University of Virginia Library

ACT. I.

Scene I.

Vermine, Dryground.
Ver.
You have your Money; full a thousand pound,
Sir Humfrey Dryground.

Dry.
And you have my Mortgage.

Ver.
All well and good; all well and good. But, now,
Sir Humfrey Dryground, let me counsell you.
You have already spent a faire Estate;
A goodly, great estate: I do not taunt,
Nor taxe you for't.

Dry.
Because its pumpt into
The purses of such wretches as thy selfe.

Ver.
But give me leave, now, fairely to admonish
You, to a care, how you do part with this.
You spirited men call Money Dirt and Mud.
I say it is the Eele.

Dry.
And you the Mud
That foster it.

Ver.
It is an Eele, I say,
In such sleek hands, as yours; from whence it glides—

Dry.
Into the Mud, oft-times, from whence it came.

Ver.
I know you doe conceive me. Therefore, Sir,
(As I before was saying) Hold it fast.

Dry.
According to the Ballad.
[He sings.]

Ver.
So so, I see it going already.

Dry.
I, to thy comfort. This is the Usurers Scripture;
And all that they pretend Salvation by:
To give good admonition with their Money;
Though, in their hearts they wish the quick subversion
Of all they deal with. This is all they plead
Against the curses of oppressed soules:
Did not I warne you? Did not I say, take heed?
And so, and so forth. I must thank you Sir.

Ver.
You say, youle make a venture of this Money.

Dry.
Yes Mr. Vermine, in a Project, that—

Ver.
Out upon Projects. Fy fy, out out out.

Dry.
I'm confident shall set me out of debt,
With you and all the World; and reap, againe,
All, that I formerly have sowne, with profit.

Ver.
Sowne! There's a word! Prodigall wast is sowing.
We shall call Shipwrack, shortly, sowing too.
Heark you Sir Humfrey Dryground, may not I
Be privy to your Project? Will you tell me,
If I guesse on it?

Dry.
That I will in sooth.

Ver.
Is 't not to dreine the Goodwins? To be Lord
Of all the Treasure, buryed in the Sands there?
And have a Million yearely, from the Merchants
To cleer the passage.

Dry.
You have had your blow.
No Sir, my Project is in the behalfe
Of the poor Gentleman, you overthrew.
By the strong hand of Law, Bribes, and oppression;
Brookall: Do you know him Sir? whose state you suck'd
That wrought him to a poverty that cryes
Your sinfull Covetise up to the heighth;
And renders you the Monster of our time,
For avarice and cruelty.

Ver.
No more of that.

Dry.
You should do well to add a sum, like this
To his releife: To wave the bitter curse
That will in time fall on you and your house.

Ver.
O ho! I now remember, you have reason.
That Brookall had a Sister, whom you vitiated
In your wild heat of blood, and then deny'd
Her promis'd Marriage; turnd her off with Childe
A dozen yeares since, and since that, never heard of.
Ha! Is't not so? Pray, did you know her Sir?

Dry.
I wish I could redeem that ruthfull fault,
By all expiatory meanes: But thy
Inhumane cruelty is inexpiable:
Unlesse (it comes from Heaven into my heart
To move thee to't) thou tak'st a speedy course
To give him threefold restitution.
Ile put thee in the way. He has a Son,
A hopefull Youth, a Student in the Law,
If his poor Fathers want of means have not
Declined his course: Give him thy onely Daughter,
And make his Fathers owne Inheritance
(By thee unrighteously usurpt) her Dowry;
And pray a blessing may go with it: And then
Thou mayst regaine a Christian reputation,
Till age shall lead thee to a quiet Grave.
Come, is't a match? Will you bestow your Daughter
On Brookalls Son, and make your way to Heaven by't?

Ver.
You have your Money.

Dry.
And thou hast Adders eares
To all such Counsells.

Ver.
If you break your day
I shall thinke of your counsell.

Dry.
Farewell Vermine.

Exit.
Ver.
And farewell Dryground.
This parcell of thy Land, Ile keep from wetting:
The Mortgage.
Tis not in thee to turne an Acre of it
Into pure Liquor, for a twelvemoneths day.
And break that day thy payment, and the Sun
Sets not more sure, then all this Land is mine.
My Daughter! ha! Can't be in thought of man
To dreame of such a Match? A wretch, a Beggar?
Within there! Wheres my Girle? What Ally? Ally?

Enter Alice.
Ali.
Here Sir—

Vir.
My blessing, and good morne: Now heare me Girle.

Ali.
Now for a Speech—

Ver.
The care of Children's such a startle-braine,
That had I more then one, I should run Wild-cat,
(Then one I mean, to care for) that's thy selfe,
My sober discreet Daughter. Note my care,
Pil'd up for thee in massy sums of wealth;
Too weighty for thy weak consideration
To guesse from whence it came, or how together
So layd in mountainous heaps.

Ali.
It is indeed
As strange to me, as are the stony wonders
On Salsbury Plaine to others. But my duty
Perswades me twas your thrift, and that great blessing
That gives increase to honest Industry,
Drawne on it by your prayers and upright life,
That wrought these heaps together.

Ver.
O, Ally Ally,
Tis well if thine with all thy Huswifry
Can keep 'em so. I thanke thee for thy judgement
And charitable thoughts. But—

Ali.
You had other wayes.

Ver.
I say, thou art the onely Childe I care for.
Thy Brother (though I loath to call him so)
Is, now, an utter stranger to my blood;
Not to be nam'd but with my curse, a Wolfe
That teares my very bowells out.

Ali.
Your Money.

Ver.
A riotous Reprobate, that hath consum'd
His last, already, of my meanes and blessing.

Ali.
But he yet may be turn'd Sir.

Ver.
Out oth' Compter!
May he be so, dost think? Could I but dream
His Creditors, that have him fast, could be
So idly mercifull, or that his youthfull Ghing
Could stretch, to get him out, Ile lay, my selfe,
An Action on him weightier, then the strength
Of all their poor abilities could lift:
His Jacks, his Toms, his Nams, Nolls, Gills, and Nuns,
The roaring fry of his Blade-brandishing mates
Should not release his Carcasse: If they did,
I'de force him to a tryall for his life,
For the two hundred Peices that he pilfred.
Out of my Counting-house. He shall up.

Ali.
I will not forfeit my obedience Sir,
To urge against your Justice, onely I crave
Your leave to grieve, that I have such a Brother.

Ver.
Thou shalt defie the name of Brother in him,
My onely, onely Childe; and but in one command
Obey me further, all my estate is thine,
Tis that I cald thee for.

Ali.
I do not crave
More, then your daily blessing; but desire
To know what youle impose upon my duty.

Ver.
Thou shalt, and stile thy selfe a Lady by't.

Ali.
Now Love defend me from the man I feare.

Ver.
This day Ile match thee to a matchlesse Knight.

Ali.
The Westerne Kight Sir, that was here last Term?

Ver.
Even he, this day he comes to Towne.

Ali.
Would I
Were out on't first. A matchlesse Knight
[Aside.]
Indeed, and shall be matchlesse still for me.

Ver.
I like those blushes well: I read his welcome
Upon her cheeks.

Ali.
Sir, I have heard, he has
But little Land.

Ver.
But he has Money Girle
Enough to buy the best Knights Land, that is
A selling Knight, in the West part of England.

Ali.
He's well in yeares.

Ver.
A lusty Batchelor of two and fifty,
With, O, the husbandry thats in him.

Ali.
How came he by his Knighthood? Cost it nothing?

Ver.
No: He was one oth' Cobbe-Knights in the throng,
When they were dubd in Clusters.

Enter Servant.
Ser.
Sir, the Knight,
That you expect this day, is come to Towne.
His man has brought's Portmantue.

Ver.
Fetch the Man.
The welcomst man alive is come to Towne.
Ally, my Girle, my Daughter, Lady Bride!
What title shall I give thee? Now bestirr you,
I know his thrift, he has rid hard to day
To save his Dinner
Enter Wat disguised like a Countrey Servingman.
Welcome honest freind.
And how does the right worshipfull Sir Amphilus?

Wat.
My Master is in health Sir; prays'd be Go—
A little weary, or so, as I am of my carriage,
Which I must not lay down, but in the hands
Of your owne Worship.

Ver.
Tis of weight and lock'd: I guesse the worth;
And warrant him the safety under these Keyes.
But where's thy Master?

Wat.
At his Inne in Holborne
Telling a little with the Host, till I
Bring word from you.

Ver.
No, I will run to him
My selfe: you shall stay here, his Chamber
Fitted against he comes, Ally, bestirr you,
And thinke no paines your trouble on this day,
To morrows Sun shall light your Wedding way.

Exit.
Ali.
Unlesse some unexpected Fate releive me,
I shall be hurried to my endlesse ruine.

Wat.
You are sad, me thinks, young Mistresse, I can tell you,
My Master, when he comes, will make you merry.

Ali.
How? As he is a Foole?

Wat.
No: But as he has
The soule of mirth and Musick at command;
Money, the all-rejoycing spirit; that
Hee'l make you merry with: Nor that alone,
But Dignity, which Women prise 'bove money,
You are a Lady by't: Mark that. And if
He has a weaknesse, which you reckon folly;
It laies you open way to Soveraignty;
The thing which is of most esteem. You'll be
His Lady Regent; rule all his, and him.

Ali.
This Fellow talkes not like a Serving-man:
A forty shilling wages Creature, but
Some disguis'd spokes-man. What may be the trick o'nt?

Wat.
You cannot, in th'estate you are, imagine
What tis to be a Wife to such a man.

Ali.
No more then you perceive the paines you loose
In fooling for him thus. But spare your breath,
And take this briefe tast of his Entertainment.
First know, that J do know the man you speak of,
To be a covetous Miser; old and foolish.
Not worth in my estimation the worst Meale
That ever he himselfe paid three pence for.

Wat.
Who do you mean? Sir Amphilus my Knight.

Ali.
Yes Squire, J know him and his qualities;
The waies he got his Wealth by, casuall Matches;
Of forty, fifty, and sometimes a hundred
For one. When bounteous Fortune (seldome failing
Men of his Brain) cast all into his mouth,
The Gudgeon gap'd for. And how slight a thing
It is, for such base Worldlings to be rich?
That study nothing but to scrape and save.
That have no Faith, but in their ready money,
Nor love to Worldly pleasures above those
Poor Coblers use.

Wat.
Cheap Whores, and Duck-hunting:
There's his delight indeed.

Ali.
J hate to think of of such a Dunghill Scarab.
A water-Dog Knight!

Wat.
But Wedlock, to his age, will bring him home
To choicer pleasures, and abandon such.

Ali.
His Age is fit for nothing, but to rock
Anothers Child; and to rejoyce through Spectacles,
At the strong Guesse he has, it is his owne.

Wat.
You slight him strangely yet: but when you see
Him, and his weighty reasons to confute you.—

Ali.
J will nor weigh, nor see him, or his reasons.
And if thou ow'st him so much Service, tell him;
Go back and tell him strait: save him the end
Of his intended Journey. For to come
Hither, will be to drive me hence. And tell
My Father, ere he shall enforce me, take him;
Ile flye into the Armes of one he hates.

Wat.
Are you in earnest?

Ali.
Yes, by all my hopes.

Wat.
These are the armes that must receive thee then.
Nay, be not frighted Sister; look, tis J.

Off his Beard, &c.
Ali.
Beshrew me but J am. How got you hither?
Could not the Compter hold you?

Wat.
So it seems,
My Virtue was not to be so obscur'd.
Noble Sir Humphrey Dryground, Sister, was
My franck Infranchiser. O, J have wonders
To tell thee Sister. Thou must go with me.
But first, lend me some money. Borrow some;
(And let it be a good Summe) of my Father,
Now in his absence. Come, supply, supply
My Pockets and thine owne. For we must hence.
Th'art made for ever, Sister. Quick, dispatch.

Ali.
What's the meaning of all this?

Wat.
Twill be too long to tell it here.
The Rascall foole, to whom my Father gives thee,
Is come to Towne: And should he now surprise thee,
Here in my Fathers power, thy strength might faile thee.
Be therefore at a sure Guard. O, Sir Humphrey,
How are my Sister and my selfe bound to thee,
That plottest this escape. Dispatch good Ally,
And heare thee rest by th' way.

Ali.
Why? Wither? What's the matter?

Wat.
Say thou will have that Coxcomb, Ile but kill thee,
And leave the here: And all my care is over.

Ali.
Ile sooner dye then have him.

Wat.
Why do you not shun him then? O, sweet Sir Humphrey,
Is thy care slighted thus, in my delivery?
In my disguise? In sending out my Father
On Tom-fooles Errant? While a Coach is sent
To the back-doore here; All to save my Sister,
My thanklesse Sister here, from worse then Rape.

Ali.
Why, whither would you have me?

Wat.
But hard-by.
But till the Wilde-fire of my Fathers Passion
Shall be run out. Slid, J had eene forgot.
Beare money with us, Sister; pretty store.
Who knowes occasions? Let him keep in pawne
My rich Portmantue for't.

Ali.
There's some good stuff in't.

Wat.
More then hee'll thank me for. Wee'll talke i'th' Coach
In, in, and furnish; & so through the Garden,
And, whirre, we are gone. If we should be prevented;
By this good steele, if J but heare one knock,
Jle make sure work o'thee. J can but trusse for't.
There's a faire end on's both. And what will he
Do with his money then? Look how thou standst.
Jf you respect your Father, or the Dog-Master,
To be your Husband, better then me, then take
You your owne course: Mine shall be known next Sessions.

Ali.
Better then you, don't you respect your Father
Better then me?

Wat.
No, if J do, let me be hang'd for nothing:
And that would anger any man I think.
'Slid, thou and J had one Mother, (which
We both take after) so had not he and we.
And he takes after no body, that J know.
He loves a stranger better then's owne Childe:
And that mans money, better then that man,
The Devill 'bove all J think. Thou dost not know
What Coales we stand on.

Ali.
Who shall look to th' house?

Wat.
Wilt loose thy selfe with keeping that? Is that
All now? Away, away.

Ali.
Y'are a precious Brother.—

Exeunt.

Scene II.

Bumpsey, Dryground, Valentine, Magdalen, Jane.
Bum.
All this needs not Sir Humphrey.

Dry.
Do but heare patiently, and do your pleasure
J go not about to stop your course, Mr. Bumpsey.

Bum.

Nor J yours, Sir Humphrey; Nor your sonnes
here; Nor his Wifes there: Onely this Gentlewoman,
in mine owne right J may be bold
withall, while you depart my house, if you may
be intreated, so. Is not this right? Is not this
plain?

Mag.

Yet heare his Worship speak, good Bump.

Bum.

Good Whirby, what can his Worship speak? Or
your wisdome twarle for him, in this Cause; that
J do not understand already? Has not his Sonne
wedded our Daughter? How directly, or indirectly

who meddles with his match? Nay more,
has he not bedded her? How, directly or indirectly,
who meddles with that either? Let him have
and hold, possesse (Hmh.) and enjoy; do
his worst, and make his best of her, though she
be an Heire, J will not sue him out of her: No, J
protest; were it Ante Copulam, as it is post, J
would not crosse 'em. Is not this right and plaine
enough.

Dry.

But good Mr. Bumpsey, Brother Bumpsey, I
would call you—

Bum.

Keep your Brothers and your Goods to your
selfe, Sir, J have no need of 'em.

You are a Knight, and a man to Worship—

Val.
He will speake all himselfe.

Bum.
J am a plaine Fellow, and out of debt.

Mag.
J, let him run on.

Bum.
J sought none of your Allyance, J—

Val.
Has he the speed to run beyond himselfe?

Ja.
Yes, and bring himselfe about, J warrant you.

Bum.
Nor to be joyned with houses of great sound,
Whose noise growes from their hollow emptinesse.
J could have matcht my Daughter here, that was,
But now a Barronettesse in Reversion,
To a substantiall Heire of two faire Lordships.

Dry.
Perhaps no Gentleman.

Bum.
Yet honourable, Land-Lordship's reall honour,
Though in a Trades-man Son: when your faire Titles
Are but the shadowes of your Ancestry;
And you walk in 'em, when your Land is gone:
Like the pale Ghosts of dead Nobilitie.
Ha! Ist not so? Is not this right and plaine?

Dry.

Yes like the priviledge you use in your owne
house here.

Bum.
Nay I come up to you now Sir Humfry Dryground;
Up in a point of Chivalry. You are a Knight,
A Baronet to boot: Your son is like
T' inherit that deare paid-for title, but
(Youle give me leave to use my plainnesse)

Dry.
Freely.

Bum.
Your son (I say) is Heire to your bought honour.
Which may hereafter Ladifie my Daughter:
But where's the Land you once were Lord of? Ha!
The goodly Cornfields, Medows, Woods, and Pastures,
That must maintain the House, the Gownes, the Coach,
With all by complements of Horses, Hawks, and Hounds.

Val.
Now hees in.

Bum.
Where be the Parks, the Warrens, Herds, and Flocks?
Besides the Gardens, Orchards, Walks, and Fish-ponds?

Dry.
For that heare me.

Bum.
Ods pitty, give me leave,
You, that had all these once, in three faire Lordships,
To be wrought on, and tonyed out of all,
But a small pittance of Trois Cents per Annum,
By Providence intayld upon the Heire,
(Or thad had wasted too) which now maintaines you,
In a proportion of Smoak, and Sack,
To wash your mouth with after, where you live
Confin'd in Milford Lane, or Fullers Rents,
Or who knows where, it skills not—

Dry.
Must I heare this too.

Mag.
Now he has almost done.

Bum.
Can you (I say) think your good husbandry
A lawfull Precedent for your Gamesome son
To make my Daughter happy in a Marriage,
Though he had twice my Fortunes?

Ja.
Now hee's coming:
Beare but with this; and if he offer not
More then you would request, Ile lose your love.

Bum.
But here's the substance of't, you have my Daughter,
Your Son, sir, has my Daughter, that must have,
And shall, my whole Estate at my Decease;
(No Law exacts it sooner) This Estate
You safely may suppose ten thousand pounds,
Which J have got by thrifty Industry.
Onely one thousand, J confesse, my Wife
Improv'd my Fortune with, Here's the just summe.
J give her leave to give it to her Daughter:
She may endow her Husband with it. So,
Is not this plaine? Now note me further, sir;
What J have left is my owne; and you, sir, may
Which what is theirs take hence your Son & Daughter,
Till you shall heare old Bumpsey is deceast.
Then let him come, and challenge all—that's left;
Mean time J know my course.

Ja.
Now chop in with him, Mother, you know how apt
Hee is to crosse you in these Moods.

Val.
Deare, worthy, honour'd, sir,

Bum.
sh't, sh't, sh't; Woman come you with me.

Mag.

J Bump. Let us go our way, and let them take
theirs agods name.

Val.

Pray heare me, sir.

Mag.

At this time, sir, he shall not.

Bum.

Shall not! He shall sure: Ods pity! shall
not: Are you pleas'd to speak, sir.

Val.
not to offend—

Bum.
Not to a Fiddlestick. Shall not! Can you speak or not?
If not, pray yell me so.

Val.
J married, sir, your Daughter.

Bum.

You may thank her Mother for't, not me.
Well, will you speake?

Val.
J married her in a firme hope to winne
Your Love and favour.

Bum.
Well.

Ual.
Which, since I have not yet; and time must worke it,
I would make this my suit.

Bum.
Would I could heare it once.

Ual.
That you would take
With re-acceptance of this thousand pound
Your Daughter and me into your Family.

Bum.
And why the thousand pound; doe's't burn your Fingers?
Give us but meat and lodging for't: My Father,
Out of his little left Estate will give us
A hundred yearely for other necessaries.

Bump.
With all my heart.

Val.
And as you finde my regular life deserve
Your future favour, so extend your bounty,
When Age shall call upon you to dispose
Of all your faire Possessions.

Bum.
Humh! A pretty od speech this! I would I knew
The meaning on't.

Val.
I mean, Sir, as I speak; that till you finde
Strong probability in me to manage
A good estate, you trust me not with any.

Bum.
Ha! Is it so? Then J come to a point with you.

Mag.
Marke him now, Sir Humfrey.

Bum.
You look, Sir, in my Daughters right, to have,
After my death, my whole Estate, by shewing
Me, in my life time, your good husbandry, by husbanding of nothing:
Y' have tane off halfe my purpose; for J meant
To have kept it in my power, whether to leave her
Any, or nothing: And, perhaps (d'yee heare)
By an odd course, that J was thinking on
To ha' made all nothing ere J dy'd: But now
Halfe of that power Ile put into your hands,
Ile try what you can do with something.

Mag.
Halfe? What meane you halfe?

Bum.
Even halfe of all J have.

Mag.
J hope you will not deal so.

Bum.
And as he deals with that, Ile use the rest.

Mag.
Pray be advis'd.

Bum.
Never by you 'gainst this:
Ile give him instantly the free possession
Of halfe J have: Now marke; if you increase,
Or keep that halfe, then, doubtlesse, J shall do,
As well with tother for you: If you diminish
Or waste it all, ile do the like with my part.

Mag.
Husband.

Bum.
Ile do't: Together we will live:
And Ile along with you in your owne course,
And, as you play your game, you win or lose all:
Thrive and ile thrive: Spend you, and J will spend:
Save, and Jle save; scatter, and Ile scatter.

Mag.
You won't be mad.

Bum.
Ile do't: Let him throw Money
Into the Thames, make Ducks and Drakes with Peices,
Ile do the like: till he has made a match
Or no match of my Daughter: There's the point
And the whole substance on't.

Dry.
Will you do so?

Bum.
Will I? Tis done. Ile make him a good husband,
Or be no husband for him: And so see
Whats mine, out of the danger of his waste,
And have some sport too for my Money: Ha!
I love to do these things.

Mag.
Nay, but in one thing, Bump let me advise you.

Bump.
In nothing 'gainst this course, good whirly: no,
Tis so set downe. I know I shall be counted
An odde old humorous Cockscombe for't by some:
But the truth is, I love to do these things:
And so God gi yee joy.

Dry.
Ile take my leave Sir.

Bum.
Not so I hope, Sir Humfry.

Dry.
I have businesse,
And go well satisfied with this agreement:
And, Val. take briefly this my Charge: You are now
A Husband, be a good one: Y' have my blessing.
But (heark you) do you remember 'gainst the evening?

Val.
All Sir, all: I have spread my Nets already.

Dry.
Sir, fare you well.

Bum.
At your pleasure Sir.

Dry.
Ile shortly visit you.

Bum.
At your own good time Sir-
Exit Drygr.
These shall stay here, Ile blindfold them with Money,
And by a new way try, if they can grope
The right way into th' World. Come your way.