 | The Scots Figgaries : Or, A Knot of Knaves |  |
Act. II.
Enter Folly, Iocky, and Billy, very Gallant.Fol.
Y'ar mickle braw sirs, y'ar mickle braw; bred, ye leoke mere
lick Burgemasters noow thon hedg creepers; ken ye your
sells sirs? ken ye your sells sirs?
Io.
Geod feith sir, gif aw that sud ken themsells, wad ken themsells,
nen wad ken us; A me saw sir, I'd rader ha 'um trast me thon ken me,
fur gif thay sudken me reight, thay'd sea me deed tofore thay' trast
me.
Y'ar mickle wise sir, ye ha rob'd a feul sur.
Ioc.
We wish you weele sir, we wish you weele.
Fol.
Sey ye sa sir? y'ar vary cheretable; ken ye me sirs? On's, ye
are gron see loofty you'l knee ne body; wha set you up in tha Deeles
nam? wha, wha put thes gay fethers on your back? eene I, an
noow yol flee awey ta tha Deele, Harke ye me sirs, gif ye bien sa high,
Ise tack ye down wy a Plague ta ye; wha had y'ar intail'd Virmine
tane off ye wy a murren? wha, wha gat ye a—
Bil.
Oour faders and moders sir.
Fol.
Did thay sa sir? bred, gif thay gat ye, thay ner cud gat feod
enough for yar side Weombs; Are you provander prickt noow sirs?
ha, wha am I? ha sirs, ha, wha am I?
Bil.
Oour geod friend sir, blisse you.
Fol.
The Deele wound ye, sleight ye me? On's, Ise sa geod a mon
gas aw in Scotlond, an ha mere siller in me purse.
Ioc.
Anglish stamp sir, I beleev't.
Fol.
Ye beleeft! wha tha Deele cares for your beleeff?
Ioc.
Geod sir, geod sir be sober.
Fol.
Bred, Ise not drunken; ha ye bien at cost wy me sirs? hah!
Ise sall uncass ye sirs, an ge your Arse tha Ayre agen, are ye sa hot sirs?
want ye a Cooler? Bred, Ise ge ye sick a Rattle wy a Rom ore tha
Riggins sall mack your Ribs reore sirs.
Ioc.
Geod your honor put up your wroth, an wees buckle oour
Wots; wees yar on Contremons ye knee weele enough.
Bil.
An sud leove won oder; y'ave a geod Mester sir, an oour Contremon,
wha macks mickle o you.
Fol.
Bred, an Ise mack sa mickle o hum as I can.
Ioc.
He's a geod mon sir, and you ha wot enough.
Fol.
Ken you that mon, ken you that? On's, an ye bien not wud
ye ma ha wot ta chep enough; bet Ise ne body, my benefaits are
noought woorth.
Ioc.
Y'ar aw body sir, wees at your Commandement.
Fol.
Sey ye sa sir? why, noow ye speeke, be vis'd by me, an ye sall
oout wot 'um aw; mind ye me sirs, will ye be avis'd?
Ioc.
Sed ye sir, wy aw our harts.
Fol.
Ise ha ye turn Dooctors.
Ioc.
Ise a Dooctor, a Dooctor; geod feith, wees mack braw
Dooctors.
Mind me mon, mind me; Thes Kingdom's mickle sick, tha
Curt o tha Cety, tha Cety o tha Curt, an tha Contre o beoth, an aw
o 'um o tha Kirke, an tha Law; tha Kingdom's Livergron wy iddlnes
an Raches, and noow noought can cur it bet a Scots Dooctor, ne
matter for your skill.
Ioc.
Geod feith sir, wees ha skill enoough ta bleede its siller vains
Ise warrant ye.
Fol.
Ha bet confidence, lye and dissemble handsomly.
Bil.
Wees y'ar on Contremons sir, doobt it noot.
Fol.
Tha nam o a Scot gis enough ta cur aw their maladies; ge
'um peson an thay'l tack it for a Cordall; perswad 'um thay at sick
thay'l beleeff ye, and gif ye mack 'um sick thay'l beleeff thare in beest
helth, bet ye mon carry sem show o hollines wy ye, an profess aw for
thayr geods.
Ioc.
Sa we sall sir, an tack 'um whan we ha deon.
Fol.
Billy sall gaing toll th'Contre, and tow salt kep behind, an
bien Dooctor here, and gif tow hest wot enoough tow canst noot
wont werk.
Ioc.
Ne geod feith, I sall mack me sell werk enoough, for gif I
can hel ne distampers Ise mack enoough emong 'um.
Fol.
Cam awey than, cam awey.
Exeunt.
Enter Trapheire and Boy
Boy.
—'Twas Morning ere he went to bed sir.
Tra.
—All's one; tell who 'tis, and 'twill be warrant
Enough for your awaking him; 'tis business
I come about, and of concernment too,
That cannot admit delay.
Boy.
Ile venture then to call him sir.
Exit.
Tra.
Do so—if this designe
Of mine prove prosperous, Townshift, it will be
Some comfort to me that I am even with thee.
Enter Boy.
Boy.
He'l waite upon you presently,
He's rising.
Exit.
Tra.
A good Lad—Townshift arme thy selfe, for I am prepar'd
To give thee an assault, and dare thy Action
At Law, if Wit and Sword should faile,
Deare Townshift.
[Enter Townshift.
Town.
By this light I have not slept
the other night at Taverne.
Tra.
Oh this drinking!
This perillous Drinking will destroy us all;
Thy pardon my deare heart, the business now
I come about will try thy friendship.
Town.
How?
I hope no quarrell.
Tra.
Yes, with my base stars.
Town.
But what's the matter, tell me?
Tra.
That's my meaning,
A sort of Rascally Bailiffes dog'd me hither,
And thou knowst if I be once ta'ne I am
A slave perpetually.
Town.
What wouldst thou have me to do?
Wee'l send to Drawforth and the rest.
Tra.
'Twon't do,
They'l make but a disturbance in the street,
Yet I may be surpriz'd for all their Valour,
And then I am undone; the hopes I have
In one I am to dine with lost, which might
Be worth to thee and me some hundreds Bully.
Town.
Send for him, now let him take up the business.
Tra.
What, ere I'm throughly known to him; besides,
Should he take this up twenty more would follow 't,
Who knowing me so low now, do forbeare
To execute their rigour.
Town.
What wouldst have me do?
Tra.
Harke thee, I've thought upon a fine Deceit;
Hast any Patches in thy Chamber?
Town.
Rare ones,
Of all sorts.
Tra.
One to Disguise my face, with a Cloake, would
Do't to the life.
Town.
Sure they are gon, Ile send to see.
Tra.
Oh hang 'em Rogues, th'are sculking at th'Lanes end,
Or some blind Alehouse—Dearest Townshift do't.
Town.
Do what?
Lend me thy Cloake, and Ile contrive a Patch
Shall cover my left eye, they may not know me.
Town.
I know not what to do—I should go forth
My selfe.
Tra.
Nay prethee Townshift—
Town.
Will you leave
Your Sword then, you'l have no—
Tra.
Prethee wouldst have me
Pass by 'em unprovided, put the worst,
They should descry me.
Town.
There's no trick in't Trapheire?
Tra.
No more trick than you see; I prethee meet me in Fish-street
at the Feathers, where wee'l dine; there thou shalt see my
friend, and Ile restore thy Cloake deare Townshift.
[Enter Boy.
Town.
Well, thou shalt ha't—Boy fetch
[Enter Boy with Cloake.
My Cloake and patches—'tis thine, there take it.
[Gives it him.
Tra.
Gramercy; Is't hansome?
Town.
Very well; I must lie down and take a Nap at twelve;
I will not faile to meet thee.
Exit.
Tra.
Sirrah boy, be sure you wake him.
Boy.
I warrant you sir.
Exit.
Tra.
Ha, ha, ha,
I'm sworne to cheat my father, and 'tis fit
He that first made the Gin should hansell it.
Exit.
Enter Smalfaith, Folly, and Jocky.
Smal.
—Sir, you are kindly welcome, and the oftner
You visit me, the welcommer you shall be;
I honor men of knowledge. Master Folly,
I am oblig'd to you for his acquaintance.
Fol.
—Geod feith sir, an he's worth yours; I sall play him wy
any Anglish Dooctor in the Warld.
Ioc.
Ne sir, Ise can dee mere than Ise speeke sir.
Smal.
—I beleeve you sir,
By what I find of truth within my selfe;
I must confess, I am not altogether
So right as I would, my body tels me
I may admit of Physick.
Ioc.
Mickle weele sir.
I'm troubled with the Spleene, a strong disease
Amongst us Magistrates, which makes me feare
'Tis not for cure.
Joc.
Ise cur it in twa minutes gif ye ha
Bien trobl'd wy it twanty years, an aw
Your tribe gif tha'll cam toll me.
Fol.
Ne, ne, he's reight.
Sal.
You'l do a wondrous cure then.
Joc.
I sall dee't o me honor; bet that's noot aw
Your Malade, ye are noot soound at heart sirs.
Smal.
I know not that sir.
Joc.
Planty an iddleness ha bred gross humours in you, whilke
mon be pourged awey, or elke ye dee for't; bet Ise sall ge ye that sir,
sall mack ye bare an leight enough.
Smal.
I thank you sir; accept this, pray, and I
[He gives him gold.
Shall further gratifie, but be speedy,
Good sir, with your Preparatives.
Joc.
Ise gang aboot it stret, Ise gang aboot it sir.
Smal.
Your servant Gentlemen, I shall heare from you sir.
Joc.
Soone, mickle soone sir;
Exit.
Leoke mon, leoke aw thay bien sick o gis sike fin things as thes, fiev
golden lads mon, fiev mere are woorth a Leards land sir; geod feith
gif their veynes wul ran sike droops as thes wees drain um dry—A
simple feuls, that ken noot whan th'are weele, bet wull bien wasting
thair means toll set thair boodies oout o frame—a feuls, feuls.
Fol.
Ne matter mon gif oought can be gut wy putting um oout o
fram, tha Deele try his skill to put um in agen for Jocky.
Exeunt.
Enter Billy, and a Crew of Country People.
Bil.
Kepe off sirs—kepe oft, ga me wund toll speeke toll ye; Ise
cam for aw your geods, mind ye me?
Omnes.
Very well, very well.
Bil.
Ise cur aw diseases, aw manner o Malades, an sall tack noought
o ye for me peyn bet your siller; Gif there bien er a Kirke Prest
emong ye choak'd up wy Pluraltes o Benefaits, tha Poowder in thes
pauper macks the Impostom breck, an tacks aw awey clere—Gif
any Prest bien vext wy tha Babylonish mang, thes Purgation med in
me non Contre, curs hum were he ner sa fer spent.
1 Coun.
For our Doctor sir, for our Doctor.
For our Vicar.
[He disperseth his papers.
3 Coun.
For our Parson.
4 Coun.
For our Curat.
5 Coun.
For our Bishop, Prebends, and Curates.
Bil.
Gif any emong ye bien troubl'd wy tha neyce o Organs in your
lugs, thes poowder curs you for ever.
1 Co.
For our Town sir.
2 Co.
For ours too sir.
[He disperseth &c.
3 Co.
And ours, and ours sir.
4 Co.
And our whole County sir.
Bil.
Gif eny emong ye bien blind wy tha seight o Lawn sleeves,
thes cures and restores ye.
1 Co.
For my Landlord sir.
2 Co.
For mine too sir.
[He disperseth.
3 Co.
And mine.
4 Co.
And mine.
5 Co.
And mine.
Bil.
Gif eny emong ye ha tha beon o a tith'd Soows babey stick in
your wund pip, thes saw cur you stret, and tack aw awey.
1 Co.
For me sir.
2 Co.
For me too sir.
[He disperseth.
3 Co.
And me sir.
4 Co.
And me sir.
5 Co.
And me sir pray.
Bil.
Gif eny emong ye bien troubl'd wy heart burnings, tha Poowder
in thes pauper curs ye stret.
1 Co.
For my Neighbour sir.
2 Co.
And mine sir.
3 Co.
And mine too sir, I pray.
4 Co.
And som for our whole Town good sir.
Bil.
Gif eny o ye bien sore wy ore mickle burdens, an weary o your
Riders, thes Poowder macks ye strong ta orethraw um, or ta bar
greater.
Omnes.
For us all sir.
Bil.
Gif eny o your stomacks bien opprest wy Law, thes pell sall
remoove tha cause, an tack it awey. Gif eny bien hard boound, thes
sall mack mickle free.
1 Co.
For my Landlord sir.
For mine too sir
3 Co.
And mine sir.
4 Co.
And mine sir.
5 Co.
And mine sir.
Bil.
Gif eny emong ye bien trobl'd wy a scurvy mooth, thes tacks
aw felth awey.
1 Co.
For my wife sir.
2 Co.
For mine sir.
3 Co.
And mine sir.
4 Co.
And mine sir.
5 Co.
And my Mistresse sir.
Bil.
Gif eny bien trobl'd wy a loosnes, thes ties 'um fest as a Rope
or hawter.
1 Co.
For my wife sir.
2 Co.
And mine sir.
3 Co.
And mine sir.
Bil.
Geod Peple, noow I ha gauye aw remedies ta your Malades,
twa dees hence Ise sall bien her or noot ta sey whot operation thay
ha had upon ye; Ise sur ye sall ha remedy or non; an sa far ye
wall.
Omnes.
Farewell sir, farewell.
Exeunt.
Enter Trapheir, and Witwud.
Wit.
A pretty place this.
Tra.
But the Company!
The Company dear Coz hither resorts
Gives life and sweetnes to't; the rarest wits!
So rare! a man may lose himselfe ere he
Discover 'em—for they are not to be—
[aside.
Discovered—Besides, the Women, Ladies,
Of such excelling beauty, you would sweare
They painted—and not be forsworne, as merry
As Cupid when he wantons.
Wit.
And you spent
Your meanes amongst 'um?
Tra.
And spent rarely well!
I've no remorce for't. Can you sing?
Not I Coz.
Tra.
How Coz? not sing! why then you are no Company;
We have a merry life so long as't lasts.
Ile lay my life you fence not neither.
Wit.
Yes,
My grounds I do.
Tra.
Have you the grounds of fencing? that is, to
Make the Passado, to retreive, comply,
Defend, make up, close, and Disarme;
You know not this I warrant?
Wit.
Not I truly.
Tra.
I cannot think what will become of you,
When you meet Men of valour.
Witw.
I pray keep me
Out of their company, I love no quarrels;
I came to study th'Law.
Tra.
At a fine time.
Y'ave bought no Books I hope.
VVit.
I, but I have.
Tra.
Returne them to the Bookseller for shame;
A Sword will prove more usefull: hark ye Coz,
I am resolv'd to have you learn to fence.
VVit.
I'd rather learn to sing.
Tra.
That ye shall too:
Enter Townshift.
Your money will do all things—yonder's Townshift,
How like a Rogue he looks? I will not shun him.
[aside.
And Cozen, as I was telling you
[Townshift puts him by the sleeve.
Town.
With your leave sir.
Tra.
'Twas well askt sir,
What's your will with me?
Town.
My Cloak sir—wher's my Cloak sir?
Tra.
Even at the Brokers sir—
Town.
How—you are a Rogue.
Tra.
That's nothing sir—your railing will not fetch it out agen.
Townshift I love thee, thou knowst I doe.
Town.
A pox upon you.
Tra.
Thou knowst the oath, I'm not to spare my Father.
And though we quarrell, yet we must not fight.
The conscience, I am ready.
[offers to draw.
Town.
Is he sunk for ever.
Tra.
No, it may rise again, if you be civil.
Town.
Is that your friend?
Tra.
And Kinsman.
Town.
Wilt thou cheat him too?
Tra.
My Oath is past, I will not be forsworn
For a Kings ransom.
Town.
Nay then, I'm satisfied.
Tra.
Come, be known to him—Coz, this is my friend.
Town.
Sir, I kisse your hand.
VVit.
I thank you heartily sir.
Tra.
Fie Coz, fie, there's a complement.
VVit.
He does not look as though he needed ought,
Save what thou wantst, a Cloak.
Tra.
Good wit Coz, good wit.
Town.
Oh Rogue, how he claws him.
Tra.
Where shall's dine?
VVit.
I'le to the Ordinary.
Tra.
Where?
VVit.
In Fetter-lane.
Tra.
To feed on Bruis, and be serv'd with Linnen
As sable as the chimney. No, weel take
A Coach, and hence to Fish-street.
VVit.
What shall we do there?
Tra.
Eat fish, the World does not afford the like.
VVit.
But th'Coach is costly,
Tra.
Pough, I'l be at that;
'Tis said the Milk of Asses, makes men fat.
Exeunt.
| The Scots Figgaries : Or, A Knot of Knaves | |