University of Virginia Library

ACT. I.

Enter Alworth and Phantasm.
Alw.
Tis not far off, 'Ile aske this Gentleman.
Can you instruct me, sir, where the great
Lady Aurelia Mammon lives?

Pha.
Yes sir, I can.

Alw.
Pray do me the civility.

Pha.
Have you
Affaires with her, my friend in black?

Alw.
Have you
Relation to the Lady, Sir?

Pha.
She ownes me
A Gentleman-usher, with your pardon Sir,
Are not you inclining to a Scholar?

Alw.
I have spent time i'th Academy.

Pha.
The Academy?
Another beggar,
I did think so by your serious face, your habit
Had almost cosened me, and your hair, they are
Of the more Court edition, this is
A beggar of the upper forme of Learning,
Your business with my Lady,

Alw.
If you please
To prepare my access—

Pha.
'Tis to no purpose,
My Lady keeps no Library, no food
For booke-worms, I can assure you that.
Learning is dangerous in our Family,
She wo'not keep a Secretary for fear
Of the infection.

Alw.
Does she keep no foole?

Pha.
Yes, yes, and knaves;

Alw.
I thought so,
In which classe is your name, I beseech you?

Pha.
We enjoy equal priviledges, indeed the knave
Makes somewhat more on's office, but my Lady
Is not so nice, so we can bring Certificates
That we are sound, and free from the infection
Of book's, or can lay down our understandings,
And part with that unnecessary stuffing
I'th head, (you know my meaning) or renounce
The impious use of humane art and knowledge,
We are in a capacity of imployment;
Perhaps you may, on these terms be admitted
With your Philosophy, and things about you,
To keep her horse, de'e observe?

Alw.
A faire preferment!

Pha.
The fittest here for men of art, or if
You can keep counsell and negotiate handsomely
The amorous affair of flesh and blood;
(There you may exercise your parts of Rhetorique.)
How lies your learning that way? 'tis an office
Many grave persons have submitted to,
And found it a smooth path to court preferment,
But she is here, I'le leave you to your fortune.

Enter Aurelia Mammon.
Mam.
With me, your business?

Alw.
The Lady Honoria, Madam, by me humbly
Presents her service, and this paper to
Your Ladyship.

Mam.
The Lady Honour? 'tis
Some borrowing letter.

Alw.
This is not civill.

Mam.
I am so haunted with this mendicant
Nobility at every ebbe of fortune,
I must be troubled with Epistles from e'm.
What's here?—you are a Scholar.

Alw.
I have studied the artes,

Mam.
Your Lady writes as much, and would commend you
To my inployment, but I want no Chaplain.

Alw.
If you did, I cannot flatter, Madam.

Mam.
I have known wiser men converted by
Preferment.

Alw.
They were things that had no Soules,
Or use of that bright Entelecheia
Which separates them from beasts.

Mam.
I did expect
Hard words, and do commend the pure discretion
Of your most learned tribe, that think themselves
Brave fellowes, when they talk Greeke to a Lady;
Next to the Goth and Vandall, you shall carry
The bable from Mankind, pray tell your Lady,
Learning is out of fashion in my Family,

Alw.
Why should you be an Enemy to Arts?
The Lamps we wast, and watches, that consume
Our strength in noble studies, are ill paid
With this disdain, your smile would make us happy,
And with your golden beame strike new day
Through learnings universe.

Mam.
You but loose your time,
I know you are writing some prodigious volume
In praise of hunger, and immortall beggery.
This may in time advance you to a Pedant,
To whip the Town-top's, or gelded Vicaridge,
Some forty Markes per annum, and a Chamber-maid
Commended by your Patron.

Alw.
Y'are not worth
My anger, I should else—

Mam.
What my sweet Satyre?

Alw.
Present your Ladyship with a glasse, a true one,
Should turne you wild to see your owne deformity.

Mam.
I prethee raile, now for a storme—

Alw.
I wo'not loose my temper on such a trifle.

Exit.
Enter Fulbanke and Maslin.
Mam.
But here are two come timely, to disperse
All clowdy thoughts, my diligent daily waiters.

Ful.
Now Poetry be my speed! my noblest mistriss.

Mam.
What have you there, dear Mr. Fulbanke?

Ful.
Lines, that are prou'd to express your beauty? Madam.

Mam.
Bless me! turn'd Poet? I must tell you Servant,
Nothing in nature is more killing to me.

Ful.
Umh! I see my Lady Mammon is no wit.
Do'e think I made e'm? I have an Estate, Madam.

Mam.
I know you have fin'd for Alderman.

Ful.
They were a foolish Scholars o'the Town,
And I made my address to be confirm'd
In your opinion, they were wretched things,
And like the starv'd composer. The nine Muses
I have read, Madam, in a Learned Author,
Were but a knot of travailing, tawny gipsies
That liv'd by country canting, and old Songs,
And picking wormes out of fooles fingers, which
Was palmistry forsooth, and for Apollo
Whom they call'd Father, a poor silly Piper,
That kep't a thatch'd house upon Cuckolds Hill,
Not far from Helicon, or old Bride-well,
Where he sold switches, till his hut was burn'd
One night by a tinkers nose, that lay in straw there;
And he, for losse of this poor tenement,
Ran mad, from whence came all the mighty stir,
Of that, which we now call Poetick fury.

Mam.
'Tis very likely.

Mas.
Madam, be your leave,
I am a country-man, what should a man lye for?
I ken no Colledge learning, but I have
Been whip'd for latin in my dayes, that have I;
And have heard talke of the Philosophers stone;
Although I weare not velvet like his worship,
My heart's imbroyder'd with love and I
Defie the man that thinkes me insufficient
To do, whats fitting to be done between
You and I Madam, as the best what lack you
Finical-fartical-citt within the walls.

Ful.
Take heed how you provoke me.

Mas.
I'le provoke any man living, in the way of Love.

Enter Phantasme.
Mam.
Did all the Ladies sleep well?

Pha.
Yes and their Monkeys Madam, and have all
Their severall thanks, and services remembred
To your Ladiship—but Madam—

Exit Mam. and Phan
Ful.
She has left us.
I'le find a time to make you sensible—

Mas.
Me sensible?
I defy thee.

Ful.
Be not rampant, and thank Heaven
We are not arm'd.

Mas.
I scorne it.

Ful.
Dar'st thou meet me?

Mas.
Yes, the next day after Simon and Jude
I dare, when all your liveries go a feasting
By water with your gally foist and pot-guns,
And Canvas Whales to Westminster; I am not
Affear'd of your green Robin-hoods, that fright
With fiery club your pitifull Spectators
That take pains to be stifled, and adore
The Wolves and Camels of your company.
Next whom the children ride, who innocent things,
What with the Gyants, and the Squibs and eating
Too many sugar-plumms, take occasion to
Perfume their Pageants, which your Senators
Ride after in full scent.

Ful.
Thou horrid Lumpe
Of leather, course wooll, ignorance and husbandry,
Most pitifully compounded, thou that
Hast liv'd so long a dunghill, till the weeds
Had over-grown thee, and but ten yards off,
Cosen'd a horse that come to graze upon thee,
Thou miserable thing, that wert begot
By the whole Town, thou dar'st call no man Father,
Found in a hedge, but bred up in a stable,
Wherewith the horse thou did'st divide the bean's,
Dung like the beast, and wert as often curried.
Thus bred, at one and twenty thou wer't able
To write a legible Sheeps mark in tarre,
And read thy own capitall letter, like a gallows
In a Cows buttock.

Mas.
Suffer this?

Ful.
And more:
Fortune conspiring with thy own ill nature,
That durst be damn'd for Money, made thee rich,
And then the Countreys curses fatten'd thee,
Time, and thy sordid sins made thee at last
High-Constable, and now thou hast the impudence—

Mas.
Thou liest.

Maslin strikes Fulbank
Enter Phantasme with two Swords.
Pha.
Fear not me Gentlemen, I am your friend,
A friend to both your honours; here, be noble
You have a just cause, and a gallant Mistriss
Persons of your quality, to fight thus
For bloody noses, too't like Gentlemen,
And draw blood handsomely, he that gets the victory
Shall ha my Lady, and a pardon, though
It cost her half a Million, so I leave you.
Here will I stay, and observe both their valours.

Ful.
We are betraid.

Obscure
Mas.
I do not like these tooles.

Ful.
It is not for my credit to be kill'd,
If he have but the courage to advance,
I am no Merchant-taylor of this World,
And yet he lookes less rampant. Sirrah Maslin—

Mas.
I were best deliver up my cold iron, here.

Ful.
He does approach.

Mas.
And yet I wo'not. Fulbanke.
I am of thy opinion, we are both
Betraid; for my owne part, although I carry
No flesh that feares a sword; yet I do not
Affect to have devices put upon me.

Ful.
Tis something thou hast said; this may be a plot;
Some third man has projected by our ruines
To make his path smooth to my Lady Mammon;
And thus her Squire promotes it.

Mas.
A conspiracy!
I read it in the rascals face, too't quotha
Like Gentlemen? no, they sha'not laugh at me.
And my Lady had a mind to ha my throat cut,
She shall excuse me.

Ful.
To my wishes! but
I am not satisfied,
We can without some blood come off with honour,
You know th'affront was mine, and though I wod not
Have my revenge writ in too deep a crimson,
Yet something must be done, it will be publick,
And we may still be laugh'd at.

Mas.
Thou saist right,
Things cannot well be clear'd without some blood.
I have consider'd, and you shall be satisfied,

Ful.
So, I have made fine worke, the Bore will fight now.

Mas.
The credit of a wound will serve, thus then—

Ful.
Stay, I have a device will bring us both off.
Why may not we consent to give each other
A careless wound in the leg, or arme, and so
March off with honour?

Mas.
This knack was in my very thoughts, 'tis Ex'lent.

Ful.
But since I nam'd it first, 'tis my invention,
And I will strike the first blow,

Mas.
hang't, I pass not,
But gently then, a scratch ith arme, or hands
Enough, a small thing does it, gently, oh!
Thou hast cut of my Sword hand, this is fowle play,
I cannot hold my toole now.

Ful.
But stoope to reach it,
I'l cut thy head off, Ith field we must
Use all advantages. This weapon's mine too.
Farewell, and say I have used thee honourably.

Enter Phantasme.
Pha.
Ha. ha. ha. are you hurt Sir?
I see the Alderman has outwitted you.
Let me see, ha? a scratch, a very scratch;
Beare up, there may be wayes to your revenge,
Leave not your applications to my Lady.
He counsells this, that will assist you—but
I ever thought your habit much beneath
The person that should court so great a Lady.
It smells too much ot'h teame, I know y'are rich.
Aire, aire your gold, and make your body clinkant,
The rest commit to fate, and me, consult
Your Taylor.

Mas.
And my Chirurgeon; Sir I thanke you.

Pha.
You do not know, how I am contriving for you.

Mas.
That very word has cur'd me. I'le about it.

Exit.
Pha.
So, when ther's no other mischief to be done,
Let them go on, and love my Lady Mammon;
I'le assist one, in hope the t'other may
Go hang himself, and then it will be hard
To judge, which of the two has the better fortune.

Exit.
Enter Honoria between Alamode and Collonell.
Ala.
Bless me but with one smile, if you did know
With what devotion my Soul lookes on you,
How next to my Religion I have plac'd,
If not above it,) your diviner beauty—

Hon.
Your name is Alamode, a Courtier.

Aba.
'Tis sweetned by Honoria's breath,

Col.
I have
No stock of perfum'd words to court you, Madam,
Can you affect a man? A souldier?
When I have march'd up to a breach, which look'd
Like Hell with all his sulphurous flames about it;
My heart was fixt on honour, and I tooke
From gaping wounds the fleeting Soules about me
Into my owne, and fought with all their spirits;
The mangled bodies that I trod upon,
(For now the dead had buried all the Earth)
Gave me addition to Heaven, where in,
My strong imagination I saw
Thee from thy Chariot dropping down a Garland.

Hon.
You are a Colonel.

Col.
I profess a souldier Madam.

Hon.
It appears a bold one; art thou come Alworth.
Enter Alworth.
What said the Lady Mammon?

Ala.
One that has some relation to her person.
They call him Alworth, and I have observ'd
She lookes on him with favour above a Servant,
He has not the impudence to court his Lady

Hon.
So peremptory? what a strange monster wealth is?
I have but made a tryall of her friendship,
And had no meaning thou should'st leave me Alworth,
Depend upon my care, I know your parts;
And shall not be forgetfull of their merit.
But thou art come most seasonable to relieve me.

Ala.
I do not like their whispering.

Alw.
If you please, Madam, to absent your self,
Leave me to the excuse.

Hon.
Do so, dear Alworth.

Alw.
I am happy when you command me service.

Hon.
Be confident, I keep a silent register of all,
And shall reward them.

Alw,
Your own vertues guide you.

Exit Hon.
Col.
My Lady's gone.

Alw.
But has commanded me to let you know
Her resolution, she hath found you both
Ambitious of honour, both deserving,
And such an equall furniture of merit,
She has no art to reconcile her thoughts
Into one fortunate choice.

Ala.
'Tis very strange.

Alw.
The Gordian, which great Alexander could not
By subtilty dissolve, his sword untwisted;
I use her own words, Gentlemen, you may
Inferre, that you must either quit your courtship,
Or by your selves agree, who best deserves her,
And dare do most to merit such a mistriss.

Ala.
How, best deserves her?

Col.
And dare do most,

Alw.
I should interpret this to fight for Honour.
But you can best expound, and so I leave you.

Exit.
Col.
What sayes my perfum'd Alamode to this?
Will not a sword quite spoile your sattin Doublet,
And let in too much aire? your lips and language
Bath'd in the oyle of Gossamine will not carry her,
You have worne a sword thus long, to shew the hilt,
Now let the blade appear.

Ala.
It shall. I have yet
No ague, I can looke upon your buffe,
And punto beard, yet call for no strong-water,
I am no Tavern gull, that want protection,
Whom you with oathes do mortifie and sweare
Into the payment of your ten pound surfeits;
Upon whole credit you weare belt and feather,
Top and Top-gallant. Go to your Landab—
It'h new Brothell, she's a handsome leverett,
If she deny free quarter, tear her trinkets,
Make Cullice of the Matron, yet be friends
Before the Constable come in, and runne
Ot'h ticket for the dear disease.

Col.
Go on sir.
I will have patience three minutes longer,
To hear thy scurrile wit, and then correct it.

Ala.
Answer but one coole question, if Honoria
Should possibly descend to think well of thee,
And by some philtre should be brought to love thee.
What Jointure could we make, what's the per annum?

Col.
Have you done yet?

Ala.
'Tis not impossible,
You may have a Catalogue of Town's and Leaguers,
The Names of Bridges broken down, your nose
In time may keep them company in Landschape.
You will tell of Bulworkes, Barricado, Fort's.
Of outworkes, half moones, spurres, and parrapets
Of turnepikes, flankers, Cats and Counter-scarfs,
These things will hardly pawn with Jew or Christian:
But i'le come closer to you, you may have
In ready wounds some twenty, i'le admit,
And in diseases can assure her forty;
This wo'not do, she cannot eate a knapsack,
Or carry baggage, lye in your foule hutt,
And rost the pullen, for whose pretious theft,
You and the gibbet fear to be acquainted.
If you return into your wholsome Countrey,
Upon your honourable wooden legges,
The houses of Correction have but thinn
Accommodations, nor the Hospitalls.

Col.
It does appear by all this impudence,
And little wit pilfer'd, and put together,
You do not know me.

Ala.
Cry your mercie, Sir.
You are a great Field-officer, are past
These petty things, but if these times preserve
Their smooth complexion, it wo'not be
Ten hundred thousand pistols to a stiver,
But you may run this gantlope once agen.

Col.
You imagine you have stung me now, and that
I think my self concern'd in ths keen character?
I tell thee (wretched thing,) thou doest not reach
A Souldier, 'tis a name, three Heavens above
Thy Soule to understand, and 'twere a sin
Would lessen our own worth, to make thee know it.
You are a Courtier.

Ala.
Very good.

Col.
Nay rather.
A very impious one, you shall confess it,
Or I will cut your throat, this is no canting.

Ala.
Very fine.

Col.
Nay we know you are a fine Gentleman,
A Taffata-sattin-plush-embroydered-
Lac'd-scarlet-tissue-cloath-a-bodkin devill;
Pride is thy meat and drink, thy Library,
And thy Religion, thy new clothes only
Bring thee to Church, where thou dost muster, all
The fashions, and the trinkets, to the last
New button, upon which thy conscience sits,
And as the devill guides it, dost condemne,
Or save the people, that done, not the window's
Scape thee, for thou woot quarrell with the pictures,
And find fault with the Apostles, for not having
A better Taylor, these Sir are your vertues,
Your high, and holiday devotions.
What moral vices follow in the weeke,
Is best known to the devill, your close friend,
That keeps the Catalogue, yet one touch of them;
Thy lust has no bounds, when thy blood's a fire,
Thou leap'st all like a Satyre, without difference
Of kindred, or acquaintance; and were those
But summon'd, whom thy body hath infected,
They would stuffe an Hospital, and out-stinke the
Pest-house.

Ala.
And yet I walke upon these poor supporters.

Col.
How long the Chirurgeon knowes.

Ala.
These all my faults?

Col.
No, those are but thy Peccadillioes,
Thy malice is behind, thou woot not take a bribe
To undo a Nation, sell thy Countrey men
To as many persecutions, as the devill
Or Dutch men had invented at Amboyna;
With all this stock of villany, thou hast
An impudence—

Ala.
I'le heare no more,

Col.
A little i'le intreat you, all is but
A preface to your beating, which must follow,
Your tribe will beare it.

Ala.
Then have at you Sir.

They make a Pass.
Col.
Y'are very nimble Courtier.

Ala.
As you see.

Col.
Good Mounsieur Quicksilver,
You may be fixt.

Ala.
And your arrear's be paid.

Another Pass, Alamo down and disarm'd.
Col.
What think you now?

Ala.
It is your fortune Sir.

Col.
Y'are at my mercie, aske your life?

Ala.
I scorne it.

Col.
I'le kill you then.

Ala.
A boy may do as much
At this advantage.

Col.
Will you not aske your life?

Ala.
No 'tis not worth it.

Col.
And't be not worth your asking, 'tis not Worth
My taking at this posture, there's your weapon,
Rise, use it agen.

Ala.
It shall be thus to render it.
Though I was not so base to beg my life,
Yet since you have given it me, I scorne to imploy
Against one that was the master on't.

Col.
This is gallantry.

Ala.
You taught it first.

Col.
In spight of all the Widdowes in the World
We will be friends.

Ala.
I meet it Colonel.

Col.
And for the Lady Mammon—

Ala.
Wee'l take our chance.

Col.
A match, now let us to th'Tavern.

Exeunt.