University of Virginia Library

The First ACT.

The SCENE opens, and upon two Stools are discover'd the Tire-woman and Chair-woman, one shelling of Beans, and the other Sowing.
Enter Player and House-Keeper.
Play.
What, shelling of Beans? 'tis a proper work
For the Long Vacation. You may e'en dry 'em
In the Sun, and lay 'em up in the Tiring-house
For the Players: they may get Bacon to 'em
When the Term comes.

Hous. K.
Nay you may work on too, 'tis Hospital ware,
Course shirts for the poor Poets.

[Knocking hard at Dore.
Play.
Are they mad? sure they take the Play-house for
The Church-yard o're the way; and mean to wake
Our dead Neighbours. What would you have?

[Knocking agen.
Tir. W.
Pray knock civilly. I believe it is
Some Country Poet with a stock of Plays.
He brings his Ware to sell when the Fares's done.

[Knocking agen.
Play.
Some University Muse is in hard labour,
And she takes our Tire-woman for a Midwife.
Open the Dore.—

[Exit Hous. K. and enter again with Monsieur.
Mons.
Be you von, two, tree of de Teatre.

Hous. K.
We are standing properties of the Play-house,
Which, in vacation, lye in pawn for the Rent,

Mons.
Dat is vel, bi de Bill de House is to let.

Play.
'Tis to let, but you, Sir, knock'd so hard
As if you meant to take it by assault.

Mons.
Sir, me besesh your pardon, and vill give
De good mony vor de Rent dis Vacation.

Hous. K.
What would you do in't? we must like your Trade
Before we let our Shop, lest we should ride
With John Dory to Paris to seek Rent.

Mons.
Mi vil make Presentation of de Farce.

Tir. W.
Farces, what be those? New French Bobs for Ladies?

Play.
Pray peace; I understand the Gentleman.
Your Farces are a kind of Mungril Plays.
But, Sir, I believe all French Farces are
Prohibited Commodities, and will
Not pass current in England.

Mons.
Sir, pardon me; de Engelis be more
Fantastick den de Fransh. De Farce
Bi also very fantastick, and vil passe.

Play.
The Monsieur's in the right; for we have found
Our Customers of late exceeding humorous.

Mons.
De vise Nation bi for tings heroique,
And de fantastique, vor de Farce!

Tire. W.
I like not that these French pardonne-moys
should make so bold with old England.

Hous. K.
Peace, Woman; Wee'l let the House, and get money.

Play.
But how will your French Farce be understood?
For all our travell'd Customers are gone
To take the Air with their own Wives, beyond
Hide-Park a great way; a homely Country mode
Of their Fore-fathers.

Tir. W.
With grief we speak it;
They may be asham'd to leave their poor Mistresses
And us behind 'em without Customers.

Play.
Pray save your tears for our next Tragedy.
The Monsieur's all for merry Farces, but
(As I said, Sir,) how shall we understand 'em?

Mons.
Me have a Troop of French Comœdien
Dat speak a litle very good Engelis.

Tir. W.
Bless us! a Troop?

Play.
Woman, thou art no Linguist; they in France
Call a Company of Players, a Troop.

Tir. W.
I thought he had ta'ne our long Tennis-Court
For a Stable.

Play.
And you are shelling Beans for his Horses.

[Knocking without again.
Hous. K.
Our Bill at the Door draws in more Customers.
[Exit House-Keeper.

Play.
House-Keeper, look out!
Monsieur, you may draw up your Troop of Farcers
Within the Pales, they may chance to give us
A short trial of their prowess in Poetry.

Mons.
Vel, Sir, you sal see trange ting.
[Exit Monsieur.

Play.
Who is't that knock'd?

[Enter House-Keeper.
Hous. K.
Nay there's a couple.

Play.
What are they?

Hous. K.
Men in their shirts doing Penance,
For the most scandalous sin of Poverty;
Two very hot Fencers without doublets:
They would hire our Play-house.

Play.
For what use?

Hous. K.
For a School, where they'd teach the Art of Duel
Which is a fit trade in the long Vacation;
For nothing makes young Gentlemen so quarrelsom
As want of money.

Play.
Tell 'em the Red Bull stands empty for Fencers.
There are no Tenents in it but old Spiders:
Go bid the men of wrath allay their heat
With Prizes there.

Hous. K.
I told 'em of Paneras-Church, where their Scholars
(When they have kill'd one another in Duel)
Have a Church-yard to themselves for their dead.

[Knocking again.
Play.
Bid 'em march off.
[Exit House-Keeper.
We'll let this Theatre and build another, where,
At a cheaper rate, we may have Room for Scenes.
Brainford's the place!
Perhaps 'tis now somewhat to far i'th' Suburbs;
But the mode is for Builders to work slight and fast;
And they proceed so with new houses,
That old-London will quickly overtake us.

Enter House-Keeper, Musitian and Porter bearing Cases for Instruments.
Hous. K.

I've brought the man, who, without the Merchandize
of two Cats, shall make us all rich Whitingtons.

Play.
Hey, what have we here?
A load of Tombs for dead Fiddles?

Mus.
I find, Sir, by your Bills you'd let the Play-house.

Play.
We would find means to live, this dead Vacation.

Mus.
That is, you wou'd have a good round Rent for it.

Play.
Which you'll scarce pay by playing Sellingers-round.

Mus.
Your wit, Sir, will never grow up to madness:
'Tis only the fume of an empty stomach.
You may recover in the Term, when you
Get money to get meat.

Play.
Pretily well said; but however, Sir,
You should have been sure of our Shop before
You brought in your Ware.

Mus.
Rest you merry.
There is another Play-house to let in Vere-street.

Hous. K.
This man of musick has more in his head
Than meer Crotchets. I pray a word, Sir:
I am the House-Keeper.

Mus.
You may sleep out your Office, Sir.
Y'are not like to be wak'd with visitants.

[Going out.
Play.
Sir, under your favour, let's not part thus.
Please but to clear the mist which you brought with you.

Mus.
Well, Sir, be brief.

Play.
Why came you with such confidence to take
The House, as made you bring your Furniture
Before we treated for the Rent?

Mus.
Because I thought you had been more in love
With your profit, than with your wit.

Play.
I, that's the point? whence should our profit rise?

Mus.
I meant to entertain the People with
A Novelty; which I suppose is no
Ill bait for those small Fishes, which I thought
Mine own, and purpos'd you a share i'th' Net.

Play.
But what's the composition of your Bait?

Mus.
I wou'd have introduc'd Heroique story
In Stilo Recitativo.

Play.
In Stilo Recitativo? 'tis well;
I understand you, Sir. But do you think
That natural?

Mus.
Because 'tis not in custom
You therefore think, Sir, it is out of Nature?

Play.
It seems so, Sir, to me, unless you would
Metamorphise men into Birds. Suppose
I should not ask, but sing, you now a question,
And you should instantly sing me an answer;
Would you not think it strange?

Mus.
Well, Sir, as how?

[Plays and Sings.
Play.
Take out your Watch, and tell me, Sir, the hour?
Then you reply,
My Watch, Sir, is at Pawn, but 'tis past Four.

Mus.
Your heart is good, Sir, but y'are an ill Mimick
In Musick, and your voice does breed some doubt
Of your Virginity.

Play.
You'd make me blush
If there were strangers here; but if you please
Cease your rebukes, and proceed to instruction.

Mus.
Recitative Musick is not compos'd
Of matter so familiar, as may serve
For every low occasion of discourse.
In Tragedy, the language of the Stage
Is rais'd above the common dialect;
Our passions rising with the height of Verse;
And Vocal Musick adds new wings to all
The flights of Poetry.

[Knocking within again.
Hous. K.
Look out again! there's a fresh Customer.

[Exit Tire-Woman.
Play.
Be pleas'd, Sir, to retire awhile, and tune
Your Instruments. You shall make trial of
The length and depth of all the Ears we have.

Mus.
I'll chuse the Womens Tiring-Room for privacy.

Play.
You may; for they are gon, Sir, to rob Orchards,
And get the Green-sickness in the Country.

[Exit Musician and Porter at one Door, Enter Tire-Woman at the other.]
Tir. W.
There's such a crowd at door, as if we had
A new Play of Gundamar.

Play.
See who they be.
[Exit House-Keeper.
Our Bill has been up but two days, and I perceive
We shall have use again of our Wardrobe.
Go Woman! drive away the Moths;
For they are grown as big as Butterflies.

[Exit Tire-Woman.
Enter House-Keeper with a Dancing-Master.
Hous. K.
All the dry old Fools of Bartholomew Fair
Are come to hire our house. The German Fool,
Yan Boridge of Hamb'rough, and numberless
Jack-Puddings; the new motion men of Norwich,
Op'ra-Puppets; the old Gentlewoman
That professes the Galliard on the Rope;
Another rare Turke that flies without wings,
Rich Juglers with imbroider'd Budgets; Hoop-men,
And so many Tom-Tumblers that you'd think
Lincolns-Inn-Field a Forest of wild Apes.

Play.
Your Tumblers may trot hence, your Jugglers too
May e'en pass and repass away to Southwark;
But, till the nation be more civiliz'd,
Your Fool and Devil may be entertain'd;
They'l get money; none now but very choice
Spectators will vouchsafe to see a Play
Without 'm. Pray, what is that Gentleman?

Hous. K.
Not a spectator, Sir; but one that would
Fain hire our House to draw spectators hither.

Play.
What is your Mystery?

Dan. Ma.
Historical dancing.

Play.
How? high History upon Ropes?

Danc. Ma.
Fie no, Sir; I'm for down-right plain history
Exprest in figures on the floor, a kind
Of morals in dumb shows by Men and Beasts.

Play.
Without any Interpreter?

Danc. Ma.
Pardon me, Sir; the Audience now and then
Must be inform'd by Chorus's in Rhime.

Play.
O, dumb-shows with speeches?

Danc. Ma.
Yes, Sir, the same: but very short.

Play.
I apprehend you, Sir, if these be not
Novelties, I'll to Sea, and strait seek out
A new World to find 'em. These will take rarely,

Hous. K.
Wee'l buy Shovels to keep our Money from rusting.

Play.
Well, my dear fantastick friends of London,
Who love Novelty, and would scorn to look
Even on the Moon, but that she changes often
And becomes new; I hope we shall please you now.

[Knock again.
Hous. K.
Another man of Mystery!
[Exit Hous. K.

Play.
Sir, pass the back way over to the Grange;
An Inn where you may bait your Men and Beasts;
And wee'l be for you strait.

[Exit Danc. Ma.
Enter, at the other door, House-Keeper.
Hous. K.
Here is one Goodman John Leyden desires
To speak with you; and he does promise great satisfaction
By a word to the Wise.

Play.
Tell him, the Wise are not at leisure now
To hear his Sov'raignship. What would he have?

Hous. K.
He would hire the Turband, Scepter, and
Throne of our Solyman the Magnificent; and reign
This long Vacation over all the dominions
In Portugall-Row.

Play.
He was an Enemy
To the exil'd Comicks: I will not hear him.

Hous. K.
Consider well! He'll draw spectators hither.

Play.
Yes, such as will give no more to see him here
Than in the street to see a Blazing Star.
Money is the main material of Rent:
Your Kings of Munster pay in prophecies only.

Hous. K.
He has a Ream of Paper about him:
They are Bills of Exchange or Prophecies.

Play.
Bills of Exchange sign'd long ago at Munster.
Bid him be gone.

Hous. K.
He's not such an enemy to the Comicks,
As one without is a Foe to him;
One who desires admittance too.

Play.
What is he?

Hous. K.
A man of Meeter, a Poet.

Play.
Dismiss your Doling, and let in your Poet.
We must be ever civil to the Muses:

Hous. K.
The Poet has a special Train behind him,
Though they look lean and empty,
Yet they seem very full of invention.

Play.
Let him enter, and send his Train to our
House-Inn, the Grange.
[Exit House-Keeper.
Virgil himself, as ancient Poets say,
Was once a Groom, and liv'd by Oats and Hay.

Enter House-Keeper and Poet.
Poet.
The Bill upon your door shews that
Your House was not of late much haunted.

Hous. K.
Not with Play-visitors, nor is it now
With Spirits, for you see none are afraid
To hyre it.

Poet.
I did not suspect, Sir, it could be haunted
With Spirits, for you Players never hide money.

Play.
You Poets do; for 'tis but seldom, Sir,
That any has been found about ye.

Poet.
D'you set up of your selves, and profess Wit
Without help of your Authors? Take heed, Sirs!
You'l get few Customers.

Hous. K.
Yes, we shall have the Poets.

Poet.
'Tis because they pay nothing for their entrance.
But, my friends, leave off the endeavour to
Grow witty without occasion. I pray
Be in earnest. Do you mean to get money?

Play.
That's the cause why we endeavour at wit.

Poet.
Wit will not do your work alone.
You must have something of a newer stamp to make your
Coyn current. Your old great Images of
Love and Honour are esteem'd but by some
Antiquaries now. You should set up with that
Which is meer new. What think you
Of Romances travest.

Play.
Explain you self.

Poet.
The Garments of our Fathers you must wear
The wrong side outward, and in time it may
Become a fashion.

Hous. K.
It will be strange, and then 'tis sure to take.

Poet.
You shall present the actions of the Heroes,
(Which are the chiefest Theams of Tragedy)
In Verse Burlesque.

Play.
Burlesque and Travesti? These are hard words,
And may be French, but not Law-French.
Take heed, Sir, what you say; you may be question'd for't.
We would do nothing, Sir, but what is legal.

Hous. K.
If it be French, I pray translate it to us.

Play.
Good, Sir, no French translation till the Tearm;
It is too precious for Vacation-ware.
Most of the men of judgment are retir'd
Into the Country, and the remainder that
Are left behind, come here not to consider
But to be merry at such obvious things
As not constrain 'em to the pains of thinking.

Poet.
Would you avoid Translations out of French?

Play.
We had a trial here of so much force
As humane wit could bring, but truly, Sir,
The number of our Customers (for whom
Our Shop is chiefly open in Vacation)
Affect Commodities of lesser price.

Poet.
You meet my judgment in a direct line.

Play.
The French convey their arguments too much
In Dialogue: their speeches are too long.

Poet.
Indeed, such single length in their debates
Bears some resemblance with that famous Duel,
Which, in the fields of Finsbury, was fought.
Whilom at Rovers with long Bow and Arrows:
It began at Day-break, and ended at
Sun-setting; whilst they each did gather up
The weapons which the other shot, and sent
Them back again with like effect.

Play.
Such length of speeches seem not so unpleasing
As the contracted walks of their designs.

Poet.
Which are as narrow as the Allies in
Our Citty-Gardens.

Play.
I perceive you take the
Air sometimes within the Walls of London.

Poet.
If I agree with you in finding your
Disease, it is some sign that I may know
Your remedy; which is the Travesti,
I mean Burlesque, or, more t'explain my self,
Would say, the Mock-heroique must be it
Which draws the pleasant hither i'th Vacation,
Men of no malice who will pay for laughter.
Your busie Termers come to Theatres,
As to their Lawyers-Chambers, not for mirth,
But, prudently, to hear advice.

Play.
You'd take our House for Poetry-burlesque?

Poet.
I would, and introduce such folly as shall
Make you wise; that is, shall make you rich.

Play.
Well, we'll be content, like other rich Fools,
To be laught at. There is an old tradition
That in the times of mighty Tamberlane,
Of conjuring Faustus, and the Beauchamps bold,
You Poets us'd to have the second day.
This shall be ours, Sir, and to morrow yours.

Poet.
I'll take my venture, 'tis agreed!

Play.
You bring materials with you to set up?

Poet.
My Mock-Burlesquers are without.

Play.
Conduct 'em to the Wardrobe, Sir, where you
May take your choice of Cloaths and properties:
Only, give way, Sir, to your Predecessors:
The proverb does appoint the first that come
To be first serv'd. Here is a Monsieur with
His Farce; A spiritual Musician too
With his seraphick Colloquies exprest
In stilo recitativo.

Hous. K.
And historical Dancers that disperse
Morality by speeches in dumb-shows.

Poet.
Well I will take my turn, I must come last.
But, to declare my self a linguist, Sir,
I dare pronounce, Finis coronat opus.
[Exit Poet.

Enter Tire-woman at the other door.
Tir. W.
The crowd are hast'ning to our doors, as if—

Play.
It were to see an old acquaintance hang'd.
What is the bus'ness?

Tir. W.
They would come in, and see strange things for nothing.

Hous. K.
They follow'd the Porter that
Brought the load of Musick.

Play.
A man may bring a Pageant through the streets
As privatly upon my Lord Mayor's day,
As a burden of Viol-cases hither.

Tir. W.
The fat Gentleman desires he may come in;
He that has but one hand.

Play.
He is our constant friend;
A very kind and a hearty spectator;
One who ne'r fails to clap at ev'ry Play.

Hous. K.
How can he clap with one hand?

Play.
'Troth, the good man makes shift, by laying his
Plump cheek thus—then with such true affection
Does so belabour it.—He shall come in.
Woman, bid him hasten to the back-door.

Hous. K.
We have some half hearted friends who clap softly
As if they wore furr'd Mittens.

Play.
We must provide our Party 'gainst to morrow;
Watch at the doors before the Play begins,
And make low congies to the cruel Criticks
As they come in; the Poets should do that;
But they want breeding, which is the chief cause
That all their Plays miscarry.

Hous. K.
There is least malice in the upper Gallery,
For they continually begin the plaudit.

Play.
We'll hire a dozen Laundry-Maids and there
Disperse 'em, Wenches that use to clap Linen;
They have tough hands, and will be heard.

Hous. K.
They shall be heard, or els we'll make 'em bring
Their Laundry-Battledores.

Play.
Go, Guardian of the house, bestir your self;

Hous. K.
And bid our new Projectors to make haste:
If you will lend 'em clothes and properties,
I'll fit some of our Scenes for their occasions.

Play.
Let them begin in order, and to work.
This is their day of trial, whilst we sit
Like two judicious Magistrates of wit.
The Spanish Poet had six hours to do,
What we dull English undertake in two.

[Exeunt several ways.