 | The Damoiselle, or The New Ordinary |  |
Scene II.
Bumpsey, Magdalen, Jane, all in brave Cloaths.Bum.
Nay, nay, I know he is flown out, and I
Am prettily provided for like flight:
And if I do not pitch as high, and souse
As deep, as he, while there is Game to fly at—
Five hundred Peices he took out you say?
Ja.
And sayd he would venter't at the Ordinary.
Bum.
Thats hee, thats he! Why this is excellent.
Mag.
This was your folly Bump. He was content
To have walk'd moneylesse you saw, but you
Would force him. At a word you did la' Bump.
Bum.
I force him, ha?
Mag.
I, at a word, you put it in his head,
And put the Sword into the Madmans hand,
As one would say.
Bum.
Good Mrs. At-a-word.
Let not your fine French Frippery, which I bought,
Turn'd oth' Taylors hands (as one would say)
Huffle you up to Soveraignty: Nor your Coach,
Which I have but bespoak, whirle you away,
Before tis finish'd) from obedience.
Good lack fine Gentleman, that weares the Purchase
Of a Pawn'd forfeiture. Must I not speak trow?
Bum.
Excellent Magdalen!
Mag.
Sir, J will speak; and be allow'd to speak.
Bum.
And speak allow'd too; will you Magdalen?
Mag.
J, at a word; Since you have put me to't,
J will uphold the Fashion; Learn, and practise
Behaviour and carriage above my' parrell.
J at a word, J will la, that J will.
Bum.
This is most excellent! My old Beast is
Infected with the Fashions; Fashion-sick!
Pray Ma-dame take your course, uphold your Fashion:
And learn and practise Carriage to your Cloaths:
I will maintain my humour, though all split by't.—
Enter Servant.
Ser.
Mr. Uermine desires to speak with you.
Bum.
Ifaith I will Ma-dame.—
[Exit with Servant.]
Ja.
My Husband, Mother,
Reports of a rare Creature come to Towne,
Of a French breed; a Damoysell, that professeth
The teaching of Court-carriage and behaviour:
The rar'st he saies—
Mag.
Can she teach the elder sort?
Ja.
All ages from six yeares to sixty six.
Unlesse they be indocible he saies.
Mag.
Indocible! What's that?
Ja.
Stiff i'the hammes, I think.
Mag.
Nay, then wee'll to her.
I can yet bowe my Haunches; come and go
With them, as nimbly as the barren Doe.
My Gimboles don't complain for want of Oyle yet.
Wee'll have this Madame; and we will be Madames
A month the teaching. In a Month we may,
Practising but one houre in a day,
Be Madames, may we not?
Ja.
Yes, if we give our mindes to't; and but steale
Fit times to practise.
Mag.
Wee'll find Lecture times:
Or bausk St. Antlins for't the while. But mum.
Enter Bumpsey, Vermine.
Bum.
Do you wonder at my bravery? Look you here:
This is my Wife; and this my Daughter, sir.
You have lost yours, you say: Perhaps for want
Of Husty-lusties, and of Gorgets gay.
Ha! ist not so?
Uer.
The World's turn'd prodigall.
You do not well to mock me, when I come
For comfort and advise.
Bum.
Shall I be plain w'ye;
My best advise is, since your Daughters gone,
To turn your Son after her. He lies not in
For much above a hundred pound. Pay it,
And let him take his course: If he be not
Got loose already. Then (observe my Counsell)
Spend you the rest of your Estate your selfe;
And save your Heires the sin. It is the course
I have in hand, and mean to follow it.
You like it not (it seems) but thus it is,
VVhen men advise for nothing. Had your Lawyer
Now for his fee, given Counsell, might have damn'd you:
You would have thought it worth your Gold, and follow'd it.
Venter five hundred or a thousand Peeces,
To begin a new VVorld with.
Ver.
Mrs. Bumpsey, I take it you are she.
Mag.
An old Ape has an old eye.
He knowes me through all my cuts and slashes.
Uer.
How long I pray, has my good friend your Husband
Been thus distracted?
Mag.
But when I am perfect
In the quaint Courtly carriages, that belong
Unto this habit; in which, I confesse,
I am yet but raw; how will you know me then?
Uer.
She is as mad as he.
Bum.
How Lady-like she talkes!
Mag.
Or, now my black Bag's on, I hold a penny
You do not know me. Bogh-who am I now?
Uer.
Most unrecoverably mad! young Gentlewoman:
Nay, I intreat your favour for an answer?
As you can pity a wrong'd mans distresse.
Give me what light you can of my lost Daughter.
You have been inward alwaies, and partook
The nearest of her Counsels. Tell me fairely
I do beseech you in this gentle way.
Though I professe I have a strong presumption
Against your Husband, and his young Associates
I met to day; and bore their mocks and taunts:
On which I have good ground for a strickt course
To force 'em to examination.
Yet I intreat you see.
Ja.
The VVorld is turn'd
Quite upside downe: Else I should wonder
How you could make requests, that have got all
You have (too much) by Rapine and Oppression.
Uer.
Do you upbraid me?
What's the matter Jane?
Ja.
The Fox here learns to sing.
Mag.
Ile fox him out oth' hole if he sing here.
Will no Prey serve you but new married wives, Fox?
Ver.
Why do you abuse me thus?
Ja.
I heard you, sir, with too much patience,
Abuse my Husband with your foule Suspition.
Who is as cleer, I know, from wronging you,
As your own Son.
Ver.
Your mocks are monstrous.
Were not he fast enough, I would resolve
No other friend had robb'd me.
Mag.
Is your son a friend? At a word, hee's like you.
Enter Sir Amphilus, Servant.
Amp.
J pray, if my man aske for mee, send him to
me, by your Masters leave. By your leave Sir, I made
bold to follow a Father-in-Law of mine that should
have been, into your house here, with much ado to find
it. Any good newes Sir yet? Ha' you heard of her?
J cry these Ladies mercy; though you may take me for
a Clowne, I must not forget I am a Knight, and give
you the curtesie of my lips—
Bum.
In the name of Peasantry, what Knight art thou,
If not the Knight of the Plough-share?
Mag.
A fine spoken, and a well-bred man, at a
word: He call'd us Ladies. To see what Apparell can
do! How long might I have trudg'd about in my old
coats before J had been a Lady? And then hee would
do us the curtesie to kisse us: Sure, sure, as curtesie
makes a Knight, so cloaths makes a Lady.
Amp.
It seems she's lost then. All ill go with her.
What old youth can this be?
Amp.
Your warrant, perhaps, may find her though.
And J tell you what.
Bum.
Do you think she would drown her selfe?
Amp.
Who knowes what toy might take her?
Is she not a woman, as other flesh and
blood is? I had another occasion to one
that belongs to the Ponds. I tell you as a
Friend, I had not sent els: Come Father-in-Law
that should have been; hang sorrow.
You have had but one Losse to day.
I have had two. Ile gi't you in Rhime.
T' one of 'em dyed, and t' other ran away.
Ja.
You are acquainted among the Poets it seems,
sir?
Amp.
Truly but one that's a Gamster amongst us at the
ducking Pond; a Cobler, but the neatest Fellow at
Poetry, that ever was handicrafts-man; & no Scholler,
to enable him by learning, to borrow of the Ancients:
Yet he is a Translator too. And he makes
the sweetest Posies for Privie-houses.
Ja.
Ha, ha, ha.
Bum.
What a youth's this for a Knight!
Enter Trebasco.
Amp.
Ile tell yee Ladies—O Trebasco. Good
newes at last I hope.
Tre.
J can never finde you any where, but jeer'd and
laugh'd at, and are foll'd, (as I have often
told you) to your Worships face, and your
Worship perceives it not.
Amp,
To the point, man. How does my Whelp? He
quickly.
Tre.
Why, to put you out of your pain; your
Whelp's grown a tall Dog.
Amp.
Good
Ja.
You said you would tell us, sir: What will you
tell us?
Tre.
And a handsome Dog.
Amp.
Good again.
Ja.
What a Dog-trick's is this?
Tre.
And h'as learnt, besides the main Game, all the
rare tricks and qualities his Tutor could teach.
Amp.
Excellent.
Ja.
Will you not tell us, sir, about your Poet?
Amp.
Hang him, my Dogs worth 'em all, in ready
money.
Mag.
I pray, sir.
Amp.
I will not give his eares for the swolnst headfull of wit among 'em.
Are not his Eares finely curl'd Trebasco? Like his Dam Flapses.
Tres.
Yes, and his Coat all over, sir, they told me.
Amp.
Told thee! Didst thou not see him? My heart
misgives me.
Tre.
See him? No indeed, sir; but J pray beare it as well as you may:
And set not your heart too much upon transportable things.
Amp.
Ha!
Tre.
The Dog is gone, sir.
Amp.
How!
Tre.
Stolne from schoole, sir; and sold to a great Monsieur,
And Shipt away foure daies ago.
Amp.
O my heart will break.
Do not faint Knight; Cheare up your heart with
your Muse.
Amp.
My veine is yet too dul; But I will offer at it.
Three Losses I have had; gone, past all help.
My Mare, my Mistresse, And (which grieves me most of all) my whelp.
Ia.
That line is long enough to reach him.
Amp.
I would it were else.—o—
Bum.
Od's pity. Look you, sir, your Son-in-Law,
that should ha' been, is in much passion
too. But you'll be rul'd by me, you say. And
if J lead you not to comfort, never trust
Neighbours counsell while you live. Is not this
plain enough? My own case at this time is as
dangerous as yours.
Ver.
That's all that comforts me.
Bum.
Neighbourly said. I thank you. Come, Sir,
will you joyn with your Father-in-Law that
should ha' been, and me in a Cup of VVine
to order a designe.
Tre.
There's a reckoning towards.
Bum.
It shall cost you nothing.
Am.
To the next Tavern then. Ladies adieu.
To part with such as you to some are crosses.
Yet Ile not put you down among my Losses.
Exeunt.
Mag.
Daughter while they are gone, let us fall on
our project.
Ja.
For Courtly carriage and behaviour.
Mag.
J long to see this French young schoolmistress.
The Damasin do you call her?
Ja.
The Damoiselle, Ile wait on you.—
Exit.
| The Damoiselle, or The New Ordinary | |