 | The City-Madam |  |
Scena prima.
Enter Shaveem and Secret.Secret.
Dead doings, Daughter.
Shave'm.
Doings! sufferings mother:
Men have forgot what doing is;
And such as have to pay for what they do,
Are impotent, or Eunuchs.
Secret.
You have a friend yet,
Musick come down.
And a striker too, I take it.
Shaveem.
Goldwire is so,
And comes to me by stealth, and as he can steal, maintains me
In cloaths, I grant; but alas Dame, what's one friend?
I would have a hundred for every hour, and use
And change of humour I am in a fresh one.
'Tis a flock of Sheep that makes a lean Wolf fat,
And not a single Lambkin. I am starv'd,
Starv'd in my pleasures. I know not what a Coach is,
To hurrie me to the Burse, or old Exchange,
The Neathouse for Musk-mellons, and the Gardens
Where we traffick for Asparagus, are to me
In the other world.
Secret.
There are other places Ladie.
Where you might find customers.
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You would have me foot it
To the Dancing of the Ropes, sit a whole afternoon there
In expectation of Nuts and Pippins;
Gape round about me, and yet not find a Chapamn
That in courtesie will bid a chop of mutton,
Or a pint of Drum-wine for me.
Secret.
You are so impatient.
But I can tell you news will comfort you,
And the whole Sister-hood.
Shavem.
What's that?
Secret.
I am told
Two Embassadours are come over. A French Monsieur,
And a Venetian, one of the Clarissimi,
A hot rein'd Marmosite. Their followers,
For their Countries honor, after a long Vacation,
Will make a full term with us.
Shavem.
They indeed are
Our certain and best customers: Who knocks there?
Knock within.
Within Ramble.
Open the door.
Secret.
What are you?
Within Ramble.
Ramble.
Within Scuffle.
Scuffle.
Within Ramble.
Your constant visitants.
Shaven.
Let 'em not in.
I know em swaggering, suburbian roarers,
Six-penny truckers
Within Ramble.
Down go all your windows,
And your neighbours too shall suffer.
Within Scuffle.
Force the doors.
Secret.
They are out-laws, mistrisse Shavem, and there is
No remedie against em, what should you fear?
They are but men, lying at your close ward,
You have foyl'd their betters.
Shavem.
Out you Baud. You care not
Upon what desperate service you imploy me,
Nor with whom, so you have your fee.
Secret.
Sweet ladie-bird
Sing a milder key.
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Scuffle.
Are you grown proud?
Ramble.
I knew you a wastcotier in the garden allies,
And would come to a saylors whistle.
Secret.
Good Sir Ramble,
Use her not roughly. Shee is very tender.
Ramble.
Rank and rotten, is she not?
She draws her knife. Ramble his sword.
Shavem.
Your spittle rogueships
Shall not make me so.
Secret.
As you are a man, Squire Scuffle,
Step in between em. A weapon of that length
Was ne're drawn in my house.
Shavem.
Let him come on,
I'le scoure it in your guts, you dog.
Ramble.
You brach,
Are you turn'd mankind. You forgot I gave you,
When wee last join'd issue, twenty pound.
Shavem.
O're night,
And kickt it out of me in the morning. I was then
A novice, but I know to make my game now.
Fetch the Constable.
Enter Goldwire like a Justice of Peace, Dingem like a Constable, the Musicians like watch men.
Secret.
Ah me. Here's one unsent for,
And a Justice of Peace too.
Shavem.
I'le hang you both you rascalls,
I can but ride. You for the purse you cut
In Powl's at a sermon. I have smoak'd you. And you for the bacon
You took on the high way from the poor market woman
As she road from Rumford.
Ramble.
Mistris Shavem.
Scuffle.
Mistris Secret,
On our knees we beg your pardon.
Scuffle.
Set a ransom on us.
Secret.
We cannot stand trifling. If you mean to save them,
Shut them out at the back-door.
Shavem.
First for punishment
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I am their soveraign, and they my vassalls,
Exeunt Ramble and Scuffle.
For homage kiss my Shoo-sole rogues, and vanish.
Goldwire.
My brave virago. The coasts clear. Strike up.
Shavem.
My Goldwire made a Justice.
Goldwire, and the rest discovered.
Secret.
And your scout
Turn'd Constable, and the Musicians watch-men.
Goldwire.
We come not to fright you, but to make you merry.
A light Lavolto.
They dance.
Shavem.
I am tir'd. No more.
This was your device.
Dingem.
Wholly his own. He is
No pig sconce Mistris.
Secret.
He has an excellent head-peece
Goldwire.
Fie no, not I: your jeering gallants say
We Citizens have no wit.
Dingem.
He dyes that says so.
This was a master-piece.
Goldwire.
A trifling stratagem,
Not worth the talking of.
Shavem.
I must kiss thee for it
Again, and again.
Dingem.
Make much of her. Did you know
What suiters she had since she saw you.
Goldwire.
I'the way of marriage.
Dingem.
Yes Sir, for marriage, and the other thing too,
The commoditie is the same. An Irish Lord offer'd her
Five pound a week.
Secret.
And a cashier'd Captain, half
Of his entertainment.
Dingem.
And a new made Courtier
The next suit he could beg.
Goldwire.
And did my sweet one
Refuse all this for me?
Shavem.
Weep not for joy,
'Tis true. Let others talk of Lords, and Commanders,
And country heirs for their servants; but give mee
My gallant prentice. He parts with his mony
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Of his expences, and comes ever furnish'd.
I know thou hast brought money to make up
My gown and petticoat, with th'appurtenances.
Goldwire.
I have it here Duck, thou shalt want for nothing.
Shavem.
Let the chamber be perfum'd, and get you Sirrah
His cap, and pantables ready.
Goldwire.
There's for thee,
And thee. That for a banquet.
Secret.
And a cawdle
Again you rise.
Goldwire.
There.
Shavem.
Usher us up in state.
Goldwire.
You will be constant.
Exeunt wanton, Musick plaid before'em
Shavem.
Thou art the whole world to me.
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