 | The Night-Walker, or the Little Thief |  |
Actus Quintus.
Scæna Prima.
Enter Lurch, and Boy.Lur.
I must applaud thy diligence.
Boy.
It had been nothing
To have left him in the Porch; I call'd his servants,
With wonders they acknowledg'd him, I pretended
It was some spice, sure of the falling sickness,
And that, 'twas charity to bring him home;
They rubb'd and chaf'd him, ply'd him with Strong water,
Still he was senseless, clamors could not wake him;
I wish'd 'em then get him to bed, they did so,
And almost smother'd him with ruggs and pillows;
And 'cause they should have no cause to suspect me,
I watch'd them till he wak'd.
Lur.
'Twas excellent.
Boy.
When his time came to yawn, and stretch himself,
I bid 'em not be hasty to discover
How he was brought home; his eyes fully open
With trembling he began to call his servants,
And told 'em he had seen strange visions,
That should convert him from his heathen courses;
They wondred, and were silent, there he preach'd
How sweet the air of a contented conscience
Smelt in his nose now, ask'd 'em all forgiveness
For their hard pasture since they liv'd with him;
Bid 'em believe, and fetch out the cold Sur-loin:
Pierce the strong beer, and let the neighbors joy in't:
The conceal'd Muskadine should now lie open
To every mouth; that he would give to th'poor,
And mend their wages; that his doors should be
Open to every miserable sutor.
Lur.
What said his servants then?
Boy.
They durst not speak,
But blest themselves, and the strange means that had
Made him a Christian in this over-joy,
I took my leave, and bad 'em say their prayers,
And humor him, left he turn'd Jew agen.
Lur.
Enough, enough. Who's this?
Enter Toby.
'Tis one of my ringers; stand close, my Ladies Coachman.
To.
Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat;
Would I were at rack and manger among my horses;
We have divided the Sextons
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Turn'd Irish, and another has a blanket, and he must beg in't
The sheets serve another for a frock, and with the bed-cord,
He may pass for a Porter, nothing but the mat would fall
To my share, which with the help of a tune and a hassock
Out o'th' Church, may disguise me till I get home;
A pox o'bell-ringing by the ear, if any man take me
At it agen, let him pull mine to the Pillory: I could wish
I had lost mine ears, so I had my cloaths again:
The weather wo'not allow this fashion,
I do look for an Ague besides.
Lur.
How the raskal shakes?
To.
Here are company:
Buy a Mat for a Bed, buy a Mat,
A hassock for your feet, or a Piss clean and sweet;
Buy a Mat for a Bed, buy a Mat:
Ringing I renounce thee, I'll never come to church more.
Lur.
You with a Mat.
Tob.
I am call'd.
If any one should offer to buy my Mat, what a case were I in?
Oh that I were in my Oat-tub with a horse-loaf,
Something to hearten me:
I dare not hear 'em;
Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat.
Lur.
He's deaf.
Tob.
I am glad, I am: buy a mat for a bed.
Lur.
How the raskal sweats? What a pickle he's in?
Every street he goes through will be a new torment.
Tob.
If ever I meet at midnight more a jangling:
I am cold, and yet I drop; buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat.
Lur.
He has punishment enough.
Exit.
Enter Wildbrain.
Who's this, my tother youth? he is turn'd Bear.
Wild.
I am halfe afraid of my self: this poor shift
I got o'th' Sexton to convey me handsomly
To some harbor, the wench will hardly know me;
They'll take me for some Watchman o'th' parish;
I ha ne'r a penny left me, that's one comfort;
And ringing has begot a monstrous stomach,
And that's another mischief: I were best go home,
For every thing will scorn me in this habit.
Besides, I am so full of these young bell-ringers;
If I get in adoors, not the power o'th' countrey,
Nor all my Aunts curses shall disembogue me.
Lur.
Bid her come hither presently,—hum, 'tis he.
Exit. Serv.
Wild.
I am betraid to one that will eternally laugh at me,
Three of these rogues will jeer a horse to death.
Lur.
'Tis Mr. Wildbrain sure, and yet me thinks
His fashion's strangely alt'red, sirrah Watchman,
You rugamussin, turn you louzie Bears skin:
You with the Bed-rid Bill.
Wild.
H'as found me out;
There's no avoiding him, I had rather now
Be arraing'd at Newgate for a robbery,
Than answer to his Articles: your Will Sir,
I am in haste.
Lur.
Nay, then I will make bold wi'ye;
A Watchman, and asham'd to shew his countenance,
His face of authority? I have seen that physiognomy;
Were you never in prison for pilfering?
Wild.
How the rogue worries me.
Lur.
Why may not this
Be the villain robb'd my house last night,
And walks disguis'd in this malignant rugg,
Arm'd with a tun of Iron? I will have you
Before a Magistrate.
Wild.
What will become of me?
Lur.
What art thou? speak.
Wild.
I am the wandring Jew, and please your worship.
Lur.
By your leave Rabbi, I will shew you then
A Synagogue, iclip't Bridewel, where you,
Under correction, may rest your self:
You have brought a bill to guard you, there be dog-whips
To firk such rugg'd currs, whips without bells
Indeed.
Wild.
Bells.
Lur.
How he sweats?
Wild.
I must be known, as good at first; now jeer on,
But do not anger me too impudently,
The Rabbi will be mov'd then.
Lur.
How? Jack Wildbrain,
What time o'th' Moon man, ha? what strange bells
Hast in thy brains?
Wild.
No more bells,
No more bells, they ring backwards.
Lur.
Why, where's the wench, the blessing that befel thee?
The unexpected happiness? where's that Jack?
Where are thy golden days?
Wild.
It was his trick, as sure as I am louzie,
But how to be reveng'd—
Lur.
Fie, fie, Jack,
Marry a Watchmans widow in thy young daies,
With a revenue of old Iron and a Rugg?
Is this the Paragon, the dainty piece,
The delicate divine rogue?
Wild.
'Tis enough, I am undone,
Mark'd for a misery, and so leave prating;
Give me my Bill.
Lur.
You need not ask your Taylors,
Unless you had better Linings; it may be,
To avoid suspition, you are going thus
Disguis'd to your fair Mistriss.
Wild.
Mock no further,
Or as I live, I'll lay my Bill o' thy pate,
I'll take a Watchmans fury into my fingers,
To ha no judgement to distinguish persons,
And knock thee down.
Lur.
Come, I ha done, and now
Will speak some comfort to thee, I will lead thee
Now to my Mistriss hitherto conceal'd;
She shall take pity on thee too, she loves
A handsome man; thy misery invites me
To do thee good, I'll not be jealous, Jack;
Her beauty shall commend it self; but do not,
When I have brought you into grace, supplant me.
Wild.
Art thou in earnest? by this cold Iron—
Lur.
No oaths, I am not costive; here she comes.
Enter Mistriss.
Sweet-heart, I have brought a Gentleman,
A friend of mine to be acquainted with you,
He's other than he seems; why d'ye stare thus?
Mist.
Oh Sir, forgive me, I have done ye wrong.
Lur.
What's the matter? didst ever see her afore Jack?
Wild.
Prethee do what thou wot wi'me, if thou hast
A mind, hang me up quickly.
Lur.
Never despair, I'll give thee my share rather,
Take her, I hope she loves thee at first sight,
She has petticoats will patch thee up a suit;
I resign all, only I'll keep these trifles.
I took some pains for 'em, I take it Jack;
What think you pink of beauty, come let me
Counsel you both to marry, she has a trade,
If you have audacity to hook in Gamesters:
Let's ha a wedding, you will be wondrous rich;
For she is impudent, and thou art miserable;
'Twill be a rare match.
Mist.
As you are a man, forgive me, I'll redeem all.
Lur.
You wo'not to this geer of marriage then?
Wild.
No, no, I thank you Tom, I can watch for
A groat a night, and be every gentlemans fellow.
Exit Mi.
Lur.
Rise and be good, keep home and tend your business.
Wild.
Thou hast don't to purpose, give me thy hand Tom;
Shall we be friends? thou seest what state I am in,
I'll undertake this pennace to my Aunt,
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Where, if I be received again for currant,
And fortune smile once more.
Lur.
Nay, nay, I'm satisfied, so farewel honest louzie Jack.
Wild.
I cannot help it, some men meet with strange destinies.
If things go right thou mayst be hang'd, and I
May live to see't, and purchase thy apparel:
So farewel Tom. commend me to thy Polcat.
Exit.
Enter Lady, Nurse, Servant.
La.
Now that I have my counsel ready, and my cause ripe;
The Judges all inform'd of the abuses;
Now that he should be gone.
Nur.
No man knows whether,
And yet they talk he went forth with a Constable
That told him of strange business that would bring him
Money and Lands, and Heaven knows what; but they
Have search'd, and cannot find out such an Officer:
And as a secret, Madam, they told your man
Nicholas, whom you sent thither as a spie,
They had a shrewd suspition 'twas the devil
I'th' likeness of a Constable, that has tempted him:
By this time to strange things; there have been men
As rich as he, have met convenient rivers,
And so forth; many trees have born strange fruits:
D'ye think he has not hang'd himself?
La.
If he be hang'd, who has his goods?
Nur.
They are forfeited, they say.
La.
He has hang'd himself for certain then,
Only to cosin me of my Girls portion.
Nur.
Very likely.
La.
Or did not the Constable carry him to some prison?
Nu.
They thought on that too, and search'd every where.
La.
He may be close for treason, perhaps executed.
Nu.
Nay, they did look among the quarters too,
And mustered all the bridge-house for his night-cap.
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Madam, here is the gentleman agen.
La.
What Gentleman?
Ser.
He that lov'd my young Mistriss.
La.
Alas, 'tis Hartlove, 'twill but feed his melancholy.
To let him see Maria, since we dare not
Yet tell the world she lives; and certainly,
Did not the violence of his passion blind him,
He would see past her borrowed tongue and habit.
Nu.
Please you entertain him awhile, Madam,
I'll cast about for something with your daughter.
La.
Do what thou wot, pray Mr. Hartlove enter.
Exit Ser. and Nur. severally.
Enter Hartlove.
Ha.
Madam I come to ask your gentle pardon.
La.
Pardon, for what? you ne'r offended me.
Ha.
Yes, if ye be the mother of Maria.
La.
I was her mother, but that word is cancell'd,
And buried with her in that very minute
Her soul fled from her; we lost both our names
Of mother and of daughter.
Ha.
Alas, Madam,
If your relation did consist but in
Those naked terms, I had a title nearer,
Since love unites more than the tie of blood;
No matter for the empty voice of mother;
Your nature still is left, which in her absence
Must love Maria, and not see her ashes
And memory polluted.
La.
You amaze me, by whom?
Ha.
By me, I am the vile profaner.
La.
Why do you speak thus indiscreetly, Sir?
You ever honour'd her.
Har.
I did live,
But since she died, I ha been a villain to her.
La.
I do beseech you say not so; all this
Is but to make me know how much I sinn'd
In forcing her to marry.
Ha.
Do not mock me,
I charge you by the Virgin you have wept for;
For I have done an impious act against her,
A deed able to fright her from her sleep,
And through her marble, ought to be reveng'd;
A wickedness, that if I should be silent,
You as a witness must accuse me for't.
La.
Was I a witness?
Ha.
Yes, you knew I lov'd
Maria once; or grant, you did but think so,
By what I ha profest, or she has told you,
Was't not a fault unpardonable in me,
When I should drop my tears upon her grave,
Yes, and proof sufficient.
La.
To what?
Ha.
That I, forgetful of my fame and vows
To fair Maria, e'r the worm could pierce
Her tender shroud, had chang'd her for another;
Did you not blush to see me turn a rebel?
So soon to court a shadow, a strange thing,
Without a name? Did you not curse my levity,
Or think upon her death with the less sorrow
That she had scap'd a punishment more killing,
Oh how I shame to think on't.
La.
Sir, in my
Opinion, 'twas an argument of love
To your Maria, for whose sake you could
Affect one that but carried her small likeness.
Ha.
No more, you are too charitable, but
I know my guilt, and will from henceforth never
Change words with that strange maid, whose innocent face
Like your Maria's won so late upon me:
My passions are corrected, and I can
Look on her now, and woman-kind, without
Love in a thought; 'tis thus, I came to tell you,
If after this acknowledgement, you'll be
So kind to shew me in what silent-grave
You have dispos'd your daughter, I will ask
Forgiveness of all her dust, and never leave,
Till with a loud confession of my shame,
I wake her ghost, and that pronounce my pardon:
Will you deny this favour? then farewel,
I'll never see you more: ha!
Enter Nurse, Maria in her own apparel, after some shew of wonder, he goes towards her.
La.
Be not deluded, Sir, upon my life
This is the soul whom you but thought Maria
In my daughters habit; what did you mean Nurse?
I knew she would but cozen you, is she not like now?
One dew unto another is not nearer.
Nu.
She thinks she is a gentlewoman;
And that imagination has so taken her,
See scorns to speak, how handsomly she carries it,
As if she were a well bred thing, her body?
And I warrant you, what looks?
La.
Pray be not foolish.
Ha.
I disturb no body, speak but half a word
And I am satisfied, but what needs that?
I'll swear 'tis she.
La.
But do not, I beseech you,
For trust me, Sir, you know not what I know.
Ha.
Peace then,
And let me pray, she holds up her hands with me.
La.
This will betray all.
Ha.
Love ever honor'd,
And ever young, thou Soveraign of all hearts,
Of all our sorrows, the sweet ease.
She weeps now.
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Nur.
You will see anon,
'Twas her desire, expect the issue, Madam.
Ha.
My soul's so big, I cannot pray; 'tis she,
I will go nearer.
Enter Algripe, Lurcher, Boy.
Nur.
Here's Mr. Algripe, and other strangers, Madam.
Al.
Here good Lady,
Upon my knees I ask thy worships pardon;
Here's the whole summ I had with thy fair Daughter;
Would she were living, I might have her peace too,
And yield her up again to her old liberty:
I had a wife before, and could not marry;
My pennance shall be on that man that honor'd her,
To conferr some Land.
La.
This is incredible.
Al.
'Tis truth
Lu.
Do you know me, Sir?
Al.
Ha. the Gentleman I deceiv'd.
Lur.
My name is Lurcher.
Al.
'Shat have thy Mortgage.
Lu.
I ha that already, no matter for the Deed
If you release it.
Al.
I'll do't before thy witness;
But where's thy Sister? if she live I am happy, though
I conceal our contract, which was
Stolen from me with the Evidence of this Land.
The Boy goes to Maria, and gives her a paper; she wonders, and smiles upon Hartlove, he amaz'd, approaches her: afterward she shews it her mother, and then gives it to Hartlove.
Nur.
Your daughter smiles.
Lur.
I hope she lives, but where, I cannot tell, Sir.
Boy.
Even here, and please you, Sir.
Al.
How?
Boy.
Nay, 'tis she;
To work fair way, I preserved you brother,
That would have lost me willingly, and serv'd ye
Thus like a boy; I served you faithfully,
And cast your plots to preserve your credit;
Your soul ones I diverted to fair uses;
So far as you would hearken to my counsel;
That all the world may know how much you owe me.
Al.
Welcome entirely, welcome my dear Alathe,
And when I lose thee agen, blessing forsake me:
Nay, let me kiss thee in these cloaths.
Lur.
And I too,
And bless the time I had so wise a sister, wer't thou the little thief?
Boy.
I stole the contract, I must confess,
And kept it to my self, it most concern'd me.
Ha.
Cotracted? this destroys his after marriage.
Ma.
Dare you give this hand
To this young Gentleman? my heart goes with it.
Al.
Maria alive! how my heart's exalted, 'tis my duty;
Take her Frank Hartlove, take her; and all joyes
With her; besides some Lands to advance her Joynture:
La.
What I have is your own, and blessings crown ye.
Ha.
Give me room,
And fresh air to consider, Gentlemen,
My hopes are too high.
Ma.
Be more temperate,
Or I'll be Welsh again.
Al.
A day of wonder.
Lur.
Lady, your love, I ha kept my word; there was
A time, when my much suffering made me hate you,
And to that end I did my best to cross you:
And fearing you were dead, I stole your Coffin,
That you might never more usurp my Office:
Many more knacks I did, which at the Weddings
Shall be told of as harmless tales.
Shout within.
Enter Wildbrain.
Wild.
Hollow your throats apieces, I am at home;
If you can roar me out again—
La.
What thing is this?
Lur.
A continent of Fleas: room for the Pageant;
Make room afore there; your kinsman Madam.
La.
My kinsman? let me wonder!
Wild.
Do, and I'll wonder too to see this company
At peace one with another; 'tis not worth
Your admiration. I was never dead yet;
Y're merry Aunt, I see, and all your company:
If ye be not, I'll fool up, and provoke ye:
I will do any thing to get your love again:
I'll forswear Midnight, Taverns and Temptations;
Give good example to your Grooms, the Maids
Shall go to bed, and take their rest this year;
None shall appear with blisters in their bellies.
Lur.
And when you will fool again, you may go ring.
Wild.
Madam, have mercy.
La.
Your submission, Sir,
I gladly take; we will
Enquire the reason of this habit afterwards;
Now you are soundly sham'd, well, we restore you
Where's Toby?
Where's the Coachman?
Nur.
He's a bed, Madam.
And has an ague, he says.
Lur.
I'll be his Physitian.
La.
We must afoot then.
Lur.
E'er the Priest ha done
Toby shall wait upon you with his Coach,
And make your Flanders Mares dance back agen we'ye,
I warrant you Madam you are mortified,
Your sute shall be granted too.
Wild.
Make, make room afore thee.
La.
Home forward with glad hearts, home child.
Ma.
I wait you.
Ha.
On joyfully, the cure of all our grief,
Is owing to this pretty little Thief.
(Exeunt omnes
| The Night-Walker, or the Little Thief | |