University of Virginia Library

Sce. 1.

2d Apperance, a City in the front, and a Prison on the side.
Philotas, Stratocles, Leocrates, Archippus singing in the Prison, Molops harkning without.
Mol.

These wicked Ephesian Captives, are most
everlasting Tipplers; I charm'd my fleas
with'em last night, and left them too I'm
sure well to live, and yet they're at it againe
this morning.

Slaves
within.

Hem! hem! hem! A pox on our Gaolor.
&c.

Mol.

So! now they're tuning their Pipes. O the Religion
of these Greekes! they sing and drinke downe the
Sunne, and then they sing and drinke him up againe. Some
drunken Hymne I warrant you towards now, in the prayse
of their great huge, rowling, Tunbellyed god Bacchus as
they call him. Let's hearken a little.

The Slaves song within.
‘A pox on our Gaolor, and on his fat Jowle
Mol.
That's that's I.

‘Ther's liberty lyes in the bottome o'th' Bowle.
‘A figge for what ever the Raskall can doe,
‘Our Dungeon is deepe, but our Cup's so too.
‘Then drinke we a round in despight of our Foes,
‘And make our hard Irons cry clinke in the Close.
Mol.

Wondrous good I faith! These fetter'd Swannes
chant it most melodiously before their deathes. Sure there is
a great deale of pleasure in being hang'd; for I have observ'd

it e're since I was a little one, that they alwayes sing before
they goe to't. But here's that will spoyle your voyces my
Friends.

Phil.

Who's there?

Mol.

Your friend at a dead lift; your Landlord Molops.

Phil.

Now grand Commissioner of fate; what wouldst
thou have Heyre apparent to Pluto?

He opens the dore, and the Slaves enter.
Mol.

Come forth; and if you can endure to read,
shews 'em a halter.
her's a Persian line in my hand will instruct you.

Stra.

Guardian of Ragges and Vermin, Protect our of
halfe-breeches and no shirts, what's thy Raskalship's pleasure?

Mol.

Good words Sir, good words: I am your Destiny,
do you not see your Thread of Life here?

Leoc.

Yes, yes, 'tis of thy wives one twisting, good Molops,
I know the Promotion of your Family: she came from
the Web-errantry of highway-Inkle, to the domestique
turning and winding of home bred Hempe, and thence gets
a three-halfe penny Legacy at the departure of every
wrong'd Sinner.

Archip.

And as for thy selfe, had not that weighty bulke
of thine crack'd so many Gibbets, that the King began to
feare his Forrests, thou had'st never been preserv'd to whiffle
plagues as thou usher'st us to the Barre, and take away the
Judges stomackes as often as they come to eate upon Life
and Death, and celebrate the Funerals of distressed Gentlemen.

Mol.

You dying men may be impudent by your places,
but I'd wish you to compose your countenances and your
manners both, for the King is comming to visit you.

Phil.

What mak'st thou here then? though I easily beleeve
thou hast an ambition to be seene in good company,
yet prethee be gon, and don't discredit us. The King loves
no Garbidge-tubbes.

Mol.

The King shall be inform'd of the fowle words you
give his Officers.

Stra.

Why what can he doe? he won't let us goe and

conquer us againe, will he?

Leoc.

But good honest Landlord, what's the Kings intent
to honour us with his Royall visit?

Archip.

To assigne us perhaps some three or foure hundred
stripes a day a peece, to take downe my Landlord's body,
and make him in case to suffer what he hath beene long
adjudg'd to.

Mol.

No, Saucines, 'tis to make one of you King.

Arch.

Then, Saucines, know your Masters.

Mol.

Be not mistaken: 'tis not any way to honour you,
but to make himselfe sport. For you must know, that tis the
custome of the Persian Kings after a Conquest, to take one
of the Captives, and adorne him with all the Robes of Majesty,
giving him all Priviledges for three full dayes, that
hee may doe what hee will, and then be certainly led to
death.

Phil.

Will he allow so long? I'd give my life at any
time for one dayes Royalty; 'tis space enough to new mould
a Kingdome. His Majesty useth us wondrous reasonably; I'd
as liffe deale with him as any man I know. But who's to have
our cloaths, Sirrah, when we have done?

Mol.

'Tis a small fee that the State hath entayl'd upon
my Place an't please you.

Phil.

By my troth I guess'd so: I was wondring how
their Courtiers could goe so brave with so little meanes.

Stra.

Well, what must be, must be. I was affraid I should
have dy'd a silly foolish old Animal, call'd Virgin. But now,
have at one of the Ladyes e're I goe: I have a strong desire
to leave some Posterity behind me. I would not have the
house of the Stratocles decay for want of Issue.

Leoc.

If I have the fortune of't, I'le Revell it all night;
Kings they say, ought not to sleep for the good of the people.

Arch.

Sirrah Gaolor, see you send Mistris Turne-key your
wife to take us up whores enough: and be sure she let none
of the young Students of the Law fore-stall the Market.

Mol.

Peace, the King approaches: stand in your rankes
orderly, and shew your breeding; and be sure you blow nothing
on the Lords.