 | Covent Garden |  |
Act. 1.
Scœn. 1.
Enter Dvngvvorth, Ralph, and Dobson, as newly come to Towne by the right Scœne.Dobson.
Now we are come to London, fellow Ralph
what shall we doe? or what course will our
Master take with us?
Ralph.
Why, Dobson; he may doe what
he will, and wee will doe what we list. A
little instruction and practice will make
us wicked enough, I dare warrant thee.
Dobs.
I hope we are not to learne that. But all this while
the Plough stands still.
Ralph.
Sha, Dobson; thy mind's upon not hingbut dirt.
Dobs.
Indeed heer's store of it, ankcle deepe.
Dung.
What place is this Ralph? thou knowst London.
Ralph.
It should be Covent-Garden; but 'tis
much alter'd since I was here last.
Dungw.
A Garden call you it! 'Tis a very barren one.
Dobs.
I would I were at home againe, amongst the
Creame-bowles.
I cou'd be content to have the tother smacke at our
Gillian the Dayry-Maids sugar-candy—
Dobs.
How, fellow Ralph! you kisse my Sweet-heart
Gillian! pronounce it againe, and by the faith of a new
made Serving-man, that puts his whole trust in his Livery
and the Quarter-dayes, I will kill thee presently, and challenge
thee the next Holi-day before the Congregation.
Ralph.
Kill me first, and then challenge me! for a kisse
or two! nay, good Dobson; she has lips big enough to serve
us both. Prethee lets not fall out and beat one another:
these people would but laugh at us for't.
Dobs.
Indeed 'tis a jolly company. Dwell they all here
abouts?
Ralph.
I scarce thinke they are all of one Parish, neither
doe they goe to one Church. They come onely for an evening
recreation to see Covent-Garden.
Dobs.
Blessings on their hearts for it. 'Tis a goodly place.
Ralph.
And a godly one too if rumour lie not.
Dung.
What are all these things with rayles?
Ralph.
I thinke mewes for hawkes, or ayrings for gentles.
Other hawkes are not here in any request.
Dung.
Mewes for hawkes, thou wouldst make mee a
Buzzard.
Dobs.
Dost thinke we shall dwell here abouts?
Ralph.
I hope so: we shall then be neere the Cock-pit,
and see a Play now and then.
Dobs.
But tell me Ralph, are those Players the ragged
fellowes that were at our house last Christmas, that borrowed
the red blanket off my bed to make their Major a
gowne; and had the great Pot-lid for Guy of Warwicks
Buckler?
Ralph.
No, Dobson; they are men of credit, whose actions
are beheld by every one, and allow'd for the most part
with commendations. They make no yearely Progresse
with the Anatomy of a Sumpter-horse, laden with the
sweepings of Long-lane in a dead Vacation, and purchas'd
buy not their Ordinary for the Copie of a Prologue; nor
insinuate themselves into the acquaintance of an admiring
Ningle, who for his free comming in, is at the expence of
a Taverne Supper, and rinses their bawling throats with
Canarye.
Dobs.
But I would I had stay'd still in the Countrey,
now Sports are tollerated, in despite of Justice, Troublesome's
malicious Authoritie. I had rather see a Morris-dance
and a May-pole, then ten Playes: what care I for
wit which I understand not?
Ralph.
The duller Asse thou.
Dobs.
How, Asse to my face! provoke me no more
with such foule language, lest I enter and act thy Tragedy.
Ralph.
Nay, prethee fellow Dobson; if we abuse our
selves sometimes, 'twill be the better taken when wee abuse
others.
Dung.
To morrow Ile have you accoutred in liveries,
and put my selfe into a gentile garbe. I am resolv'd to forsake
the Countrey profession of mine Auncestors; and
meane to turne Gallant. Ile sell some few dirty Acres, and
buy a Knighthood: Ile translate my Farme of Dirt-all into
the Mannor of No-place. Would I were acquainted
with an honest Scrivener.
Ralph.
You wish an impossibility, unlesse the Pillory
were more terrible.
Dobson.
But doe you meane to sell your Land?
Dung.
Yes indeed; I shall be the likelier to goe to heaven
when I forsake earth.
Ralph.
But 'tis a dangerous way through a Scriveners
conscience.
Dung.
What dost tell me of danger! 'Tis the Cowards
bug-beare; a scar-crow to City gulls, that dare not weare
swords for feare of being challeng'd.
Dobs.
Nay, my Master is as tall a man of his inches.
Dung.
Yes, Dobson; thou hast seene me doe something.
see Crop eat his meat.
Dobs.
Ile warrant Sir, hee'l eat his meate, and 'twere
Good-friday.
Ralph.
Had he but eares then, hee might make a very
good Puritan horse.
Dung.
Indeed, their best vertue is to heare well.
Ralph.
But their doing sometimes, begets a hotter zeale
in the Sister-hood.
Dungw.
I'le have a lodging heere. Prethee aske that
Gentlewoman; shee seems an inhabitant.
The second Scœne.
Enter Mris. Tongall , by the right Scœne.Ralph.
Pray Master, know you hereabouts any convenient
Lodgings?
Tong.
Many Sir, for convenient persons.
Dungw.
Of credit, and unsuspicious.
Tong.
It is not in my understanding; wherefore the
satisfaction I can give you will be doubtfull. I know none
of my neighbours better then my selfe. I have as handsome
Lodgings as any are in Covent Garden: my fore-roomes
have a faire prospect, and my back-roomes a
sweet ayre.
Ralph.
Which is not usuall backwards.
Dung.
May we see them?
Tong.
If you please to let that Taverne receive you
till I have made them ready, I will returne and give you
notice.
Dung.
I'le sup there: shall I intreat your company?
Tong.
I shall be ready to fulfill your desires.
Dobs.
And we our bellies: hitherto, we have had but
a hungry journey of it.
Dungwell and Dobson goe forth by the left Scœne.
My friend, pray what's your Masters name?
Ralph.
What if it be not in my Commission to tell you?
Tong.
My demands are civill and for no hurt. I must
know before my house can give him entertainment.
Ralph.
But I must not tell you, till I have a mind to it.
You may be the agent to an Informer: doe you not correspond
with the Sumner and Apparitour, to keepe your
selfe off some deserv'd punishment.
Tong.
I am a patient bearer.
Ralph.
Not unlikely, I have heard there are many such
in Covent-Garden.
Tong.
I meane with your unmanerlinesse.
Ralph.
If a downe-right. Countrey thing will please
you.
Tong.
A downe-right! you make me blush.
Ralph.
This interest then, and—
Tong.
So Sir, the termes are not equall for such familiaritie.
Ralph.
Why then you must seeke you a more proportion'd
Schoole-master to enter you farther, and teach you
my Masters name. The Wine stayes, and I want it.
Tong.
Good friend stay a little, and tell me thy Masters
name.
Ralph.
What agen! Fare you well, I have forgot it.
Tong.
Nay, prethee friend: my knowledge of it may
much concerne his, or (if not) thy good. My daughter
Iynny's a handsome girle, he that pleaseth me best shall
have her.
Ralph.
I rather thinke hee shall have her that pleaseth
her best, else I shall doubt her for a woman. But how
can she concerne our goods? your instance.
Tong.
Nay, credit me upon my word, 'tis earnest.
Ralph.
A Womans word! 'tis not worth an ounce of
feathers. Besides, you may be under covert barne. Have
you not a Husband?
Tong.
Yes indeede.
What's his profession?
Tong.
An under-Lawyer, an Attourney.
Ralph.
His word may be taken in the terme for a gown-facing
or so: but to doe any man good, is worth a double
fee, if he performe it. Mistris, if you must know my Masters
name, goe to Carterton in the Countie of Sussex, and
there in the Church-Register you shall finde, that Roger
the sonne of Rowland Dungworth of Dirtall Farme in the
Parish of Carterton aforesaid, was baptised—But stay,
I'le know first if he be resolved to continue a Christian;
'tis ordinary to change names with religion. Besides, hee
means to be a Knight; and Dungworth will stink in the delicate
nostrils of a Lady: it may make the heraulds give
him a mock-coate with three kennell-rakers. Farewell
sweet Mistris, and if my Master chance to lie at your house,
I should be glad if I might lie over your Daughter.
Tong.
Farewell good friend. The Gentleman to lye at
my house! very good. I must project a profit out of
the accident; a new Gowne, or a Beaver, or some composition
with a bond of assurance, when I procure him a
good Wife. Perhaps hee shall have my Daughter Iynny.
Who would thinke this little body of mine were so busie
in stirring actions, Master Theodore Art-love!
The third Scœne.
Enter Art-love by the right Scœne.Artl.
Mistresse Tongall, you are delighting your selfe
with these new erections.
Tong.
Faire erections are pleasing things.
Artl.
Indeed they are faire ones, and their uniformity
addes much to their beauty.
Tong.
How like you the Balconee's? They set off a
Ladies person well, when she presents her selfe to the view
at distance.
Artl.
Pray which is Sir Generous Worthie's house?
Tong.
Your desires (I believe) are bent towards his
faire Daughter. Let me ayd you: my neighbour-hood
hath interested me in her acquaintance; I can make way;
and truely Mr. Art-love I like you so well, that (were she
worthy) you should have my daughter Iynnye. But doe
you love Mistris Dorothy?
Artl.
I have seene her beauty, and her nimble eyes
Have shot a fire into me, that inflame's
My cold desires. I that have resisted
Th'assaults of passion to a perfect conquest;
And call'd it (justly too) the height of folly
To give that wanton Power the attribute
Of a false Deity: I, that have out-gone
Th'example of Zenocrates, am captiv'd;
But by a Beauty, such as would review
Heat in the frozen bosome of an Anchorite,
Who hath spent his age even to decrepitnesse
In such austerities as would mortifie
The strongest pamperd wantonnesse. I covet
A good successe, but faile in't. Never yet
Could I be blest with opportunity
To shew her my desires, and to try
The fortune of perswasion.
Tong.
And would you not use me! hath so long practise
in match-making made me politicke to contrive, and
my conversation with your selfe and the rest of the Wits
made me complementall, and doe you thinke I cannot facilitate
your entrance to Mistris Dorothy?
Artl.
Should I be fortunate in my attempts
To win her liking; should my person please her,
Or that annexion to my better part
Of education, yet the disparitie
Betwixt our states, checks me from hoping
Nere mixeth with the earth, but to confusion:
Or from their severall natures bringing forth
Events prodigious.
Tong.
Why, you are an Heyre to a thousand pound a
yeare. An officious lye may be dispens't with.
Artl.
But simple honesty
Clad in the naked livery of truth
Is a most glorious vertue, that preserves
White innocence unstain'd with falshood.
Good meanes as well as good intention
Must make an act good.
Tong.
If you have such a tender conscience, so religiously
scrupulous, you'l never be a Politician.
Artl.
Let those that study mischiefe
To satisfie their sensualties
Practise such wickednesse. I'de not abuse
A noble goodnes to possesse the Indies.
Tong.
But heere's one will, and I must ayd him int.
Mr. Littleword.
The fourth Scœne.
Enter Littlevvord, Ierker and Ieffery, by the right Scœne.Ierk.
Friend Art-love, the good fortune of a petticote
light upon thee, in the name of Venery what mak'st thou
here? art' in quest of a smock-bedfellow.
Artl.
Thy old humour still friend.
Jerker.
Prethee salute this little gentleman my Cousin:
he hath more age and wit then his small proportion doth
promise.
Artl.
I shall be ready to serve him.
Ieffr.
Your acquaintance will adde much to my happinesse.
He hath gotten leave of his Vncle to liue here in
my tuition. Hee thrive's well in his conceit, a right Ierker;
he begins to love a wench already.
Art.
Thy instruction and example will soone enable
him that way.
Ieffr.
Is not that a wench Cousin?
Ierk.
Try Cos, and satisfie your selfe.
Ieffr.
Mr Little-word, if your salute be ended, pray resigne.
Nay, Mistris, I can kisse you without the helpe
of a joyn'd stoole: please you to walke, and let my hand
support you.
Tong.
Whither pray you little sir?
Ieffr.
To the next vaulting schoole.
Tong.
Alas, you cannot get up without a stirrop.
Ieff.
Yes, and ride too without falling: please yon to
trye my activenesse.
Art.
Prethee recall thy wonted goodnesse home,
And with a vertuous scorne shake off this habit
Of loose desires; it hath infection in it.
Ierk.
Nothing comes from thee but documents. I
sweare I should love thee much better if thou hadst lesse
vertue. I prethee leave thy Stoicisme, and become an Epicure
with me. My little Cos. here shall prove with undenyable
arguments that drinking and wenching are the onely
vertues in a gentleman of the last edition: to be excellent
at them is a master-piece of education. Besides, they
are the onely acumens of wit.
Artl.
Yes, to disease it.
Ierk.
Take heed thy iudgement be not brought in question.
Why diseas'd wits are—
Ieffr.
Better play at small game then sit out. A young
gamester may throw in and in.
Tong.
Very seldome with three dice. Can your littlenesse
cogge?
Ieffr.
Faire play is a gamesters glory. I love to shake the
boxe well, and then let them run their length.
Yes, I confesse it; where there is an union
Of loving hearts, the joy exceed's expression.
That love is vertuous whose desires doe never
End in their satisfaction, but increase
Towards the object. When a beautious frame
Garnish't with all the lustre of perfection
Invite's the eye, and tells the searching thoughts
It holds a richer minde, with which my soule
Would rather mixe her faculties.
Ieffr.
Iudge not of a man by his outward dimensions:
My shape is not so defective to make you doubt performance:
let's finde out a convenient place and try.
Tong.
Alas little one, you'l lose your selfe: you'l never
hit the way home.
Ierker.
'Tis a blisse above the faign'd Elysium
To claspe a dainty waste; to kisse a lip
Melts into Nectar; to behold an eye
Shoot amorous fires, that would warme cold Statues
Into a life and motion; play with hayre
Brighter then that was stellifyed.
And when the wanton appetite is cloy'd
With thousand satisfactions of this kind,
Then follow's th'absolutenesse
Of all delight. But were desire restrain'd
From variation, soone 'twould satiate,
And glut it selfe to loathing.
Ieffr.
Please you to drinke a pint or two of wine? there
may be provocation in it.
Tong.
Preserve your courtesie child, and your money:
Lent's at hand, and then every street wll afford boyes recreation.
Ieff.
Why how now impudence! do you flout a Man?
Ierk.
How, a man Cousin!
Ieffr.
I want not so much of my full age to bee cal'd
a boy.
Artl.
But you must not fall out with the Gentlewoman.
I desire rather to have fal'n in with her.
Ierk.
I would not have you so forward Cousin. You
must be sure to deale with sound ware.
Ieffr.
What care I? 'tis but the losse of a mans hayre;
an excrementall ornament: wit consists not in't. A man
may cover his baldnesse with a periwig, and the fashion
take's away the suspition. I hope I came to London to
learne wit and the fashion.
Tong.
Come Mr. Little-word.
Artl.
Adiew Mistris Tongall.
Exeunt Tongall and Little-word, by the right Scœne.
Ieffr.
I tooke her rather for a Wag-taile.
Art.
What silent Gentleman's that?
Ierk.
His Character in his owne language is I and no;
yet he speaks well in paper. He is a wit, but somewhat
a dull one.
Artl.
What serious affaire have they together?
Ierk.
There are hidden pollicies in the world. Thou
hast a bookish humour; I a wenching one; and why may
not his dulnes dreame of some rich match! Mris. Tongal's
the onely match-maker in the Towne.
Artl.
Those words create a hell of torment in me.
Is there no love
But what's attended by vaine jealousie!
Ierk.
Art thou in love?
Artl.
Yes, passionately.
My dreamings, wakings, thoughts and actions
Are nothing but desire.
Ierk.
I can assoone credit an impossibility. Thou in
love! why 'tis more improbable then the projection of
draining Marsh-land with a wind-mill. But prethee what
is shee?
The fifth Scœne.
Enter Dorothy Svsan in the Balcone.Artl.
See where my comforts Sun
Breaks through a clowd. Oh that this unkind distance
Might be contracted into lesser ayre:
I'de then convey my whispers to her eares;
And teach her understanding what delight
Society hath in it.
Ierk.
Sure thou hast not boldnes enough to speake to
her. Thou wouldst blush, and fall into some patheticall
booke discourse, or tell her the story of Hero and Leander,
to make her tendernesse whine. Tis not the way. Get
accesse to her; and after one mannerly salute, double and
treble thy kisses; tumble her a little, and if opportunity
serve, offer the rest: Magick hath not a Philter like it.
Ieffr.
Is not that a house (Cousin) where the Wenches
are?
Ierk.
Yes, questionlesse.
Ieffr.
I meane in the sense of—
Dorot.
Yonder Gentlemen observe us: let's be gone.
Susan.
Not yet (Mistris Dorothy.) Now I have drunke
a cup of Sack, I must be in love with one of them, him
that seemes most worthy of a gentleuman.
Dorot.
You have fall'n my glove.
Sus.
I'le fetch it.
Exeunt from the Balcone.
Artl.
Blest accident;
Why doe you stop my hast? let me embrace it.
Thus with religious worship doe I kisse
What your white hand hath hallow'd. Ha! shee's gone.
What envious mischiefe intercepts the meanes
Of my desired happinesse! or have mine eyes
Wasted their beames in gazing on the place
Fancying her figure.
Ieffr.
Sure Cousin the gentleman is in love; he talks
very madly.
Artl.
Where are the powers of my intellect?
Reason and understanding have forsaken
Their proper seates, and left strong passions
To triumph o're this captiv'd Microcosme.
Ierk.
Now I see thou art mad: but prethee strive to
conceale it; the place is publique.
The sixth Scœne.
Enter Svsan by the middle Scœne.Susan.
Pray you Sir, did you take up a Gentleumans
glove?
Artl.
It was my happinesse, and 'twould be much increased,
if I might kisse the hand that wore it.
Susan.
As I am a Gentleuman I shall be most carefull
to give your deservings their due commendations.
Artl.
May I be bold to enter with you?
Susan.
You are a stranger Sir, and it may give occasion
of jealousie. But I am my Ladies Gentleuman: I keepe
the key of her secrets, and if you please, her closet shall
conceale you; where you may dispose of Suckets and
Eringoe's for your refreshment. I pray Sir, call not a gentleumans
freenesse immodesty.
Artl.
My behaviour shall deserve your good opinion.
Susan.
Truely Sir, a man could not stand better in the
conceit of a gentleuman at first sight, then you doe in mine.
I hope your goodnesse will not misconster my readinesse to
humble my desires to your disposing.
Art.
You teach me language which my selfe should use:
But if my gratitude doth seeme to want
Verball expression, I had rather act
Ieffr.
This is pretty foolery, Cousin.
Susan.
Sir, you appeare so repleat with goodnesse, that
I presume you cannot but answer the desires of a gentleuman,
who prostrates her love at the feete of your acceptance.
Artl.
Doth she love me? what greater secret
Hath Nature in her Workes then simpathie!
I doe conceive a thousand fond expressions,
Which throng so fast, they choake the passage up,
That none can finde an issue.
Ierk.
Out of fooles Paradise: thou art in it. But pray
you Gentleuman protract not his satisfaction with these
circumstantiall delayes. Whilst Mris. Dorothy and he are
busie, you and I will tast the sweet-meats in your Ladies
Closet.
Susan.
I understand you not.
Ieffr.
He meanes you should lie under him.
Susan.
Fie little one, that you should so offend the chast
eares of a Gentleuman. But to you Sir, the Load-stone of
my heart, that turnes it selfe at your motions pointing still
to the North of your Love.
Ieffr.
Indeed Mistris 'tis a cold corner, pray turne it to
the South, and let my needle run in your Diall.
Susan.
And since the ardor of my desires have urg'd my
blushes to discover them; let not your appearing worth
suffer such a disparagement to contemne a Gentleumans
willingnesse.
Art.
How's this! why friend, did she not seeme to come
instructed (by direction) with an embassie
As to prepare my love?
Ierk.
No, no, she loves thee her selfe. Take her. Me
thinks shee's very beautifull; what pinken-eyes; what
a sharpe chin! Why her features transcend Mopsa's in
the Arcadia.
Ieffr.
Hath she not studied it Cousin, thinke you? and
I have known it in the Countrey in an age-decayed waiting-woman.
Artl.
I cannot answer her; my heart is bigg
With other thoughts; which till I am deliver'd of,
I suffer torments.
Susan.
Vnfortunate Gentleuman as I am, to be thus rejected.
Ieffr.
Will you resigne your interest? I'le court her folly.
Artl.
Take it,
But not t'abuse the others innocence.
Whilst I with sighes draw in th'unwilling ayre
Which she perfum'd at distance.
Ieffr.
Pray Gentleuman could you love me a little? I'm
very sportive.
Susan.
Truly young Gentleman, I doe not know what
I may doe when you come to your full growth.
Ieffr.
Blirt my Ladies Gentleuman, who taught you to
scoffe at a mans person?
Susan.
Cry ye mercy little Sir; you may be the father
of dwarfes. The sack begins to leave working and by this
time my Ladie expects her gentleuman. Farewell, unkind
Sir.
Goes forth by the middle Scene.
Ierk.
Farewell loving Gentleuman. She hath prevented
me. Sure friend she came but to mocke thee. 'Twas
little lesse then downeright impudence.
Ieffr.
Let's to the Taverne Sir, and drowne this passion
in a cup of Canary.
Ierk.
Come, come; I was ordained to doe thee good.
Thou knowst I had a Mistris, whose friends disliking my
wildnesse, marryed her to the Father of the Gentlewoman
whom thou lov'st (hornes be his punishment for it.) She
loves me still; and I doe not despaire of making him Cuckold.
Wee'l arme our selves with a quart or two, and
then I'le bring thee to her.
Ayd me love, wit and fate; that my desires
Burne not themselves without her equall fires.
Ierk.
More passions yet! If thou the marke wouldst hit,
Let Sacke inspire thee: 'tis the Soule of Wit.
Ieffr.
Sack that makes Prophets; gives a Poet birth:
And then a wench; Elysium upon Earth.
Goe forth by the left Scœne.
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