 | The Scots Figgaries : Or, A Knot of Knaves |  |
ACT. III.
Enter Jocky, and Mistris Smalfaith.Jock.
Fy Mastres fy, geod feith y'ar mickle oout; I ga hum noought
bet convenable stooff.
Mrs Small.
Y'are a Rascall, a Scotch Horseleech, a Doctor, a Dolt-head:
Oh the madness of the men of these times; if any of them be
but a little out of temper, none can set them right but a Scotch
Doctor forsooth, as though all the English ones were fooles. But
Sirrah, Sirrah, it is well known my husband
[she runnes at him.
was'never distempered, till he came acquainted with such a De-coy
as you—Curse on the time—
[Weeps.
Joc.
Geod Mistras hark ye toll me.
Mrs Small.
Hang you Rascall, my Husband was never troubled
with whimsies in his head, nor never rail'd against his Superiours;
he was ever a quiet man, and an honest man, and had the love of the
whole Court, and so had I too. Many a good turn have the good Gentlemen
done me, which I must never expect now agen, so violently
my Husband railes against the Government. But if he suffer for't,
thou shalt not weare a Nose to thy face; a Nose on thy face said I:
Nay if there bee a sign-post in all this Town I'l hang thee on't—
Ah poor heart.
Here hee comes—See what a pickle you have put him in; My
fingers itch to come at thy face, that ugly
[she runs at him.
face of thine.
Joc.
A me saw shee's a Deele, and wull spell aw my Market gif
I ser her noot lick him; thes gis o tha sem powder, whilke gif sha
smell ta, wull mack her sa lick him as may be.
Mrs Small.
Sweet heart.
Mr Small.
Oh, art thou there? tis well; there has bin nere
A Pursevant here yet to fetch me, has there?
Mrs Small.
A Pursevant for you! for what cause Husband?
Mr Small.
I am too honest, that is cause enough.
And at it is contriv'd mens ruines—hah.
[starts.
Who's that? who's that? ist not for me they ask?
I shall be lost quite, if I look not well
About me.
Mrs Sma.
True, y'are in the way to undo
Your selfe, and me, and all your Family.
But this is thy Gin Rascall; Oh I could tear thee.
[runs at him.
Joc.
Mistras ga me whil toll speeke toll ye; thes wudnes o his,
cam fro tha corruption o his hart: Aw that Iga hum was sike as
thes, be me saw smeel Laddy, smeel Laddy.
Mrs Small.
I have not Patience.
Joc.
Ne, ne, be noot wud, smeel toll it.
[she smells,
Mrs Small.
My thinks tis very comfortable.
[she starts.
Joc.
Hoow doll ye geod sir?
Mr Small.
Oh Mr Doctor is't thee! art safe?
'Tis wonderfull there's nothing charg'd against thee!
There is an Office call'd the Green-cloth too,
Has no man had thee there yet?
[she starts agen.
Joc.
They ken me sa weel sir—It warks brawly.
Mrs Small.
Hark you Husband, what is that you said but now?
I beleev't, what was't? the King is pestilent, wilfull; hah; I was't so?
why then, for ought I know, hee must bee beaten into better manners.
Joc.
Reight weel sed geod feith.
Mrs Small.
Honest Mr Doctor, pray come in sir;
You are the welcom'st man come to my house
This fortnight—Husband love him, has he not
A taking countenance?
Mr Small.
No body at the Gate?
[starts.
I am possest with feares and jealousies.
Mrs Small.
And well you may be Husband, I am sure
You have had cause enough, good Man, I grieve,
I grieve to think on't.
Mr Small.
Mr Doctor, be advis'd;
Pray go not unprepar'd; to Night you shall
Take my house for your shelter, things work strangely.
Mrs Small.
Sweet Mr Doctor you shall be so welcome,
In every thing I warrant, pray come in sir.
Joc.
Geod feith, tha cass is awter'd.
Exeunt.
Enter a Crue of Countrey People.
1 Coun.
Bring forth your Prongs Neighbours; All men stand up
for the truth: And he that will lie on the Sunday, is not to be trusted
the week after, what say you Neighbours?
2
I say a Sundaies lie may go as far as a work-daies, my reason is,
it has more leasure to travell.
3
For my part neighbours let them lie that will I have no more to
doe with a lie, then a lie has to do with me; if any lies with my wife,
it shall go hard but ile do as much with his.
1
I, if he have one Neighbour.
3
Why, if he have none Neighbour, I must go without; no man
will be a slave I think.
2
A slave! who has such a mind let him have it still: For my part
Neighbours, Ile worke hard, earn my bread with the sweat of my
browes, none shall eat away the fruit of my labour, but I will sit
down when it is done, and laugh, in despight of all the Kasars in the
World.
4
Hold a pluck there Neighbour, 'tis ill playing with edge-tooles;
that word despight comes not in handsomely, and may bring us all
to the Pot.
3
What! have wee a scab'd sheep amongst us? lets cleere our
flock of him.
4
Hold Neighbour, hold, I am for you with all my heart, but
give me leave to speak to you; I am but a fool 'tis confest, but children
and fooles tell truth sometimes, you know.
Omnes.
And what of that, and what of that.
4
I say again, 'tis dangerous medling with edge-tooles; there's
store of trees here abouts, and there may bee Gibbets made of them,
and you know well enough what fruit Gibbets bring forth; I say no
more, but be carefull what you do.
Omnes.
Away with him, away with him.
4
One word more Neighbours, one word more; it is not well
to mocke our Superiours, much worse to threaten them: for as I
have heard, there was a suit at Law commenced about a Part.
Ha, ha, ha, how man, how!
4
Why, I will tell you Neighbours, be but patient; there was a
fellow, Ile not tell his name, was pissing against the wall, the
Mayor came by, now you know the Proverb, tell a tale to a Mare,
and 'twill let a fart; but here the case alters, for the fellow let the
fart, and the Mayor took it in the nose, and caused the fellow to bee
carried to the Town Hall, as Prisoner.
3
The Mayor was a Horse, or a Whorson knave, what's this to
us?
4
Now toth' suit.
2
'Tis worn out, weel have none on't.
4
Neighbours lay down your Prongs, take my devise;
'Tis an old Proverb, be merry and wise.
Omnes.
Away with him, away with him, we will break the Cords
of our slavery.
Exeunt.
Enter Jocky, and Folly, and Anything.
Fol.
Thes gis tha Doctor, I toll'd ye o sir, mickle wise an holy,
My non Contrymon ta sir.
Any.
Sir the Character
The Town receives of you, makes me ambitious
Of your Acquaintance.
Jock.
I complamen noot sir, Ise doown reight Scot;
Aw verety an honesty.
Any.
The better sir.
That language is the freest from deceit,
That carries most simplicity.
Joc.
Ne, ne, Ise noot sa sample neder.
Any.
Pardon me;
I speak not in that sense, but have regard
Unto the Metaphor; I don't conclude,
'Cause th'Organ of the soule may be infected,
The soul must be imperfect; for I've known
Men rarely endu'd, that Nature has deny'd
The benefit of expression to.
Joc.
Y'ar a Scollard sir.
Any.
And I presume you one. I have read something
Of th'Metaphysicks, though I took not on me
The function, or the practice: But, no more
Unskil'd, to hold a weapon against a Fencer.
Ioc.
Mickle weel sed geod feith.
Any.
All my Discourse
Drawes to this Period; that is, you'd be pleased
T'afford me your opinion; some thing I aile,
But know not what, save this, a deprivation
Of breath, and find it prejudiciall to
My Calling.
Joc.
You ha bad lungs sir, whilk macks ye short wound.
Any.
I could have told you that sir; My defect
Proceeds from thence; but for the Remedy—
I know my failings.
Joc.
You'l faw sir intoll a Consumption very soon sir, gif ye tack
noought ta kepe ye fro it; Aw the dreggs o Rome mon be tane fro ye.
Folly.
Gead feith, gif he tack yee in hand sir, y'ar aw hole.
Joc.
Y'ar ta fat at hart sir, Pluraletes bred bet iddlenes, an iddlenes,
bad humors; yee mon kepe a spar diet sir, an be brought lo wi
Purgations sir, an whan tim sers ha sim Comfortives sir.
Any.
Sir, I shall trust my body to your Care.
Joc.
Bet Ise net trust me saw to yours.
[aside
Enter a servant.
Ser.
Sir, Mr Soongul'd desires you would come with the Doctor
to him presently.
Fol.
I sal swett hart, my Jo; Doctor, you mon ta Mr Soongul'd
wi me.
Any.
You are sent for sir, I see.
Ioc.
Bet I sal ha ye in mind sir.
Any.
As soon as may bee—farewell sir.
Exit.
Joc.
Fer noot sir, fer noot.
Exeunt.
Enter Trapheire, Witwud, and Townshift, Drawer with wine.
Draw.
This is the best Room Gentlemen.
Witw.
It stinks of Tobacco, don't it Coz?
Town.
How Tobacco!
Tobacco is Companion for a Prince.
Wit.
I take none though.
Then you want education; fill Boy, fill.
Exit.
Townshift to thee.
Town.
Let it come.
[Enter with Pipes and Tobacco.
Draw.
Sir, ther's some Gentlemen in the next Room desires
your Company.
Town.
What are they?
Draw.
I think their names be Drawforth and Pinckcarcase.
Tra.
Plain Drawforth and Pinckcarcase; well admit e'm.
Shall it be so Coz?
Wit.
I hope there'l be no quarrelling.
Tra.
What if there be?
Have you not here your men of Iron by you.
[Enter Drawforth, Pinckcarcase, and wantwit.
Can you be better back'd and brested sir;
Townshift, the Rogues have got a Bubble.
Town.
The more the merrier—your servant,
Gentlemen.
Drawf.
This is our friend, and desires your Acquaintance.
Pinck.
Gentlemen, a man of worth, Ile assure you.
VVit.
What Countrey man I pray sir?
Want.
An Essex man sir, your servant.
Drawf,
The better flesh Ile warrant.
VVant.
I know not that sir, I have neer bintri'd.
VVit.
Not neer shall be for me.
Pinck.
Drink, drink about.
Town.
To thee Drawforth.
Drawf.
A health to thy friends Mistris.
Tra.
Well done, about with't.
VVit.
I thank you Gentlemen.
Trap.
What! not begin another?
VVit.
I've drank too hard allready; this same glass and no more:
Gentlemen, your Ladies health sir.
Pinck.
Why Traphiere, whence this gallantry?
Tra.
What an idle question
Is that of thee; why, who should do't, but this?
He sent his Taylor to take measure of
The buildings of our bodies.
Town.
And th'appurtenances
Came to us by like Providence.
Drink, drink about.
Tra.
Coz, let me give thee o're our Wine some Counsell;
You are a landed Man, be carefull what
Strange Company you keep; for there are Cheats,
And desperate Cheates abroad, will make no Conscience
To bring you into Bonds, and make you sell
Or morgage all you have; take heed good Coz,
What Company you keep.
VVit.
He that cheats me, shall have good luck Coz.
Pinc.
When does your Taylor fit your body with
A fashionable sute; this beares an Antique
And worn-out date. A gentleman of your Fortunes
And walk so like a Cow-driver.
VVant.
I will have one 'gainst Sunday.
Pinc.
Some six yards makes me one too, let it be so; hah!
Drawf.
The like proportion fits me, twelve, us both.
VVant.
Well it shall be done Gentlte-men—
[begins to be drunk.
Town.
Drink, drink about, your friend is gone.
Drawf.
Ile send yours after him.
VVit.
I-must-be-gone, 'tis-late.
Tra.
No sure. What, by thy Watch?
VVit.
The hand is upp-on-on-twel-ve.
[he's drunk.
Trap.
A pretty Watch, I prethee lend it me,
To have another made by.
VVit.
Tis-a-Watch-of Price-Coz.
Tra.
I would not borrow it else.
Pinc.
What store of Chink have you?
VVant.
Money-enough, mony-enough.
Pinck.
Lend me a peece or two.
VVant.
There-there Boy.
Drawf.
The like to me sir, come, I shall, I shall.
VVant.
There-sir. Ile-be gon—
Pinck.
The house, the house, to pay.
Enter Drawer.
Draw.
Twenty two shillings and y'are welcome Gentlemen.
Drawf.
make it up five and twenty, and you two shall cast Dice
which payes it—are all parties agreed—I know
[Exit.
our noble friend will not be backward.
Nor ours; Heroick spirit wilt thou?
Enter Drawer with WVine.
Draw.
Her's more wine Gentlemen.
Town.
About with it, about with it.
[Exit Drawer.
Drawf.
The Dice, the Dice.
[They throw.
Tra.
Come tis a good throw Coz.
Drawf.
But that's better sir; your friend paies.
VVit.
Hang him he cheated, he's a cheat.
VVant.
Nere go not I, Gentlemen.
VVit.
You lie, you lie.
Pinc.
How the lie? will you take that?
VVant.
How shall I help it pray?
Tra.
Well done Coz.
VVit.
—Hang him he's-but a Country puppy Calfe.
Pinck.
Throw a Pot at's head.
VVant.
I shall-not-hit-him. If-I-doe; I am-no-more
Puppy-then your self—
[throws a pot.
Drawf.
Why, that was well done.
VVit.
Ile-kick you sirrah—I learn'd-that of-you Coz—
Pinck.
Gallants expect to hear from us, and suddenly.
Drawf.
A Coach there.
VVit.
I hope, they—wait—not for us—hah!
Tra.
What if they do? we fear em not, pay, pay;
Boy there's your reckoning. Call a Coach Boy.
Exeunt.
Enter Scarefoole.
Scaref.
Ha ye wark for a Scot Sawger, wha ha bien aw tha
Wirld ore ons ten toes; Ser'd aw Religions, an can tha better be o
eny. I ha kil'd tha Whar a Babilon, Body an Saw, brent aw her
Rawlecks wi tha feer o zeale. I can carry twa feces under won
hood: I can be a Sent, an I can be a Deel, gif ye ha wirk for me; I ha
seeme a powre a riches in me dees, but ha broought noought heom
wi me bet St Andras Cross, want an Poverty.
Enter Billy, Jocky.
Bill.
A sir! the bonny siller came a pece, gif I tol'd um a tale,
Joc.
An whot pell wos thot mon?
Bil.
The Pell o sedition.
Joc.
A, ken you thot mon? tha sam set tha Magistrat an's wife
intoll feares an jealousies, turn'd tha insid o tha Kirkmon ooutwards,
an noow's aw gall, tha Ceteson gis as bitter; tha Leyer cannot stond
he's brought sa weeke wy me Purgations, and tha Curtier noot worth
tha grond a goes on; I ha let aw his geod as weele as he's bad bleod
oout.
Scar.
Saw ye Gentlemen gif ye ha a mind ta bien saw'd, ken ye
me sirs?
Joc.
How sud we ken thee mon?
Scar.
Wha, noot Scarefool your Contremon?
Bil.
Whar hast bien mon?
Scar.
Aw tha Wirld ore sirs, an noow aw pleces are wary o me;
Ise cam ta Anglond toll seeke wirke.
Joc.
Here's wirke enoough gif ye bien wife ta deele wy tha Anglish
mon.
Scar.
Geod feith Ise chet'um thay wern ner sa cheted, show me
toll 'um, whar liew thay?
Joc.
In th'Cety, and Contre ta; marry, bet cam awey wy us mon,
wees tack a drinck first, an tawke mere on't.
Bil.
Cam awey Jo, cam awey.
Exeunt.
| The Scots Figgaries : Or, A Knot of Knaves | |