 | The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd |  |
9
Act I.
Scene I.
Compasse, Ironside.Com.
Welcome good Captaine Ironside, and brother;
You shall along with me. I'm lodg'd hard by,
Here at a noble Ladies house i'th' street,
The Lady Loadstones (one will bid us welcome)
Where there are Gentlewomen, and male Guests,
Of severall humors, cariage, constitution,
Profession too: but so diametrall
One to another, and so much oppos'd,
As if I can but hold them all together,
And draw 'hem to a sufferance of themselves,
But till the Dissolution of the Dinner;
I shall have just occasion to beleeve
My wit is magisteriall; and our selves
Take infinite delight, i'the successe.
Iro.
Troth, brother Compasse, you shall pardon me;
I love not so to multiply acquaintance
At a meales cost, 'twill take off o' my freedome
So much: or bind me to the least observance.
Com.
Why Ironside, you know I am a Scholler,
And part a Souldier; I have beene imployed,
By some the greatest States-men o' the kingdome,
These many yeares: and in my time convers'd
With sundry humors, suiting so my selfe
To company, as honest men, and knaves,
Good-fellowes, Hypocrites, all sorts of people,
Though never so divided in themselves,
Have studied to agree still in the usage,
And handling of me (which hath beene faire too.)
Iro.
Sir I confesse you to be one well read
In men, and manners; and that, usually,
10
Rather subject themselves unto your censure,
Then give you least occasion of distaste,
By making you the subject of their mirth:
But (to deale plainely with you, as a brother)
When ever I distrust i'my owne valour:
Ile never beare me on anothers wit,
Or offer to bring off, or save my selfe
On the opinion of your Iudgement, gravitie,
Discretion, or what else. But (being away)
You'are sure to have lesse-wit-worke, gentle brother,
My humour being as stubborne, as the rest,
And as unmannageable.
Com.
You doe mistake
My Caract of your friendship, all this while!
Or at what rate I reckon your assistance
Knowing by long experience, to such Animals,
Halfe-hearted Creatures, as these are, your Foxe, there,
Vnkenneld with a Cholerick, ghastly aspect,
Or two or three comminatory Termes,
Would run their feares to any hole of shelter,
Worth a dayes laughter! I am for the sport:
For nothing else.
Iro.
But, brother, I ha' seene
A Coward, meeting with a man as valiant
As our St. George (not knowing him to be such,
Or having least opinion that hee was so)
Set to him roundly, I, and swindge him soundly:
And i'the vertue of that errour, having
Once overcome, resolv'd for ever after
To erre; and thinke no person, nor no creature
More valiant then himselfe.
Com.
I thinke that too.
But, Brother, (could I over intreat you)
I have some little plot upon the rest
If you would be contented, to endure
A sliding reprehension, at my hands,
To heare your selfe, or your profession glanc'd at
In a few sleighting termes: It would beget
Me such a maine Authority, o' the by:
And doe your selfe no dis-repute at all!
Iro.
Compasse, I know that universall causes
In nature produce nothing; but as meeting
Particular causes, to determine those,
And specifie their acts. This is a piece
Of Oxford Science, staies with me ere since
I left that place; and I have often found
The truth thereof, in my private passions:
For I doe never feele my selfe perturb'd
With any generall words 'gainst my profession,
Vnlesse by some smart stroke upon my selfe
They doe awake, and stirre me: Else, to wise
And well experienc'd men, words doe but signifie;
11
Whose soules are nought, but a Syntaxis of them.
Com.
Here comes our Parson, Parson Palate here
A venerable youth! I must salute him,
And a great Clerke! hee's going to the Ladies,
And though you see him thus, without his Cope,
I dare assure you, hee's our Parish Pope!
God save my reverend Clergy, Parson Palate.
Scene II.
Palate, Compasse, Ironside.Pal.
The witty Mr. Compasse! how is't, with you?
Com.
My Lady staies for you, and for your Councell,
Touching her Neice Mrs. Placentia Steele!
Who strikes the fire of full fourteene, to day,
Ripe for a husband.
Pal.
I, she chimes, shee chimes,
Saw you the Doctor Rut, the house Physician?
He's sent for too.
Com.
To Councell? 'time yo' were there.
Make haste, and give it a round quick dispatch:
That wee may goe to dinner betimes, Parson:
And drinke a health, or two more, to the busines.
Iro.
This is a strange put-off! a reverend youth,
You use him most surreverently me thinkes!
What? call you him? Palate Please? or Parson Palate?
Com.
All's one, but shorter! I can gi' you his Character.
Hee, is the Prelate of the Parish, here;
And governes all the Dames; appoints the cheere;
Writes downe the bils of fare; pricks all the Guests;
Makes all the matches and the marriage feasts
Within the ward; drawes all the parish wils;
Designes the Legacies; and strokes the Gills
Of the chiefe Mourners; And (who ever lacks)
Of all the kindred, hee hath first his blacks.
Thus holds hee weddings up, and burials,
As his maine tithing; with the Gossips stals,
Their pewes; He's top still, at the publique messe;
Comforts the widow, and the fatherlesse,
In funerall Sack! Sits 'bove the Alderman!
For of the Ward-mote Quest, he better can,
The mysterie, then the Levitick Law:
That peece of Clark-ship doth his Vestry awe.
Hee is as he conceives himselfe, a fine
Well furnish'd, and apparaled Divine.
Iro.
Who made this Epigramme, you?
Com.
No, a great Clarke
As any'is of his bulke. (Ben: Ionson) made it.
Iro.
But what's the other Character, Doctor Rut?
12
The same man made 'hem both: but his is shorter,
And not in rime, but blancks. Ile tell you that, too.
Rut is a young Physician to the family:
That, letting God alone, ascribes to nature
More then her share; licentious in discourse,
And in his life a profest Voluptary;
The slave of money, a Buffon in manners;
Obscene in language; which he vents for wit;
Is sawcy in his Logicks, and disputing,
Is any thing but civill, or a man.
See here they are! and walking with my Lady,
In consultation, afore the doore;
Wee will slip in, as if we saw 'hem not.
Scene III.
Lady, Palate, Rut.Lad.
I, tis his fault, she's not bestow'd,
My brother Interests.
Pal.
Who, old Sir Moath?
Lad.
Hee keeps off all her Suitors, keepes the portion,
Still in his hands: and will not part with all,
On any termes.
Pal.
Hinc illæ lachrymæ
Thence flowes the cause o' the maine grievance.
Rut.
That
It is a maine one! how much is the portion?
Lad.
No petty summe.
Pal.
But sixteene thousand pound.
Rut.
He should be forc'd, Madam, to lay it downe.
When is it payable?
Lad.
When she is married.
Pal.
Marry her, marry her, Madam.
Rut.
Get her married.
Loose not a day, an houre—
Pal.
Not a minute.
Pursue your project reall. Mr. Compasse,
Advis'd you, too. He is the perfect Instrument,
Your Ladiship should saile by.
Rut.
Now, Mr. Compasse
Is a fine witty man; I saw him goe in, now.
Lad.
Is hee gone in?
Pal.
Yes, and a Fether with him,
He seemes a Souldier.
Rut.
Some new Sutor, Madam.
Lad.
I am beholden to him: hee brings ever
Variety of good persons to my table,
And I must thanke him, though my brother Interest
Dislike of it a little.
Pal.
Hee likes nothing
That runs your way.
Rut.
Troth, and the other cares not.
Hee'll goe his owne way, if he thinke it right.
Lad.
Hee's a true friend! and ther's Mr. Practise,
The fine young man of Law comes to the house:
My brother brooks him not, because he thinkes
He is by me assigned for my Neice:
Hee will not heare of it.
Rut.
Not of that eare:
But yet your Ladiship doth wisely in it—
13
'Twill make him to lay downe the portion sooner,
If he but dreame you'l match her with a Lawyer.
Lad.
So Mr. Compasse sayes. It is betweene
The Lawyer, and the Courtier, which shall have her.
Bal.
Who, Sir Diaphanous Silke-worme?
Rut.
A fine Gentle-man.
Old Mr. Silke-wormes Heire.
Pal.
And a neat Courtier,
Of a most elegant thred
Lad.
And so my Gossip
Polish assures me. Here she comes! good Polish
Welcome in troth! How do'st thou gentle Polish?
Rut.
Who's this?
Pal.
Dame Polish, her shee-Parasite,
Her talking, soothing, sometime governing Gossip.
Scene IV.
Polish, Lady, Palate, Rut.Pal.
Your Ladiship is still the Lady Loadstone
That drawes, and drawes unto you, Guests of all sorts:
The Courtiers, and the Souldiers, and the Schollers,
The Travellers, Physicians, and Divines,
As Doctor Ridley writ, and Doctor Barlow?
They both have wrote of you, and Mr. Compasse.
Lad.
Wee meane, they shall write more, ere it be long.
Pol.
Alas, they are both dead, and't please you; But,
Your Ladiship meanes well, and shall meane well,
So long as I live. How does your fine Neice?
My charge, Mistris Placentia Steele?
Lad.
Shee is not well.
Pol.
Not well?
Lad.
Her Doctor sayes so.
Rut.
Not very well; shee cannot shoot at Buts.
Or manage a great Horse, but shee can cranch
A sack of small coale! eat you lime, and haire,
Soap-ashes, Loame, and has a dainty spice
O' the greene sicknesse!
Pol.
'Od sheild!
Rut.
Or the Dropsie!
A toy, a thing of nothing. But my Lady, here
Her noble Aunt.
Pol.
Shee is a noble Aunt!
And a right worshipfull Lady, and a vertuous;
I know it well!
Rut.
Well, if you know it, peace.
Pal.
Good sister Polish heare your betters speake.
Pol.
Sir I will speake, with my good Ladies leave,
And speake, and speake againe; I did bring up
My Ladies Neice, Mrs. Placentia Steele,
With my owne Daughter (who's Placentia too)
And waits upon my Lady, is her woman:
Her Ladiship well knowes Mr s. Placentia
Steele (as I said) her curious Neice, was left
A Legacie to me; by Father, and Mother
With the Nurse, Keepe, that tended her: her Mother
Shee died in Child-bed of her, and her Father
Liv'd not long after: for he lov'd her Mother!
14
(As wee must all.) No creature is immortall;
I have heard our Pastor say: no, not the faithfull!
And they did die (as I said) both in one moneth.
Rut.
Sure shee is not long liv'd, if she spend breath thus.
Pol.
And did bequeath her, to my care, and hand,
To polish, and bring up. I moulded her,
And fashion'd her, and form'd her; she had the sweat
Both of my browes and braines. My Lady knowes it
Since she could write a quarter old.
Lad.
I know not
That she could write so early, my good Gossip.
But I doe know she was so long your care,
Till she was twelve yeare old; that I call'd for her,
And tooke her home, for which I thanke you Polish,
And am beholden to you.
Rut.
I sure thought
She had a Lease of talking, for nine lives—
Pal.
It may be she has.
Pol.
Sir sixteene thousand pound
Was then her portion! for she was, indeed,
Their only child! and this was to be paid
Vpon her marriage, so she married still
With my good Ladies liking here, her Aunt:
(I heard the Will read) Mr. Steele her father,
The world condemn'd him to be very rich,
And very hard, and he did stand condemn'd
With that vaine world, till, as 'twas 'prov'd, after,
He left almost as much more to good uses
In Sir Moath Interests hands, my Ladies brother,
Whose sister he had married: He holds all
In his close gripe. But Mr. Steele, was liberall,
And a fine man; and she a dainty Dame,
And a religious, and a bountifull—
Scene V.
To them.Compasse, Ironside.
[Pol.]
You knew her Mr. Compasse?
Com.
Spare the torture,
I doe confesse without it.
Pol.
And her husband,
What a fine couple they were? and how they liv'd?
Com.
Yes.
Pol.
And lov'd together, like a paire of Turtles?
Com.
Yes.
Pol.
And feasted all the Neighbours?
Com.
Take her off
Some body that hath mercy.
Rut.
O he knowes her,
It seemes!
Com.
Or any measure of compassion:
Doctors, if you be Christians, undertake
One for the soule, the other for the body!
Pol.
She would dispute with the Doctors of Divinity
At her owne table! and the Spitle Preachers!
And find out the Armenians.
Rut.
The Armenians?
15
I say the Armenians.
Com.
Nay, I say so too!
Pol.
So Mr. Polish calld 'hem, the Armenians!
Com.
And Medes, and Persians did he not?
Pol.
Yes, he knew 'hem,
And so did Mistris Steele! she was his Pupill!
The Armenians, he would say, were worse then Papists!
And then the Persians, were our Puritanes,
Had the fine piercing wits!
Com.
And who, the Medes?
Pol.
The midle men, the Luke-warme Protestants?
Rut.
Out, out.
Pol.
Sir she would find them by their branching:
Their branching sleeves, brancht cassocks, and brancht doctrine,
Beside their Texts.
Rut.
Stint Karlin: Ile not heare,
Confute her Parson.
Pol.
I respect no Persons,
Chaplins, or Doctors, I will speake.
Lad.
Yes, so't be reason,
Let her.
Rut.
Death, she cannot speake reason.
Com.
Nor sense, if we be Masters of our senses!
Iro.
What mad woman ha' they got, here, to bate?
Pol.
Sir I am mad, in truth, and to the purpose;
And cannot but be mad; to heare my Ladies
Dead sister sleighted, witty Mrs. Steele!
Iro.
If shee had a wit, Death has gone neere to spoile it,
Assure your selfe.
Pol.
She was both witty, and zealous,
And lighted all the Tinder o' the truth,
(As one said) of Religion, in our Parish:
Shee was too learn'd to live long with us!
She could the Bible in the holy tongue:
And reade it without pricks: had all her Masoreth;
Knew Burton, and his Bull; and scribe Prin-Gent!
Præsto-be-gon: and all the Pharisees.
Lad.
Deare Gossip,
Be you gone, at this time, too, and vouchsafe
To see your charge, my Neice.
Pol.
I shall obey
If your wise Ladiship thinke fit: I know,
To yeild to my Superiors.
Lad.
A good woman!
But when she is impertinent, growes earnest,
A litle troublesome, and out of season:
Her love, and zeale transport her.
Com.
I am glad,
That any thing could port her hence. Wee now
Have hope of dinner, after her long grace.
I have brought your Ladiship a hungry Guest, here,
A Souldier, and my brother Captaine Ironside:
Who being by custome growne a Sanguinarie,
The solemne, and adopted sonne of slaughter:
Is more delighted i' the chase of an enemy,
An execution of three daies, and nights;
Then all the hope of numerous succession,
Or happinesse of Issue could bring to him.
Rut.
Hee is no Suitor then?
Pol.
So't should seeme.
Com.
And, if hee can get pardon at heavens hand,
For all his murthers, is in as good case
As a new christned Infant: (his imployments
Continu'd to him, without Interruption;
16
To commit any other sinne, but those)
Please you to make him welcome for a meale, Madam.
Lad.
The noblenesse of his profession makes
His welcome perfect: though your course description
Would seeme to sully it.
Iro.
Never, where a beame
Of so much favour doth illustrate it,
Right knowing Lady.
Pal.
She hath cur'd all well.
Rut.
And hee hath fitted well the Complement.
Scene VI.
To them.Sir Diaphanous. Practise.
Com.
No; here they come! the prime Magnetick Guests
Our Lady Loadstone so respects: the Artick!
And th'Antartick! Sir Diaphanous Silke-worme!
A Courtier extraordinary; who by diet
Of meates, and drinkes; his temperate exercise;
Choise musick; frequent bathes; his horary shifts
Of Shirts and Wast-coats; meanes to immortalize
Mortality it selfe; and makes the essence
Of his whole happinesse the trim of Court.
Dia.
I thanke you Mr. Compasse, for your short
Encomiastick.
Rut.
It is much in little, Sir.
Pal.
Concise, and quick: the true stile of an Orator.
Com.
But Mr. Practise here, my Ladies Lawyer!
Or man of Law: (for that's the true writing)
A man so dedicate to his profession,
And the preferments goe along with it;
As scarce the thundring bruit of an invasion,
Another eighty eight, threatning his Countrey
With ruine; would no more worke upon him,
Then Syracusa's Sack, on Archimede:
So much he loves that Night-cap! the Bench-gowne!
With the broad Guard o'th back! These shew
A man betroth'd unto the study of our Lawes!
Pra.
Which you but thinke the crafty impositions,
Of subtile Clerks, feats of fine understanding,
To abuse Clots, and Clownes with, Mr. Compasse,
Having no ground in nature, to sustaine it
Or light, from those cleare causes: to the inquiry
And search of which, your Mathematicall head,
Hath so devow'd it selfe.
Com.
Tut, all men are
Philosophers, to their inches. There's within,
Sir Interest, as able a Philosopher,
In buying, and selling! has reduc'd his thrifte,
To certaine principles, and i'that method!
As hee will tell you instantly, by Logarythmes,
17
(Be the Commoditie what it will) the place,
Or time, but causing very, very little,
Or, I may say, no paralaxe at all,
In his pecuniary observations!
He has brought your Neices portion with him, Madam;
At least the man that must receive it; Here
They come negotiating the affaire;
You may perceive the Contract in their faces;
And read th'indenture: If you'ld signe 'hem. So.
Scene VII.
To them.Interest. Bias.
Pal.
What is he, Mr. Compasse?
Com.
A Vi-politique!
Or a sub-aiding Instrument of State!
A kind of a laborious Secretary
To a great man! (and likely to come on)
Full of attendance! and of such a stride
In busines politique, or œconomick,
As, well, his Lord may stoope t'advise with him,
And be prescribed by him, in affaires
Of highest consequence, when hee is dull'd,
Or wearied with the lesse.
Dia.
'Tis Mr. Bias,
Lord Whach'um's Politique.
Com.
You know the man?
Dia.
I ha' seene him waite at Court, there, with his Maniples
Of papers, and petitions.
Pra.
Hee is one
That over-rules tho', by his authority
Of living there; and cares for no man else:
Neglects the sacred letter of the Law;
And holds it all to be but a dead heape,
Of civill institutions: the rest only
Of common men, and their causes, a farragoe,
Or a made dish in Court; a thing of nothing:
Com.
And that's your quarrell at him? a just plea.
Int.
I tell you sister Loadstone—
Com.
(Hang your eares
This way: and heare his praises, now Moath opens)
Int.
I ha'brought you here the very man! the Jewell
Of all the Court! close Mr. Bias! Sister,
Apply him to your side! or you may weare him
Here o' your brest! or hang him in your eare!
He's a fit Pendant for a Ladies tip!
A Chrisolite, a Gemme: the very Agat
Of State, and Politie: cut from the Quar
Of Macchiavel, a true Cornelian,
As Tacitus himselfe! and to be made
The brooch to any true State-cap in Europe!
Lad.
You praise him brother, as you had hope to sell him.
18
No Madam, as hee had hope to sell your Neice
Vnto him.
Lad.
'Ware your true jests, Mr. Compasse;
They will not relish.
Int.
I will tell you, sister,
I cannot cry his Carract up enough:
He is unvaluable: All the Lords
Have him in that esteeme, for his relations,
Corrant's, Avises, Correspondences
With this Ambassadour, and that Agent! Hee
Will screw you out a Secret from a Statist—.
Com.
So easie, as some Cobler wormes a Dog.
Int.
And lock it in the Cabinet of his memory—.
Com.
Till 't turne a politique insect, or a Fly!
Thus long.
Int.
You may be merry Mr. Compasse,
But though you have the reversion of an office,
You are not in't Sir.
Bia.
Remember that.
Com.
Why, should that fright me, Mr. Bi---, from telling
Whose as you are?
Int.
Sir he's one, can doe
His turnes there: and deliver too his letters,
As punctually, and in as good a fashion,
As ere a Secretary can in Court.
Iro.
Why, is it any matter in what fashion
A man deliver his letters, so he not open 'hem?
Bia.
Yes, we have certaine precedents in Court,
From which wee never swerve, once in an age:
And (whatsoere he thinkes) I know the Arts,
And Sciences doe not directlier make
A Graduate in our Vniversities;
Then an habituall gravitie prefers
A man in Court.
Com.
Which by truer stile,
Some call a formall, flat servility.
Bia.
Sir you may call it what you please. But wee
(That tread the path of publike businesses)
Know what a tacit shrug is, or a shrinke;
The wearing the Callott; the politique hood:
And twenty other parerga, o' the by,
You Seculars understand not: I shall trick him,
If his reversion came, i' my Lords way.
Dia.
What is that Mr. Practise? you sure know?
Mas' Compasses reversion?
Pra.
A fine place
(Surveyor of the Projects generall)
I would I had it.
Pal.
What is't worth?
Pra.
O Sir,
A Nemo scit.
Lad.
Wee'l thinke on't afore dinner.
Chorus.
Boy.Now, Gentlemen, what censure you of our Protasis, or first Act?
Pro.
Well, Boy, it is a faire Presentment of your Actors. And a
handsome promise of somewhat to come hereafter.
19
But, there is nothing done in it, or concluded: Therefore I say,
no Act.
Boy.
A fine peice of Logick! Doe you looke, Mr. Damplay, for conclusions
in a Protesis? I thought the Law of Comedy had reserv'd to the
Catastrophe: and that the Epitasis, (as wee are taught) and the Catastasis,
had beene interveening parts, to have beene expected. But you would
have all come together it seemes: The Clock should strike five, at once,
with the Acts.
Dam.
Why, if it could doe so, it were well, Boy.
Boy.
Yes, if the nature of a Clock were to speake, not strike, So, if
a Child could be borne, in a Play, and grow up to a man, i'the first Scene,
before hee went off the Stage: and then after to come forth a Squire,
and bee made a Knight: and that Knight to travell betweene the Acts,
and doe wonders i'the holy land or else where; kill Paynims wild
Boores, dun Cowes, and other Monsters; beget him a reputation, and
marry an Emperours Daughter: for his Mrs. Convert her Fathers Countrey;
and at last come home, lame and all to be laden with miracles.
Dam.
These miracles would please, I assure you: and take the People!
For there be of the People, that will expect miracles, and more
then miracles from this Pen.
Boy.
Doe they thinke this Pen can juggle? I would we had Hokos-pokos
for 'hem then; your People, or Travitanto Tudesko.
Dam.
Who's that Boy?
Boy.
Another Juggler, with a long name. Or that your expectors
would be gone hence, now, at the first Act; or expect no more hereafter,
then they understand.
Dam.
Why so my peremptory Jack?
Boy.
My name is Iohn, indeed—Because, who expect what is impossible,
or beyond nature, defraud themselves.
Pro.
Nay, there the Boy said well: They doe defraud themselves indeed.
Boy.
And therefore, Mr. Damplay, unlesse like a solemne Justice of wit,
you will damne our Play, unheard, or unexamin'd; I shall intreat your
Mrs. Madam Expectation, if shee be among these Ladies, to have patience,
but a pissing while: give our Springs leave to open a little, by degrees:
A Source of ridiculous matter may breake forth anon, that shall
steepe their temples, and bathe their braines in laughter, to the fomenting
of Stupiditie it selfe, and the awaking any velvet Lethargy in the House.
Pro.
Why doe you maintaine your Poets quarrell so with velvet,
and good clothes, Boy? wee have seene him in indifferent good clothes,
ere now.
Boy.
And may doe in better, if it please the King (his Master) to say
Amen to it, and allow it, to whom hee acknowledgeth all. But his
clothes shall never be the best thing about him, though; hee will have
somewhat beside, either of humane letters, or severe honesty, shall speak
him a man though he went naked.
Pro.
Hee is beholden to you, if you can make this good, Boy.
Boy.
Himselfe hath done that, already, against Envy.
Dam.
What's your name Sir? or your Countrey?
Boy.
Iohn Try-gust my name: A Cornish youth, and the Poëts Servant.
20
West-countrey breed, I thought, you were so bold.
Boy.
Or rather sawcy: to find out your palate, Mr. Damplay, Faith
we doe call a Spade, a Spade, in Cornewall. If you dare damne our Play,
i'the wrong place, we shall take heart to tell you so.
Pro.
Good Boy.
| The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd | |