 | The Damoiselle, or The New Ordinary |  |
ACT. IIII.
Scene I.
A Rabble of rude Fellowes pulling in Wat after them, Valentine, Oliver, Ambrose, Phillis.Wat.
You Rogues, Slaves, Villaines, will you murther me?
Rab.
To the Pump with him: To the Pump, to the Pump.
Val.
Prithee beat off the Curs.
Rab.
No, to the Thames, the Thames.
Phil.
Why do you use the man so? Is he not a Christian
Or is he not Christen'd enough think you, that you would dip him?
Ol.
Pray Gentlemen forbeare: It is thought fit,
Upon request made by a Noble Friend,
Favouring his Person, not his quality;
That for this time the Pandar be dismis'd.
So all depart in peace.
Enter Rabble.
Rab.
Away, away, lets go then.
1.
A Noble Friend! Pox of his Noble Friendship.
He has spoyl'd our sport. O! how we would a sous'd him?
Ol.
Now, Mr. Hackney-man, if you have so much grace,
Render due thanks.
J thank you Gentlemen.
Phil.
I thank you for him too.
Ol.
On both your Knees; unless you hold it better
To kneele yet to the Pump: which you had done,
My most officious Pimp, had not his pity
Prevayl'd against our Justice.
Val.
So, arise; enough, enough.
Amb.
Troth tis a shame he should get off so easily;
Let him be yet but duck'd, or shew'd the way
Over the Garden Wall into the Thames.
Val.
Good Ambrose, be not so severe; who knowes
What need we may of him? We are all
Flesh and blood Ambrose.
Phil.
Thou art a Wag I warrant thee.
Amb.
Are not you married?
Val.
Mass, twas so late, I had almost forgotten it.
Amb.
No, tis so late you ha' not yet forgot
Some Office he has done you in his way.
Ol.
Didst ever pimp for him? Protest by what thou fear'st most.
VVat.
No, as I hope to escape this Gentlemans fury.
Amb.
Go, get the hence, infufferable Villaine.
I could een kick thee into twenty peeces,
[He kicks Wat.]
And send thee to thy Master, for my stake
Soon, at his Rifling.
Think whilst thou liv'st what tis to be a Pandar.—
A Pandar,—Pandar—there's for your remembrance.
[He kicks him.]
Val.
Enough.
Amb.
This touch, & I have done—
Val.
Away
Phil.
Pray let him go, Ile schoole him for it.
[Exeunt Wat Phillis.]
Val.
This may work good upon the Rascall, if he
Have but humanity, although no grace.
Ol.
We have discovered the great Rifling Val.
Val.
And think you have done wondrous wisely; do you not?
To sneak before me thither. I know all
You have discover'd; and how far you are
Mistaken in the old man and his Daughter.
All shall be plaine to you soon. Walk off a little.
Ol.
We'll leave you till anon we meet at the Ordinary.
[Exit. Ol. Amb.]
Enter Vermine—Amphilus Bumpsey.
Amp.
I protest, Gentlemen, I have not drown'd sorrow
With so much merry-go-down, these three halfe years.
Bump.
As with your part of three halfe pintes of Sack.
We had no more amongst us.
Amp.
How much was that a peece think you?
Ver.
It was enough to shew his Prodigality.
In over-wastfull Cost. You were not wont
To be a Boordsend-King; a pay-all in a Tavern.
Bum.
But now I love to do these things.
Amp.
Now if you could be drawn to the ducking-Pond,
To joyn your Groat sometimes with me; or two-pence,
There were a Recreation indeed:
That Peerlesse Princely sport, that undoes no man:
Though cheating there; and rooking be as free
As there is square play at the Ordinaries.
Bum.
Well the point is: My swaggering Son-in-Law,
Appointed to be here among the Trees.
My Daughter told me so. Walk here-about.
If he can give light of your light, hee'd chide.
Into Ram-Alley-Sanctuary, to Debtor,
That praies and watches there for a Protection;
And presently return to you:—
Exit.
Amp.
Let it be so; 'slid the old angry man!
Enter Brookeall.
He'll cross us if he see us walke this way.
[Exit Amp. Vermine.]
Broo.
These walks afford to miserable man,
Undone by Suits, leave, yet, to sit, or go,
Though in a ragged one; and look upon
The Giants, that over-threw him: Though they strut
[Lawyers and others pass over the Stage.]
And are swolne bigger by his emptiness.
Twas here, that we appointed, further meeting,
The two houres respited are almost run:
And he engag'd his honour in such tearmes,
As I presume he'll come. Honour! From whence
Can he derive that Princely attribute,
VVhose Father has descended to a Villany?
His house was Noble though: and this young man
Had a right virtuous Mother, whom I lov'd,
Intirely lov'd: and was in Competition
For marriage with her; when high Providence
Allotted her to him; who since her Death,
Defam'd my Sister, and disgrac'd our house.
My quarrell is not good against his Son
For that: But for my Boy! His doubtfull talk
Of him distracts me.
See the Vermine,
That hath devoured me living, His Aspect
Addes to my Passion such a bitterness,
That turnes me all to gall. I must avoid him,
Exit.
Amb.
Introth Father-in-Law that should ha' been, or that
May be yet (come, who knowes what luck we may have,
Though the dancing Planets have cut cross Capers over
Out heads.) I like this old fellows humour of chearing up
The heart well! And would I were lost too, after my Mare,
My Dog and your Daughter: If this warm Sack has not
Kindled a desire in me to play the good fellow, so it might
Be of free cost, to drown these dry remembrances.
Enter Valentine.
See, one of the jeerers. Is this he, that stole the marriage?
Ver.
Yes, and perhaps my Daughter too. His Father's gone
Now, and I know not how to question him.
Amp.
Let me alone to question him. Did you see this Gentleman's
Daughter, sir, my Wife, that should have been?
Val.
Since when, sir.
Amp.
Since she was stolne away, sir. It were good
You would let us have her again; and quickly too,
Ere she be worse for wearing, as we say.
Old Brookall is not come yet.
Amp.
VVill you answer me?
Val.
You are a busy foole.
Amp.
I am satisfied. He knowes nothing.
Val.
You lye, Sir.
Amp.
I think I do. You know nothing of her I mean, Sir.
Val.
You lye again, Sir.
Amp.
I think I do again, Sir. Pray be not so terrible;
Examine him your selfe, if it please you.
Enter Brookall.
Broo.
VVere his eyes Basiliskes; or did he beare
Upon his hellish Countenance the faces
Of all the Furies (that no doubt attend him)
Ile shun no place for him. Are they acquainted?
O most prodigious!
Ver.
VVhat do you know, Sir, of my Daughter, I beseech you?
Val.
That she has a wretch, a miserable Caitiff
Unto her Father.
Broo.
How is that?—
[aside.]
Ual.
A villain that has scrap'd up by oppression
Law-strife and Perjury, a Dowry for her,
So mixt with curses, that it would consume
An Earles Estate to match with it and her.
And leave him curs'd in his Posterity.
Amp.
How blest was J to miss her!
Broo.
Can he speak thus to him?
[aside.]
Uer.
Dar'st thou confront me thus?
Ual.
Dar'st thou yet keep a Groat of thine extorted Wealth,
And seest what Judgments fall one thee already?
Can all thy Gold redeem thy good opinion,
(In case he wanted it) to save his life,
A Hangmans Fee, much lesse a Judges thanks,
Or price of a Lords Letter to reprieve him;
Yet may this Son survive thee; and hourely he
Unto thy last houre, thine Affliction be.
Amp.
O happy condition of a Batchelor!
Broo.
I like this well in the young man.—
[aside.]
Ver.
How can you say you know this?
Val.
Prethee how can't be otherwise?
Hadst thou a vertuous Childe (as here and there,
Some Mothers win a soule) it would be taken
Dead or alive from thee, unto thy greife too,
To scape the curse might come with a Childs part
Of thine ill-got estate: that's thy Daughters case.
Ver.
Oh—
Brro.
Brave young fellow!
Val.
But shew me where an evill Off-spring has not
Surviv'd to spurn the dust of such a Father;
And lewdly wast in one or two descents
(Unto their own destruction) what was purchased
At price of soules departed?
Ver.
Will you vouchsafe to leave me?
Amp.
Pretty odd Doctrine, this!
Val.
I have not done w' yee yet.
What corrupt Lawyer, or usurious Citizen,
Oppressing Landlord, or unrighteous Judge,
But leaves the World with horror? and their wealth,
(By rapine forc'd from the oppressed Poor)
To Heires, that (having turnd their Sires to th' Devil)
Turne Idiots, Lunaticks, Prodigals, or Strumpets?
All wanting either wit, or will, to save
Their fatall Portions from the Gulfe of Law.
Pride, Ryot, Surfets, Dice, and Luxury,
Ver.
Ha' you done yet?
Val.
A word or two for use; and so an end.
Broo.
Not so: It must be amplified a little further.
Ver.
Torment and death! Is he come? Let me go;
Amp.
Nay pray Sir heare them; though you profit not;
I may perhaps. Methinks it edifies.
Broo.
You sayd, and you sayd well; His tainted wealth,
Got by corruption, kept by niggardise,
Must flye as ill, through Luxury and Riot:
I add, that they who get it so, shall leave it,
To run at the like waste, through their succession
Even to the Worlds end: tis not one age,
Though spent in prayers, can expiate the wrong
Such an estate was gotten by, though the estate
Be, to a doyt, spent with it: But it shall
Fly like a fatall scourge, through hand to hand;
Through Age to Age, frighted by Orphans crys,
And Widows tears, the groanes and Lamentations,
Of oppressed Prisoners, mingled with the curses
Of hunger-bitten Labourers, whose very sweat
Thou robst them of: this charming noise is up
Of many sad, some mad afflicted wretches,
Whose marrow thou hast suck'd; and from whose bowels,
The nourishment was crush that fed thee, and
That ravenous Wolfe, thy conscience.
Ver.
I shall trounce you:
Enter Bumpsey.
Bum.
What's here? Worrying of Vermine?
Broo.
This noyse, I say, of hideous cryes and curses,
In thy deare life time; nor in theirs, the strangers,
That must be curs'd with the division
Of it, when thou art gone: But, still, it shall
Pursue, to all succeeding times, all those,
That entertaine least parcels of thy money,
When they shall finde at best, it can but buy
Disgrace, diseases, overthrows at Law,
And such deare punishments; untill, at last,
All hands, affrighted with the touch of it,
Shall let it fall to earth; where it shall sinke
And run into a veyne of Ore, shall reach—
To Hell. And they, that shall, hereafter, dig it,
Hundreds of Ages hence, must all compound
With the grand Lord o'th Soyle, the Devill, for't.
Amp.
So they make hot Purchases!
Broo.
Now Sir, you may instruct the Usurer, to make use
Of all he has heard, while I avoyd his sight;
Heaven knows I am sick on't: you forget me Sir.
Val.
Feare not: I will not fayle you.
Bum.
No: Ile deliver him the use of all.
Ver.
Oh the variety of my vexation—
Bum.
And all is this (as I advis'd before.)
Spend all your selfe, and save your Heires the sin;
The shame, the sorrows, and the punishments,
That are joynt-heritable with your wealth:
As very learnedly hath been related.
And there's the point, and the whole substance on't.
Ver.
Bestow your Substance so Sir, if you like it.
Bump.
Sir, my condition runs another way.
To the same end perhaps; following my Leader, here.
Amp.
Your Son in Law? Trust me, a most fine man:
And, if his life be answerable to his Doctrine,
Tis like heele lead you to a faire end of all.
A proper teacher and an edifying.
Bump.
Come Sir, lead on, I heare you are provided
Five hundred thick for this free nights adventure.
Val.
I am Sir, here it is.
Bump.
I am so too Sir.
And here it is: And here it is, and here and there, and here it is.
Amp.
O brave old man.
Bump.
Ile make one w'ye at your new Ordinary,
They say tis excellent.
Val.
For rarity and plenty,
There's no such Pension in all this City.
Amp.
And all for nothing?
Val.
For lesse then kisse your Hostesse.
Amp.
And is there delicate Wine too? I must thither.
Val.
The flowre of France, and quintessence of Spaine
Flow like a Spring-tyde through the House.
Amp.
O rare!
And all for nothing?
Bump.
Hang nothing. Be it as twill,
I am for any thing; and as well provided,
As you, or any the best Gamester there.
Ver.
Sir.
Bum.
I love to do these things. But first, pray tel me
Can you tell tale or tydings of his Daughter here?
Val.
Not of his Daughter: But I heard his Son
Was freed, this day, from Prison.
Ver.
How, how, how?
Enter Brookall, Phillis.
Broo.
Yonder he is, still, busie.
Phil.
Ile among 'em. Walke you back a little,
And, get I any money, Ile lend thee some.
Ile tell you how. Some freind has paid his debt,
The Action is dischargd; and he's releas'd.
Ver.
You practise my abuse. Tis not in man,
To do me such a mischeife.
Amp.
Away Girle.
Phil.
Thou art as hard, as this dry crust, here, was.
But he is better minded now, I hope:
Now, old man I am sure thou art for me,
Thou cursedst me before, but now thou wilt
Blesse me, I hope, and not without a Crosse
Of a faire Silver Sixpence.
Ver.
Hence you Harlot.
Phil.
Nay look you, if I could afford it, thinke you
I'de make two words w'ye: tis but a sixpenny matter
Between us; why will you be so hard: tis but
So little lesse left among all thy Children;
And Ile bate it them in their prayers for thee,
Though I be at the trouble, my selfe, to do it.
Val.
Troth, she begs prettily. I must give her something.
Here Wench.
Bum.
What is it, J will see it.
Phil.
Tis a good Shilling, and a vie; will you see't Sir?
Bam.
Look you, tis cover'd.
Phil.
Gentlemen, will you come in? will you vie it?
Amp.
No we deny it.
Phil.
You may revve it then, if you please. They
come not in to binde it.
Val.
Will you come in againe Sir?
Bum.
Sir, after you, and't be to my last sixpence.
I will keep Covenant w'ye.
Val.
A shilling more on that.
Bum.
Done Sir: there tis.
Phil.
Why, these are Lads of bounty! Have you
any minde yet Gentlemen?
What, to be Bankrupts?
Phil.
Troth, thou wouldst feare as much, shouldst thou but break
Thy Porredge Pipkin.
Val.
Prithee what's thy name?
Phil.
Nell, my Mother calls me. J nere knew Sire,
nor Godsire.
Val.
Nell?
Phil.
Yes: And tis as bonny a Beggars name, as ever
came from beyond Trent.
Val.
This Girle, methinks, howere necessitated
Into this course, declares she has a spirit
Of no grosse ayre: And J dare think her Blood,
Although, perhaps, of some unlawfull mixture,
Deriv'd from Noble veines. One may perceive
Much in her Language, in her Looks, and Gesture,
That pleads, methinks, a duty above pitty,
To take her from this way, wherein she wanders
So farr from the intent of her Creation.
Bump.
Your meaning is, you would buy her out of her Calling.
Is it not so?
Val.
Ten Peices J would give
Towards a new one for her.
Bump.
Here's ten more
To bind you quite from begging. Can you afford it?
If yes, accept it. And let's see your back.
Phil.
J make no Curtsies, nor send thanks that way.
No, Ile be forwards in them. May my thanks and prayers
Multiply years and blessings on your heads.
And when J beg againe, may Beadles take
Advantage on my back, and lash the skin off,
So Heaven be ever with you—
Val.
Stay. Who would not have given this Money? Gentlemen,
Phil.
Nor move you them for me. J should, now, feare
One of their ill-got pence, here mingled, would
Corrupt and overthrow my righteous Fortune.
Exit Phil.
Amp.
O villanous Vixen.
Ver.
Each minute of this day augments my torment,
Yet J have coold it with some patience;
Attending Sir your answer.
Val.
For your son.
Ver.
J have no Son. J aske you for my Daughter.
Val.
Be this your pennance for your misbeleife,
Hye you to the Compter: if you finde not there
Your son; meet me an hour hence at my Fathers,
Ile tell you news of him; and he perhaps
May tell you of his Sister. This deserves
A fee. Your absence pays it me. Go quickly,
We have some businesse: And your stay will but
Make the Scene tedious.
Ver.
Weel go. Wil't please you?
Amp.
Yes: we will off in Rhime. There is no doubt,
If Wat be not i'th Compter, he is out.
Exit Ver. Amp.
Bump.
Now, what's the next vagary?
Val.
Onely this Sir,
You have playd at small Game with me. Now there is
A greater tryall of my Love and Bounty,
Instantly to be made. A Gentleman,
(J stay too long) an intimate Freind's arrested,
But for two hundred pound on execution:
Will you joyne Charity to fetch him off?
Bump.
J would 't had been thine owne case two dayes since.
One of your fine Companions, some poor Shark?
Ual.
Will you be pleasd to see him?
Bump.
J am halfe sick of this Condition:
J do begin, not altogether, now,
To love these things so well methinks. Humh ha!
Ual.
Nay, if you go not chearfully—
Bump.
Yes: J go.
Exeunt ambo.
Scene II.
Brookall, Phillis.Broo.
Good Childe, thy tale is pittifull; yet it sorts
So with the fell condition of my Fortune,
That J crave more of it.
Phil.
J came not to
Discourse of sorrow, but to bring you comfort:
VVill you yet have a Crowne?
Broo.
J prithee keep
Thy Money Child; and forwards with thy story.
Thou saydst thy Mother was a Gentlewoman.
Phil.
Jle give you reason. Since J can remember,
Shee never did a wrong, though suffered much;
Nor the least unjust thing. No, though her poverty
And care of me have pinch'd her very bowels,
Shee knew not how to seek anothers good,
So much as by request. Shee never durst borrow,
For feare to come so neer the danger of
A promise-breach: And, for base ends, to lye
Shee holds it sacriledge. Ifaith she jerk'd
That humour out of me; for J was given
(I tell you as a Freind) a little to't.
Broo.
Thou saydst, thou thoughtst, thy Father was a Knight.
How thinkst thou he could lye then, to abuse
A Virgine of that goodnesse, as it seemes
Shee, that by him became thy Mother, was.
Phil.
The Devill, sure, was powerfull with him, then.
Nor do you hear me say, all Gentlefolkes
Are of one minde. Alasse they could not live
One by another then.
Broo.
Peace, stay a little:
How came thy Mother to decline her spirit
So low, as thus to suffer thee to beg?
Phil.
Vertue goes often wet-shod, and is faine
To coble it selfe up to hold out water
And cold necessity: But sure, the quality
Came to me by the Fathers side too: For
Tis a more commendable, and Courtly practise
To beg, then steale. He was perhaps, a Courtier.
J rather would be rob'd of all J have,
Then steale one farthing.
Broo.
Thou say'st thy Mother never would reveale
To thee, or any one, her Birth, or Fortune.
Answer me, prethee, how dost thou collect
Th' hadst such a Father? Or that he has thus
Wrong'd thy poore Mother, by not marrying her?
Phil.
Now you come to me indeed old man: How now,
What do you weep?
Broo.
The sharpness of the Aire
Strikes on mine eyes a little. Prethee say.
Phil.
J first, as fain would know the hidden cause
That works this aptness in me, to discover
My Mother and my selfe to you, J know not
How to look off o' you. Ifaith you weep.
But know not what it is. Pray can you tell me?
Or any like reason, why J should
Thus doat, and hang about you? Or tell me this,
Have you not been of better Fortune? Are not you
Some decayed Knight? Be not asham'd, but tell me.
They cannot all be rich, there are so many.
Broo.
Oh my heart!
Phil.
Yea, are your Conscience struck?
Have at you for a father then: And yet
Me-thinks you are more old in goodness, then
To be, so late, so wicked, as to wrong
A woman of her sweetness. Yet Ile try you.
Here is a long-kept Paper. This is all
That ere I gathered of my Mothers wrong,
And of my Fathers cruelty, and condition.
It seemes this was his hand, and ruthfull farewell,
He turn'd her off withall. See, if you know it.
More then a thousand times I have observ'd her
Weep o're that Paper; ever carefull, though,
Her teares might not deface it. If by chance,
As when those teares prevented had her sight,
Some soft ones did on that hard Sentence light,
Her Lips took off the Trespass of her Eye;
And her hot Sighes restor'd the Paper dry.
Broo.
This comes so neer a Miracle; that my faith
I feare is staggering. How got'st, thou this paper?
Phil.
I stole it from my Mother, (and in Troth
Tis all that ere I stole) because she should not
Weep out her eyes upon't. I do not love,
Although I am a beggar, to lead blind folks.
Do you not find there, that he is a Knight,
Though he subscribes no name? He tells her there,
And tauntingly, he knowess she is more sorry
For the lost Ladyship he promis'd her,
Broo.
Mine eyes, are now, too full indeed; I cannot.
Phil.
Are you the man then, whom I must ask blessing?
If you bee, speak. Ile have you to my Mother,
Though, I dare sweare, she had rather dye, then you,
Or any of your Race, or hers, should see her,
Whilst she has breath. Yet I will undertake
To prattle you both good friends.
And you shall have my Mammy,
And she shall have her Nell (that's J.)
The man shall have his Mare againe,
And all shall be well. How do you?
Broo.
Prethee forbeare me good wench but a little.
Enter Valentine.
Val.
I have kept my time you see; and shall not fail
In any Circumstance. Here are two Swords,
Pray take your choice. I have bespoke a Boat
Shall land us o're the water, where you please;
Though, I Protest, I yet would beg your Love,
Next to my Naturall Fathers.
Broo.
This I fear'd.
And charg'd the plain way. But't shall not serve.
Val.
You took my part of late, against old Vermin
Broo.
Prethee who would not? This is another case
Val.
Why, if there be no remedy, pray accept
Your forty pounds. The money, Sir, may stead you
For your escape, when you have ta'ne my Life.
Broo.
Your money 'wou'ld hang me, Sir. Your lifes
not worth it.
Ual.
Tis your own money; sent you by your Son.
Broo.
How know I that? Or that I have a Son
By thee unmurther'd.
I told you of a Letter I had mislaid:
Look you. Do you know his hand?
Broo.
If it be not,
Much chang'd, and lately, here is that wil match.
Val.
Was ever given Gold so weigh'd, and try'd?
What Lawyer, Nay, what Judge would be so scrupulous?
No want corrupts good Conscience: Nor excess
Allaies in bad, the thirst of Cov'tousness.
Phil.
What do you think, Sir?
Val.
I think you beg again, and would be whipt.
Phil.
I fecks, I do not beg; but came to offer
This griev'd old man some of my infinite fortune
Found in your lucky money: Lucky indeed;
For I have found a Father by't. I vow
I think my Father. I'st not a fine old man?
I shall know more anon.
Val.
Her money, sure,
Has made her Mad: How do you finde it, Sir?
Broo.
My wonder now, is, how thou canst be Son
Of such a Father! Thou art honest sure.
Here is your Sword, I will accept the money.
Ual.
Then I shall live, and so may want the money.
Will you forbeare it for a day or two?
Broo.
Your Sword again.
Now, I profess to you, I have present need on't,
And am as strict, Sir, for my right, as I
Before was to decline it.
Ual.
Pray, Sir, take it;
And give me leave to beg your charitable
Construction of my Father.
Broo.
How is that?
Ual.
Did you but know the care, the cost, and travell
He has been at a thousand waies, to finde
If possibly he might—
Broo.
O fie, O fie!
Val.
Till all Opinion gave her dead; and then
The meanes he has sought to do you Offices
Against your knowledge. For he knew your Spirit
Would not except of his benevolence.—
Broo.
Read that, and guesse whose deed 'tis. Stand
off Girle.
Phil.
Yes forsooth Father, I shall learn in time,
Ile call him Father till he findes me another.
J know he could not shed those teares for nothing.
Ual.
But does she live, to whom this was directed?
Broo.
Speak low; is that your Fathers hand?
Ual.
It is.
Broo.
Along with me then. Girle, lead you the way.
Phil.
Anan forsooth Father.
Broo.
Shew us to your Mother.
Phil.
Shall he go too? What will the Neighbours think?
There's none but Beggars all about us. Ods so,
There'll be a show indeed.
Ual.
No matter. Will you go?
Phil.
Sir, they will hale you to peeces.
Ual.
Will you deny me?
Phil.
How shall I answer't to my Mother? She
Never saw man, nor has been seen by man,
That I know in my life.
Ual.
No matter: Will you on?
Broo.
Ile save thee blamelesse.
Phil.
Troth Ile venter.—
Exeunt Oes.
| The Damoiselle, or The New Ordinary | |