University of Virginia Library

Scæ 3.

Enter Anne in Bed, Mistris Changeable, Lord Skales, Treatwell and Geffery.
Lo.
Run for the Doctor Geffery.

An.
Let him stay,
Deaths Image cannot shew so gastly to me
As would the shape of Doctor, Ile have none.

Wi.
Nay sweet Nan be perswaded.

An.
If he come
Good faith Ile live no longer.

Lo.
Sooth her up,
Or she will grow to frenzy.

Wi.
How doth my sweet heart?

An.
Sicke, oh sicke at heart, and you keepe such a buzzing
In my eares, that I can take no rest;
Would you would leave mee.

Wi.
See here's my Lord.

An.
From whom, if't
Be his will, the Lord deliver me.

Tre.
The maid talkes idly.

Wi.
What would my honey have?

An.
Your absence,
Mother, and yours, and all of you; I am but dead
Unlesse you give me rest; oh sicke, sicke, sicke,
Your tongues like untun'd Bells, sound in my eares,
Nothing but Grave and Church-yard.

Wi.
Whom wilt have
To watch with thee all night?

An.
None but my Father,
All tongues are noise and discords saving his;
But his like charming Musicke, quietly
Summons my eyes to rest; and could I sleepe once
I hope I should be better, oh.

Lo.
'Tis best to humour her.

An.
I shall disclaime all friendship with that tongue
That speakes another sillable; this prating
It strikes quite through my head, and makes it beate
As it would fall in peeces.

Wi.
Silence all.

An.
Mother, you talke of silence, and yet speake; how can that be?

Wi.
Mum.

An.
if you were sicke at heart as I, you'de
Say mum were a word, Mum sounds to me, being sicke,
Loud as a Cannon; why so? I thanke you all, indeed you
Doe me now a wondrous kindnesse; I pray, pray for me, I
shall be well at midnight, well at heart;
And at head too I hope: and Mother, nay reply not,
I'me like the man that could endure no noise
In'th silent woman, answer all in signes;
Mother I hope ere morning I shall find
Some more hearts ease; remember when you see't,
I told you of't before hand: I would sleepe:
Hand in my bed, Ile turne to the wall, and try if I can
Sleepe, so good night all.

The Bed pull'd in
Wi.
So, softly as you can; some little rest
Will bring her to her temper, for this night
We will commit her to her Fathers charge, since she so
Much desires it.

Lo.
Any thing to give her least content.

Enter old Changeable and Roger.
Chan.
Thou knowst my mind, what thou hast undertooke
Mannage with good discretion.

Rog.
'Tis as safe
Here in my breast as under bolts and lockes,
The cunning'st pick-locke tongue that ever spake
Shall turne these springs to ope them; farewell sir.

Chan.
Farewell good Roger, but no word to' your Master
Of what I have reveal'd thee kept from him.

Rog.
As I would doe a kindnesse, lay't in me,
From my old fellow Geffery.

Exit.
Chan.
Now my Lord; I am still labouring for the generall
Good, to have my house at peace, and you content;
But Wife, how is't with Nan?

Wi.
Sir, wondrous ill,
She will endure no counsell, physicke, language,
All tongues are clamour to her, saving yours,
Harsh as a blacke Sant, or a grating Wheele;
And I much feare without some providence, she scarce
Will live till morning.

Chan.
'Las poore Girle.

Lo.
But she entreats in midd'st of all extreames
That you would take the paines to watch with her,
No other she'le endure.

Chan.
And sir, I'le doe't,
No other tongue this night shall trouble her, nor presence
Save my owne; shall I entreate your Lordship, you good
Wife, and those you thinke best to associate you,
To stand in sight of all such Apparitions
As shall in this roome be made visible?
My life shall for your safety be ingag'd, in it can be no
Danger.

Lo.
What assurance can you produce for that?

Chan.
The word and faith of some approv'd religious,
Who have promis'd, at my great intercession, that this
Night shall be the last of all my progidies
That thus afflict my house.

Tre.
I am but one and I my selfe will venture.

Gef.
Faith
And I.

Chan.
I do not think wife but there will be visions
Worthy both sight and observation to;
What will you say if Slightall be this night
Contract to a she fury? but no words,
Ile not tell you all I know; he's past his sence
And apt for any stratagem of Hell: I am promis'd
Much faire hope; will you ascend and guide my Lord to a
Convenient place, where you may view this object?

Wi.
In th'meane time, how will you dispose your selfe?

Chan.
To watch with Nan,
And in her great dispaire to comfort her;
Nought but the dangerous sicknesse of my Girle
Could keepe me from you, but the houre drawes on,
Which Ghosts ever are tyed to.

Wi.
Mauger spirits, Ile
Once take spirit into me.

Lo.
A woman lead?
They ascend.
'Twere basenesse not to follow.

Chan.
My Girle's my
Charge; she hath bin ever so, and therefore ought
This night; and since one Divell some
Few dayes since began to haunt my house
She ne're had peace of thought, health, nor content,
Or least essentiall comfort; which to compasse,
All Art, wit, learning, this night Ile implore
To drive him hence, shall haunt my house no more.
Exit.
Thunder.

Enter above Lord, Wife, Treatwell, and Geffery.
Lord.
The Larum's given;
For at that watch word still the rufling noyse begins.

Gef.
Would I were hence.

Lor.
Now sweeter Musicke strikes.

Wif.
There's no affright in this.

Enter Fryers, Bernard and Iohn at severall doores, as hallowing the Roome.
Gef.
My Lord these Friers I know.

Lo.
But whether
They, or but their shadowes by Art Magicke rais'd we
Cannot yet presume.

Wi.
But this I'me sure.
They are exceeding like.

Frier Bernard fetches in at his doore Slightall, and Roger, Frier Io. at his, Anne and the Divell.
Lo.
That can be none but Slightall.

Gef.
My Lord see, my
Fellow Roger's damn'd, for he's got in
Among the Fiends and Furies.

Wi.
Were I not certaine my daughter Nan were desperately
Sicke, and kept both Bed and Chamber, I durst sweare
That were my Girle.

Gef.
Is she not dead to night, and
Now her Ghost there walkes?

Lo.
What might we
Thinke of't? the Friers prepare for Marriage; but what, he
Stands for the Father, whom they beckon to, to give
Her hand to Slightall.

Gef.
Now I have't;
Upon my life the Divell can be no better; she the illusive
Spirit by whom this roome was haunted, contracted
Now unto yon desperate Ruffian.

Lo.
But this troubles me, the Fury should assume no other
Shape but her faire Angell beauty.

Wi.
Even for that, great reason too,

[Lo.]
would I could understand it.

Wi.
Because he was enamoured first on her,
The more to tempt him, she assum'd that shape,
Whom else could she so fitly personate?
Nay goe together, you have my consent,
Ile ne're forbid the Banes.

Lo.
Much joy unto you, good troth nor I.

Wi.
The Divell give you good of't.

Chan.
And so the
Divell doth, for your kind consent my Lord I thanke you,
And gentle wife for yours.

An.
And, next my Father,
I hold it my fit duty, thankes to both.

Wi.
Let me leape downe the next way, for the contract
I vow to breake.

Rog.
But Mistris, that's the next way
To breake your necke, and keepe the contract firme;
The Staire-case will doe better.

Lo.
Thus o're reach'd?

Wi.
Fool'd and deluded? give me way my Lord,
For I will downe among them.

Rog.
Hye to shelter, for there's a storme comming.

Sl.
That you are man, this woman, I am rapt
And extasy'd in braine, but cannot yet
Unwrappe my sences from this wondrous maze;
This suddaine light of knowledge so much dazels,
That in my judgement I am blinded quite,
And know not how to free me.

Chan.
That anon, my Daughter making knowne your
Deepe dispaire, your helpe I studied both of purse and braine,
And fearing a lost soule, I then turn'd Divell,
To prove your better Angell; talke with her,
For I must arme for thunder.

Enter Lord, Wife, Treatwell, and Geffery.
Wi.
Was this a marriage in the Divells name?

Chan.
Yes, and his Dam in presence; she lookt on

Wi.
That your shee Lamia?

Chan.
Yes, my sweet wench Nan.

Wi.
Were you sicke with a vengeance?

An.
But I told you I should be well by Midnight;
So good Mother I feele my selfe I am well, never better.

Ch.
Shall I be plaine, my Lord? I crave your pardon,
Wife, for your rage I am arm'd, yes,
If thou could'st encounter with
Flesh-hookes, and with Fire-brands; for I tell thee
I am practis'd in the Divell: but to you, my Lord,
I pass'd my faith unto this Gentleman,
Had it beene done to you I ne're had broke it.

Lo.
Sir you speake nobly;
What must bee, must be: it is in the will of Heaven,
And I am well pleas'd with it.

Wi.
And am I over-reach'd? well Slightall,
My blessing on thee, she's thine.

Sl.
Mother, my Knee in duty bowes thus low:
My Lord, your hand, I hope no
Malice harbours in your heart.

Lo.
I hope you'le not imagine't.

Sl.
Sir I doe not; and all I hope are pleas'd.

All.
Wee are.

Sl.
If these be so, we then are happy,
We are new wedded, you are our chiefe Guest,
Though once my Rivall, now you are my friend:
My fortune thus all malice hath defeated,
And by a new trike the Grand Divell cheated.

Exeunt Omnes.