 | A Fine Companion |  |
Scena IIII.
Enter to them Littlegood, Dotario.Lit.
Looke you here comes the old Leacher, he lookes as
fresh as an old play new vampt, pray see how trim hee is, and
how the Authours have corrected him, how his Taylor, and
his Barber have set him forth; sure he has receiued an other
impression
Æmi.
I thinke the foole will be tedious.
Lit.
Well, now I have brought you together, heere Ile
leaue you, when lovers parly, Parents are no fitt Auditors; see
that you vse the Gentleman respectiuely, and though sir, shee
seeme coy and deny you, impute it not to perversenes but modesty.
Mayds in their first assaults consult with shame, in the
next with weakenesse. So I leave you,
Faire Mistresse, I would aske you a question, if you
please to answer me.
Æmil.
No Mistresse of yours Sir, yet if you aske nothing
but what I please to answer, you may.
Dot.
I would first demand your opinion of me.
Æmi.
Truly I have no skill to make any conjecture by the
outward appeareance, but by the Title page of your face, I
should judge you to be somewhat ancient.
Dot.
Take my word for it, the Index is false printed, if
you please to turne to the booke, you shall find no such thing
written.
Æmi.
O tis worme eaten, time has cankerd it, besides there
be so many dashes, my vnderstanding will not serve mee to
reade it, and a woman has no vse of her Clergy.
Dot.
But love has renew'd it sweete Lady, and this is another
edition.
Æmi.
How long is it since the coppy has beene alter'd?
Dot.
Let it not seeme strange to you that I have felt this
transformation, your forme has wrought a miracle vpon me,
the pulchritude of your feature, that is able to extract youth
out of age, and could make Æson young againe, without the
helpe of Medea, it has put a fire into mee, and I must impute
it neither to Herbes, nor Philtrums, but to the influence, and
power of your beauty.
Æmi.
A fire, 'tis a foolish one, that leades you without the
precinct of your gravity, I strange, a man of your judgement
should talke so preposterously.
Dot.
Why sweete Lady?
Æmi.
Sweete Lady, what a petulant word is there, for
a man of your beard? a Boy of fifteene would not have
spoke it without blushing, and ther's a smile able to turne my
stomack. I wonder you will make your selfe so ridiculous.
Cro.
If this be the best language shee can afford him,
'twere safe for mee not to heare it. I may be call'd for a
witnesse.
Dot.
Stay Crochet, whither goest thou?
Cro.
Ile come presently sir, Ile come presently.
Æmi.
Now you are alone, Ile tell you what I thinke of
you, you are an old doting foole, one that twenty yeares
sexe thou wert, worne out of all remembrance of thy
selfe, thou hast a body, that a feaver cannot heat, nor poyson
worke upon, a face more rugged then winter, thy beard
is mosse, and thy skin so hard, that the perpetuall dropping
of thy nose cannot soften it.
Dot.
These indignities are not to be endur'd, her abuses
are more monstrous, then the prodegie shee would make of
me.
Æmi.
And yet you would bee in loue forsooth, whom Cupid
with all his strength is not able to pierce, you haue not one
pore open to let in an Arrow, more need haue a cordiall to
comfort you.
Dot.
Ranke iniuries, mocke me to my teeth.
Æmi.
If you had any.
Dot.
I would your father heard you: he left no such thing
in your Commission. How dare you doe it?
Æmi.
Yes and if I marry you, Ile use you accordingly, Ile
haue no mercy on thy age, I tell you before hand, that when
it happens, it may not seeme strange to you.
Dot.
Well shee may play with the line, Ile giue her scope
enough, but when I haue her fast, Ile twitch her, and draw
her as I list to me.
Æmi.
Doe but heare what I say to you, and it shall fall out,
no Prognostication like it.
Dot.
Sure tis some fury, it cannot be a woman shee is so
impudent.
Æmi.
When I am your wife, if you are so hardy to venter
on me, your whole study shall be to please me, and yet I
will not grace it with acceptance; I will liue as your Empresse,
lye a bed, and command you, and your servants, and
you shall not dare to anger me.
Dot.
Not dare to anger you.
Æmi.
No if you doe, I will fill the house with noyse, and
deafe thee with clamours.
Dot.
Sweet heart you shall haue all content, I loue a life
these spirited wenches, that are all fire and motion, they stirre
a quicknesse in a man, infuse an activity.
Æmi.
Hee will not be put off, I must terrifie him farther:
and for your estate, you shall not meddle with it, Ile take up
Ile allow you to carry some farthings in your pouch to giue
to Beggers.
Dot.
And what will you doe with the rest sweeting?
Æmi.
For the rest, Ile spend it upon my selfe in bravery:
there shall not be a new fashion, but Ile haue it. Ile looke after
nothing else; your house shall be a mart for all trades. Ile
keepe twenty continually at worke for me; as Taylors, Perfumers,
Painters, Apothecaries, Coach-makers, Sempsters, and
Tire-women. Besides Embroyderers, and Pensions for intelligencers.
Dot.
Shee'l waste all I haue in a moneth: the expences of
an Army will not maintaine her.
Æmi.
Besides, I will haue acquaintance with all the Ladies
in Court, and entertaine them with banquets, yet for all
that I will make my complaint of you to them, traduce your
infirmities, and they shall conspire against you, and pitty mee.
Dot.
I had rather bee under twenty Executions, then the
lash of their tongue.
Æmi.
Then you shall kisse mee very seldome, and when I
vouchsafe you the favour: and you shall doe it not as a husband,
but as a father, not a smacke of lasciviousnesse.
Dot.
What a sanctified creature shall I enioy?
Æmi.
I will lye with you the first yeare once a moneth, as
a Parson vses to instruct his Cure, and yet not bee question'd
for neglect, or non residence: marry the next yeare, if you
liue so long, once a quarter shall suffice you.
Dot.
The next yeare if I liue so long? shee thinkes of my
death already.
Æmi.
These are the least of your evils. I will haue one to
cuckold you, and you shall take it for a curtesie, and use him
the kindlier for it.
Dot.
Oh me, I can endure it no longer, that word strikes
cold to my heart: were I an enemy, and shee had vanquisht
mee, I would not yield to such Articles. Ile propose these
conditions to her father, and see if hee will allow them in all
conscience to be reasonable.
Æmi.
Master Carelesse promis'd to bee here instantly. Ile
tell him what a fine youth he has to his Vncle.
Car.
Here is the Gulph that swallowes all my Land:
And to this desperate Whirlepit am I reeling.
And there's the smooth streame that must guide me to it.
Were I as provident, as was Ulisses,
That Syren there might sing me to my ruine.
Saue you faire Lady.
Æmi.
Saue you Master Carelesse.
Car.
Will you heare me speake any wise sentences?
I am now as discreet in my conceit,
As the seven Sophyes of Greece, I am full
Of Oracles, I am come from Apollo,
Would he had lent me his Tripos to stand upon;
For my two legges can hardly carry me.
Æmi.
Whence come you, from Apollo!
Car.
From the heaven
Of my delight, where the boone Delphicke God,
Drinkes sacke, and keepes his Bacchanalias,
And has his incense, and his Altars smoaking,
And speakes in sparkeling prophesies; thence doe I come.
My braines perfum'd with the rich Indian vapour,
And heightned with conceits: from tempting beauties,
From dainty Musicke and Poeticke straines,
From bowles of Nectar, and Ambrosiacke dishes:
From witty Varlets, fine Companions,
And from a mighty continent of pleasure,
Sayles thy braue Carelesse. Where's your father Lady?
Æmi.
I thought I had beene worthy salutation.
Car.
These Ceremonies are abolisht with me.
I kisse none but my Punke, but in this humour,
Ile kisse any body. Ile marry thee;
But not a penny joynture.
Æmi.
Where I loue,
I will not stand upon conditions.
Car.
I would accept this invitation,
But thy father is a Vsurer, a Iew.
And if I marry in his tribe I shall thriue,
And I hate thriving. I am come to morgage,
To pawne, or sell Lady.
Æmi.
Doe you want money?
Doe I want money? let me conster this.
Tis a good promising question, and requires
A sober politicke answer, yes I want money.
Æmi.
I haue not ready coyne; but there's a jewell
Will fetch you twenty pound.
Car.
But doe you dare trust me?
Æmi.
I giue it freely.
Car.
Then I say thy father,
In getting thee has redeemed all his sinne.
She has confirm'd my loue, and I will marry her.
Let me survay it well, tis an Amethist.
Æmi.
Why doe you aske?
Æmi.
Because they say that stone
Has secret vertue in it to recover,
A man that's intoxicated, and I doe find
That I am not so drunke, as I was.
Æmi.
O Master Carelesse here has beene your Vncle
A woing to me.
Car.
What that peece of stockfish,
That has kept Lent thus long, would haue young flesh now.
Æmi.
If hee could get it.
Car.
Tis such a ranke Goat.
Æmi.
I made such sport with him, and terrified him, how I
would use him if I were his wife,
That he is frighted hence.
Car.
Tis well done of you, he upbrayded me to
That he would marry, but Ile crosse his worship.
Wee'll vexe him ten times worse yet, I haue plots
Maturing in my head, shall crowne thy wit,
And make him desperate, that he shall dye,
And leaue us nothing. I would not be troubled,
With any of his wealth, no not so much,
As to mourne for him, but I cannot stand
Now to relate it. Come Æmilia.
I haue declar'd my mind, but when ile doe it,
Ile in, and sleepe, and dreame upon't, and tell thee.
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