 | The Excellent Comedy, called The Old Law |  |
Act. II.
Scen. I.
Enter Duke, 3. Courtiers and Executioner.Duke.
Executioner.
Exe.
My Lord.
Duke.
How did old Diocles take his death?
Exe.
As weeping Brides receive their joyes at night my Lord,
With trembling yet with patience.
Duke.
Why twas well.
1. Cour.
Nay I knew my Father would doe well my Lord.
When ere he came to die, i'de that opinion of him,
Which made me the more willing to part from him;
He was not fit to live i'th world indeede any time these
Ten yeares my Lord.
But I would not say so much.
Duke.
No, you did not well int,
For he thats all spent is ripe for death at all houers,
And does but trifle time out,
1. Cour.
Troath my Lord,
I would I had knowne your minde nine yeares agoe,
Duke,
Our Law is fourscore years, because we judge
Dotage compleat then, as unfruitfullnesse
In Women at threescore, marrie if the son
Can within compasse bring good sollid proofes
Of his own fathers weaknes and unfitnes
To live or sway the living though he want five
Or ten yeares of his number, thats not it,
His defect makes him fourscore, and tis fit
16
Is in effect then when the cause is ripe.
2. Court.
An admirable Prince how rarely he talks?
Oh that w'eed knowne this Ladds, what a time did we endure
In two penny Commons? and in bootes twice vamp'd.
1. Cour.
Now we have two paire a weeke, & yet not thankfull,
Twill be a fine world for them sirs that come after us.
2. Cour.
I and they knewt.
2. Cou.
Peace let them never knowt.
3. Cour.
A Pox there be yong heires will soone smelt out.
2. Court.
Twill come to em by instinct man, may your grace
Never be old, you stand so well for youth.
Duke.
Why now me thinks our Court lookes like a Spring,
Sweet, fresh, and fashionable, now the old weeds are gon.
1. Cour.
Tis as a Court should be: Glosse and good Clothes,
My Lord no matter for merit and herein your Law prooves a
provident act my Lord, when men passe not the palsie of their
Tongues, nor colour in their Cheeks.
Duke.
But women by that Law should live long,
For th'are neer past it.
1. Cour.
It will have heates though when they see the painting
Goe an inch deep ith wrincle, and take up
A box more then their Gossips, but for men my Lord
That should be the sole bravery of a Pallace,
To walke with hollow eyes and long white beards,
(As if a Prince dwelt in a Land of Goates)
With Clothes as if they sat upon their backs on purpose
To arraigne a fashion and condemn't to exile
Their pockets in their sleeves, as if they layd
Their eare to avarice, and heard the Divell whisper;
Now ours lie downward heere close to the flanck,
Right spending pockets as a sonnes should be
That lives ith fashion, where our diseased fathers
Would with the Sciatica and Aches
Brought up your paind hose first, which Ladies laught at,
Giving no reverence to the place, (lies ruind,)
They love a doublet thats three houres a buttoning,
And sits so close makes a man groane agen,
And his Soule matter halfe a day; yet these are those
That carry sway and worth, prickd up in Clothes,
17
Duk.
You but wrong
Our kindnesse, and your owne deserts to doubt ont,
Has not our Law made you rich before your time?
Our countenance then can make you honourable.
1. Court.
Weel spare for no cost sir to appeare worthy.
Duk.
Why y'are i'th noble way then, for the most
Are but appearers, worth it selfe it is lost
And bravery stands fort.
Enter Creon, Antigona & Simonides.
1. Court.
Look, look, who comes heere
I smell Death and another Courtier,
Simonides.
2. Cour.
Sim.
Sim.
Push, I'me not for you yet,
Your companies too costly, after the old mans
Dispatch'd I shall have time to talke with you,
I shall come into the fashion yee shall see too
After a day or two, in the meane time
I am not for your company.
Duke.
Old Creon you have been expected long,
Sure y'are above fourscore.
Sim.
Upon my life
Not four and twenty houres my Lord, I search'd
The Church Booke yesterdaie, does your Grace think
I'de let my Father wrong the Law my Lord?
Twere pitty a'my life then, no your Act
Shall not receive a minutes wrong by him
While I live sir, and hee's so just himselfe too
I know he would no offer't, heere he stands.
Creon.
Tis just I die indeed my Lord, for I confesse
I'me troublesome to life now, and the State
Can hope for nothing worthy from me now,
Either in force or counsell, I've alate
Employd my selfe quite from the World, and he that once
Begins to serve his maker faithfully
Can never serve a worldly Prince well after,
Tis cleane another way.
Anti.
Oh give not confidence
To all he speaks my Lord in his own injury!
18
Makes him talk wildly to his wrong of this,
He is not lost in judgement.
Sim.
She spoils all agen.
Anti.
Deserving any way for state imploiment.
Sim.
Mother.
Anti.
His very houshold laws prescrib'd at home by him
Are able to conform 7. Christian kingdomes,
They are so wise and vertuous.
Sim.
Mother, I say.
Anti.
I know your lawes extend not to desert sir,
But to unnecessary years, and my Lord
His are not such, though they shew white, they'r worthy,
Juditious, able, and religious.
Sim.
Ile help you to a Courtier of nineteen, Mother.
Anti.
Away unnaturall.
Sim.
Then I am no fool I'me sure,
For to be naturall at such a time
Were a fool s part indeed.
Anti.
Your Graces pity sir,
And tis but fit and just.
Creon.
The law my Lord,
And thats the justest way.
Sim,
Well said father ifaith.
Thou wert ever juster then my mother still.
Duke.
Come hither sir.
Sim.
My Lord.
Du.
What are those orders?
Antig.
Worth observation sir,
So please you hear them read.
Sim.
The woman speaks she knows not what my Lord:
He make a Law, poor man he bought a Table indeed,
Only to learn to die by't; ther's the busines now
Wherein there are some precepts for a son to,
How he should learn to live, but I neer lookt upont:
For when hees dead I shall live well enough,
And keep a better Table then that I trow.
Du.
And is that all sir?
Sim.
All I vow my Lord,
19
Upon Cheese Trenchers, as Take heed of whoring, shun it;
Tis like a cheese too strong of the Runnet,
And such calves maws of wit and admonition
Good to catch mice with, but not sons and heirs,
They'r not so easily caught.
Du.
Agent for death.
Exe.
Your will my Lord.
Du.
Take hence that pile of years
Before surfet with unprofitable age
And with the rest from the high promontory,
Cast him into the sea.
Creon.
Tis noble justice.
Anti.
Tis cursed tyranny.
Sim.
Peace, take heed mother, you have but a short time to bee
cast down your selfe, and let a yong Courtier doo't, and you bee
wise, in the mean time.
Anti.
Hence slave.
Sim.
Well seven and fifty,
Yave but three years to scold, then comes your payment,
1. Court.
Simonides.
Sim.
Push, I am not brave enough to hold you talk yet,
Give a man time, I have a suit a making.
Recorders.
2. Cour.
We love thy form first, brave cloths will come man.
Sim.
Ile make em come else with a mischief to em,
As other gallants doe, that have lesse left em.
Du.
Hark whence those sounds, whats that?
1. Cou.
Some funerall
Recorders. Enter Cleanthes & Hipolita with a hears
It seems my Lord, and yong Cleanthes follows.
Du.
Cleanthes.
2. Cour.
Tis my Lord, and in the place
Of a chiefe mourner to, but strangely habited.
Du.
Yet suitable to his behaviour, mark it,
He comes all the way smiling, do you observ't?
I never saw a Coarse so joyfully followed,
Light colours and light cheeks, who should this be?
Tis a thing worth resolving.
Sim.
One belike that doth participate
In this our present joy.
20
Cleanthes,
Clean.
Oh my Lord.
Du.
He laught outright now,
Was ever such a contrariety seen
In naturall courses yet, nay profest openly?
1. Cour.
I ha known a widow laugh closely my Lord
Under her hankercher, when tother part of her old face has wept
Like rain in sunshine, but all the face to laugh apparantly
Was never seen yet.
Sim.
Yes mine did once.
Clean.
Tis of a heavy time the joyfullst day
That ever son was born to.
Du.
How can that be!
Clean.
I joy to make it plain, my father's dead.
Du.
Dead!
2. Cour.
Old Leonides.
Clean.
In his last month dead,
He beguil'd cruell Law the sweetliest
Thae ever age was blest to,
It grieves me that a tear should fall upont,
Being a thing so joyfull; but his memory
Will work it out I see; when his poor heart broke
I did not so much but leapt for joy,
So mountingly I touchd the stars me thought,
I would not hear of blacks I was so light,
But chose a colour Orient, like my mind,
For blacks are often such dissembling mourners,
There is no credit given toot, it has lost
All reputation by false sons and widows;
Now I would have men know what I resemble,
A truth indeed, tis joy clad like a joy,
Which is more honest then a cunning griefe
That's only fac'd with sables for a shew,
But gawdy hearted; when I saw death come
So ready to deceive you, sir forgive me,
I could not choose but be intirely merry,
And yet to see now of a sudden
Naming but Death, I shew my selfe a mortall,
Thats never constant to one passion long;
21
In the production on't, sorrows a thiefe,
That can when joy looks on steal forth a griefe,
But gracious leave my Lord, when I have performd
My last poor duty to my fathers bones,
I shall return your servant.
Du,
Well perform it,
The Law is satisfied, they can but die,
And by his death Cleanthes you gain well,
A rich and faire revenew.
Florish
Sim.
I would I had een another father, condition he did the like
Clean.
I have past it bravely, now how blest was I
To have the dim sight, now tis confirmd
Past fear or doubts confirmd, on on I say,
He that brought me to man I bring to clay.
Sim.
I'me wrapt now in a contemplation,
Even at the very sight of yonder Hearse,
I doe but think what a fine thing tis now
To live and follow some seven unkles thus,
As many Cozen Germans, and such people
That will leave Legacies, a pox Ide see em hangd else ere Ide follow
One of them, and they could finde the way now Ive enough to begin
to be horrible covetous.
Enter Butler, Tailor, Bayly, Cook, Coachman, and Footman.
But.
We come to know your Worships pleasure sir,
Having long serv'd your father, how your good will
Stands towards our entertainment.
Sim.
Not a jot i faith:
My father wore cheap garments, he might doot, I shall have all my
Clothes come home to morrow, they will eat up all you, and there
were more of you sirs; to keepe you sixe at Livery and still munching.
Tay.
Why I'me a Taylor, y'ave most need of me sir.
Sim.
Thou madest my fathers clothes that I confesse,
But what sonne and heir will have his fathers Taylor
Unlesse he have a mind to be well laught at? Thast beene so us'd to
wide long side things, that when I come to trusse I shall have the
waste of my Dublet lie upon my buttocks, a sweet sight.
But.
I a Butler.
22
Theres least neede of thee fellow, I shall nere drinke at
Home, I shall be so drunke abroad.
But.
But a cup of small beere will do well next morning sir
Sim.
I grant you, but what neede I keepe so big a knave for a
Cup of small Beere?
Cooke.
Butler you have your answer, marry sir a Cooke,
I know your mastership cannot be without.
Sim.
The more asse art thou to think so, for what should I doe
With a Mountebancke, no drinke in my house, the banishing the
Butler might have beene a warning for thee, unlesse thou meanst to
Choake me.
Cooke.
Ith meane time you have choaked me, me thinks.
Bay.
These are superfluous vanities indeed,
And so accounted of in these dayes sir,
But then your Bayliff to receive your rents.
Sim.
I prithee hold thy tongue fellow, I shall take a course to
spend em faster then thou canst reckon em, tis not the rents must
serve my turne, unlesse I meane to be laughed at, if a man should be
seene out of flash me, let him nere look to be a right gallant:
But sirrah with whom is your businesse?
Coach
Your good mastership.
Sim.
You have stood silent all this while, like men
That know their strengths i'these dayes, none of you
Can want imployment, you can winne me wagers
Footman in running races.
Foot
I dare boast it sir.
Sim.
And when my bets are all come in and store
Then Coachman you can hurry me to my whore.
Coach.
Ile firke em into foame else.
Sim.
Speaks brave matter,
And ile firk some to, or't shall cost hot water.
Cooke.
Why heares an age to make a Cooke a Ruffin, and scald
the Divell indeed, doe strange mad things, make mutton pasties of
Dogs flesh, backe Snakes for Lamprie Pies, and Cats for Cunnies:
But.
Come will you bee ruld by a Butlers advice once? for
wee must make up our fortunes some where now as the case stands,
lets een therefore goe seeke out widdowes of nine and fiftie and we
can, thats within a yeare of their deaths, and so we shall bee sure to
bee quickly ridd of em, for a yeares enough of conscience to bee
23
Cooke.
Oracle Butler, Oracle Butler, hee puts downe all the
Doctors a'th name.
Exeunt.
Enter Eugenia, and Parthenia.
Eug.
Parthenia.
Par.
Mother.
Eug.
I shall be troubled
This six months with an old Clogg, would the Law
Had been cut one yeare shorter.
Par.
Did you call forsooth.
Eug.
Yes, you must make some spoone meat for your father,
And warme three night capps for him, out apont
The meer conceit turns a yong womans stomack,
His slippers must be warmd in August too,
And his gowne girt to him in the very dogdaies
When every Mastiffe lols outs tongue for heat,
Would not this vex a beauty of 19. now?
Alas I shall be tumbling in cold Bathes now
Under each arme pit a fine beane flower bag
To screw out whitenesse when I lift,
And some seaven of the proprest men ith Dukedome,
Making a Banquet ready ith next roome for me,
Where he that gets the first kisse is envied
And stands upon his guard a fornight after;
This is a life for nineteene, but tis justice
For old men, whose great acts stand in their minds
And nothing in their bodies, doe nere think
A woman yong enough for their desire,
And we yong wenches that have mother wits
And love to marry muck first, and man after,
Doe never thinke old men are old enough
That we may soon be rid on em, theres our quittance;
I have wasted for the happy houre this two yeare
And if Death be so unkind still to let him live
All that time I am lost.
Enter Courtiers.
1. Cour.
Young Lady.
2. Cour.
O sweet precious bud of beauty!
Troth she smells over all the house me thinks.
1. Court.
The Sweet Briers but a counterfeit to her,
24
But that it shall not long if youl be rul'd Lady.
Eug.
What meanes this suddain visitation Gentlemen?
So passing well perform'd too, whose your Milliner?
1. Cour.
Love and thy Beauty Widdow.
Eug.
Widdow sir.
1. Court.
Tis sure and thats as good, in troath w'are suitors
We come a wooing wench, plain dealings best.
Eug.
A wooing, what before my Husbands dead?
2. Cour.
Lets lose no time, 6. months will have an end you know,
I know't by all the Bonds that ere I made yet.
Eug.
Thats a sure knowledge, but it holds not heere sir.
1. Cour.
Do not you know the craft of your yong Tumblers?
That you wed an old man, you thinke upon another husband as you
are marrying of him, wee knowing your thoughts made bold to
see you.
Enter Simonides, Coachman.
Eug.
How wondrous right he speaks 'twas my thought indeed.
Sim.
By your leave sweet Widdow, do you lack any gallants?
Eug.
Widdow agen, tis a comfort to be cald so.
1. Cour.
Whose this Simonides.
2. Cour.
Brave Sim I faith.
Sim.
Coachman.
Coach.
Sir.
Sim.
Have an especiall care of my new mares,
They say sweet Widdow he that loves a horse well
Must needs love a Widdow well, when dies thy Husband?
I'st not July next.
Eug.
Oh y'are to hot sir!
Pray coole your selfe and take September with you.
Sim.
September oh I was but two Bowes wide.
1. Cour.
Mr. Simonides.
Sim.
I can entreat you gallants, I'me in fashion too.
Ent. Lisander.
Lisan.
Ha, whence this heard of folly, what are you?
Sim.
Well willers to your wife, pray tend your booke sir,
We have nothing to say to you, you may goe die,
For heere be those in place that can supply.
Lisan.
Whats thy wild businesse heere?
Sim.
Old man, i'le tell thee,
I come to beg the reversion of thy Wife,
25
Man, therefore what should a man doe talking with thee,
Come Widdow stand to your tickling.
Lisan.
Impious blood hounds.
Sim.
Let the Ghost talke, nere mind him.
Lisan.
Shames of nature.
Sim.
Alass poore Ghost, consider what the man is.
Lisan.
Monsters unnaturall, you that have beene covetous
Of your own fathers deaths, gape yee for mine now?
Cannot a poore old man that now can reckon
Een all the houres he has to live, live quiet
For such wild beasts as these, that neither hold
A certainty of good within themselves,
But scatter others comforts that are ripened
For holy uses? is hot youth so hasty
It will not give an old man leave to die?
And leave a Widdow first, but will make one
The Husband looking on, may your destructions
Come all in hasty figures to your Soules,
Your wealth depart in hast, to overtake
Your honesties, that died when you were infants.
May your male seed be hasty spend thrifts too?
Your daughters hastie sinners and diseas'd
Ere they be thought at yeares to welcome misery,
And may you never know what leisure is
But at repentance: I am too uncharitable
Too foule, I must goe cleanse my selfe with prayers;
These are the Plagues of fondnesse to old men
Wee'r punisht home with what we doat upon.
Exit.
Sim.
So so, the Ghost is vanish'd now, your answer Lady.
Eug.
Excuse me gentlemen, 'twere as much impudence
In me to give you a kind answer yet,
As madnesse to produce a churlish one.
I could say now, come a month hence sweet gentlemen,
Or two or three, or when you will indeed,
But I say no such thing, I set no time
Nor is it mannerly to deny any,
Ile carry an even hand to all the world,
Let other women make what hast they will,
26
Ile have my husband dead before I marry,
Nere looke for other answer at my hands Gentlemen.
Sim.
Would he were hangd for my part looks for other.
Eug.
Ime at a word.
Sim.
And Ime at a blow then,
Ile lay you o'th lips and leave you.
1. Cour.
Well struck Sim.
Sim.
He that dares say heell mend it, Ile strike him.
1. Cour.
He would betray himselfe to be a brother
That goes about to mend it.
Eug.
Gentlemen, you know my minde, I bar you not my house,
But if you choose out houres more seasonably
You may have entertainment.
Enter Parthenia.
Sim.
What will she doe heerafter when sh is a widow,
Keeps open house already?
Exeunt.
Eug.
How now Girle?
Parth.
Those featherd fools that hither took their flight,
Have griev'd my father much.
Eug.
Speak well of youth Wench
While th'ast a day to live; tis youth must make thee,
And when youth fails, wise women will make it;
But alwayes take age first to make thee rich:
That was my counsell ever, and then youth
Will make thee sport enough all thy life after.
Tis Times policy Wench, what ist to bide
A little hardness for a pair of years or so,
A man whose only strength lies in his breath,
Weaknes in all parts else, thy bedfellow
A cough oth Lungs, or say a wheening matter,
Then shake off chains, and dance all thy life after.
Parth.
Every one to their liking, but I say
An honest man's worth all, be he yong or gray,
Yonders my Cozen.
Enter Hippolita.
Eug.
Art I must use thee now,
Dissembling is the best help for a vertue
That ever woman had, it saves their credit often.
27
How now Cozen,
What weeping?
Eug.
Can you blame me when the time
Of my dear Love and Husband now drawes on;
I study funerall tears against the day
I must be a sad widow.
Hip.
In troth Eugenia I have cause to weep to,
But when I visit, I come comfortably,
And look to be so quited, yet more sobbing,
Eug.
Oh the greatest part of your affliction's past,
The worst of mine's to come, I have one to die,
Your husbands father is dead, and fixt
In his eternall peace, past the sharp tyrannous blow.
Hip.
You must use patience Coze.
Eug.
Tell me of patience.
Hip.
You have example fort in me and many.
Eug.
Yours was a father in law, but mine a husband,
On for a woman that could love and live
With an old man, mine is a jewell Cozen,
So quietly he lies by one, so still.
Hip.
Alas! I have a secret lodg'd within me
Which now will out, in pity I can't hold.
Eugen.
One that will not disturb me in my sleep
After a whole month together, lesse it be
With those diseases age is subject to,
As aches, coughes, and pains, and these heaven knows
Against his will too, hees the quietest man,
Especially in bed.
Hip.
Be comforted.
Eug.
How can I Lady?
None knowes the terror of an husbands losse,
But they that feare to lose him.
Hip.
Fain would I keep it in, but twill not be,
She is my kinswoman, and i'me pitifull,
I must impart a good if I knowt once,
To them that stand in need ont, Ime like one
Loves not to banquet with a joy alone,
My friends must partake too, prithee cease Cozen
28
In a yong woman in these dayes, I tell you,
To one so much past service as your husband,
There is a way to beguile law, and help you,
My husband sound it out first.
Eug.
Oh sweet Cozen!
Hip.
You may conceale him, and give out his death
Within the time, order his funerall too;
We had it so for ours, I prayse heaven fort,
And hees alive and safe.
Eug.
O blessed Coze,
How thou reviv'st me?
Hip.
We daily see
The good old man, and feed him twice a day,
Me thinks it is the sweetest joy to cherish him,
That ever life yet shewd me.
Eug.
So should I think
A dainty thing to nurse an old man well.
Hip.
And then we have his prayers and daily blessing.
And we two live so lovingly upont,
His son and I, and so contentedly,
You cannot think unlesse you tasted ont.
Eug.
No I warrant you, Oh loving Cozen,
What a great sorrow hast thou eas'd me of?
A thousand thanks goe with thee.
Hip.
I have a suite to you, I must not have you weepe when I
am gone.
Exit.
Eug.
No, if I doe neer trust me: Easie fool,
Thou hast put thy selfe into my power for ever:
Take heed of angring of me; I conceal,
I fain a Funerall, I keep my husband,
Lasse I have been thinking any time these two years
I have kept him too long already.
Ile goe count ore my Suitors, thats my business,
And prick the man down, I ha six months to doot,
But could dispatch him in one, were I put toot.
Exit.
Finis Actus Secundi.
| The Excellent Comedy, called The Old Law | |