 | Monsieur Thomas |  |
Actus Quartus.
Scena Prima.
Enter Valentine, Alice, and Servant.Val.
He cannot goe and take no farewel of me,
Can he be so unkind? he's but retir'd
Into the Garden or the Orchard: see Sirs.
Ali.
He would not ride there certain, those were planted
Only for walks I take it.
Val.
Ride? nay then,
Had he a horse out?
Ser.
So the Groom delivers
Somewhat before the break of day.
Val.
He's gone,
My best friend's gone Alice; I have lost the noblest,
The truest, and the most man I e're found yet.
Alice.
Indeed Sir, he deserves all praise.
Val.
All Sister,
All, all, and all too little: O that honesty,
That ermine honesty, unspotted ever,
That perfect goodness.
Alice.
Sure he will return Sir,
He cannot be so harsh.
Val.
O never, never,
Never return, thou know'st not where the cause lyes.
Alice.
He was the worthiest welcom.
Val.
He deserv'd it.
Alice.
Nor wanted, to our knowledge.
Val.
I will tell thee,
Within this hour, things that shall startle thee,
He never must return.
Enter Michael.
Mich.
Good morrow Signieur.
Val.
Good morrow Master Michael.
Mich.
My good neighbour,
Me thinks you are stirring early since your travel,
You have learn'd the rule of health sir, where's your mistress?
She keeps her warm I warrant ye, i' bed yet?
Val.
I think she does.
Alice.
'Tis not her hour of waking.
Mich.
Did you lye with her, Lady?
Alice.
Not to night Sir,
Nor any night this week else.
Mich.
When last saw ye her?
Alice.
Late yesternight.
Mich.
Was she' bed then?
Alice.
No Sir,
I lest her at her prayers: why do ye ask me?
Mich.
I have been strangely haunted with a dream
All this long night, and after many wakings,
The same dream still; me thought I met young Cellide
Just at S. Katherines gate the Nunnery.
Val.
Ha?
Mic.
Her face slubber'd o're with tears, and troubles,
Me thought she cry'd unto the Lady Abbess,
For charity receive me holy woman,
A Maid that has forgot the worlds affections,
Into thy virgin order: me thought she took her,
Put on a Stole, and sacred robe upon her,
And there I left her.
Val.
Dream?
Mich.
Good Mistress Alice
Do me the favour (yet to satisfie me)
To step but up, and see.
Alice.
I know she's there Sir,
And all this but a dream:
Mich.
You know not my dreams,
They are unhappy ones, and often truths,
But this I hope, yet.
Alice.
I will satisfie ye.
[Exit.
Mich.
Neighbours, how does the Gentleman?
Val.
I know not,
Dream of a Nunnery?
Mich.
How found ye my words
About the nature of his sickness Valentine?
Val.
Did she not cry out, 'twas my folly too
That forc'd her to this nunnery? did she not curse me?
For God sake speak: did you not dream of me too,
How basely, poorly, tamely, like a fool,
Tir'd with his joyes?
Mich.
Alas poor Gentleman,
Ye promis'd me Sir to bear all these crosses.
Val.
I bear 'em till I break again.
Mich.
But nobly,
Truly to weigh.
Val.
Good neighbours, no more of it,
Ye do but fling flax on my fire: where is she?
Enter Alice.
Ali.
Not yonder Sir, nor has not this night certain
Been in her bed.
Mich.
It must be truth she tells ye,
And now I'le shew ye why I came: this morning
A man of mine being employed about business,
Came early home, who at S. Katherines Nunnery,
About day peep, told me he met your Mistress,
And as I spoke it in a dream, so troubled
And so received by the Abbess, did he see her,
The wonder made me rise, and hast unto ye
To know the cause.
Val.
Farewel, I cannot speak it.
[Exit Val.
Alice.
For Heaven sake leave him not.
Mich.
I will not Lady.
Alice.
Alas, he's much afflicted,
Mich.
We shall know shortly more, apply your own care
At home good Alice, and trust him to my counsel,
Nay, do not weep, all shall be well, despair not.
[Exeunt.
SCENA II.
Enter Sebastian, and a Servant.Seb.
At Valentines house so merry?
Ser.
As a pie Sir.
Seb.
So gamesom dost thou say?
Ser.
I am sure I heard it.
Seb.
Ballads, and Fidles too?
Ser.
No, but one Fidle;
But twenty noyses.
Enter Launcelot.
Seb.
Did he do devises?
Ser.
The best devises Sir: here's my fellow Launcelot
He can inform ye all: he was among 'em,
A mad thing too: I stood but in a corner.
Seb.
Come Sir, what can you say? is there any hope yet
Your Master may return?
Laun.
He went far else,
I will assure your worship on my credit
By the faith of a Travellor, and a Gentleman,
Your son is found again, the son, the Tom.
Seb.
Is he the old Tom?
Laun.
The old Tom.
Seb.
Go forward.
Laun.
Next, to consider how he is the old Tom.
Seb.
Handle me that.
Laun.
I would ye had seen it handled
Last night Sir, as we handled it: cap a pe,
Footra for leers, and learnings; O the noise,
The noise we made.
Seb.
Good, good.
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The windows clattering
And all the Chambermaids in such a whobub,
One with her smock half off, another in hast
With a serving mans hose upon her head.
Seb.
Good still.
Lan.
A fellow railing out of a loop-hole there,
And his mouth stopt with durt.
Seb.
I' faith a fine Boy.
Lan.
Here one of our heads broke.
Seb.
Excellent good still.
Lan.
The Gentleman himself, young M. Thomas,
Inviron'd with his furious Myrmidons
The fiery Fidler, and my self; now singing,
Now beating at the door, there parlying,
Courting at that window, at the other scalling
And all these several noises to two Trenchers,
Strong with a bottom of brown thred, which show'd admirable.
Seb.
There eat, and grow again, I am pleas'd.
Lan.
Nor here Sir,
Gave we the frolick over: though at length
We quit the Ladies Skonce on composition;
But to the silent streets we turn'd our furies:
A sleeping watchman here we stole the shooes from,
There made a noise, at which he wakes, and follows:
The streets are durty, takes a queen-hith cold,
Hard cheese, and that choaks him o' Munday next:
Windows, and signs we sent to Erebus;
A crue of bawling curs we entertain'd last,
When having let the pigs loose in out parishes,
O the brave cry we made as high as Algate!
Down comes a Constable, and the Sow his Sister
Most traiterously tramples upon Authority,
There a whole stand of rug gowns rowted manly
And the Kings peace put to flight: a purblind pig here
Runs me his head into the Admirable Lanthorn,
Out goes the light, and all turns to confusion:
A potter rises, to enquire this passion,
A Boar imbost takes sanctuary in his shop,
When twenty dogs rush after, we still cheering,
Down goe the pots, and pipkins, down the pudding pans,
The cream-bolls cry revenge here, there the candlesticks.
Seb.
If this be true, thou little tyney page,
This tale that thou tell'st me,
Then on thy back will I presently hang
A handsom new Livery:
But if this be false, thou little tyney page
As false it well may be,
Then with a cudgel of four foot long
I'le beat thee from head to toe.
Enter Servant.
Seb.
Will the boy come?
Ser.
He will Sir.
Enter Thomas.
Seb.
Time tries all then.
Lan.
Here he comes now himself Sir.
Seb.
To be short Thomas,
Because I feel a scruple in my conscience
Concerning thy demeanour, and a main one,
And therefore like a Father would be satisfi'd,
Get up to that window there, and presently
Like a most compleat Gentleman, come from Tripoly.
Tom.
Good Lord Sir, how are you misled: what fancies
(Fitter for idle boys, and drunkards, let me speak't,
And with a little wonder I beseech ou)
Choak up your noble judgement?
Seb.
You Rogue Launcelot,
You lying Rascal.
Lan.
Will ye spoil all again Sir.
Why, what a Devil do you mean?
Tom.
Away knave,
Ye keep a company of sawcy fellows,
Debosh'd, and daily drunkards, to devour ye,
Things, whose dull souls, tend to the Celler only,
Ye are ill advis'd Sir, to commit your credit.
Seb.
Sirrah, Sirrah.
Lan.
Let me never eat again Sir,
Nor feel the blessing of another blew-coat,
If this young Gentleman, sweet Master Thomas,
Be not as mad as heart can wish: your heart Sir,
If yesternights discourse: speak fellow Robin,
And if thou speakest less than truth.
Tom.
'Tis strange these varlets.
Ser.
By these ten bones Sir, if these eyes, and ears
Can hear and see.
Tom.
Extream strange, should thus boldly
Bud in your sight, unto your son.
Lan.
O deu guin
Can ye deny, ye beat a Constable
Last night?
Tom.
I touch Authoritie, ye Rascal?
I violate the Law?
Lan.
Good Master Thomas.
Ser.
Did you not take two wenches from the watch too
And put 'em into pudding lane?
Lan.
We mean not
Those civil things you did at M. Valentines,
The Fiddle, and the fa'las.
Tom.
O strange impudence!
I do beseech you Sir give no such licence
To knaves and drunkards, to abuse your son thus:
Be wise in time, and turn 'em off: we live Sir
In a State govern'd civilly, and soberly,
Where each mans actions should confirm the Law,
Not crack, and cancel it.
Seb.
Lancelot du Lake,
Get you upon adventures: cast your coat
And make your exit.
Lan.
Pur lamour de dieu.
Seb.
Pur me no purs: but pur at that door, out Sirrah,
I'le beat ye purblind else, out ye eight languages.
Lan.
My bloud upon your head.
[Exit Lan.
Tom.
Purge me 'em all Sir.
Seb.
And you too presently.
Tom.
Even as you please Sir.
Seb.
Bid my maid servant come, and bring my Daughter,
I will have one shall please me.
[Exit servant.
Tom.
'Tis most fit Sir.
Seb.
Bring me the mony there: here M. Thomas.
Enter two Servants with two bags.
I pray sit down, ye are no more my son now,
Good Gentleman be cover'd.
Tom.
At your pleasure.
Seb.
This mony I do give ye, because of whilom
You have been thought my son, and by my self too,
And some things done like me: ye are now another:
There is two hundred pound, a civil summe
For a young civil man: much land and Lordship
Will as I take it now, but prove temptation
To dread ye from your setled, and sweet carriage.
Tom.
You say right Sir.
Seb.
Nay I beseech ye cover.
Tom.
At your dispose: and I beseech ye too Sir,
For the word civil, and more setled course
It may but put to use, that on the interest
Like a poor Gentleman.
Seb.
It shall, to my use,
To mine again: do you see Sir: good fine Gentleman,
I give no brooding mony for a Scrivener,
Mine is for present traffick, and so I'le use it.
Tom.
So much for that then.
Enter Dorothy, and four Maids.
Seb.
For the main cause Monsieur,
I sent to treat with you about, behold it;
Behold that piece of story work, and view it.
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Not my estate alone, but my conditions,
From which you are revolted, therefore dead,
And I will break my back, but I will get one.
Tom.
Will you choose there Sir?
Seb.
There, among those Damsels,
In mine own tribe: I know their qualities
Which cannot fail to please me: for their beauties
A matter of a three farthings, makes all perfect,
A little beer, and beef broth: they are sound too.
Stand all a breast: now gentle M. Thomas
Before I choose, you having liv'd long with me,
And happily sometimes with some of these too,
Which fault I never frown'd upon; pray shew me
(For fear we confound our Genealogies)
Which have you laid aboord? speak your mind freely,
Have you had copulation with that Damsel?
Tom.
I have.
Seb.
Stand you aside then: how with her Sir?
Tom.
How, is not seemly here to say.
Dor.
Here's fine sport.
Seb.
Retire you too: speak forward M. Thomas.
Tom.
I will: and to the purpose; even with all Sir.
Seb.
With all? that's somewhat large.
Dor.
And yet you like it.
Was ever sin so glorious?
Seb.
With all Thomas?
Tom.
All surely Sir.
Seb.
A sign thou art mine own yet,
In again all: and to your several functions.
[Ex. Maids.
What say you to young Luce, my neighbours Daughter,
She was too young I take it, when you travel'd;
Some twelve years old?
Tom.
Her will was fifteen Sir.
Seb.
A pretty answer, to cut off long discourse,
For I have many yet to ask ye of,
Where I can choose, and nobly, hold up your finger
When ye are right: what say ye to Valeria
Whose husband lies a dying now? why two,
And in that form?
Tom.
Her husband is recover'd.
Seb.
A witty moral: have at ye once more Thomas,
The Sisters of St. Albons, all five; dat boy,
Dat's mine own boy.
Dor.
Now out upon thee Monster.
Tom.
Still hoping of your pardon.
Seb.
There needs none man:
A straw on pardon: prethee need no pardon:
I'le aske no more, nor think no more of marriage,
For o' my conscience I shall be thy Cuckold:
There's some good yet left in him: bear your self well,
You may recover me, there's twenty pound Sir,
I see some sparkles which may flame again,
You may eat with me when you please, you know me.
[Exit Seb.
Dor.
Why do you lye so damnably, so foolishly?
Tom.
Do'st thou long to have thy head broke? hold thy peace
And do as I would have thee, or by this hand
I'le kill thy Parrat, hang up thy small hand,
And drink away thy dowry to a penny.
Dor.
Was ever such a wilde Asse?
Tom.
Prethee be quiet.
Dor.
And do'st thou think men will not beat thee monstrously
For abusing their wives and children?
Tom.
And do'st thou think
Mens wives and children can be abus'd too much?
Dor.
I wonder at thee.
Tom.
Nay, thou shalt adjure me
Before I have done.
Dor.
How stand ye with your mistress?
Tom.
I shall stand nearer
E're I be twelve hours older: there's my business,
She is monstrous subtile Dol.
Dol.
The Devil I think
Cannot out-subtile thee.
Tom.
If he play fair play,
Come, you must help me presently.
Dor.
I discard ye.
Tom.
Thou shalt not sleep nor eat.
Dor.
I'le no hand with ye;
No bawd to your abuses.
Tom.
By this light Dol,
Nothing but in the way of honesty.
Dor.
Thou never knew'st that road: I hear your vigils.
Tom.
Sweet honey Dol, if I do not marry her,
Honestly marry her, if I mean not honourably,
Come, thou shalt help me, take heed how you vex me,
I'le help thee to a husband too, a fine Gentleman,
I know thou art mad, a tall young man, a brown man,
I swear he has his maidenhead, a rich man.
Dor.
You may come in to dinner, and I'le answer ye.
Tom.
Nay I'le go with thee Dol: four hundred a year wench.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Enter Michael, and Valentine.Mich.
Good Sir go back again, and take my counsel,
Sores are not cur'd by sorrows, nor time broke from us,
Pull'd back again by sighs.
Val.
What should I do friend?
Mich.
Do that that may redeem ye, go back quickly,
Sebastians Daughter can prevail much with her;
The Abbess is her Aunt too.
Val.
But my friend then
Whose love and loss is equal ty'd.
Mich.
Content ye,
That shall be my task if he be alive,
Or where my travel and my care may reach him,
I'le bring him back again.
Val.
Say he come back
To piece his poor friends life out? and my Mistress
Be vow'd for ever a recluse?
Mich.
So suddenly
She cannot, hast ye therefore instantly away Sir,
To put that Daughter by; first as to a Father,
Then as a friend she was committed to ye,
And all the care she now has: by which priviledge
She cannot do her this violence,
But you may break it, and the law allows ye.
Val.
O but I forc'd her to it.
Mich.
Leave disputing
Against your self, if you will needs be miserable
Spight of her goodness, and your friends perswasions.
Think on, and thrive thereafter.
Val.
I will home then.
And follow your advice, and good, good Michael.
Mich.
No more, I know your soul's divided, Valentine,
Cure but that part at home with speedy marriage
E're my return, for then those thoughts that vext her,
While there ran any stream for loose affections,
Will be stopt up, and chaste ey'd honour guide her.
Away, and hope the best still: I'le work for ye,
And pray too heartily, away, no more words.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Hylas, and Samuel.Hyl.
I care not for my broken head,
But that it should be his plot, and a wench too,
A lowzie, lazie wench prepar'd to do it.
Sam.
Thou hadst as good be quiet, for o my conscience
He'l put another on thee else.
Hyl.
I am resolv'd
To call him to account, was it not manifest
He meant a mischief to me, and laughed at me,
When he lay roaring out, his leg was broken,
And no such matter? had he broke his neck,
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Why should he chuse out me?
Sam.
Thou art ever ready
To thrust thy self into these she occasions,
And he as full of knavery to accept it.
Hyl.
Well, if I live I'll have a new trick for him.
Sam.
That will not be amiss, but to fight with him
Is to no purpose; besides, he's truly valiant,
And a most deadly hand; thou never fought'st yet,
Nor o' my Conscience hast no faith in fighting.
Hyl.
No, no, I will not fight.
Sam.
Besides the quarrel,
Which has a woman in't to make it scurvy,
Who would lye stinking in a Surgeons hands,
A month or two this weather? for believe it,
He never hurts under a quarters healing.
Hyl.
No, upon better thought, I will not fight, Sam,
But watch my time.
Sam.
To pay him with a project;
Watch him too, I would wish ye; prithee tell me,
Dost thou affect these women still?
Hyl.
Yes, 'faith, Sam,
I love 'em ev'n as well as e'r I did,
Nay, if my brains were beaten out, I must to 'em.
Sam.
Dost thou love any woman?
Hyl.
Any woman
Of what degree or calling.
Sam.
Of any age too?
Hyl.
Of any age, from fourscore to fourteen, Boy,
Of any fashion.
Sam.
And defect too?
Hyl.
Right,
For those I love to lead me to repentance;
A woman with no Nose, after my surquedry,
Shews like King Philip's Moral, Memento mori;
And she that has a wooden leg, demonstrates
Like Hypocrites, we halt before the gallows;
An old one with one tooth, seems to say to us,
Sweets meats have sowr sauce; she that's full of aches,
Crum not your Bread before you taste your Porridge,
And many morals we may find.
Sam.
'Tis well, Sir,
Ye make so worthy uses; but quid igitur,
What shall we now determine?
Hyl.
Let's consider
An hour or two how I may fit this fellow.
Sam.
Let's find him first, he'll quickly give occasion,
But take heed to your self, and say I warn'd ye;
He has a plaguey pate.
Hyl.
That at my danger.
[Exeunt.
[Musick.
SCENE V.
Enter Saylers singing to them, Michael, and Francis.Sayl.
Aboard, aboard, the wind stands fair.
Mich.
These call for Passengers, I'll stay and see
What men they take aboard.
Fran.
A Boat, a Boat, a Boat.
Sayl.
Away then.
Fran.
Whither are ye bound, Friends?
Sayl.
Down to the Straits.
Mich.
Ha! 'tis not much unlike him.
Fran.
May I have passage for my money?
Sayl.
And welcome too.
Mich.
'Tis he, I know 'tis he now.
Fran.
Then merrily aboard, and noble friend,
Heavens goodness keep thee ever, and all vertue
Dwell in thy bosome, Cellide, my last tears
I leave behind me thus, a sacrifice,
For I dare stay no longer to betray ye.
Mich.
Be not so quick, Sir; Saylers I here charge ye
By virtue of this Warrant, as you will answer it,
For both your Ship and Merchant I know perfectly,
Lay hold upon this fellow.
Fran.
Fellow?
Mich.
I, Sir.
Sayl.
No hand to Sword, Sir, we shall master ye,
Fetch out the manacles.
Fran.
I do obey ye,
But I beseech you, Sir, inform me truly
How Iam guilty.
Mich.
You have rob'd a Gentleman,
One that you are bound to for your life and being;
Money and horse unjustly ye took from him,
And something of more note, but—for y'are a Gentleman.
Fra.
It shall be so, and here I'll end all miseries,
Since friendship is so cruel, I confess it,
And which is more, a hundred of these robberies:
This Ring I stole too from him, and this Jewel,
The first and last of all my wealth; forgive me
My innocence and truth, for saying I stole 'em,
And may they prove of value but to recompence
The thousandth part of his love, and bread I have eaten;
'Pray see 'em render'd noble Sir, and so
I yield me to your power.
Mich.
Guard him to th'water,
I charge you, Saylers, there I will receive him,
And back convey him to a Justice.
Sayl.
Come, Sir,
Look to your neck, you are like to sail i'th' air now.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Maid.Thom.
Come quickly, quickly, paint me handsomely,
Take heed my nose be not in grain too;
Come Doll, Doll, disen me.
Dor.
If you should play now
Your Devils parts again.
Thom.
Yea and nay, Dorothy.
Dor.
If ye do any thing, but that ye have sworn to,
Which only is access.
Thom.
As I am a Gentleman;
Out with this hair, Doll, handsomely.
Dor.
You have your Breeches?
Thom.
I prithee away, thou know'st I am monstrous ticklish,
What, dost thou think I love to blast my Buttocks?
Dor.
I'll plague ye for this Roguery; for I know well
What ye intend, Sir.
Thom.
On with my muffler.
Dor.
Ye are a sweet Lady; come, let's see you courtesie;
What, broke i'th bum? hold up your head.
Thom.
Plague on't,
I shall bepiss my Breeches if I cowr thus,
Come, I am ready.
Maid.
At all points as like, Sir,
As if you were my Mistress.
Dor.
Who goes with ye?
Thom.
None but my fortune, and my self.
[Exit. Tho.
Dor.
'Bless ye:
Now run for thy life, and get before him,
Take the by-way, and tell my Cousin Mary
In what shape he intends to come to cozen her;
I'll follow at thy heels my self, fly Wench.
Maid.
I'll do it.
[Exit.
Enter Sebastian, and Thomas.
Dor.
My Father has met him; this goes excellent,
And I'll away in time; look to your Skin, Thomas.
[Exit.
Seb.
What, are you grown so corn fed, Goody Gillian,
You will not know your Father? what vagaries
Have you in hand? what out-leaps, durty heels,
That at these hours of night ye must be gadding,
And through the Orchard take your private passage?
What, is the breeze in your Breech? or has your Brother
Appointed you an hour of meditation.
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Or I'll so crab your Shoulders; ye demure Slut,
Ye civil dish of sliced Beef, get ye in.
Thom.
I wi' not, that I wi' not.
Seb.
Is't ev'n so, Dame?
Have at ye with a night Spell then.
Thom.
'Pray hold, Sir.
Seb.
St. George, St. George, our Ladies Knight,
He walks by day, so does he by night,
And when he had her found,
He her beat, and her bound,
Until to him her troth she plight,
She would not stir from him that night.
Thom.
Then have at ye with a Counter Spell,
From Elves, Hobs, and Fayries, that trouble our Dayries,
From Fire Drakes and Fiends, and such as the Devil sends,
Defend us good Heaven.
[Exit.
Enter Launcelot.
Laun.
Bless me master; look up, Sir, I beseech ye'
Up with your eyes to heaven.
Seb.
Up with your nose, Sir,
I do not bleed, 'twas a sound knock she gave me,
A plaguey mankind Girl, how my brains totters?
Well, go thy ways, thou hast got one thousand pound more
With this dog trick,
Mine own true spirit in her too.
Laun.
In her? alas Sir,
Alas poor Gentlewomen, she a hand so heavy,
To knock ye like a Calf down, or so brave a courage
To beat her father? if you could believe, Sir.
Seb.
Who would'st thou make me believe it was, the Devil?
Laun.
One that spits fire as fast as he sometimes, Sir,
And changes shapes as often; your Son Thomas;
Never wonder, if it be not he, straight hang me.
Seb.
He? if it be so,
I'll put thee in my Will, and there's an end on't.
Laun.
I saw his legs, h'as Boots on like a Player,
Under his wenches cloaths, 'tis he, 'tis Thomas
In his own Sisters Cloaths, Sir, and I can wast him.
Seb.
No more words then, we'll watch him, thou'lt not believe Launce,
How heartily glad I am.
Laun.
May ye be gladder,
But not this way, Sir.
Seb.
No more words, but watch him.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Enter Mary, Dorothy, and Maid.Mary.
When comes he?
Dor.
Presently.
Mary.
Then get you up, Doll,
Away, I'll straight come to you: is all ready?
Maid.
All.
Mary.
Let the light stand far enough.
Maid.
'Tis placed so.
Mary.
Stay you to entertain him to his chamber,
But keep close, Wench, he flyes at all.
Maid.
I warrant ye.
Mary.
You need no more instruction?
Maid.
I am perfect.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VIII.
Enter Valentine, and Thomas.Tho.
More stops yet? sure the fiend's my ghostly father,
Old Valentine; what wind's in his poop?
Val.
Lady,
You are met most happily; O gentle Doll,
You must now do me an especial favour.
Tho.
What is it, master Valentine? I am sorely troubled
With a salt rheum faln i' my gums.
Val.
I'll tell ye,
And let it move you equally; my blest Mistress,
Upon a slight occasion taking anger,
Took also (to undo me) your Aunts Nunnery,
From whence by my perswasion to redeem her,
Will be impossible: nor have I liberty
To come and visit her; my good, good Dorothy,
You are most powerful with her, and your Aunt too,
And have access at all hours liberally,
Speak now or never for me.
Thom.
In a Nunnery?
That course must not be suffered, Master Valentine,
Her Mother never knew it; rare sport for me;
Sport upon sport, by th'break of day I'll meet ye,
And fear not, Man, we'll have her out I warrant ye,
I cannot stay now.
Val.
You will not break?
Thom.
By no means.
Good night.
Val.
Good night kind Mistress Doll.
[Exit.
Thom.
This thrives well,
Every one takes me for my Sister, excellent;
This Nunnery's faln so pat too, to my figure,
Where there be handsome wenches, and they shall know it,
If once I creep in, ere they get me out again;
Stay, here's the house, and one of her Maids.
Enter Maid.
Maid.
Who's there?
O Mistress Dorothy! you are a stranger.
Thom.
Still Mistress Dorothy? this geer will cotton.
Maid.
Will you walk in, Forsooth?
Thom.
Where is your Mistress?
Maid.
Not very well; she's gone to bed, I am glad
You are come so fit to comfort her.
Thom.
Yes, I'll comfort her.
Maid.
'Pray make not much noise, for she is sure asleep,
You know your side, creep softly in, your company
Will warm her well.
Thom.
I warrant thee I'll warm her.
Maid.
Your Brother has been here, the strangest fellow.
Thom.
A very Rogue, a rank Rogue.
Maid.
I'll conduct ye
Even to her Chamber-door, and there commit ye.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IX.
Enter Michael, Francis, and Officers.Mich.
Come Sir, for this night I shall entertain ye,
And like a Gentleman, how e'r your fortune
Hath cast ye on the worst part.
Fran.
How you please, Sir,
I am resolv'd, nor can a joy or misery
Much move me now.
Mich.
I am angry with my self now
For putting this forc'd way upon his patience,
Yet any other course had been too slender:
Yet what to think I know not, for most liberally
He hath confess'd strange wrongs, which if they prove so,
How e'r the others long love may forget all,
Yet 'twas most sit he should come back, and this way.
Drink that; and now to my care leave your Prisoner,
I'll be his guard for this night.
Officers.
Good night to your Worship.
Mich.
Good night, my honest friends; come, Sir, I hope
There shall be no such cause of such a sadness
As you put on.
Fran.
'Faith, Sir, my rest is up,
And what I now pull shall no more afflict me
Than if I plaid at span-Counter, nor is my face
The map of any thing I seem to suffer,
Lighter affections seldom dwell in me, Sir.
Mich.
A constant Gentleman; would I had taken
A Feaver when I took this harsh way to disturb him.
Come, walk with me, Sir, ere to morrow night
I doubt not but to see all this blown over.
[Exeunt.
| Monsieur Thomas | |