University of Virginia Library

Actus quintus

Scena prima.

Enter Luke, Sir John, Lacie and Plenty.
Luke.
You care not then, as it seems, to be converted
To our religion.

Sir John.
We know no such word,
Nor power but the Divel, and him we serve for fear,
Not love.

Luke.
I am glad that charge is sav'd.

Sir John.
We put
That trick upon your brother, to have means
To come to the Citie. Now to you wee'l discover
The close design that brought us, with assurance
Musicians come down to make ready for the song at Aras.
If you lend your aids to furnish us with that
Which in the Colonie was not to be purchas'd,
No merchant ever made such a return
For his most pretious venture, as you shall
Receive from us; far, far, above your hopes,
Or fancie to imagine.

Luke.
It must be
Some strange commoditie, and of a dear value,
(Such an opinion is planted in me,
You will deal fairly) that I would not hazard.
Give me the name of't.

Lacie.
I fear you will make
Some scruple in your conscience to grant it.

Luke.
Conscience! No, no; so it may be done with safety,
And without danger of the Law.

Plenty.
For that
You shall sleep securely. Nor shall it diminish,
But add unto your heap such an increase,
As what you now possess shall appear an Atome
To the mountain it brings with it.

Luke.
Do not rack me
With expectation.

Sir John.
Thus then in a word:
The Divel. Why start you at his name? if you
Desire to wallow in wealth and worldly honors,
You must make haste to be familiar with him.
This Divel, whose Priest I am, and by him made
A deep Magician (for I can do wonders)
Appear'd to me in Virginia, and commanded
With many stripes (for that's his cruel custome)
I should provide on pain of his fierce wrath
Against the next great sacrifice, at which
We groveling on our faces, fall before him,
Two Christian Virgins, that with their pure blood
Might dy his horrid Altars, and a third
(In his hate to such embraces as are lawful)
Married, and with your cerimonious rites
As an oblation unto Hecate,
And wanton Lust her favorite.

Luke.
A divellish custom:
And yet why should it startle me? there are
Enough of the Sex fit for this use; but Virgins,
And such a Matron as you speak of, hardly
to be wrought to it.

Plenty.
A Mine of Gold for a fee
Waits him that undertakes it and performs it.

Lacie.
Know you no distressed Widow, or poor
Maids, whose want of dower, though well born,
Makes'em weary of their own Country?

Sir John.
Such as had rather be
Miserable in another world, then where
They have surfeited in felicity?

Luke.
Give me leave,
I would not loose this purchase. A grave Matron
And two pure virgins. Umph! I think my Sister
Though proud was ever honest; and my Neeces
Untainted yet. Why should not they be shipp'd
For this employment? they are burdensome to me,
And eat too much. And if they stay in London,
They will find friends that to my losse will force me
To composition. 'Twere a Master-piece
If this could be effected. They were ever
Ambitious of title. Should I urge
Matching with these they shall live Indian Queens,
It may do much. But what shall I feel here,
Knowing to what they are design'd? They absent,
The thought of them will leave me. It shall be so.
I'le furnish you, and to indear the service
In mine own family, and my blood too.

Sir John.
Make this good, and your house shall not
Contain the gold wee'l send you.

Luke.
You have seen my Sister, and my two Neeces?

Sir John.
Yes Sir.

Luke.
These perswaded
How happily they shall live, and in what pomp
When they are in your Kingdoms, for you must
Work'em a beliefe that you are Kings.

Plenty.
We are so.

Luke.
I'le put it in practice instantly. Study you
For moving language. Sister, Neeces. How
Enter Lady, Ann, Mary.
Stil mourning? dry your eyes, and clear these clouds
That do obscure your beauties. Did you believe
My personated reprehension; though
It shew'd like a rough anger, could be serious?
Forget the fright I put you in. My ends
In humbling you was, to set off the height
Of honour, principle honor, which my studies
When you least expect it shall confer upon you.
Still you seem doubtfull: be not wanting to
Your selvs, nor let the strangenesse of the means,
With the shadow of some danger, render you
Incredulous.

Lady.
Our usage hath been such,
As we can faintly hope that your intents,
And language are the same.

Luke.
I'le change those hopes
To certainties.

Sir John.
With what art he winds about them!

Luke.
What wil you say? or what thanks shall I look for?
If now I raise you to such eminence, as
The wife, and daughters of a Citizen
Never arriv'd at. Many for their wealth (I grant)
Have written Ladies of honor, and some few
The Banquet ready. One Chair, and Wine.
Have higher titles, and that's the farthest rise
You can in England hope for. What think you
If I should mark you out a way to live
Queens in another climate?

Ann.
Wee desire
A competence.

Mary.
And prefer our Countries smoke
Before outlandish fire.

Lady.
But should we listen
To such impossibilities, 'tis not in
The power of man to make it good.

Luke.
I'le doo't.
Nor is this seat of majesty far remov'd.
It is but to Virginia.

Lady.
How, Virginia!
High Heaven forbid. Remember Sir, I beseech you,
What creatures are shipp'd thither.

Ann.
Condemn'd wretches,
Forfeited to the law.

Mary.
Strumpets and Bauds,
For the abomination of their life,
Spew'd out of their own Country.

Luke.
Your false fears
Abuse my noble purposes. Such indeed
Are sent as slaves to labour there, but you
To absolute soveraignty. Observe these men,
With reverence observe them. They are Kings,
Kings of such spacious territories, and dominions:
As our great Brtitain measur'd, will appear
A garden too't.

Lacie.
You shall be ador'd there
As Goddesses.

Sir John.
Your litters made of gold
Supported by your vassalls, proud to bear
The burthen on their shoulders.

Plenty.
Pomp, and ease,
With delicates that Europe never knew,
Like Pages shall wait on you.

Luke.
If you have minds
To entertain the greatnesse offer'd to you,
With outstretched arms, and willing hands embrace it.
But this refus'd, imagine what can make you
Most miserable here, and rest assur'd,
In storms it falls upon you: take em in,
And use your best perswasion. If that fail,
I'le send em aboard in a dry fat.

Sir John.
Be not mov'd Sir.
Exeunt Lacie. Plenty, Lady, Ann, Mary.
Wee'l work'em to your will: yet e're we part,
Your worldly cares defer'd, a little mirth
Would not misbecome us.

Luke.
You say well. And now
It coms into my memory, this is my birth-day,
Which with solemity I would observe,
But that it would ask cost.

Sir John.
That shall not grieve you.
By my art I will prepare you such a feast,
As Persia in her height of pomp, and riot
Did never equall: and ravishing Musick
As the Italian Princes seldome heard
At their greatest entertainments. Name your guests.

Luke.
I must have none.

Sir John.
Not the City Senate?

Luke.
No.
Nor yet poor neighbours. The first would argue me
Of foolish ostentation, The latter
Of too much hospitality, and a virtue
Grown obsolete, and uselesse. I will sit
Alone, and surfet in my store, while others
With envy pine at it. My Genius pamper'd
With the thought of what I am, and what they suffer
I have mark'd out to miserie.

Sir John.
You shall;
And somthing I will add, you yet conceive not,
Nor will I be slow-pac'd.

Luke.
I have one businesse,
And that dispatch'd I am free.

Sir John.
About it Sir,
Leave the rest to me.

Luke.
Till now I ne're lov'd magick.

Exeunt.

Scena secunda.

Enter Lord, Old Goldwire, and Old Tradewell.
Lord.
Believe me, gentlemen! I never was
So cozen'd in a fellow. He disguis'd
Hypocrisie in such a cunning shape
Of reall goodnesse, that I would have sworn
This divell a Saint. M. Goldwire, and M. Tradewell,
What do you mean to do? put on.

Old Goldwire.
With your Lordships favour.

Lord.
I'le have it so.

Old Tradew.
Your will, my Lord, excuses
The rudenesse of our manners.

Lord.
You have receiv'd
Penitent letters from your sons I doubt not?

Old Tradew.
They are our onely sons.

Old Goldw.
And as we are fathers,
Remembring the errous of our youth,
We would pardon slips in them.

Old Tradewell.
and pay for'em
In a moderate way.

Old Goldw.
In which we hope your Lordship
Will be our mediator.

Lrrd.
All my power,
Enter Luke.
You freely shall command. 'Tis he! you are wel met.
And to my wish. And wondrous brave,
Your habit speaks you a Merchant royall.

Luke.
What I wear, I take not upon trust.

Lord.
Your betters may, and blush not for't.

Luke.
If you have nought else with me
But to argue that, I will make bold to leave you.

Lord.
You are very peremptory, pray you stay.
I once held you an upright honest man.

Luke.
I am honester now
By a hundred thousand pound, I thank my stars for't,
Upon the Exchange, and if your late opinion
Be alter'd, who can help it? good my Lord
To the point. I have other businesse then to talk
Of honesty, and opinions.

Lord.
Yet you may
Do well, if you please, to shew the one, and merit
The other from good men, in a case that now
Is offer'd to you.

Luke.
What is't? I am troubl'd.

Lord.
Here are two gentlemen, the fathers of
Your brothers prentices.

Luke.
Mine, my Lord, I take it.

Lord.
Mr. Goldwire, and Mr. Tradewell.

Luke.
They are welcome, if
They come prepar'd to satisfie the damage
I have sustain'd by their sons.

Old Goldw.
We are, so you please
To use a conscience.

Old Tradew.
Which we hope you will do,
For your own worships sake.

Luke.
Conscience, my friends,
And wealth are not always neighbours. Should I part
With what the law gives me, I should suffer mainly
In my reputation. For it would convince me
Of indiscretion. Nor will you I hope move me
To do my self such prejudice.

Lord.
No moderation.

Luke.
They cannot look for't, and preserve in
Me a thriving Citizens credit. Your bonds lie
For your sons truth, and they shall answer all
They have run out. The masters never prosper'd
Since gentlemens sons grew prentices. When we look
To have our business done at home, they are
Abroad in the Tenis-court, or in partridge-alley,
In Lambeth Marsh, or a cheating Ordinary
Where I found your sons, I have your Bonds, look too's.
A thousand pounds a piece, and that will hardly
Repair my losses.

Lord.
Thou dar'st not shew thy self
Such a divel.

Luke.
Good words.

Lord.
Such a cut-throat. I have heard of
The usage of your brothers wife, and daughters.
You shall find you are not lawlesse, and that your
Moneys cannot justifie your villanies.

Luke.
I indure this.
And good my Lord now you talk in time of moneys,
Pay in what you owe me. And give me leav to wonder
Your wisedome should have leisure to consider
The businesse of these gentlemen, or my carriage
To my Sister, or my Neeces, being your self
So much in my danger.

Lord.
In thy danger?

Luke.
mine.
I find in my counting house a Mannor pawn'd,
Pawn'd, my good Lord, Lacie-Mannour, and that Mannour
From which you have the title of a Lord,
And it please your good Lordship. You are a noble man
Pray you pay in my moneys. The interest
Plenty ready to speak within
Will eat faster in't, then Aqua fortis in iron.
Now though you bear me hard, I love your Lordship.
I grant your person to be priviledg'd
From all arrests. Yet there lives a foolish creature
Call'd an Under-sheriffe, who being well paid, will serve
An extent on Lords, or Lowns land. Pay it in,
I would be loth your name should sink. Or that
Your hopefull son, when he returns from travel,
Should find you my lord without land. You are angry
For my good counsell. Look you to your Bonds: had I known
Of your comming, believe it I would have had Serjeants ready:
Lord how you fret! but that a Tavern's near
You should taste a cup of Muscadine in my house,
To wash down sorrow, but there it will do better,
I know you'l drink a health to me.
Exit Luke.

Lord.
To thy damnation.
Was there ever such a villain! Heaven forgive me
For speeking so unchristianly, though he deservs it.

Old Goldw.
We are undone.

Old Tradew.
Our families quite ruin'd.

Lord.
Take courage gentlemen. Comfort may appear
And punishment overtake him, when he least expects it.

Exeunt.

Scena ultima.

Enter Sir John, and Holdfast.
Sir John.
Be silent on your life.

Holdfast.
I am or'ejoy'd.

Sir John.
Are the pictures plac'd as I directed?

Holdfast.
Yes Sir.

Sir John.
And the musicians ready?

Holdfast.
All is done
As you comanded.

at the door.
Sir John.
Make haste, and be carefull,
You know your cue, and postures.

Plenty
within.
We are perfit.

Sir John.
'Tis well: the rest are come too?

Holdfast.
And dispos'd of
To your own wish.

Sir John.
Set forth the table. So.
Enter Servants with a rich Banquet.
A perfit Banquet. At the upper end,
A table, and rich Banquet.
His chair in state, he shall feast like a Prince.

Holdfast.
And rise like a Dutch hang-man.

Enter Luke.
Sir John.
Not a word more.
How like you the preparation? fill your room,
And faste the cates, then in your thought consider
A rich man, that lives wisely to himself,
In his full height of glory.

Luke.
I can brook
No rivall in this happinesse. How sweetly
These dainties, when unpay'd for, please my palate!
Some wine. Joves Nectar, Brightnesse to the star
That govern'd at my birth. Shoot down thy influence,
And with a perpetuity of being
Continue this felicity, not gain'd
By vows to Saints above, and much lesse purchas'd
By the thriving industry; nor fal'n upon me
As a reward to piety, and religion,
Or service for my Country. I owe all this
To dissimulation, and the shape
I wore of goodnesse. Let my brother number
His beads devoutly, and believe his alms
To beggars, his compassion to his debters,
Will wing his better part, disrob'd of flesh,
To sore above the firmament. I am well,
And so I surfet here in all abundance;
Though stil'd a cormorant, a cut-throat, Jew,
And prosecuted with the fatal curses
Of widdows, undone Orphans, and what else
Such as maligne my state can load me with,
I will not envie it. You promis'd musick?

Sir John.
And you shall hear the strength and power
Of it, the spirit of Orpheus rais'd to make it good,
And in those ravishing strains with which he mov'd
Charon and Cerberus to give him way
To fetch from hell his lost Euridice.
Appear swifter then thought.

Musick. At one door Cerberus, at the other, Charon, Orpheus, Chorus.
Luke.
'Tis wondrous strange.

Sir John.
Does not the object and the accent take you?

Luke.
A pretty fable. But that musick should
Plenty and Lacie ready behind.
Alter in friends their nature, is to me
Impossible. Since in my self I find
What I have once decreed, shall know no change.

Sir John.
You are constant to your purposes, yet I think
That I could stagger you.

Luke.
How?

Sir John.
Should I present
Your servants, debters, and the rest that suffer
By your fit severity, I presume the sight
Would move you to compassion.

Luke.
Not a mote.
The musick that your Orpheus made, was harsh
To the delight I should receive in hearing
Their cries, and groans. If it be in your power
I would now see'em.

Sir John.
Spirits in their shapes
Shal shew them as they are. But if it should move you?

Luke.
If it do. May I ne're find pity.

Sir John.
Be your own judge.
Appear as I commanded.

Sad musick. Enter Goldwire, and Tradewell as from prison. Fortune, Hoyst, Penurie following after them. Shavem in a blew gown, Secret, Dingem, Old Tradewel, and Old Goldwire with Serjeants. As erected they all kneel to Luke, heaving up their hands for mercy. Stargaze with a pack of Alminacks, Milliscent.
Luke.
Ha, ha, ha!
This move me to compassion? or raise
One sign of seeming pity in my face?
You are deceiv'd: it rather renders me
more flinty, and obdurate. A South wind
Shall sooner soften marble, and the rain
That slides down gently from his flaggy wings
O'reflow the Alps: then knees, or tears, or groans
Shall wrest compunction from me. 'Tis my glory
That they are wretched, and by me made so,
It sets my happinesse off. I could not triumph
If these were not my captives. Ha! my tarriers
As it appears have seiz'd on these old foxes,
As I gave order. New addition to
My Scene of mirth. Ha, ha! They now grow tedious
Let'em be remov'd, some other object. If
Your art can shew it.

Sir John.
You shall perceive 'tis boundlesse.
Yet one thing reall if you please?

Luke.
What is it?

S. Jo.
Your Neeces er'e they put to Sea, crave humbly
Though absent in their bodys, they may take leave
Of their late suitors statues.

Enter Lady, Anne, and Mary.
Luke.
There they hang,
In things different I am tractable.

Sir John.
There pay your vows you have liberty.

Ann.
O sweet figure
Of my abused Lacie! when remov'd
Into another world; I'le daily pay
A sacrifice of sighs, to thy remembrance;
And with a shower of tears strive to wash of
The stain of that contempt, my foolish pride,
And insolence threw upon thee.

Marie.
I had been
Too happie, if I had injoy'd the substance,
But far unworthy of it, now I shall
Thus prostrate to thy statue.

Lady.
My kind husband,
Blessed in my misery, from the monastery
To which my disobedience confin'd thee,
With thy souls eye, which distance cannot hinder,
Look on my penitence. O that I could
Call back time past, thy holy vow dispens'd,
With what humility would I observe
My long neglected duty.

Sir John.
Does not this move you?

Luke.
Yes as they do the statues, and her sorrow
My absent brother. If by your magick art
You can give life to these, or bring him hither
To witnesse her repentance, I may have
Perchance some feeling of it.

Sir John.
For your sport
You shall see a Master-piece. Here's nothing but
A superficies, colours, and no substance.
Sit still, and to your wonder, and amazement
I'le give these Organs. This the sacrifice
To make the great work perfect.

Enter Lacie and Plenty.
Luke.
Prodigious.

S. John.
Nay they have life, and motion. Descend
And for your absent brother. This wash'd off
Against your will you shall know him.

Enter Lord and the rest.
Luke.
I am lost.
Guilt strikes me dumb.

Sir John.
You have seen my Lord the pageant.

Lord.
I have, and am ravish'd with it.

S. John.
What think you now
Of this clear soul? this honest pious man?
Have I stripp'd him bare. Or will your Lordship have
A farther triall of him? 'tis not in a wolf to change his natute.

Lord.
I long since confess'd my errours

S. John.
Look up, I forgive you,
And seal your pardons thus.

Lady.
I am too full
Of joy to speak it.

Ann.
I am another creature,
Not what I was.

Mary.
I vow to shew my self
When I am married, an humble wife,
Not a commanding mistris.

Plenty.
On those terms
I gladly thus embrace you.

Lacie.
Welcome to
My bosome. As the one half of my self,
I'le love you, and cherish you.

Goldwire.
Mercy.

Tradewell and the rest.
Good Sir mercy.

Sir John.
This day is sacred to it. All shall find me
As far as lawfull pity can give way too't,
Indulgent to your wishes, though with losse
Unto my self. My kind, and honest brother,
Looking into your self, have you seen the Gorgon?
What a golden dream you have had in the possession
Of my estate? but here's a revocation
That wakes you out of it. Monster in nature
Revengefull, avaritious Atheist,
Transcending all example. But I shall bee
A sharer in thy crimes, should I repeat 'em.
What wilt thou do? Turn hypocrite again,
With hope dissimulation can aid thee?
Or that one eye will shed a tear in sign
Of sorrow for thee? I have warrant to
Make bold with mine own, pray you uncase. This key too
I must make bold with. Hide thy self in some desart,
Where good men ner'e may find thee: or in justice
Pack to Virginia, and repent. Not for
Those horrid ends to which thou did'st design these.

Luke.
I care not where I go, what's done with words
Cannot be undone.
Exit Luke.

Lady.
Yet Sir, shew some mercy;
Because his cruelty to me, and mine,
Did good upon us.

Sir John.
Of that at better leisure,
As his penitencie shall work me. Make you good
Your promis'd reformation, and mistrust
Our City dames, whom wealth makes proud, to move
In their own spheres, and willingly to confesse
In their habits, manners, and their highest port,
A distance 'twixt the City, and the Court.

Exeunt omnes.