A Chast Mayd in Cheape-side A Pleasant conceited Comedy neuer before printed |
| 1. |
| 2. |
Actus Secundus.
|
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
 | A Chast Mayd in Cheape-side |  |
13
Actus Secundus.
Enter Tuchwood Senior, and his Wife.Wife.
'Twill be so tedious Sir to liue from you,
But that necessitie must be obeyed.
T.S.
I would it might not Wife, the tediousnesse
Will be the most part mine, that vnderstand
The blessings I haue in thee, so to part
That driues the torment to a knowing Heart,
But as thou say'st, we must giue way to need
And liue awhile asunder, our desires
Are both too fruitfull for our barren fortunes.
How aduers runs the desteny of some Creatures,
Some onely can get riches and no Children,
We onely can get Children and no riches,
Then 'tis the prudents part to checke our willes,
And till our state rise, make our Bloods lye still.
'Life euerie yeere a Child, and some yeeres two,
Besides, drinkings abroad, that's neuer reckon'd,
This geere will not hold out.
Wife.
Sir for a time, I'le take the curtesie of my Vnkles House
If you be pleas'd to like on't, till prosperitie
Looke with a friendly Eye vpon our states.
T.S.
Honest Wife I thanke thee, I ne're knew
The perfect treasure thou brought'st with thee more
Then at this instant minute. A Man's happy
When he's at poorest that has match't his Soule
As rightly as his Body. Had I married
A sensuall Foole now, as 'tis hard to scape it
'Mongst Gentlewomen of our time, she would ha' hang'd
About my Necke, and neuer left her hold
Till she had kist me into wanton businesses,
Which at the waking of my better Iudgement
14
And layd a thicker vengance on my act
Then miserie of the Birth, which were enough
If it were borne to greatnesse, whereas mine
Is sure of beggerie, though it were got in Wine.
Fulnesse of Ioy sheweth the goodnesse in thee,
Thou art a matchlesse Wife, Farwell my Ioy.
Wife.
I shall not want your sight?
T.S.
I'le see thee often,
Talke in mirth, and play at kisses with thee,
Any thing Wench but what may beget Beggers,
There I giue o're the Set, throw downe the Cards,
And dare not take them vp.
Wife.
Your will be mine Sir.
Exit.
T.S.
This does not onely make her honestie perfect,
But her discretion, and approues her Iudgement.
Had her desire beene wanton, they'd beene blamelesse
In being lawfull euer, but of all Creatures
I hold that Wife a most vnmatched treasure,
That can vnto her fortunes fixe her pleasure,
And not vnto her Blood, this is like wedlocke,
The feast of marriage is not Lust but Loue,
And care of the estate, when I please Blood,
Meerely I sing, and sucke out others, then
'Tis many a wisemans fault, but of all Men
I am the most vnfortunate in that game
That euer pleas'd both Genders, I ne're play'd yet
Vnder a Bastard, the poore Wenches cursse me
To the Pit where e're I come, they were ne're serued so,
But vs'd to haue more words then one to a bargaine,
I haue such a fatall Finger in such businesse
I must forth with't, chiefely for Countrey Wenches,
For euerie Haruest I shall hinder Hay-making,
Enter a Wench with a Child.
I had no lesse then seuen lay in last Progresse,
Within three weekes of one anothers time.
15
O Snaphance, haue I found you.
T.S.
How Snaphance?
Wench.
Doe you see your workemanship,
Nay turne not from it, nor offer to escape, for if you doe,
I'le cry it through the Streets, and follow you.
Your name may well be called Tuchwood, a Pox on you,
You doe but touch and take, thou hast vndone me,
I was a Mayd before, I can bring a Certificate for it,
From both the Church-Wardens.
T.S.
I'le haue the Parsons Hand too, or I'le not yeeld
to't.
Wench.
Thou shalt haue more thou Villaine, nothing
grieues me, but Ellen my poore cousen in Darbishiere, thou
hast crack't her marriage quite, she'le haue a bout with
thee.
T.S.
Faith when she will I'le haue a bout with her.
Wench.
A Law bout Sir I meane.
T.S.
True, Lawyers vse such bouts as other Men doe,
And if that be all thy griefe, I'le tender her a Husband,
I keepe of purpose two or three Gulls in pickle
To eat such Mutten with, and she shall chuse one.
Doe but in courtesie faith Wench excuse me,
Of this halfe yeard of Flesh, in which I thinke it wants
A Nayle or two.
Wench.
No, thou shalt find Villaine
It hath right shape, and all the Nayles it should haue.
T.S.
Faith I am poore, doe a charitable deed Wench,
I am a younger Brother, and haue nothing.
Wench.
Nothing, thou hast too much thou lying villaine
Vnlesse thou wert more thankefull.
T.S.
I haue no dwelling,
I brake vp House but his morning, Pray thee pittie me,
I am a good Fellow, faith haue beene too kind
To people of your Gender, if I ha'te
Without my Belly, none of your Sexe shall want it,
That word has beene of force to moue a Woman.
There's trickes enough to rid thy Hand on't Wench,
16
Or else anone i'the euening, twentie deuises,
Here's all I haue, I faith, take purse and all,
And would I were rid of all the Ware i'the Shop so.
Wench.
Where I find manly dealings I am pitifull,
This shall not trouble you.
T.S.
And I protest Wench, the next I'le keepe my
selfe.
Wench.
Soft, let it be got first.
This is the firth, if e're I venture more
(Exit.
Where I now goe for a Mayd, may I ride for a Whore.
T.S.
what shift shele make now with this peece of flesh
In this strict time of Lent, I cannot imagine,
Flesh dare not peepe abroad now, I haue knowne
This Citie now aboue this seuen yeers,
But I protest in better state of gouernement,
I neuer knew it yet, nor euer heard of,
There has beene more religious wholesome Lawes
In the halfe cirkle of a yeere erected
For common good, then memorie euer knew of,
Enter Sir Oliuer Kix, and his Lady.
Setting apart corruption of Promoters,
And other poysonous Officers that infect
And with a venemous breath taint euerie goodnesse.
Lady.
O that e're I was begot, or bred, or borne.
S. Ol.
Be content sweet Wife.
T.S.
What's here to doe now?
I hold my life she's in deepe passion
For the imprisonment of Veale and Mutton
Now kept in Garets, weepes for some Calues Head now,
Me thinkes her Husbands Head might serue with Bacon.
Enter Tuckwood Iunior.
Lady.
Hist.
17
Patience sweet Wife.
T.I.
Brother I haue sought you strangely.
T.S.
Why what's the businesse?
T.I.
With all speed thou canst procure a Licence for
me.
T.S.
How, a Licence?
T.I.
Cuds-foot she's lost else, I shall misse her euer.
T.S.
Nay sure thou shalt not misse so faire a marke,
For thirteene shillings foure pence.
T.I.
Thankes by hundreds.
Exit.
S. Ol.
Nay pray thee cease, I'le be at more cost yet,
Thou know'st we are rich enough.
Lady.
All but in blessings,
And there the Begger goes beyond vs. O, ô, ô,
To be seuen yeeres a Wife and not a Child, ô not a Child.
S. Ol.
Sweet Wife haue patience.
Lady.
Can any Woman haue a greater cut?
S. Ol.
I know 'tis great, but what of that Wife?
I cannot doe with all, there's things making
By thine owne Doctors aduice at Poticaries,
I spare for nothing Wife, no if the price
Were fortie markes a spoone-full,
I'de giue a thousand pound to purchase fruitfulnesse,
'Tis but bating so many good workes
In the erecting of Bridewels and Spittle-houses,
And so fetch it vp againe, for hauing none
I meane to make good deeds my Children.
Lady.
Giue me but those good deeds, and I'le find
Children.
S. Ol.
Hang thee, thou hast had too many.
Lady.
Thou ly'st breuitie.
S. Ol.
O horrible, dar'st thou call me breuitie?
Dar'st thou be so short with me?
Lady.
Thou deseruest worse.
Thinke but vpon the goodly Lands and Liuings
That's kept backe through want on't.
S. Ol.
Talke not on't pray thee,
18
Lady.
'Tis our dry barrennesse puffes vp Sr Walter,
None gets by your not-getting, but that Knight,
He's made by th'meanes, and fats his fortunes, shortly
In a great Dowry with a Gold-Smiths Daughter.
S. Ol.
They may be all deceiued,
Be but you patient Wife.
Lady.
I haue suffred a long time.
S. Ol.
Suffer thy Heart out, a Poxe suffer thee.
Lady.
Nay thee, thou desertlesse Slaue.
S. Ol.
Come, come, I ha' done,
You'le to the Gossiping of Mr Allwits Child?
Lady.
Yes, to my much ioy,
Euerie one gets before me, there's my Sister
Was married but at Bartholmew-eeue last,
And she can haue two Children at a birth,
O one of them, one of them would ha' seru'd my turne.
S. Ol.
Sorrow consume thee, thou art still crossing me,
And know'st my nature.
Enter a Mayd.
Mayd.
O Mistris, weeping or rayling,
That's our House harmony.
Lady.
What say'st Iugg?
Mayd.
The sweetest newes.
Lady.
What ist Wench?
Mayd.
Throw downe your Doctors Drugges,
They're all but Heretikes, I bring certaine remedy
That has beene taught, and proued, and neuer fayl'd.
S. Ol.
O that, that, that or nothing.
Mayd.
There's a Gentleman,
I haply haue his Name too, that has got
Nine Children by one Water that he vseth,
It neuer misles, they come so fast vpon him,
He was faine to giue it ouer.
Lady.
His name sweet Iugg?
19
One Mr Tuchwood, a fine Gentleman,
But run behind-hand much with getting Children.
S. Ol.
Ist possible?
Mayd.
Why Sir, he'le vndertake,
Vsing that Water, within fifteene yeere,
For all your wealth, to make you a poore Man,
You shall so swarme with Children.
S. Ol.
I'le venture that I faith.
Lady.
That shall you Husband.
Mayd.
But I must tell you first, he's very deere.
S. Ol.
No matter, what serues wealth for?
Lady.
True sweet Husband,
There's Land to come, Put case his Water stands me
In some fiue hundred pound a pint,
'Twill fetch a thousand, and a Kersten Soule.
I'le about it.
And that's worth all sweet Husband.
Exit.
Enter All-wit.
All.
I'le goe bid Gossips presently my selfe,
That's all the worke I'le doe, nor need I stirre,
But that it is my pleasure to walke forth
And ayre my selfe a little, I am ty'd to nothing
In this businesse, what I doe is meerely recreation,
Not constraint.
Here's running to and fro, Nurse vpon Nurse,
Three Chare women, besides maids & neighbors children.
Fye, what a trouble haue I rid my Hands on,
It makes me sweat to thinke on't.
Enter Sir Walter Whorehound.
S. Walt.
How now Iacke?
All.
I am going to bid Gossips for your Wp s child Sir,
A goodly Girle I faith, giue you ioy on her,
She looks as if she had two thousand pound to her portion
20
And run away with a Taylor, A fine plumpe black ei'd slut,
Vnder correction Sir,
I take delight to see her: Nurse.
Nurse.
Doe you call Sir?
Exit.
All.
I call not you, I call the Wet Nurse hither,
Enter Wet Nurse.
Giue me the wet Nurse, I 'tis thou,
Come hither, come hither,
Lets see her once againe, I cannot chuse
But busse her thrice an hower.
Nurse.
You may be proud on't Sir,
'Tis the best peece of worke that e're you did.
All.
Think'st thou so Nurse, What sayest to Wat and
Nicke?
Nurse.
They're pretie children both, but here's a wench
Will be a knocker.
All.
Pup say'st thou me so, pup little Countesse,
Faith Sir I thanke your Worship for this Girle,
Ten thousand times, and vpward.
S. Walt.
I am glad I haue her for you Sir.
All.
Here take her in Nurse, wipe her, and giue her
Spoone-meat.
Nurse.
Wipe your Mouth Sir.
Exit
All.
And now about these Gossips.
S. Walt.
Get but two, I'le stand for one my selfe.
All.
To your owne Child Sir?
S. Walt.
The better pollicie, it preuents suspition,
'Tis good to play with rumor at all weapons.
All.
Troth I commend your care Sir, 'tis a thing
That I should ne're haue thought on.
S. Walt.
The more Slaue,
When Man turnes base, out goes his Soules pure flame,
The fat of ease o're-throwes the eyes of shame.
21
I am studying who to get for Godmother
Sutable to your Worship, Now I ha' thought on't.
S. Walt.
I'le ease you of that care, and please my selfe in't
My Loue the Goldsmithes Daughter, if I send,
Her Father will command her, Dauy Dahumma.
Enter Dauy.
All.
I'le fit your Worship then with a Male Partner.
S. Walt.
What is he?
All.
A kind proper Gentleman, Brother to Mr
Tuchwood.
S. Walt.
I know Tuchwood, has he a Brother liuing?
All.
A neat Batchelor.
S. Walt.
Now we know him, we'le make shift with him
Dispatch the time drawes neere, Come hither Dauy.
Exit
All.
In troth I pittie him, he ne're stands still,
Poore Knight what paines he takes, sends this way one,
That way another, has not an houres leasure,
I would not haue thy toyle, for all thy pleasure,
Enter two Promoters.
Ha, how now, what are these that stand so close
At the Street-corner, pricking vp their Eares,
And snuffing vp their Noses, like rich-mens Dogges
When the first Course goes in? By the masse Promoters,
'Tis so I hold my life, and planted there
To arrest the dead Corps of poore Calues and Sheepe,
Like rauenous Creditors, that will not suffer
The Bodyes of their poore departed Debtors
To goe to'th' graue, but eene in Death to vex
And stay the Corps, with Billes or Middlesex,
This Lent will fat the whoresons vp with Sweetbreds,
And lard their whores with Lambe-stones, what their gols
Can clutch, goes presently to their Mols and Dols,
The Bawds will be so fat with what they earne,
22
And being stroak't, will giue the Milke of Witches,
How did the Mungrels heare my wife lyes in?
Well, I may baffle 'em gallantly, By your fauour Gentlemen
I am a stranger both vnto the Citie,
And to her carnall stricktnesse.
1 Prom.
Good, Your will Sir?
All.
Pray tell me where one dwells that kils this Lent.
1 Prom.
How kils? Come hither Dicke,
A Bird, a Bird.
2 Prom.
What ist that you would haue?
All.
Faith any Flesh,
But I long especially for Veale and Greene-sauce.
1 Prom.
Greene-Goose, you shall be sau'st.
All.
I haue halfe a scornefull stomacke, no Fish will be
admitted.
1 Prom.
Not this Lent Sir?
All.
Lent, what cares Colon here for Lent?
1 Prom.
You say well Sir,
Good reason that the Colon of a Gentleman
As you were lately pleas'd to terme your worship Sir,
Should be fulfill'd with answerable food,
To sharpen Blood, delight Health, and tickle Nature,
Were you directed hither to this Street Sir?
All.
That I was, I marry.
2 Prom.
And the Butcher belike
Should kill, and sell close in some vpper Roome?
All.
Some Apple-loft as I take it, or a Cole-house,
I know not which I faith.
2 Prom.
Either will serue,
This Butcher shall kisse Newgate, lesse he turne vp the
Bottome of the Pocket of his Apron,
You goe to seeke him?
All.
Where you shall not find him,
I'le buy, walke by your Noses with my Flesh,
Sheepe-biting Mungrels, Hand-basket Free-booters,
My Wife lyes in, a footra for Promoters.
Exit
23
That shall not serue your turn, what a Rogue's
this, how cunningly he came ouer vs?
Enter a Man with Meat in a Basket.
2 Prom.
Husht, stand close.
Man.
I haue scap't well thus farre, they say the Knaues
are wondrous hot and busie.
1 Prom.
By your leaue Sir,
We must see what you haue vnder your Cloake there.
Man.
Haue? I haue nothing.
1 Prom.
No, doe you tell vs that, what makes this
lumpe sticke out then, we must see Sir.
Man.
What will you see Sir, a paire of Sheets, and two
of my Wiues foule Smocks, going to the Washers?
2 Prom.
O we loue that sight well, you cannot please vs
better: What doe you gull vs, call you these Shirts and
Smockes?
Man.
Now a Poxe choake you,
You haue cozend me and fiue of my Wiues kinred
Of a good Dinner, we must make it vp now
With Herrings and Milke-potage.
Exit
1 Prom.
'Tis all Veale.
2 Prom.
All Veale, Poxe the worse lucke, I promis'd
faithfully to send this morning a fat quarter of Lambe, to a
kind Gentlewoman in Turnebull street that longs, and how
I'me crost.
1 Prom.
Let's share this, and see what hap comes next
then.
Enter another with a Basket.
2 Prom.
Agreed, stand close againe, another bootie,
What's he?
1 Prom.
Sir, by your fauour.
Man.
Meaning me Sir?
1 Prom.
Good Mr Oliuer, cry thee mercie, I faith.
24
Man.
A Racke of Mutton Sir, and halfe a Lambe,
You know my Mistrisses' dyet.
1 Prom.
Goe, goe, we see thee not, away, keepe close,
Heart let him passe, thou'lt neuer haue the wit
To know our benefactors.
2 Prom.
I haue forgot him.
1 Prom.
'Tis M. Beggerlands man the wealthy Merchant
That is in see with vs.
2 Prom.
Now I haue a feeling of him.
1 Prom.
You know he purchast the whole Lent together
Gaue vs ten groats a peece on Ash-wensday.
2 Prom.
True, true.
Enter a Wench with a Basket, and a Child in it vnder a Loyne of Mutton.
1 Prom.
A Wench.
2 Prom.
Why then stand close indeed.
Wench.
Women had need of wit, if they'le shift here,
And she that hath wit, may shift any-where.
1 Prom.
Looke, looke, poore Foole,
She has left the Rumpe vncouer'd too,
More to betray her, this is like a Murdrer,
That will out-face the deed with a bloody Band.
2 Prom.
What time of the yeere ist Sister?
Wench.
O sweet Gentlemen, I am a poore Seruant,
Let me goe.
1 Prom.
You shall Wench, but this must stay with vs.
Wench.
O you vndoe me Sir,
'Tis for a welthy Gentlewoman that takes Physicke Sir,
The Doctor do's allow my Mistris Mutton,
O as you tender the deere life of a Gentlewoman,
I'le bring my Master to you, he shall shew you
A true authoritie from the higher powers,
And I'le run euerie foot.
2 Prom.
Well, leaue your Basket then,
25
Wench.
Will you sweare then to me,
To keepe it till I come.
1 Prom.
Now by this light I will.
Wench.
What say you Gentleman?
2 Prom.
What a strange Wench 'tis?
Would we might perish else.
Wench.
Nay then I run Sir.
Exit
1 Prom.
And ne're returne I hope.
2 Prom.
A politike Baggage,
She makes vs sweare to keepe it,
I prethe looke what market she hath made.
1 Prom.
Imprimis Sir, a good fat Loyne of Mutton,
What comes next vnder this Cloath?
Now for a quarter of Lambe.
2 Prom.
Not for a Shoulder of Mutton.
1 Prom.
Done.
2 Prom.
Why done Sir.
1 Prom.
By the masse I feele I haue lost,
'Tis of more weight I faith.
2 Prom.
Some Loyne of Veale?
1 Prom.
No faith, here's a Lambes Head,
I feele that plainly, why yet win my wager.
2 Prom.
Ha?
1 Prom.
Swounds what's here?
2 Prom.
A Child.
1 Prom.
A Poxe of all dissembling cunning Whores.
2 Prom.
Here's an vnlucky Breakefast.
1 Prom.
What shal's doe?
2 Prom.
The Queane made vs sweare to keepe it too.
1 Prom.
We might leaue it else.
2 Prom.
Villanous strange,
'Life had she none to gull, but poore Promoters,
That watch hard for a liuing.
1 Prom.
Halfe our gettings must run in Suger-sope,
And Nurses wages now, besides many a pound of Sope,
And Tallow, we haue need to get Loynes of Mutton still,
26
2 Prom.
Nothing mads me, but this was a Lambs head
with you, you felt it, she has made Calues heads of vs.
1 Prom.
Prethe no more on't,
There's time to get it vp, it is not come
To Mid-Lent Sunday yet.
2 Prom.
I am so angry, I'le watch no more to day.
1 Prom.
Faith nor I neither.
2 Prom.
Why then I'le make a motion.
1 Prom.
Well, what ist?
2 Prom.
Let's e'ne goe to the Checker at Queene-hiue
and rost the Loyne of Mutton, till young Flood, then send
the Child to Branford.
Enter Allwit in one of Sir Walters Sutes, and Dauy trussing him.
All.
'Tis a busie day at our House Dauy.
Dauy.
Alwayes the Kursning day Sir.
All.
Trusse, trusse me Dauy:
Dauy.
No matter and you were hang'd Sir.
All.
How do's this Sute fit me Dauy?
Dauy.
Excellent nearly, my Masters things were euer fit
for you Sir, e'ne to a Haire you know.
All.
Thou hast hit it right Dauy,
We euer iumpt in one, this ten yeeres Dauy,
Enter a Seruant with a Box.
So well said, what art thou?
Seru.
Your Comfit-makers Man Sir.
All.
O sweet youth, into the Nurse quicke,
Quicke, 'tis time I faith,
Your Mistris will be here?
Seru.
She was setting forth Sir.
27
All.
Here comes our Gossips now, O I shall haue such
kissing worke to day, Sweet Mistris Underman welcome
I faith.
1 Pur.
Giue you ioy of your fine Girle Sir,
Grant that her education may be pure,
And become one of the faithfull.
All.
Thankes to your Sisterly wishes Mr Underman.
2 Pur.
Are any of the Brethrens Wiues yet come?
All.
There are some Wiues within, and some at
home.
1 Pur.
Verily thankes Sir.
Exit
All.
Verily you are an Asse forsooth,
I must fit all these times, or there's no Musicke,
Enter two Gossips.
Here comes a friendly and familier payer,
Now I like these Wenches well.
1 Goss.
How do'st sirra?
All.
Faith well I thanke you Neighbor, and how do'st
thou?
2 Goss.
Want nothing, but such getting Sir as thine.
All.
My gettings wench, they are poore.
1 Goss.
Fye that thou'lt say so,
Th'ast as fine Children as a Man can get.
Dauy.
I as a Man can get,
And that's my Master.
All.
They are pretie foolish things,
Put to making in minutes,
I ne're stand long about 'em,
Will you walke in Wenches?
28
T.I.
The hapiest meeting that our soules could wish for
Here's the Ring ready, I am beholding vnto your Fathers
hast, h'as kept his howre.
Moll.
He neuer kept it better.
Enter Sir Walter Whorehound.
T.I.
Backe, be silent.
S. Walt.
Mistris and Partner, I will put you both into
one Cup.
Dauy.
Into one Cup, most proper,
A fitting complement for a Gold-smiths Daughter.
All.
Yes Sir, that's he must be your Worships Partner
In this dayes businesse, Mr Tuchwoods Brother.
S. Walt.
I embrace your acquaintance Sir.
T.I.
It vowes your seruice Sir.
S. Walt.
It's neere high time, come Mr All-wit.
All.
Ready Sir.
S. Walt.
Wil't please you walke?
T.I.
Sir I obey your time.
Exit
Enter Midwife with the Child, and the Gossips to the Kursning.
1 Goss.
Good Mr i s Yellowhammer.
Maudl.
In faith I will not.
1 Goss.
Indeed it shall be yours
Maudl.
I haue sworne I faith.
1 Goss.
I'le stand still then.
Maudl.
So will you let the Child goe without company
And make me forsworne.
1 Goss.
You are such another Creature.
2 Goss.
Before me, I pray come downe a little.
3 Goss.
Not a whit, I hope I know my place.
29
Your place, great wonder sure, are you any better
then a Comfit-makers wife.
3 Goss.
And that's as good at all times as a Pothicaries.
2 Goss.
Ye lye, yet I forbeare you too.
1 Pur.
Come sweet Sister, we goe in vnitie, and shew
the fruits of peace like Children of the Spirit.
2 Pur.
I loue lowlinesse.
4 Goss.
True, so say I, though they striue more,
There comes as proud behind, as goes before.
5 Goss.
Euerie inch I faith.
Exit
| A Chast Mayd in Cheape-side | |