 | The Magnetick Lady :or, Hvmors Reconcil'd |  |
Act IIII.
Scene I.
Chaire. Needle. Keepe.Cha.
Stay Mr. Needle, you doe prick too fast
Vpo' the busines: I must take some breath:
Lend me my stoole, you ha' drawne a stitch upon me,
In faith, sonne Needle, with your haste.
Nee.
Good Mother, peice up this breach; Ile gi' you a new Gowne,
A new silke-Grogoran Gowne. Ile do't Mother.
Kee.
What 'll you doe? you ha' done too much already
With your prick-seame, and through-stitch. Mr. Needle,
I pray you sit not fabling here old tales,
Good Mother Chaire, the Mid-wife, but come up.
Scene II.
Compasse. Keepe. Practise.Com.
How now Nurse, where's my Lady?
Kee.
In her Chamber
Lock'd up, I thinke: shee'll speake with no body.
Com.
Knowes shee o' this accident?
Kee.
Alas Sir, no;
Would she might never know it.
Pra.
I thinke her Ladiship
Too vertuous, and too nobly innocent,
To have a hand in so ill-form'd a busines.
Com.
Your thought Sir is a brave thought, and a safe one,
The child now to be borne is not more free,
From the aspersion of all spot, then she?
She have her hand in plot, 'gainst Mr. Practise.
If there were nothing else, whom she so loves?
Cries up, and values? knowes to be a man
Mark'd out, for a chiefe Justice in his cradle?
Or a Lord Paramount; the head o' the Hall?
The Top or the Top-gallant of our Law?
Assure your selfe, she could not so deprave,
The rectitude of her Judgement, to wish you
Vnto a wife, might prove your Infamy,
Whom she esteem'd that part o' the Common-wealth,
And had up for honour to her blood.
Pra.
I must confesse a great beholdingnesse
Vnto her Ladiships offer, and good wishes.
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Or any liking to this Neice of hers.
Com.
You fore-saw somewhat then?
Pra.
I had my notes,
And my Prognosticks.
Com.
You read Almanacks,
And study 'hem to some purpose, I beleeve?
Pra.
I doe confesse, I doe beleeve, and pray too:
According to the Planets at sometimes.
Com.
And doe observe the signe in making Love?
Pra.
As in Phlebotomy.
Com.
And choose your Mistris
By the good dayes, and leave her by the bad?
Pra.
I doe, and I doe not.
Com.
A little more
Would fetch all his Astronomie from Allestree.
Pra.
I tell you Mr. Compasse, as my friend,
And under seale, I cast mine eye long since,
Vpo' the other wench, my Ladies woman,
Another manner of peice for handsomnesse,
Then is the Neice (but that is sub sigillo,
And as I give it you) in hope o' your aid,
And counsell in the busines.
Com.
You need counsell?
The only famous Counsell, o' the kingdome,
And in all Courts? That is a Jeere in faith,
Worthy your name, and your profession too,
Sharpe Mr. Practise.
Pra.
No, upo' my Law,
As I am a Bencher, and now double Reader,
I meant in meere simplicity of request.
Com.
If you meant so. Th'affaires are now perplex'd,
And full of trouble, give 'hem breath, and setling,
Ile doe my best. But in meane time doe you
Prepare the Parson. (I am glad to know
This; for my selfe lik'd the young Maid before,
And lov'd her too.) Ha' you a Licence?
Pra.
No;
But I can fetch one straight.
Com.
Doe, doe, and mind
The Parsons pint t'ingage him—the busines;
A knitting Cup there must be.
Pra.
I shall doe it.
Scene III.
Bias. Interest. Compasse.Bia.
Tis an affront, from you Sir; you here brought me,
Vnto my Ladies, and to wooe a wife,
Which since is prov'd a crack'd commoditie;
Shee hath broke bulke too soone.
Int.
No fault of mine,
If she be crack'd in peeces, or broke round;
It was my sisters fault, that ownes the house,
Where she hath got her clap, makes all this noise.
I keepe her portion safe, that is not scatter'd:
The money's rattle not; nor are they throwne,
To make a Musse, yet 'mong the gamesome Suitors.
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Can you endure that flout, close Mr. Bias,
And have beene so bred in the Politiques?
The injury is done you, and by him only;
He lent you imprest money, and upbraids it:
Furnish'd you for the wooing, and now waves you.
Bia.
That makes me to expostulate the wrong
So with him, and resent it as I doe.
Com.
But doe it home then.
Bia.
Sir, my Lord shall know it.
Com.
And all the Lords o' the Court too.
Bia.
What a Moath
You are Sir Interest!
Int.
Wherein I intreat you,
Sweet Master Bias?
Com.
To draw in young States-men,
And heires of policie into the noose
Of an infamous matrimonie.
Bia.
Yes,
Infamous, quasi in communem famam:
And Matrimony, quasi, matter of Money.
Com.
Learnedly urg'd, my cunning Mr. Bias.
Bia.
With his lewd, knowne, and prostituted Neice.
Int.
My knowne, and prostitute: how you mistake,
And run upon a false ground, Mr. Bias!
(Your Lords will doe me right.) Now, she is prostitute,
And that I know it (please you understand me.)
I meane to keepe the portion in my hands:
And pay no monies.
Com.
Marke you that Don Bias?
And you shall still remaine in bonds to him,
For wooing furniture, and imprest charges.
Int.
Good Mr. Compasse, for the summes he has had
Of me, I doe acquit him: They are his owne.
Here, before you, I doe release him.
Com.
Good!
Bia.
O Sir.
Com.
'Slid take it: I doe witnesse it:
Hee cannot hurle away his money better.
Int.
He shall get so much Sir, by my acquaintance,
To be my friend: And now report to his Lords
As I deserve no otherwise.
Com.
But well:
And I will witnesse it, and to the value;
Foure hundred is the price, if I mistake not,
Of your true friend in Court. Take hands, you ha'bought him,
And bought him cheap.
Bia.
I am his worships servant.
Com.
And you his slave, Sir Moath. Seal'd, and deliver'd.
Ha' you not studied the Court Complement?
Here are a paire of Humours, reconcil'd now,
That money held at distance: or their thoughts,
Baser then money.
Scene IV.
Polish. Keepe. Compasse.Pol.
Out thou catife witch!
Baud, Beggar, Gipsey: Any thing indeed,
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Kee.
What you please, Dame Polish,
My Ladies Stroaker.
Com.
What is here to doe?
The Gossips out!
Pol.
Thou art a Traytor to me,
An Eve, the Apul, and the Serpent too:
A Viper, that hast eat a passage through me,
Through mine owne bowels, by thy retchlesnesse.
Com.
What frantick fit is this? Ile step aside
And hearken to it.
Pol.
Did I trust thee, wretch,
With such a secret, of that consequence,
Did so concerne me, and my child, our livelihood,
And reputation? And hast thou undone us?
By thy connivence, nodding in a corner,
And suffering her begot with child so basely?
Sleepie unlucky Hag! Thou bird of night,
And all mischance to me.
Kee.
Good Lady Empresse!
Had I the keeping of your Daughters clicket
In charge? was that committed to my trust?
Com.
Her Daughter.
Pol.
Softly Divell, not so low'd,
You'ld ha' the house heare, and be witnesse, would you?
Kee.
Let all the world be witnesse. Afore Ile
Endure the Tyrannie of such a tongue—
And such a pride—.
Pol.
What will you doe?
Kee.
Tell truth,
And shame the She-man-Divell in puff'd sleeves;
Run any hazzard, by revealing all
Vnto my Lady: how you chang'd the cradles,
And chang'd the children in 'hem.
Pol.
Not so high!
Kee.
Calling your Daughter Pleasance, there Placentia,
And my true Mistris by the name of Pleasance.
Com.
A horrid secret, this! worth the discovery;
Pol.
And must you be thus lowd?
Kee.
I will be lowder:
And cry it through the house, through every roome,
And every office of the Lawndry-maids:
Till it be borne hot to my Ladies eares.
Ere I will live in such a slavery,
Ile doe away my selfe.
Pol.
Didst thou not sweare
To keepe it secret? and upon what booke?
(I doe remember now) The Practice of Piety.
Kee.
It was a practice of impiety,
Out of your wicked forge, I know it now,
My conscience tels me. First, against the Infants,
To rob them o' their names, and their true parents;
T'abuse the neighbour-hood, keepe them in errour;
But most my Lady: Shee has the maine wrong:
And I wil let her know it instantly.
Repentance, (if it be true) nere comes too late.
Pol.
What have I done? Conjur'd a spirit up
I sha' not lay againe? drawne on a danger,
And ruine on my selfe thus, by provoking
A peevish foole, whom nothing will pray of,
Or satisfie I feare? Her patience stirr'd,
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On a sweet Rock, by mine owne arts, and trust:
And must get off againe, or dash in peeces.
Com.
This was a busines, worth the listning after.
Scene V.
Pleasance. Compasse.Ple.
O Mr. Compasse, did you see my Mother?
Mistris Placentia, my Ladies Neice;
Is newly brought to bed o' the bravest boy!
Will you goe see it?
Com.
First, Ile know the father,
Ere I approach these hazards.
Ple.
Mistris Midwife
Has promis'd to find out a father for it,
If there be need.
Com.
Shee may the safelier do't,
By vertue of her place. But pretty Pleasance,
I have a newes for you, I thinke will please you.
Ple.
What is't Mr. Compasse?
Com.
Stay, you must
Deserve it ere you know it. Where's my Lady?
Ple.
Retir'd unto her Chamber, and shut up.
Com.
She heares o' none o' this yet? well, doe you
Command the Coach; and fit your selfe to travell?
A little way with me.
Ple.
Whither, for Gods sake.
Com.
Where Ile intreat you not to your losse, beleeve it.
If you dare trust your selfe.
Ple.
With you the world ore.
Com.
The newes will well requite the paines, I assure you.
And i' this tumult you will not be mist.
Command the Coach, it is an instant busines,
Wu' not be done without you. Parson Palate
Most opportunely met, step to my Chamber:
Ile come to you presently. There is a friend,
Or two, will entertaine you, Mr. Practise.
Ha' you the Licence?
Scene VI.
Practise. Compasse. Pleasance. Palate.Pra.
Here it is.
Com.
Let's see it:
Your name's not in't.
Pra.
Ile fill that presently;
It has the Seale, which is the maine: And restgistred,
The Clarke knowes me, and trusts me.
Com.
Ha' you the Parson?
Pra.
They say hee's here, he 'pointed to come hither.
Com.
I would not have him seene here for a world,
To breed supition. Doe you intercept him,
And prevent that. But trke your Licence with you,
And fill the blanke: or leave it here with me,
Ile doe it for you, stay you with us at his Church,
Behind the old Exchange, wee'll come i'th Coach,
And meet you there within this Quarter at least.
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I am much bound unto you, Mr. Compasse,
You have all the Law, and parts of Squire Practise
For ever at your use. Ile tell you newes, too:
Sir, your Reversion's fall'n: Thin-wits dead,
Surveyor of the Projects generall.
Com.
When died he?
Pra.
Eene this morning, I receiv'd it
From a right hand.
Com.
Conceal it Mr. Practise,
And mind the maine affaire, you are in hand with.
Ple.
The Coach is ready Sir.
Com.
'Tis well faire Pleasance,
Though now wee shall not use it, bid the Coach-man
Drive to the Parish Church, and stay about there,
Till Mr. Practise come to him, and imploy him:
I have a Licence now, which must have entry
Before my Lawyers. Noble Parson Palate,
Thou shalt be a marke advanc't: here's a peece,
And doe a feat for me.
Pal.
What, Mr. Compasse?
Com.
But run the words of Matrimony, over
My head, and Mrs. Pleasances in my Chamber:
There's Captaine Ironside to be a witnesse:
And here's a Licence to secure thee. Parson!
What doe you stick at?
Pal.
It is after-noone Sir,
Directly against the Canon of the Church;
You know it Mr. Compasse: and beside,
I am ingag'd unto our worshipfull friend,
The learned Mr. Practise in that busines.
Com.
Come on, ingage your selfe: Who shall be able
To say you married us, but i'the morning,
The most canonicall minute o' the day,
If you affirme it? That's a spic'd excuse,
And shewes you have set the Common Law, before
Any profession else, of love, or friendship.
Come Mrs. Pleasance, wee cannot prevaile
With th'rigid Parson here; but Sir, Ile keepe you
Lock'd in my lodging, 'till 't be done elsewhere,
And under feare of Ironside.
Pal.
Doe you heare, Sir?
Com.
No, no, it matters not.
Pal.
Can you thinke Sir
I would deny you anything? not to losse
Of both my Livings: I will doe it for you,
Ha' you a wedding Ring?
Com.
I and a Poesie:
Annulus hic nobis, quod scit uterq; dabit.
Pal.
Good!
This Ring will give you what you both desire,
Ile make the whole house chant it, and the Parish.
Com.
Why, well said Parson. Now to you nay newes,
That comprehend my reasons, Mrs. Pleasance.
Scene VII.
Chaire. Needle. Polish. Keepe.Cha.
Goe, get a Nurse, procure her at what rate
You can: and out o'th' house with it, sonne Needle.
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Nee.
Good Mother,
I know it, but the best would now be made on't.
Cha.
And shall: you should not fret so, Mrs. Polish,
Nor you Dame Keepe; my Daughter shall doe well,
When she has tane my Cawdle. I ha' knowne.
Twenty such breaches piec'd up, and made whole,
Without a bum of noise. You two fall out?
And teare up one another?
Pol.
Blessed woman?
Blest be the Peace-maker.
Kee.
The Peace-dresser!
Ile heare no peace from her. I have beene wrong'd,
So has my Lady, my good Ladies worship,
And I will right her, hoping shee'll right me.
Pol.
Good gentle Keepe, I pray thee Mistris Nurse,
Pardon my passion, I was misadvis'd,
Be thou yet better, by this grave sage woman,
Who is the Mother of Matrons, and great persons,
And knowes the world.
Kee.
I doe confesse, she knowes
Something—and I know something—.
Pol.
Put your somethings
Together then.
Cha.
I, here's a chance falne out
You cannot helpe; lesse can this Gentlewoman;
I can and will, for both. First, I have sent
By-chop away; the cause gone, the fame ceaseth.
Then by my Cawdle, and my Cullice, I set
My Daughter on her feet, about the house here:
Shee's young, and must stirre somewhat for necessity,
Her youth will beare it out. She shall pretend,
T'have had a fit o' the Mother: there is all.
If you have but a Secretary Landresse,
To blanch the Linnen—Take the former counsels
Into you; keepe them safe i' your owne brests;
And make your Merkat of hem at the highest.
Will you goe peach, and cry your selfe a foole
At Granam's Crosse? be laugh'd at, and dispis'd?
Betray a purpose, which the Deputie
Of a double Ward, or scarce his Alderman,
With twelve of the wisest Questmen could find out,
Imployed by the Authority of the Citie?
Come, come, be friends: and keepe these women-matters,
Smock-secrets to our selves, in our owne verge.
Wee shall marre all, if once we ope the mysteries
O' the Tyring-house, and tell what's done within:
No Theaters are more cheated with apparances,
Or these shop-lights, then th'Ages, and folke in them,
That seeme most curious.
Pol.
Breath of an Oracle!
You shall be my deare Mother; wisest woman
That ever tip'd her tongue, with point of reasons,
To turne her hearers! Mistris Keepe, relent,
I did abuse thee; I confesse to pennance:
And on my knees aske thee forgivenesse.
Cha.
Rise,
She doth begin to melt, I see it—.
Kee.
Nothing
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Witch did not trouble me, nor Gipsie; no
Nor Beggar. But a Baud, was such a name!
Cha.
No more rehearsals; Repetitions
Make things the worse: The more wee stirre (you know
The Proverbe, and it signifies a) stink.
What's done, and dead, let it be buried.
New houres will fit fresh handles, to new thoughts.
Scene VIII.
Interest, with his Foot-boy. To them Compasse. Ironside. Silkeworme. Palate. Pleasance. To them the Lady: and after Practise.Int.
Run to the Church, Sirrah. Get all the Drunkards
To ring the Bels, and jangle them for joy
My Neice hath brought an Heire unto the house,
A lusty boy. Where's my sister Loadstone?
Asleepe at afternoones! It is not wholesome;
Against all rules of Physick, Lady sister.
The little Doctor will not like it. Our Neice
Is new deliver'd of a chopping Child,
Can call the Father by the name already,
If it but ope the mouth round. Mr. Compasse,
He is the man, they say, fame gives it out,
Hath done that Act of honour to our house,
And friendship to pompe out a Sonne, and Heire,
That shall inherit nothing, surely nothing
From me at least. I come t'invite your Ladiship
To be a witnesse; I will be your Partner,
And give it a horne-spoone, and a treene dish;
Bastard, and Beggars badges, with a blanket
For Dame the Doxey to march round the Circuit,
With bag, and baggage.
Com.
Thou malitious Knight,
Envious Sir Moath, that eates on that which feeds thee,
And frets her goodnesse, that sustaines thy being;
What company of Mankind would owne thy brother-hood,
But as thou hast a title to her blood,
Whom thy ill nature hath chose out t'insult on,
And vexe thus, for an Accident in her house,
As if it were her crime! Good innocent Lady,
Thou shew'st thy selfe a true corroding Vermine,
Such as thou art.
Int.
Why, gentle Mr. Compasse?
Because I wish you joy of your young Sonne,
And Heire to the house, you ha' sent us?
Com.
I ha' sent you?
I know not what I shall doe. Come in friends:
Madam, I pray you be pleas'd to trust your selfe
Vnto our company.
Lad.
I did that too late;
Which brought on this calamity upon me,
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That swaggering Guest.
Com.
Who is return'd here to you,
Your vowed friend, and servant; comes to sup with you,
So wee doe all; and 'll prove he hath deserv'd,
That speciall respect, and favour from you,
As not your fortunes, with your selfe to boote,
Cast on a Feather-bed, and spread o'th' sheets
Vnder a brace of your best Persian Carpets,
Were scarce a price to thanke his happy merit.
Int.
What impudence is this? can you indure
To heare it sister?
Com.
Yes, and you shall heare it;
Who will indure it worse. What deserves he
In your opinion, Madam, or weigh'd Judgement,
That, things thus hanging (as they doe in doubt)
Suspended, and suspected, all involv'd,
And wrapt in errour, can resolve the knot?
Redintigrate the fame, first of your house?
Restore your Ladiships quiet? render then
Your Neice a Virgin, and unvitiated?
And make all plaine, and perfect (as it was)
A practise to betray you, and your name?
Int.
Hee speakes impossibilities.
Com.
Here he stands,
Whose fortune hath done this, and you must thanke him:
To what you call his swaggering, wee owe all this.
And that it may have credit with you Madam,
Here is your Neice, whom I have married, witnesse
These Gentlemen, the Knight, Captaine, and Parson,
And this grave Politique Tell-troth of the Court.
Lad.
What's she that I call Neice then?
Com.
Polishes Daugh
Her Mother Goodwy' Polish hath confess'd it
To Granam Keepe, the Nurse, how they did change
The children in their Cradles.
Lad.
To what purpose?
Com.
To get the portion, or some part of it,
Which you must now disburse intire to me, Sir,
If I but gaine her Ladiships consent.
Lad.
I bid God give you joy, if this be true.
Com.
As true it is, Lady, Lady, i'th' song.
The portion's mine, with interest Sir Moath;
I will not 'bate you a single Harrington,
Of interest upon interest. In meane time,
I doe commit you to the Guard of Ironside.
My brother here, Captaine Rudhudibras:
From whom I will expect you, or your Ransome.
Int.
Sir you must prove it, and the possibility,
Ere I beleeve it.
Com.
For the possibility,
I leave to triall. Truth shall speake it selfe.
O Mr. Practise, did you meet the Coach?
Pra.
Yes Sir, but empty.
Com.
Why, I sent it for you.
The busines is dispatch'd here, ere you come;
Come in, Ile tell you how: you are a man
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All.
So doe wee all, and long to heare the right.
Chorus.
Dam.Troth, I am one of those that labour with the same longing,
for it is almost pucker'd, and pull'd into that knot, by your Poët, which
I cannot easily, with all the strength of my imagination, untie.
Boy.
Like enough, nor is it in your office to be troubled or perplexed
with it, but to sit still, and expect. The more your imagination busies it
selfe, the more it is intangled, especially if (as I told, in the beginning)
you happen on the wrong end.
Pro.
He hath said sufficient, Brother Damplay; our parts that are the
Spectators, or should heare a Comedy, are to await the processe, and events
of things, as the Poet presents them, not as wee would corruptly fashion
them. Wee come here to behold Playes, and censure them, as they are
made, and fitted for us; not to beslave our owne thoughts, with censorious
spitle tempering the Poets clay, as wee were to mould every Scene
anew: That were a meere Plastick, or Potters ambition, most unbecomming
the name of a Gentleman. No, let us marke, and not lose the
busines on foot, by talking. Follow the right thred, or find it.
Dam.
Why, here his Play might have ended, if hee would ha' let it;
and have spar'd us the vexation of a fift Act yet to come, which every
one here knowes the issue of already, or may in part conjecture.
Boy.
That conjecture is a kind of Figure-flinging, or throwing the
Dice, for a meaning was never in the Poets purpose perhaps. Stay, and see
his last Act, his Catastrophe, how hee will perplexe that, or spring some
fresh cheat, to entertaine the Spectators, with a convenient delight, till
some unexpected, and new encounter breake out to rectifie all, and make
good the Conclusion.
Pro.
Which, ending here, would have showne dull, flat, and unpointed;
without any shape, or sharpenesse, Brother Damplay.
Dam.
Well, let us expect then: And wit be with us, o' the Poets part.
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