 | The Ordinary |  |
Scen. I.
Hearesay, Slicer, Shape, Meanewell.Hear.
We're made my Boys, we're made; me thinks I am
Growing into a thing that will be worship'd.
Slic.
I shall sleep one day in my Chaine, and Skarlet
At Spittle-Sermon.
Shap.
Were not my wit such
I'd put out monies of being Maior.
But O this braine of mine! that's it that will
Barre me the City Honour.
Hear.
We're cry'd up
O'th' sudden for the sole Tutors of the Age.
Shap.
Esteem'd discreet, sage, trainers up of youth.
Hear.
Our house becomes a place of Visit now.
Slic.
In my poore judgement 'tis as good my Lady
Should venture to commit her eldest sonne
To us, as to the Inns of Court: hee'l be
Undone here only with lesse Ceremony.
2
Speak for our credit my brave man of War.
What Meane-well, why so lumpish?
Mean.
Pray y' be quiet.
Hear.
Thou look'st as if thou plott'st the calling in
O'th' Declaration, or th' Abolishing
O'th' Common-Prayers; cheare up; say something for us.
Mean.
Pray vexe me not.
Slic.
These foolish puling sighs
Are good for nothing, but to endanger Buttons.
Take heart of grace man.
Mean.
Fie y'are troublesome.
Hear.
Nay fare you well then Sir.
[Ex. Hea. Sli. Sha.
Mean.
My Father still
Runs in my mind, meets all my thoughts, and doth
Mingle himselfe in all my Cogitations,
Thus to see eager villaines drag along
Him, unto whom they crouch'd; to see him hal'd,
That ne'r knew what compulsion was, but when
His vertues did incite him to good deeds,
And keep my sword dry—O unequall Nature!
Why was I made so patient as to view,
And not so strong as to redeeme? why should I
Dare to behold, and yet not dare to rescue?
Had I been destitute of weapons, yet
Arm'd with the only name of Son, I might
Have outdone wonder. Naked Piety
Dares more than Fury well-appointed; Bloud
Being never better sacrific'd, than when
It flowes to him that gave it. But alas,
The envy of my Fortune did allow
That only, which she could not take away,
Compassion; that which was not in those savage,
And knowing Beasts; those Engines of the Law,
That even kill as uncontroul'd, as that.
How doe I grieve, when I consider from
3
Th' indulgent Prison; shackles being here
A kind of Rescue. Young man tis not well
To see thy aged Father thus confin'd,
Good, good old man; alas thou'rt dead to me,
Dead to the world, and only living to
That which is more than death, thy misery:
The Grave could be a comfort: And shall I—
O would this Soule of mine—But Death's the wish
Of him that feares; hee's lazie that would dye.
I'le live and see that thing of wealth, that worme
Bred out of splendid mucke; that Citizen
Like his owne sully'd Wares throwne by into
Some unregarded corner, and my Piety
Shall be as famous as his Avarice;
His Son whom we have in our Tuition
Shall be the Subject of my good Revenge;
I'le count my selfe no child, till I have done
Something thats worth that name: my Braine shall be
Busie in his undoing; and I will
Plot ruine with Religion; his disgrace
Shall be my Zeales contrivement; and when this
Shall stile me Son againe, I hope 'twill be
Counted not wrong, but Duty. When that time
Shall give my Actions growth, I will cast off
This brood of Vipers: and will shew that I
Doe hate the Poyson, which I meane t'apply.
Exit.
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