her father, Sir, and you shall now
Aske my consent, before you haue her. Wife!
My deare and louing wife! my honor'd wife!
Who here hath gain'd but I? I am Lord Frampull,
The cause of all this trouble? I am he
Haue measur'd all the Shires of England ouer:
Wales, and her mountaines, seene those wilder nations,
Of people in the Peake, and Lancashire;
Their Pipers, Fidlers, Rushers, Puppet-masters,
Iuglers, and Gipseys, all the sorts of Canters,
And Colonies of beggars, Tumblers, Ape-carriers,
For to these sauages I was addicted,
To search their natures, and make odde discoueries!
And here my wife, like a she Mandeuile,
Ventred in disquisition, after me.

Nur.
I may looke vp, admire, I cannot speake
Yet, to my Lord.

Host.
Take heart, and breath, recouer,
Thou hast recouer'd me, who here had coffin'd
My selfe aliue, in a poore hostelry,
In pennance of my wrongs done vnto thee
Whom I long since gaue lost.

Nur.
So did I you,
Till stealing mine owne daughter from her sister,
I lighted on this errour hath cur'd all.

Bea.
And in that cure, include my trespasse, Mother,
And Father, for my wife—

Host.
No, the Star-chamber.

Bea.
Away with that, you sowre the sweetest lettice
Was euer tasted.

Host.
Gi'you ioy, my Sonne,
Cast her not off againe. O call me Father,
Lovel, and this your Mother, if you like:
But take your Mistris, first, my child; I haue power
To giue her now, with her consent, her sister
Is giuen already to your brother Beaufort.

Lov.
Is this a dreame now, after my first sleepe?
Or are these phant'sies made i'the light Heart?
And sold i'the new Inne?

Host.
Best goe to bed,
And dreame it ouer all. Let's all goe sleepe,
Each with his Turtle. Fly, prouide vs lodgings,
Get beds prepar'd: yo' are master now o'the Inne,
The Lord o'the light Heart, I giue it you.
Fly, was my fellow Gipsey. All my family,
Indeed, were Gipseys, Tapsters, Ostlers, Chamberlaines,
Reduced vessels of ciuility.
But here stands Pru, neglected, best deseruing
Of all that are i'the house, or i'my Heart,
Whom though I cannot helpe to a fit husband,
Ile helpe to that will bring one, a iust portion:
I haue two thousand pound in banke, for Pru,
Call for it when she will.

Bea.
And I as much.

Host.
There's somewhat yet, foure thousand pound!
Then sounds the prouerbe, foure bare legs in a bed. that's better,

Lov.
Me, and her mistresse, she hath power to coyne
Vp, into what she will.

Lad.
Indefinite Pru.

Lat.
But I must doe the crowning act of bounty!

Host.
What's that, my Lord?

Lat.
Giue her my selfe, which here
By all the holy vowes of loue I doe,
Spare all your promis'd portions, she is a dowry
So all sufficient in her vertue and manners,
That fortune cannot adde to her.

Pru.
My Lord,
Your praises, are instructions to mine eares,
Whence, you haue made your wife, to liue your seruant.

Host.
Lights, get vs seuerall lights.

Lov.
Stay let my Mr s
But heare my vision sung, my dreame of beauty,
Which I haue brought, prepar'd, to bid vs ioy,
And light vs all to bed, 'twill be instead
Of ayring of the sheets with a sweet odour.

Host.
'Twill be an incense to our sacrifice
Of loue to night, where I will woo afresh,
And like Mecænas, hauing but one wife,
Ile marry her, euery houre of life, hereafter.

They goe out, with a Song.