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Scena III.
Enter to them Cypher like a Water-man.Cyph.
Pray which is Mr Plotwell?
Plotw.
I'me he friend,
What is your businesse?
Cyph.
Sir, I should speake with
Yong Mr Seathrift too.
Plotw.
Sir, at this time,
Although no Crab like you, to swim backward, he is
Of your element.
Cyph.
Upon the water?
Plotw.
No
But something that lives int. If you but stay
Till he have slept himselfe a land Creature, you may
Chance see him come a shore here.
Tim.
Oh—my—head—
Oh—Captaine—Mr Francis—Captaine—Oh.—
Plot.
That is his voice Sir.
Seath.
Death o my soule my son?
Cyph.
He is in drink, Sir, is he?
Plotw.
Surely friend,
You are a witch, he is so.
Cyph.
Then I must tell
The newes to you, tis sad.
Plotw.
Ile hear't as sadly.
Cyph.
Your Uncle, Sir, and Mr Seathrift are
29
Pl.
Drownd?
Cyph.
They went ith' Tilt boat, Sir, and J was one
Oth' oares that rowed 'em, a Cole-ship did ore run us,
I scapt by swimming, the two old Gentlemen
Took hold of one another, and sunk together.
Br.
How some mens prayers are heard? we did invoke
The sea this morning, and see, the Thames has took 'em.
Plotw.
It cannot be, such good newes, Gentlemen,
Cannot be true.
Ware-h.
Tis very certaine, Sir,
Twas talke upon th'Exchange.
Seath.
We heard it too
In Pauls now as we came.
Plotw.
There friend, there is
A fayre for you; I'me glad you scapt; I had
Gives him many.
Not knowne the newes so soone else.
Cyph.
Sir, excuse me,
Plot.
Sir, it is conscience; J doe believe you might
Sue me in Chancery.
Cyph.
Sir, you show
The vertues of an Heyre.
Ware-h.
Are you rich Ware-house
Heyre, Sir?
Plotw.
Yes, Sir, his transitory pelfe,
And some twelve hundred pound a yeare in earth,
Is cast on me. Captaine, the houre is come,
You shall no more drink Ale, of which one draught
Makes Cowards, and spoiles valour; nor take off
Your moderate quart-glasse. I intend to have
A Musket for you, or glasse Canon, with
A most capacious barrell, which we'l charge,
And discharge with the rich valiant grape of
My Uncles sellar, every charge shall fire
The glasse, and burne it selfe ith' filling, and look
Like a Peece going off.
Quartf.
I shall be glad
To give thanks for you, Sir, in pottle draughts,
And shall love Scotch cole for this wrack the better,
As long as I know fuell.
Plotw.
Then my Poet,
No longer shall write Catches, or thinne Sonnets,
Nor preach in verse, as if he were suborn'd
By him that wrote the whip, to pen leane Acts,
And so to overthrow the stage for want
Of salt or wit. Nor shall he need torment
Or persecute his Muse; but I will be
His God of wine t'inspire him. He shall no more
Converse with the five yard butler, who like Thunder
Can turne beere with his voice, and roare it sower;
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Things for the Buskin. Insteed of Pegasus,
To strike a spring with's hoofe, we'l have a steele
Which shall but touch a But, and straight shall flow
A purer, higher, wealthier Helicon.
Salew.
Frank, Thou shalt be my Phœbus. My next Poem
Shall be thy Uncles Tragœdie or the life
And death of two Rich Merchants.
Plotw.
Gentlemen,
And now yfaith what think you of the fish?
Ware-h.
Why as we ought, Sir, strangely.
Br.
But d'you think
It is a very fish?
Seath.
Yes.
New.
Tis a man.
Plotw.
This valiant Captaine and this man of wit
First foxt him, then transform'd him. we will wake him
And tell him the newes. Ho Mr Timothy!
Tim.
Plague take you Captaine.
Plotw.
What does your sack work still?
Tim.
Where am I?
Plotw.
Come y'have slept enough.
Br.
Mr Timothy!
How in the name of fresh Cod came you changed
Into a sea Calfe thus?
New.
Slight, Sir, here be
Two Fishmongers to buy you; beat the price
Now y'are awake, your selfe.
Tim.
How's this? my hands
Transmuted into Clawes? my feet made flownders?
Arrayd in Finnes, and scales? arn't you
Ashamd to make me such a Monster? pray
Help to undresse me.
Plotw.
We have rare newes for you.
Tim.
No letter from the Lady I hope?
Plotw.
Your Father
And my grave Uncle, Sir, are cast away.
Tim.
How?
Plotw.
They by this have made a meale
For Jacks and Salmon. They are drownd.
Br.
Fall downe
And worship sea-coales, for a ship of them
Has made you, Sir, an Heyre.
Plotw.
This fellow here
Brings the auspicious newes: And these two friends
Of ours confirme it.
Cyph.
Tis too true, Sir.
Tim.
Well,
We are all mortall; but in what wet case
Had J been now, if I had gone with him.
Within this fortnight I had been converted
Into some Pike, you might ha cheapned me.
In Fish-street; J had made an Ordinary,
Perchance at the Mermaid: Now could I cry
Like any Image in a fountaine which
He faines to weepe.
Runs Lamentations. O my hard misfortune!
31
Fie Sir, good truth it is not manly in you,
He feignes to weepe.
To weep for such a slight losse as a father.
Tim.
I doe not cry for that.
Seath.
No?
Tim.
no; but to think
My Mother is not drownd too.
Seath.
I assure you,
And thats a shrewd mischance.
Tim.
For then might I
Ha gone to th'Counting house and set at liberty
Those harmelesse Angels, which for many yeares
Have been condemnd to darknesse.
Plotw.
You'd not doe
Like your penurious Father, who was wont
To walk his dinner out in Pauls, whiles you
Kept Lent at home, and had, like folk in seiges,
Your meales weighed to you.
New.
Indeed they say he was
A Monument of Pauls.
Tim.
Yes, he was there
As constant as Duke Humphrey. I can show
The prints where he sate holes ith'loggs.
Plotw.
He wore
More pavement out with walking then would make
A row of new stone-Saints, and yet refused
To give to th'reparation.
Br.
I've heard
Heed make his Jack goe emptie to cousen neighbours.
Plotw.
Yes, when there was not fire enough to warme
A Mastick path t'apply to his wives Temples
In great extremity of toothach. This is
True, Mr Timothy, ist not?
Tim.
Yes. Then Linnen,
To us was stranger then to Capuchins.
My flesh is of an Order with wearing shirts
Made of the sacks that brought ore Cutchyneele,
Copprice, and Jndico, My sister weares
Smocks made of Curran-bags.
Seath.
Ile not endure it.
Lets show our selves.
Ware-h.
Stay heare all first.
New.
Thy Uncle
Was such another Plotwell; I have heard
He still last left th'Exchange; and would commend
The wholsomenesse oth' ayre in Moore-fields, when
The clock struck three sometimes.
Plotw.
Surely my selfe,
Cypher his Factor, and an ancient Cat,
Did keepe strict diet, had our Spanish fare,
Foure Olives among three. My Uncle would
Look fat with fasting; I ha knowne him surfet
Upon a bunch of Raysins, swoone at sight
Of a whole joynt, and rise an Epicure
They undisguise.
From halfe an Orage.
Ware-h.
Gentlemen tis false.
32
Plotw.
My Uncle!
Sea.
And doe you know me, Sir?
Tim.
My Father!
War.
Nay,
We'l open all the plot, reveale your selfe.
Plotw.
Cypher the waterman!
Qu.
Salewit away;
Exit Qu. Salewit.
I feele a tempest comming.
Ware.
Are you struck
With a Torpedo Nephew?
Seath.
Ha you seen too
A Gorgons head that you stand speechlesse? or
Are you a fish in earnest?
Br.
It begins to thunder.
New.
We will make bold to take our leaves.
Ware.
What is
Your Captaine fled?
Seath.
Nay Gentlemen, forsake
Your Company?
Br.
Sir, we wave businesse.
Sea.
Troth
It is not kindly done.
War.
Now, Mr Seathrift,
Ex. Br. New.
You see what Mourners we had had, had we
Been wrackt in earnest. My grievd Nephew here
Had made my sellar flow with teares, my wines
Had chargd glasse Ord'nance, our funeralls had been
Bewaild in pottle draughts.
Seath.
And at our graves
Your Nephew and my Sonne had made a Panegyrick,
And opend all our vertues.
Wa.
Ungrateful Monster.
Sea.
Unnaturall villaine.
Wareh.
Thou Enimy to my bloud.
Sea.
Thou worse then Parricide.
War.
Next my sinnes I doe
Repent I am thy Uncle.
Sea.
And I thy Father.
Wareh.
Death O my soule, did J when first thy Father
Broke in estate, and then broke from the Counter
Where Mr Seathrift laid him in the hole,
For debt among the ruines of the City,
And Trades like him blowne up, take thee from dust,
Give thee free education, put thee in
My own faire way of traffique; nay decree
To leave thee Jewels, Land, my whole estate,
Pardond thy former wildnesse, and couldst thou sort
Thy selfe with none but idle Gallants, Captaines,
And Poets, who must plot before they eat,
And make each meale a stratagem? Then could none
But J be subject of thy impious scoffes?
I swoone at sight of meat; I rise a Glutton
From halfe an Orange; Wretch, forgetfull wretch;
Fore Heaven I count it treason in my bloud
That gives thee a relation. But J'le take
A full revenge. Make thee my Heyre? J'le first
33
Which Lawes doe put into the Inventory,
And men bequeath in Wills with stooles, & brasse pots.
One who shall first be houshold stuffe, then my Heyre.
Or to defeat all thy large aimes J'le marry;
Cypher, goe finde me Baneswright; he shall straight
Provide me a wife. I will not stay to let
My resolution coole. Be she a wench
That every day puts on her Dowry, weares
Her fortunes, has no portion, so she be
Young and likely to be fruitfull, J'le have her;
By all thats good I will; this afternoone;
I will about it straight.
Se.
I follow you.
Ex. Ware. Cyph.
And as for you Tim Mermaid, Triton, Haddock,
The wondrous Indian Fish caught neere Peru,
Who can be of both Elements, your sight
Will keep you well. Here J doe cast thee off,
And in thy roome pronounce to make thy sister
My heyre; it would be most unnaturall
To leave a Fish Land. Lasse, Sir, one of your
Bright finnes and gills must swim in seas of sack,
Spout rich Canaries up like Whales in Maps.
I know you'l not endure to see my Jack
Goe empty, nor weare shirts of Copprice bags,
Nor fast in Pauls, you. J doe hate thee now,
Worse then a Tempest, Quick-sand, Pyrate, Rock,
Or fatall Leake, I or a Privy seale.
Goe let the Captaine make you drunk, and let
Your next change be into some Ape, (tis stale
To be a Fish twice) or some active Baboone.
And when you can find mony out, betray
What wench ith' Roome has lost her maiden-head;
Can mount to'th King, and can doe all your feats,
If your fine chaine, and yellow coat come neere
Th'Exchange, Jle see you, so I leave you.
Plot.
Now
Ex. Sea.
Were there a dextrons beame and two-pence hemp,
Never had man such cause to hang himselfe.
Tim.
I have brought my selfe to a fine passe too Now
Am J fit only to be caught, and put
Into a pond to leap Carps, or beget
A goodly race of Pickrel.
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