 | Totenham Covrt |  |
Act. 4.
Scœn. 1.
Enter Hostesse, Ciceley, Bellamie.Hostesse.
Feare not Mistris any of their attempts in my house: you
have your instructions and my ayde. Make use of any
thing I owne for your honest ends, and if you need my person,
I am ready in my barre at your call.
Exit.
Cice.
We thanke you Mistris.
Why should you feare the execution
Of my desires? why are women subject
To that disease? or else hath nature chose it
To shew the difference? I was meant a man sure;
For I have Masculine resolutions,
Which no deluding spirits can abuse
With their mis-guiding; nor imperfect moone-light
Mock with false shadowes. Danger frights not me.
Bella.
Doubt of my lov'd friends safety (without whom
My soules abilities are dead to use)
Hath numb'd the sense of action: I'm all passive.
Of horrid battailes, and his persons danger;
When as the murdering Canons choak't the ayre
With their curl'd mists, their lowd noise ushering death
To his black triumph. A little custome made it
To be my pastime. Those were dangers past;
But these to come.
Cice.
You have a soldier sweet-heart,
And no more courage! what a race of Cowards
Would spring from that loves joyning? for Physitians
Say women have most right in the conception.
Were but our causes chang'd (our cases are)
I'de tell this brother all; and if his love
From a pretence of care deny'd me ayde,
I'de schoole him soundly. Come, come, you shall tell
Your Brother that I love him.
Bella.
Love my Brother?
Cice.
Your Brother Mistris. If my beauty can
(Which ha's beene flatter'd for a taking one)
Win upon his desires, I'le soone worke him
To what you please. Nay, rather then the project
Should faile of a successe, he shall enjoy me;
But fairely.
Bella.
Ayde me now discretion. Would you
Make me an agent to undoe my Brother;
And but for such meane ends?
Cice.
Why gentlewoman,
Disparage not my low condition.
Perhaps misfortune meant it not my birth;
That might be noble as your owne, though boasted
From th'heraulds Catalogue of dead Ancestors.
My father oft hath told me when my fingers
Prest the Cowes dugges, and from their fulnesse drew
Aboundance of white streames, that Nature meant not
These limbs for labour. But this may appeare
The flattery of my selfe.
Into what maze
My dangers lead me! I'th middle ther's a Monster,
If I goe on, will ruine me: if back;
I want an Ariadnean Clue of policie
To be my guide.
Cice.
If you'l preserve your selfe
From a discovery, you must counterfeit
Some other passions; or clothe these in mirth.
The second Scœne.
To them Iames, presently after George.'Tis shut agen sweet Mistris. If it offend you, I will
buy my pardon at your owne rate.
Cice.
What would you have sir?
Iam.
A little pleasure Sweete. Come, come, what's
your price?
Cice.
You sure mistake me sir.
Iam.
As if I had not practis'd wenching sufficiently to
understand a dissembled modesty: because I am a stranger,
I'le come to your lodging when I know where 'tis. But say
your price? halfe a crowne?
Cice.
Have I found you gallant? I am dearer Sir; that's
my maids rate. The truth is I have my Maiden-head yet,
and have bargain'd with a gentleman below for it.
Iam.
Let me have it; I'le double his reward.
Cice.
I love to be as good as my word. Sure sir hee'd kill
you if he knew of your attempt. That's he sir.
Knock.
Iam.
And my young valour dare not encounter him.
Cice.
Your Citie-borne coward never make's fortunate
whoremaster.
Iam.
Would I were safe.
Cice.
Best hide your selfe in this sir.
A handsome convenience. When hee's gone, release
me.
Cice.
Feare it not sir, but be sure you lie still. Open the
dore maid; and doe you heare? get the key of the truncke.
Bella.
What may this come to?
Geo.
Pardon me faire one. My intrusion tends
To begg a happinesse; please you to crowne it
With your consent and welcome?
Cice.
What's in me
To grant, you shall command.
Geo.
I take your word.
The pleasure of your bed. I will reward it
With a new gowne and angels; dally not
In any coy deniall.
Cice.
Not in this place.
But if you please—
whisper.
Bella.
New jealousie instructs.
My feare this woman's naught, and such a one
As sels her selfe to sinne. What fates conspire
To make me miserable?
Geo.
'Tis a motion
Sutes with my liking. The paines will make the pleasure
More sweet in the enjoying.
The third Scœne.
To them Franke.Fran.
Courting her!
George, 'tis not friendly.
Geo.
Mischiefe on suspition.
I've given you all the flattering commendations
That might confirme her love.
Fran.
No more; I thanke thee.
Geo.
I leave yee. Now to my practice of revenge,
Above Elizium.
Exit.
Fran.
Deare, when shall my love
Be happy in enjoying what it makes
The object of desire? Shall this faire morning
Be consecrate to Hymen?
Cice.
Worthy Sir,
Such is the difference 'twixt your birth and fortune,
And my condition (whose inferiour ayme
Dare not be level'd higher then it's equalitie)
Makes (cowards pollicie,) feare, to be th'excuse
Of my delaye. For were you satisfide
With that which you call pleasure; and satietie
Had ta'ne the edge off, what's in me can whet
New appetite, and revive a dying love?
Your estimation branded with the infamy
Of a base choyce: taunts from the mouth of envy:
Aspersions to beget a killing jealousie.
And when you shall reflect—
Fran.
Prethee no more
These needlesse doubts. I'm arm'd with preparations
For my resolves, that no assault can batter.
Cice.
Pardon me sir; there's ground of circumstance
To build a faith on, that your desires end
Is my enjoying for your senses pleasure,
Not the converse which love instructs the soule in.
Fra.
Why should false feares make such a bad construction?
Prethee no more.
Cice.
But I must search you throughly.
Y'are noble sir; and now I will unmaske
This false complexion of an hypocrite,
Which hitherto deluded your opinion
But with a shew of vertue. The truth is
My inclination's wanton; and this day
I meant to make a sale of that, for which
You have so fairely bid: my Maiden-head.
Fran.
What doe I heare?
Cice.
The gentleman that left me, is the Merchant.
A price is likewise set upon the ware.
The time and place of enterchange appointed.
The meanes: a porter in that trunke must carry me
Vnto his chamber: You seeme troubled Sir
At the relation.
Fran.
'Tis to trye me sure:
She cannot meane it. How my thoughts rebell
Against their guide?
Cice.
Troth sir, I must confesse
Your person likes me better, and the love
You have profest deserves my gratitude.
Meete you this porter, and compell him with you;
You shall enjoy me first, and afterwards
When I set up the trade be still more welcome.
Fran.
Should this be earnest, it would make me happy
Above mine owne desire; and should she mock me,
'Twere but returning to my first intents.
Some way I must enjoy her. Shall this practice
Give me those sweets have beene so long deny'd
With counterfeited modesty?
Cice.
Be sure sir;
My Tutor in the Art left me instructions
To take the fairest offer.
Fra.
My reward
Shall treble his. Be constant to my pleasure,
I'le keepe thee like a wife; and serve thy will
With full content.
Cice.
That as your liking pleaseth.
When you are weary, I'le but begg your bounty
For a new wardrobe to set up with.
Fran.
How mans desire
Pursues contentment! 'tis the soule of action,
And the propounded reason of our life.
Yet as the choyce appeares, or grosse or excellent,
In our opinion either of the object,
Or of the meanes that workes it. Why should I
Alter a resolution? The contentment
Is still the same: and a farre easier meanes
Without that tye necessitates the will
To a fixt bounds. Besides, my credit's safe.
To keepe a Mistris youths excuse may serve;
But an inferiour match brands my posteritie,
If equall blood commixe not. Hence then scruple,
And all that frights faint conscience. Sweet I welcome
The freenesse of your kind and loving promise
With as much joy, as can possesse a heart
Made joviall by th'effest of all it's wishes:
Be constant to it.
Cice.
Be you confident;
I cannot be diverted from my purpose:
The end's too pleasant. Pray prepare your selfe;
The time drawes on.
Fran.
And till my expectation
Ends in that full possession of delight,
Times wings are clipt. So farewell sweet till then.
Exit.
Cice.
And farewell base desires. May thy soule lust
Make thee still credulous, till abuse and shame
Teach thee amendment. What an Oratour
Is Sin? that paints it selfe with golden words
Of pleasure and delight; as if the soule
Had it's eternall being and full powers
But for the senses satisfaction:
And their enjoying it Creations end.
Now to our Comedie. Ha! fast asleepe!
This fits our purpose. Lock it fast.
Bella.
Will not the feathers choake him?
Cice.
Hee's arm'd against mischances. Give it the Porter,
I must withdraw.
Exit.
Bella.
Now I perceive
Out-shines her outward beauty. But what use
Can my misfortune make of't? yes; th'example
Shall teach me how to counterfeit, if I
Can force my passion to it.
The fourth Scœne.
To her George, Tapster, Porter.Now wench, is all ready?
Bella.
I have pack't her up in't, like a Bartholmew-babie
in a boxe. I warrant you for hurting her.
Geo.
'Tis a good wench. I'le give thee a new gowne
for it.
Bella.
I thanke you sir. When you are weary of my mistris,
and cast her off (as I know you must have change) you
shall have my maiden-head at the same rate if you please:
I'le keepe it for you.
Geo.
'Tis a bargaine.
Bella.
But two words to it. Pray sir use her nere the
worse for my promise.
Geo.
The better. I'le turne her off within this fortnight,
and send for thee.
Bella.
Oh sir, 'tis not fit a servant should shift her Mistris
trencher before the bones are cleane pick't. You have
flesh enough to hold out a moneth.
Geo.
It shall be a moneth then?
Tapst.
Be carefull Porter of your carriage.
Port.
Married? that I am to a freemans widdow, and I
weare the Citie-Armes by her first husbands copie.
Geo.
The Porter is deafe sure.
Bella.
Pray sir let me aske you one quesiion.
Geo.
Quickly then.
Bella.
How many maiden-heads have you bought thus?
Some nineteene with thy mistrisses.
Bella.
Pray sir, let mine make up the score: an even
reckoning.
Geo.
It shall, it shall: heere's for thee Robin.
Tapst.
The trunck is worth more sir, besides the feathers
that are in it. But to doe you a pleasure.
Geo.
Helpe dim downe stayres with it.
Tapst.
Heer's a Totenham-Court project translated over
the water from Holland.
Geo.
Farewell wench.
Exeunt.
Bella.
Adue good sir, with your faire bed-fellow that
must bee.
Would straine my heart-strings to pitch of laughter,
And make my spleene dance. But his losse hath kill'd
All sense of joy.
Ciceley returnes.
Cice.
Now Mistris, what thinke you of it?
Have I not tane a course to punish lust?
At least wise with disgrace. Though custome calls
Those actions onely honest, that are glorious
In publique fame; yet sometimes to dissemble
An ill that's not intended, when the end
Hath cleer'd it to opinion, it attaines
The greater praise.
Bella.
Indeed, I must confesse
My feares possest me strongly you were noughe:
Nor is suspition grounded on due circumstance
To be accounted ill. But now my knowledge
Instructs me better to commend your vertue;
And steere mine owne course by the faire example
Of your discretion, were the like attempted
Vpon my chastity.
The fifth Scœne.
To them, Sam.Now must I practise unaccustom'd impudence.
By your leave gentle creatures: may I have my turne now
for a little sport? Nay, nay, sweetheart, thou shalt serve:
thy Mistris is too deare; and I am loth to pay over-much
for repentance. 'Tis but changing offices: let her hold
the dore for thee.
Cice.
Pray sir, speake and meane civilly; you'l not be
welcome else.
Sam.
Good Lady light-heele; give your servant leave
to practise the trade you have taught her. That such perfections
as appeare in this woman should be sold to every
base desire. Come wench, thy browne complexion pleaseth
mee better then thy Mistrisses: thou dost not paint,
and art the likelier to be wholsome.
Cice.
Good gentleman, hee is jealous, and would circumvent
her.
Sam.
Heere's halfe a crowne wench; me thinks 'tis a
faire rate. Ha! finger in the eye? Keepe thy teares for
pennance in Bride well. Crye when money's offer'd thee?
Bella.
Oh Brother.
Sam.
Ha! are you my Sister?
Bella.
Your Sister Bellamie.
Sam.
Why shee's in the Countrey at mine Vncles,
Teaching her hand some neat industrious practice;
Or painting with her needle the rare forme
Of some choyce flower; to her busie servant
Discoursing Moralls; or perhaps at prayers,
Or meditation: these were her exercises;
Not prostitution. What an impudence
Is this imposture?
Temper your anger brother,
For it appeares i'th wrincles of your brow.
And let not passion burne your jealous feares
With an intemperate heat. I have a story
You'l pitty, though all naturall affection
Were quite extinguisht.
Sam.
Then you are my Sister?
Bella.
Dissemble not those doubts; but heare me.
Sam.
Noe.
I'm deafe to all excuse. 'Tis too apparant.
Possesse me vertuous rage; make me the instrument
Of a religious justice.
Bella.
Guard me innocence.
Sam.
Oh that the knowing soule, which can distinguish
It selfe and powers; should yeeld her government
To the lascivious appetite of sense:
And under such a base subjection
Ruine her noble parts. True estimation
Is grounded on the actions of the minde:
And to determine bravely, well as honestly,
Must be the last, and most refin'd digestion
Of a high flying nature. Such should hers be.
She wanted not th'instruction, nor example
Of worthy Parents, that honour is the most
Essentiall part of life, and valewd 'bove it.
Cice.
Good gentleman, hee's troubled.
Sam.
Oh hypocrisie,
Thy painted showes must likewise mock our judgments
Into an apt credulitie, that makes
Bad worse by the dissembling. Had shee wanted
Or meanes of power or fortune to discover
This inclination; like the Serpent numb'd
With a long rigidnesse, forbeare's to sting
His warmers bosome, not because he hath not
A poyson; but because the force thereof
Is feebled by the cold.
You seeme disturb'd sir.
Sam.
Who'l ever trust devotion, or believe
That any zeale is earnest? I should rather
Have call'd an Eremite hypocrite: or suspected
Th'austerities of an Anchorite to be
But for vaine-glory or a common fame,
Then her appearing goodnesse. Fury prompts me
To a black act. 'Tis well I have no sword.
But may she not survive her first repentance;
Which shame or punishment shall teach her quickly.
Lustfull insatiate whore. Could not a husband
Have coold your bloud?
Bella.
You need no other weapon,
she sownes.
Those words have kill'd me.
Cice.
Ay me, what have you done sir? helpe, helpe.
Sam.
If it be earnest, cur'd a wounded fame.
My reputation would have bled a little,
Had she liv'd longer infamous: her death
May lose the memory of her dishonour.
Cice.
Good gentlewoman she faints. Helpe, helpe.
The sixth Scœne.
To them Keeper, Slip, Worthgood.Keep.
The cry came from this Chamber.
Slip.
'Sfoot sir, 'tis Mistris Ciceley, and Ciceley Mistris.
Ha, ha, sir; did you put her to the squeake? I'le
put you—
Keep.
Hold sirrah.
Wort.
Looke up my love: ha! What malicious chance
Begets this new prevention of our happines?
Oh let our soules together climbe the height
Of their eternitie; if fate denies
Other enjoying.
Bella.
'Tis my Worthgoods voyce.
That Orphean Musicke charmes my senses backe
Welcome againe: I never more will lose thee.
Sam.
What are you sir, that seeme thus tender of her?
Worth.
I give no answer to uncivill questions
With calmer words. And yet I scorne to strike,
Vnlesse I saw some armour for resistance.
Bella.
This is my Husband Brother, farre as vowes
Can joyne us, till Church-ceremony hath
Confirm'd it stronger.
Worth.
Hee your Brother sweet?
His pardon first; then leave I may embrace
His worthy love.
Sam.
'Tis not your complement
Can win upon me. If your worth deserves
My Sisters love (I hope my Vncles care
Hath well examin'd it) freely ejoy
What you desire: But my opinion is
Scarce settled yet. You seeme a Gentleman.
Worth.
And am one: that was giv'n me in my birth.
If not, my sword hath purchas'd it.
Cice.
With leave
I would relate the accident to satisfie
Your curious love; which makes you doubt that ill
Ne're stain'd a thought in her: and for my selfe,
My life's untouch'd by envy.
Keep.
Gentle sir,
Let my perswasion worke upon your temper;
And make it pliable to forgoe all jealousie,
And misconstruction. Something is reserv'd
In mine owne knowledge, shall disperse those clouds
That muffle error in their misty rowles;
And makes it blind in all things but in mischiefe.
Sam.
If Bellamie be vertuous, shee's my Sister;
And shall not lose that interest.
Keep.
Now Ciceley,
'Tis time that you disrobe.
By no meanes father.
My part's not ended yet.
Bella.
Please her accept
Th'exchange as my thanks gift; since to her care
And full discretion I must attribute
My safety. Something's now in action,
By her begun from an ingenious practice,
Will make the end more comicke.
Cice.
But 'twill turne
To a sad Tragedy, if I enjoy not
This worthy gentleman.
Keep.
A larger roome
Were more convenient. Please you sir the house
Is well accommodated.
Worth.
What's more to be expected
Can crosse or crowne our loves with new events?
Exe.
Slip.
Goe you wayes and quarrell no more, lest I
bee stickler with this terrible Embleme of a Butchers
cruelty.
Exit.
The seventh Scœne.
Enter Changelove, Wife; Stitchwell in a Chayre asleepe.Wife.
The effects of drinking, Mr. Changelove: his head
should be troubled with something else, were he rul'd by
me. But he cares not for my counsell, nor mee. I could
eene curse mine own kindnes, that am ready still to make
more of him then he doth of me.
Chang.
Why doe you not then—
Wife.
What sir? I warrant you meane make him a
Cuckold.
Chan.
That's a grosse construction. Give a friend leave to
do you a pleasure, or so. The truth is Mistris I love you.
Wife.
You were ever kind Mr. Changelove.
And would your freenes give me leave t'enjoy
Those sweets, although forbidden, 'twould be a happines
'Bove my desire. Be assur'd my secrecie
Is firme as night and locks.
Wif.
Secresie, Mr. Changelove? I would have you know
I will be open to all the world. I'le doe no more in the
darke, then in this very place, were my husbands eyes
open.
Chan.
Here then. He sleeps securely, never dreaming
Of any foreheads arming.
Wife.
Fie Mr. Changelove, you are such a tempter. Pray
forbeare, many a woman would not hold out so long.
Chang.
Consent then sweet; wee'l to it.
Stitch.
Ware hornes there.
Chan.
Mischiefe, what noise hath wak't him?
Wife.
An infirmitie hee hath to talke in's sleepe. Nay I
assure you hee will rise sometimes and doe the office of
a waking man in his dreame, and not know of it in the
Morning.
Stitch.
Rome for one of the headmen in his Parish: a
monster of his wifes making.
Wife.
Wicked man; hee dreames now that I would
make him a Cuckold.
Change.
Send it be no counterfeit.
Stitch.
And have I tane you sir Lancelot? would you be
billing with my Guiniver?
Puls Changelove by the eares.
Chang.
Helpe me Mistris Stitchwell.
Wife.
Take it patiently Sir: his fit will bee over presently.
Stit.
For this attempt King Arthur doth here degrade
thee from a Knight of his round Table, to bee a Squire of
his Wifes body. So conduct me to her bed; where I will
beget a race of warriours shall cage thy great Turkship againe,
and restore Constantinople to the Emperour.
Chan.
You mistake: oh. My Perriwig is not a Turbant.
Peace follows victory, let us now to rest.
Wife.
Pray sir, forgive him: I dare undertake hee'l be
sorry for it when he wakes. If anything I can may make
amends.
Chan.
Prove his dreame true. When the smart's over
I shall forget it.
Enter Tapster.
Tap.
A quest of inquiry is sent all the house over to
looke you Mistris. The gentlewomans maid was in a
swound: they wanted your assistance.
Stit.
Who wants assistance? who breaks the Kings
peace? fetch me my Constables staffe.
Chan.
Hee'l dreame againe: had I best stay?
Wife.
Now drunkard, are you recoverd yet?
Stit.
Wife and Mr. Changelove, wheres the company?
Wife.
Gone, being weary of such a sot as you make your
selfe. Pretend a walke for health and recreation, to bee
drunke so early? I had done well to have served you in
your kinde: here were gentlemen enough that would
have brought me home; and some not farre off that used
me kindly, whilst you snorted to fright fleas, and dream't
perhaps some wickednesse of me.
Stit.
Prethee peace sweet wife: Ile mend all.
Wife.
I promise you, you shall never mend me, till you
doe better your selfe.
Stit.
I'le buy my pardon for it with a new gowne, and
a journey into the Countrey next vacation.
Wife.
You know Iohn I am easie to be wrought upon.
Tap.
Will you discharge the reckoning Mr. Changelove?
Chang.
Not willingly: I doe not love it. No revenge
upon this dreaming tyrant over unpaid for gallantry? A
protection to defraud him is long since provided. What
is your reckoning, Robin?
Tap.
Nine and three-pence sir.
Chang.
The particulars.
Tapst.
Cakes two shillings. Ale as much. A quart of
mortify'd Claret eight pence. Stewd pruins twelve pence.
They were deare.
Tap.
Truely, they cost a penny the pound of the one-handed
Coster-monger out of his wifes fish-basket. A
quart of Creame, twelve-pence.
Chang.
That's too excessive.
Tapst.
Not if you consider how many Carriers egges
miscarried in the making of it; and the charge of Ising-glasse
and other ingredients to cremisie the soure milke.
Chang.
All this is but a Noble.
Tap.
Pray marke me sir, I'le make it more. Twelve-pence
Sugar. You had bread sir.
Stit.
And we had drinke sir.
Tap.
'Tis granted sir. A pound of sausedges, and other
things, nine shillings and three-pence. Our Barre never
erres.
Chang.
I'le talke with your Mistris. You know my meaning
Robin.
steales away.
Wife.
Oh the extortion of Tottenham-Court!
Stit.
No matter Wife: kinde Mr. Changelove will pay
for all. Ha! where is hee?
Tap.
Gone Sir.
Stit.
Then give me my Cloake.
Tap.
The reckoning first Sir.
Stit.
How! must Taylors pay Gallants reckonings?
Wife.
Sure husband, he intends this a satisfaction for his
beating.
Stit.
Have you such tricks? No great matter: 'tis but
adding it to his bill in my debt-booke, and presently arresting
him with a fat Martiallist. Here sirrah.
Tap.
Y'are welcome Sir. Some profit comes from hence;
I have ore-reckon'd one and twenty-pence.
Exeunt.
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