 | The Blind-Beggar of Bednal-Green |  |
ACT III.
Enter Momford, with Sir Rob. and Bess.Sir Rob.
Good Father! gentle Maiden set me down,
My wound I fear will freshly bleed again,
I prethee let thy Daughter make a bed,
I fear my Death-bed, good now send her in.
Momf.
Daughter I pray go in and make the bed,
If we need help I'le call you, pray you begone.
Bess.
It doth torment him to behold my sight,
Well Heaven forgive him and restore his health,
He did me more than wrong, and if I see
He be at point of death, I'le let him know,
That I am Momford's Childe he wronged so.
Exit Bess.
Sir Rob.
Father lend me thy hand now in Heaven's eye
Swear to be secret till thou see me dead,
Or of this wound by the recovered;
Know first I am a Knight, my Name is Westford,
My Wife was Sister to the Baron Momford,
Ready for a Hangman's will.
That Momford left his Daughter to my trust,
Which Daughter I have this day turned forth
To seek her living, and from her have kept
Above ten thousand Marks, besides the Lands
Morgag'd unto one Strowd a Norfolk Yeoman,
That Strowd on my abuse done to the Lady
Challeng'd the field, we fought, and here I fell,
He scap't I hope, Heaven grant he may do well.
Momf.
'Tis well Sir that you are so penitent.
Sir Rob.
Oh Father I had need to rend my heart
In sunder, with true sorrows hourly sighes,
For I have done a deed more impious
Than ever entred in the heart of man,
If ever thou didst hear of Momfords name,
His honor, bounty, and magnificence,
If ever thou didst hear his late defame,
Then know that I am he, Momford lov'd well,
Yet I am he by whom old Momford fell.
Momf.
Alas Sir! how?
Sir Rob.
I coveted his Land,
And practis'd with Sir Walter Playnsey's Son,
An irreligious careless Gentleman;
Yet one that will make show, swear and protest,
His course of life is equal with the best.
O there are many such old man there be,
Too many in this Land like him and me;
We laid this plot, he should go into France,
He did, and serv'd on horse at Amiens,
Where he was wilfully ta'n Prisoner,
And by his Keepers Daughter understood,
The French should by a trecherous plot win Guynes,
Wherein Lord Momford held a Garrison.
Momf.
Who were consenting with the French in this?
Sir Rob.
A Wallown-Captain called Haute Bewmart.
Momf.
Did Momford know of it?
Sir Rob.
No (old man) never—
But Playnsey counterfeited certain Letters.
Subscribing them with Lord Villiers his name,
In gratulation for betraying Guynes,
These Letters were delivered to a Post,
The Post surpriz'd, examin'd where he had them,
He answered from Villiers his Secretary:
For in his habit Playnsey was disguis'd.
Momf.
Oh Heaven!
Sir Rob.
Good father wherefore dost thou sigh?
Momf.
For grief mens hearts should harbour such deceits.
Sir Rob.
I faint good father, if thou can relieve me,
Call for thy Daughter, stretch me on a bed:
Bear witness I repent now, help and ease me,
And till I dye conceal my treachery.
Momf.
Be sure I will, and yet I hope you'll live,
And reconcile the banish't Lord your self,
For 'twas an unjust fact, indeed it was,
Come Daughter help to lead in this Gentleman,
Wee'll show him all the favour that we can.
Enter Bess.
Father he sownes.
Momf.
Come quickly help him in,
I hope he will recover, but if not,
Heaven grant his sins may wholly be forgot.
Exeunt
Enter Canbee disguised.
Can.
This damb'd perpetual Rogue Swash, has kept me here in
little ease of the bare ground, hungry, cold, and comfortless, ever
since two hours afore day. I am hungry for the hundred pound he
brings, cold at my heart for fear he come without it, and comfortless
least if he have it, he comes with company, but lupus in fabula
here he comes, what and alone! excellent the 100 l. myne own
then.
Enter Swash.
Swash.
I discover none, the danger is past, I think I may with
safety put up an honest weapon, thou terror to all Theeves, sleep
there; my young Master promised to meet me, he stayes somewhat
long, but he knows Swash is able to stand under the strokes of a
dozen false slaves, oh that I could meet with a Theef now to try my
valour.
Can.
Stand sirrah and deliver.
Swash.
Oh Lord, Theeves, theeves, oh, oh.
Can.
Peace Villain, or I'le cut out thy Tongue, and make a rasher
of the coals on't, deliver the mony.
Swash.
Yes good Mr. Theef with all my heart, there 'tis I am glad
I had it for you.
Can.
So am I too Sir, come hold up I must now bind you hand and
foot for running after me.
Swash.
I pray you do bind me hard, do good Mr. Theef, harder
yet Sir.
Can.
So now farewell, your mony goes with me Sir.
Swash.
Farewell kind Mr. Theef. O pox choke him for a slave,
Theeves, theeves, theeves, help, help, help.
Enter Hadland and Snip with Strowd's sword.
Had.
Sirrah Snip be sure you run away with Strowd's sword
Snip.
I warrant you Sir let me alone for running.
Swash.
Theeves, theeves, help, help.
Snip.
How theeves, I'le go, and raise the town Sir, theeves, theeves.
Ex. Snip.
Enter Tom Strowd.
Y. Stro.
How Theeves,—where's Snip run with my sword? who's
that cries Theeves Swash, how now man come stand to it.
Swash.
Yes Sir, I am bound to it.
Why what's the matter Swash, how cam'st thou thus,
ha.
Swash.
I am rob'd Master.
Y. Stro.
How rob'd, I hope not so man!
Swash.
Yes faith there was six Theeves set upon me, I very manfully
kill'd seven of the six, and the rest carried away the mony, but
I shall have it again that's the best on't.
Y. Stro.
How dost thou know thou shalt ha't again Swash?
Swash.
Why he has left me his bond here to bring it again.
Y. Stro.
There's a bond with a Halters name,—Swash is all the
mony gone?
Swash.
Every peny Master.
Y. Stro.
What ill fortune is that Swash, what shall we do now
trow.
Enter Snip and Canby.
Snip.
Theeves, theeves, come good Mr. Canby make hast, this
way, this way.
Can.
Theeves, where Boy? I am almost out of breath with running,
what Mr. Strowd and Swash how comes this.
Y. Stro.
Why Swash is rob'd man!
Can.
How rob'd?
Y. Stro.
Yes faith, but I may thank Snip there that run away
with my sword.
Snip.
Alas Sir I was so amazed I knew not what I did,
Nor whither I ran, till I met Mr. Canbee here!
Can.
Rob'd, I wod I had been with thee Swash.
Swash.
I honest Mr. Canbee, and you had been with me I had
scaped well enough then.
Can.
Well, Mr. Strowd, as I was passing through Allgate this
morning I saw the Shreeves and Constables set towards to Newgate
to fetch your father, the Carpenter in a Cart carried the Jebbet
to Bednall-Green, only love to meet you made me neglect the
principal business, here's the Protectors Reprieve, I have done the
part of a Gentleman, here's Humphry Gloster good Noble man, he
loved your Father well, let not your delay dash all, I was two
hours by the clock of my bare Knees to the Protector, pray'd the
equity of the quarrel, and could Westfords body a been found, the
Pardon had been sealed: but haste away with the Repreeve, take
horse at Langton, and make speed, or your father will be hanged.
How take horse quoth ye, yes, the Cat would lick her ears
and she had 'em, why, I was rob'd too last night my self at Langton.
Can.
Were you rob'd Mr. Strowd?
Y. Stro.
Yes faith, they make a matter of nothing to rob Swash
and I now adayes, I have not a horse to cast at a dog man
not I.
Can.
Apox of all ill fortunes, hold Sir, there's five shillings left
take it, and go take my horse at the Bell at Stratford, and make
hast for fear you come too late.
Y. Stro.
Troth Mr. Canbee, and ye gave me all that ere ye had, I
can but thank you, and your horse were a horse of gold, he shall be
forth-comming again. Come Swash let us go.
Exit Tom Stro:
Swash.
Mr. Canbee no more but so for this kindness, farewell
Mr. Hadland, farewell Snip, pray let's see ye all at the Gallows, till
when I bequeath this halter amongst ye, in token of my love, and
so adue.
Snip.
Farewell Swash and be hang'd.
Had.
—Canbee, art thou mad to give him thy horse, and five
shillings to save his father from hanging.
Can.
No you Friday-fac't-frying pan it was to save us all from
whipping, or a worse shame; for let your Rogueship understand,
that this reprieve is counterfeit and made by me, your ordinary
pasport maker, that should have lost an ear at Salisbury, and another
at Northampton; the truth is we must leave London, for if the
Protector get us under his protection, we shall all go Westward for
this warrant.
Had.
—Let's turn Gypsies again then, and go about a fortune-telling,
'tis in good request again now.
Can.
That's the smooth foot path up Holborn, no Iack there's
an odde fellow snuffels i'the nose, that shows a motion about Bishops-gate,
we'le wheel about by Ratliff and get to his lodging, see shews
for a fortnight, till Strowd's nine daies wonder of hanging be past,
to let us use his motion, which done the boy shall turn girle, thou
as I have done already, wash off that Gypsie-colour, and be doorkeeper
with the boy, my self with a half vizzard will describe, and
thus we'le live like young Emperors.
Had.
Canbee I'le chronicle thee for this conceit. Snip thou shalt
have good purchase of the Wenches in the throng.
Snip.
And if I snip not off their Purses then call me crack.
Ex.
Glost.
Strowd I am sorry for this heavy fight,
And by the dread command of my liege Lord,
I come to witness 'twixt the world and you
What state you dye in, how yon will dispose
Your lands, your goods and debts now forfeited,
These he restores thee, yet whilst thou has life
To give unto your son, your friends, or wife.
Old Stro.
I humbly thank his royal Majesty,
VVishing long happiness to him and you:
But with your favour my good Lord Protector
I still deny I am a Murtherer,
I kill'd Sir Robert Westford in fair fight;
Our quarrel rising from open wrong,
He offer'd to his neece the Lady Momford.
Glost.
All that was certified his Majesty,
But prethee hear me Strowd, Death's fleshless hand
Clapsing the wretched palms of endless woe,
Hath made a circle, and thy soul's the Center,
From which by neither power, prayers, or tears,
If thou dye desperate she can be freed.
Old Stro.
My Lord I do beseech ye pardon me,
The worl'd believes that I have murder'd Westford,
Or since abus'd his body being dead,
And shaming at my savage guiltiness,
Have hurl'd it in some well not to be found;
Is this the matter that I should confess?
Glost.
It is good Strowd in that make clear thy Soul.
Old Stro.
He whose pure blood turns scarlet sins to snow.
Forgive me all my faults and Westford's death:
But if I ever wrong'd him being dead,
Or mov'd him from the place whereon he fell,
Not far off from this place where I must fall.
I ask Heavens anger on me, for his grace,
And I can say no more concerning that.
Glost.
Enough what sayes thou about Momford's lands.
Old Stro.
I say, seeing the King of his good grace
Hath given me all my lands, my debts, and goods,
Unto the Lady Elizabeth his Daughter,
And Captain Westford, in whom I put all trust,
Be carefull that the Lady be not wrong'd.
Cap. West.
I warrant you Mr. Strowd.
Glost.
How mean'st thou to dispose of all thine own?
Old Stro.
I have a will drawn at my house in Harling,
And I confirm that for my Testament.
Glost.
Are you pleas'd that will shall be perform'd,
Old Stro.
Heaven's will be done.
But I would fain have seen mine unkind Son.
Glost.
Tarry a little Executioner.
Enter Tom Strowd, and Swash.
Y. Stro.
Hold, hold, hold, let him alone you cross legg'd-hartichoak,
touch him and thou dare.
Swash.
Hold Hangman and thou be'st a man, hold for the Kings
advantage.
Glost.
What are these trow?
Y. Stro.
Two Sir that come not without their cards I hope; Father
you have a simple fellow to your Son you see, come who's the
shreeve here haw.
Old Playn.
I do supply his place.
Y. Stro.
Do ye so, then here's a Mittimus to repreeve my father
back again to the Gaol, or a repreeval what do you call it, it's my
Lord Cardinal's, and my Lord Protectors own hands, and seals; I assure
you Sir.
Glost.
Proud Winchesters and mine, that's strange, let's see it.
Swash.
It is not so strange as true Sir, there it is.
Glost.
Is this your Son Strowd?
Old Stro.
I my gracious Lord.
Y. Stro.
'Tis the more shame for my Mother else.
Glost.
Where had you this repreeve?
Y. Stro.
Of an honest Gentleman Sir, one that can do any reasonable
matter with my Lord Protector.
Swash.
I truly Sir he is one, as honest a Gentleman as Canbee.
Glost.
It may be so, for I know one Franck Canbee,
He serv'd sometimes Bewford the Cardinal,
The commonst cosening Knave in all this Land.
Swash.
I, I that's he Sir, that's he.
As God mend me 'tis the very same man, but all's one for
that, he has plaid the kind Gentleman with me, and as God save me,
and Swash had not been rob'd this morning of 100 pound, I had
paid him well for his pains too Sir.
Glost.
Strowd turn your self to Heaven these hopes are vain,
And young Strowd as you hope to have our favour
After your Father's death, I charge you seek
That Canbee forth that forg'd you this repreeve.
Y. Stro.
How after my father's death,—I hope it is not come
to that now? after all this charge.
Old Stro.
Sirrah you, ever chuse yon such sure Mates,
My Lord Protector pray be good to him.
Y. Stro.
Nay pray you my Lord be good to my father, and turn
him 'ore the Ladder.
Swash.
—is this my Lord Erector?
Y. Stro.
How's that my Lord Protector, and you be my Lord
Protector, I pray do but set your hand to this Bill, and as God save
me, and ere ye come into Norfolk, I'le do you twenty times as
good a turn as the hanging of my father comes to, pray you my
Lord.
Swash.
Do my good Lord Erector, and Swash and his Buckler
shall be at your service.
Old Stro.
Peace, peace, your idle prate, Heaven's peace
Must be my comfort in adversity.
Y. Stro.
Swash what shall become of me now, I nere dare go down
into Norfolk again, every clown will brave me, and bid me go to
London, and be hang'd as my father was.
Swash.
I, and they'll bid Swash swing in an Halter as his old
Master did.
Enter old Momford lead in by Bess Momford.
Momf.
Some good man bring me to an Officer.
It may be a blind wretch may save a subject.
Swash.
Master, here's a blind man come to see your father
hang'd.
Y. Stro.
How a blind man see him hang'd? that were strange indeed
Swash.
Old Playn.
What would that aged man, and that fair Maid?
Swash.
I hope she comes to beg my old Master from the Gallows.
Y. Stro.
No Swash She should have come in her Smock, and then
a—
It may be it is not clean Master.
Momf.
I heard the people murmur near my house,
A little Cottage yonder on the Green,
That there was come an antient man to die,
For killing of a Knight last afternoon,
If it be so, the Knight lives, and no doubt
Will be recovered of his dangerous wounds.
Glost.
Where is he father?
Momf.
Yonder in my Cottage.
Swash.
O brave, Master he sayes the Knight's in his God-piece.
Y. Stro.
No in his Cottage man, thou mistakest.
Momf.
He nam'd himself but now, and sent us forth,
To know the truth, and he comes after us,
As well as his green wounds will give him leave.
Y. Stro.
I marry Swash, here's a good old man, and a goodly
Mother, brings news for the nonce,—I wo'd not for all the Bullocks
in Norfolk, th'ad faln out, that my father had faln off.
Glost.
Let Strowd come down, I hope Sir Robert lives,
And if he do, believe me I'le reprove
This over rash proceedings for Strowd's death.
Old Playn.
May it please your grace, 'twas Sessions the last day,
Strowd granted he had kill'd him, Judgement past,
And my Sons wife the Daughter to Sir Robert,
Hasten'd (with tears) the execution.
Enter Sir Robert Westford.
Swash.
Yonder he comes Master, come you had like to made a
fine piece of work here, are you a Knight and can fight no better.
Sir Rob.
Health to my gracious Lord the Duke of Gloster.
Glost.
I am glad Sir Robert Westford of your health,
How do you feel your wounds?
Sir Rob.
May it please your grace, I hope they will do well,
This good old man, and this fair-comming Maid,
Next under Heaven preserv'd me from death.
Glost.
Be thankfull to them then, and hear ye young Strowd,
Consider this poor man, and that fair Maid.
Y. Stro.
Consider her,—I consider well enough, sirrah Swash
methinks it is the prettiest Mother that ere man's eyes look't on.
Glost.
Sir Walter Playnsey take Strowd to your house,
So upon Sureties let him be discharg'd,
But hear you young Strowd, see you find out Canbee,
Or at my hands never expect a favour.
Y. Stro.
Yes my Lord I'le find him or it shall go hard, vesdiness
Swash I am mightily smitten in love with yonder Mother, and I ha
not a swelling burning feavour, in every member wo'd I might nere
stir,—yonders Mr. Playnsey has all the talk with her, and yet hee's
no Batchelar.
Swash.
Cannot you go and take her away from him, I co'd do it
my self Master.
Y. Stro.
Ile go to 'em, I'le try,
Goddeen to your Sir.
Swash.
Pish you are no body Master, let me alone I have a device
to get him away, and then do you sease upon the Wench: follow
me Master.
Y. Stro.
Oh brave Swash e'faith.
Enter a Messenger.
Glost.
Now Sir your news?
Mess.
The haughty Cardinal
Taking advantage of your being from home,
Hath with a crue of his Confederates,
Beset St. Johnses, and with all his force
Assayls to wrong the Lady Ellenor,
And steal her forth the Castle.
Glost.
Is't possible, that this proud Priest dares offer violence
Unto my Troth-plight Ellenor?
Mess.
'Tis too true my Lord.
Glost.
Where is he now?
Mess.
Rid to the Court my Lord.
Glost.
And thither Gloster doth intend to fly,
As swift as quickest speed will give him leave.
Ex. Glost.
Old Stro.
Come Sir you'll seek those Cozeners,
No doubt those copes-mates had my 100 pound,
And do you hear, take your companion with you,
Go and seek them, or for your own part never see my face:
But as for you that trust to every slave,
Wasting my goods, nay jesting out my life,
By false repreeves, and such base practises,
Walk, pack, sink, swim, pine, perish, look not on me,
Y. Stro.
Heark hither Swash, and it had not been for a blemish to
the name of the Strowds, wo'd we had made an end of this brawling
at the Gallows, and then thou should'st a seen whether I wo'd
a kept such a coyl for a little pawltry loss or no, I warrant thee he
ha not the honesty, to cast thee a Noble towards the healing of thy
crack't Crown, yet every one sayes he gave that ill-fac't knave the
Hangman five, or six pound.
Swash.
I that was to buy him a better face Mr. But give him
good words, you know the old man is kind enough.
Y. Stro.
I as any Corssen creature, hee's won with a Apple, and
lost again with a nut, but come Swash we'll go seek out those Cony-catchers,
and ere I catch them,—I'le make them pay soundly all
for their roguery.
Exeunt young Strowd and Swash.
Old Playn.
Sir Robert will you shake hands with Mr. Strowd.
Sir Rob.
Well he may have my hand but not my heart,
Srowd thou didst wound me, yet thou didst it well,
No more, I'le think on't till my dying day,
I'le sit upon your skirts before, I will.
Capt. West.
Oh Uncle have patience.
Sir Rob.
You are an Agent for the Child of Momford,
I pray you Sir Walter Playnsey make good Bonds,
That Strowd abuse me not, look to't I pray.
Old Playn.
I warrant you Sir Robert I'le be sure
Of such security as you shall like.
Old Stro.
Come Captain Westford, you shall have the Deeds
Concerning Momford's lands past unto you.
Cap. West.
I had rather Sir you kept them in your hand.
Old Stro.
Well as you please, yet walk with us I pray,
You brought me to the Gallows, bring me back:
Father farewell, farewell good gentle maid,
I'le rest your Debtor till some other time;
But 'twas Sir Robert's kindness to reveal his name,
Else Hangman you had had this home-spun suit,
But Heaven be thank't I keep it for my Son,
I hope to driue him from his silken humour.
Cap. West.
Come good Mr. Strowd will you go?
Old Stro.
Gallows farewell, Strowd's heart is blithe and bold,
Having escap'd thy danger being thus old.
Sir Rob.
A plague of this blind slave, and that base drab,
Else hadst thou hang'd ere I had been discover'd,
And on my tongue a mischief, that reveal'd
Our purpose in the plot of Momfords fall,
But I ha't now, I am resolv'd, hear you Son Playnsey,
I pray you give that Maid a mark in gold,
And Father I must crave a word with thee.
Y. Playn.
Fair Maid besides his offer take this Gold,
Bess.
I pray you pardon me, for all the world
I would not do my soul that injury.
Y. Playn.
Divine immortal, all my Souls delight.
Bess.
Salute me not with such vain Epithite.
I am wretched, mortal, miserable, poor,
But howsoever base, I'le be no whore.
Y. Playn.
Wilt thou be then my wife, for she is dead.
Bess.
It's much unlike,
A Gentleman of your worth will vouchsafe,
A Beggars Daughter to your Bridal bed.
Y. Playn.
By Heaven I will if thou wilt grant me love.
I'le answer you another time kind Sir.
My father hath no Nurse, no Wife, no childe,
No servant but my self, and he is blind.
Y. Playn.
Heark in thine ear one word.
Sir Rob.
I, I, I, I do remember such a tale I told thee,
Come hither good son Playnsey thou shalt hear it.
Last night at my first dressing I was Lunatick,
Mad that I was hurt, more than of the hurt,
And in my ravening fit told this old fool,
That thou and I did practise Momford's fall,
Now this old Asse believing I said true,
Comes with my Conscience, bids me advise,
And goes about to make a matter on't,
Ha, ha, old fool go, go, go to thy prayers,
Thou hadst need of eyes to keep thy Daughter honest.
I guess thy cottage be a brothell house,
Talk'st thou of Momfords fall and of my madness
Momf.
I do beseech ye hear me for Heaven's sake.
Sir Rob.
Tut, tut, do not tell me of Heaven, or Hell,
Prate not, I'le send the now and then a peny,
I'le clap thee by the heels, and whip thy Daughter,
Turn thee to the wide world, and let thee starve.
Come come son Plainsey let the Knave alone,
Keep's tongue, and keep his friend, else he gets none.
Bess.
My Father Sir had pity of your wounds.
Sir Rob.
Peace Huswife. I have paid him for his pains.
Come son away, and old man hold your tongue,
Remember this old saw, As men are friended,
Ex. Sir Rob. and Y. Playn.
So either right or wrong their sutes are ended.
Momf.
Oh miserable age!
Bess.
Oh wretched youth!
Momf.
Oh times corrupt by men for want of truth!
Bess.
What ailes my father?
Momf.
Why exclaims my Daughter?
Bess.
Playnsey the perjur'd, he that did deride me,
He that did marry Westford's only Daughter,
Courts me again to be his Concubine.
Momf.
Does he then know thee?
Bess.
He makes show he doth not.
Momf.
Oh do not trust him Girl, Westford and he
Are all compos'd of guile and subtilty.
Alas that this fair world, by sin deform'd,
Should bear upon her bosome such a shape
As Westford is; last night expecting death,
Terror dwelt on his heart, which forc'd him tell
With tears and lamentations his foul facts,
No sooner had he any hope of health,
But he conspir'd the faultless death of Strowd,
And would not have come forth, had not we been,
But till the man had dy'd kept close within.
Now he denies a deed as clear as day,
Threatens poor want, and low-trod poverty
Must not resist men in authority;
Come lead me in, I would my daies were done,
Since vice layes baits which vertue cannot shun.
Exeunt.
| The Blind-Beggar of Bednal-Green | |