 | The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd |  |
Act. III
Scene I.
Item. Needle. Keepe. Pleasance.Item.
VVhere's Mr. Doctor?
Nee.
O Mr. Tim Item,
His learned Pothecary! you are welcome:
He is within at dinner.
Ite.
Dinner! Death!
That hee will eat now, having such a busines,
That so concernes him!
Nee.
Why, can any busines
Concerne a man like his meat?
Ite.
O twenty millions,
To a Physician, that's in practise; I
Doe bring him newes, from all the points o' the Compasse,
(That's all the parts of the sublunary Globe.)
Of times, and double times.
Nee.
In, in, sweet Item,
And furnish forth the Table with your newes:
Deserve your dinner: Sow out your whole bag full:
The Guests will heare it.
Item.
I heard they were out.
Nee.
But they are piec'd, and put together againe,
You may goe in, you'l find them at high eating:
The Parson has an edifying stomack,
And a perswading Palate (like his name:)
Hee hath begun three draughts of sack in Doctrines,
And fower in Uses.
Ite.
And they follow him.
Nee.
No, Sir Diaphanous is a Recusant
In sack. He onely takes it in French wine,
With an allay of water. In, in Item,
And leave your peeping.
Kee.
I have a moneths mind,
To peepe a little too. Sweet Mas' Needle,
How are they set?
Nee.
At the boords end my Lady—.
Kee.
And my young Mrs. by her?
Nee.
Yes, the Parson
On the right hand (as hee'l not lose his place
For thrusting) and 'gainst him Mrs. Polish:
Next, Sir Diaphanous, against Sir Moath,
Knights, one againe another: Then the Souldier,
The man of warre, and man of peace the Lawyer:
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And Mr. Compasse circumscribeth all.
Ple.
Nurse Keepe, nurse Keepe!
Nee.
What noise is that within?
A noise within.
Ple.
Come to my Mistris, all their weapons are out.
Nee.
Mischiefe of men! what day, what houre is this?
Kee.
Run for the cellar of strong waters, quickly.
Scene II.
To them after.Compasse. Ironside.
Com.
Were you a mad man to doe this at table?
And trouble all the Guests, to affright the Ladies,
And Gentlewomen?
Iro.
Pox up o' your women,
And your halfe man there, Court-Sir Amber-gris:
A perfum'd braggart: He must drinke his wine
With three parts water; and have Amber in that too.
Com.
And you must therefore breake his face with a Glasse,
And wash his nose in wine.
Iro.
Cannot he drinke
In Orthodoxe, but he must have his Gums,
And Panym Drugs?
Com.
You should have us'd the Glasse
Rather as ballance, then the sword of Justice:
But you have cut his face with it, he bleeds.
Come you shall take your Sanctuary with me,
The whole house will be up in armes 'gainst you else,
Within this halfe houre; this way to my lodging.
Rut. Lady. Polish. Keepe, carrying Placentia over the Stage.
Pleasance. Item.
Rut.
A most rude action! carry her to her bed;
And use the Fricace to her, with those oyles.
Keepe your newes Item now, and tend this busines.
Lad.
Good Gossip looke to her.
Pol.
How doe you sweet charge?
Kee.
She's in a sweat.
Pol.
I, and afaint sweat mary.
Rut.
Let her alone to Tim: he has directions,
Ile heare your newes Tim Item, when you ha' done.
Lad.
Was ever such a Guest brought to my table?
Rut.
These boistrous Souldiers ha' no better breeding.
Here Mr. Compasse comes: where's your Captaine,
Rudhudibras de Ironside?
Com.
Gone out of doores.
Lad.
Would he had nere come in them, I may wish.
He has discredited my house, and boord,
With his rude swaggering manners, and endanger'd
My Neices health (by drawing of his weapon)
God knowes how farre; for Mr. Doctor does not.
Com.
The Doctor is an Asse then, if hee say so,
And cannot with his conjuring names, Hippocrates;
Galen or Rasis, Avicen. Averroes,
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Which a poore Farthing chang'd in Rosa solis,
Or Cynnamon water would.
Lad.
How now? how does she?
Kee.
Shee's somewhat better. Mr. Item has brought her
A little about.
Pol.
But there's Sir Moath your brother
Is falne into a fit o' the happyplexe,
It were a happy place for him, and us,
If he could steale to heaven thus: All the house
Are calling Mr. Doctor, Mr. Doctor.
The Parson he has gi'n him gone, this halfe houre;
Hee's pale in the mouth already, for the feare
O' the fierce Captaine.
Lad.
Helpe me to my Chamber,
Nurse Keepe: Would I could see the day no more,
But night hung over me, like some darke cloud;
That, buried with this losse of my good name,
I, and my house might perish, thus forgotten—
Com.
Her taking it to heart thus, more afflicts me
Then all these accidents, for they'll blow over.
Scene III.
Practise. Silkworme, Compasse.Pra.
It was a barbarous Injury, I confesse:
But if you will be counsell'd, Sir, by me,
The reverend Law lies open to repaire
Your reputation. That will gi' you damages;
Five thousand pound for a finger, I have knowne
Given in Court: And let me pack your Jury.
Silk.
There's nothing vexes me, but that he has staind
My new white sattin Doublet; and bespatter'd
My spick and span silke Stockings, o' the day
They were drawne on: And here's a spot i' my hose too.
Com.
Shrewd maimes! your Clothes are wounded desperately,
And that (I thinke) troubles a Courtier more,
An exact Courtier, then a gash in his flesh.
Silk.
My flesh? I sweare had he giv'n me twice so much,
I never should ha' reckon'd it. But my clothes
To be de defac'd, and stigmatiz'd so foulely!
I take it as a contumely done me
Above the wisedome of our Lawes to right.
Com.
Why then you'l challenge him?
Silk.
I will advise,
Though Mr. Practise here doth urge the Law;
And reputation it will make me of credit,
Beside great damages (let him pack my Jury.)
Com.
He speakes like Mr. Practise, one, that is
The Child of a Profession he's vow'd too,
And servant to the studie he hath taken,
A pure Apprentice at Law! But you must have
34
Vnto their Cannons, and that brother-hood,
If you doe right.
Pra.
I tell you Mr. Compasse,
You speake not like a friend unto the Lawes,
Nor scarce a subject, to perswade him thus,
Vnto the breach o' the peace: Sir you forget
There is a Court above, o' the Starre-Chamber,
To punish Routs and Riots.
Com.
No, young Master,
Although your name be Practise there in Terme time,
I doe remember it. But you'l not heare
What I was bound to say; but like a wild
Young haggard Justice, fly at breach o' the Peace,
Before you know, whether the amorous Knight
Dares break the peace of conscience in a Duell.
Silk.
Troth Mr. Compasse, I take you my friend;
You shall appoint of me in any matter
That's reasonable, so wee may meet faire,
On even termes.
Com.
I shall perswade no other,
(And take your learned Counsell to advise you)
Ile run along with him. You say you'l meet him,
On even termes. I doe not see indeed
How that can be, 'twixt Ironside and you,
Now I consider it. Hee is my brother.
I doe confesse (wee ha' call'd so twenty yeare:)
But you are, Sir, a Knight in Court, allied there,
And so befriended, you may easily answer
The worst successe: He a knowne, noted, bold
Boy o' the Sword, hath all mens eyes upon him;
And there's no London-Iury, but are led
In evidence, as farre by common fame,
As they are by present deposition.
Then you have many brethren, and neer kinsmen.
If he kill you, it will be a lasting Quarrell
T'wixt them, and him. Whereas Rud: Ironside,
Although he ha' got his head into a Beaver,
With a huge feather, 's but a Corriers sonne,
And has not two old Cordov'an skins, to leave
In Leather Caps to mourne him in, if he die.
Againe, you are generally belov'd, he hated
So much, that all the hearts, and votes of men
Goe with you, in the wishing all prosperity
Vnto your purpose; hee's a fat, corpulent,
Vnweildy fellow: you, a dieted Sparke,
Fit for the Combat. He has kild so many;
As it is ten to one his turne is next;
You never fought with any, lesse, slew any:
And therefore have the hopes before you.
I hope these things thus specified unto you,
Are faire advantages: you cannot encounter
Him upon equall termes. Beside, Sir Silkworme,
35
And sense of such an Injury receiv'd,
Should so exacuate, and whet your choller,
As you should count your selfe an host of men,
Compar'd to him. And therefore you, brave Sir,
Have no more reason to provoke, or challenge
Him, then the huge great Porter has to try
His strength upon an Infant.
Silke.
Mr. Compasse,
You rather spur me on, then any way
Abate my courage to the Enterprise.
Com.
All Counsell's as it's taken. If you stand
On point of honour, not t'have any odds,
I have rather then disswaded you, then otherwise:
If upon termes of humour and revenge,
I have encourag'd you. So that I thinke,
I have done the part of a friend on either side:
In furnishing your feare with matter first,
If you have any: Or, if you dare fight,
To heighten, and confirme your resolution.
Pra.
I now doe crave your pardon, Mr. Compasse:
I did not apprehend your way before,
The true Perimiter of it: you have Circles,
And such fine draughts about!
Silke.
Sir I doe thanke you,
I thanke you Mr. Compasse heartily;
I must confesse, I never fought before,
And I'll be glad to doe things orderly,
In the right place: I pray you instruct me.
Is't best I fight ambitiously, or malitiously?
Com.
Sir, if you never fought before, be wary,
Trust not your selfe too much.
Silke.
Why? I assure you,
I'am very angry.
Com.
Doe not suffer, though,
The flatuous, windy choller of your heart,
To move the clapper of your understanding,
Which is the guiding faculty, your reason:
You know not, if you'l fight, or no, being brought
Vpo' the place.
Silke.
O yes, I have imagin'd
Him treble arm'd, provok'd too, and as furious
As Homer makes Achilles; and I find
My selfe not frighted with his fame one jot.
Com.
Well, yet take heed. These fights imaginary,
Are lesse then skirmishes, the fight of shadowes:
For shadowes have their figure, motion
And their umbratile action from the reall.
Posture, and motion of the bodies act:
Whereas (imaginarily) many times,
Those men may fight, dare scarce eye one another,
And much lesse meet. But if there be no helpe,
Faith I would wish you, send him a faire Challenge.
Silk.
I will goe pen it presently.
Com.
But word it
In them ost generous termes.
Silk.
Let me alone.
36
And silken phrase: the courtliest kind of Quarrell.
Com.
He'l make it a petition for his peace.
Pra.
O, yes, of right, and hee may doe it by Law.
Scene IV.
Rut. Palate. Bias, bringing out Interest in a Chaire. Item. Polish following.Rut.
Come, bring him out into the aire a little:
There set him downe. Bow him, yet bow him more,
Dash that same Glasse of water in his face:
Now tweak him by the nose. Hard, harder yet:
If it but call the blood up from the heart,
I aske no more. See, what a feare can doe!
Pinch him in the nape of the neck now, nip him, nip him.
Ite.
He feeles, there's life in him.
Pal.
He graones, and stirres.
Rut.
Tell him the Captaine's gone.
Int.
Ha!
Pal.
He's gone Sir.
Rut.
Gi' him a box, hard, hard, on his left eare.
Int.
O!
Rut.
How doe you feele your selfe?
Int.
Sore, sore.
Rut.
But where?
Int.
I'my neck.
Rut.
I nipt him there.
Int.
And i' my head.
Rut.
I box'd him twice, or thrice, to move those Sinewes.
Bia.
I sweare you did.
Pol.
What a brave man's a Doctor,
To beat one into health! I thought his blowes
Would eene ha' kild him: hee did feele no more
Then a great horse.
Int.
Is the wild Captaine gone?
That man of murther?
Bia.
All is calme and quiet.
Int.
Say you so, Cosen Bias? Then all's well.
Pal.
How quickly a man is lost!
Bia.
And soone recover'd!
Pol.
Where there are meanes, and Doctors, learned men,
And their Apothecaries, who are not now,
(As Chawcer sayes) their friendship to begin.
Well, could they teach each other how to win
I' their swath bands—.
Rut.
Leave your Poetry good Gossip.
Your Chawcers clouts, and wash your dishes with 'hem,
Wee must rub up the roots of his disease,
And crave your peace awhile, or else your absence.
Pol.
Nay, I know when to hold my peace.
Rut.
Then do it.
Gi' me your hand Sir Moath. Let's feele your pulse.
It is a Pursinesse, a kind of Stoppage,
Or tumor o' the Purse, for want of exercise,
That you are troubled with: some ligatures
I'th neck of your Vesica, or Marsupium,
Are so close knit, that you cannot evaporate;
And therefore you must use relaxatives.
Beside, they say, you are so restive growne,
You cannot but with trouble put your hand
Into your pocket, to discharge a reckoning.
37
A kind of Crampe, or Hand-Gout. You shall purge for't.
Ite.
Indeed your worship should doe well to advise him,
To clense his body, all the three high wayes;
That is, by Sweat, Purge, and Phlebotomy.
Rut.
You say well learned Tim, Ile first prescribe him,
To give his purse a purge once, twice a weeke
At Dice, or Cards: And when the weather is open,
Sweat at a bowling Alley, or be let blood
I' the lending veine, and bleed a matter of fifty,
Or threescore ounces at a time. Then put
Your thumbs under your Girdle, and have somebody
Else, pull out your purse for you, till with more ease,
And a good habit, you can doe it your selfe.
And then be sure alwayes to keepe good diet;
And h' your table furnish'd from one end,
Vnto the tother: It is good for the eyes,
But feed you on one dish still, ha' your Diet-drinke,
Ever in Bottles ready, which must come
From the Kings-head: I will prescribe you nothing,
But what Ile take before you mine owne selfe:
That is my course with all my Patients.
Pal.
Very methodicall, Secundum Artem.
Bia.
And very safe pro captu recipientis.
Pol.
All errant learned men, how they spute Latine!
Rut.
I had it of a Jew, and a great Rabbi,
Who every morning cast his cup of White-wine
With sugar, and by the residence i' the bottome,
Would make report of any Chronick malady,
Such as Sir Moath's is, being an oppilation,
In that you call the neck o' the money bladder,
Most anatomicall, and by dissection.
Enter Nurse.
Kee.
O Mr. Doctor, and his Pothecary!
Good Mr. Item, and my Mistris Polish!
Wee need you all above! Shee's falne againe,
In a worse fit then ever.
Pol.
Who?
Kee.
Your charge.
Pol.
Come away Gentlemen.
Int.
This fit with the Doctor,
Hath mended me past expectation.
Scene V.
Compasse. Diaphanous. Practise. Bias. Ironside.Com.
O Sir Diaphanous, ha' yon done?
Dia.
I ha' brought it.
Pra.
That's well.
Com.
But who shall carry it now?
Dia.
A friend:
Ile find a friend to carry it; Mr. Bias here.
Will not deny me that.
Bia.
What is't?
Dia.
To carry.
A Challenge I have writ unto the Captaine.
Bias.
Faith but I will Sir, you shall pardon me.
For a twi-reason of State. Ile beare no Challenges;
38
Or forfeit mine owne Judgement with his honour,
To turne a Ruffian: I have to commend me
Nought but his Lordships good opinion;
And to't my Kallygraphy, a faire hand,
Fit for a Secretary: Now you know, a mans hand
Being his executing part in fight,
Is more obnoxious to the common perill—
Dia.
You shall not fight Sir, you shall onely search
My Antagonist; commit us fairely there
Vpo' the ground on equall termes.
Bia.
O Sir!
But if my Lord should heare I stood at end
Of any quarrell, 'twere an end of me
In a state course! I ha' read the Politiques;
And heard th'opinions of our best Divines.
Com.
The Gentleman has reason! Where was first
The birth of your acquaintance? or the Cradle
Of your strickt friendship made?
Dia.
We met in France, Sir.
Com.
In France! that Garden of humanity,
The very seed-plot of all courtesies:
I wonder that your friendship suck'd that aliment,
The milke of France; and see this sower effect
It doth produce, 'gainst all the sweets of travell:
There, every Gentleman professing armes,
Thinkes he is bound in honour to imbrace
The bearing of a Challenge for another,
Without or questioning the cause, or asking
Least colour of a reason. There's no Cowardize,
No Poultrounerie, like urging why? wherefore?
But carry a Challenge, die, and doe the thing.
Bia.
Why, heare you Mr. Compasse, I but crave
Your eare in private? I would carry his Challenge,
If I but hop'd your Captaine angry enough
To kill him: For (to tell you truth) this Knight,
Is an impertinent in Court, (wee thinke him:)
And troubles my Lords Lodgings, and his Table
With frequent, and unnecessary visits,
Which wee (the better sort of Servants) like not:
Being his Fellowes in all other places,
But at our Masters boord; and we disdaine
To doe those servile offices, oft times,
His foolish pride, and Empire will exact,
Against the heart, or humour of a Gentleman.
Com.
Truth Mr. Bias, I'ld not ha' you thinke
I speake to flatter you: but you are one
O' the deepest Politiques I ever met,
And the most subtily rationall. I admire you.
But doe not you conceive in such a case,
That you are accessary to his death,
From whom you carry a Challenge with such purpose.
39
Sir the corruption of one thing in nature,
Is held the Generation of another;
And therefore, I had as leive be accessory
Vnto his death, as to his life.
Com.
A new
Morall Philosophy too! you'l carry't then.
Bia.
If I were sure, 't would not incense his choller
To beat the Messenger.
Com.
O' Ile secure you,
You shall deliver it in my lodging; safely,
And doe your friend a service worthy thankes.
Bia.
Ile venture it, upon so good Induction,
To rid the Court of an Impediment,
This baggage Knight.
Iro.
Peace to you all Gentlemen,
Enter Ironside.
Save to this Mushrome; who I heare is menacing
Me with a Challenge: which I come to anticipate,
And save the Law a labour: Will you fight Sir?
Dia.
Yes, in my shirt.
Iro.
O, that's to save your doublet;
I know it a Court trick! you had rather have
An Vlcer in your body, then a Pinke
More i' your clothes.
Dia.
Captaine, you are a Coward,
If you not fight i' your shirt.
Iro.
Sir I not meane
To put it off for that, nor yet my doublet:
Yo' have cause to call me Coward, that more feare
The stroke of the common, and life giving aire,
Then all your fury, and the Panoplie.
Pra.
(Which is at best, but a thin linnen armour.)
I thinke a cup of generous wine were better,
Then fighting i' your shirts.
Dia.
Sir, Sir, my valour,
It is a valour of another nature,
Then to be mended by a cup of wine.
Com.
I should be glad to heare of any valours,
Differing in kind; who have knowne hitherto,
Only one vertue, they call Fortitude,
Worthy the name of valour.
Iro.
Which, who hath not,
Is justly thought a Coward: And he is such.
Dia.
O, you ha' read the Play there, the New Inne,
Of Ionsons, that decries all other valour
But what is for the publike.
Iro.
I doe that too,
But did not learne it there; I thinke no valour
Lies for a private cause.
Dia.
Sir, Ile redargue you,
By disputation.
Com.
O let's heare this!
I long to heare a man dispute in his shirt
Of valour, and his sword drawne in his hand.
Pra.
His valour will take cold; put on your doublet.
Com.
His valour will keepe cold, you are deceiv'd;
And relish much the sweter in our eares:
It may be too, i' the ordinance of nature.
Their valours are not yet so combatant,
Or truly antagonistick, as to fight;
But may admit to heare of some divisions,
Of Fortitude, may put 'hem off their Quarrell.
40
I would have no man thinke me so ungovern'd,
Or subject to my passion, but I can
Reade him a Lecture 'twixt my undertakings,
And executions: I doe know all kinds
Of doing the busines, which the Towne cals valour.
Com.
Yes, he has read the Towne, Towne-top's his Author!
Your first?
Dia.
Is a rash head-long unexperience.
Com.
Which is in Children, Fooles, or your street Gallants
O' the first head.
Pra.
A pretty kind of valour!
Com.
Commend him, he will spin it out in's shirt,
Fine, as that thred.
Dia.
The next, an indiscreet
Presumption, grounded upon often scapes.
Com.
Or th'insufficiencie of Adversaries,
And this is in your common fighting Brothers.
Your old Perdu's, who (after a time) doe thinke,
The one, that they are shot free; the other, sword free.
Your third?
Dia.
Is nought but an excesse of choller,
That raignes in testy old men—.
Com.
Noble mens Porters,
And selfe conceited Poëts.
Dia.
And is rather
A peevishnesse, then any part of valour.
Pra.
He but reherses, he concludes no valour.
Com.
A history of distempers, as they are practiz'd,
His Harangue undertaketh, and no more.
Your next?
Dia.
Is a dull desperate resolving.
Com.
In case of some necessitous misery, or
Incumbent mischiefe.
Pra.
Narrownesse of mind,
Or ignorance being the root of it.
Dia.
Which shou shall find in Gamesters, quite blowne up.
Com.
Banckrupt Merchants, undiscovered Traytors.
Pra.
Or your exemplified Malefactors,
That have surviv'd their infamy, and punishment.
Com.
One that hath lost his eares, by a just sentence
O' the Starre-Chamber, a right valiant Knave—
And is a Histrionicall Contempt,
Of what a man feares most; it being a mischiefe
In his owne apprehension unavoidable.
Pra.
Which is in Cowards wounded mortally,
Or Theeves adjudg'd to die.
Com.
This is a valour,
I should desire much to see incourag'd:
As being a speciall entertainment
For our rogue People; and make oft good sport
Vnto 'hem, from the Gallowes to the ground.
Dia.
But mine is a Judiciall resolving,
Or liberall undertaking of a danger—.
Com.
That might be avoided.
Dia.
I, and with assurance,
That it is found in Noble-men, and Gentlemen,
Of the best sheafe.
Com.
Who having lives to lose,
Like private men, have yet a world of honour,
And publike reputation to defend—.
Dia.
Which in the brave historified Greeks,
41
Com.
And (no doubt)
May in our Alder-men meet it, and their Deputies,
The Souldiers of the Citie, valiant blades,
Who (rather then their houses should be ransack'd)
Would fight it out, like so many wild beasts;
Not for the fury they are commonly arm'd with:
But the close manner of their fight, and custome,
Of joyning head to head, and foot to foot.
Iro.
And which of these so well-prest resolutions
Am I to encounter now? For commonly,
Men that have so much choise before 'hem, have
Some trouble to resolve of any one.
Bia.
There are three valours yet, which Sir Diaphanous,
Hath (with his leave) not touch'd.
Dia.
Yea? which are those?
Pra.
He perks at that!
Com.
Nay, he does more, he chatters
Bia.
A Philosophicall contempt of death,
Is one: Then an infused kind of valour,
Wrought in us by our Genii, or good spirits;
Of which the gallant Ethnicks had deepe sense:
Who generally held, that no great States-man,
Scholler, or Souldier, ere did any thing
Sine divino aliquo afflatu.
Pra.
But there's a Christian valour, 'bove these too.
Bia.
Which is a quiet patient toleration,
Of whatsoever the malitious world
With Injury doth unto you; and consists
In passion, more then action, Sir Diaphanous.
Dia.
Sure, I doe take mine to be Christian valour—.
Com.
You may mistake though. Can you justifie
On any cause, this seeking to deface,
The divine Image in a man?
Bia.
O Sir!
Let 'hem alone: Is not Diaphanous
As much a divine Image, as is Ironside?
Let Images fight, if they will fight, a God's name.
Scene VI.
To them intervening.Keepe. Needle. Interest.
Kee.
Where's Mr. Needle? Saw you Mr. Needle?
Wee are undone.
Com.
What ailes the frantick Nurse?
Kee.
My Mistris is undone, shee's crying out!
Where is this man trow? Mr. Needle?
Nee.
Here.
Kee.
Run for the party, Mrs. Chaire the Mid-wife.
Nay, looke how the man stands, as he were gok't!
Shee's lost, if you not haste away the party.
Nee.
Where is the Doctor?
Kee.
Where a scoffing man is.
And his Apothecary, little better;
They laugh, and geere at all: will you dispatch?
42
Wee are all undone! The Timpanie will out else.
Int.
Newes, newes, good newes, better then butter'd newes!
My Neice is found with Child, the Doctor tels me,
And falne in labour.
Com.
How?
Int.
The portion's paid!
Exit.
The portion—o' the Captaine! Is he here?
Pra.
H' has spi'd your swords out! put 'hem up, put up,
Yo' have driven him hence; and yet your quarrell's ended.
Iro.
In a most strange discovery.
Pra.
Of light gold.
Dia.
And crack't within the Ring. I take the Omen,
As a good Omen.
Pra.
Then put up your Sword,
And on your Doublet. Give the Captaine thankes.
Dia.
I had beene slur'd else. Thanke you noble Captaine!
Your quarrelling caus'd all this.
Iro.
Where's Compasse?
Pra.
Gone,
Shrunke hence,! contracted to his Center, I feare.
Iro.
The slip is his then.
Dia.
I had like t'have beene
Abus'd i' the busines, had the slip slur'd on me,
A Counterfeit.
Bias.
Sir, we are all abus'd:
As many as were brought on to be Suitors;
And we will joyne in thankes, all to the Captaine,
And to his fortune that so brought us off.
Chorus.
Dam.This was a pittifull poore shift o' your Poët, Boy, to make his
prime woman with child, and fall in labour, just to compose a quarrell.
Boy.
With whose borrowed eares, have you heard, Sir, all this while,
that you can mistake the current of our Scene so? The streame of the
Argument, threatned her being with child from the very beginning, for it
presented her in the first of the second Act, with some apparent note of
infirmity, or defect: from knowledge of which, the Auditory were
rightly to bee suspended by the Author, till the quarrell, which was but
the accidentall cause, hastned on the discovery of it, in occasioning her
affright; which made her fall into her throwes presently, and within that
compasse of time allow'd to the Comedy, wherein the Poët exprest his
prime Artifice, rather then any errour, that the detection of her being
with child, should determine the quarrell, which had produc'd it.
Pro.
The Boy is too hard for you. Brother Damplay, best marke the
Play, and let him alone.
Dam.
I care not for marking the Play: Ile damne it, talke, and doe that
I come for. I will not have Gentlemen lose their priviledge, nor I my
selfe my prerogative, for neere an overgrowne, or superannuated Poët of
'hem all. Hee shall not give me the Law; I will censure, and be witty,
and take my Tobacco, and enjoy my Magna Charta of reprehension, as
my Predecessors have done before me.
Boy.
Even to license, and absurdity.
Pro.
Not now, because the Gentlewoman is in travell: and the Midwife
may come on the sooner, to put her and us out of our paine.
Dam.
Well, looke to your busines afterward, Boy, that all things bee
43
search what followes severely and to the naile.
Boy.
Let your naile run smooth then, and not scratch: lest the Author
be bold to pare it to the quick, and make it smart: you'l find him as severe
as your selfe.
Dam.
A shrewd Boy! and has mee every where. The Mid-wife is
come, she has made haste.
| The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd | |