 | The VVitts |  |
Act. 3.
Scen. 1.
Enter Snore, Mistresse Snore, Queasie, and Watchmen.Mist. Snore.
Dayes o' my breath, I have not seene the like!
What would you have my husband doe? 'tis past
One by Boe, and the Bell-Man has gone twice!
Queasie.
Good Master Snore, you are the Constable,
You may doe it (as they say) be it right or wrong!
'Tis foure yeares rent, come Childermas Eve next!
Snore.
You see Neighbour Queasie the Dores are open;
Heere's no goods, no Bawde left; I'ld see the Bawde!
Mist. Snore.
I or the Whores; my husband's the Kings officer,
And still takes care I warrant yee of Bawdes,
And Whores! Shew him but a Whore at this time
O' night (Good man) you bring a bed i'faith!
Queasie.
I pray Mistresse Snore let him search the Parish,
They are not gone farre, I must have my rent;
I hope there are Whores, and Bawdes in the Parish!
Mist. Snore.
Search now? it is too late; a woman had
As good marry a Cowlestaffe as a Constable;
His Whores, and Bawds all day, and never comfort
His Wife at night: I prethee Lambe let us to Bed!
Snore.
It must be late; for Gossip Nock the Nayleman
Had chatechys'd his Maids, and sung three Catches,
And a Song, ere we set forth!
Queasie.
Good Mistresse Snore, forbeare your husband but
To night; and let the search goe on!
Mist. Snore.
I will not forbeare; you might ha' let your house
To honest women, not to Bawds! fie upon you!
Queasie.
Fie upon me! tis well knowne I'm the mother
Of Children! Scirvie Fleake! tis not for nought
You boyle Eggs in your Gruell, and your man Sampson
Owes my Sonne in law, the Surgeon, Ten groats
For Turpentine; which you have promis'd to pay
Out of his Christmasse Box.
Mist. Snore.
I defie thee.
Remember thy first calling, thou setst up
With a Peck of Damsens, and a new Sive;
When thou broakst at Dowgate corner, 'cause the Boyes
Flung downe thy ware!
Snore.
Keepe the peace Wife! keepe the peace!
Mist. Snore.
I will not peace; she tooke my silver Thimble
To pawne, when I was a Maid; I paid her
A penny a moneth use!
Queasie.
A Maid? yes sure;
By that token, goody Tongue the Midwife,
Had a dozen Napkins o' your Mothers best
Diaper, to keepe silence; when she said
She left you at Saint Peters Faire, where you
Long'd for Pigge!
Snore.
Neighbour Queasie, this was not
In my time: what my Wife hath done, since I
Was Constable, and the Kings Officer,
Ile answer: therefore (I say) keepe the peace!
And when w'have search'd the two back rooms, Ile to bed!
Peace Wife! not a word!
Exeunt.
Enter Eld. Pallatine clothing himselfe in haste.
Eld. Pall.
Tis time to get on wings, and fly!
Here's a noyse of Thunder, Wolves, Women, Drums,
All that's confus'd, and frights the eare! I heard
Them cry out Bawds! the sweet young Lady is
Surpris'd sure, by the nice slave her husband;
And the good Gentlemen sh' employd to me
Are tortur'd, and call'd Bawds! If I am tane,
Ile sweare, I purpos'd her conversion.—
Enter Snore, Mist. Snore, Queasie, and Watchmen.
Snore.
Here's a Roome hung, and a faire Bed within,
I take it, there's the hee Bawd too.
Queasie.
Ceaze on the lewd thing!
I pray Master Snore, ceaze on the Goods too!
Mist. Snore.
Who would not be a Bawd? th'ave proper men
To their husbands; and she maintaines him
Like any parish Deputy.
Eld. Pall.
What are you?
Snore.
I am the Constable,
Eld. Pall.
Good, the Constable?
I begin to stroke my long eares, and find
I am an Asse! such a dull Asse, as deserves
Thistles for provander, and sawdust too
Insteed of Graines! O I am finely gull'd.
Mist. Snore.
Truely as proper a Bawd, as a woman
Would desire to use?
Eld. Pall.
Master Constable,
Though these your Squires o'th Blade and Bill seeme to
Be courteous Gentlemen, and well taught, yet
I would know, why they embrace me?
Snor.
You owe my neighbor (Mist. Queasie) foure yeares rent.
Queasie.
Yes and for three Bed Teekes and a Brasse Pot;
Which your Wife promis'd me to pay this Terme,
For now (she said) sh'expects her countrey Customers.
Eld. Pall.
My Wife! have I beene led to'th Altar too;
By some doughty Deacon, tane woman by
The pretty thumb, and given her a Ring
With my deare selfe, for better, and for worse,
And all in a forgotten dreame? But for whom
Doe you take me?
Snore.
For the he Bawd.
Eld. Pall.
Good faith, you may as soone,
Take me for a Whale, which is something rare
You know, o' this side the Bridge.
Mist. Snore.
Tis indeed!
Yet our Paul was in the belly of one,
In my Lord Majors Shew; and husband you remember,
He beckned you out of the Fishes mouth,
And you gave him a Pepin, for the poore soule
Had like t'have choak'd, for very thirst.
I saw it, and cry'd out
O'th City, 'cause they would not be at charge
To let the Fish swimme in a deeper Sea!
Mist. Snore.
Indeed; why I was but a tiny Girle then;
I pray how long have you beene a Bawde heere?
Eld. Pall.
Againe! how the Devil,
Am I chang'd, since my owne Glasse rendred me
A Gentleman: well, master Constable,
Though ev'ry Stall's your Worships wooden Throane,
Heere you are humble, and o' foote; therefore,
I will put on my Hatt; pray reach it me!—
misses his Diamond Hatband.
Death! my hatband! a row of Diamonds
Worth a thousand Markes! Nay, it is time then
To doubt, and tremble to. My Gold! my Gold!—
searches his Pockets.
And precious stones!
Mist. Snore.
Doe you suspect my Husband?
He hath no neede o'your stones, I prayse heaven!
Eld. Pallat.
A plague upon your courteous midnight Leaders!
Good silly Saints, they are dividing now,
And ministring (no doubt) unto the poore!
This will decline the reputation of
My Witt; till I be thought to have a lesse head
Then a Iustice o' Peace! If Morglay hear't,
He'le thinke me dull, as a Dutch Marriner!
No med'cine now from thought? Good! 'tis design'd!
Snor.
Come along! 'tis late.
Eld. Pall.
Whither must I goe?
Queasie.
To the Compter sir, unlesse my rent be payd!
Snore.
And for being a Bawde!
Eld. Pallat.
Confin'd in Wanscot Walls too,
Like a licorish Rat, for nibling
Unlawfully upon forbidden Cheese!
This to the other sawce, is Alloes and Mirrh!
But Master Constable doe you behold this Ring?
It is worth all the Bells in your Church steeple,
Though your Sexton, and Side-men hung there too,
To better the Peale.
Snor.
Well, what's your request?
Eld. Pall.
Mary, that you will let mee goe to fetch
The Bawd, the very Bawd, that owes this rent;
Who being brought, you shall restore my Ring:
Such as in's Scutchion gives Hornes, Hounds, and Hawkes,
Hunting Nags, with tall Enters in Blew Coats,
Sance Number!
Quea.
Pray let him goe Master Snore;
Wee'l stay and keepe the goods!
Mist. Snor.
Yes, let him Husband.
For I would faine see a very bee Bawd!
Snor.
Come Neighbors, light him out!
Exeunt.
Enter Yo: Pallatine, Ample, Pert, Luce, Ginet, Engine, with lights.
Ampl.
A Forrest full of Palmes, thy Lover (Luce)
Merits in Girlands for his victory.
I'm wild with joy! why there was wit enough
In this designe to bring a Ship o' fooles
To shore agen, and make them all good Pilots!
Yo: Pall.
Madam, this Gentleman deserves to share
In your kind praise, hee was a merry Agent
In the whole plot, and would exalt himselfe
To your Ladiships service: If you please
For my humble sake, unto your Lip too!—
Pert salutes her.
Ampl.
Sir you are friend to Pallatine,
And that entitles you unto much worth.
Pert.
The title will be better'd (Madam) when
I am become a Servant to your beauty.
Lucy.
Why your confederate Pert, is courtly too;
Hee will out-tongue a Favorite of France!
But didst thou leave thy Brother surfetting
On lewd hopes?
Yo: Pall.
Hee belives all woman kind
Dress'd, and ordain'd for th'mercy of his Tooth!
Ampl.
And now lies stretch'd in his smooth slipperie sheets!
Yo: Pall,
O like, a wanton Snake on Camamile!
And rifled to so sad remaines of wealth,
That if his resolution still disdaine
Suppliment from his Lands, and hee resolve
To live here by his Wits; hee will ere long
Betroth himselfe to Raddish women for
Their roots; pledge Children in their sucking Bottles,
And in darke winter Mornings, rob small School-boyes
Of their Honey, and their Bread!
Pert.
Faith, Meager and I, us'd him with as much
Remorse, as our occasions could allow:
Have our occasions too!
Yo: Pall.
What (Madam) need he care?
For let him but prove kind unto his Buls,
Bring them their Heifers when their Crests are high;
Stroake his faire Ewes, and pimpe a little for
His Rammes; they strait will multiply; and then
The next great Faire, prepares him fit agen,
For'th Cities view, and our surprise.
Amp.
Why this young Gentleman hath relish in't!
Yet when you understand the darke, and deepe
Contrivements which my selfe, Engine, and Luce,
Have layd for this great witty Villager,
To whom you bow as formost of your blood;
You will degrade your selves from all prerogatives,
Above our Sexe, and all those pretty Markes
Of Manhood (your trim beards) sindge oft with Tapers,
As a just Sacrifice to our Supremacie!
Luce.
If Sir Tirant Thrift, your Phlegmatick Guerdian
Leave but this Mansion ours till the next Sunne,
We'le make your haughty brother tremble at
The name of Woman, and blush behinde a Fanne
Like a yawning Bride, that hath fowle Teeth!
Engine.
Madame, tis time you were a Bedd; for sure besides
The earnest invitation which I left,
Writ in his Chamber, these afflictions will
Disturbe his rest, and bring him early hither
To recover his sicke hopes.—
Enter Meager.
Yo. Pall.
Meager! What newes? Madam, the homage of
Your Lip agen; A Man o' Warre believ't;
One that hath fasted in the face of's foe;
Seene Spinola entrench'd; sometimes hath spread
His butter at the States charge; sometimes too,
Fedd on a Sallad that hath growne upon
The Enemies owne Land; but pardon me,
Without or Oyle, or Vineger!
Ample.
Sir, Men in choler may doe any thing.
Meager.
Your Ladiship will excuse his new plenty;
It hath made him pleasant.
Yo. Pall.
Meager! what newes? how doe our Spies prosper?
Sir rare discoveries! I've trac'd your Brother;
You shall heare more anon!
Ginet.
Your Ladiship forgets how carely your
Designes will waken you?
Edgine.
Madam, I'ld faine be
Bold too, to hasten you unto your rest!
Amp.
'Tis late (indeed) the silence of the Night
And sleep be with you Gentlemen!
Exeunt. Ample, Ginet: Engine
Yo. Pall.
Madam, good night: but our heads never were
Ordain'd to so much triviall leasure as
To sleepe: you may as soone entreat
A Sexton sleepe in's Bellfry when the Plague reignes;
An aged Sinner in a Tempest, or
A jealous States man when his Prince is dying!
Luce.
Pray dismisse your friends, I would speake with you.
Yo. Pall.
Men o' the puissant Pike, follow the lights.—
Exeunt Meager, Pert.
Luce.
Pall, you are as good natur'd to me Pall,
As the wife of a silenc'd Minister,
Is to a Monarchy, or to lewd Gallants,
That have lost a Nose!
Yo. Pall.
And why so Dame Luce!
Luce.
So many yellow Images at once
Assembled in your fist, and Iewels too
Of goodly price, all this free booty got,
In lawfull warre, and I no tribute Pall?
Yo. Pall.
What neede it Luce? a Virgin may live cheape:
Th'are maintain'd with as small charge as a Wren
With Magots, in a Cheesemongers shop?
Luce.
Well Pall, and yet you know all my extreames?
How for a little Taffata to line
A Maske, I'm faine to mollifie my Mercer
With a soft whisper, and a tim'rous blush;
To sigh unto my Millener for Gloves;
That they may trust, and not complaine unto my Aunt;
Who is as jealous of me as their wives, and all
Through your demeanor Pall; whose kindnesse I
Perceive, will raise me to such dignitie,
That I must teach Children in a darke Cellar,
Or worke Coifes in a Garret for crackt Groates,
And broken meat!
Yo. Pall.
Luce, I will give thee Luce, to buy
Luce.
What Pall.
Yo. Pall.
An ounce of Arsnick to mixe in thy Aunts Caudels,
Seal'd t'her last winke, as if she clos'd her eyes
T'avoyd the sight of Feathers, Coaches, and short Cloakes!
Luce.
How many Angels of your Family
Are there in heaven? but few I feare, and how,
You'le be the first, that shall intitle them
To such high calling, is to me a doubt!
Yo. Pallat.
Why is there never a Pue there (Luce) but for
Your coughing Aunt, and you?
Luce.
Hadst thou eyes like flaming Beacons, crook'd hornes,
A tayle three yards long, and thy feet Cloven,
Thou couldst not be more a Fiend, then thou art now;
But to advance thy sinnes with being hard,
And costive unto me!
Yo. Pall.
You lie Luce! you lie!—
Flings her a Purse.
There's Gold! the Fairies are thy Mintmen Girle,
Of this thou shalt have store enough, to make
The hungry Academicks mention thee,
In Evening Lectures, with aplause, and prayer:
A Foundresse thou shalt be.
Luce.
Of Hospitals;
For your decayed selfe, Meager, and Pert,
Those wealthy Vsurers, your poore friends.
Yo: Pall.
A Nunn'ry Luce, where all the female issue
Of our decay'd Nobility shall live
Thy Pensioners: it will preserve them from
Such want, as makes them quarter Armes with th'City,
And match with sawcie Haberdashers Sons,
Whose Fathers liv'd in Allyes, and darke Lanes!
Luce.
Good night Pall! your gold Ile lay up; though but
T'incounter the next Surgeons Bill; yet know
Our Wits are ploughing too, and in a ground
That yields as faire a graine as this!
Yo: Pall.
Farewell, and let mee heare thy Aunt is stuck
With more Bay leaves and Rose-mary, than a
Westphalia Gammon.
Exeunt.
Enter Elder Pallatine, and Thwack, dressing himselfe.
Eld. Pall.
Quick, dispatch Knight! thou art as tedious in
Thy dressing, as a Court Bribe; two ships might
Be rigg'd for the Straits, in lesse space than thou
Carienst that same old Hulke, can it be thought
Could be subdu'd with sleepe, what dull, and drowsie?
Keepe earlier howers than a roost Hen in Winter?
Thwack.
Pallatine, the designe grew all Dreame, Magick,
And Alchymie to mee: I gave it lost!
Clove to my soft Pillow, like a warme Iustice,
And slept there with lesse noyse than a dead Lawyer
In a Monument.
Eld: Pall.
This is the house; dispatch, that I may knock.
Thwack.
S'light stay, thou think'st I've the dexterity
Of a Spaniell, that with a yawne, a scratch
On his left eare, and stretching his hind legs,
Is ready for all day: O for the Biscayne sleeve,
And Bulloigne hose, I wore when I was shrieve,
In Eighty Eight!
Eld. Pall.
Faith thou art comely Knight!
And I already see the Towne Girles melt,
And thaw before thee.
Thwack.
Wee must be content!
Thou knowst all men are bound to were their limbs
I'th same skin that Nature bestowes upon them;
Be it rough or be it smooth; for my part,
If she to whom you lead me now like not
The graine of mine, I will not flea my selfe,
T'humor the touch of her Ladi-ships fingers!
Eld: Pall.
Well I had thought t'have carry'd it with Youth,
But when I came to greet her beauties with
The Eyes of Love and wonder, shee despis'd mee,
Rebuk'd those haughty Squires, her Servants that
Convay'd mee thither in mistake, and cry'd,
She meant the more Authentick Gentleman,
The rev'rend Mounsier, shee!
Thwack.
The rev'rend Mounsier?
Why does shee take mee for a French Deane?
Eld. Pal.
Her Confessor at least, her secrets are
Thine owne; but by what Charmes attain'd;
Let him determine that has read Agrippa.
Thw.
Charms? yes Sir, if this be a Charm—or this—
leaps and frisks.
Or here againe t'advance th'activity
Of a poore old back!
Eld. Pall.
No Ape, Sir Morglay,
After a yeeres obedience to the Whip,
Is better quallify'd!
Thw.
Limber, and sound Sir!
Besides, I sing, little Musgrove; and then
If shee be t'ane with these, why at her perill bee't!
Eld: Pall.
Come Sir, dispatch! He knock, for here's the house.
Thwack.
Stay, stay! this Lane (sure) has no great renowne!
The house too, if the Moone reveal't aright,
May for it's small Magnificence be left
(For ought we know) out of the Cittie Map!
Eld. Pall.
Therein consists the Miracle, and when
The doores shall ope, and thou behold, how leane
And ragged ev'ry roome appeares, till thou
Hast reach'd the Sphære, where shee (Illustrious) moves,
Thy wonder will be more perplex'd; for know
This Mansion is not hers, but a conceal'd
Retirement, which her wisedome safely chose
To hide her loose love.
Thwack.
Give mee a Bagadg that has braines! but Pallatine,
Did not I at first perswade thee, those two
Trim Gentlemen, her Squires, might happily
Mistake the person unto whom the message was
Dispos'd; and that my selfe was hee?
Eld: Pall.
Thou didst! and thou hast got (Knight) by this hand
I thinke, the Mogul's Neece; shee cannot be
Of lesse discent, the height and strangenesse of
Her port, denote her forraigne, and of great blood!
Thwack.
What should the Mogul's Neece doe here?
Eld. Pall.
'Las thy Eares are buried in a Wool-sack;
Thou hear'st no Newes! 'tis all the voyce in Court,
That shee is sent hither in disguise, to learne
To play on the Gitarh, and make Almond Butter!
But whether this great Lady that I bring
Thee too, be shee; is yet not quite confirm'd!
Thwack.
Thou talk'st o'th high, and strange comportment that
Thou found'st her in!
Eld: Pall.
Right Sir! she sat on a rich Persian Quilt,
Thridding a Carckanet, of pure, round Pearle,
Bigger than Pidgeons Egges!
Thwack.
Those I will sell!
Eld: Pall.
Her Maids with little Rods of Rose-marie,
And stalks of Lavander, were brushing Ermines skins;
Thw.
Furres for the Winter! Ile line my Breeches with them!
Eld. Pall.
Her young smooth Pages lay, round at her feet;
The Caster six Wedges a Cubit long
Cries one; another comes a Tun of Pistolets;
And then is cover'd with an Argosie,
Laden with Indico, and Cutchy nill!
Thwack.
This must be the great Mogul's Neece!
Eld. Pal.
As for her Groomes, they all were planted on
Their knees, carowsing their great Ladies health
In perfum'd Wines, and then straight quallify'd
Their wild, voluptuous heats with coole Cerbet,
The Turkes owne Iulip?
Thw.
Knock, Pallatine!
Quick Rogue! I cannot hold. little thought I
The Thwack's of the North, should inoculate
With the Mogul's of the South!—
Pallatine knocks.
Enter Snore.
Eld. Pall.
Speake softly Master Constable, I've brought
The very hee Bawd!
Snor.
Blessing on your heart Sir!
My Watch are above at Trea Trip, for a
Black Pudding, and a pound o' Suffolke Cheese;
They'l ha'done straight: Pray fetch him to mee,
Ile call them downe, and lead him to a by-roome!
Thw.
Pallatine, what's he?
Eld. Pall.
The Ladies steward sir,
A sage Phylosopher, and a grave Pandar!
One that hath writ bawdy Sonnets in Hebrew,
And those so well, that if the Rabbins were
Alive, 'tis thought hee would corrupt their Wives.
Follow mee Knight!—
Thw.
Pallatine,
Halfe the large Treasure that I get is yours!
Eld: Pal.
Good faith (my friend) when you are once possess'd
Of all, 'tis as your Conscience will vouchsafe.
Thwack.
Do'st thou suspect? Ile stay here till thou fetch
A Bible, and a Cushion, and sweare kneeling!
Eld: Pal.
My Faith shall rather couzen mee; walke in
With this Phylosopher—No words! for hee's
A Pythagorian and Professes silence!
My Ring Master Constable—
Snore gives him his Ring, then Exit with Thwack.
Here yet my Reputation's safe! should hee
Have heard of my mischance, and not accompany'd
With this defeat upon himselfe, his Mirth
And Tyranny had beene 'bove humane Sufferance!
Lookes on mee with strong fervent Eyes; shee's rich;
And could I worke her into profit, 'twould
Procure my Wit, immortall memory;
But to be gull'd? and by such Trifles too;
Dull, humble Gentlemen that nere drunke Wine,
But on some Coronation day, when each
Conduit pisses Clarret at the Towne charge!
Well, though tis worse than Steele or Marble to
Digest; yet I have learn'd, one stop in a
Careire, taints not a Rider with disgrace;
But may procure him breath to win the race.
Exit.
| The VVitts | |