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

Scene 1.

Mrs. Dorothy at the Window.
Dor.

THe good man, and my blessed Father, now a Benedictine, has been twice more with me, first Chim∣ney-sweeper, then Tinker-like; he has perform'd his part to the last and least point of Action; and all the money is gone with him, by a most cleanly con∣veyance. In my thinking, since he went Benedictine, he has publickly more of of Saint in his face, and reaches farther and is more active privately. This is the Now of Time, wherein he promis'd to come, and divert our houshold here, that they being held by the eyes, and amused in their Fancies, I might make my escape, and steer towards a Nunnery.

Enter Lucifer, leading an Ape.

There he comes. Blessed Man, he keeps close to his Time.

Lucifer.

The Silk-Worm,

They make signes. She departs.
and the Spider, both work; and both, out of their own bowels and substance. So far they work together. Now they differ in their working. One of them only works substantially. The Spider works for his own private end and gain, (great gain to gain a little Flye;) The Silk-Worme for others. The Spider works a poor, thin, weak, black, idle Web; the Silk-Worm a rich, fair, Silken Substance. The con∣clusion falls thus, The Spiders work is swept, and swept; swept down, and Page  50 swept away; the work of the Silk-Worm is a Courtier, and acceptable to Princes. I deal in Thousands; I work for the Re∣ligious Brethren in our Abby of Lamb∣spring, and in our Monasteries of Doway, Paris, Dulewart, St. Malloes: These will feed fat, and pray for me when I am lean and rotten.

Enter L. Liberal, with a staff in his hand, and a Page after him.
L. Lib.

A walk to the Royal Exchange and home again, will beget me a good ap∣petite to my supper. Now Friend, what's your business here?

Lucifer.

My very good Lord, no great business: But, if it please you, my Lord: that is: if it be not offensive to your Lord∣ship: that is: if your good Lordship thinks it convenient: that is: if your Ho∣nour deem honourably of it: that is.

L. Lib.

Speak, friend, leave shaking of thy head, and speak.

Lucifer.

That is.

L. Lib.

Away with that That is, do not retard your business.

Lucifer.

I would make your Honours Servants a little Pastime, my Lord: I, and my bonny Beast here. An old Ape has an old eye, my Lord.

L. Lib.

Well, well, if this be all, we shall agree. The Times are now quiet a∣gain, I thank Heaven: and my House is a house of singular freedom, and of Enter∣tainment as free as Noble. But what can you and your Ape do?

Lucifer.

Do? Rather, what can we not do, my Lord? We can Dance, Ca∣per, Curvet, shew Tricks of all sorts, fashions, conditions; drink whole Boles, play at Cards, Dice, Tables; fight at back-Sword, single-Rapier, at Sword and Dag∣ger, quarter-Staff; (my Ape's an expert Fencer, my Lord;) run a Tilt; sing Prick't-Song; shew you a Maid (and that's a wonder, my Lord,) and shew you a Maid that goes for a Maid, and is not a Maid, (and my Lord, that's no wonder at all:) If your Lordship has a Thief or a Drunkard amongst your Ser∣vants, my Ape will bring him forth. An old Ape has an old eye, my Lord.

L. Lib.

A nimble-pated Fellow. Go in, Friend: Tell my Servants I gave you leave to enter my house. I intended a walk: but if I hear my Servants are pleas'd with your Pastime, I'le come and be your Spe∣ctator my self.

Lucifer.

My Lord, your more than thrice humble servants, I and my Ape. An old Ape has an old eye, my Lord.

Exit Lucifer.

L. Lib.

Go thy way: thou dost out∣wit the Ape, I warrant thee. O my poor Nice, if she were reduc'd, I should be mertier, more debonnaire, and more delighted with such sights than I am. Men have learned the way of changing bitter Almond-trees into sweet ones: which is: they pierce them near to the root, and let forth the bitter juyce: so these bit∣ter-hearted Romanists should let their perverse and sower inclinations forth, at the root of their Hearts; and become of bitter, better. The Priests, whose actions are as dirty as their thoughts are foul, have wrought this irrecoverable mischief in my house. The Physitians, that they may draw the vapours from the head of the Patient, apply Pigeons to the soles of his feet: If these seven-hill'd Saints would walk innocently, and with Pige∣ons at their feet; they would not be troubled with such gross and idle fumes in their Brains as they are. They do not con∣sider, that the Life of man is a very Bub∣ble: A Bubble puts on the form of an Hemisphere: And shadowing half the Page  51 world, as being an Hemisphere; it ac∣cordingly consists of two Elements; It is Air within, which is invisible for its Rarity; and without, a thinne-shap'd Skinne of Water: and there is all the Bubble. The Air deciphers our soul; and the watery skin, our body: the skin presently breaks: the Aire as presently breaks loose; and there is a present end of the Bubble.

A shouting and laughing within of men and women.

There's my invitation. I would not let desire loose to range through the world, like a wilde-Ass in the Arabian Desert; but honest recreations are the Didacticks of humane providence.

Exit L. Liberal.

Page.

The servants are all met to view the Sport which the Ape and his Master make; and I must be their Ape, imitate them, and adde to the number.

Enter Mrs. Dorothy.
Dor.

This idle Page obstructs my way.

Page,

Mrs. Dorothy, with your faire leave, you know that all the Servants are charg'd to acquaint my Lord, if you stir out of the house, as now you have, or be∣yond the Garden.

Dor.

Pretty Boy hold thy peace, thou wert alwayes my friend, there's a piece for thee. Delay the search after me, till I have pass'd this street and the next.

Page,

Madam, I shall not be wanting to your design.

Exit Mrs. Dor.

She's gone. I must keep silence now, or go too.

A loud laughing within.

My Lord Liberal at the Door.
L. Lib.

Page, where are you?

Page,

Here, my Lord.

L. Lib.

Call my Nice down: tell her, here's very pretty sport.

He disappears.

Page,

I go, my Lord, I move as quick as lightning. I have read in an English Author of a melancholy-she that thought she could break to pieces, the whole world with the motion of one short fin∣ger; and crush it into a Miscellany with the clintching of her little hand. Mrs. Do∣rothy thinks now, that she has the great world in her little maiden hands, to dis∣pose of as she list. Liberty is sweet, espe∣cially after a long and tedious time of re∣straint. The Bird out of the Cage, is like the Bird that saw the Sea, turn'd and made a long flight the clean contrary way: she wings it in the Air, at length, weary, pearches upon a Bough, and sings for joy, she is not bounded.

Alaugh∣ing within, yet lowder.

Lord Within,

Page, why Page, Page I say.

Page,

My Lord.

Lord,

Where's my Nice? why comes she not?

Page,

She is not in her Chamber, my Lord. I am going to the Garden: she's there, my Lord, I think.

Lord,

Make hast, Page.

Page,

All the hast I make, shall not overtake Mrs. Dorothy. And hast thou given me a twenty shilling piece, sweet Virgin? I'le keep it for thy sake: and it shall conserve the Idea of thee in my thoughts. She must be now out of reach, or in some nearness to it.

Laughing and shouting within.

Lord within.

Page.

Page,

Let him call again, 'twill open his pipes.

Lord,

Page you Rogue.

Page,

I will not answer to the name of Rogue: let him call once more.

Lord,

Page, my Nice.

Page,

My Lord, I cannot see her in the Garden. The Privy door is shut. But I shut it.

Page  52 Enter Lord Liberal.
L. Lib.

How? is she not in her Cham∣ber? nor to be seen in the Garden? She never staid so long in the little House there, Servants, search all the house. Go page, kick forth that rascal-fellow with the Ape O my Nice, my Nice. A noise within of searching.

Exit Page.

Servants, search every corner, every Ratand Mouse-hole.

Enter Lucifer, and the Page kicking him.
Lucifer,

Good Mr. Page, kick not so hard.

Page.

Not just so hard, but harder if I can. Out, you ditch and dunghill rascal; foh; I have kick'd him till he stinks a∣gain.

L. Lib.

Let me give him one kick. He is a Rogue by Act of Parliament: foh: He or his Ape stinks, or both.

Luoifer.

Good my Lord, spare me. Why then did your Lordship admit a Rogue into your house.

L. Lib.

Take another kick for that, you profes't Rogue.

Page,

I must bid you farewell with a parting kick.

Exit Lucifer.

From within three several wayes.

From within, She is not in this Cham∣ber. Here she is not. I cannot find her this way.

L. Lib.

Poyse her Trunks, and answer presently what weight they bear.

Within,

That's done already, my Lord: there's nothing in them.

L. Lib.

I am undone: my Nice is lost, she is lost. Had she the invisible Ring? or did she send her money away by night through the Air, as Witches ride? I'le search all the house my self, and add the evidence of my own senses. O this cursed Ape-Carrier; he has embroil'd us all; he was at least the occasion of her escape, if she be gone.

Exeunt.