 | A Fine Companion |  |
Actvs I.
Scena I.
Aurelio, Valeria.Aur.
Tis true indeed, our loue is like our life,
There's no man blest in either, till his end.
And he whom Fate points to that happinesse,
A thousand passions mocke his doubtfull hopes,
Till Vertue that can never be extinct,
Shall rise aboue their rage, and call downe Hymen,
Attended with as many severall ioyes,
To triumph in the circle of our brow.
Val.
But that the fatall vnion of our hearts,
Should breed such issues of extremity,
In both our fortunes, yet the greatest griefe
I feele, is in your wrongs, not in my owne.
Aur.
Nere thinke of it; what though my father made me
A stranger to his loynes, and cut me off
From my inheritance, because he thought me
A rivall in his loue, that fatall loue
Whose jealousie prevayl'd so in a Woer,
That it kild all affection in a father.
These ill begotten thoughts he still maintayn'd,
And cherisht to his death, whose period
Of life, was the beginning of my mischiefe:
For he gaue all the land unto my brother.
One lesse deserving, would I could report
That he had any worth, his il wrought mind,
Too apt for the impression of all vice,
As if he were to striue with his estate,
And had no other Enemy, would make
A conquest of his ruine. So negligent
Of what his father wrongfully bereft me,
That he spends all in ryot, and so vainely,
As if hee meant to throw it after him.
Too weake to sustaine, or prevent his fall,
But no solidity of mind or judgement.
And now imagines he can salue it up,
By being stil'd, A Fine Companion.
Let that intitle him to all my right,
Whilst I secure in my imputed crime,
Thinke thee a better portion; all my fault
Was honesty, and true affection.
Val.
And those still envious fate insults upon.
But we will liue together, and what ere
Shall interpose to poyson our true loue,
Still triumph o're their malice.
Aur.
Deare Valeria,
Had fortune pleas'd to place me in that meanes
My birth assur'd me, we had spent our life
Luld in the lap of peace, our dayes had runne
Smooth as the feet of time, free from all tumults.
Val.
And why not still?
Aur.
It may doe so, but I
Haue not a fortune equall to your vertues,
And to support the title of your worth.
Val.
My mind was never yet ambitious.
And there is nothing but your company,
Can satisfie, or limit my desires.
Aur.
I loue you better then to iniure you.
I will resigne you to some richer heire,
Whose heapes of wealth left by his greedy father,
Vntoucht as is your goodnesse, may advance you,
And make you happy, thinke on't, be not cruell
To your owne selfe.
Aur.
Oh how haue I deserv'd that you should thinke
So ill of me? you may divorce the Iuy,
The Vine from her embraces, me you can not.
Where is the care you wont to haue of me?
What is my fault? you can be well without me,
And I shall please you best when I am absent.
Aur.
Nay my Valeria doe not weepe so sore,
Thy griefe adds more to mine, it is enough
I part from thee, my heart with drops of blood,
This treasure of thine eyes, if spent for those,
That lye unterr'd, wanting their funerall rites,
And restlesse walke upon the Stygian strand,
So long as fate has limited their curse,
Would send them over to Elisium.
One grain of that same griefe which clogs her heart,
Would lye in ballance 'gainst the vniuerse.
The ioy and happinesse of all mankind,
Are given to me in her, and she was borne,
T'upbrayd the world, and tell them they are false.
Val.
What shall I doe when you are ravisht from me?
Could Portia rather swallow glowing coles,
Then burne with a desire of her lost Brutus?
Shall the example of those times descend
To shame my loue? Could the Ægyptian Queene,
Rather endure the poynant stings of Adders,
Then that of death which wounded Antony?
And must I then surviue you? can I liue,
When you that are my soule are taken from me?
Oh tis not now as when Penelope
Could stay ten yeares the comming of her loue,
And span a tedious web of foolish thoughts,
In expectation.
Aur.
Faith that fled to heaven,
And truth, that after once mens hearts grew cold,
Would goe no longer naked, now againe
Are come to dwell with mortals. Here's a woman,
In whose comparison all wealth is sordid.
And since she proues so constant, fate it selfe
Shall not be blam'd for me that I forsooke her.
Scena. II.
Enter Littlegood.Lit.
Are you so well resolu'd? but I may crosse you.
Ual.
Oh me my father, I am quite undone
I am no body.
Lit.
Yes, you are the wickedst,
The most vngratious child, that ever liu'd
Vnder so good a government, but that
Can not distinguish of the difference.
Haue I, what should I say? cherisht you up,
With tendernesse, and costly education,
To haue you made a Sacrifice to beggery,
To one that's cut off, disinherited,
The sonne of the people?
Aur.
Pray sir forbeare,
My wrongs doe not permit you to abuse me.
Lit.
Sir tis most basely done of you, to use
The charity, and freedome of my house,
Thus to seduce my daughter: but for that
If you can keepe her as well from your mind,
As I can from your sight, you may in time,
Learne to forget her. You were best goe travell,
Repaire your selfe by some new found plantation,
Not thinke to supplant my issue. This place,
Is moraliz'd with thrift and industry,
Suites not with men of your condition,
That haue no stocke but their gentry. Get you in,
And for your part sir, know my house no more,
Ile provide her a husband. So farewell.
Aur.
How ere I speed, comfort attend thee still,
And so my best Valeria fare well.
Scena. III.
Carelesse, Fido.Car.
Nere tell mee on't, a Gentleman must shew himselfe
to be a Gentleman.
Fid.
I so he must sir, but in you there's small resemblance
of one.
Car.
Come you are an importunate Asse, a dull heavie fellow,
and I must beare with you must I? by this light I will
not liue out of the blaze of my fortunes, though it last but a
minute, to linger out a tedious siege of adversities.
Fid.
Yet you may liue with more credit, at a competent
rate as your land will allow you.
Car.
Land? there was my unhappinesse to haue any, I was
borne to none, 'twas meerely thrust upon me, and now I can
not be quiet for it; tis like a wife that brings a thousand impediments;
in peace, your Magnifico stops his great horse to salute me,
an other treats of marriage, and offers me his daughter, your
Advocate racks me with impertinences, and to free my land
from incumbrances troubles me ten times worse, what with
friends and Counsellors, fellowes that seeme to me of an other
species I could resigne my interest.
Fid.
All this sir is a grace to you, if you conceiue it.
Car.
I'le sell all, twere a sinne to keepe it. When didst
thou know an elder brother disinherited, and the land continue
with the issue? now for me to liue thriftily upon it, were
no otherwise then to mock fate and contemne providence.
Fid.
But now you know the danger, you may prevent it.
Car.
What should I dote upon casualties, trust Scriveners
with my money, fellowes that will breake, and all the wit in
Towne can't solder them up againe?
Fid.
You may scorne my advice, but when tis too late—
Car.
I tell thee, I'le keepe no land, nor no houses, candle
rents that are subject to fire and ruine, I can't sleepe for feare
of them; theres no danger in coyne, twill make a man respected,
drinke, and bee drunke, weare good cloaths, and liue
as free as a Parthian.
Fid.
But when all's gone, where's your respect, and gentility
then?
Car.
Where ist? why in my blood still, wee'l both runne
one course nere out of the vaine I warrant thee.
Fid.
If you can hold in this vaine tis more lasting then a
minerall.
Car.
Prethee good honest, old patcht peece of experience,
goe home and weare thy selfe out in contemplation, and
doe not vexe me with problemes, they can doe no more good
upon me, then a young pittifull Lover upon a Mistresse, that has
the sullens.
Fid.
Well sir, I could willingly waite upon you in the way
of honour and reputation.
Car.
No no, you shall not need my homo frugi, goe about
your busines, and though men of my quality, doe seldome
part with any thing, for good vses, for Gamesters and Courtiers
haue but little charity, yet for this once, I will trespasse
against custome, and here's something to put you into a fortune,
me, and my occasions.
Fid.
I see yet in his good nature a reluctancie against ill
courses, hee has not quite shak'd off his humanity, there are
hopes to reclaime him; if not sir gallant, when all is spent,
the returne of this money will be gratefull; and so farewell.
Exit Fido.
Car.
Adiew, and commend me to my Vncle, tell the Mechanicks
without, that I vouchsafe them admittance. I will
not spend all in whoring and sack. I will haue some cloaths
of valew, though they be but to pawne in a vacation, for this
purpose I haue sent this morning to consult with the authentiall
iudgements, of my Taylor, Sempster and Haberdasher;
and now am I studying with what state I shall use them.
Scena 4.
Carelesse, Taylor, Sempster, Haberdasher.Car.
Come in fellowes, I sent for you together, because you
should receiue your instructions: I am to make mee a suit, and
I would haue you determine, about the forme and the accoutrements,
for the fitting of the points and the garters, and the
roses, and the colours of them. Nature is much beholdiug to
you, though there be a difference in the accidents, yet you can
reconcile them, & make them suit handsomely together. I am
a Gentleman, and would not be disgrac'd for my irregularity.
Tayl.
You say well sir.
Care.
I tell you my disposition, I am wholy addicted to rarities,
things that are new take me; new plays, new mistresses,
new servants, new toyes, new fangles, new friends, and new
fashions, and these I deale with, as in a quarrell I would not
be behind hand with any of them.
Semp.
Sir you shall command our endeavours:
Car.
I thought fit to take your advise, & you are beholding
to me, you are the only men in the world that can rule me.
Hab.
Sir for curiosity wee haue the maydenheads of all the
witts in Europe, and to your service wee will imploy both our
art and our industry.
Car.
I am informed of your qualities, I heare you are men
of intelligence, by this light I wonder the state is not afraid
of you.
Wee hope they haue no reason for that sir.
Care.
Yes, you are dangerous followes, and haue plots and
devices upon mens bodies, and are suspected to bee sorcerers,
that can transforme a man into what shape you list.
Tayl.
It pleases you to bee merry sir.
Care.
Nay by this hand, 'tis given out, that you are great
schollers, and are skild in all the habituall Arts, and know their
coherences, and that you are a kind of Astrologers, observers
of times and seasons, and for making of Matches, beyond all
the gallants in the Kingdome.
Tay.
We would match things as neere as we could sir.
Care.
And besides that, you are proud of your knowledge,
for when you haue once got a mans good name, you make
what account you list of it.
Hab.
Not so sir.
Care.
Yes, and presume upon't, and thinke vvhat ever injury
you doe a man, you can bee saved by your Booke This is
true, and care not a pin for the Law, for you hold good Custome
to bee farre beyond it.
Semp.
We would be loath to giue any Gentleman distast sir.
Care.
I must commend you, in that you are not partiall, for
you make the like reckoning of every man. Well, to the purpose.
Tay.
You'l haue your suit of the Spanish fashion?
Car.
What with two wallets behind me, to put up faults
and abuses, or else Ile cashiere my men, and they shall serue me
for attendants, hangers on, ha? No by this aire, I am too good
a gentleman to haue my arms trickt up with such gewgawes.
Tayl.
Sir, you must be conformable.
Care.
Well, I am content to be perswaded: when shall I
haue them?
Tayl.
You shall not misse within these three dayes, and what
else is requisite, ttust to my care to apply it.
Care.
Well I am satisfied, and hereafter beleeue mee, as I
beleeue thee.
Enter Boy
Boy.
Sir, Master Spruse is come to visit you.
Car.
Master Spruse? prethee bid him come vp. Well, ther's
a Gentleman, of all I know, can justly claime admiration, for
his complement, his discourse, his habit, his acquaintance, and
then for profering of curtesies, & never doing any; I may giue
Hab.
Pray sir, when did you see the noble Captaine?
Car.
Who Captaine Whibble; Masse now I thinke on't thou
shalt goe seeke him out, and entreat him to meete mee at the
Hors-shooe Tauerne at dinner, I loue that house for the signes
sake, 'tis the very print of the shooe that Pegasus wore, when
hee broke vp Helicon with his hoofe, and now in relation
of that, your Poets and Players, still haunt about the brinkes of
it. Sirrah tell him withall, that Master Lackewit the Cittizens
sonne will bee there, and other good company, and wee vvill
have musicke and vvenches, goe thy vvayes, and you Master
Snip, meet me about three a clocke to take vp these commodities,
so novv I haue done with you.
Scena V.
Carelesse, Spruse, with one garter vntyed, and a blacke Boxe at his girdle.Spru.
Saue you Master Carelesse.
Care.
Master Spruse you haue much honour'd mee vvith
your presence.
Spru.
I mett vvith a disaster comming vp, something
has ravisht the tassell of my Garter, and discompos'd the
vvhole fabricke, 'tvvill cost mee an houres patience to reforme
it; I had rather haue seene the Common wealth out
of order.
Care.
Sure it was not fast tyed to your leg.
Spru.
As fast together, as the fashion is for friends now
adayes to be tyed, with certaine knots of complement, which
the least occasion dis-joynes. Ile onely tucke it vp, and when
my better leasure permits, reduce it to perfection.
Care.
What box haue you there?
Spru.
A conceit, a conceit, a rare invention one of the happiest
that ever my witt teem'd withall.
Care.
Blesse me with the discovery.
Spru.
You shall sweare to be silent then.
Care.
As close as that covering.
Spru.
Then looke you, I will participate the mystery; this
petty fogging boxe promises that I have great suits in law, this
is to delude the world now: But I must tell you I am a kind
Care.
Very pretty, proceed.
Spru.
What doe you thinke I have in this boxe then?
Care.
I know not.
Spru.
A bundle of blanke loue letters, ready pend with as
much vehemency of affection, as I could get for money, only
wanting the superscription of their names, to whom they
shall be directed, which I can instantly, and with ease indorse
vpon acquaintance.
Care.
And so send them to your Mistresse?
Spru.
You vnderstand mee. I no sooner sall into discourse
with any Lady, but I professe my selfe ardently in loue with
her, and being departed, returne my Boy with one of these
Letters, to second it, as I said passionately deciphering how
much I languish for her. Which shee can not but deepely
apprehend, together with the quicknesse and promptitude of
my ingenuitie in the dispatch of it.
Care.
Ile practise this device. Prethee let mee see one of
them, what's heere? To the fayre hands of—
Spru.
I there wants a name, they fit any degree or person
whatsoever.
Care.
Let mee see this then. To the Lady and Mistresse of
his thoughts, and service.
Spru.
There wants a name too. They are generall things.
Care.
Ile open it by your favour sir, whats heere? Most
resplendent Lady, that may justly bee stiled, the accomplishment
of beautie, the Seat and mansion of all delight, and vertue, in
whom meete the joy, and desires of the happie. Some man
heere perhapps might feare, in praysing your worth, to
heighthen your disdayne, but I am forc'd though to the perill
of my neglect, to acknowledge it: For to this houre my curious
thoughts, and wandering, in the Spheare of feminine perfection,
could never yet finde out a subiect like your selfe, that could so detaine
and commaund my affection.
Spru.
And so it goes on: How doe you like it?
Car.
Admirable good, put them up againe.
Spr.
Nay I haue so strange a wit, few men do jumpe with it.
All my delights are steept in Elegancie,
And censur'd by an Arbitration,
Before I doe approoue them; I haue searche
The rare inventions that I am verst in,
My severall Garbes and Postures of the body,
My rules for banquetting, and entertainment:
And for the titillation of my laughter,
Buffoones and Parasites, for I must tell you,
I still affect a learned luxury.
Car.
You haue a very compleat suit on too me thinkes.
Spr.
Tis as fresh as the morning, and thats the grace on't,
a new Play, and a Gentleman in a new suit, claime the same priviledge,
at their first presentment their estimation is double.
Car.
And whither now doe your employments direct you?
Spr.
I tooke your lodging by the way, I am going to dazell
the eyes of the Ladies with my apparition.
Car.
I am not so conformable as I could wish, or else I
would attend you. I tooke up a new man, for pitties sake,
some three dayes since, to waite upon me, which foolish sinne
I will abandon whilst I liue for it. Hee ran away with two
hundred pounds, the remnant of a morgage, and since that I
was put to a new perplexity to supply me.
Spr.
By this hand, if you had spoke but yesterday I could
haue furnisht you.
Car.
Why what a rare way is here now, to engage a man
for nothing? I must study it.
Spr.
How does your brother digest the losse of his inheritance?
Car.
Very well sure, for sometimes he has nothing else to
digest; and hee has enough of that too: it sticks in his stomacke
worse then a Surfet. Alasse wee landed men are but
fooles to him, it makes him sober, and wise, very temperate.
Spr.
Theres Valeria a foolish peevish thing that he cals
Mistresse, good for nothing but to whet a mans wit, and make
a Whore on, I can't beleeue there's any reall loue betweene
them.
Car.
Has she received any of your Letters?
Spr.
Yes twenty, and nothing will prevaile. I haue sought
to corrupt her any time this twelue moneth, and can doe no
good on her, her father giues me opportunity out of pretence
of good will, but I use it cleane contrary; for alasse, I can
not loue any wench farther then to lye with her. I can not
not willingly loose all this time and labour. I'le make short
of it, either worke her to obedience, or doe her a mischiefe.
Car.
Tis well resolved, and there's her sister Æmilia. She
will glance sometimes affectionately upon me; were it not a
mad thing, when I haue sold all my Land to her father to get
her into advantage? I thinke that will be the end of it.
Spr.
Me thinkes Lackwit her brother might stand thee in
some stead for the conveyance.
Car.
Well tis the truest spaniell that, I put a hundred
jeers upon him, and yet he loues me the better, I can pawne
him as familiarly as my cloake.
Spr.
The time cals upon me.
Car.
Ile dismisse you, will you present my service to the
Ladies and excuse me?
Spr.
I shall bee proud to make my tongue the Organ of
your commands sir.
Car.
I will hold you no longer from your happinesse, but
I shall envie the intercourse of your mirth.
Exeunt.
Scena. VI.
Dotario. Fido.Dot.
Then he is past hope?
Fid.
Hee has no sense of his misery, a strong stupidity, a
lethargy has possest him: his disease is infectious, it has
caught hold of his estate, & brought that into a consumption.
Dot.
No meanes to reclaime him?
Fid.
I know not what to apply, when remedies are hurtful,
giue him good counsell, and you poyson him.
Dot.
I would my brother had beene better advised, then
to giue his Land to a Prodigall.
Fid.
Fitter indeed the right Heire should haue had it: you
might doe well to turne your compassion upon him: a poore
iniur'd Gentleman, and stands equall in your blood.
Dot.
No Ile marry a wife, and get an heire of mine owne,
I haue made a motion to Master Littlegood the Vsurer, about
one of his daughters, and wee are partly agreed, I am going
to aske her good will in it.
Fid.
Looke you sir. Pray stand by, here hee comes with
his trayne.
Car.
Is it not well resolu'd Captaine?
Cap.
Yes by the soule of Hercules, tis a good foresight, to
sell all and prevent misfortunes. The world's full of uncertaineties:
Land may be barren, servants deceitfull, make money
I say, & what a man spends with his friends, shal ne're perish.
Lieu.
I say by the heart of valour, that man liues best at
ease, that has no money at all.
Car.
What shall he doe then Lieutenant?
Lieu.
By the faith of a souldier, for the exercise of his
wits hee may doe any thing: if all trades fayle he may turne
Pimpe, tis a noble profession to liue by, if he can performe
that office well, hee need aske no more of his Genius.
Capt.
Body of me, nor no better preferment.
Lieu.
As I am a sinner tis a good science, a mathematicall
mysterie of undermining holds, and when the breach is open,
be the first man that shall enter.
Car.
But I thinke there bee so many of them, they can
hardly liue one for an other.
Lieu.
As I am vertuous tis growne into credit, and you
haue very good men that study it. Good Knights and Squiers
that haue thriu'd by it.
Capt.
Stab me, what sullen Saturne is that, lookes so oblique
upon us, as I am Martiall I will confront his aspect.
Car.
Good Captaine be appeas'd, it is my Vncle, I can not
avoyd him: let me entreat your absence for a while, meet me
at the Horse-shooe.
Cap.
Fire of my blood you shall rule me: come Lieutenant.
Exeunt Cap. Lieu.
Scena. VII.
Dotario, Carelesse, Fido.Dot.
Shall I speake or hold my peace?
Car.
E'ne which you please, good Vncle.
Dot.
I tis all one to you, for any impression I shall make:
would I could refraine to take notice of thee, but still nature
over swayes me, and affection breaks out into counsell but to
no purpose.
Car.
Troth vncle youth will haue his swing.
Dot.
I upon a Gallowes, if you hold on, that will bee the
end of you. That I should liue to see my brothers goods so
Car.
Horseleaches, doe you know what you say? no, you
doe not apprehend the worth that dwels in these men: to see
how a man may be mistaken in the distinction of vertue.
Fid.
Nay sir, tis as I told you, you may as soone recall an arrow
when tis flying, or a stone from præcipice, as reclaime him.
Car.
Oh vncle, that you should thus carpe at my happines,
and traduce my Camradoes, men of such spirit and valour.
Dot.
Yes, Captaine and Lieutenant, how a vengeance
came they by these titles? fellowes that haue beene onely
flesht in the ruine of blacke pots, and glasse windowes, the
very skum of all rudenesse.
Car.
Haue you any money about you?
Dot.
What to doe?
Car.
Bribe me to keepe counsell: you are but a dead man
if they know on't: you haue puft out your soule in their calumnies.
Fid.
Hang them fellowes so sordid, that no disgrace can
sticke upon them, they are choyse company; for there's hardly
the like of them. A man cannot discerne the ground of
their discourse for oaths, unlesse you were divorc'd from all
reason, you would not be wedded to such acquaintance.
Car.
Why how now mungrell, are you barking? by this
ayre tis an indignity to my discretion, that is so happy in the
election of their vertues: the onely prime wits in towne,
things come so rarely from them, a man is kept in a perpetuall
appetite. I would not let them stay to offend you, neither can
I endure their reproach. Farewell vncle.
Dot.
Well I will not trouble my selfe any more to looke
after him, Ile marry, and thrust him out of all, that's the conclusion.
| A Fine Companion | |