 | The Scots Figgaries : Or, A Knot of Knaves |  |
Act. IV.
Enter Soonegul'd, and his Wife Lay me down.Soon.
Down with this Babell-builder, this Court pride,
Dagon and his Idolaters shall down.
Lay.
I, down with 'em husband, down with 'em, they have stood
long enough; I am sure their long standing have made you come
short many a time and often, but I hope now husband you'l take 'em
down a Button hole lower.
Am not I a man?
Lay.
You think so husband, I warrant.
Soon.
Why, a King's no more.
Lay.
Nay, is he that husband? troth I dare say our man William is
as good a man as the best of you; for as they say, a man is a man and
he has but a hose on's head.
Soon.
Well, I am resolv'd William shall forth.
Lay.
Forth, how do you meane forth? I hope you will not leave
me unprovided at home; you know your own business abroad, and
I am certaine he can do your business at home better than your self—
oh husband, husband here's the Scotch Doctor.
[Enter Jocky, Folly, Billy, Scarefoole.
Soon.
Mr Doctor, what news Mr Doctor?
Joc.
Nen geod sir, nen geod sir, bet me frond ha had hes cass pul'd
ore his lugs.
Soon.
By whom, by whom?
Fol.
Wha, wha, bet tha prod Prelates sir; Ise tolld 'um o thair knavery,
an thay gar tack awey me brawery; bet thoough thay ha tacken
awey me Cot, thay sall ner tack awey me conscience, that's holl
an sound, an ned nen o thair pachings o thair preachments.
Lay.
O wicked, wicked children of darkness!
Joc.
Her's a frond o min sir, a mon a meight an mettell, wha ha endured
meny a brunt and storme, he sall stond betwixt ye in aw
harme.
Soon.
I shall be glad of your acquaintance sir.
Lay.
True, truly sir, you have a face like a man, you'l do the business
I warrant, let you alone, but gently to the women sir, for we
are twigs, and may be bow'd which way you list; meere tender
twigs sir.
Scar.
Bred, bet sam o ye bien toough enoough.
Lay.
We are a long time indeed a bringing up, but then we are
soone cast downe; women have tender hearts, and tender flesh, and
tender consciences, though naughty men report that we have none;
husband shall they walk into th'Parlor; I do love to enter into Dialogue
with these Gentlemen, they talke so prettily.
Soon.
I, with all my heart.
Lay.
You will meet with sir fine Plunder 'mong the Ladies; you
shall dine with us too—you may make me amends with a Court
smock; I look to weare one in truth, they are so fine and so perfum'd,
it passes.
Come sir, wee'l discourse of our affaires
After w'ave din'd—you'l dine with us too Gentlemen?
Joc.
Wees tack ye ot yar word.
Exeunt.
Enter Anything, and Boyes following him.
Any.
Nay, you may do't sirs, you may do't, you have warrant
for't; 'tis well enough known, the Pompe of the Prelates, the
Whore of Babylon her selfe in her feathers, the Kings of the earth
commit fornication with her Pluralities of Benefices makes men but
idle, saies Mr Doctor, and idleness makes you fat, and fat makes you
pursy, and so by consequence short winded; It is a trick of Rome to
starve our Religion; Let Iezabell be brought before the Elders, and
the whore of Babyilon to the Whipping post, let her have lash upon
lash; let her smock be given to the Rag-men, it may come to be Paper,
and her Condemnation writ in't; let the Whelpes and the Cubs
be brought to the Stake, baite 'um, baite 'um, baite 'um, I am your
warrant saith Mr Doctor.
Boyes.
Master Doctor's an Ass.
Any.
Children you talk not like men, you are but midling Christians,
'tis well known to the Parish.
Boyes.
That Bedlams fit for you.
Any.
Those that will follow me, let 'um follow me,
And the Covenant in sooth.
Exeunt.
Boyes.
Hi, hi, hi, Stow the Frier, stow the Frier.
[They sing.
Exeunt after him.
Enter Downfall and Worn-out.
Down.
You see what he has brought me to, my Crutches;
I was ere held an able man you know;
Had my tongue at Command, and my head too,
But now they both are so enfeebled I
Have scarce the use of either; if I had
It were all one, the Countrey People are
Be witcht into beliefe, they have as much
Reason and Law as I, and will become
Their own Sollicitors, and Councell too.
My Crutches will deceive me, and I fall
To th'ground for ever.
Worn.
—I am brought to nothing
As well as you, I little thought a Scotchman
Could ere have dreind my Veins, and purse so dry,
I am not worth the ground I go on; so
Dejected are my thoughts; my spirit lost,
And all the hopes of my recovery
Extinct and buried.
Down.
I should not have known you,
Had you not told me who you were; you are
So changed from your self. Oh those were times,
Worthy to call to mind, (though to our griefe)
When you and I, like Twins, deriv'd a being
From one anothers sustenance, the Monopolies
That you projected, and I perfected!
Like two expert Limners, the one imploy'd
To fashion th'face, the other to finish it.
Wor.
—I, those were times indeed, but all I got
Then, has been since consumed; and I guess
You are not much the better; I am weary
I protest of my life, and would thank him
Would do me so much good as take it from me.
Dow.
—Patience is the best remedy where no
Better can be obtain'd; 'tis vaine to crave
The thing we want when 'tis not to be had;
Your dancing daies are done, and all the breath
The Scot has left me scarce will heat my fingers.
Worn.
—And my affliction does the more increase
To see my friends disabl'd, as I am,
From helping one another, 'tis a griefe
That's inexpressible, and not for cure.
Down.
—What Fortune sowres, content must sweeten, he
Is the best man o'rcomes his misery.
Exeunt.
Enter Smallfaith and his wife.
Smal.
—For my part, I am but a man, and I owe but a death,
come, let them come—where are they? stand, stand, stand.
Wife.
Husband now you talk of standing, pray let me lye down,
and then let 'em do their worst, I defie 'em.
Smal.
And so do I, wee'l to the Terret, Woman, and there we
are secur'd 'gainst Devill, and Parsevant.
Wife.
—I'm weary'd off my legs with doing nothing but running
up and down in e'ry Nooke and Corner like a Rat for feare of
catching.
Smal.
—They are comming, they are comming; let me come in
woman, let me come in.
Wife.
I would you would come in husband once, you have been
out long enough to small purpose I'm sure.
Exeunt.
Enter Surehold, Resolution.
Res.
Beleeve it, their Design aimes at our ruine;
And though the Cord they make be some what finer
Than Ordinary, 'Twill choak us at the last;
I hold a naked freedome better far
Than an adorned Prison; golden fetters
And Iron ones produce a like effect,
What differs them's but curiosity.
Sure.
Into what a Lethargy has these rabble Scots
Betray'd the peoples senses? tell them on't
And they'l abuse you for't. Nay, though they see
Distraction brought unto their very doores,
They'l look on't, and not know it till they feele it,
And then will tamely kiss the Rod that whipt 'em.
A Nation proud and Arrogant as the Beggar,
That when h'as got a Bonnet 'bove his wearing,
Will scarce bow to the Giver. All the service
They ever did this Nation was to help
The people eat their victuals, and share their fortunes.
Res.
Th'are good for nought, but to eat, louze, and sleep,
And stinck a street up. Tell you stories of
Don John of Austria, the Magull, great Cham,
Their valour at Madril, Levant, or where
In fume and smoake, rouz'd up with lanted Ale,
'Till that their faces do resemble th'Towns
They set on fire; And yet dare not encounter
A Rat or Weesell.
Sure.
—Yet the world reports
Them, men for siege the best, and can endure
The greatest hardship.
Reso.
Very true, if they
May but ly still they'l feed on one another,
Rather than venture on their Enemy
To get the least Provision, and indeed
The worst will serve their turne, for they are men
Loves any thing but beating, yet they'l take
That too if need be; take 'em down a little,
And you may fillip dead a score of them.
It is a shame the English should become
Such mules to such base burdens; I'm resolv'd
To turne the Chance o'th' Dy that favours them,
Though to the hazard of my being.
Sure.
—'Twill
Be tane a peece of service fit for Chronicle,
And you shall want no furtherance.
Reso.
If I bring not
The Souldier, Doctors, and their Crue of Cheaters
As tamely to be hang'd as puppy Dogs,
Let me receive no credit from you after.
Exeunt.
Enter Soonegul'd and a Seminary Priest going to weigh the Covenant with the Popes Bull.
Soon.
Sir, though I hate your Bulls, and your Decoyes,
And know you have two ends to all your waies;
I feare you not, for Truth will shew her selfe
In spight of all the clouds you cast upon her.
Sem.
You are in th'right. Truth will appeare, and that
To th'shame of your trim'd Covenant; for though
She be but plaine, she is more glorious
That new devise, Created to deceive
Poore simple people, and at last your selves.
Soon.
These are but bandying, Ile pursue my wager.
Sem.
Ile venture ten pound more y'are lost in weight.
Soon.
You'l lose your selfe sir with your confidence.
Sem.
Bar treachery and I care not.
Exeunt.
Enter Trapheire, Witwud, and Townshift.
Wit.
I cannot endure this fighting Coz, a Dad.
Tra.
Pox take your Dad; is that an Oath for a Gentleman?
A Lad at ten sweares more profoundly; you'l
Be quarrelling, and then you dare not fight;
As though I were a wall of Steele or Brass,
To stand betwixt you, and receive the Darts
Cast at you; Sir, why did your Cowship send
An Answer to your Challenge, if you found
Your bloud so Coole and Phlegmatick?
Wit.
'Twas your doing—I had not had the heart else.
[aside.
Town.
For preservation of your honour sir
Could you do less than Answer him?
Wit.
What was he
That brought the Challenge?
Town.
Pinckcarcase by name.
Wit.
A devillish name, and full of devillish ends;
This fighting is not lawfull; prethee Coz
Take up the matter, I have little maw to't.
Town.
What, now the Hostage Reputation
Is past, will you Recant, Reneage, Revoke,
Recoyle, Revert? stand to your Principles.
Wit.
I shall not stand an inch of ground beleeve me.
Tra.
'Tis pitty th'art worth any; let me see,
How shall we do't with Honour?
Wit.
'Tis no matter
For that thing Honour; let her walk alone,
I don't desire her Company on such tearmes,
Sweet Coz, sweet Coz.
Let me see—I'm resolv'd
That you shall fight him.
Wit.
Coz, I had forgot
I sweare, a strange infirmity, that is
I zound when as I heare a Gun shot off,
And tremble at a Pistols, all my senses
Become as uselesse.
Town.
Why, 'twas your own motion.
Wit.
No matter, 'tis but so much charges lost,
I will not fight with Bullets, I've more conscience.
Tra.
Why, then you must prepare a Case of Rapiers,
For Townshift and my selfe, ours are grown dull
With often usage.
Wit.
Oh, the better Coz!
They'l do less mischiefe.
Tra.
Then your fencing Master
Must make you at your Chamber fit for th'field.
Wit.
That's past his skill I'm sure; more charges Coz.
Tra.
It cannot be avoided if you mean
To fight on foot, and put off your Horse combate.
Wit.
In my mind 'tis horse-play to fight on foot;
But hark you Coz, don't you make winking at
That Weapon ye call sharp, I'm not so set.
Tra.
Fye, winking, No, how will you see to hit him:
Wit.
No matter so he hit not me; but mayn't I
Bar Points being the Challenged?
Tra.
That's base, and Player-like.
Wit.
I'de rather play so, than worke otherwise.
Town.
Come, come, resolve, you know the time draws neere.
Wit.
I would it did not, I love not to think on't;
Can we throw nothing in Times-way to make
Him stumble, and stop a little.
Tra.
Resolve upon your weapon ere he be
Furnish'd with horse and Pistols.
Town.
Ile lay my life he's that already, then
'Twill be unworthy in you to—
Wit.
Good sir, talk not to me of Worthies, my Father was none
of the Nine; he ne'r kept Company with your Huffs, nor Puffs; he
liv'd without knocks, and dy'd in the love of his Parish.
Tra.
But he has left a quarrelsome son behind
Must pay for all.
Wit.
I sha'n't stand much upon
That point, so I may be discharg'd from beatings;
Methinks a skin set out with Eylet holes
Appeares not handsome, nor a face to be
Painted with black and blew, I hate those colours.
Town.
What will you give him shall take up the business without
loss to your honour?
Wit.
A man cannot lose
That which he never had; My Father was
A man of Bags, and might have been a Knight
When Knighthoods went a begging.
Town.
But to the matter,
What say you to my proposition?
Wit.
Troth.
It sounds well, let me see now what in Conscience
You will demand?
Town.
But twenty peeces.
Wit.
So;
To save a man from beating, very good!
How many such d'ye meet with in the yeare?
Town.
Hundreds, hundreds sir.
Tra.
Men must live Coz, men must live.
Wit.
Any where but on me (good Coz;) but sir,
Before my Coz here, Ile give you ten.
Tra.
Ten is too little in all conscience Coz.
Town.
Consider sir the danger.
Wit.
And the Charge
Already I've been for horse and Pistols;
But those I hope you will return me, when
The peace is made.
Tra.
Not one, expect not one,
Th'are forfeit Goods to us Lords of the Soile.
Town.
'Tis true, y'ave been at charges, and for that
Reason Ile undertake it at your rate;
Meet us at th'Mairmaid.
Tra.
At the houre of twelve.
Town.
The precise time.
Tra.
Cozen, he will deserve it.
Wit.
Would I had his Art
To live by when I and my fortunes part.
Exeunt.
Enter Wantwit, Drawforth, Pinckcarcase.
Pinc.
He is the Challenged, and justly may
Designe the way of fighting, and the Place;
But though you have provided us with Horses,
Swords, Pistols and so forth, yet there's a thing
Cal'd money, we do want, put case he should
Fall by your hand, in what a case were we?
Drawf.
Suppose that you should fall;
—I, there's the Danger.
Drawf.
We must fly for't, and that we cannot do
Conveniently, without a sum, the Oratory
Of Silver makes our passage free and safe,
The want of it detaines us; open, open
Your close-mouth'd bags, and let them speake to us.
Want.
Troth Gentlemen, Ile tell you, and I lie not,
Th'ave got a hoarsenesse since they came to Town,
And speak so low, a man can hardly heare 'em.
Pinc.
One Mortgage sir will raise their voice againe.
Want.
Well, well, he might have ta'ne another way
To worke; had I been he, and he been me,
I would have askt him Mercy.
Drawf.
But you see
He is a man of spirit, spirit, sir!
Want.
I would he had no more then I, a gnat
Is better furnisht; I have heard my Mother
Protest, and solemnly, I had a heart
No bigger than a hazell Nut.
Pinc.
—Why, saw she't?
Want.
No, but she felt it; 'tis an imperfection
I warrant as a Cucumber.
Drawf.
And riseth
So little in your stomack!
Want.
Troth, as little
As may be sir; how shall I heat it Gentlemen?
Drawf.
Drink wine and Drab.
Want.
Why, so I do you know;
Yet when the flame of drinking's o'r, I fall
Into the Noose of Taverns, like a Pigeon.
Pinc.
Only then y'ad best fight when y'are drunke.
Want.
And so
Be hang'd when I am sober; no, I beare
Too great a Conscience.
Drawf.
If it be a burthen
Too hard to beare, wee'l teach you how to throw
It off, and live as we do without any.
Want.
Take up this quarrell Gentlemen, and have
My heart for ever.
Pinc.
What to do, to throw
The hounds ye starve? yet that so little, 'twill
Not be a mouthfull; 'tis your money we
Value the most, let your heart go as't came.
Want.
Why, I shall mortgage next weeke.
Pinc.
Are you serious?
May we give credit to you?
Want.
I've occasion.
Drawf.
Thou shalt have more rather than want; my Bully,
We are thy Guardians, who assaults our ward
Suffers, unlesse he be on a sure Guard.
Exeunt.
| The Scots Figgaries : Or, A Knot of Knaves | |