A new play call'd The Pragmatical Jesuit new-leven'd a comedy
Carpenter, Richard, d. 1670?

Act. 4. Scen. 4.

Enter Sir John Wit-little, Madam Hypocrisie, Pretty, Lucifuga.
Hyp.

Sir John, You gave me amongst your commands, to provide for your use a small quantity of Love-powder; and here I present it to you in this little bag of silk.

Wit-l.

Madam, You oblige me be∣yond world without end, but I must re∣taliate, and return you satisfaction. Ma∣dam, pray what cost it?

Hyp.

It will be abundant satisfaction if you shall please to accept it, and that it will cost you if you have it.

Wit-l.

Dear Madam, I would I were wiser and more knowing, that I might thank you more learnedly; but I will give your Boy something, and something to your Maid. And how must I use this Love-powder, Madam?

Hyp.

Sir, You must apply the Bag a few minutes, to the Nose of the person whom you desire to fire with the love of you.

Wit-l.

Very good: this I shall dexte∣rously do.

Lucifug.

That Powder hath no such power attending upon it; my Mistresse trifles with him: but I have a perfume here, sufficiently operative, according∣ly as it is presented. Noble Sir, Pray license a poor servant from the Blacks, to present a poor something to you as an Emblem, Flag, Ensign, Obelisk, Pyramid, Trophy, of his most humble service; and vaslalage. You were pleas'd even now to give me gold; and I desire to be your grateful servant, and return your gold presently in a Present.

Wit-l.

O brave black Boy! What hast thou there that thou would'st sacrifice to me?

Lucifug.

Only a pair of Gloves, Sir.

Wit-l.

A fair pair indeed.

Lucifug.

Their greatest fairnesse is, that they were presented with a grateful heart.

Wit-l.

Where were these Gloves made, Boy?

Lucifug.

In Italy, Sir John, and there perfum'd in a Monastery.

Wit-l.

I know not what a Monastery is, but I believe 'tis a sweet place, for the Gloves are wondrous sweet.

Lucifug.

The more you acquaint them with your Nose, and smell of them, Sir John, if my Augury deceive me not, the sweeter you will find them.

Wit-l.

Boy, I would fain put my powder upon experience, before I prove it on my Mistresse.

Lucifug.

You may, Sir, with expe∣dition. Which of these, my Mistresse of her Maid, do you desire should love you?

Wit-l.

I know not which, they are both comely. I could love them both: let them both love me.

Lucifug.

Why then it shall be so.

Page  34
Wit-l.

But how shall I apply the Bag to their Noses?

Lucifug.

O Sir, I can lay them both to sleep in a moment.

Wit-l.

That will be fine indeed. But how, prythee?

Lucifug.

By murmuring a certain ma∣gical word in their ears. I shall effect all this presently. Madam, The fat Val∣lyes are low and humble: I humbly desire leave to deliver an humble word to you in your ear.

Vaing.

Do so, Boy.

Lucifug.

And another to you, Mi∣stresse Pretty, preambled with a loving kisse.

Pret.

Contented, so that you leave behind you, none of your Blackamore∣ship upon my lips.

Lucifug.

Fear not; I'le not part from any of it.

Vaing.

Sleep takes me by storm.

She sits, and sleeps. Pretty yawns.

Pret.

That's my first and last Peal to sleep.

She fits, and sleeps.

Lucifug.

Now Sir John, use your silken Bag.

Wit-l.

Thou art a rare black Boy. My House here in London shall be prefac'd with the Sign of the black Boy, for thy sake.

Lucifug.

I shall be rarer presently, if I fail not in my Prognosticks. Sir John, with your other hand ward the sent from your own Nose, by applying your Gloves to it.

Wit-l.

Thy counsel's seasonable. I am tickled with the thought, how vehe∣mently these two fair-ones, this pair of Beauties will love me.

Lucifug.

Now remove your siege to the other. Sir John, they will love you most amorously; love you above them∣selves; above whatsoever is most dear to them, or the world cals precious Enough; now conceal your Bag.

They both start, one after the other, as out of a dream, and wake.

On with your Gloves Sir John, and avert the smell of the Powder.

Vaing.

Sir John, you are natures Ma∣sterpiece, the world's chief Jewel, and earth's prime Perfection; the Sun it self is not more radiant.

Wit-l.

Egregious Powder; pure Italy.

Prett.

Sir John, This Lady is my Mi∣stresse indeed; but you are the grand Duke and Master of my affections.

Wit'l.

Poor Heart. I have powder'd you both.

Vaing.

Sir John, you are like the Herb called the Tartar-Lamb, that with secret pullings attracts the juyce and vir∣tue of, and seems, like our Lamb in the fields, to put a mouth to, and open∣ly feed upon the Plants and Herbs on eve∣ry side of it. You have attracted both our loves to your self, and we fade and wither, as being so near you without en∣joyment.

Prett.

A certain learned Physitian was of the mind, that the world would thrive better, if none but young, strong, and healthful persons should be parents, and procreate children. Sir John and I are healthful, strong, and young.

Wit-l.

Distressed Girl.

Vaing.

I hope and fear, and after the first lineaments of my fear, wipe all a∣way and hope again, and in the strength and puissance of this last hope, I will go to him couragiously. Pray Sir John, salute me.

Wit-l.

Most willingly, sweet Lady.

Prett.

His language is direct, and hath no enormous obliquity in it; it is of the finest silk, the softest feather. I presume he will answer me with like ci∣vility. Page  44 Sir John, I am my Mistresses Ape, and would fain imitate her: pray give me your blessing, I mean the blessing of your warm lips.

Wit-l.

Sweet Maid, I blesse thee. O Paragons, thou of Women, she of Maids! In my Fancy, I am now kingdom'd, crown'd, scepter'd, thron'd, and foot∣stool'd.

He starts.

What means this? My Heart, and Head are both dart-wounded toge∣ther.

Vaing.

My love of Sr John, is not an ear∣thy passion, it is rather a celestial flame kindled at the Planet Venus. Prett. Every thing grows vile when it is joyned with a thing beneath it self, as silver combined with lead: but a thing is dignified and exalted, when united with a better thing, as lead commixed with silver. I should receive worth, lustre, and splendour, if joyned with Sir John Wit-little; and I should be the Lady Wit-little.

Wit-l.

Dregs of women-kind, I ab∣hor you both: I abominate all your sex: the Toad is not so loathsome to me. Here is my Joy: most beautious Boy, my on∣ly Joy, I love thee; love thee with weight, and without measure.

Vaing.

Now you are fast, Ha ha he. Laugh Pretty, Ha ha he.

Prett.

Ha ha he. My Mistresse laughs so heartily, that I am her Eccho.

Vaing.

Had we brought him true love-powder, he would have played false with his Mistresse, whom we destin and shall quickly make over to a Nunnery. Now he feels the virtue of Italian Gloves.

Wit-l.

Who stuck those Lillies in thy face? What Artist so knowingly mingled the Lillies and Roses there? O my white Boy, my Angelical Boy, I have a trian∣gular glasse in my Fancy, and mine eyes act after it, and behold all rich colours in thy face. Thy face is like, and not like the Rainbow; in thy face, there is both Bow and Arrow; from thy face I am shot; I am on fire with such a con∣flagration of love towards thee, that I can scarcely contain my self from falling down before thee and adoring thee.

Lucifug.

If you love me, follow me.

Wit-l.

He must follow thee who can∣not live without thee, or love any but thee?

Exeunt those two.

Vaing.

Now the work is upon the wheel, and runs on apace, It grows high, a short time will ripen it.

She whispers to Pretty.

Exit Pretty.

Enter Lord Liberal and Mrs Dorothy.
L. Lib.

Sir John Wit-little, where is he? Where is Sir John, Madam?

Vaing.

He was here, my Lord, and here he walk'd and talk'd, and all-bepas∣sion'd himself in the uproar of his own thoughts, as pretending that your Noble Kinswoman did not look favourably up∣on him: on a sudden, he catcht himself away, without any civil adieu, vowing at the threshold, that he would immedi∣ately travel beyond the bounds of this Island, and never turn his foot again to∣wards this House, or Countrey.

L. Lib.

Upon my Honour, I am sor∣ry. This is your fault, Nice.

Dor.

My Lord, It is my happinesse that I am deliver'd from a Fool.

L Lib.

But Nice, That Fool came of wise parents, and is a large-landed Fool; he is worth a thousand-wise-men of or∣dinary condition.

Dor.

True worth, my Lord, is not mea∣sur'd by the false rule of Riches.

L. Lib.

Cozen, Cozen, Where there are riches without measure, education will fashion a child begotten by a Fool, into a person of true worth.

Dor.

The short and the long is, If I Page  45 should have lov'd him in short for your sake, for my own sake I could not have lov'd him long.

Enter Pretty, smiling.
Vaing.

Why smile you, Maid?

Prett.

There is a Changeling at the door, who begs with a basket hook'd on his arm: He talks and behaves himself so strangely, that he would raise a spirit of laughter in a stone.

Dor.

My Lord, pray let me see him. A little Recreation unbends, and eases me.

L. Lib.

Let him be call'd hither.

Vaing.

Maid, call him.

Exit Pretty.

Madam Dorothy.

This Changeling is your Ghostly Father: from a Jesuite he is new-alchymiz'd into a Benedictine: such a Gradation being lawfull, because the Benedictine is the more perfect. And your experience will plain it to you, that he is the far more perfect, I dare say to my self, Knave. He brings the Basket, therein to carry away part of your por∣tion.

L. Lib.

A Changeling cannot endan∣ger my Cozen within the circle of my fears.

Enter Lucifer like a Changeling, and Pretty.
Lucifer.

O rich Cozens, rich Cozens, how do ye all here? how do you? Rich Cozens, give something to your poor Cozen; some bread and cheese, or eggs, or pie, or bacon, or what ye please, rich Cozen. Ha, ha, he. O, that's my Lord-Cozen: what an unmannerly fool am I? I should stand a great away off, I should not come near my Lord Cozen. Good day to you, Lord Cozen. My Lord Co∣zen is a jolly fine old man: Ha, ha, he.

L. Lib.

Friend, come neer, what hast thou in thy basket?

Lucifer.

My basket is therefore shut, because you should not see what I have there, Lord Cozen: Ha, ha, he. But in earnest Lord Cozen, I have nothing there yet, I thank you.

L. Lib.

Dost thou thank me, that thou hast nothing there?

Lucif.

I, Lord Cozen, I thank you for nothing, Ha, ha, he.

L. Lib.

You shall thank me for some∣thing, anon.

Lucif.

So I will when I have it, Lord Cozen, Ha, ha, he.

L. Lib.

Nice, I commit the storing of his basket to you: let it be well fill'd.

Dor.

I undertake it as a work of Cha∣rity.

Lucif.

Thank you heartily, pretty Cozen: you are a very pretty Cozen: and I love a pretty Cozen heartily: Ha, ha, he. And Cozens all, if you be good Cozens, help me to a Wife amongst you. Lord Cozen, I want a Wife: Ha, ha, he.

L. Lib.

Thou knowst not how to use a Wife.

Lucif.

To use a Wife is a natural work, Lord Cozen: and a Natural knows it best. Ha, ha, he.

L. Lib.

He sayes true. But why does he pull up his right leg hastily in that man∣ner?

Vain-gl.

My Lord, it is the custom of Changelings. I should think it were, be∣cause he belongs to other Parents, and his right foot intends a nimble motion to∣wards them.

Lucif.

Pretty Cozen, Is that your Mother?

Dor.

No: She is a Gentleman's Wife in the City here.

Lucif.

Gentleman's Wife, and my lo∣ving Cozen, how do you? Ha, ha, he.

Vaing.

Well I thank you, fool.

Page  46
Lucif.

Cozen, Cozen; have you made a fool of me, that you call me so? Ha, ha, he.

Vaing.

No, no: I am thy Friend. I shall help to the filling of thy Basket.

Lucif.

I thank you, Cozen Fool.

Vaing.

I perceive, we must not call him fool.

L. Lib.

No. The veriest Fools think themselves the wisest.

Lucif.

I, I, Lord Cozen; that's the reason that so many rich and great men think themselves so wise. Lord Cozen, let me ask you a simple question without offence.

L. Lib.

Speak freely.

Lucif.

I will, Lord Cozen. My sim∣ple question is: whether it be possible to make a fool of a Lord? Ha, ha, he.

L. Lib.

Why truly, a man may make a Lord of a Fool: But it is not ordinary to make a Fool of a Lord, except it be of such a Lord as was made a Lord of a Fool.

Lucif.

Right, Lord Cozen, very right. My back-part itches, Lord Cozen: some good is coming towards me.

L. Lib.

Thou art a Fool in grain, an unmannerly Fool. He comes a gooding. Nice, Take in the fool with you, and load his basket with good Provision; then send him packing. Madam, pray refresh your self a little farther before you leave us.

Vaing.

My Lord, you are noble.

Dor.

Come, Cozen.

Lucif.

I, I, pretty Cozen. Pretty Co∣zen, I will follow you close. Mrs Dorothy, a word of advertisement: the next time, I come as a Chimny-sweeper; af∣terwards as a Tinker.

Dor.

I understand you. And you shall only sweep my Chimny, mend and scour my Kettel.

Exeunt.