 | The Noble Gentleman |  |
Actus Primus
Scæna Prima.
Enter Gentleman and Jaques.Gent.
What happiness waits on the life at Court,
What dear content, greatness, delight & ease?
What ever-springing hopes, what tides of honour,
That raise their fortunes to the height of wishes?
What can be more in man, what more in nature,
Then to be great and fear'd? A Courtier,
A noble Courtier, 'Tis a name that drawes
Wonder, and dutie, from all eyes and knees.
Jaq.
And so your Worships land within the walls,
Where you shall have it all inclos'd and sure.
Gent.
Peace knave; dull creature, bred of sweate and smoke,
These mysteries are far above thy faith:
But thou shalt see—
Jaq.
And then I shall believe;
Your faire revenues; turn'd into faire suites,
I shall believe your Tenants bruis'd and rent
Under the weight of Coaches, all your state
Drawn through the streets in triumph, suits for places
Plied with a mine of gold, and being got
Fed with a great streame, I shall believe all this.
Gent.
You shall believe, and know me glorious.
Cozin good day and health.
Enter Cozen.
Couzen.
The same to you Sir,
And more, without my wishes, could you know
What calm content dwels in a private house:
Yet looke into your selfe, retire: this place
Of promises, and protestations, fits
Minds only bent to ruine, you should know this,
You have their language perfect, you have tutors
I doe not doubt sufficient: but beware.
Gent.
You are merry Couzin:
Cozen.
Yet your patience,
You shall learn that too, but not like it selfe
Where it is held a vertue; tell me Sir,
Have you cast up your state, rated your land,
And finde it able to endure the change
Of time and fashion? is it alwayes harvest?
Alwayes vintage? have you ships at Sea
To bring you gold, and stone from rich Peru
Monthly returning treasure? doth the King
Open his large Exchequer to your hands
And bid you be a great man? can your wife
Coyne off her beauty? or the weeke allow
Suites to each day? and know no ebb in honour?
If these be possible, and can hold out,
Then be a Courtier still, and still be wasting,
Gen.
Cozen, pray give me leave:
Cous.
I have done.
Gen.
I could requite your gall, and in a straine
As bitter, and as full of Rubard, preacht
Against your Countrey life, but 'tis below me
And only subject to my pitty, know
The eminent court, to them that can be wise,
And fasten on her blessings, is a sunne
That drawes men up from course and earthly being,
I meane these men of merit that have power
And reason to make good her benefits,
Learns them a manly boldnesse, gives their tongues
Sweetnesse of language, makes them apt to please;
Files of all rudenesse, and uncivill haviour,
Shews them as neat in carriage as in cloaths;
Cozen have you ever seen the Court?
Cous.
No Sir,
Nor am I yet in travaile with that longing.
Gent.
O the state, and greatnesse of that place
Where men are found
Only to give the first creation glory!
Those are the models of the ancient world
Left like the Roman statues to stir up
Our following hopes, the place it selfe puts on
The brow of Majestie, and flings her lustre
Like the aire newly lightned, forme, and order,
Are only there themselues, unforc't, and sound,
As they were first created to this place.
Cous.
You nobly came, but wil goe from thence base.
Gent.
'Twas very pretty, and a good conceite;
You have a wit good Cozen, I do joy in't,
Keep it for Court: but to my selfe againe,
When I have view'd these pieces, turn'd these eyes,
And with some taste of superstition,
Lookt on the wealth of Nature, the faire dames,
Beauties, that lights the Court, and makes it shew
Like a faire heaven, in a frosty night:
And mongst these mine, not poorest, 'tis for tongues
Of blessed Poets, such as Orpheus was,
To give their worth and praises; O deare Cozen:
You have a wife, and faire, bring her hither,
Let her not live to be the Mistris of a Farmers heir
And be confined ever to a serge,
Farre courser then my horse-cloath.
Let her have Velvets, Tiffinies, Jewels, Pearls,
A Coach, an Usher, and her two Lacquies,
And I will send my Wife to give her rules,
And reade the rudiments of Court to her.
Cous.
Sir I had rather send her to Virginia
To help to propagate the English nation.
Enter Servant.
Gen.
Sirra, how slept your Mistris, and what visitants
Are to pay service?
Ser.
Sir as I came out,
Two Counts were newly entered.
Gent.
This is greatnesse,
But few such servants waite a Countrey beauty.
Cous.
They are the more to thank their modesty,
God keep my wife, and all my Issue female
From such uprisings.
Enter a Doctor.
Gent.
What? my learned Doctor?
You will be welcome, give her health and youth
And I will give you gold.
Exit Doctor.
Cozen, how savours this? is it not sweet?
And very great, tasts it not of Noblenesse?
Cous.
Faith Sir my pallat is too dull and lazie
I cannot taste it, 'tis not for my relish,
But be so still.
Since your own misery must first reclaime ye,
To which I leave you Sir,
If you will yet be happy, leave the humour
And base subjection to your Wife, be wise,
And let her know with speed you are her husband,
I shall be glad to heare it.
My horse is sent for.
Exit.
28
Even such another countrey thing as this
Was I, such a piece of durt, so heavy,
So provident to heap up ignorance,
And be an asse: such musty cloaths wore I,
So old and threed-bare: I do yet remember
Divers young Gallants lighting at my gate,
To see my honoured wife, have offered pence,
And bid me walk their horses, such a slave
Was I in shew then: but my eyes are open'd.
Enter Gent. Wife.
Many sweet morrows to my worthy Wife.
Wife.
'Tis well, and aptly given, as much for you,
But to my present businesse, which is money—
Gent.
Lady I have none left.
Wife.
I hope you dare not say so, nor imagin so base and lowe,
A thought: I have none left.
Are these words fitting for a man of worth,
And one of your full credite? Do you know
The place you live in? me, and what I labour
For, you? and your advancement?
Gent.
Yes my dearest.
Wife.
And do you pop me off with this slight answer,
In troth I have none left? in troth you must have;
Nay stare not, 'tis most true, send speedily
To all that love you, let your people flye
Like thunder through the Citie,
And not return under five thousand crownes.
Try all, take all, let not a wealthy merchant be untempted
Or any that hath the name of money,
Take up at any use, give band, or land,
Or mighty statutes able by their strength
To tye up Sampson were he now alive,
There must be money gotten; for be perswaded,
If we fall now, or be but seen to shrinke,
Under our faire beginnings, 'tis our ruine,
And then good-night to all, (but our disgrace)
Farewell the hope of comming happinesse,
And all the aimes we levied at so long.
Are ye not mov'd at this? no sense of want,
Towards your selfe yet breeding? be old,
And common; jaded to the eyes
Of groomes, and pages, chamber-maides, and garders,
And when you have done, put your poor house in order
And hang your selfe, for such must be the end
Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes
And hath a joy to tumble to his ruine.
All that I say is certaine, if ye faile
Do not impute me with it, I am cleare.
Gent.
Now heaven forbid I should do wrong to you
My dearest Wife, and Madam; yet give leave
To your poore creature to unfold himselfe.
You know my debts are many more then meanes,
My bands not taken in, my friends at home
Drawn dry with these expences, my poore Tenants
More full of want then we, then what new course
Can I beget to raise those crowns by? speake,
And I shall execute.
Wife.
Pray tell me true,
Have you not land in the Countrey?
Gent.
Pardon me, I had forgot it.
Wife.
Sir, you must remember it,
There is no remedy, this land must be
In Paris ere to morrow night.
Gent.
It shall, let me consider, some 300. acres
Will serve the turne.
Wife.
'Twill furnish at all points,
Now you speak like your selfe, and know like him,
That meanes to be man, suspect no lesse
For the return will give ye five for one,
You shall be great to morrow, I have said it.
Farewell, and see this businesse be a-foote
With expedition.
Exit Wife.
Gent.
Health, all joy, and honour
Waite on my lovely wife. What? Jaques, Iaques.
Enter Jaques.
Ja.
Sir did you call?
Gent.
I did so, hie the Iaques.
Downe to the Bancke, and there to some good Merchant
(Conceive me well good Iaques, and be private)
Offer 300. acres of my land:
Say it is choise, and fertile, aske upon it
Five thousand Crowns, this is the businesse
I must employ thee in, be wise and speedy.
Ja.
Sir do not do this.
Gent.
Knave I must have money.
Ia.
If you have money thus, your knave must tell ye
You will not have a foote of land left, be more warie
And more friend to your selfe, this honest land
Your Worship has discarded, has been true,
And done you loyall service.
Gent.
Gentle Iaques,
You have a merry wit, employ it well
About the businesse you have now in hand.
When ye come backe, enquire me in the presence,
If not, in the Tennis-Court, or at my house.
Exit.
Ia.
If this vaine hold, I know where to enquire ye.
Five thousand crowns, this with good husbandry
May hold a month out, then 5000. more,
And more land a bleeding for't, as many more
And more land laid aside. God and St. Dennis
Keep honest minded young men Bachellers.
'Tis strange My Mr. should be yet so young
A puppy, that he cannot see his fall
And got so neare the sun. I'le to his Cozen
And once more tell him on't, if he faile,
Then to my mortgage, next unto my sale.
Exit.
Enter Longovile, Bewford, and the Servant.
Serv.
Gentlemen, hold on discourse a while,
I shall return with knowledge how, and where
We shall have best accesse unto my Mistris
To Tender your devotions.
Exit
Long.
Be it so:
Now to our first discourse.
Bew.
I prethee peace;
Thou canst not be so bad, or make me know
Such things are living, doe not give thy selfe
So common and so idle, so open vile,
So great a wronger of thy worth, so low,
I cannot, nor I must not credite thee.
Lon.
Now by this light I am a Whore-master,
An open and an excellent Whore-master,
And take a speciall glory that I am so:
I thank my stars I am a Whore-master,
And such a one as dare be known and seen,
And pointed at to be a noble wencher.
Bew.
Do not let all eares heare this, harke ye Sir,
I am my selfe a Whore-master, I am
Believe it Sir (In private be it spoken)
I love a VVhore directly, most men are Wenchers,
And have profest the science, few men
That looks upon ye now, but Whore-masters,
Or have a full desire to be so.
Lon.
This is noble.
Bew.
It is without all question, being private,
And held as needfull as intelligence,
But being once discover'd, blown abroad,
29
Then geometrical rules in Carpenters
That only know some measure of an art,
But are not grounded: be no more deceived,
I have a conscience to reclaim you, Sir.
Mistake me not: I do not bid you leave your whore
Or lesse to love her; forbid it
I should be such a villain to my friend,
Or so unnaturall: 'twas never harbor'd here,
Learn to be secret first, then strike your Deere.
Long.
Your faire instructions Monsieur I shall learn.
Bew.
And you shall have them: I desire your care.
Long.
They are your servants.
Bew.
You must not love.
Long.
How Sir?
Bew.
I meane a Lady, theres danger
Shee hath an Usher and a Waiting-Gentlewoman,
A page, a Coach-man, these are feed, and fee'd
And yet for all that will be prating.
Long.
So.
Bew.
You understand me Sir, they will discover't,
And there is a losse of credite: table talke
Will be the end of this, or worse, then that;
Will this be worthy of a Gentleman?
Long.
Proceed good Sir.
Bew.
Next leave your City Dame;
The best of that tribe are most meerly coy,
Or most extreamely foolish, both which vices
Are no great stirrers up, unlesse in husbands
That owe this Cattle, fearing her thats coy
To be but seeming, her that's foole too forward.
Long.
This is the rarest fellow, and the soundest
I meane in knowledge, that ere wore a Codpiece,
H'as found out that will passe all Italy,
All France and England, to their shames I speake
And to the griefes of all their Gentlemen
The noble theory of luxury.
Bew.
Your patience,
And I will lay before your eyes a course
That I my selfe found out, 'tis excellent,
Easy, and full of freedome.
Long.
O good Sir,
You rack me till I know it.
Bew.
This it is,
When your desire is up, your blood well heated
And apt for sweet encounter, chuse the night
And with the night your wench the streets have store,
There seize upon her, get her to your chamber,
Give her a cardecew, 'tis royall payment
When ye are dull, dismisse her, no man knows
Nor she her selfe, who hath encountred her.
Lon.
O but their faces.
Bew.
Nere talke of faces:
The night allows her equall with a Dutches,
Imagination doth all think her faire,
And great, clapt in velvet, she is so
Sir, I have tryed those, and do find it certaine
It never failes me, 'tis but twelve nights since
My last experience.
Lon.
O my meiching varlet, I'le fit ye as I live.
'Tis excellent, I'le be your Scholler Sir.
Enter Lady and Servant.
Wife.
You are fairly welcome both: troth Gentlemen
You have been strangers, I could chide you for't,
And taske ye with unkindness, what's the news?
The towne was never empty of some novelty;
Servant, what's your intelligence?
Ser.
Faith nothing.
I have not heard of any worth relating
Bew.
Nor I sweet Lady.
Lon.
Then give me attention,
Monsieur Shattillion's mad.
Wife.
Mad?
Lon.
Mad as May-butter,
And which is more, mad for a wench.
Lady.
'Tis strange, and full of pitty.
Lon.
All that comes neare him
He thinks are come of purpose to betray him,
Being full of strange conceite: the wench he loved
Stood very near the Crowne.
Lady.
Alas good Monsieur;
A' was a proper man, and faire demean'd,
A person worthy of a better temper.
Lon.
He is strong opinion'd that the wench he loved
Remaines close prisoner by the Kings command:
Fearing her title, when the poore grieved Gentlewoman
Follows him much lamenting, and much loving
In hope to make him well, he knows her not,
Nor any else that comes to visite him.
Lady.
Let's walk in Gentlemen, and there discourse
His further miseries, you shall stay dinner,
In truth you must obey.
Om.
We are your servants.
Exeunt.
Enter Couzen.
Cous.
Ther's no good to be done, no cure to be wrought
Upon my desperate kinsman: I'le to horse
And leave him to the fooles whip, misery.
I shall recover twenty miles this night,
My horse stands ready, I'le away with speed.
Enter Shattillion.
Shat.
Sir, may I crave your name?
Cous.
Yes Sir you may:
My name is Cleremon.
Shat.
'Tis wel, your faction?
What party knit you with?
Cous.
I know no parties,
Nor no factions Sir.
Shat.
Then weare this crosse of white:
And where you see the like they are my friends,
Observe them well, the time is dangerous.
Cous.
Sir keep your crosse, I'le wear none, sure this fellow
Is much beside himselfe, grown mad.
Shat.
A word Sir;
You can pick nothing out of this, this crosse
Is nothing but a crosse, a very crosse,
Plaine without spell or witch-craft, search it,
You may suspect, and well, there's poyson in't,
Powder, or wild-fire, but 'tis nothing so.
Cous.
I do beleeve you Sir, 'tis a plain crosse.
Shat.
Then do your worst, I care not, tell the King,
Let him know all this, as I am sure he shall;
When you have spit your venome, then will I
Stand up a faithfull, and a loyall subject,
And so God save His Grace, this is no Treason.
Cous.
He is March mad, farewell Monsieur.
Exit Couzen.
Shat.
Farewell;
I shall be here attending, 'tis my life
They aime at, there's no way to save it, well
Let 'em spread all their nets: they shall not draw me
Into any open Treason, I can see,
And can beware, I have my wits about me,
I thanke heaven for't.
Enter Love.
Love.
There he goes,
That was the fairest hope the French Court bred,
The worthiest and the sweetest temper'd spirit,
30
Till most unhappy I: sever'd those vertues
And turn'd his wit wild with a coy deniall,
Which heaven forgive me, and be pleas'd, O heaven
To give againe his senses: that my love
May strike off all my follies.
Shat.
Lady.
Lov.
I Sis
Shat.
Your will with me sweete Lady.
Lov.
Sir I come.
Shat.
From the dread souraigne King, I know it Lady,
He is a gracious Prince, long may he live,
Pertaine you to his chamber?
Lov.
No indeed Sir,
That place is not for women, do you know me?
Shat.
Yes, I do know you.
Lov.
Whats my name? pray you speake.
Shat.
Thats all one, I do know you and your businesse,
You are discovered Lady, I am warie,
It stands upon my life; pray excuse me,
The best man of this kingdome sent you hither,
To dive into me, have I toucht you? ha?
Lov.
You are deceiv'd Sir, I come from your love,
That sends you faire commends, and many kisses.
Shat.
Alas poore soule how does she? is she living?
Keepes she her bed still?
Lov.
Still Sir, She is living,
And well, and shall do so.
Shat.
Are ye in counsell?
Lov.
No Sir, nor any of my sex.
Shat.
Why so,
If you had been in counsell, you would know,
Her time to be but slender; she must die.
Lov.
I do believe it Sir.
Shat.
And suddainely,
She stands too neare a fortune.
Lov.
Sir?
Shat.
'Tis so,
There is no jesting with a Princes title,
Would we had both been borne of common parents
And liv'd a private and retired life,
In homely cottage, we had then enjoyed,
Our loves, and our embraces, these are things,
That cannot tend to treason—
Lov.
I am wretched.
Shat.
O I pray as often for the King as any,
And with as true a hart, for's continuance,
And do moreover pray his heires may live;
And their faire issues, then as I am bound
For all the states and commons, if these prayers
Be any wayes ambitious, I submit,
And lay my head downe let 'em take it off;
You may informe against me, but withall
Remember my obedience to the crowne,
And service to the state.
Lov.
Good Sir, I love yee.
Shat.
Then love the gratious King, and say with me
Lov.
Heaven save his grace.
Shat.
This is strange—
A woman should be sent to undermine me,
And buz love into me to try my spirit;
Offer me kisses and enticing follies,
To make me open and betray my selfe;
It was a subtle and a dangerous plot,
And very soundly followed, farewell Lady,
Let me have equall hearing, and relate
I am an honest man. Heaven save the King.
Exit.
Love.
I'le never leave him, till by art or prayer
I have restorde his senses, If I make
Him perfect man againe, he's mine still, when
I here abjure all loves of other men.
Exit.
Enter Cozen, and Jaques.
Jaques.
Nay, good Sir be perswaded, go but back,
And tell him hee's undone, say nothing else;
And you shall see how things will worke upon't.
Cozen.
Not so good Jaques, I am held an asse
A countrey foole, good to converse with durte
And eate course bread, weare the worst wooll,
Know nothing but the high way to Paris,
And wouldst thou have me bring these staynes,
And imperfections to the rising veiw
Of the right worshipfull thy worthy Master?
They must be bright and shine, their cloathes
Soft velvet and the trojan purple
Like the Arabian gums, hung like the Sun,
Their golden beames on all sides;
Such as these may come and know,
Thy Master, I am base and dare not speake unto him,
Hee's above me.
Ja.
If ever you did love him, or his state,
His name, his issue, or your selfe, go backe:
'Twill be an honest and a noble part
Worthy a kinsman, save 300 acres
From present execution; they have had sentence,
And cannot be repriev'd, be mercifull.
Co.
Have I not urg'd already all the reasons,
I had to draw him from his will? his ruine?
But all in vaine, no counsell will prevaile,
Has fixt himselfe, ther's no removing Jaques,
'Twil prove but breath and labour spent in vaine,
I'le to my horse, farewell.
Ja.
For Gods sake Sir,
As ever you have hope of joy turne backe;
I'le be your slave for ever, do but go,
And I will lay such faire directions to you
That if hee be not doting on his fall,
He shall recover sight, and see his danger,
And ye shall tell him of his wives abuses,
I feare, to foule against him; how she plots,
With our young Mounsiers, to milke dry her husband,
And lay it on their backs, the next her pride,
Then what his debts are, and how infinite
The curses of his tenants, this will worke
I'le pawne my life and head, he cryes away,
I'le to my house in the Countrey.
Co.
Come I'le go, and once more try him,
If he yeild not, so,
The next that tryes him shall be want and woe.
Exeunt.
| The Noble Gentleman | |