 | Fortune by Land and Sea |  |
Act. 1.
Scen. 1.
Enter Mr. Raynsfoorth, old Mr. Forrest, Frank Forrest, Susan Forrest, Goodwin and Mr. Foster, 2. Gentlemen.Rayns.
I prithee
Frank lets have thy company to supper.
Frank.
With all my heart if I can but give my Father
here the slip by six a clock I will not fail.
Rayns.
Ile talk with him, I prithee old man lends
thy son to night, wee'le borrow him but some two hours, and send
him home agen to thee presently.
Good.
Faith do Mr. Forrest, he cannor spend his time in better company.
Old For.
Oh Gentlemen, his too much liberty breeds many strange
outragious ills in youth, and fashions them to vice.
Rayns.
Nay school us not old man, some of us are too old to learn,
and being past whipping too, there's no hope of profiting; if we shall
have him say so? if not, I prithee keep him still, and God give the good
of him,
Frank.
Nay will you be gone, Ile be at the heels of you as I live.
Fost.
'Tis enough, nay come, and if we shall go, let's go:
Old For.
Nay Gentlemen do not mistake me pray, I love my son, but
do not doat on him; nor is he such a darling in mine eye, that I am
lought to have him from my sight; yet let me tell you, had you gentlemen
called him to any fairer exercise, as practice of known weapons,
or to back some gallant gennet; had it been to dance, leap in the fields,
to wrestle, or to try masteries in any noble quality, I could have spared
him to you half his age:
I hold that much us'd practice, the most ill.
Frank.
I told him you would still be urging him, and see what
comes on't. I Per sequar.
Rayns.
Sir what we doe's in love, and let you know we do not need
his purse nor his acquaintance, nor if you should mistake, can we be sorry
nor wound to ask your pardon: fare ye well, come Gentlemen.
Frank.
will you be gone? Ile come.
Oh sonne that thou wilt follow rioting, surfeit by drinking
and unseasoned hours; these Gentlemen perhaps may do't they're
rich, well landed, and their Fathers purchase dayly, where I heaven
knowes the world still frowning on me, am forc'd to sell and Margage
to keep you. His brother rancks himself with the best gallants that flourish
in the Kingdom, thee not able to spend with them, yet for his vertuous
parts he is borne out, his person woed and sought, and they more
bound to him for his discourse then he to them for their expence and
cost. Thy course is otherwise, all drinking healths, cups of muld Sack, and
glasses elbow deep: drink in thy youth, maintain thee in thine age, no
'twill not hold out boy.
Frank.
My company hath not been to your purse so chargeable;
I do not spend so much.
Old Forr.
Thou spendest thy time more pretious then thy coyn,
consumest thy hopes, thy fortunes and thy after exyectations, in drowning
surfeits, tell me canst thou cal that thrift to be in all these prodigal.
Mine is the care, the loss or profit thine.
Exit.
Susan.
Brother be ruled, my Father grieves to see you given to these
boundless riots, will you follow?
Frank.
Lead you the way, Ile after you.
Susan.
'Tis well, hee'l look for you within,
Frank.
When? can you tel?
Exeunt severally.
Enter Raynsfoorth, Goodwin, and Foster.
Rayns.
Boy my cloak.
Goodw.
Our cloaks sirrah.
Enter a Drawer.
Fost.
Why Drawer.
1. Drawer
Here Sir.
Rayns.
Some Canary Sack and Tobacco.
Draw.
You shall Sir, wilt please you stay supper?
Rayns.
Yes marry will we Sir, lets have the best cheer the kitchin
yeilds: the pipe sirrah,
Drawer.
Here Sir.
Rayns.
Will Frank be here at supper?
Goodw.
So Sir he promis'd, and presumes he wil not fail his hour.
Rayns.
Some Sack boy, I am all lead within, ther's no mirth in me, nor
was I wont to be so lumpish sad: reach me the glasse: what's
this?
Draw.
Good Sherry Sack Sir.
Rayns.
I meant Canary Sir, what hast no brains?
Pox a your brains, are your fingers so light.
Rains.
Say sir.
Draw.
You shall have Cannary presently.
Goodw.
When was he wont to be in this sad strain, excepting some
few sudden melanchollies, there lives not one more free and sociable.
Fost.
I am too well acquainted with his humour, to stir his blood in
the least distemperature; Cose Ile be with you here.
Enter Drawer.
Rains.
Do, come to me; have you hit upon the right Cannary now
or could your Hogshead find a Spanish But? A health.
Goodw.
Were it my height Ile pledge it.
Fost.
How do you now man?
Rains.
Well, well, exceeding well, my melancholly sadness steals away,
and by degrees shrinks from my troubled heart: Come let's be merry,
more Tobacco boy, and bring in supper.
Enter Frank Forrest.
Fost.
Frank, welcom, welcom, wilt thou be here old lad?
Goodw.
Or here?
Fran.
Wherefore hath nature lent me two hands but to use them
both at once (my cloak) I am for you here and here.
Fost.
Bid them make haste of supper; some discourse to pass away
the time.
Rains.
Now Frank, how stole you from your Fathers arms? you
have been schooled no doubt; fie, fie upon't, e'r I would live such base
servitude to an old gray beard, Sfoot Ide hang my self. A man cannot
be merry and drink drunk, but he must be controled by gravity.
For.
O pardon him, you know he is my father, and what he doth is
but paternal love; though I be wild, I am not so past reason, his
person to despise, though I his counsel cannot severely follow.
Rains.
Sfoot he's a fool.
Fran.
A fool; y'are a---
Fost.
Nay Gentlemen.
Frank.
Yet I restrain my tongue, hoping
you speak out of some spleenful rashness, and no deliberate malice:
And 'tmay be you are sorry that a word so unreverent to wrong so
good an aged Gentleman should pass you unawares.
Rains.
Sorry, Sir boy, you will not take exceptions.
Fra.
Not against you with willingness, whom I have loved so long;
yet you might think me a most dutiless and ungracious Son to give
smooth countenance unto my fathers wrong; come, I dare swear 'twas
not your malice, and I take it so; lets frame some other talk, hear Gentlemen.
Rains.
But hear me boy, it seems Sir you are angry.
Fra.
Not throughly yet.
Rains.
Then what would anger thee?
Fra.
Nothing from you.
Of all things under heaven what wouldest thou loathest have
me do?
Fra.
I would not have you wrong my reverent Father, and I hope
you will not.
Rains.
Thy Father's an old dotard.
Fran.
I could not brook this at a Monarchs hands, much lesse at
thine.
Rains.
I boy, then take you that.
[Flings wine in's face.
Fra.
I was not born to brook this, oh I am slain.
Goodw.
Sweet Cose what have you done; shift for your self.
Rains.
Away.
Exeunt.
Enter two Drawers.
1. Draw.
Stay the Gentlemen, they have kild a man: O sweet Mr.
Francis; one run to his Fathers.
2. Draw.
Had not we Drawers enough in the house, but they must
needs draw too?
1. Draw.
They have drawn blood of this Gentleman that I have
drawn many a quart of wine to: Oh sweet Mr. Francis; hark, hark, I
hear his Fathers voice below, ten to one he is come to fetch him home
to supper, and now he may carry him home to his grave: Seehere
he comes.
Enter the Host, Mr. Forrest, and Susan.
Host:
You must take comfort, Sir.
old For.
Would heaven I could, or that I might beg patience.
Sus.
Oh my brother.
old For.
Is he dead, is he dead girl.
Sus.
Oh dead sir, Frank is dead.
old For.
Alass, alass my boy, I have not the heart to look upon his
wide and gaping wounds: Hide them, oh hide them from me, lest those
mouthes through which his life past through swallow mine: Pray tell
me, Sir, doth this appear to you fearful and pittiful, to you that are a
stranger to my dead boy?
Host.
How can it otherwise?
old For.
Oh me most wretched of all wretched men, if to a stranger
his warm bleeding wounds appear so griesly, and so lamentable, how
will they seem to me that am his Father? will they not hale my eyeballs
from their rounds, and with an everlasting blindness strike 'em.
Sus.
Oh Sir, look here.
old For.
Do'st thou long to have me blind, then Ile behold them since
I know thy mind: oh me is this my sonne that doth so sensless lye,
and swims in blood, my soul shall fly with his
Being kild with grief we both may have one grave.
Sus.
Alass my Father's dead too gentle Sir, help to retire his spirits
over-travell'd with age and sorrow.
Host.
Mr. Forrest.
Sus.
Father.
old For.
What saies my girl? good morrow; what's a clock that
you are up so early? call up Frank, tell him he lies too long a bed this
morning: was wont to call the Sun up, and to raise the early Lark,
and mount her 'mongst the clouds; will he not up, rise, rise thou sluggish
boy.
Sus.
Alass he cannot Father.
old For.
Cannot, why?
Sus.
Do you not see his bloodless colour fail.
old For.
Perhaps he's sickly that he looks so pale.
Sus.
Do you not feel his pulse no motion keep? how still he lies.
old For.
Then is he fast asleep?
Sus.
Do you not see his fatal eye-lide close.
old For.
Speak softly, hinder not his soft repose.
Sus.
Oh see you not these purple conduits run, know you these
wounds?
old Fost.
Oh me my murdered Son.
Enter young Mr. Forrest.
Mr. For.
Sister.
Sus.
O brother, brother.
Mr. For.
Father, how cheer you Sir? why you were wont to store
for others comfort that by sorrow were any way distrest, have you all
wasted, and spared none to your self.
old For.
Oh Son, son, son, see alass, see where thy brother lies, he
dined with me to day, was merry, merry, eye that course was, he that
lies here, see there thy murdered brother, and my son was, see doest
not thou not weep for him.
Mr. For.
I shall find time,
When you have took some comfort Ile begin
To mourn his death, and scourge the murderers sin.
Dear father be advised, take hence his body, and let it have a solemn funeral.
old For.
But for the murderer, shall not he attend the sentence of the
Law with all severity.
Mr. For.
Have you but patience, should we urge the Law he hath
such honourable friends to guard him, we should in that but bark against
the Moon; nay do not look that way, take hence the body, let the Law
sleep, the time ere it be long, may offer't self to a more just revenge:
then bear this amongst the rest: The heavens when they be pleased may
turn the wheel of Fortune round, when we that are dejected, may be again
raised to our former height.
old For.
Oh when saw Father such a tragick sight,
And did outlive it, never sonne, ah never
From mortal breast run such a pretious River.
Mr. For.
Come Father and dear Sister joyn with me,
Let us all learn our sorrows to forget,
He owed a death, and he hath payd that debt.
Exeunt.
Scen. 2.
Enter old Mr. Harding, his two sonnes William and John, his Wife Anne, as newly come fram the Wedding.old Hard.
So things are as they should be, we have attained the height
of solace and true joy, sweet Nau no, sooner married but a Mother of
this my hopeful Issue, cheer thoughts, for what I want in youth I wil supply
in true affection, and what age doth scant me in sprightly vigour, Ile
make good in wealth.
Anne:
Sir, you well know I was not easily wonne, and therefore
not soon changed; advisedly, not rashly did I venter on your love. My
young unsetled thoughts from their long travels have late attained unto
their journeys end, and they are now at rest.
old Hard.
Here they have found a harbour to retire to.
Wil:
'Twould become you to use my Father here respectively: you
see how he receives you almost dowerless.
Joh.
'True, where he out of his own abilities might have commanded
Widdows richer farre, I, and perhaps each way as beautiful.
Anne:
Upbraid me not, I do confess he might, nor was this match
my seeking: If it hath pleased your father for some virtues known in
me, to grace me with his free election: Me-thinks it worse becomes you
being sonnes to blame a Fathers pleasure; howsoever better my self I
cannot if he thought me
Should wrong me to him that my state best knew.
old Hard.
Naus, I am pleased they shall be satisfied; and boyes I tell
you, though you be my sonnes, you much forget your duty to a Mother
whom I hold worthy to be called my Wife; no more of this I charg
you.
Wil:
Sir, we have done.
old Hard:
No child to her, can be to me no Son.
I am pleased, here my spleen dyes,
Suddenly fallen as it did quickly rise.
old Hard:
This is the end I aim'd at, were my eldest present among us
much I had my height of wishes.
Enter Clown.
Clow.
I have been there, Sir.
old Hard.
And foundest thou my Son Philip?
Clow:
When you had given him me in charge, I had of him great care
I have took of him great care, and I have took him napping, as you
know who took his Mare: I found your son Philip like a Cocksparrow
billing: if I had stayed but a little longer, I might have taken him and
his hen treading, I know not whether it be St. Valentines day or no, but
I am sure they are coupled.
old Hard.
How coupled dost thou mean?
Clow:
I see them one and one, and that you know makes two, and
two makes a couple, and they well coupled, may in time make a third
between 'em; I do not think but tis like to be a match.
old Hard:
I vow if e'r he match into that family, the Kindred being
all begger'd, that forc'd union shall make a firm divorce 'twixt him and
mine.
Enter Philip and Susan.
Clow:
Here they are, Sir, coram nobis, you will find it a plain case if
the matter be well searcht; I have spoke but what I have seen; and now
let every one answer for themselves.
old Hard:
What means these hands?
Phil.
Nothing Sir, save a meer interchange of hearts and souls doubly
made fast by vows.
old Hard:
'Twixt her and thee!
Phil:
So, and no otherwise.
old Hard:
Yet thou hast time to pause, and to repeat but after this no
limit to consider; cast her off, or henceforth I disclaim thee for my
Son.
Phil:
Yet I shall ever hold you for my father.
old Hard:
Then shew in this thy duty, quite forsake her, and be restored
into my family.
Phil:
O Sir she is a virgin chaste and fair, unto whose bed I am by
oath engaged; that power above that heard the contract pass, both
heard, approved, and still records the same: Oh Sir I am of years, oft
have you wisht to see me well bestowed, and now's the time your wish
hath took effect. It was your prayer that heaven would send me a good
Wife, and lo in her they have shewed their bounty.
old Hard:
Thou thy baseness, take one that's of my chusing.
Do men use by other hearts and eyes their wives to chuse?
old Hard:
She's poor.
Phil:
Yet virtuous.
old Hard:
Virtue, a sweet dower.
Phil:
Yet that when Mammon fails retains her power.
old Hard:
Possest of virtue then thou need ought else.
Phil:
Riches may waste by fire, by sea, by stealth,
But water, fire, nor theft can virtue waste,
When all else fails us that alone shall last.
old Hard:
Go to Cheapside with virtue in your purse,
And cheapen Plate, or to the Shambles hye,
And see what meat with virtue you can buy.
Will virtue make the pot seeth, or the Jack turn a spit laden? tell me,
will your Landlord at quarter day take virtue for his rent? will your
Wives virtue yeeld you ten i'th hundred? a good stock would do all
this: Come, come Son, Ile find thee a rich match and turn her off.
Wil:
Faith doe brother, the onely way to thrive is to be ruled by my
Father.
John:
Do you think I being but the youngest, would marry under the
degree of a Gentlewoman, and that without my fathers consent too?
Phil:
I wish you may not, but withall advise you to make a conscience
how you break a vow: And Sir, for you, with pardon, I could trace
you even in that path in which I stnnd condemned: This Gentlewoman
my beauteous Mother-in-law, whose virtues I both honour, and admire,
whom in no kind I envy, I presume you married not for riches; for if so,
Where is that wealthy Dower she brought along? being your self example
blame me not to make a father my strict president.
And prove to her, as I to this like kind.
Anne:
The Gentleman speaks well, pray let me mediate between you
a reconcilement.
Wil:
Good Sir do.
Joh:
Since 'tis my Mothers pleasure to take't well, wee'l be joynt suitors
with her.
Clow.
And I too good Master.
old Hard:
the boy's inflexible, and I obdure, he cannot be more saucy
to object that which I would not hear then I perverse, in yeelding to a
knave so obstinate.
Sus.
He is your Son, and of your blood the first; brand him not
with a name so odious, you cannot write your self a Gentleman, but
leave him of that name inheritor, though you have power to take away
his means, deprive him both your blessing and your love,
Old Hard.
Bated on all sides: have I been thus long a Father and
a Master to direct, to be at these years pupil'd by a girle? a beggar,
one that all the welth she has, bears on her back, and shall I suffer this?
whilest these that ought to arm me with just rage, preach to me patience;
Ile endure no more, come leave them sweet wife, gentle sonnes
away.
Exeunt.
Phil.
Ile have thee yet though all the world say nay.
Clow.
Now which of these parties shall I cleave to and follow: well
now I remember my self Ile shew my self a true Citizen and stick to the
stronger side.
Exit.
Scen. 3.
Enter Mr. Raynsfoorth and young Mr. Forrest meeting.For.
Pray let me speak with you
Rayns.
With me Sir?
Forr.
With you.
Rayns.
Say on.
Forr.
Do you not know me?
Rayns.
Keep off upon the peril of thy life, come not within my
swords length least this Arm prove fatal to thee, and bereave thy life,
as it hath done thy brothers.
Forr.
Why now thou knowest me truely by that token, that thou
hast slain my brother, put up, put up, so great a quarrel as a brothers
life must not be made a street brall, 'tis not fit that every Apprentice
should with his shop-club, betwixt us play the sticklers, sheath thy
sword.
Rayns.
Swear thou wilt act no suddaine violence, or this sharp sword
shall still be enterpos'd 'twixt me and thy known hatred.
Young Forr.
Sheath thy sword, by my religion and that interest I
have in Gentry I will not be guilty of any base revenge.
Rayns.
Say on.
Forr.
Let's walk, trust me let not thy guilty soul be jealous of my
fury this my hand's curbed and governed by an honest heart, not by
just anger, Ile not touch thee soully for all the world: let's walk.
Rayns.
Proceed.
Forr.
Sir, you did kill my brother, had it been in faire and even encounter,
though a child, his death I had not questioned.
Rayns.
Is this all?
Forr.
Hee's gone, the Law is past, your life is cleared, for none of
all our kindred laid against you evidence to hang you; y'are a Gentleman,
and pity 'twere a man of your discent should dye a Fellons
death: See Sir, thus far we have demeaned fairly like our selves: but
so soon forgot, our Gentry baffel'd and our name disgrac'd? no t'must
not be, I am a Gentleman well known; and my demeaner hitherto
hath promist somewhat: should I swallow this, the scandal would out
live me: briefly then Ile fight with you.
Rayns.
I am loath.
Forr.
Answer directly whether you dare to meet me on even termes,
or mark how i'le proceed.
Rayns.
Say I deny't.
Forr.
Then I say thou art a villaine and I challenge thee, where ere
I meet thee next, in field or town, thy Fathers manners or thy Tennants
grange, saving the Church, there is no priviledge in all this land for thy
despised life; no guard of friends, no night walks, or sly stealth, no
jealous fear which in a murtherers eye keeps hourly watch, shall have
the priviledge: this even and ballanc'd fight body to body; Ile kill thee
be it in thy bed, at meat, in thy wives arms; as thou tookest my brother,
with thy back towards me, basely: answer me.
Rayns.
Ile meet with thee; the hour?
Forr.
By six to morrow morning, 'tis your priviledge to appoint the
place and weapon.
Rayns.
Hownselow the place, my choice of weapon this.
Forr.
I can except at neither; fail the place, or suit your weapons
length, farewel.
Exit.
Rayns.
Yes 'tis thou meetest thy last farewel on earth, the appoynted
hour's to morrow: let the same fate obscure his desperate head that
fell upon his brothers.
Enter Goodwin and Foster.
Goodw.
Now Cozen Raynsforth.
Rayns.
Ile so swinge my yonker.
Fost.
Why who hath raysed this storm Sir?
Rayns.
Wat'st thou what? The elder Forrest parted but even now,
call'd me to question 'bout his brothers death, and since hath challeng'd
me.
Goodw.
Challenged?
Rayns.
Challenged me.
Fost.
Why hee's too wea for you.
Rayns.
Yes, I shall weak him, my purpose is to teach the stripling
sence; And you be honest Gentlemen stand but a loofe to morrow,
and observe how I will swinge my youth about the field.
Goodw.
And please Heaven ile be there.
Fost.
And so will I.
Rayns.
He seekes his fate, and murderers once being in
Wade further till they drown; sin pulls on sin.
Exit.
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