 | The Pilgrim |  |
Scæna Secunda.
Enter a Porter, 4. Beggers, Pedro, and a Pilgrime.Por.
Stand off, and keep your Rancks: twenty foot further:
There louse your selves with reason, & discretion.
The Sun shines warm: the farther still the better,
Your beasts wil bolt anon, and then tis dangerous.
1. Beg.
Heaven blesse our Mistris.
Por.
Does the crack go that way?
'Twil be o'th o'ther side anon.
2.
Pray ye friend.
Por.
Your friend? and why your friend? why, goodman turncoat
What dost thou see within me, or without me,
Or what itch dost thou know upon me, tell me,
That I should be thy friend? what do I look like
Any of thy acquaintance hoong in Gibbets?
Hast thou any Friends, Kindred, or Alliance,
Or any higher ambition, then an almes-basket?
2. Beg.
I would be your worships friend.
Por.
So ye shall Sirra,
When I quarter the same louse with ye.
3.
Tis twelve o' clock.
Por.
Tis ever so with thee, when thou hast done scratching,
For that provokes thy stomach to ring noon;
O the infinite Seas of porridge thou hast swallowd!
And yet thou lookst as if they had bin but Glisters;
Thou feedst abundance; thou hadst need of sustenance;
Almes do you call it to relieve these Rascals?
Enter Alphonso, Curio, Seberto.
Nothing but a generall rot of sheep can satisfie 'em.
Al.
Did not I tel you, how she would undo me?
What Marts of Rogues, and Beggers?
Seb.
Tis charity
Methinks, you are bound to love her for—
Al.
Yes, I warrant ye,
If men could sale to heaven in porridge pots,
With masts of Beef, and Mutton, what a voyage should I make?
What are all these?
1.
Poore people, and 't like your worship.
2.
Wretched poor people.
3.
Very hungry people.
Al.
And very Lousy.
4.
Yes forsooth, so, so.
Por.
I'le undertake five hundred head about 'em,
And that's no needy Grasier.
Al.
What are you?
Pil.
Strangers that come to wonder at your charity,
Yet people poore enough to beg a blessing.
Cur.
Use them with favour, sir, their shews are reverent,
It seemes ye are holy Pilgrimes?
Pil.
Ye ghesse right sir,
And bound far off, to offer our devotions.
Al.
What make ye this way? we keep no Reliques here,
Nor holy Shrines.
Pil.
The holiest we ere heard of;
Ye keep a living monument of goodnesse,
A Daughter of that pious excellence,
The very Shrines of Saints sinck at her vertues,
And swear they cannot hold pace with her pieties,
We come to see this Lady: not with prophane eyes,
Nor wanton bloods, to do at upon her beauties,
But through our tedious wayes to beg her blessings.
49
This is a new way of begging, and a neat one,
And this cries money for reward: good store too;
These commendations beg not with bag, and bottle;
Well, well, the sainting of this woman (Gentlemen)
I know what it must come too: these women saints
Are plaguy heavy saints: they out-waigh a he-saint
Three thousand thick; I know: I feele.
Seb.
Ye are more afraid then hurt sir.
Al.
Have you your commendations ready too?
He bowes, and nods.
Cur.
A handsome well built person.
Al.
What Country-craver are you? nothing but motion?
A puppet-Pilgrim?
Pil.
Hee's a stranger sir;
This foure dayes I have traveld in his company,
But little of his busines, or his Language
As yet, I have understood.
Seb.
Both yong, and handsome,
Only the Sun has bin too saucy with him.
Al.
Would ye have money sir, or meat? what kind of blessing
Does your devotion looke for? Still more ducking?
Be there any saints, that understand by signes only?
More motion yet? this is the prettiest Pilgrim,
The pinck of pilgrims: ile be for ye sir;
Do ye discourse with signes? ye are hartly wel come:
A poor viaticum; very good gold sir;
But holy men affect a better treasure.
I kept it for your goodnes, but neerthelesse
Since it can prove but burthensome to your holines,
And you affect light prayer, fit for carriage,
I'le put this up againe.
Cur.
Ye are too unreverent.
Al.
Ye talk too broad; must I give way, and wealth too
To every toy, that carries a grave seeming?
Must my good angels wait on him? if the proud hilding
Would yeild but to my wil, and know her duty
I knew what I would suffer.
Seb.
Good sir, be patient,
The wrongs ye do these men, may light on you,
Too heavy too: and then you wil wish you had said lesse;
A comly and sweet usage becomes strangers.
Al.
We shall have half the Kingdom strangers shortly,
And this fond prodigality be sufferd;
But I must be an asse, see 'hem relieved, sirah;
If I were yong again, I would sooner get beare whelps,
And safer too, them any of these She-saints,
But I will break her,
Cur.
Such a face for certain.
Seb.
Me thinks I have seen it too: but we are cozend;
But fair befall thee Pilgrim, thou lookst lovely.
Exit.
Por.
Will ye troop up, ye porridge Regiment?
Enter Alinda Iuletta.
Captain Poors quarter wil ye move?
Alin.
Ye dull Knave,
Are not these wretches served yet?
Beg.
'Blesse my Mistris.
Alin.
Do you make sport sir, with their miseries?
Ye drousie rogue.
Por.
They are too high fed, Madam,
Their stomacks are a'sleep yet.
Alin.
Serve 'hem plentifully,
Or i'le serve you out next: even out o' dores, sirah;
And serve 'em quickly too.
Beg.
Heaven blesse the Lady.
Alin.
Blesse the good end I meane it for.
Jul.
I would I knew it:
If it be for any mans sake, i'le cry amen too,
Well Madam, ye have even as pretty a port of pentioners.
Alin.
Vain-glory would seek more, and handsomer.
Ex.
But I appeale to vertue what my end is;
Beggers
What men are these?
Jul.
It seems they are holy Pilgrims:
That handsome youth should suffer such a pennance,
Would I were even the saint they make their vowes too,
How easily I would grant.
Pil.
Heavens grace in-wheele ye:
And all good thoughts, and prayers dwell about ye,
Abundance be your friend; and holy charity
Be ever at your hand' to crown ye glorious.
Alin.
I thank ye sir; peace guid your travels too,
And what you wish for most, end all your trobles;
Remember me by this: and in your prayers
When your strong heart melts, mediate my poor fortunes.
Pil.
All my devotions wait upon your service.
Alin.
Are ye of this Country, sir?
Pil.
Yes, worthiest Lady,
But far off bred: my fortunes farther from me.
Alin.
Gentle, I dare believe.
Pil.
I have liv'd freer.
Alin.
I am no inquisitor, that were too curious:
What ever vow, or pennance puls ye on sir;
Conscience, or love, or stubborn disobedience,
The saint ye kneel too, hear, and ease your travels.
Pil.
Yours neer begin: and thus I seal my prayers.
Ex.
Alin.
How constantly this man looks? how he sighes?
Some great affliction hatches his devotions,
Right holy sir: how yong, and sweet he suffers?
Iul.
Would I might suffer with him.
Alin.
He turns from us:
Alas he weeps too: something presses him
He would reveale, but dare not; sir, be comforted,
Ye come for that: and take it: if it be want, sir,
To me yee appear so worthy of relieving,
I am your steward: speak, and take: he's dumb still:
Now as I have a faith this man so stirs me,
His modesty makes me affraid I have trespassed.
Iul.
Would he would stir me too: I like his shape well.
Alin.
May be he would speak alone: go off Iuletta,
Afflicted hearts fear their own motions,
Be not far off.
Iul.
Would I were neerer to him,
A yong smug handsome holines has no fellow.
Exit
Alin.
Why do you grieve? do you find your pennance sharp?
O rare the vowes ye have made, too mighty for ye?
Do's not the world allure ye to look back
And sorrow for the sweet time ye have lost?
Ye are yong, and fair; be not deluded, sir;
A manly made up heart contemnes these shadows,
And yours appeares no lesse: greifes for your fears,
For houres ill-spent, for wrongs don rash, and rudely,
For fowle contempts for faiths ill violated,
Become fears well: I dare not task your Goodnes:
And then a sorrow shewes in his true glory
VVhen the whole heart is excellently sorry.
I pray ye be comforted.
Ped.
I am, deer Lady,
And such a comfort ye have cast upon me,
That though I struggle with mine own calamities
Too mighty, and too many for my mannage,
And though, like angry waves, they curld upon me
Contending proudly who should first devour me,
Yet I would stem their danger.
Alin.
He speaks nobly:
What do ye want?
Ped.
All that can make me happy:
I want my selfe.
Alin.
Your self? who rob'd ye Pilgrim?
50
I want my selfe: indeed, you holy wounderers
Are said to seek much: but to seek your selves.
Ped.
I seek my self; and am but my selfs-shadow:
Have lost my self; and now am not so noble.
Alin.
I seek my self: something I yet remember
That bears that Motto; 'tis not he: he is yonger,
And far more tender: for that self-sake (Pilgrim)
Be who it will, take this.
Ped.
Your hand I dare take,
That be far from me, Lady, thus I kisse it,
And thus I blesse it too; be constant fair still:
Be good, and live to be a great example.
Exit.
Alin.
One word more (Pilgrim) has amazd me strangly,
Be constant faire still: tis the posie here:
And here without, Be good: he wept to see me
Enter Iuletta
Juletta:
Iul.
Madam.
Alin.
Take this Key, and fetch me
The Marygold Jewell that lies in my little Cabinet:
I think tis that: what eyes had I, to misse him?
O' me, what thoughts? he had no beard then, and
As I remember well, he was more ruddy.
En Iuletta
If this be he, he has a manly face yet
A goodly shape.
Iul.
Here Madam?
Alin.
Let me see it:
Tis so, too true: It must be he, or nothing,
He spak the words just as they stand engraved here:
I seek my self, and am but my selfes-shadow:
Alas poor man: didst thou not meet him, Iuletta?
The Pilgrim wench?
Iul.
He went by long ago, Madam.
Alin.
I forgot to give him something.
Iul.
'Twas ill done Lady:
For, o' my troth, he is the handsomest man
I saw this many a day: would he had all my wealth,
And me to boote: what ayles she to grow sullen?
Alin.
Come, I forgot: but I will recompence it.
Exeunt.
| The Pilgrim | |