 | Psyche Debauch'd |  |
ACT IIII.
Scene I.
Enter two men—Neighbours.1.
Neighbour. Don't you see a great noise somewhere?
just like an Eccho coming from a Playn, where are no Woods,
Hills, or Valleys to make it.
2.
Ay, ay, 'tis, because the Princes have kill'd the Bear,
and every mothers Child is gone out to meet them.
1.
The Princess are fine Blades, i'faith 'specially Prince
Phillip for Quoyts, or Cudgels, turn him loose.—Well now,
Maids may live and marry, when they can get Husbands.
2.
Ay, and we may hope to hear of a Maid in the ten's
again, before they were affraid of being given to the Bear,
that Maiden-heads were as cheap as stinking Fish.
1.
I have heard much of these Maiden-heads, prythee
what are they like?
2.
Like.—why they are so like nothing, that there is nothing
like them.—
1.
If the Bear was kill'd but half an hour ago, as it seems
by the story, how could the triumphal Arch be built, and
all this Pomp and Luxury be prepared to entertain the
Prince.—
2.
The way was chalk'd out by some Poet; or perhaps it
was done by Nature, aud the Gods.
1.
Nature and the Gods, they had other Fish to fry, they
have been together by the ears all this day about Princess
None-so-fair; But heark, the Eccho draws near from the
Playn! Let's take our places, least we lose the Show.
Exeunt.
Song.
A Battel so dreadful, 'tween Princess and Bear,
Oh Christian Pee-pel!
This Beast was so hungry, and also right fell,
he eat youth, and baggage,
like Salt, Beef, and Cabbage,
'twas dolefull to look on, and ruefull to tell.
And here is his head,
By which you may see, all is sooth that I said,
Therefore rejoyce, sing, and dance all, and some
With a lum, trum, tum, trum, tum, &c.
When bloody minded Rose, Phillip, and Nick,
Quoth Nicolas, I think,
The Fight will be doubtful, then first let us drink.
Prince Phillip by and by,
Did fill out the Brandy.
And Courage did swell up, as Bottle did shrink.
These Princes went boldly to find out the Dragon-Bear I do mean.
And catch'd him devouring of two pretty men,
They stole both behind him,
And e'r he could mind them,
They cut him, and slash'd him agen and agen.
Song.
shall drink, and eat still of the best,
For him you slew with Swords sharp dint,
Car'd not one Fig for Jack o'lent.
But star'd, as if he would cry forth,
When Boy with Clapper cry'd shooh shoh.
Give place to any, but Quixot.
1.
While we their Praises are hum drumming,
See where Mother Wossat's coming.
Mother Woossat flies over the Stage, and calls Justice Crab, who comes out in his Charriot.
Woossat
knocks.
Is Justice Crab within?
Crab.
What wouldst thou mortal?
Song.
Woss.
Justice! Oh gentle Justice Crab!
Crab.
Why makes my Croan this doleful moan?
Who dares affront my beauteous drab?
My sister Redstreaks dead,
Crab.
Is sister Redstreak dead?
Wooss.
—Ay! ay!
Crab.
What mortal did the direful deed?
Wooss.
Proud Springal Princess made her bleed.
And said
They cut off Bruines head,
Oh! If thou yet canst prise?
The Amber dropping from my eyes.
If all the Pensions I have paid?
And jobs that thou hast Gratis had,
Have any dent in Noddle made:
Let None-so-fair thy Fingers feel,
And all that did my Redstreak kill.
Crab.
—From thy dear Chops,
Such Kindness drops.
Still so much influence from thee rains,
Thou shalt command my heart and brains,
I'le pay those saucy Princes for their pains,
I'le give them a Posset,
Dare make their tricks thus at,
My poor Mother Woossat.
Little Constable,
Come with Painted bauble,
And send off the Rabble.
Sumptuous their Throne is, but I'le make a Carr on't,
Crabs word alone is more powerful then Warrant.
Chorus.
Let the stripplings and losses be lustily curried,
Ay, and let their good Graces,
To limbo, to limbo, to limbo, be hurri'd.
Woossat and Crab fly out, a little Spirit rises, and beats off the Princes and Attendants.
Exeunt all.
Scene II.
Enter Nicklas and Phillip.Nick.
What bloody Rogues were these?
And we not run each Mothers Son
Had gone to Little ease.
Phil.
A curse on thick Whoreson with the Painted Rod,
Sure 'twas some Divel, or some God.
Nick.
Prince Phillip, there was never Knight errant famous
without being enchanted; nor Opera notorious without
Gods, and Divels: hast thou observ'd the numerous
Caves and Walks, in your dry White Cheese.—
Phil.
Ay your tickle crack Cheese.
Nick.
In one of those Cheeses was a Knight of Wales
Enchanted Seven years; and through those dangerous wayes
he Travel'd, and destroy'd all the Heathen Knights, that like
little Vermine devour'd the fat of it.—
Phil.
Ah! mischief on the Heathen Knights, and the
Welch Knight too, they tickled the Cheese so between e'm,
that no goodness has been in't ever since.—
Till Nymph distressed, is freed from Tenters.
Enter Woudhamore and Sweetlips.
Woud.
Now luck! Husbands, or somthing to eat, we beseech
thee.
Sweet.
If they won't have us, let's ravish them.—Save
your Princes, still whining after your Pin-box, are there no
more Maids but Maukin?
Some brinded Wolf, Phils Father was, I wot,
On some she Rock, relentess thee he got.
Woud.
My Nickies dam was some rough Bear,
And Tigre fierce was sure his sire,
Oh pity thy despairing Trull.
Sweet.
O let me buss my Phils fair Gull.
Woud.
Cloud not those Lanthorns clipped eyes,
If Nickie frowns poor Woudha. dyes;
such pretty Bees sure should have no sting.
Sweet.
Thou little Princox be more mild,
Oh how it joyed me when it smil'd.
Nick.
Indeed sweet Ladies, you but loose your labour.
Phil.
You may as soon catch a Hare with a Tabar.
Woud.
Is it so? Lippy we are out.—Gad, we must be
more brisk; these Fellows are for the down-right way.—
Sweet.
Courage then, la, la, la, come thou little pouting
Villain, I will order thee for thy dissembl'd cruelty.—
Phil.
Bless us, what's the matter with the Woman; let me
alone.
Sweet.
Dam your pettish frowns. come here's a Guinny.—
Woud.
Since Nonsies devour'd by the Bear, 'tis no inconstancy
to chuse again.—
Nick.
That whim won't pass Madam! we search'd every
cranny of the Beast, and found no sign of her.
Sweet.
If she lives, you have been constant to her too long,
for by the new modish Articles of faithful Love, 'tis no sin,
nor inconstancy, to quit one Mrs. or Gallant, for another; as
often as you will, so you have but one at once. Come, come,
a George will gain the Lad, as well as the Lady—here take
Money.
Nick.
Y'are an insolent audacious hectoring Pugg, and
I'le have you kick'd if you do not leave us presently.—
Sweet.
Come poor Green-sickness Rascals, they do not
know what's good for themselves, let's away with them.
Phill.
Help, help, a Ravishment.—Y'are a brace of
saucy foul Mouth'd, Rampant, Tatterdemalion Princesses,
and.—
Nick.
And so we take our leave,
Phil.
Ay, and so we take our leave.
Exeunt Princes.
Never were Poor Princesses so distressed for Husbands.
Sweet.
Princess. No, there's no Princely Virtue in their
Blood.
Woud.
Dam'em a Prince would no more refuse a handsom
Woman, then a Lyon would hurt a Prince.
Frozen Joy, Slaves let them be hang'd.
Woud.
Hang'd 'gad; and so they shall for killing mother
Redstreak, for all they made the silly People believe, 'twas
the Bear.
Sweet.
Let's give notice to the Officers, and have them
seiz'd; when they are indurance, their tough stomacks will
soon melt.
Woud.
We'l do't,—but stay, here's fresh game, he's right
I'le warrant, I know by Enter Jeffery his leering eye.—
Sweet.
Then he's mine, for I saw him first.
Woud.
Another word like that condemns thee.
Sweet.
If y'are so Tyrannical, I'le stroll alone.
Woud.
Stay, the stripling has something to deliver.
Jeffry.
Queen None-so-fair, (Ladies most splendiferous)
Intreats you both would come, and dine at her house.
And after that great hearts to solace,
She'l show you ev'ry Nook o'th' Pallace.
My Master loveth her most fervent,
I'm Jeffry his man, and your Servant.
Woud.
Oh Fortune! luck our hopes are melted,
Sweet.
Were ever Princesses so jilted:
None-so-fair,
a Queen.—
Woud.
Let's send to Jaylor, er'bad news spread Further,
That surly Princess may be seiz'd for murther.
None-so-fair a Queen.—
Jeffry.
—True I'le assure ye.
Woud.
Come Let's behold her Pomp, and eke Luxury,
And let Heroick love be turn'd to Fury.
To Jaylor we'l send Porter as we go by,
A Queen! A faith we'l tickle her Toby.
Exeunt.
The Scene chang'd to None-so-faire house.
Enter None-so-fair, Sweetlips, and Woudhamore,
Woud.
Say no more, the Treat was splendid.
Sweet.
But where's your kind good man I wonder?
Of all your Pomp let's see the Founder.
Stay you here a little tinie,
And I'le go call my loving Ninny:
Love, Honey, Chuck, Duch, so hoe, il o ho, ho, ho.
Woud.
Our Sister Queen has an excellent voice to call
Harvest-men to Dinner.—
Oh Cross, untoward Fate! Ay that thou art!
Must she all pleasure have, and we all smart?
Sweet.
Like Image on house-top th'hast put her,
And we must crawl like Ducks in gutter.
Woud.
And see her Finery, Oh Rot her!
Such earthen Dishes, such scull Bason,
Table so scrubb'd, you may see face on,
Such shining Platters, Shelves with lace on.
Such Pots so scour'd with Sand and Whiting,
Monarch had n'r such Kitchin to delight in.
Sweet.
Her Man, her Maid, her Dog, her Cat too,
At Dinner dresser thump'd like Tattoo:
Strong-bub in Closet, and all that too.
Woud.
We thought she'ad given Crow a pudding,
And Luxury is just a budding;
And we to see't must come a gooding.
Sweet.
I cannot live to see this thing long,
A Curse on Mother Woossat's flim flam,
Are these the Fruits of flattering sing song.
Woud.
Well, luck may turn, what's more ficle then chance?
Come let's Club our Sculs, and plot Vengeance,
Her strolling jilting tricks, we'l tell'o
And make her trusty Roger yellow.
Enter Bruin, and None-so-fair.
He comes i'faith a witty fellow.
Sweet.
Oh happy Mauks! if I could reach the rope of her
heart, I would starngle her with't.
Woud.
A brave fellow! he stands like a Tree, and his legs
look like Hercules's Pillars.—
To buy love-Pouder for his sake.
Sweet.
I'le poyson my dear Sister Crack,
E'r I this Gallant thing will lack,
I must speak to him Servant Jack.
Hold, when I have supp'd with Margret Trantum,
With goodly thing you may play Rantum;
Till then ifacks y'are like to wantum.
Bru.
Ladies first y'are very wellcom; and secondly, I hope
to give you all content.—
On whom Prince Bruin casteth Sheeps eye,
You shall bouze gratis till y'are tipsie;
On stately shank rest tyr'd ham trulls,
And you shall see my tricks and gambols.
Flisco flisco whisco fibribisco fosco posco, sebosco larasco velasco,
trumdle fundle, bundle hundle, tantarra dundle—surgito
surgitote.—
The Scene drawn, and many Statues disocver'd in several postures.
Woud,
Olippy what stone works here?
Bru.
He that looks so like a despairing lover, is Peter
Whiffle eldest Son of the Countess of Puddle dock, he espoused
the Puissant Landabridas Queen of Sluts, and
hang'd himself because she would not wear fine cloaths, and
have a Gallant.
Woud.
Alas poor Peter, I would not have been so unkind
as Queen Lamberdas.
Bru.
Those two are Polynicky, Nicampoops, two valorous
Princes of Fairy-land; they div'd through Apivel to
Hell, for the love of Piss-kitchin Daughter of King Easiepate,
passed through Fire and Water, without spoiling their
Cloaths or Perriwiggs; and are now good sufficient Housekeepers
in Elizium.—
That's Rablars, the grave French Philosopher, that grew
mad with Writing the second part Tom Thum in Heroick
meetre.
Woud.
Well, he did his indeavour, though he missed his
Province.
Sweet.
Oh Woudha. Woudha. if this Image were in a warm
Bed, I'le be hang'd if I did not fetch life in him, and make
him wagg.
When a house is on fire, the Lame, Sickly, and Lazy,
frisk as if they had a swarm of Hornets about them.—
But Blade with Loves flame scorch'd and shrunk;
Will do much more for charming Punk.
These stones compell'd by Amorous Bruin,
Shall Sing and Caper to some Tuin.
Mark how dull Statue kicks and Winces.
And all for love of Nonesy Princess.
Bruin Sings like a Walloon, and Playes on a Cimball and all the Images move.—
Bru.
Now you shall hear the Images sing in praise of the
most Heroick, and Magnificient Sciences of Wenching, and
Drinking.—A Ditty fit for Sphears, and Quires of Cupid,
when Gods are deaf, and Princes grow stupid.
SONG.
And Teag in hot Isquebagh slobber.
Jocky be doing with Oatcakes and Sowing,
And sup up their brave Bonny clabber.
To be Wise, is to love and be drunk;
For drink, and that same will get you a name,
When your healths and Estates are all sunck.
Let Slaves strive for Honour and Riches,
Let Widgeons debate our Religion and State,
And Matrons be sober as Witches.
And gems deck our faces all over,
Till Palsies, and Cramps, make our eyes shine like Lamps,
For such is the true drunken lover.
A Warlike Dance, and then Exeunt all but None-so-fair, Sweetlips and Woudhamore.
None.
Now Sisters did not I rise with my back upwards
met this what do'e call him?—
Woud.
Ay! what do'e call him indeed? I'le be hang'd if he
does not deal with the Divel—Second me Lippy.—
Sweet.
No, no, the Divel he is n't so good a Scholar, 'Tis
some pitiful juggling Jack-pudding, some strolling Tumbler.
Woud.
When he grows a little weary of you, he'l strip you,
and leave you; nay, say y'are oblig'd to him, for teaching
you a modish Trade, by which you may come to keep your
Coach, if you have any Fortune.—
None.
I won't despair, since the Proverb's on my side,
Fools have Fortune, and Cracks have luck,—I can pretend
to both by vertue of my Education—
Woud.
If his Highness were true and trusty, why should he
hide his Title?
None.
Oh say no more, I tremble all over!
Enter Jeffry
Jeffry.
Madam great Sisters must be packing,
My Master finds some Trenchers lacking.
Nonsy.
How, Royal Sisters grown light finger'd?
Of Princesses was e'r so foul a thing heard;
Richer Goods in house could not be chosen,
Odznigs they cost two groats a dozen.
Woud.
How steal your Trenchers? Traps, marry come up here,
I find we should pay sauce, if we should sup here.
Sweet.
'Tis not gentilely done Faith Sister Nonsy:
Woud.
And if we had you out, i'gad we'd trounce ye.
Minxes cease your idle prittle prattle,
And render back my Goods, and Chattle.
Wond.
Minxes—a ha—let's give her battle.
Sweet.
We'l thump bewitching eyes black and blue,
Put tricks on Daughters of King Andrew.
They fight,—
Enter Bruin.
Jeffry.
Great Master comes with arms a kimboe,
Bru.
Take filching Madams hence to Limbo
Hence, or thy self shalt strait for them go.
Wouda.
Must we that have sent Princess thither, go our selves,
Hear me Justice, if there's any;
Let's not be long without company.
Bru.
Away with them,
Sweet.
As by's own Bull was kill'd Phalaris,
W'are sent to Prison by Will. Harris.
Exeunt Jeffry, Sweetlips, and Woudha.
Bru.
This was an Intrigue of love and state, poor Ladies,
they stole no Trenchers, but I heard Baggages contrive.
And to seduce if they were able,
My Importance comfortable,
Before I'm weary of Bauble.
Nonsy.
To Prison sent for filching Trencher-Plate,
When we had none in house,
Oh too too late;
I do begin to smell a Rat.
Ah wo is me! poor little mouse.
Bru.
Why frowns? my beautious dear,
Thy Forheads muffl'd in black pouts,
Like warlike Steed in Fun'ral clouts.
That did eftsoons both prance and neigh,
And briskly fell to Oats and hay,
As if he promised a fair day.
But strait in black dog'd masters Course,
My dear looks sad as morning Horse.
Nonsy.
Poh you prate, and prate, but you don't love me.
Bru.
Love thee ungrateful Imp! Ah curse on thy jealous
Devour thee without Salt or Mustard.
Ha, my Princess sniv'ling, who has disbused thee, Pydy
tell me, if I have ought can give thee ease; I swear, 'tis thine
now by this Cheese, the Oath of Gods.
Non.
Enough, and if 'tis Truth, tell me thy name, Oh
charming youth!
Bru.
Heavens! Powers! Oh hold!
Non.
Nay, nay, you have sworn.
I must have all the Secrets that are thine.
Bru.
Must I my Secretest Secret then resign?
Non.
Why should you keep your Secret? and yet take mine?
Bru.
Prythee Nonsy ask any thing else?
Non.
No, nothing.
Bru.
The Devil take me if—
Nonsy.
Is this your love? miserable unhappy Princess, perjur'd
dissembling men! before you had me, you swore any
thing.—You use poor Women, as Childrern do Bubbles;
you spare for no water of Sighs, nor black Soap of Oaths,
till you have blown us up with the Reed of your love, and
then you cast us off to break in the wide World.—Ah!
that ever I poor vertuous Lady should live to see this day!
Oh! ho, ho.
Bru.
Well if like a wall-ey'd Hare, you won't see right before
you, but run into the noose, take your ill fortune.—
Non.
Ay let me have it?
Bru.
Shall I speak?
Non.
Ay, ay, I say?
Bru.
Then I shall you say?
Non.
Odslifely kins, ay I say?
Bru.
Consider.—
Non.
I'le be hang'd first, when did a longing Woman
consider.
Non.
What, what, Oh quickly.
Bru.
I am.
Non.
Heart, blood and bones, what are you?
Bru.
Yet be wise,
Nan.
I will not be wise, not hear, nor see, nor speak till
I know.
I am Deval.
Non.
Bless us all—
Bru.
That French Prince of the Padders, that was thought
to be hang'd, I have liv'd ever since in this disguise, because
I would not quite break the kind Ladies hearts, to see me
hang'd twice.
And pawn my pretty Nonesy for the shot.
Exit Bruin, claps on the Bears skin, and flies over the Stage—The Scene chang'd to a Tavern.—
Enter two Drawers.
1.
I come, I come, did you call Sir? ha where's the Gentleman
that pays the reckning; look to the door Harry.
2.
What's the matter.—
1.
A Crack, a Crack; to pay here in the Flower Pot?
2.
Eleven and three pence; a Pox I know her she plies at
the Pagean.
Non.
O gen'rous Youth speak not untruth,
I am a Princess of King Andrews stock in sooth.—
Right Valiant Knights spare my Honour, and do what
you please, but use your Victory with discretion, for Fortunes
Wheel is still turning.—
1.
Knights Honour and Fortune, 'gad she's mad.
2.
Didst find any Honour about her?
1.
No, no Honour.—If women have any such thing, they
hide it so cunningly that none can find it.—Harry, thou
knowest we melted down a Silver Tankard to sodder up
Cisses crack'd Honour; let's swear she stoll it, and clap a
strong House upon her back to keep her warm.
2.
But first let's strip her; come strip, strip.—
1.
Ay, ay, this is she stoll our Silver Tankard; come strip:
Non.
Oh the lovely Prince?
1.
How, the Prince? 'gad she speaks Treason, lock her up
and call the Constable—away.—
Exeunt Drawers.
Oh my dear Prince, why wouldst thou fly hence, and
let thy loving Romp be stripp'd from all her Pomp.
To shark away and leave your love behind:
What ever now is thy design,
I'm sure when Nonsie's dead, he'l whine,
Crost love and grief to make an end 'o,
I'le break my neck out at a Window.
Song.
Dame chance doth smile and frown,
When heels more high then head are sent,
That's upward that was down,
And None-so-fair shall have her Bear,
—Shall have her Bear,
Redstr.
—Shall have her Bear.
Chorus.
And None-so-fair shall have her Bear,
And none shall have the sweet Beast but her.
Woossat will come for, and to chide,
From mischief fly a main,
For all must obey that are ty'd,
Till they are freed again,
Cho.
And None-so-fair &c.
The Song, ended, they Vanish.
Why should I fly dear Dad, and eke
Ghost of Redstreak.
I've nothing stoll upon my Soul,
Else wou'd I n'r might speak.
Wooss.
Dares None-so-fair with eyes of Cat?
Look on Queen hag the dread Woossat,
So Impudent not make a Cursy,
Bend stubborn hams, or 'gad I'le force ye.
Non.
What have I done? dread Witch should seeking Ruin.
Wooss.
Debauch'd my Son, my first begotten Bruin,
Taught envious men to burn my Thatch,
Nail Horse-shoe under hatch.
Nay strove by your enchanting eye,
To be a greater Witch then I.
Nonsy.
If Beauty be fault in me, 'tis Heavn's decree,
I do not paint truly, as you may see;
He took my pretty thing for his Rantidla,
I did not ask him first indeed la.
Wooss.
Dare's Minx to prate to me so proudly?
Thinking to choak my hate with loudy:
No, thou shalt never get whole hence,
But to Prison; Volens, Nolens,
To dye for Treason and Insolence.
Woossat flies away.
Enter Drawers, and Whistles.
1. Draw.
Princess, so hoe Princess!
If you have ought to say dear Crack, be short,
Black Guard won't stay.
Nonsy.
Oh well a day! I must away to Pluto's Court,
Oh State of Greatness variable!
Oh luck of Princess miserable!
| Psyche Debauch'd | |