 | The English Moor, or The Mock-Marriage |  |
Act 3.
Scene 1.
Quick-sands. Buzzard. Madge.Quic.
Out of my doors pernicious knave and harlot;
Avaunt I say.
Buz.
Good Master.
Mad.
Pray you worship.
Quic.
You have all the wages you are like to have.
Buz.
Nay, I dare take your word for that: you'l keep
All moneys fast enough whose ere it be,
If you but gripe it once.
I am undone,
And sham'd for ever by your negligence,
Or malice rather for how can it be
She could depart my house without your knowledge.
Buz.
That cursed Mistris that ever she came here!
If I know of her flight, Sir, may these hands
Never be held up, but to curse you onely,
If you cashier me thus: because you have lost
your wife before she was well found, must we
Poor innocents be guilty?
Mad.
For my part,
Or ought I know she may as well be gone
Out o'the the chimney top as out o'door.
Quic.
The door must be your way; and find her out,
Or never find my door again. Be gone.
Buz., Mad.
O, you are a cruel Master.
Exit.
Quic.
So, so, so.
These cries are laughter to me: Ha, ha, ha.
I will be Master of my invention once,
And now be bold to see how rich I am
In my concealed wealth. Come, precious mark
Of beauty and perfection, at which envy
Enter Milicent.
And lust aim all their ranckling poysonous arrowes.
But Ile provide they nere shall touch thy blood.
Mil.
What, are your servants gone?
Quic.
Turn'd, turn'd away
With blame enough for thy suppos'd escape:
Which they will rumor so to my disgrace
Abroad, that all my envious adversaries
Will, betwixt joy of my conceiv'd misfortune
In thy dear loss, and their vain hopes to find thee,
Run frantick thorow the streets, while we at home
Sit safe, and laugh at their defeated malice.
Mil.
But now for my disguise.
Quic.
I, that, that, that.
To hear me and be rul'd by me in that,
A Queens felicity falls short of thine.
Ile make thee Mistress of a Mine of treasure,
Give me but peace the way that I desire it—
Mil.
Some horrible shape sure that he conjures so.
Quic.
That I may fool iniquity, and Triumph
Over the lustful stallions of our time;
Bed-bounders, and leap-Ladies (as they terme 'em)
Mount-Mistresses, diseases shackle 'em,
And spittles pick their bones.
Mil.
Come to the point. What's the disguise, I pray you.
Qui.
First know, my sweet, it was the quaint devise
Of a Venetian Merchant, which I learnt
In my young factorship.
Mil.
That of the Moor?
The Backamore you spake of? Would you make
An Negro of me.
Qui.
You have past your word,
That if I urge not to infringe your vow
(For keeping this moneth your virginity)
You'l wear what shape I please. Now this shall both
Kill vain attemps in me, and guard you safe
From all that seek subversion of your honour.
Ile fear no powder'd spirits to haunt my house,
Rose-footed fiends, or fumigated Goblins
After this tincture's laid upon thy face,
'Twil cool their kidnies and allay their heats.
A box of black painting.
Mil.
Bless me! you fright me, Sir. Can jealousie
Creep into such a shape? Would you blot out
Heavens workmanship?
Qui.
Why think'st thou, fearful Beauty,
Has heaven no part in Ægypt? Pray thee tell me,
Is not an Ethiopes face his workmanship
As well as the fair'st Ladies? nay, more too.
Some can be pleas'd to lye in oyles and paste,
At sins appointments, which is thrice more wicked.
This (which is sacred) is for sins prevention.
Illustrious persons, nay, even Queens themselves
Have, for the glory of a nights presentment,
To grace the work, suffered as much as this.
Mil.
Enough Sir, I am obedient.
Quic.
Now I thank thee.
Be fearless love; this alters not thy beauty,
Though, for a time obscures it from our eyes.
Thou maist be, while at pleasure, like the Sun;
Thou dost but case thy splendor in a cloud,
To make the beam more precious in it shines.
In stormy troubled weather no Sun's seen
Sometimes a moneth together: 'Tis thy case now.
But let the roaring tempest once be over,
Shine out again and spare not.
Mil.
There's some comfort.
Quic.
And taste my care in that, how comfortable
'Tis to the nostril, and no foe to feature.
Whence beauty takes her fair name and descent,
Like peaceful Sisters under one Roof dwelling
For a small time; farewel. Oh let me kiss ye
Before I part with you—Now Jewels up
Into your Ebon Casket. And those eyes,
Those sparkling eyes, that send forth modest anger
To sindge the hand of so unkind a Painter,
And make me pull't away and spoyle my work,
They will look streight like Diamonds, set in lead,
That yet retain their vertue and their value.
What murder have I done upon a cheek there!
But there's no pittying: 'Tis for peace and honour;
And pleasure must give way. Hold, take the Tincture,
Mil.
Some humbler habit must be thought on too.
Quic.
Please your own fancy. Take my keys of all;
In my pawn Wardrobe you shall find to fit you.
Mil.
And though I outwardly appear your Drudge,
'Tis fit I have a Maid for private service:
My breeding has not been to serve my self.
Exit. Mil.
Quic.
Trust to my care for that. One knock. In; in.
Is it to me your business?
Enter Phillis like a Cook-maid.
Phi.
Yea, if you
Be Master Quick-sands Sir; the Masters worship
Here o'the house.
Quic.
I am so. What's your business?
Phi.
'Tis upon that, Sir, I would speak Sir, hoping
That you will pardon my presumptuousness,
I am a Mother that do lack a service.
Quic.
You have said enough. I'le entertain no Mothers.
A good Maid servant, knew I where to find one.
Phi.
He is a knave, and like your worship, that
Dares say I am no Maid; and for a servant
(It ill becomes poor folks to praise themselves,
But) I were held a tydie one at home.
Quic.
O th'art a Norfolk woman (cry thee mercy)
Where Maids are Mothers, and Mothers are Maids.
Phi.
I have friends i'th'City that will pass their words
For my good bearing.
Quic.
Hast thou?
Phi.
Yes indeed, Sir.
I have a Cousen that is a Retorney
Of Lyons-Inn, that will not see me wrong'd;
And an old Aunt in Muggle-street, a Mid-wife,
That knows what's what as well's another woman.
Qui.
But where about in Norfolk wert thou bred?
Phi.
At Thripperstown Sir, near the City of Norwich.
Quick.
where they live much by spinning with the Rocks?
Phi.
Thripping they call it, Sir.
Dost thou not know one Hulverhead that keeps
An Innocent in's house.
Phi.
There are but few innocents i'the countrey Sr.
They are given too much to law for that: what should
That Hulverhead be a councellor, Sir.
Quic.
No a husband man.
Phi.
Truly I know none.
Quic.
I am glad she do's not. How knew'st thou I wanted
A servant.
Phi.
At an old wives house in Bow-lane
That places servants, where a maid came in
You put away to day.
Quic.
All, and what said she?
Phi.
Truly to speak the best and worst, forsooth,
She said her fault deserv'd her punishment
For letting of her Mistress run away.
Quic.
The nevves goes current. I am glad o'that.
Phi.
And that you were a very strict hard man,
But very just in all your promises.
And such a master vvould I serve to chuse.
Quic.
This innocent countrey Mother takes me.
Her looks speak Wholesomness; and that old vvoman
That Bovv-lane purveyor hath fitted me
With serviceable ware these dozen years.
I'le keep her at the least this Gander moneth,
While my fair vvife lies in of her black face,
And virgin vovv; in hope she's for my turn.
Lust, vvhen it is restrained, the more tvvil burn.
Phi.
May I make bold to crave your ansvver, Sir?
Quic.
Come in, I'le talk vvith you.
Exit.
Phi.
Prosper novv my plot,
And hulk, thou art tvvixt vvind and vvater shot.
Exit.
Scene 2.
Nathaniel. Uincent. Edmond. Buzzard.Boy.
Y'are welcome Gentlemen.
Nat.
Let's ha'good wine, Boy, that must be our welcome.
Boy.
You shall, you shall Sir.
Within.
Ambrose, Ambrose;
Boy.
Here, here, anon, anon, by and by, I come, I come.
Ex.
Jerom, Jerom, draw a quart of the best Canary into the Apollo.
Buz.
This is a language that I have not heard.
You understand it, Gentlemen.
Uin.
So shall you anon master Buzzard.
Buz.
Your friend and Jonathan Buzzard kind gentlemen.
Nat.
What excellent luck had we, friend Buzzard, to
meet with thee, just as thy Master cast thee off.
Buz.
Just Sir, as I was going I know not whither:
And now I am arrived at just I know not where. Tis a
rich room, this. Is it not Goldsmiths hall.
Nat.
It is a Tavern man—And here comes the wine.
Fill boy—and her's to thee friend, a hearty draft to
chear thee—fill again boy—There, drink it off.
Ed.
Off with it man—hang sorrow, chear thy heart.
Buz.
And truly ti's the best chear that ere I tasted.
Uin.
Come tast it better, her's another to thee.
Buz.
—And truly this was better than the first.
Ed.
Then try a third. That may be best of all.
Buz.
—And truly, so it is—how many sorts of wine
May a vintner bring in one pot together?
Nat.
By Bacchus Mr. Buzzard, that's a subtil question.
Buz.
Bacchus! whose that I pray?
Uin.
A great friend of the vintners, and master of their company indeed.
Buz.
I was never in all my life so far in a tavern before.
What comforts have I lost.
Ed.
Now he begins to talk.
Nor ever was in all my two, and twenty years
under that Babilonian Tyrant Quicksands, so far as a Vintners
bar but thrice.
Nat.
But thrice in all that time?
Buz.
Truly but thrice Sir. And the first time was to
fetch a jill of sack for my Master, to make a friend of his
drink, that joyned with him in a purchase of sixteen thousand
pound.
Uin.
I, there was thrift. More wine boy. A pottle and a beer bowl.
Buz.
The second time was for a penny pot of Muscadine,
which he drank all himself with an egge upon his
wedding morning.
Nat.
And to much purpose, it seem'd by his wives running away.
Buz.
The third and last time was for half a pint of sack
upon his wedding night, of later memory; and I shall
nere forget it, that riotous wedding night: when Hell
broke loose, and all the devils danced at our house, which
made my Master mad, whose raving made my mistriss run
away, whose running away was the cause of my turning
away. O me, poor masterless wretch that I am.—
O—
Na.
Hang thy master, here's a full bowl to his confusion.
Buz.
I thank you. Let it come Sir, ha, ha, ha.
Uin.
Think no more of Masters, friends are better then Masters.
Buz.
And you are all my friends kind gentlemen, I
found it before in your money when my Master (whose
confusion I have drunk) took your Mortgages; And now
I find it in your wine. I thank you kind gentlemen still.
O how I love kind Gentlemen.
Nat.
That shewes thou art of gentle blood thy self, friend Buzzard.
Buz.
Yes friend—Shall I call you friend?
All.
By all means, all of us.
Buz.
Why then, all friends, I am a gentleman, though
spoild i'the breeding. The Buzzards are all gentlemen,
French has it) is Beau desert; which signifies—Friends,
what does it signifie?
Uin.
It signifies, that you deserv'd fairly at your masters
hands, like a Gentleman, and a Buzzard as you
were, and he turn'd you away most beastly like
a swine, as he is. And now here is a health to him,
that first finds his wife, and sends her home with a bouncing
boy in her belly for him to father.
Buz.
Ha, ha, ha. Ile pledge that: and then Ile tell you a secret.
Nat.
Well said friend; up with that, and then out with thy secret.
Buz.
I will friend. And tother two friends, here's upon the same.
Ed.
I hope he will shew us a way, out of the bottom
of his bowl to find his Mistresse.
Uin.
This fellow was happily found.
Buz.
This was an excellent draught.
Nat.
But the seeret, friend, out with that, you must
keep no secrets amongst friends.
Buz.
It might prove a shrew'd matter against my mischevious
Master as it may be handled.
Nat.
Hang him cullion, that would turn thee away.
Wee'l help thee to handle it, fear it not.
Buz.
Heark you then all friends. Shall I out with it?
Uin.
What else.
Buz.
Ile first take tother cup, and then out with't altogether—And
now it comes—If my Mistress do bring
him home a bastard, she's but even with him.
Nat.
He has one I warrant. Has he cadzooks?
Buz.
That he has by this most delicate drink. But it
is the Arsivarsiest Aufe that ever crept into the world.
Sure some Goblin got it for him; or chang'd it in the
neast, thats certain.
Nat.
I vow thou utterest brave things. Is't a boy?
It has gone for a boy in short coats and long
coats this seaven and twenty years.
Ed.
An Idiote is it.
Buz.
Yes: A very natural; and goes a thissen; and
looks as old as I do too. And I think if my beard
were off, I could be like him: I have taken great pains
to practise his speech and action to make my self merry
with him in the countrey.
Nat.
Where is he kept, friend, where is he kept.
Buz.
In the further side of Norfolk, where you must never
see him. Tis now a dozen years since his father saw him,
and then he compounded for a sum of mony with an old
man, one Hulverhead, to keep him for his life time; and
he never to hear of him. But I saw him within these three
moneths. We hearken after him, as land-sick heirs do
after their fathers, in hope to hear of his end at last.
Uin.
But heark you, friend, if your beard were off,
could you be like him think you? What if you cut it off,
and to him for a father.
Nat.
Pray thee hold thy peace.
Buz.
My beard, friend, no: My beard's my honour.
Hair is an ornament of honour upon man or woman.
Nat.
Come, come; I know what we will do with
him. Mun knock him down with the other cup. We'l
lay him to sleep; but yet watch and keep him betwixt
hawk and buzzard as he is, till we make excellent sport
with him.
Buz.
Hey ho. I am very sleepy.
Nat.
See he jooks already. Boy shew us a private room:
Boy.
This way, Gentlemen.
Buz.
Down, Plumpton-parke, &c.
They lead Buz. out, and he sings.
Scene. 3.
Lucy. Theophilus.Lu.
Indeed you were unkind to turn away
My maid (poor harmless maid) whose innocent mirth
Was the best chear your house afforded me.
The.
I am sorry sister, trust me, truly sorry,
And knew I which way to recover her
With my best care I would. Yet, give me leave,
I saw her overbold; and overheard her
Say, she foresaw that Arthur my sole enemy
Should be your husband. Ile marry you to death first.
Lu.
Now you fly out again.
The.
Your pardon again your sister,
And for your satisfaction I will strive
To oversway my passion. How now Arnold,
Ent. Arn.
Me thinks I read good newes upon thy face.
Ar.
The best, Sir, I can tell is, the old Jew
Quicksands has lost his wife.
The.
She is not dead,
Ar.
Tis not so well for him: for if she were
He then might overtake her though she were
Gone to the devil. But she's run away:
But to what corner of the earth, or under
Whose bed to find her in not to be thought.
It has rais'd such a laughter in the town
Among the Gallants—!
The.
And do you laugh too?
Ar.
Yes; and if you do not out-laugh all men
That hear the joyful newes, tis too good for you.
The.
I am too merciful, I kill thee not.
Out of my doors, thou villain, reprobate.
He beats Arnold.
Ar.
Hold, Pray Sir, hold.
Never while I have power to lift a hand
Against thee, mischievous Villain.
Lucy
Is not this passion, brother?
The.
Forbear, sister.
This is a cause turns patience into fury.
Lu.
Arnold, forbear his sight.
The.
And my house too.
Or villain, look to die, oft as I see thee.
Ext. The. Lu.
Arn.
Turn'd out o'doors! A dainty frantick humour
In a young Master! Good enough for me though;
Because tis proper to old serving-men
To be so serv'd. What course now must I take?
I am too old to seek out a new Master.
I will not beg, because Ile crosse the proverb
That runs upon old serving creatures; stealing
I have no minde to: Tis a hanging matter.
Wit and invention help me with some shift
He kneels.
To help a cast-off now at a dead lift.
Sweet fortune hear my suit.
Ent. Nat. Vin. Edm.
Nat.
Why how now, Arnold! What, at thy devotion?
Ar.
Ile tell you in your ear, sir, I dare trust you.
Nat & Arnold whisper.
Vi.
Could earthly man have dreamt this Rascal Quick-sands.
Whose Letchery, to all our thinking, was
Nothing but greedy Avarice and cosonage,
Could have been all this while a conceal'd whoremaster,
To have a Bastard of so many years
Nursled i'th' Countrey?
Ed.
Note the punishments
That haunt the Miscreant for his black misdeeds;
That his base off-spring proves a natural Ideot;
Next that his wife, by whom he might had comfort
In progeny, though of some others getting,
Should with her light heels make him heavie-headed
By running of her Countrey! And lastly that
The blinded wretch should cast his servant off,
Who was the cover of his villany,
The way to plague him.
Uin.
Ha, ha, ha—
Ed.
What do'st laugh at?
Uin.
To think how nimble the poor uzzard is
To be reveng'd on's Master; How he has Shap'd himself;
Cut off his beard, and practis'd all the postures
To act the Changeling bastard.
Ed.
Could we light
Upon some quaint old fellow now, could match him
To play the clown that brings him up to town,
Our company were full, and we were ready
To put our project into present action.
Nat.
Gentlemen, we are fitted: take this man w'ye
He is the onely man I would have sought,
To give our project life. I'le trust thee Arnold,
And trust thou me, thou shalt get pieces by't;
Besides, Ile piece thee to thy Master again.
Ar.
That clinches Sir.
Nat.
Go follow your directions.
Uin.
Come away then.
Ex. Uin. Ed. Arn.
Nat.
Sweet mirth thou art my Mistress. I could serve thee.
And shake the thought off of all woman kind
But that old wonts are hardly left. A man
That's enter'd in his youth, and throughly salted
In documents of women, hardly leaves
While reins or brains will last him: Tis my case.
Yet mirth, when women fail, brings sweet incounters
That tickle up a man above their sphear:
They dull, but mirth revives a man: who's here,
En. Art.
The solitary musing man, cal'd Arthur,
Posses'd with seriours vanity; Mirth to me!
The world is full: I cannot peep my head forth
But I meet mirth in every corner: Ha!
Sure some old runt with a splay-foot has crost him!
Hold up thy head man; what dost seek? thy grave?
I would scarse trust you with a piece of earth
Or a deft Lass were set before your search.
Ar.
How vainly this man talks!
Nat.
Gid ye good den forsooth.
How vainly this man talks! speak but truth now,
Does not thy thought now run upon a Wench?
I never look'd so but mine stood that way.
Ar.
'Tis all your glory that; and to make boast
Of the variety that serves your lust:
Yet not to know what woman you love best.
Nat.
Not I cadzooks, but all alike to me,
Since I put off my Wench I kept at Livory:
But of their use I think I have had my share,
And have lov'd every one best of living women;
A dead one I nere coveted, that's my comfort:
But of all ages that are pressable;
From sixteen unto sixty; and of all complections
From the white flaxen to the tawney-Moor;
And of all statures between Dwarf and Giants;
Of all conditions, from the Doxie to the Dowsabel.
Of all opinions, I will not say Religious:
(For what make they with any?) and of all
Features and shapes, from the huckle-back'd Bum-creeper,
To the streight spiny Shop-maid in St. Martins.
Briefly, all sorts and sizes I have tasted.
Ar.
And thinkst thou hast done well in't!
Nat.
As well as I could with the worst of 'em tho' I say't.
Few men come after me that mend my work.
Ar.
But thou nere thinkst of punishments to come;
Thou dream'st not of diseases, poverty,
The loss of sense or member, or the cross
(Common to such loose livers) an ill marriage;
A hell on earth to scourge thy conscience.
Nat.
Yes, when I marry, let me have a wife
To have no mercy on me; let the fate
Of a stale dovting Batchelor fall upon me;
Will run away next day, and prostitute
Her self to all the world before her Husband.
Ar.
Nay, that will be too good: If I foresee
Any thing in thy marriage destiny,
'Twil be to take a thing that has been common
To th'world before, and live with thee perforce
To thy perpetual torment.
Nat.
Close that point.
I cannot marry. Will you be merry, Arthur?
I have such things to tell thee.
Ar.
No, I cannot.
Nat.
Pray thee come closer to me. What has crost thee?
Is thy suppos'd slain father come again,
To dispossess thee for another life time?
Or has thy valiant sister beaten thee? Tell me.
It shall go no further.
Ar.
Let your valiant wit
And jocound humor be suppos'd no warrant
For you t'abuse your friends by.
Nat.
Why didst tell me of marrying then? But I
Have done. And now pray speak what troubles you.
Ar.
I care not if I do: For 'twill be Town talk,
My Sister on a private discontent
Betwixt her self and me hath left my house.
Nat.
Gone quite away?
Ar.
Yes, And I know not whither.
Nat.
Beyond Sea sure to sight with th'Air, that took
Her fathers last breath into't. Went she alone?
Ar.
No, No; My man's gone with her.
Nat.
Who, the fellow
That brags on's back so; the stiff strong chin'd Rascal?
Ar.
Even he.
Nat.
The devil is in these young Tits,
And wildfire in their Cruppers.
Ar.
Let me charm you,
An ill construction of her act in this,
I know her thoughts are noble; and my wo
Is swoln unto that fulness, that th'addition
But of word in scorn would blow me up
Into a cloud of wild distemper'd fury
Over the heads of all whose looser breath
Dare raise a wind to break me. Then I fall
A sodain storm of ruin on you all.
Exit.
Nat.
I know not how to laugh at this: It comes
So near my pitty. But ile to my Griggs
Again; And there will find new mirth to stretch
And laugh, like tickled wenches, hand ore head.
Exit.
| The English Moor, or The Mock-Marriage | |