 | The Night-Walker, or the Little Thief |  |
Actus Tertius.
Enter Lady, Wildbraine, Women, Toby.La.
Thou art the most unfortunate fellow;
Wil.
Why Aunt what have I done?
La.
The most malicious varlet,
Thy wicked head never at rest, but hammering,
And haching hellish things, and to no purpose,
So thou mayst have thy base will.
Wi.
Why do you rail thus?
Cannot a scurvy accident fall out,
But I must be at one end on't?
La.
Thou art at both ends.
Wi.
Cannot young sullen wenches play the fools
And marry, and dye, but I must be the agent?
All that I did (and if that be an injury,
Let the world judge it) was but to perswade her,
And (as I take it) I was bound to it too,
To make the reverend coxcombe her husband Cuckold:
What else could I advise her? was there harm i'this?
You are of years, and have run through experience,
Would you be content if you were young again,
To have a continual cough grow to your pillow?
A rottenness, that vaults are perfumes to;
Hang in your roof, and like a fog infect you?
Anointed hammes, to keep his hinges turning,
Reek ever in your nose, and twenty night caps,
With twenty several sweats?
To.
Some Jew, some Justice,
A thousand heathen smels to say truth Madam,
And would you mellow my young pretty Mistriss
In such a mis-ken?
La.
Sirra,
Where's the body of my Girl?
Wi.
I know not,
I am no Conjurer, you may look the body,
I was like to be stol'n away my self, the Spirit
Had like to ha surpris'd me in the shape of a woman,
Of a young woman, and you know those are dangerous.
To.
So had I Madam, simply though I stand here,
I had been ravish'd too: I had twenty Spirits,
In every corner of the house a Fiend met me.
La.
You lye like Raskals,
Was Mistriss Newlove such a spirit Sir?
To fright your worship;
Well, I discharge you Sir, y'are now at liberty,
Live where you please, and do what pranks you fancy,
You know your substance: though you are my Nephew,
I am no way bound Sir to protect your mischief;
So fare you well.
Wi.
Farewell good Aunt, I thank you,
Adiew honest Nick, the devil if he have power,
Will persecute your old bones, for this Marriage,
Farewell Mistress Win.
To.
And shall we part with dry lips?
Shall we that have been fellow devils together
Flinch for an old womans fart?
Wi.
'Tis a fine time a night too, but we must part Nick.
To.
Shall we never ring again? ne're toss the tenor,
And roul the changes into a Cup of Clarret?
You shall not want; what ere I lay my hands on,
As I am sure Automedon the Coachman,
Shall be distributed; bear up, I say, hang sorrow,
Give me that bird abroad that lives at pleasure,
Sam the Butler's true, the Cook a reverend Trojan,
The Faulkner shall sell his Hawks, and swear they were rotten,
There be some wandring spoons, that may be met with,
I'll pawn a Coach horse, peace, utter no sentences.
The harshness shall be us'd in our wars also;
Or shall I drive her (tell me but your will now,
Say but the word) over some rotten bridg,
Or by a Marl-pit side, she may slip in daintily,
Let me alone for my self.
Wi.
No, no, farewell Toby,
Farewell spiny Nicholas, no such thing,
There be ways i'th world, if you see me
A day or two hence, may be wee'l crack a quart yet,
And pull a bell, commend to the houshold;
Nay, cry not Toby, 'twill make thy head giddy.
To.
Sweet Master Wildbraine.
Wi.
No more Toby, go the times may alter—
But where's the coarse of my dead cosen,
(If she be dead) I hop'd 'thad but dissembled
That sits heavy here: Toby, honest Toby,
Lend me thy Lanthorn, I forgot 'twas dark,
I had need look to my ways now.
To.
Take a lodging with me to night in the Stable,
And ride away to morrow with one of the horses,
Next your heart, pray do.
Wi.
No, good night good neighbor Toby, I will wander,
I scorn to submit my self, ere I have rambled,
But whither, or with what, that's more material;
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And my Aunt wo'not see me hang'd for her own credit,
And farewel in a Halter costs me nothing.
Exit.
Enter Hartlove.
Fran.
The night, and all the evil the night covers,
The Goblins, Haggs, and the black spawn of darkness,
Cannot fright me: no death, I dare thy cruelty.
For I am weary both of life and light too;
Keep my wits heaven, they say spirits appear
To melancholy minds, and the graves open,
I would fain see the fair Maria's shadow,
But speak unto her spirit e'er I dyed,
But ask upon my knees a mercy from her;
I was a villain, but her wretched kinsman,
That set his plot, shall with his heart-blood satisfie
Her injur'd life and honor, what light's this?
Enter Wildbrain with a Lanthorn.
Wild.
It is but melancholy walking thus;
The Tavern doors are baracado'd too,
Where I might drink till morn in expectation;
I cannot meet the Watch neither; nothing in
The likeness of a Constable, whom I might,
In my distress, abuse, and so be carried,
For want of other lodging, to the Counter.
Fra.
'Tis his voice, Fate, I thank thee.
Wild:
Ha, who's that, and thou be'st a man speak?
Frank Hartlove, then I bear my destinies,
Thou art the man of all the world I wish'd for;
My Aunt has turn'd me out a doors, she has,
At this unchristian hour, and I do walk,
Methinks like Guido Faux with my dark Lanthorn,
Stealing to set the Town a fire; i'th' Countrey
I should be tane for William o'the Wispe,
or: Robin Good-fellow, and how dost Frank?
Ha.
The worse for you.
Wild.
Come, tha'rt a fool, art going to thy lodging?
I'll lie with thee to night, and tell thee stories,
How many devils we ha met withal;
Our house is haunted Frank, whole legions,
I saw fifty for my share.
Fr.
Didst not fright 'em?
Wild.
How; fright 'em? no, they frighted me sufficiently.
Fr.
Thou hadst wickedness enough to make them stare,
And be afraid o'thee, malicious devil;
And draw thy sword, for by Maria's soul;
I will not let thee scape to do more mischief.
Wild.
Thou art mad, what dost mean?
Fr.
To kill thee, nothing else will ease my anger,
The injury is fresh, I bleed withal,
Nor can that word express it, theres no peace in't,
Nor must it be forgiven, but in death;
Therefore call up thy valour, if thou'st any.
And summon up thy spirits to defend thee;
Thy heart must suffer for thy damn'd practises,
Against thy noble cosin, and my innocence.
Wild.
Hold, hear a word; did I do any thing
But for your good, that you might have her,
That in that desperate time I might redeem her,
Although with show of loss.
Fr.
Out ugly villain,
Fliing on her the most hated name of whore
To the worlds eye, and face it out in courtesie,
Bring him to see't, and make me drunk to attempt it.
Enter Maria.
Ma.
I hear some voices this way.
Fr.
No more, if you can pray, do it as you fight.
Ma.
What new frights oppose me? I have heard that tongue
Wild.
'Tis my fortune.
You could not take me in a better time, Sir,
I ha nothing to lose but the love I lent thee,
My life my sword protect.
Ma.
I know 'em both, but to prevent their ruines,
Must not discover—stay men most desperate;
The mischief you are forward to commit
Will keep me from my grave, and tie my spirit
To endless troubles else.
Wild.
Ha, 'tis her Ghost.
Fr.
Maria?
Ma.
Hear me both, each wound you make
Runs through my soul, and is a new death to me,
Each threatening danger will affright my rest;
Look on me Hartlove, and my kinsman view me;
Was I not late in my unhappy marriage,
Sufficient miserable? full of all misfortunes?
But you must add, with your most impious angers,
Unto my sleeping dust this insolence?
Would you teach time to speak eternally
Of my disgraces; make Records to keep 'em,
Keep them in brass? fight then, and kill my honor;
Fight deadly both, and let your bloody swords,
Through my reviv'd, and reeking infamy
(That never shall be purg'd) find your own ruines:
Hartlove, I lov'd thee once, and hop'd again
In a more blessed love to meet thy spirit,
If thou kill'st him, thou art a murtherer,
And murther shall never inherit heaven:
My time is come, my concealed grave expects me,
Farewel, and follow not, your feet are bloody,
And will pollute my peace: I hope they are melted,
This is my way sure
Exit.
Fr.
Stay blessed soul.
Wi.
Would she had come sooner, and ha sav'd some blood.
Fr.
Dost bleed?
Wild.
Yes certainly, I can both see and feel it.
Fr.
Now I well hope it is not dangerous;
Give me thy hand, as honor guides me,
I'll know thee again.
Wild.
I thank thee heartily;
I know not where to get a Surgeon;
This vision troubles me, sure she is living,
And I was foolish blind, I could not find it;
I bleed apace still, and my heart grows heavy,
If I go far I faint, I'll knock at this house,
They may be charitable, would 'twere perfect day.
Enter Mistriss.
Mist.
'Tis not he: What would you, Sir?
Wild.
I would crave a little rest Lady,
And for my hurts some Surgerie, I am a Gentleman
That fortune of a fight—
Mist.
A handsome Gentleman,
Alas he bleeds, a very handsome Gentleman,
Wild.
A sweet young wench, beshrew my heart a fair one;
Fortune has made me some recompence,
Mist.
Pray come in, the air is hurtful for you,
Pray let me lead you, I'll have a bed for you presently,
I'll be your Surgeon too, alas sweet Gentleman,
Wild.
I feel no hurts, the morning comes too fast now.
Mist.
Softly, I beseech you.
Exit.
Enter Lady and Toby.
Tob.
He is not up yet Madam, what meant you
To come forth so early?
La.
You blockhead;
Your eyes are sow'd up still, they cannot see
When it is day: oh my poor Maria;
Where be the women?
Tob.
They said they would follow us.
La.
He shall not laugh thus at my misery,
And kill my child, and steal away her body,
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Tob.
Let him be hang'd for't,
You have my voice.
La.
These women not come yet?
A Son-in-law, I'll keep a Conjurer,
But I'll find out his knavery.
Tob.
Do, and I'll help him.
And if he were here, this whip should conjure him,
Here's a Capias, and it catch hold on's breech,
I'de make him soon believe the Devil were there.
La.
An old Usurer.
Tob.
He married the money, that's all he lookt for;
For your daughter, let her sink or swim.
La.
I'll swim him;
This is his house, I wonder they stay thus,
That we might rail him out on's wits.
Tob.
They'll come,
Fear not Madam, and bring clappers with 'em,
Or some have lost their old wont, I have heard,
No disparagement to your Ladyship, some o' their tongues
Like Tom-a-Lincoln, three miles off.
La.
Oh fie,
How tedious are they?
Tob.
What and we lost no time,
You and I shall make a shift to begin with him,
And tune our Instruments till the Consort come
To make up the full noise, I'll knock.
Ju.
Who's that rapt so saucily?
Tob.
'Tis I, Toby, come down, or else we'll fetch you down,
Alas, this is but the Saints-bell, here's a Gentlewoman
Will ring you another peal, come down, I say.
Ju.
Some new fortifications, look to my doors,
Put double barrs, I will not have her enter,
Nor any of her Tribe, they come to terrifie me:
Keep out her tongue too, if you can.
La.
I hear you,
And I will send my tongue up to your worship,
The eccho of it shall flye o'er the street;
My Daughter that thou killedst with kindness (Jew)
That thou betrayedst to death, thou double Jew,
And after stol'st her body.
Tob.
Jew's too good for him,
Ju.
I defie you both;
Thy daughter plaid the villain and betraid me.
Betrai'd my honor.
La.
Honor, Rascal,
And let that bear an action, I'll try it with thee,
Honor?
Tob.
Oh Reprobate!
La.
Thou musty Justice,
Buy an honourable halter and hang thy self.
Tob.
A worshipful ropes end is too good for him.
La.
Get honor that way, thou wot die a dog else.
Tob.
Come and be whipt first.
La.
Where is her Portion.
Enter Nurse and Women.
Ju.
Where I'll keep it safely.
Nur.
Traitor, thou shalt not keep it.
Ju.
More of the kennel? put more bolts to th'doors there,
And arm your selves, hell is broke loose upon us.
Tob.
I am glad y'are come, we'll blow the house down.
La.
Oh Nurse, I have such cause—
Wo.
Villain, viper, although you had no cause, we are bound
To help.
Nur.
Yes, and believe, we come not here to examine,
And if you please we'll fire the house
Ju.
Call the Constable.
Tob.
A charitable motion, fire is comfortable.
La.
No, no, we'll only let him know our minds,
We will commit no outrage, he's a Lawyer,
Ju.
Give me my Musket.
La.
Where's my daughters body,
That I may bury it?
Wo.
Speak, or we'll bury thee,
Nur.
Alive, we'll bury thee, speak old Iniquity.
Tob.
Bury him alive by all means for a testimony.
Ju.
Their voices make my house reel, oh for Officers,
I am in a dream, thy daughters spirit
Wa'ks a nights, and troubles all the neighhors:
Go hire a Conjurer, I'll say no more.
La.
The Law shall say more,
Wo., Nur.
We are witnesses,
And if thou be'st not hang'd—
Enter Lurcher and Boy.
Lur.
Buy a Book of good manners,
A short Book of good manners.
Boy.
Buy a ballad, a ballad of the maid was got with child.
Tob.
That might ha been my case last night,
I'll ha't, what e'er it cost me.
Boy.
A ballad of the Witches hang'd at Ludlow.
Tob.
I will have that too;
There was an Aunt of mine, I think amongst 'em,
I would be glad to hear her Testament.
Lur.
A new Book of Women,
Ju.
The thunder's laid, how they stare at him
Lur.
A new Book of Fools, a strange Book,
Very strange fools.
Ju.
I'll owe thee a good turn, whate'er thou art.
Lur.
A Book of Walking Spirits.
Ju.
That I like not.
Tob.
Nor I, they walk'd me the Fools Morris.
Lur.
A Book of Wicked Women.
Ju.
That's well thought on.
Dur.
Of rude, malicious Women, of proud Women,
Of scolding Women, we shall ne'er get in.
Boy.
A ballad of wrong'd Maids.
La.
I'll buy that.
Lur.
A little, very little Book,
Of good and godly Women, a very little one,
So little you may put it in a Nutshel.
Tob.
With a small print that no body can read it.
Nur.
Peace sirrah, or I'll tear your Books.
Ju.
Open the door and let him in, I love him.
Lur.
A Book of evil Magistrates.
La.
I marry d'ye hear that Justice.
Lur.
And their eviller wives,
That wear their Places in their Petticoats.
Ju.
D'ye hear that Lady.
Boy.
A Book new printed against Playing,
Dancing, Masking, May-poles; a zealous Brothers Book,
And full of Fables.
Lur.
Another Book of Women, of mad women,
Women that were born in March.
Exit
La.
Are you got in?
We would ha pull'd your knaves hide else; this fellow
Was sent to abuse us, but we shall have time
To talk more with this Justice.
Ju.
Farewel Madam, as you like this, come visit me agen,
You and your treble strings, now scold your hearts out—
Wo.
Shall he carry it thus away?
Nur.
Go to the Judge, and what you'll have us swear-
La.
I thank ye heartily,
I'll keep that for the last, I will go home,
And leave him to his Conscience for a while,
If it sleep long, I'll wake it with a vengeance.
Exit.
Enter Servant.
1.
What book has he given thee?
2.
A dainty book, a book of the great Navy,
Of fifteen hundred ships of Cannon-proof,
Built upon Whales to keep their keels from sinking:
And Dragons in 'em, that spit fire ten mile;
And Elephants that carry goodly Castles.
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Dost thou believe it?
2.
Shall we not believe Books in print?
1.
I have John Taylors book of Hempseed too,
Which for two lines I hapned on by chance,
I reverence.
2.
I prethee what are they?
1.
They are so pat upon the time, as if
He studied to answer the late Histriomastix,
Talking of change and transformations,
That wittily, and learnedly he bangs him,
So many a Puritans ruff, though starch'd in print,
Be turn'd to Paper, and a Play written't;
And confute Horace with a Water Poet:
A Play in the Puritans ruff? I'll buy his Works for't,
What hast there a Ballad too?
2.
This is a piece of Poetry indeed;
He sings; Justice cries within.
What noise is that?
1.
Some cry i th' streets; prethee sing on.
Sing again.
2.
Agen, dost not hear? 'tis i'th' house certainly?
1.
'Tis a strange noise? and has a tang o'th' Justice.
2.
Let's see?
Exit.
Enter the Servants bringing in their Master bound and gagg'd.
1.
Untie his feet, pull out his gagg, he will choak else,
What desperate rogues were these.
2.
Give him fresh air.
Ju.
I will never study books more:
I am undone, these villains have undone me.
Rifled my Desk, they have undone me learnedly:
A fire take all their Books, I'll burn my Study:
Where were you rascals when the villains bound me,
You could not hear?
1.
He gave us Books, Sir, dainty Books to busie us;
And we were reading, in that which was the Brew-house;
A great way off, we were singing Ballads too;
And could not hear
Ju.
This was a precious thief,
A subtle trick to keep my servants safe.
2.
What ha you lost Sir?
Ju.
They ransack'd all before my face, and threatned
To kill me if I cough'd, they have a chain,
My rings, my box of casting gold, my purse too.
They robb'd me miserably; but that which most grieves me,
They took away some Writings; 'twas a rogue
That knew me, and set on by the old Lady,
I will indite her for't.
1.
Shall we pursue 'em?
Ju.
Run, run, cursed raskals,
I am out of my wits, let not a creature in,
No not with necessaries.
2.
We shall be starv'd.
Ju.
I'll buy my meat at window as they pass by;
I wo'nt trust my Scrivenor, he has books too;
And bread I'll ha flung up; I charge ye all
Burn all the books i'th' house.
1.
Your little Prayer Book?
Ju.
I'll never pray agen, I'll have my doors
Made up, nothing but walls, and thick ones too;
No sound shall tempt me agen, remember I
Have forswore books,
2.
If you should be call'd to take your oath?
Ju.
I will forswear all oaths, rather than see
A thing but in the likeness of a book:
And I were condemn'd, I'll rather chuse to hang,
Than read agen; come in, and search all places,
They may be about the house, were the doors lock'd?
1.
But the keys in 'em, and if they be gone,
They could not want wit to lock us in, Sir,
Ju.
Never was a man so miserably undone,
I would lose a limb, to see their rogueships totter.
Exeunt.
Enter Lady and Nurse.
La.
Thy brothers daughter, saist, and born in Wales?
Nur.
I have long time desired to see her, and I hope
Your Ladyship will not be offended.
La.
No, no.
Nur.
I should be happy, if she might be serviceable
To you Madam.
La.
Beshrew me, but at first, she took me much,
Is she not like Maria? setting aside
Her language very like her, and I love her
The better for't, I prethee call her hither,
She speaks seat English.
Nur.
Why Guennith, Guennith, du hummab Guennith,
She is course Madam, after her countrey guise,
And were she in fine cloths—
La.
I'll have her handsome:
Enter Maria.
What part of Wales were you born in?
Ma.
In Abebundis Madam.
Nur.
She speaks that name in Welsh, which we call Brecknock.
La.
What can you do?
Ma.
Her was toe many tings in Walls, know not the fashion
on in Londons? her was milk the Cows, make seeze and butters,
and spin very well the Welsh freeze, her was Cooke to
te Mountain Cots, and sing very fine prittish tunes, was mage
good ales and breds, and her know to dance on Sundays,
marge you now Madams.
La.
A pretty innocence, I do like her infinitely, Nurse,
And if I live—
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Here is Mr. Hartlove, Madam, come to see you.
La.
Alas poor Gentleman, prethee admit him.
Enter Hartlove and Gent.
Ha.
Madam, I am come to take my last leave.
La,
How Sir?
Ha.
Of all my home affections, and my friends,
For the interest you had once in Maria,
I would acquaint you when I leave the kingdom.
La.
Would there were any thing in my poor power
That might divert your Will, and make you happy;
I am sure I have wrong'd her too, but let your pardon
Assure me you are charitable; she's dead
Which makes us both sad: What do you look on?
The likest face—
Ma.
Plesse us awle, why does that sentilman make such
unders and mazements at her, I know her not.
Ha.
Be not offended maid.
La.
How the wench blushes, she represents Marias loss to him.
Ma.
Will the sentilman hurt her? pray you be her defences,
was have mad phisnomies, is her troubled with Lunaticks
in her prain, pans, bless us awle.
Ha.
Where had you this face?
Ma.
Her faces be our none, I warrant her.
Ha.
I wonot hurt you, all the lineaments
That built Maria up; all those springing beauties
Dwell on this thing, change but her tongue I know her:
Let me see your hand.
Ma.
Du Guin. was never thieves, and robberies; here is
no sindge in her hands warrant her.
Ha.
Trust me, the self-same white,
And softness, prethee speak our English Dialect.
Ma.
Ha leggs? what does her speage hard ards to her
to make poor Guennith ridicles, was no mannerly sentilman
to abuse her.
Ha.
By the love,
That everlasting love I bear Maria—
Ma.
Maria, her name was Guenith, and good names, was poor
else, oman maid, her have no fine kanags to madge her tricksie
220
honest ense too, marg you dat now, her can keep her little
legs close enough, warrant her.
La.
How prettily this anger shews.
1.
She gabbles innocently.
Ha.
Madam farewel, and all good fortune dwell we'e,
With me my own affections; farewel Maid,
Fair gentle Maid.
2.
She sighs.
Ma.
Du cat a whee.
Ha.
I cannot goe, there's somewhat calls me back.
Ma.
Poor Franke,
How gladly would I entertain thy love,
And meet thy worthy flame, but shame forbids, me:
If please her Ladyship dwell here with Guenneth, and learn to
spinn and card ull, to mage flannells, and linseyes ulseis, sall
tawgco'd urds to her Ladyships urships for her.
The tears of true affection, woe is me,
Oh cursed love that glories in maids miseries,
And true mens broken hearts.
La.
Alas I pity him, the wench is rude, and knows you not, forgive her.
Ma.
Wype your nyes yray you, though was porn in Walls
'mong craggy rocks, and mountains, yet heart is soft, look you
hur can weep too, when hur see men mage prinie tears and
lamentations.
Ha.
How hard she holds me?
Just as Maria did, weeps the same drops,
Now as I have a living soul, her sight too;
What shall I think, is not your name Maria,
If it be not, delude me with so much charity
To say it is.
Ma.
Upon her life, you was mighty deal in love with some
podies, your pale seekes and hollow nyes, and pantings upon
her posom, know very well, because look you, her think her
honest sentilman, you sall call her Maria.
Ha.
Good Madam, think not ill I am thus saucy,
La.
Oh no Sir, be you not angry with the wench.
Ha.
I am most pleas'd.
1.
Lets interrupt him, he'll be mad outright else.
2.
Observe a little more.
Ha.
Would I could in your language beg a kiss,
Ma.
If her have necessities of a kiss, look you, dere is one
in sarities.
Ha.
Let me suffer death,
If in my apprehension two twinn'd cherries
Be more a kinn, than her lips to Maria's:
And if this harsh illusion would but leave her,
She were the same, good Madam, shall I have
Your consent now?
La.
To what?
Ha.
To give this Virgin to me.
La.
She's not mine, this is her kinswoman,
And has more power to dispose; alas, I pity him.
Pray gentleman prevail with him to goe;
More that I wish his comfort than his absence.
Ha.
You have been always kind to me, will you
Deny me your fair Cosin?
Nu.
'Twere fit you first obtain'd her own consent.
Ha.
She is no friend that wishes my departure,
I doe not trouble you.
1.
'Tis not Maria.
Ha.
Her shadow is enough, I'll dwell with that,
Pursue your own ways, shall we live together?
Ma.
If her will come to morrow and tauge to her, her
will tell her more of her meanings, and then if her be melancholy,
her will sing her a Welch Song too, to make her
merries, but Guenith was very honest; her was never love
but one sentleman, and he was bear her great teal of good-ills
too, was marry one day S. Davy, her give her five pair
of white gloves, if her will dance at her weddings.
Ha.
All I am worth,
And all my hopes this strange voice would forsake her,
For then she snud be—prethee stay a little,
Hark in thine ear, dissemble not, but tell me,
And save my life; I know you are Maria:
Speak but as I doe, ten words to confirm me;
You have an English soul, do not disguise it
From me with these strange accents—She pinch'd hard
Again, and sigh'd.
La.
What ails the Wench?
Exit.
Nur.
Why, Guenith.
Ha.
She's gone too.
2.
Come leave this dream.
Ha.
A dream? I think so;
But 'twas a pleasing one, now I'll obey,
And forget all these wonders, lead the way.
Exeunt.
| The Night-Walker, or the Little Thief | |