 | The late Lancashire VVitches |  |
Actvs, IIII.
Scæna, I.
Enter Mistresse Generous and Robin.
Know you this gingling bridle, if you see't agen? I
wanted but a paire of gingling spurs to make you
mend your pace, and put you into a sweat.
Robin.
Yes, I have reason to know it after my
part, though you be merry. Yet I may be sorry for your heavinesse.
Mrs. Gener.
I see thou art not quite tyr'd by shaking of thy
selfe, 'tis a signe that as thou hast brought mee hither, so thou art
able to beare mee backe, and so you are like good Robert. You
will not let me have your masters gelding, you will not. Wel sir,
as you like this journey, so deny him to me hereafter.
Rob.
You say well mistresse, you have jaded me (a pox take
you for a jade.) Now I bethinke my selfe how damnably did I
ride last night, and how divellishly have I bin rid now.
Mrs.
Doe you grumble you groome? Now the bridl's of, I
turne thee to grazing, gramercy my good horse, I have no better
provender for thee at this time, thou hadst best like Æsops
Asse to feed upon Thistles, of which this place will affoord thee
plenty. I am bid to a better banquet, which done, ile take thee
up from grasse, spur cutt, and make a short cutt home. Farewell.
Robin.
A pox upon your tayle.
Enter all the Witches and Mal, at severall dores.
All.
The Lady of the feast is come, welcome, welcome.
Mrs.
Is all the cheare that was prepared to grace the wedding
feast, yet come?
Gooddy Dick
part of it's here.
The other we must pull for. But whats hee?
Mrs.
My horse, my horse, ha, ha, ha.
All.
Ha, ha, ha.
Exeunt.
Rob.
My horse, my horse, I would I were now some country
Major, and in authority, to see if I would not venter to rowze
your Satanicall sisterhood: Horse, horse, see thou be, & where I
point thee, cary me: is that the trick on't? the divel himselfe shall
be her carrier next if I can shun her: & yet my Mr. will not beleeve
theres any witches: theres no running away; for I neither
know how nor whether, besides to my thinking, theres a deepe
ditch, & a hye quick-set about mee, how shall I passe the time?
What place is this? it looks like an old barne: ile peep in at some
cranny or other, and try if I can see what they are doing.
Such a bevy of beldames did I never behold; and cramming,
Gooddy Dickison.
Whoope, whurre, heres a sturre, never a cat,
never a curre, but that we must have this demurre.
Mal.
A second course.
Mrs. Gen.
Pull, and pull hard
For all that hath lately bin prepar'd
For the great wedding feast.
Mal.
As chiefe.
Of Doughtyes Surloine of rost Beefe.
All.
Ha, ha, ha.
Meg.
'Tis come, 'tis come.
Mawd.
Where hath it all this while beene?
Meg.
Some
Delay hath kept it, now 'tis here,
For bottles next of wine and beere,
The Merchants cellers they shall pay for't.
Mrs. Gener.
Well,
What sod or rost meat more, pray tell.
Good Dick.
Pul for the Poultry, Foule, & Fish,
For emptie shall not be a dish.
Robin.
A pox take them, must only they feed upon hot meat,
and I upon nothing but cold sallads
Mrs. Gener.
This meat is tedious, now some Farie,
Fetch what belongs unto the Dairie.
Mal.
Thats Butter, Milk, Whey, Curds and Cheese,
Wee nothing by the bargaine leese.
All.
Ha, ha, ha.
Goody Dickison.
Boy, theres meat for you.
Boy.
Thanke you.
Gooddy Dickis.
And drinke too.
Meg.
What Beast was by thee hither rid?
Mawd.
A Badger nab.
Meg.
And I bestrid
A Porcupine that never prickt.
Mal.
The dull sides of a Beare I kickt.
I know how you rid Lady Nan,
Mrs. Gen,
Ha, ha, ha, upon the knave my man.
A murrein take you, I am sure my hoofes payd for't.
Boy.
Meat lie there, for thou hast no taste, and drinke there,
for thou hast no relish, for in neither of them is there either salt
or savour.
All.
Pull for the posset, pull.
Robin.
The brides posset on my life, nay if they come to their
spoone meat once, I hope theil breake up their feast presently.
Mrs. Gen.
So those that are our waiters nere,
Take hence this Wedding cheere.
We will be lively all, and make this barn our hall.
Gooddy Dick.
You our Familiers, come.
In speech let all be dumbe,
And to close up our Feast,
To welcome every gest
A merry round let's daunce.
Meg.
Some Musicke then ith aire
Whilest thus by paire and paire,
We nimbly foot it; strike.
Musick.
Mal.
We are obeyd.
Sprite.
And we hels ministers shall lend our aid.
Dance and Song together. In the time of which the Boy speakes.
Boy.
Now whilest they are in their jollitie, and do not mind
me, ile steale away, and shift for my selfe, though I lose my life
for't.
Exit.
Meg.
Enough, enough, now part,
To see the brides vext heart,
The bridegroomes too and all,
That vomit up their gall
For lacke o'th wedding chere.
Gooddy Dickison.
But stay, wheres the Boy, looke out, if he escape
us, we are all betrayed.
Meg.
No following further, yonder horsemen come,
In vaine is our pursuit, let's breake up court.
Gooddy Dickison.
Where shall we next met?
Mawd.
At Mill.
But when?
Mrs.
At Night.
Meg.
To horse, to horse.
2.
VVhere's my Mamilian.
1.
And my Incubus.
Robin, stands amaz'd at this.
3.
My Tyger to bestri'd.
Mal.
My Puggie.
Mrs. Gen.
My horse.
All.
Away, away,
The night we have Feasted, now comes on the day.
Mrs.
Come sirrah, stoope your head like a tame jade,
VVhil'st I put on your Bridle.
Rob.
I pray Mistresse ride me as you would be rid.
Mrs.
That's at full speed,
Rob.
Nay, then Ile try Conclusions.
A great noyse within at their parting.
Mare Mare, see thou be,
And where I point thee carry me.
Exeunt.
Enter Mr. Generous, making him ready.
Gen.
I see what Man is loath to entertaine,
Offers it selfe to him most frequently,
And that which we most covet to embrace,
Doth seldome court us, and proves most averse;
For I, that never coo'd conceive a thought
Of this my woman worthy a rebuke,
(As one that in her youth bore her so fairely
That she was taken for a seeming Saint)
To render me such just occasion,
That I should now distrust her in her age;
Distrust! I cannot, that would bring me in
The poore aspersion of fond jealousie;
VVhich even from our first meeting I abhorr'd.
The Gentile fashion sometimes we observe
To sunder beds; but most in these hot monthes
Iune, Iuly August, so we did last night.
Now J (as ever tender of her health)
And therefore rising early as I use,
Entring her Chamber to bestow on her
A custom'd Visite; finde the Pillow swell'd,
The Curtaines neither drawne, nor bed layd down;
Which showes, she slept not in my house to night.
Should there be any contract betwixt her
And this my Groome, to abuse my honest trust
I should not take it well, but for all this
Yet cannot I be jealous. Robin—
Enter Robin.
Gen.
Is my horse safe, lusty, and in good plight?
What, feeds he well?
Rob.
Yes sir, he's broad buttock'd and full flanck'd, he doth
not bate an ace of his flesh.
Gen.
When was he rid last?
Rob.
Not sir since you backt him.
Gen.
Sirrah, take heed I finde you not a Knave,
Have you not lent him to your Mistresse late?
So late as this last Night?
Rob.
Who I sir, may I dye sir, if you finde me in a lye sir.
Gener.
Then I shall finde him where I left him last.
Robin.
No doubt Sir.
Gener.
Give me the Key o'th Stable.
Robin.
There Sir.
Gen.
Sirrah, your Mistresse was abroad all night,
Nor is she yet come home, if there I finde him not,
I shall finde thee, what to this present houre
I never did suspect; and I must tell theee
Will not be to thy profit.
Exit.
Rob.
Well sir, finde what you can, him you shall finde, and
what you finde else; it may be for that, instead of Gramercy
horse, you may say Gramercy Robin; you will beleeve there are
no Witches! had I not been late brideled, I coo'd have sayd
more, but I hope she is ty'd to the racke that will confesse something,
and though not so much as I know, yet no more then I
dare justifie—
Have you found your Gelding sir?
Gen.
Yes, I have.
I hope not spurr'd, nor put into a sweat, you may see
by his plump belly and sleeke legs he hath not bin sore travail'd.
Gener.
Y'are a sawcy Groome to receive horses
Into my Stable, and not aske me leave.
Is't for my profit to buy Hay and Oates
For every strangers jades?
Rob.
I hope sir you finde none feeding there but your owne,
if there be any you suspect, they have nothing to champe on,
but the Bridle.
Gener.
Sirrah, whose jade is that ty'd to the Racke?
Rob.
The Mare you meane sir?
Gener.
Yes, that old Mare.
Rob.
Old doe you call her? You shall finde the marke still in
her mouth, when the Bridle is out of it? I can assure you 'tis
your owne Beast.
Gen.
A beast thou art to tell me so, hath the wine
Not yet left working? not the Myter wine?
That made thee to beleeve VVitchcraft?
Prithee perswade me,
To be a drunken Sot like to thy selfe;
And not to know mine owne.
Rob.
Ile not perswade you to any thing, you will beleeve
nothing but what you see, J say the Beast is your owne, and
you have most right to keepe her, shee hath cost you more the
currying, then all the Combs in your Stable are worth. You
have paid for her Provender this twentie yeares and upwards,
and furnisht her with all the Caparisons that she hath worne, of
my Knowledge, and because she hath been ridden hard the last
Night, doe you renounce her now?
Gener.
Sirrah, I feare some stolne jade of your owne
That you would have me keepe.
Rob.
I am sure I found her no jade the last time I rid her, she
carried me the best part of a hundred Miles in lesse then a quarter
of an houre.
Gener.
The divell she did!
Robin.
Yes so I say, either the divell or she did; an't please
you walke in and take off her Bridle, and then tell me who hath
more right to her, you or I.
VVell Robert, for this once Ile play the Groome,
And doe your office for you.
Exit.
Rob.
I pray doe Sir, but take heed lest when the Bridle is out
of her mouth, she put it not into yours; if she doe, you are a
gone man: if she but say once—Horse, horse, see thou be.
Be you rid (if you please) for me.
Enter Mr. Generous, and Mrs. Generous, he with a Bridle.
Gen.
My blood is turn'd to Ice, and my all vitals
Have ceas'd their working! dull stupidity
Surpriseth me at once, and hath arrested
That vigorous agitation; VVhich till now
Exprest a life within me: I me thinks
Am a meere Marble statue, and no man;
Vnweave my age O time, to my first thread;
Let me loose fiftie yeares in ignorance spent:
That being made an infant once againe,
I may begin to know, what? or where am I
To be thus lost in wonder.
Mrs. Gen.
Sir.
Gen.
Amazement still pursues me, how am I chang'd
Or brought ere I can understand my selfe,
Into this new VVorld.
Rob.
You will beleeve no VVitches?
Gen.
This makes me beleeve all, I any thing;
And that my selfe am nothing: prithee Robin
Lay me to my selfe open, what art thou,
Or this new transform'd Creature?
Rob.
I am Robin, and this your wife, my Mrs.
Gen,
Tell me the Earth
Shall leave it's seat, and mount to kisse the Moone;
Or that the Moone enamour'd of the Earth,
Shall leave her spheare, to stoope to us thus low.
VVhat? what's this in my hand, that at an instant
Can from a foure leg'd Creature, make a thing
So like a wife?
Rob.
A Bridle, a jugling Bridle Sir.
Gen.
A Bridle, hence inchantment,
Casts it away. Robin takes it up.
Then this charm'd Engine
Rob.
Take heed Sir what you do, if you cast it hence, and she
catch it up, we that are here now, may be rid as far as the Indies
within these few houres, Mistresse down of your Mares bones,
or your Mary-bones whether you please, and confesse your selfe
to be what you are; and that's in plaine English a Witch, a
grand notorius Witch.
Gen.
A Witch! my wife a Witch!
Rob.
So it appeares by the storie.
Gener.
The more I strive to unwinde
My selfe from this Meander, I the more
Therein am intricated; prithee woman
Art thou a Witch?
Mrs.
It cannot be deny'd, I am such a curst Creature.
Gen.
Keep aloofe, and doe not come too neare me, O my trust;
Have I since first I understood my selfe,
Bin of my soule so charie, still to studie
What best was for it's health, to renounce all
The workes of that black Fiend with my best force
And hath that Serpent twin'd me so about,
That I must lye so often and so long
With a Divell in my bosome!
Mrs.
Pardon sir.
Gen.
Pardon! Can such a thing as that be hop'd?
Lift up thine eyes (lost woman) to yon Hils;
It must be thence expected: look not down
Vnto that horrid dwelling, which thou hast sought
At such deare rate to purchase, prithee tell me,
(For now I can beleeve) art thou a Witch?
Mrs.
I am.
Gen.
VVith that word I am thunderstrooke,
And know not what to answer, yet resolve me
Hast thou made any contract with that Fiend
The Enemy of Mankind?
Mrs.
O I have.
Gen.
What? and how farre?
Mrs.
I have promis'd him my soule.
Gen.
Ten thousand times better thy Body had
To have suffer'd with thee in a hedge of flames:
Then such a compact ever had bin made. Oh—
Rob.
What cheere sir, show your selfe a man, though she appear'd
so late a Beast; Mistresse confesse all, better here than in
a worse place, out with it.
Gen.
Resolve me, how farre doth that contract stretch?
Mrs.
What interest in this Soule, my selfe coo'd claime
I freely gave him, but his part that made it
I still reserve, not being mine to give.
Gen.
O cunning Divell, foolish woman know
Where he can clayme but the least little part,
He will usurpe the whole; th'art a lost woman.
Mrs.
I hope not so.
Gen.
Why hast thou any hope?
Mrs.
Yes Sir I have.
Gen.
Make it appeare to me.
Mrs.
I hope I never bargain'd for that fire,
Further then penitent teares have power to quench.
Gen.
I would see some of them.
Mrs.
You behold them now.
(If you looke on me with charitable eyes)
Tinctur'd in blood, blood issuing from the heart,
Sir I am sorry; when I looke towards Heaven
I beg a gracious Pardon; when on you
Me thinkes your Native goodnesse should not be
Lesse pittifull than they: 'gainst both I have err'd.
From both I beg attonement.
Gener.
May I presum't?
Mrs.
I kneele to both your Mercies.
Gener.
Know'st thou what a VVitch is?
Mrs.
Alas, None better,
Or after mature recollection can be
More sad to thinke on't.
Gen.
Tell me, are those teares
As full of true hearted penitence,
As mine of sorrow, to behold what state
Mrs.
Sir they are.
Gen.
Rise, and as I doe, so heaven pardon me;
We all offend, but from such falling off,
Defend us. Well, I doe remember wife,
When I first tooke thee, 'twas for good and bad;
O change thy bad to good, that I may keep thee,
As then we past our faiths, till Death us sever.
I will not aggravate thy griefe too much,
By Needles iteration: Robin hereafter
Forget thou hast a tongue, if the least Syllable
Of what hath past be rumour'd, you loose me;
But if I finde you faithfull, you gaine me ever.
Rob.
A match sir, you shall finde me as mute as if I had the
Bridle still in my mouth.
Gen.
O woman thou had'st need to weepe thy selfe
Into a fountaine, such a penitent spring
As may have power to quench invisible flames
In which my eyes shall ayde; too little all,
If not too little, all's forgiven, forgot;
Only thus much remember, thou had'st extermin'd
Thy selfe out of the blest society
Of Saints and Angels, but on thy repentance
I take thee to my Bosome, once againe,
My wife, sister, and daughter: saddle my Gelding,
Some businesse that may hold me for two dayes
Calls me aside.
Exeunt.
Rob.
I shall Sir, well now my Mistresse hath promis'd to give
over her Witchery, I hope though I still continue her man, yet
she will make me no more her journey-man; to prevent which
the first thing I doe shall be to burne the Bridle, and then away
with the Witch.
Exit.
Enter Arthur and Doughty.
Arth.
Sir you have done a right noble courtesie, which deserves
a memory, as long as the name of friendship can beare
mention.
What I have done, I ha' done, if it be well, 'tis well,
J doe not like the bouncing of good Offices, if the little care I
have taken shall doe these poore people good, I have my end
in't, and so my reward.
Enter Bantam.
Bant.
Now Gentlemen, you seeme very serious.
Arth.
'Tis true we are so, but you are welcome to the knowledge
of our affayres.
Bant.
How does thine Vncle and Aunt, Gregory and his sister,
the Families of Seelyes agree yet, can you tell?
Arth.
That is the businesse, the Seely houshold is divided now.
Bant.
How so I pray?
Arth.
You know, and cannot but with pitty know
Their miserable condition, how
The good old couple were abus'd, and how
The young abus'd themselves; if we may say
That any of hem are their selves at all
Which sure we cannot, nor approve them fit
To be their owne disposers, that would give
The governance of such a house and living
Into their Vassailes hands, to thrust them out on't
VVithout or Law or order, this consider'd
This Gentleman and my selfe have taken home
By faire entreaty, the old folkes to his house,
The young to mine, untill some wholesome order
By the judicious of the Common-wealth,
Shall for their persons and estate be taken.
Bant.
But what becomes of Lawrence and his Parnell?
The lusty couple, what doe they now?
Dough.
Alas poore folks, they are as farre to seeke of how
they doe, or what they doe, or what they should doe, as any of
the rest, they are all growne Ideots, and till some of these damnable
jades, with their divellish devises bee found out, to discharme
them, no remedy can be found, I mean to lay the Country
for their Hagships, and if J can anticipate the purpose, of
their grand Mr. Divell to confound 'em before their lease be out,
be sure ile do 't.
Cry.
A Skimington, a Skimmington, a Skimington.
Dough.
Whats the matter now, is Hell broke loose?
Enter Mr Shakstone.
Arth.
Tom Shakstone, how now, canst tell the newes?
Sha.
The news, ye heare it up i'th aire, do you not?
Within.
A Skimington, a Skimington, a Skimington.
Sha.
Hearke ye, do you not heare it? theres a Skimington, towards
gentlemen.
Dou.
Ware Wedlocke hoe.
Bant.
At whose suit I prithee is Don Skimington come to
towne.
Sha.
Ile tell you gentlemen, since you have taken home old
Seely and his wife to your house, and you their son and daughter
to yours, the house-keepers Lawrence, and his late bride
Parnell are fallen out by themselves.
Arth.
How prithee?
Sha.
The quarell began they say upon the wedding night, and
in the bride bed.
Bant.
For want of bedstaves?
Sha.
No but a better implement it seemes the bridegroome
was unprovided of, a homely tale to tell.
Dou.
Now out upon her shee has a greedy worme in her, I
have heard the fellow complain'd on, for an over mickle man among
the maids.
Arth.
Is his haste to goe to bed at afternoone come to this
now?
Dough.
Witchery, witchery, more witcherie still flat and
plaine witchery. Now do I thinke upon the codpeece point the
young jade gave him at the wedding: shee is a witch, and that
was a charme, if there be any in the World.
Arth.
A ligatory point.
Bant.
Alas poore Lawrence.
Sha.
He's comming to make his mone to you about it, and she
too, since you have taken their masters & mistresses to your care,
you must do them right too.
Dough.
Marry but ile not undertake her at these yeares, if
lusty Lawrence cannot do't.
Bant.
But has she beaten him?
Grievously broke his head in I know not how many
places: of which the hoydens have taken notice, and will have
a Skimmington on horse-backe presently. Looke ye, here comes
both plaintiffe and defendant.
Enter Lawrence and Parnell.
Dough.
How now Lawrence, what has thy wedlock brought
thee already to thy night-cap?
Lawr.
Yie gadwat sir, I ware wadded but aw to seun.
Par.
Han yeou reeson to complayne or ay trow yeou gaffer
Downought? Wa warth the day that ever I wadded a Downought.
Ar., Ban., Sha.
Nay hold Parnel hold.
Dough.
We have heard enough of your valour already, wee
know you have beaten him, let that suffice.
Parn.
Ware ever poore mayden betrayed as ay ware unto a
swagbellied Carle that cannot aw waw that cannot.
Dou.
What saies she?
Dou.
I know not, she catterwawles I think. Parnel be patient
good Parnell, and a little modest too, 'tis not amisse, wee know
not the relish of every eare that heares vs, lets talke within our
selves. Whats the defect? Whats the impediment? Lawrence
has had a lusty name among the Batchellors.
Par.
What he ware when he ware a Batchelor, I know better
than the best maid ith tawne. I wad I had not.
Ar., Ba., Sha.
Peace Parnell.
Par.
'Tware that, that cossen'd me, he has not now as he had
than?
Ar., Ba., Sha.
Peace good Parnell.
Parn.
For then he could, but now he connot, he connot.
Ar., Ba., Sha
Fie Parnel fie.
Par.
I say agen and agean, hee
connot, he connot.
Ar., Ba., Sha.
Alas poore Parnel.
Par.
I am not a bit the better for him sin wye ware wad.
Cries
Dou.
Heres good stuffe for a jurie of women to passe upon.
Arth.
But Parnel, why have you beaten him so grievously?
What would you have him doe in this case?
Dou.
He's out of a doing case it seemes.
Marry sir, and beat him will I into his grave, or backe to
the Priest, and be unwaddded agone, for I wonot bee baund to
lig with him and live with him the laife of an honest woman
for aw the layves good i' Loncoshire.
Dou.
An honest woman: thats a good mind Parnel What
say you to this Lawrence?
Law.
Keepe her of o'me, and I shan teln yeou, and she be by
I am no body: But keep her off and search me, let me be searcht
as never witch was searcht, and finde ony thing mor or lasse upo
me than a sufficient mon shold have, and let me be honckt by't.
Art.
Do you heare this Parnell?
Par.
Ah leear, leear, deell tacke the leear, troist yee and
hong yee.
Dou.
Alasse it is too plaine, the poore fellow is bewitcht.
Heres a plaine Maleficium versus hanc now.
Ar.
And so is she bewitcht too into this immodesty.
Ban.
She would never talke so else
Law.
I prayn yeow gi' me the lere o'that Latine sir.
Dough.
The meaning is, you must get halfe a dozen bastards
Within this twelvemoneth, and that will mend your next marriage.
Law.
And I thought it would ma' Parnel, love me i'd be sure
on't, and gang about it now right.
Sha.
Y'are soone provided it seems for such a journey.
Dou
Best tarry till thy head be whole Lawrence.
Pa.
Nay, nay, ay's white casten away ent I be vnwadded agen.
And then ine undertack to find 3 better husbands in a bean cod.
Sha.
Hearke gentlemen, the shew is comming.
Ar.
What shall we stay & see't.
Ban.
O by all means Gent.
Dou.
'Tis best to have these away first.
Par.
Nay mary shan yeou not sir, I heare yeou well enogh, & I
con the meaning o'the show well enogh, & I stay not the show
& see not the show, & ma'one i'the show, let me be honckt up
for a show ile ware them to mel or ma with a woman that mels
or mae's with a testril a longie, a dowlittle losell that connot, &
if I skim not their skimingtons cockskeam for't, ma that warplin
boggle me a week lonker, & thats a curse eno' for any wife I tro.
Agreed, perhaps 'twill mend the sport.
Enter drum (beating before) a Skimington, and his wife on a horse; Divers country rusticks (as they passe) Par. (puls Skimington of the horse: and Law. Skimingtons wife: they beat em. Drum beats alar. horse comes away: The hoydens at first oppose the Gentlemen: who draw: the clownes vaile bonnet, (make a ring Par. and Skim. fight.
Dou.
Beat drum alarum.
Enough, engugh, here my masters: now patch up your shew
if you can, and catch your horse again, and when you have done
drinke that.
Rabble.
Thanke your worship.
Exeunt shout.
Par.
Lat'hem as they laik this gang a procession with their aydoll
Skimington agean.
Arth.
Parnel. thou didst bravely.
Parn.
I am sure I han drawne blood o'theyr aydoll.
Law.
And I thinke I tickled his waife.
Par.
Yie to be sure, yeou bene eane of the owd ticklers.
But with what con yeou tell?
Law
Yieu with her owne ladel.
Par.
Yie marry a ladell is something.
Dou.
Come you have both done well, goe in to my house, see
your old master and mistresse, while I travell a course to make
yee all well againe, I will now a witch hunting.
Par.
Na course for hus but to be unwadded agone.
Arth, Sha., Bant.
Wee are for
Whet.
and his Aunt you know.
Dou.
Farewell, farewell.
Exeunt.
Enter Mrs. Generous, and Mal. Spencer.
Welcome, welcome, my girle, what hath thy puggy
yet suckt upon thy pretty duggy?
Mal
All's well at home, and abroad too.
What ere I bid my Pug, hee'l doo. You sent for mee?
Mrs.
I did.
Mal.
And why?
Mrs.
Wench ile tell thee, thou and I
Will walk a little, how doth Meg?
And her Mamillion.
Mal.
Of one leg
Shee's growne lame.
Because the beast
Dismisse us last Goodfriday Feast,
I gest as much.
Mal.
But All-Saints night
She met though she did halt downe right.
Mrs.
Dickison and Hargrave prithee tel,
How do they?
Mal.
All about us well.
But Puggy whisperd in mine eare
That you of late were put in feare.
Mrs.
The slave my man.
Mal.
Who Robin?
Mrs.
Hee.
Mal.
My Sweet-heart?
Mrs.
Such a tricke serv'd me.
Mal.
About the bridle, now alacke.
Mrs.
The villain brought me to the rack.
Tyed was I both to rack and manger
Mal.
But thence how scap't you?
Mrs.
Without danger, I thank my spirit
Mal.
I but than
How pacified was your good man?
Mrs.
Some passionate words mixt with forc't tears
Did so inchant his eyes and eares
I made my peace, with promise never
To doe the like; but once and ever
A Witch thou know'st. Now understand
New businesse wee tooke in hand.
My Husband packt out of the towne
Know that the house, and all's our owne.
Enter VVhetstone.
Whet.
Naunt, is this your promise Naunt? (What Mal! How
doest thou Mal?) You told mee you would put a tricke upon
these Gentlemen, whom you made me invite to supper, who
abused and called me bastard. (And when shall I get one upon
thee my sweet Rogue:) And that you would doe I know not
what; for you would not tell mee what you would doe. And
shall you and I never have any doing together) supper is done,
and the table ready to withdraw: And I am risen the earliest
neerer What not one kisse at parting Mal?
Mrs.
Well Cozen this is all you have to do:
Retire the Gallants to some privat roome,
Where call for wine, and junckets what you please,
Then thou shalt need to do no other thing
Than what this note directs thee, observe that
And trouble me no farther.
Whet.
Very good, I like this beginning well: for where they
sleighted me before, they shall finde me a man of note.
Exit.
Mal.
Of this the meaning.
Mrs.
Marry Lasse
To bring a new conceit to passe.
Thy Spirit must borrow more,
To fill the number three or foure;
Whom we will use to no great harm,
Only assist me with thy charme.
This night wee'l celebrate to sport:
'Tis all for mirth, we mean no hurt.
Mal.
My Spirit and my selfe command;
Mamillion, & the rest at hand, shall all assist.
Mrs.
Withdraw then, quicke,
Now gallants, ther's for you a trick.
Exeunt
Enter Whetstone, Arthur, Shakstone, Bantam.
Whet.
Heer's a more privat roome gentlemen, free from the
noise of the Hall. Here we may talke, and throw the chamber
out of the casements. Some wine and a short banquet.
Enter with a Banquet, Wine, and two Tapers.
Whet.
So now leave us.
Arth.
VVee are much bound to you master Whetstone.
For this great entertainment: I see you command
The house in the absence of your vnkle.
Whet.
Yes, I thanke my Aunt; for though I be but a daily guest
yet I can be welcome to her at midnight.
How shall we passe the time?
Bant.
In some discourse.
Whet.
But no such discourse as we had last, I beseech you.
Bant.
Now master Whetstone you reflect on me.
'Tis true, at our last meeting some few words
Then past my lips, which I could wish forgot:
I thinke I call'd you Bastard.
Whet.
I thinke so too; but whats that amongst friends, for I
would faine know which amongst you all knowes his owne father.
Bant.
You are merrie with your friends, good master By-Blow,
and wee are guests here in your Vnckles house, and therefore
priviledged.
Enter Mistresse Generous, Mal and Spirits.
Whet.
I presume you had no more priviledge in your getting
than I. But tell me gentlemen, is there any man here amongst
you, that hath a minde to see his father?
Bant.
Why, who shall shew him?
VVhet.
Thats all one; if any man here desire it, let him but
speake the word, and 'tis sufficient.
Bant.
Why, I would see my father.
Mistresse Gener.
Strike.
Musique.
Enter a Pedant dauncing to the musique; the strain don, he points at Bantam, & looks full in his face.
VVhet.
Doe you know him that lookes so full in your face?
Bant.
Yes well, a pedant in my fathers house.
Who beeing young, taught me my A, B, C.
Whet.
In his house, that goes for your father you would say:
For know one morning, when your mothers husband rid early
to have a Nisi prius tryed at Lancaster Syzes, hee crept into his
warme place, lay close by her side, and then were you got. Then
come, your heeles and tayle together, and kneele unto your own
deare father.
Ha, ha, ha.
Bant.
I am abused.
Whet.
Why laugh you Gentlemen? It may be more mens
cases than his or mine.
Bant.
To be thus geer'd.
Arth.
Come, take it as a jest
For I presume 'twas meant no otherwise.
Whet.
Would either of you two now see his father in earnest
Shak
Yes, canst thou shew me mine?
Mrs. Gen.
Strike.
Enter a nimble Taylor dauncing, using the same posture to Shakstone.
Whet.
Hee lookes on you, speake, doe you know him?
Shak.
Yes, he was my mothers Taylor, I remember him ever
since I was a childe.
Whet.
Who when hee came to take measure of her upper
parts had more minde to the lower, whilest the good man was
in the fields hunting, he was at home whoring.
Come downe, come downe aske blessing of your dad.
All
Ha, ha, ha.
Bant.
This cannot be indur'd.
Arth.
It is plaine Witchcraft.
Nay since we all are bid unto one feast,
Lets fare alike, come shew me mine too.
Mrs Gener.
Strike.
Enter Robin with a switch and a Currycombe, he points at Arthur.
Whet
He points at you.
Arth.
What then?
Whet.
You know him.
Arth.
Yes, Robin the groome belonging to this house.
Whet.
And never served your father?
Arth.
In's youth I thinke he did.
Whet.
Who when your supposed father had businesse at
the Lord Presidents Court in Yorke, stood for his Atturney at
home, & so it seems you were got by deputy: what all a mort? if
And know I shew you him the rather,
To finde who hath the best man to his Father.
Mrs.
Strike—
Musicke. Enter a Gallant, as before to him.
Whet.
Now Gentlemen make me your President, learne
your duties, and doe as I doe—A blessing Dad.
Whet.
Come, come, let's home, we'l finde some other time,
When to dispute of these things—
Whet.
Nay Gent. no parting in spleene, since we have begun
in mirth, let's not end in melancholy; you see there are more
By-blowes than beare the name; It is growne a great kindred
in the Kingdome. Come, come, all friends; Let's into the Cellar
and conclude our Revels in a lusty health.
Shak.
I faine would strike, but cannot.
Bant.
Some strange fate holds me.
Arth.
Here then all anger end,
Let none be mad at what they cannot mend.
Exeunt.
Mal.
Now say what's next?
Mrs.
I'th' Mill there lyes
A Souldier yet with unscratcht eyes,
Summon the Sister-hood together
For we with all our Spirits will thither;
And such a Catterwalling keepe,
That he in vaine shall thinke to sleepe.
Call Meg, and Doll, Tib, Nab, and Iug,
Let none appeare without her Pug.
We'l try our utmost Art and skill.
To fright the stout Knave in the Mill.
Exeunt.
| The late Lancashire VVitches | |