University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

SCENE An Antichamber.
MOTHER PUNCHBOWL, LEATHERSIDES, NONPAREL, INDUSTRIOUS JENNY.
MOTHER.
Who'd be a Bawd in this degen'rate Age!
Who'd for her Country unrewarded toil!
Not so the Statesman scrubs his plotful Head,
Not so the Lawyer shakes his unseed Tongue,
Not so the Doctor guides the doseful Quill.
Say Nonparel, industrious Jenny, say,
Is the Play done and yet no Cull appears?

NONPAREL.
The Play is done: For from the Pigeon-hole
I heard them hiss the Curtain as it fell.

MOTHER.
Ha, did they hiss? Why then the Play is damn'd,
And I shall see the Poet's Face no more.
Say, Leathersides, 'tis thou that best canst tell:
For thou hast learnt to read, hast Play-bills read,
The Grubstreet Journal thou hast known to write,
Thou art a Judge; say, wherefore was it damn'd?

LEATHERSIDES.
I heard a Tailor sitting by my side,
Play on his Catcal, and cry out, sad Stuff.
A little farther an Apprentice sat,
And he too hiss'd, and he too cry'd, 'twas low.
Then o'er the Pit I downward cast my Eye,
The Pit all hiss'd, all whistled, and all groan'd.

MOTHER.
Enough. The Poet's lost, and so's his Bill.
Oh! 'tis the Tradesman, not the Poet's Hurt:
For him the Washerwoman toils in vain,
For him in vain the Taylor sits cross'd-legg'd,
He runs away and leaves all Debts unpaid.

LEATHERSIDES.
The mighty Captain Bilkum this way comes.
I left him in the Entry with his Chairman
Wrangling about his Fare.

MOTHER.
Leathersides, 'tis well.
Retire, my Girls, and patient wait for Culls.

SCENE II.

MOTHER PUNCHBOWL, CAPTAIN BILKUM, CHAIRMAN.
CHAIRMAN.
Your Honour, Sir, has paid but half my Fare.
I ask but for my Fare.

CAPTAIN BILKUM.
Thy Fare be damn'd.

CHAIRMAN.
This is not acting like a Gentleman.

CAPTAIN BILKUM.
Begone, or by the Powers of Dice I swear,
Were there no other Chairman in the World,
From out thy empty Head, I'd knock thy Brains.

CHAIRMAN.
Oh, that with me, all Chairmen would conspire,
No more to carry such sad Dogs for Hire,
But let the lazy Rascals straddle thro' the Mire.

SCENE III.

CAPTAIN BILKUM, MOTHER PUNCHBOWL.
MOTHER.
What is the Reason, Captain, that you make
This Noise within my House? Do you intend
To arm reforming Constables against me?
Wou'd it delight your Eyes to see me dragg'd
By base Plebeian Hands to Westminster,
The Scoff of Serjeants and Attornies Clerks,
And then exalted on the Pillory,
To stand the Sneer of ev'ry virtuous Whore?
Oh! cou'dst thou bear to see the rotten Egg
Mix with my Tears, and trickle down my Cheeks,
Like Dew distilling from the full blown Rose:
Or see me follow the attractive Cart,
To see the Hangman lift the Virgal Rod,
That Hangman you so narrowly escap'd!

CAPTAIN BILKUM.
Ha! that last Thought has stung me to the Soul;
Damnation on all Laws and Lawyers too:
Behold thee carted—oh! forefend that Sight,
May Bilkum's Neck be stretch'd before that Day.

MOTHER.
Come to my Arms, thou best belov'd of Sons,
Forgive the Weakness of thy Mother's Fears:
Oh! may I never, never see thee hang'd!

CAPTAIN BILKUM.
If born to swing, I never shall be drown'd:
Far be it from me, with too curious Mind,
To search the Office whence eternal Fate
Issues her Writs of various Ills to Men;
Too soon arrested we shall know our Doom,
And now a present Evil gnaws my Heart.
Oh! Mother, Mother—

MOTHER.
Say, what wou'd my Son?

CAPTAIN BILKUM.
Get me a Wench, and lend me half a Crown.

MOTHER.
Thou shalt have both.

CAPTAIN BILKUM.
Oh! Goodness most unmatch'd,
What are your 'Nelope's compar'd to thee?
In vain we'd search the Hundreds of the Town,
From where, in Goodman's-Fields, the City Dame
Emboxed sits, for two times Eighteen Pence.
To where at Midnight Hours, the nobler Race
In borrow'd Voice, and mimick Habit squeak.
Yet where, oh where is such a Bawd as thou?

MOTHER.
Oh! deal not Praise with such a lavish Tongue,
If I excel all others of my Trade,
Thanks to those Stars that taught me to excel!

SCENE IV.

MOTHER PUNCHBOWL, CAPTAIN BILKUM, LEATHERSIDES.
LEATHERSIDES.
A Porter from Lovegirlo is arriv'd,
If in your Train one Harlot can be found,
That has not been a Month upon the Town;
Her, he expects to find in Bed by two.

MOTHER.
Thou, Leathersides, best know'st such Nymphs to find,
To thee, their Lodgings they communicate.
Go, thou procure the Girl, I'll make the Punch,
Which she must call for when she first arrives.
Oh! Bilkum, when I backward cast my Thoughts,
When I revolve the glorious Days I've seen,
(Days I shall see no more)—it tears my Brain.
When Culls sent frequent, and were sent away.
When Col'nels, Majors, Captains, and Lieutenants,
Here spent the Issue of their glorious Toils;
These were the Men, my Bilkum, that subdu'd
The haughty Foe, and paid for Beauty here.
Now we are sunk to a low Race of Beaus,
Fellows unfit for Women or for War;
And one poor Cull is all the Guests I have.

SCENE V.

LEATHERSIDES, MOTHER PUNCHBOWL, BILKUM.
LEATHERSIDES.
Two Whores, great Madam, must be straight prepar'd,
A fat one for the 'Squire, and for my Lord a lean.

MOTHER.
Be that thy Care. This weighty Bus'ness done,
A Bowl of humming Punch shall glad my Son.

SCENE VI.

BILKUM
solus.
Oh! 'tis not in the Pow'r of Punch to ease
My Grief-stung Soul, since Hecatissa's false,
Since she could hide a poor half Guinea from me.
Oh! had I search'd her Pockets ere I rose,
I had not left a single Shilling in them.
But lo! Lovegirlo comes, I will retire.

SCENE VII.

LOVEGIRLO, GALLONO.
GALLONO.
And wilt thou leave us for a Woman thus!
Art thou Lovegirlo? Tell me, art thou he,
Whom I have seen the Saffron-colour'd Morn
With rosy Fingers beckon home in vain?
Than whom none oftner pull'd the pendent Bell,
None oftner cry'd, another Bottle bring;
And canst thou leave us for a worthless Woman?

LOVEGIRLO.
I charge thee, my Gallono, do not speak
Ought against Woman; by Kissinda's Smiles,
(Those Smiles more worth than all the Cornwall Mines)
When I drank most, 'twas Woman made me drink,
The Toast was to the Wine an Orange-Peel.

GALLONO.
Oh! wou'd they spur us on to noble Drink,
I too wou'd be a Lover of the Sex.
And sure for nothing else they were design'd,
Woman was only born to be a Toast.

LOVEGIRLO.
What Madness moves thy slander-hurling Tongue?
Woman! What is there in the World like Woman?
Man without Woman is a single Boot,
Is half a Pair of Sheers. Her wanton Smiles
Are sweeter than a Draught of cool small Beer
To the scorch'd Palate of a waking Sot.
Man is a Puppet which a Woman moves
And dances as she will—Oh! had it not
Been for a Woman, thou hadst not been here.

GALLONO.
And were it not for Wine—I would not be.
Wine makes a Cobler greater than a King;
Wine gives Mankind the Preference to Beasts,
Thirst teaches all the Animals to drink,
But Drunkenness belongs to only Man.

LOVEGIRLO.
If Woman were not, my Gallono, Man
Wou'd make a silly Figure in the World.

GALLONO.
And without Wine all Human-kind wou'd be
One stupid, sniveling, sneaking, sober Fellow.

LOVEGIRLO.
What does the Pleasures of our Life refine?
'Tis charming Woman.

GALLONO.
Wine.

LOVEGIRLO.
'Tis Woman.

GALLONO.
Wine.

SCENE VIII.

BILKUM.
Much may be said on both sides of this Question;
Let me consider what the Question is:
If Wine or Woman be our greater Good,
Wine is a Good—and so is Woman too,
But which the greater Good [Along Pause]
I cannot tell
Either to other to prefer I'm loth,
But he does wisest who takes most of both.

SCENE IX.

LOVEGIRLO, KISSINDA.
LOVEGIRLO.
Oh! my Kissinda! oh! how sweet art thou?
Nor Covent-Garden, nor Stocks-Market knows
A Flower like thee; less sweet the Sunday Rose,
With which, in Country Church, the Milk-maid decks
Her ruddy Breast: Ne'er wash'd the courtly Dame
Her Neck with Honey-water half so sweet.
Oh! thou art Perfume all; a Perfume Shop.

KISSINDA.
Cease, my Lovegirlo, oh! thou hast a Tongue
Might charm a Bailiff to forego his Hold.
Oh! I cou'd hear thee ever, cou'd with Joy
Live a whole Day upon a Dish of Tea,
And listen to the Bagpipes in thy Voice.

LOVEGIRLO.
Hear this, ye Harlots, hear her and reform;
Not so the Miser loves to see his Gold,
Not so the Poet loves to see his Play,
Not so the Critick loves to see a Fault,
Not so the Beauty loves to see herself,
As I delight to see Kissinda smile.

KISSINDA.
Oh! my Lovegirlo, I must hear no more,
Thy Words are strongest Poison to my Soul;
I shall forget my Trade and learn to dote.

LOVEGIRLO.
Oh! give a Loose to all the Warmth of Love.
Love like a Bride upon the Second Night;
I like a ravish'd Bridegroom on the First.

KISSINDA.
Thou know'st too well a Lady of the Town
If she give way to Love must be undone.

LOVEGIRLO.
The Town! thou shalt be on the Town no more,
I'll take thee into Keeping, take thee Rooms
So large, so furnish'd, in so fine a Street,
The Mistress of a Jew shall envy thee,
By Jove, I'll force the sooty Tribe to own,
A Christian keeps a Whore as well as they.

KISSINDA.
And wilt thou take me into Keeping—?

LOVEGIRLO.
Yes.

KISSINDA.
Then I am blest indeed—and I will be
The kindest, gentlest, and the cheapest Girl.
A Joint of Meat a Day is all I ask,
And that I'll dress my self—A Pot of Beer
When thou din'st from me, shall be all my Wine;
Few Clothes I'll have, and those too Second-hand;
Then when a Hole within thy Stocking's seen,
(For Stockings will have Holes) I'll darn it for thee,
With my own Hands I'll wash thy soapen'd Shirt,
And make the Bed I have unmade with thee.

LOVEGIRLO.
Do virtuous Women use their Husbands so?
Who but a Fool wou'd marry that can keep—
What is this Virtue that Mankind adore?
Sounds less the scolding of a virtuous Tongue!
Or who remembers, to increase his Joy,
In the last Moments of excessive Bliss,
The Ring, the License, Parson, or his Clerk?
Besides, whene'er my Mistress plays me foul,
I cast her, like a dirty Shirt, away.
But oh! a Wife sticks like a Plaister fast,
Like a perpetual Blister to the Pole.

KISSINDA.
And wilt thou never throw me off—?

LOVEGIRLO.
Never,
'Til thou art soil'd.

KISSINDA.
Then turn me to the Streets,
Those Streets you took me from.

LOVEGIRLO.
Forbid it all
Ye Powers propitious to unlawful Love.
Oh! my Kissinda, by this Kiss I swear,
(This Kiss, which at a Shilling is not dear)
I wou'd not quit the Joys this Night shall give,
For all the virtuous Wives or Maids alive.
Oh! I am all on Fire, thou lovely Wench,
Torrents of Joy my burning Soul must quench,
Reiterated Joys!
Thus burning from the Fire, the Washer lifts
The red-hot Iron to make smooth her Shifts,
With Arm impetuous rubs her Shift amain,
And rubs, and rubs, and rubs it oe'r again;
Nor sooner does her rubbing Arm withhold,
'Till she grows warm, and the hot Iron cold.