 | The VVitts |  |
Act. 4.
Scen. 1.
Enter Yo: Pallatine, Engine, Meager, Pert, Pallatine richly cloath'd.Engin.
Your Brother's in the house; the Letter which
I sent to tempt him hither wrought above
The reach of our desires; My Lady Sir,
Hee does believe is sicke to death; and all,
In languishment for his deare love.
Yo: Pall.
Pert, and Meager, though you have both good faces,
They must not be seene here; there is below,
A Brother o'mine; whom (I take it) you
Have us'd not overtenderlie.
Meag.
S'light he must needs remember us!
Pert.
Wee'l sooner stay t'out-face a Basiliske!
Whither shall wee goe?
Yo: Pall.
To Snore the Constable: Morglay is still
A Pris'ner in his house; take order for's
Release, as I projected, but (d'you heare)
Hee must not free him till I come.
Pert.
Pall, will the dull Ruler of the night (Pall)
Obay thy Edict!
Yo: Pall.
His wife will, and she's his Constable!
Name mee but to her, and shee does homage!
Meag.
Enough, wee will attend thee there!
Engin.
This way Gentlemen.
Exeunt Engine, Pert, Meager.
Enter Elder Pallatine.
Eld: Pal.
What's this, an apparition, a Ghost imbroider'd?
Sure he has got the Devill for his Taylor.
Good morrow Brother, Morrow!
Eld. Pall.
You are in glory sir, I like this flourishing!
The Lilly too, lookes handsome for a Month;
But you (I hope) will last out the whole yeare!
Yo. Pall.
What flourishing? O Sir, belike you meane
My Cloathes; th'are Ragges, course homely Ragges, beleev't;
Yet they will serve for'th Winter sir, when I
Ride post in Sussex wayes!—
Eld. Pall.
This gayetie denotes
Some solitary treasure in the Pocket,
And so you may become a lender too;
You know, I'm farre from home!
Yo. Pall.
I'le lend nothing, but good Counsell, and Witt?
Eld. Pall.
Why, sure, you have no Factors sir, in Delph,
Lyghorne, Aleppo, or'th Venetian Iles,
That by their Traffique can advance you thus;
Nor doe you trade i'th City by retaile
In our small Wares: All that you get by Law,
Is but a dolefull Execution
After Arrest; and for your power in Court;
I know your stockings being on, you are
Admitted in the Presence.
Yo. Pall.
What does this inferre Brother?
Men of designe are chary of their Minutes,
Be quicke, and subtile!
Eld. Pall.
The Inf'rence is
You prosper by my documents; and what
You have atchiev'd must be, by your good Wits!
Yo. Pall.
If you had had a Sybill to your Nourse,
You could not (Sir) have aym'd neerer the truth.
I saw your Eares and Baggs, were shut to all
Intents of bounty; therefore was inforc'd
Into this way; and 'twas at first somewhat
Against my Conscience too!
Eld. Pall.
If not to vex
The zealous spirit in you, I would know why?
Yo: Pal.
Good faith I've search'd Records, and cannot find
That Magna Charta does allow a Subject
To live by his Wits; there is no Statute for't!
Eld. Pall.
Your Common Lawyer was no Antiquary!
Yo. Pal.
And then (credit me Sir) the Canons of
The Church authorize no such thing.
You have met with a dull Civillian too!
Yo: Pall.
Yet Brother, these impediments cannot
Choke up my way; I must still on!
Eld: Pall.
And you believe the Stories of young heires
Enforc'd to signe at Mid-night to appease
The Sword Mans wrath, may be out-done by you!
Yo: Pall.
I were unkind else, to my owne good parts!
Eld: Pal.
And that your Wit has power to tempt from the
Severe, grave Bench, the Aldermen themselves,
To rifle where you please, for Skarfes, Feathers,
And for Race Nags!
Yo: Pal.
It is believ'd Sir, in a trice!
Eld: Pal.
And that your wit can lead our rev'rend Matrons,
And testy Widowes of fourscore, to scale
(And in their smocks) for fraile commodities
To elevate your Punke?
Yo: Pal.
All this Sir, is so easie,
My Faith would swallow't, though t'had a sore throat!
Eld: Pal.
Give mee thy hand! This day Ile cut off the entaile
Of all my Lands, and dis-inherit thee!
Yo: Pall.
Will you Sir? I thanke yee!
Eld: Pal.
But marke mee Brother; for there's Iustice in't,
Admits of no reproofe; what should you doe
With Land, that have a Portion in your braine,
Above all Legacies or heritage?
Yo: Pal.
I conceive you!
Eld: Pal.
O to live here, i'th faire Metropolis
Of our great Isle, a free Inheritor
Of ev'ry modest, or voluptuous wish,
Thy young desires can breath; and not oblieg'd
To'th Plough-mans toyles, or lazie Reapers swet;
To make the world thy Farme, and ev'ry Man
Lesse witty than thy selfe, Tennant for life;
These are the glories that proclaime a true
Phylosophie, and Soule, in him that climbes
To reach them with neglect of Fame and Life!
Yo: Pal.
He carries it bravely! As he had felt
Nothing that fits his owne remorse; but know,
Sir Eagle, th'higher that you flye, the lesse
You will appeare to us, dim sighted Fowle,
That flutter here below. Brother, farewell!
They say, the Lady of this house, groanes for
Your pride beguile your profit!
Exit.
Eld: Pall.
I suspect him! Not all the skill I have
In Reason, or in Nature can pronounce
Him free, from the defeat upon my Gold,
And Iewels! 'twas like a Brother! but for
His two Confederates; though I should meet
Them in a Mist, darker than Night, or Southerne Fens
Produce, my Eies would be so courteous sure,
To let mee know them!
Enter Ample, caried in as sicke in a Couch, Luce, Engine, Ginet.
Engin.
Roome! More ayre! if heav'nly Ministers
Have leasure to consider or assist
The best of Ladies, let them shew it now!—
Luce.
How doe you Madam? Oh, I shall lose
The chiefe example of internall love
Of gentle grace, and feature, that the world
Did ever shew, to dignifie our Sex!
Eng.
Work on! I must stand Sentinell beneath!
Exit.
Eld: Pal.
Is her disease growne up to such extremitie?
Then it is time, I seeme to suffer too;
Or else my hopes will prove sicker than shee!
Luce.
More cruell than the Panthar on his prey!
Why speake you not? no comfort from your Lips;
You Sir that are the cause of this sad hower!
Gin.
He stands as if his Legs had taken root;
A very Mandrake!
Eld: Pall.
How comes it (Lady) all these Beauties that
But yesterday did seeme to teach
The Spring to flourish and rejoyce, so soone
Are wither'd from our sight.
Amp.
It is in vaine, t'inquire the reason of
That griefe, whose remedy is past; had you
But felt so much remorse, or softnesse in
Your heart, as would have made you nobly just,
And pittifull; the Mourners of this day
Had wanted then, their Dead to weepe upon!
Eld. Pall.
Am I the cause? forbid it gentle heaven!
The Virgins of our Land, when this is told,
Will raze the Monumentall building, where
Before the sportive windes, till I am blowne
About in parcels lesse then Eie-sight can
Discerne!
Luce.
Shee listens to you sir?
Eld. Pal.
If I am guilty of neglect;
Give me a taste of dutie, name how farre
I shall submit to love! the mind hath no
Disease above recovery, if wee
Have courage to remove dispaire!
Ample.
O sir, the pride and scornes, with which you first
Did entertaine my passions, and regard,
Have worne my easie heart away; my breast
Is emptier than mine Eies; that have distill'd
Their Balls to Funerall Dew! It is too late!
Luce.
Ginet, my feares have in them too much Prophecie,
I told thee shee would nere recover!
Ginet.
For my poore part, I wish no easier Bed
At night, then the cold grave where she must lie!
Amp.
Luce, Luce! intreat the Gentleman to sit!
Luce.
Sit neere her sir! You heare her voyce growes weake!
Ample.
That you may see your scornes could not perswade
My love, to thoughts of danger or revenge;
The faint remainder of my breath, Ile waste
In Legacies, and Sir to you, you shall
Have all, the Lawes will suffer me to give!
Eld. Pall.
Who, I? sweet Saint, take heed of your last deeds!
Your bounty carries cunning Murder in't;
I shall be kill'd with kindnesse, and depart
Weeping, like a fond Infant, whom the Nurse
Would sooth, too early to his bed!
Luce.
Nay Sir, no remedy, you must have all:
Though you procur'd her death; the world shall not
Report; she dy'd beholding to you!
Ginet.
Goe to her Sir, she'ld speake with you agen!
Ample.
Sir, if mine Eies, in all their health and glory,
Had not the power to warme you into Love,
Where are my hopes, now they are dimme, and have
Almost forgot the benefit of light!
Eld. Pal.
Not love! Lady! Queene of my heart! what oathes
Or execrations can perswade your faith
Ampl.
I'd have some testimony Sir; if but
T'assure the world, my love, and bounty at
My death, were both conferr'd on one, that shew'd
So much requitall, as declares he was
Of Gentle humane race!
Eld. Pall.
What shall I doe?
Prescribe mee dangers now, horrid as those
Which Mid-night fires beget, in Citties overgrowne;
Or Winter stormes produce at Sea, and try
How far my love will make mee venture to
Augment th'esteeme of yours!
Ampl.
That triall of your love which I request
Implies no danger Sir; 'tis not in mee
T'urge any thing, but what your owne desires
Would chuse!
Eld: Pall.
Name it! like eager Mastiffs, chain'd
From the encounter of their game, my hot
Fierce appetite diminisheth my strength!
Ampl.
'Tis onely this: for feare some other should
Enjoy you when I'm cold, in my last sleepe;
I would intreat you to sit heare, grow sick,
Languish, and dye with mee!
Eld: Pall.
How! dye with you!
Takes Luce aside.
'Twere fit, you hastned her to write downe all
Shee can bestow, and in some forme of Law:
I feare, shee's mad! her sences are so lost,
Shee'l never find them to her use agen!
Luce.
I pray Sir why?
Eld. Pall.
Did you not heare what a fantastick sute
Shee makes, that I would sit and dye with her?
Luce.
Does this request seeme strange? you will doe little
For a Lady, that deny to bring her
Onward her last journey; or is't your thrift?
Alas you know, soules travell without charge!
Eld: Pall.
Her little skull is tainted too!
Ampl.
Is hee not willing Luce?
Eld. Pall.
My best deare Lady, I am willing to
Resigne my selfe to any thing but death!
Doe not suspect my kindnesse now; In troth
I've businesse upon Earth will hold me here
At least a score or two of yeares; but when
Amp.
If this perswasion cannot reach at your
Consent; yet let mee witnesse so much love
In you, as may enforce you languish, and
Decay, for my departure from your sight.
Luce.
Can you doe lesse than languish for her death?
Sit downe here, and begin! true sorrow Sir,
If you have any in your brest will quickly
Bring you low enough!
Eld. Pall.
Alas good Ladies! do you think my languishment
And griefe is to begin upon mee now?
Heaven knowes how I have pin'd, and groan'd, since first
Your letter gave mee knowledge of the cause!
Luce.
It is not seene Sir in your face!
Eld. Pall.
My face! I grant you; I bate inwardly!
I'm scorch'd, and dry'd, with sighing to a Mummie:
My Heart, and Liver are not big enough
To choke a Daw! A Lamb layd on the Altar for
A sacrifice hath much more entrailes in't!
Luce.
Yet still, your sorrow alters not your face?
Eld. Pall.
Why no, I say! No man, that ever was
Of Natures making hath a face moulded
With lesse helpe for hypocrisie than mine!
Ginet.
Great pitty Sir!
Eld. Pall.
Though I endur'd the Diet and the Flux;
Lay seven dayes buried up to'th Lips like a
Deceas'd sad Indian in warme sand; whilst his
Afflicted Female wipes his salt foame off
With her owne haire, feeds him with Buds of Guacum
For his salad; and Pulpe of Salsa for
His Bread; I say, all this endur'd, would not
Concerne my face! Nothing can decline that!
Amp.
Yet you are us'd Sir, to bate inwardly!
Eld. Pall.
More than heires unlanded, or unjoynter'd Wives.
Enter Engine.
Engin.
What shall wee doe? Sir Tirant Thrift's come home!
Eld. Pall.
Sir Tirant Thrift!
Luce.
My Ladies Guardian Sir!
Amp.
He meets th'expected hower, just to my wish!
Luce.
What, hath hee brought a husband for my Lady?
Engin.
There is a certaine one legg'd Gentleman,
Kind Nature did provide no hands, to prevent
Stealing; and to augment his gracefulnesse,
Hee's crooked as a Witches Bin!
Luce.
Is he so much wood?
Engin.
So much, that if my Lady were in health,
And married to him, as her Guardian did
Propose, wee should have an excellent generation
Of Bed-staves.
Luce.
When does hee come?
Engin.
To night if his slow Litter will consent;
For they convay him tenderly, lest his
Sharpe bones should grate together: Sir Pallatine,
I wish you could escape my Masters sight!
Eld. Pall.
Is hee comming hither?
Engin.
Hee's at the doore! My Ladies sicknesse was
No sooner told him, but hee straight projects
To proffer her a Will of his owne making!
Hee meanes Sir to be heire of all: if hee
Should see you here, hee would suspect my loyaltie,
And doubt you for some cunning Instrument,
That meanes to interrupt his covetous hopes!
Eld. Pall.
Then Ile be gon.
Engin.
No Sir, hee needs must meet you in
Your passage downe! besides, it is not fit
For you, and your great hopes, with my dependancie
On both, to have you absent when my Lady dyes;
I know you must have all: Sir I could wish
That wee might hide you here!—
Draw out the Chest within, that's big enough
To hold you: it were dangerous to have
My Ladies Guardian to find you Sir!—
They draw in a Chest.
Eld. Pall.
How! layd up like a brush'd Gowne, under lock
And key! By this good light, not I!
Luce.
O Sir, if but to save the honour of
Your Mistris fame, what will hee thinke to see
So comely, and so straight a Gentleman
Converse here with a Lady in her Chamber!
And in a time that makes for his suspition too,
When hee's from home!
Eld. Pall.
I hate enclosure, I;
It is the humor of a distress'd Rat!
Ginet.
It is retirement Sir, and you'l come forth
Ampl.
Sir Pallatine!—
Luce.
Your Lady cals Sir, to her, and be kind!
Amp.
Will you permit the last of all my howers
Should be defil'd with Infamie, proclaim'd
By lewder Tongues, to be unchaste ev'n at
My death? what will my Guardian guesse to find
You here?
Eld. Pal.
No more, Ile in! but think on't gentle Lady!
First to bate inwardly, and then to have
My outward person shut thus and inclos'd
From day light, and your company; I say
But thinke, if't be not worse than death!—
He enters the Chest.
Amp.
Locke him up Luce, safe as thy Mayden-head!—
Enter Sir Tirant Thrift.
Thrift.
Engine, where's my charge Engine, my deare charge?
Engin.
Sick as I told you Sir, and lost to all
The hope, that earthly med'cine can procure!
Her Physitions have taken their last fees,
And then went hence shaking their empty heads,
As they had left lesse braine than hope!
Thrift.
Alas poore Charge! come, let me see her Engine!
Luc.
At distance Sir, I pray, for I have heard
Your breath is somewhat sowre, with overfasting Sir,
On Holy-day Eeves!
Thrift.
Ha! what is shee Engine?
Engin.
A pure, good soule, one that your Ward desir'd
For love and kindreds sake, t'have neere her at
Her death; shee'l outwatch a long Rush Candle,
And reades to her all night the Posie of
Spirituall Flowers!
Thrift.
Does she not gape for Legacies?
Engin.
Fye no! there's a Cornelian Ring, perhaps
Shee aimes at, cost Ten Groats; or a wrought Smock,
My Lady made now 'gainst her wedding Sir;
Trifles which Maids desire to weepe upon
With Fun'rall Tales, after a Midnight Possit.
Thrift.
Thou saydst below, shee hath made mee her heire.
Engin.
Of all, ev'n to her Slippers and her Pins!
Amp.
Luce, me thought Luce, I heard my Guardeans voyce!
Engin.
It seemes her senses are growne warme agen;
Your presence will recover her!
Thrift.
Will it recover her, then Ile be gon!
Engin.
No Sir, shee'l straight grow cold agen! On! on!
Thrift.
Alas poor Charge! I little thought to see
This dolefull day.
Amp.
Wee all are mortall Sir!
Thrift.
I've taken care, and labour, to provide
A Husband for thee; hee's in's Litter now,
Hastening to Towne; a fine young Gentleman!
Onely a little rumpled in the womb,
With fals his Mother tooke, after his making.
Amp.
Death is my husband now! but yet I thanke
You for your tender paines, and wish you would
Continue it in quiet governing my Legacies,
When I am past the power to see it Sir;
You shall enjoy all!
Thrift.
This will occasion more Church building;
And raising of new Hospitals; there were
Enow before; but Charge you'l have it so.
Amp.
Ile make Sir one request; which I have hope,
You'l grant in thankfulnesse to all my bounty!
Thrift.
O deare Charge! any thing! Your Couzen here
Shall witnesse the consent and Act,
Amp.
Because I would not have my vanities
Remaine, as fond examples to perswade
An imitation in those Ladies that
Succeed my youthfull Pride i'th Towne: my Plumes,
Fantastick Flowers, and Chaines: my haughty Rich
Embroideries: my gawdy Gownes, and wanton Iewels,
I have lock'd within a Chest!
Luce.
There Sir, there the Chest stands.
Ampl.
And I desire it may be buried with mee!
Thrift.
Engine, take care Engine, to see it done!
Ampl.
Now Sir, I beseech you leave mee: for 'twill
But make my death more sorrowfull, thus to
Continue my converse with one, I so
Much love, and must forsake at last.
Thrift.
Alack, alack! bury her to night Engine!
Engin.
Not Sir, unlesse shee dies. Her Ancestors
Have sojourn'd long here in St. Bartholmewes,
And there's a Vault i'th Parish Church, kept only
For her Family; shee must be buried there.
Thrift.
I Engine, I, and let mee see; the Church
From a large walke; 'twill save the charge of Torch-light.
Engin.
What Fun'rall Ghests? the neighbours Sir, will looke
To be invited!
Thrift.
No more than will suffise
To carry downe the Corps; and thou knowst Engine,
Shee is no great weight.
Engin.
And what to entertaine them Sir?
Thrift.
A little Rose-marie, which thou mayst steale
From th'Temple Garden; and as many Comfits
As might serve to Christen a Watch-mans Bastard:
Twill be enough!
Engin.
This will not doe! Your Citizen
Is a most fierce devourer Sir of Plums!
Six will destroy as many as can make
A Banquet for an Armie!
Thrift.
Ile have no more, Engine.
Ile have no more! nor (d'you heare) no Burnt wine;
I doe not like this drinking healths to'th memory
O'th dead; it is prophane.
Engin.
You are obay'd!
But Sir, let mee advise you now to trust
The care, and benefit of all your fate
Presents you in this house, to my discretion;
And get you instantly to horse agen.
Thrift.
Why Engine, speake?
Engin.
In briefe, you know, that all
The Writings which concerne your Wards estate,
Lye at her Lawyers, fifteene Miles from hence!
Your credit, hee not knowing (Sir) shee's sick,
Will eas'ly tempt them to your owne Possession:
Which, once injoy'd, y'are free from all litigious sutes
His envie might incense her Kindred to!
Thrift.
Enough Engine, I am gone!
Engin.
If you should meet the crooked Lover in
His Litter Sir (as 'tis in your owne rode)
You may perswade him move like a Crab, backward;
For here's no mixture, but with wormes.
Thrift.
'Tis well thought on Engine! farewell Engine!
Be faithfull, and be rich!—
Engin.
My breeding and
Good manners Sir, teach mee t'attend your bounty!
Thrift.
But Engine, I could wish, shee would be sure
Engin.
Alas good Soule! Ile vndertake
Shee shall doe any thing to please you Sir!
Exit Thrift.
Ampl.
Engine, thou hast wrought above the power
Of Accident, or Art!
Engin.
If you consider't with a just
And lib'rall braine: first, to prevent
Th'accesse, and tedious visits of the Fiend
His love-sick Monster; and then rid him hence,
Vpon a journey to preserve this house
Empty, and free to celebrate the rest
Of our designes!
Luce.
This Engine, is thy Holly-day!—
Luce knocks at the Chest.
What hoa! Sir Pallatine, are you within?
Eld: Pall.
Is Sir Tirant Thrift gone? open Lady! open!
Luce.
The Cazement Sir I will, a little to
Increase your witships allowance of aire!—
opens a wicket at th'end of the Chest.
But th'troth, for liberty of limbs, you may
As soone expect it in a Gally Sir,
After six Murders and a Rape!
Eld. Pall.
How, Lady of the Lawne!
Luce.
Sir Launcelot,
You may believ't, if your discreet faith please;
This Tenement is cheape; here you shall dwell,
Keepe home, and be no wanderer!
Eld. Pal.
The Pox take mee if I like this! sure when
Th'advice of th'Ancients is but ask'd, they'l say
I am now worse, than in the state of a Bawd!
Engin.
D'you know this Lady Sir?
Eld: Pall.
The Lady Ample!
Her vayle's off too! and in the lusty garb
Of health, and merriment! Now shall I grow
As modest as a snayle that in's affliction
Shrinks up himselfe, and's hornes into his shell,
Asham'd still to be seene.
Ampl.
Couldst thou believe,
Thou bearded Babe! thou dull ingenderer!
Male rather in the back, than in the braine,
That I could sicken for thy love? for th'cold
Society of a thin Northerne Wit!—
Eld: Pallatine sings.
Eld. Pal.
Then Troyains waile with great remorse,
The Greekes are lock'd i'th wooden horse!
Enter Yo: Pallatine.
Luce.
Pall, come in Pall! tis done! the spacious Man
Ample.
Your Brother's come to see you Sir!
Eld. Pa.
Brother! Mad Girles these couldst thou believ't sirrah!
I am Coffin'd up like a Salmon Pye,
New sent from Den'shire for a token! Come,
Breake up the Chest!
Yo. Pall.
Stay Brother! whose Chest is it?
El. Pall.
Thou'lt aske more questions then a Constable
In's sleepe! prethee dispatch!
Yo. Pall.
Brother, I can,
But marke the Malice and the envy of
Your Nature: I am no sooner exalted
To rich Possessions, and a glorious meen;
But straight you tempt mee to a forfeiture
Of all; to commit Felony; breake open Chests!
Eld. Pall.
O for Dame Patience! the Fooles Mistresse!
Yo. Pall.
Brother, you have prayd well, heaven send her you!
You must forsake your owne faire fertile soyle,
To live here by your Wits!
Luce.
And dreame Sir of
Enjoying goodly Ladies six yards high!
With Sattin Traines behind them ten yards long!
Amp.
Cloth'd all in Purple, and imbroadred with
Embossements wrought in Imag'ry, the works
O'th ancient Poets drawne into similitude,
And cunning shape!
Gin.
And this attain'd Sir by your Wits!
Yo: Pall.
Nothing could please your haughty Pallat but
The Muskatelli, and Frantiniak Grape!
Your Turih and your Tuscan Veale, with Red
Legg'd Partridge of the Genoa hils!
Engin.
With your broad Liver o'th Venecian Goose;
Fatned by a Iew; and your aged Carpe,
Bred i'th Geneva Lake!
Ampl., Luce., Ginet.
All this maintain'd Sir by your Wits!
Engin.
And then you talk'd Sir of your Snailes t'ane from
The dewy Marble Quarries of Carrara,
And sows'd in Luca Oyle; with Creame of Zwitzerland,
And Genoa passe.
Yo: Pall.
Your Angelots of Brie!
Your Marsolini, and Parmasan of Lodi!
Your Malamucka Mellons, and Cicilian Dates!
And then to close your proud voluptuous Maw,
Ample., Luce., Ginet.
And still thus feasted by your wits!
Eld. Pall.
Deafned with tyranny! is there no end!
Ample.
Yes Sir, an end of you; you shall be now
Convay'd into a closse darke Vault; there keepe
My silent Grandsire company; and all
The Musicke of your groanes, engrosse to your owne eares!
Eld: Pall.
How! buried, and alive?
Yo. Pall.
Brother! your hand!—
Farewell! I'm for the North! the fame of this
Your voluntary death, will there be thought
Pure courtesie to me; I meane to take
Possession sir, and patiently converse
With all those Hindes, those Heards, and Flocks,
That you disdain'd in fulnesse of your Wit!
Luce.
Helpe Pall to carry him! he takes it heavily!—
Eld. Pall.
I'le not endur't! fire! murder! fire! treason!
Murder! treason! fire!—
Amp.
Alas you are not heard!
The house containes none but our selves!
Ex. carying out the Chest.
Enter Thwack, Pert, Meager.
Pert.
We bring you sir, commends from Pallatine!
Thwack.
I had as'live, y' had brought it from the Devill!
Together with his hornes boyld to a Ielly,
For a Cordiall against lust!
Meag.
We meane the younger Pallatine; one Sir,
That loves your person, and laments this chance,
Which his false brother hath exposde you to!
Pert.
And as we told you sir, by his command,
We have compounded with the Constable;
In whose darke house, y'are now a Prisoner!
But sir, take't on my Faith; you must disburse!
For Gold is a restorative, as well
To libertie as health!
Thwack.
And you beleeve
(It seemes) that your small-tinie Officer
Will take his Unction in the Palme as lovingly,
As your exalted Grandee, that awes all
With hideous voyce, and face!
Pert.
Even so the Moderns render it!
But Gentlemen, you aske a hundred pounds;
Tis all I've left!
Pert.
Sir doe but thinke what a
Prodigious blemish it will be, both to
Your ingenuitie, and fame, to be
Betrayd by one, that is believ'd, no wittier than
Your selfe, and lye imprison'd for a Bawd!
Thwack.
Sir name it not! You kill mee through the eare!
I'd rather Sir, y'ould take my Mother from
Her grave, and put her to doe Pennance in
Her winding sheet: there is the Sum!—
Meag.
I'le in Sir, and discharge you!
Exit Meager.
Thw.
These carnall Mulcts and Tributes are design'd
Onely to such vaine people as have Land;
Are you, and your friend Landed Sir?
Pert.
Such land as wee can share Sir in the Map!
Thw.
Lo'you there now! These live by their Wits!
Why should not I take the next Key I meet,
And open this great head; to try, if there
Be any braines left, but sowre Curds, and Plum-broth!
Couzen'd in my Youth! couzen'd in my Age!
Sir, doe you judge, if I have cause to curse
This false, inhumane Towne! when I was young,
I was arrested for a stale commoditie
Of Nut-crackers, long Gigs, and Casting Tops:
Now I am old, imprison'd for a Bawd!
Pert.
These are sad Tales!
Thw.
I will write downe to'th Country, to dehort
The Gentry from comming hither, Letters
Of strange dire Newes; You shall disperse them Sir!
Pert.
Most faithfully!
Thw.
That there are Lents, six yeares long proclam'd by th'State!
That our French and Deale Wines are poyson'd so
With Brimstone by the Hollander, that they
Will onely serve for Med'cine to recover
Children of the Itch; and there is not left
Sack enough, to mull for a Parsons cold!
Pert.
This needs must terrifie!
Thw.
That our Theaters are raz'd downe; and where
They stood, hoarse Midnight Lectures preach'd by Wives
Of Comb-makers, and Mid-wives of Tower-Wharfe!
'Twill take impregnablie!
Thw.
And that a new Plantation Sir (marke me)
Is made i'th Coven Garden, from the Sutlerie
O'th German Campes, and the Suburbs of Paris,
Where such a salt disease regnes as will make
Sassafras dearer than Vnicornes Horne!
Pert.
This cannot chuse but fright the Gentry hence;
And more impoverish the Towne, than a
Subversion of their Faire of Bartholmew,
The absence of the Termes, and Court!
Thw.
You shall (if my projections thrive) in lesse
(Sir) than a yeare; stable your horses in
The New Exchange, and graze them in the Old!—
Enter Yo: Pallatine, Meager, Queasie, Snore, Mist: Snore.
Pert.
Iog off! there's Pall, treating for your liberty!
Yo: Pall.
The Canopy, the Hangings, and the Bed,
Are worth more than your Rent! come, y'are overpaid!
Besides, the Gentleman's betray'd! hee is no Bawd!
Snor.
Truely, a very civill Gentleman!
'Las, hee hath onely roar'd, and sworne, and curs'd
Since hee was t'ane: no bawdry Ile assure yee!
Mist: Snor.
Gossip Queasie! what a good'yer would ye have?
Quea.
I am content, if you and I were friends!
Yo: Pall.
Come, come agree! 'tis I that ever bleed,
And suffer in your wars!
Mist. Snor.
Sweet Master Pallatine, here me but speake!
Have I not often said, Why neighbour Queasie,
Come to my house; besides, your Daughter Mall,
You know, last Pompeon time, din'd with me thrice!
When my childs best yellow stockings were missing;
And a new Pewter Porenger mark'd with P. L.
Snor.
I for Elizabeth Snore!
Mist: Snor.
The Pewterer that mark'd it was my Uncle!
Quea.
Why, did my Daughter steale your goods?
Mist. Snor.
You heare me say nothing! but there is
As bad as this (I warrant yee) learn't at
The Back-house! Ile have an Oven o'mine owne shortly!
Yo: Pall.
Come, no more words! there's to reconcile you,
In Burnt wine, and Cake! Goe, get you all in!
Exeunt Snore, Mist: Snore, Queasie.
Meag.
A hundred Pall! 'twas all his store; it lies
Here my brave Boy, warme, and secure in Pouch!
Pert.
Wee'l share't anon.—What need your blush Sir Morglay,
Like a Mayd newly undone in a darke
Entrie? There are disasters sure, as bad
As yours Recorded in the Citie Annals!
Thw.
Your Brother is a Gentleman of a
Most even, and blessed composition, Sir;
His very blood is made of Holy-Water,
Lesse salt, than Almond-milke!
Yo: Pall.
My silly reprehension's were dispis'd;
Y'would be his Disciple, and follow him,
In a new Path, unknowne to his owne feet.
Yet I've walk't in it since; and prosper'd as
You see, without or Land, or Tenement.
Thw.
Tis possible to live b'our Wits! that is
As evident as light, no humane learning
Shall advise me from that Faith!
Yo: Pall.
Sir Knight, what will you give worthy my braine,
And mee; if after a concealement of
Your present shame, I can advise you, how,
T'achieve such store of wealth, and treasure, as
Shall keepe you here, th'exemplar glory of
The Towne, a long whole yeare, without reliefe
Or charge, from your owne Rents. This (I take it)
Was the whole Pride, at which, some few dayes since,
Your fancie aym'd!
Thw.
This was Sir in the howres
Of haughtinesse and hope! but now—
Yo: Pal.
Ile do't: whilst my poore Brother too; low, and
Declin'd, shall see, and envie it.
Thwack.
Live in full port; observ'd, and wondred at?
Wine, ever flowing in large Saxon Romekins
About my board; with your soft sarsnet smock
At night; and forreigne Musick to entranse?
Yo: Pall.
All this, and more than thy invention can
Invite thee too.
Thw.
Ile make thee heire of my
For witnesses!
Yo: Pall.
Enough! heare mee with haste!
The Lady Ample's dead!—Nay there are things
Have chanc'd since your concealment far more fit
For wonder Sir, than this: Out of a silly piety,
T'avoyd a thirst of Gold, and gawdy Pride
I'th world; sh'ath buried with her in a Chest,
Her Iewels, and her Clothes; besides, as I'm
Enform'd by Luce (my wise Intelligence)
Five thousand pounds in Gold; a Legacie,
Left by her Aunt more than her Guardian knew!
Thwac.
Well, what of this?
Yo: Pall.
Your selfe, and I, joyn'd Sir in a most firme
And loyall League, may rob this Chest!
Thwack.
Marrie, and will!
Yo: Pall.
Then when your promise is but ratify'd,
Take all the treasure for your owne expence!
Thw.
Come let us goe; My fingers burne till they
Are telling it! The night will grow upon's!
Onely you and I, I'le not trust new Faces:
Dismisse these Gentlemen!
Yo: Pall.
At the next street Sir!
Thw.
This is at least a girne of Fortune, if
Not a faire smile. I'm still for my old Problem;
Since the living rob mee, Ile rob the dead!
Yo: Pall.
On my delicious Pert! Now is the time
To make our Purses swell, and Spirits climbe!
Exeunt omnes.
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