Cutter of Coleman-Street a comedy : the scene London, in the year 1658 / written by Abraham Cowley.
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- Cutter of Coleman-Street a comedy : the scene London, in the year 1658 / written by Abraham Cowley.
- Author
- Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.
- Publication
- London :: Printed for Henry Herringman ...,
- 1663.
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"Cutter of Coleman-Street a comedy : the scene London, in the year 1658 / written by Abraham Cowley." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A34817.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed April 24, 2025.
Pages
Page 2
Scene 2.
I ha' been considering, and considering all Night, Dick, for your good, and me-thinks, supposing I were a young man again, and the case my own (for I love to be just in all things) me-thinks 'tis hard for a young man, I say, who has been a Lover so long as you ha' been, to break off on a suddain. Am I in the right or no, Dick? Do you mark me?
Why so I thought; and therefore out o' my care for your ease, I have hit upon an Expedient that I think will salve the matter!
Why! well said, Dick, and I'me glad with all my Heart, I thought upon't; in brief, 'tis this, Dick; I ha' found out another Mistris for you.
Page 3
Very well, Dick, if you be a dutiful son to me, you shall have a good Estate, and so has she;
There's Sympathy for you now; but I perceive You'r hankring still after Mrs. Lucy,Do, do! forswear your self; do, damn your self, and be a beggar too; sure I would never undo my self, by perjury; if I had a mind to go to hell, Cromwel should make me a Lord for't! I, and one of his Councel too, I'de never be damn'd for nothing, for a Whim∣wham in a Coif. But to be short, The person I design for you is Mrs. Tabith Baarebottle, our neighbour the Widow's daughter. What do you start at, Sirra? I, Sirra, Jack an-apes, if you start when your father speaks to you.
You did not think her father once I'me sure A person fit for your Alliance, when he plundred your House in Hart∣fordshire, and took away the very Hop-poles, pretending they were Arms too.
He was a very Rogue, that's the Truth on't, as to the business between man and man, but as to God-ward he was always counted an Upright man, and very devout. But that's all one, I'me sure h'as rais'd a fine Estate out o' nothing by his Industry in these Times: An' I had not been a Beast too— but Heaven's will be done, I could not ha' don't with a good conscience. Well, Dick, I'le go talk with her mother about this matter, and examine fully what her Estate is, for unless it prove a good one, I tell you true, Dick, I'me o' your Opinion, not to marry such a Rogues daughter.
Page 4
'Tis well the old man's just gone. There's a Gentlewoman without, Sir, desires to speak one word with you.
With me? who is't?
It should be Mrs. Lucia by her voice, Sir, but she's veil'd all over. Will you please to see her, Sir?
Will I see her, Blockhead? yes; go out and kneel to her And pray her to come in.
Scene 3.
Page 5
I come onely to let you know, that the Physician and the 'Pothecary will do this morning what we propos'd, be ready at hand, if there should be occasion for your presence, I dare not stay one minute. Farewel.
Scene 4.
Give me the Pills; what said the Doctor, Will?
He said a great deal, Sir, but I was not Doctor enough to un∣derstand half of it.
A man may drink, he says, for all these Bawbles?
He's ill advised if he give your Worship drinking Pills, for when you were drinking last together, a Fit took you to beat the Do∣ctor, which your Worship told him was a new Disease.
He was drunk then himself first, and spoke False Latin, which becomes a Doctor worse than a beating. But he does not remember that, I hope, now?
I, Melancholy; I shall ha' need of them then, for my old Purger of Melancholy, Canary, will grow too dear for me shortly; my own Estate was sold for being with the King at Oxford. A Curse upon an old Dunce that needs must be going to Oxford at my years! My good Neighbor, I thank him, Collonel Fear-the
Page 6
Lord-Barebottle, a Saint and a Sope-boyler, bought it; But he's dead, and boiling now himself, that's the best of't; There's a Cavalier's comfort! If his damnable Wife now would marry me, it would re∣turn again, as I hope all things will at last; and even that too were as hard a Composition for ones own, as ever was made at Habber-dashers-Hall; but hang her, she'l ha' none o' me, unless I were True Rich and Counterfeit Godly; let her go to her husband; (so much for that— It does not go down
Will, did you send for Colonel Cutter and Captain Worm, to come and keep me company this morning that I take Physick? They'l be loth to come to day, there's so little hope o' drinking here.
I could Repent now heartily, but that 'twould look as if I were compell'd to't, and besides if it should draw me to Amend∣ment, 'twould undo me now, till I ha' gotten something. 'Tis a hard case to wrong my pretty Niece; but unless I get this wicked Wi∣dow, I and my daughter must starve else; and that's harder yet; Ne∣cessity is, as I take it, Fatality, and that will excuse all things, O! Here they are!
Scene 5.
Welcome! Men o' war, what news abroad in Town?
Brave news I faith, it arriv'd but yesterday by an Irish Priest, that came over in the habit of a Fish-wife, a cunning fellow, and a man o' business, he's to lie Leiger here for a whole Irish College be∣yond-Sea, and do all their Affairs of State. The Captain spoke with him last night at the Blew Anchor!
Page 7
Well, and what is't?
Why, Business is afloat again; the King has muster'd five and twenty thousand men in Flanders, as tall Fellows as any are in Christendom.
A pox upon you for a couple of gross Cheats!
I wonder from what fools in what blind corners you get a dinner for this stuff.
Nay, there's another News that's stranger ye, but for that let the Captain Answer.
I confess I should ha' thought it very ridiculous, but that I saw it from a good hand beyond Sea, under Black and White, and all in Cypher.
Oh it cann't miss then; what may it be, pray?
Oh! that's in revenge of the late barbarous Murder of their brethren here I warrant you!
Why all this to a friend that knows you? where were thy former Bouts, I prethee Cutter? where didst thou ever serve the King, or when?
Why every where; and the last time at Worcester
If I never serv'd him since, the faults not mine; an there had been any Action—
At Worcester, Cutter? prethee how got's thou thither?
Why as you and all other Gentlemen should ha' done; I car∣ri'd him in a Troop of Reformado Officers; most of them had been under my command before!
I'le be sworn they were Reformado Tapsters then; but pre∣thee how gots thou off?
Why as the King himself, and all the rest of the great ones; in a disguise; if you'l needs know't.
He's very cautious, Colonel, h'as kept it ever since.
That's too long 'ifaith, Cutter, prethee take one disguise now more at last, and put thy self into the habit of a Gentleman.
I'le answer no more Prethees; Is this the Mornings-draught you sent for me to?
Page 8
No, I ha' better news for ye both, than ever ye had from a good Irish hand; the truth is I have a Plot for yee, which if it take, ye Shall no more make monstrous Tales from Bruges to revive your sinking Credits in Loyal Ale-houses, nor inveigle into Taverns young Foremen of the Shop, or little beardless Blades of the Inns of Court, to drink to the Royal Family Parabolically, and with bouncing Oathes like Cannon at every Health; nor upon unlucky failing afternoons take melancholy turns in the Temple Walks, and when you meet ac∣quaintance, cry, You wonder why your Lawyer stays so long with a pox to him.
This Physick has stirr'd ill humors in the Colonel, would they were once well purg'd, and we a Drinking again lovingly toge∣ther as we were wont to do.
Nor make headless quarrels about the Reckoning time, and leave the house in confusion; nor when you go to bed produce ten several snuffs to make up one poor Pipe o' Tobacco!
Would I had one here now; I ha' n't had my morning Smoak yet, by this day!
Nor change your names and lodgings as often as a Whore: for as yet if ye liv'd like Tartars in a Cart (as I fear ye must die in one) your home could not be more uncertain. To day at Wapping, and to morrow you appear again upon Mill-bank (like a Duck that Dives at this end of the Pond, and rises unexpectedly at the other) I do not think Pythagoras his Soul e're chang'd so many dwellings as you ha' done within these two years.
Why, what then, Colonel? Soldiers must remove their Tents sometimes, Alexander the Great did it a thousand times.
Why thou shalt have it, little VVorm, for these Damn'd Pills begin to make me horrible sick, and are not like to allow of long Digressions; Thus briefly then, as befits a man in my case!
When my brother the Merchant went into Afrique, to follow his great Trade there—
How o' Devil could he follow it? why he had quite lost his memory; I knew him when he was fain to carry his own Name
Page 9
in Writing about him for fear lest he should forget it.
Oh his man Iohn, you know, did all, yet still he would go about with old Iohn, and thought if he did Go, he did his business himself; well, when he went he left his Daughter with a Portion o' five thousand pounds to my Tuition, and if she married without my consent, she was to have but a thousand of it. When he was gon two years he dy'd—
He did a little forget himself me-thinks, when he left the Estate in your hands, Collonel.
Hold your tongue, Captain Coxcomb; now the case is this; ye shall give me a thousand pounds for my interest and favour in this business, settle the rest upon her, and her children, or me and mine, if she ha' none (d'ee mark me? for I will not have one penny of the Principal pass through such glewy Fingers) upon these terms I'le marry her to one of you; Always provided though, that he whom she shall choose (for she shall have as fair a choice as can be between two such fellows) shall give me good assurances of living afterwards like a Gentleman, as befits her husband, and cast off the t'others company!
The Conditions may be admitted of, though if I have her, she'l ha' no ill bargain on't when the King comes home; but how, Colonel, if she should prove a foolish fantastical Wench, and re∣fuse to marry either of us?
Why! then she shall never ha' my consent to marry any body; and she'l be hang'd, I think, first in the Friar's Rope, ere she turn Nun.
I'l be a Carthusian an she do!
If't were not for Chastity and Obedience thou mightest be so; their t'other Vow of never carrying any mony about them, thou hast kept from thy youth upwards.
I'le have her; I'me the better Scholar; and we're both equal Soldiers, I'me sure.
Thou, Captain Bobadil? what with that Ember-week face o' thine? that Rasor o' thy Nose? thou look'st as if thou hadst never been fed since thou suck'st thy mothers milk. Thy cheeks begin to fall in∣to thy mouth, that thou mightest eat them. Why thou very Lath, with a thing cut like a face at Top, and a slit at bottom. I am a man ha' serv'd my King and Country, a person of Honor, Dogbolt, and a Colonel.
Page 10
Yes, as Priests are made now a daies, a Colonel made by thine own self. I must confess thus much o' thy good parts, thou 'rt beholding to no body but thy self for what thou art. Thou a Soldier? Did not I see thee once in a quarrel at Nine-pins behind Sodom-lane disarm'd with one o' the pins? Alas, good Cutter! there's diffe∣rence, as I take it, betwixt the clattering o' Swords and Quart-pots, the effusion of Blood and Claret-wine—
(What a Barking little Curr's this?)
The smoak o' Guns and Tobacco— nor can you, Cutter, fight the better, because you ha' beat an old Bawd or a Drawer; be∣sides, what parts hast thou? Hast thou Scholarship enough to make a Brewers Clark? Canst thou read the Bible? I'me sure thou hast not; canst thou write more than thine own name, and that in such vile Characters, that most men take 'em for Arabian Pot-hooks! Dost thou not live, Cutter, in the Chymaerian darkness of Ignorance?
Cymmerian, Captain, prethee let it be Cymmerian!
I; I know some will have it so; but by this light I always call't Chymaerian!
O brave Scholar! has the Colonel caught you in false Latin, you dunce you? you'd e'en as good stick to your Captainship; and that you may thank me for, you ingrateful Pimp you, was not I the first that ever call'd you so? and said you had serv'd stoutly in my Regiment at Newberry?
Thy Regiment? — well! leave your quarrelling, Baboons, and try your fortunes fairly; I begin to be very very sick, I'le leave you, and send in my Niece to intertain you, upon my life, if you quarrel any more, As great Soldiers as you are, I'le ha' you Cashier'd for ever out o' this Garrison o'mine, look to't.
Come Cutter, wee'd e'en better play fair play with one an∣other, than lose all to a third. Let's draw Cuts who shall accost her first when she comes in, and the t'other void the room for a little while.
Agreed! you may thank the Colonel for comming off so easily; you know well enough I dare not offend him at such a time as this!
The longest first—
Mine! Od's my life! here she is already!
Page 11
Scene 6.
I never askt their names: But I must speak to 'em now. My Uncle, Gentlemen, will wait upon you presently again, and sent me hither to desire your patience!
Patience, Madam, will be no Virtue requisite for us, whilst you are pleas'd to stay here; Ha, ha! Cutter! that lit pretty pat 'ifaith for a beginning,
Is your friend going, Sir?
Friend, Madam? — (I hope I shall be even with him pre∣sently) he's a merry fellow that your Uncle and I divert our selves withall.
What is he? pray Sir.
That's something difficult to tell you, Madam; But he has been all things. He was a Scholar once, and since a Mer∣chant, but broke the first half year; after that he serv'd a Justice o' Peace, and from thence turn'd a kind o' Sollicitor at Goldsmiths∣hall; h'as a pretty Smattering too in Poetry, and would ha' been my Lady Protectres's Poet; He writ once a Copy in praise of her Beauty, but her Highness gave him for it but an old Half-crown piece in Gold, which she had hoorded up before these troubles, and that dis∣courag'd him from any further Applications to the Court. Since that, h'as been a little Agitator for the Cavalier party, and drew in one of the 'Prentices that were hang'd lately; He's a good ingenious fellow, that's the truth on't, and a pleasant Droll when h'as got a cup o' Wine in his pate, which your Uncle and I supply him with; but for matters that concern the King neither of us trust him. Not that I can say h'as betraid any body, but he's so indigent a Varlet, that I'm afraid he would sell his Soul to Oliver for a Noble. But Madam, what a pox should we talk any more o' that Mole-catcher? (Now I'm out again— I am so us'd onely to ranting Whores,
Page 12
that an honest Gentlewoman puts me to a Non-plus!)
Why, my Uncle recommended him to me, Sir, as a Person of Quality, and of the same Condition with your self, onely that you had been a Collonel o' Foot, and he a Captain of Horse in his Majesty's Service.
You know your Uncle's Drolling humor, Madam; he thought there was no danger in the Raillerie, and that you'd quickly find out what he was; Here he comes again,
Madam, my Noble friend your Uncle has been pleas'd to ho∣nor me so far with his good Opinion, as to allow me the liberty to kiss your hands.
'Tis to tell me your friends Name, Sir, and his Quality, which, though I've seen him oft, I am yet ignorant of: I suppose him to be some honorable person, who has eminently serv'd the King in the late Wars.
'Tis a shrewd discerning Wench, she has hit me
They call him Collonel Cutter, but to deal faithfully with you, Madam, he's no more a Colonel than you'r a Major Ge∣neral.
Ha! sure I mistake the Rogue!
He never serv'd his King, not he, no more than he does his Maker; 'Tis true, h'as drunk his Health as often as any man, upon other mens charges, and he was for a little while, I think, a kind of Hector, 'till he was soundly beaten one day, and dragg'd about the room, like old Hector o' Troy about the Town.
What does this Dog mean, trow?
Page 13
Once indeed he was very low for almost a twelve-month, and had neither mony enough to hire a Barber, nor buy Sizars, and then he wore a Beard (he said) for King Charls; he's now in pretty good cloathes, but would you saw the furniture of his Chamber! marry half a Chair, an Earthen Chamberpot without an Ear, and the bottom of an Ink-horn for a Candle-stick, the rest is broken foul Tobacco-pipes, and a dozen o' Gally-pots with Sawfe in 'em.
Was there ever such a cursed Villain!
H'as been a known Cheat about the Town these twenty years.
What does my Uncle mean to keep him company, if he be such a one?
Why he's infatuated, I think! I ha' warn'd him on't a thousand times; he has some wit (to give the devil his due) and that 'tis makes us endure him, but however I'd advise your Uncle to be a a little more cautious how he talks before him o' State matters, for he's shrewdly wrong'd if he be n't Cromwel's Agent for all the Ta∣verns between Kings-street and the Devil at Temple-bar, indeed he's a kind o' Resident in 'em.
Flesh and blood can bear no longer— VVorm, you'r a stinking, lying, perjur'd, damn'd Villain; and if I do not bring you, Madam, his Nose and both his Ears, and lay 'em at your feet here before night, may the Pillory and the Pox take mine▪ till then, suspend your judgment.
Nay, you'r both even; just such an excellent Character did he bestow on you; Why, thou vile Wretch,
Go to the Stews, the Gaol, and there make love, Thou'lt find none there but such as will scorn thee!Why here's brave work i'faith! I ha' carri'd it swimmingly, I'le e'en go steal away and drink a dozen before I venture to think one thought o' the business.
Page 14
Act. 2.
Scene 1.
I would not for five hundred pounds but ha' corrupted my Cousin Lucia's Maid; and yet it costs me nothing but Sack-possets, and Wine, and Sugar when her Mistris is a bed, and tawd'ry Ribbonds, or fine Trimm'd Gloves sometimes, and once I think a pair of Counterfeit Rubie Pendants That cost me half a Crown. The poor Wench loves Dy'd Glass like any Indian, for a Diamond Bob I'd have her Maden∣head if I were a Man and she a Maid. If her Mistris did but talk in her sleep sometimes o' my conscience she'd sit up all night and watch her, onely to tell me in the morning what she said; 'Tis the prettiest diligent Wretch in her Calling, now she has undertaken't.
These are your grave Maids that study Romances, and will be all Mandanas and Cassandras, and never spit but by the Rules of Ho∣nor; Oh, here she comes, I hope, with fresh intelligence from the Foes Rendevouz.
Scene 2.
Ha, ha, ha! for the love of goodness hold me, or I shall fall
Page 15
down with laughing, ha, ha, ha! 'Tis the best humor— no— I can't tell it you for laughing— ha, ha, ha! the prettiest sport, ha, ha, ha!
Why (hee, hei, ha!) My Mistris sits by her Servant in a long Veil that covers her from Top to Toe, and says not one word to him, because of the Oath you know that the old man forc'd his son to take after your Father had forbid him the house, and he talks half an hour, like an Ass as he is, all alone, and looks upon her hand all the while, and kisses it, But that which makes me die with laugh∣ing at the conceit (ha, ha, ha!) is, that when he asks her any thing, she goes to the Table, and writes her answer, you never saw such an innocent Puppet-play!
Dear Iane (kiss me, Iane,) how shall I do to see 'em?
Why, Madam, I'l go look the key of my Mistris Closet above, that looks into her Chamber, where you may see all, and not be seen.
Why that's as good as the trick o' the Veil; do, dear Iane, quickly, 'twill make us excellent sport at night, and we'l fuddle our Noses together, shall we, dear Iane?
I, dear Madam! I'l go seek out the key.
'Tis strange, if this trick o' my Cousins should beget no trick o' mine, That would be pittiful dul doings.
Scene 3.
Here comes another of her Servants; a young, rich, fanta∣stical Fop, that would be a Wit, and has got a new way of being so; he scorns to speak any thing that's common, and finds out some im∣pertinent similitude for every thing, The Devil I think can't find out one for him. This Coxcomb has so little Brains too, as to make me the Confident of his Amours, I'le thank him for his Confidence ere I ha' done with him.
Whofe here? O Madam! is your father out of his Meta∣phorical Grave yet? you understand my meaning, my dear Confi∣dent? you'r a Wit!
Like what, Mr. Puny?
Page 16
Why— like—me!
That's right your way, Mr. Puny, its an odd similitude.
But where's your father little Queen o' Diamonds? is he ex∣tant? I long like a Woman big with Twins to speak with him!
You can't now possibly, There was never any Creature so sick with a disease as he is with Physick, to day, the Doctor and the 'Po∣thecarie's with him; and will let no body come in. But, Mr. Puny, I have words o' comfort for you!
What, my dear Quenn o' Sheba! and I have Ophir for thee if thou hast.
Why your Rival is forbid our house, and has sworn to his father never to see or hear your Mistris more.
I knew that yesterday as well as I knew my Credo, but I'm the very Jew of Malta if she did not use me since that, worse than I'de use a rotten Apple.
Why that can't be, Brother Wit, why that were uncivilly done of her!
O hang her, Queen of Fairies, (I'm all for Queens to day I think) she cares much for that; No, that Assyrian Crocodile Truman is still swimming in her praecordiums, but I'le so ferret him out, I'l beat him as a Bloomsbury Whore beats Hemp; I'l spoil his Grave Dominical Postures; I'l make him sneak, and look like a door off the hinges.
That's hard! but he deserves it truly, if he strive to An∣nihilate.
Why well said, Sister Wit, now thou speak'st oddly too!
Well, without wit or foolery, Mr. Puny, what will you give me, if this night, this very improbable night, I make you Marry my Cousin Lucia?
Thou talk'st like Medusa's head, thou astonishest me.
Well, in plain language as befits a Bargain; there's Pen and Inck in the next Chamber, give but a Bill under your hand to pay me five hundred pounds in Gold (upon forfeiture of a thousand if you fail) within an hour after the business is done, and I'l be bound Body for Body my Cousin Lucia shall be your Wife this night; if I deceive you, your Bond will do you no hurt, if, I do not, consider a little before-hand, whether the Work deserves the Reward, and do as you think fit.
There shall be no more considering than in a Hasty Pudding;
Page 17
I'l write it an' you will, in Short-hand, to dispatch immediately, and presently go put five hundred Mari-golds in a purse for you, Come away like an Arrow out of a Scythian Bow.
I'l do your business for you, I'l warrant you; Allons Mon-Cher.
Scene 4.
Now I ha' thee at the place, where thou affronted'st me, here will I cut thy throat.
You'l be hang'd first.
No by this light.
You'l be hang'd after then.
Not so neither; for I'l hew thee into so many morsels, that the Crowner shall not be able to give his Verdict whether 'twas the Body of a Man or of a Beast, as thou art. Thou shalt be mince-meat, Worm, within this hour.
He was a Coward once, nor have I ever heard one syllable since of his Reformation, he shall not daunt me.
Come on; I'l send thee presently to Erebus
Have at you, Cutter, an' thou hadst as many lives as are in Plutarch, I'd make an end of e'm all.
Come on, Miscreant.
Do, do! strike an' thou dar'st.
Coward, I'l give thee the advantage of the first push, Coward.
I scorn to take any thing o' thee, Jew.
If thou dar'st not strike first, thou submitt'ft, and I give thee thy life.
Remember, Cutter, you were treacherous first to me, and therefore must begin. Come, pox upon't, this quarrel will cost us quarts o' Wine a piece before the Treaty o' Peace be ended.
Here's company coming in; I'l hear o' no Treaties, Worm, we'l fight it out.
Page 18
Scene 5.
Five hundred neat Gentlemen-like twenty-shilling
Why how now Panims? fighting like two Sea-fish in the Map? Why how now my little Gallimaufry, my Oleopodrido of Arts and Arms; Hold the feirce Gudgings!
'Ods my life, Puny, let's go in again; that's the onely way to part 'em.
Do, do! kill one another and be hang'd like Ropes of Onyons.
At your command? no, Puny! I'le be forc'd by no man; put up, VVorm; we'l fight for no man's pleasure but our own.
Agreed! I won't make sport with murdering any man, an' he were a Turk.
Why now ye speak like the Pacifique Sea; we'l to the King's Poleanon, and drink all into Pylados again; we'l drink up a whole Vessel there to Redintegration, and that so big, that the Tun of Heidelberg shall seem but a Barel of Pickled Oisters to't; mean time, thou pretty little Smith o' my good fortune, beat hard upon the An∣vil of your Plot, I'l go and provide the Spankers.
Your Cousin, Mrs. Aurelia, has abus'd us most irreverently.
Why what's the matter?
Your father recommended us two as Suters to her.
And she'd ha' none of you? What a foolish Girl 'tis, to stand in her own light so?
Nay, that's not all, but she us'd us worse than if we'd been the veriest Rogues upon the face of the whole Earth.
That's a little thought too much, but 'twas safer erring o' that hand.
I, we'r like to get much, I see, by complaining to you.
Ha, ha, ha! Here's the key o' the Closet, go up softly, Ma∣dam, ha, ha, ha! and make no noise, dear Madam, I must be gone.
Page 19
Why does this little Foppitee laugh always? 'tis such a Ninny that she betrays her Mistris, and thinks she does no hurt at all, no, not she; well, wretched Lovers, come along with me now, (but softly upon your lives, as you would steal to a Mistris through her Mothers Chamber) and I'l shew you this severe Penelope, lockt up alone in a Chamber vvith your Rival.
As softly as Snovv falls.
Or Vapors rise.
What are you Punish too vvith your Similitudes? Mum— not a vvord— pull off your shoes at bottom of the stairs, and follovv me.
Scene 6.
Scene 7.
Page 20
Thou hast a Bawdy heart I'le warrant thee.
Hold your peace, Coxcomb.
He's extreme sick, and thinks he shall die,
What can this mean? and
Ah, Lord! my poor Master! Mrs. Aurelia, Mrs. Aurelia.
Here, what's the business?
Oh Lord! the saddest accident.
For the love of Heaven speak quickly.
I cannot speak for weeping; my poor Master's poison'd.
Poison'd? how prethee, and by whom?
Why by the strangest Accident, Mistris.
The Doctor prescrib'd one what dee' call it with a hard name, and that careless Rogue the 'Pothecaries man (mistaking one Glass for another that stood by it) put in another what dee' call it, that is a mor∣tal poison.
Oh then 'tis plain, this was the Plot they talk'd of; ye heard, Gentlemen, what they said; pray follow me and bear witness.
Undoubtedly they had a hand in't; we shall be brought to swear against them, Worm.
I'l swear what I heard, and what I heard not but I'l hang 'em. I see I shall be revenged o' that proud Tit; but it grieves me for the Colonel.
Page 21
Scene 8.
Oh! I ha' vomited out all my guts, and all my entrails—
Oh my dear Father!
I'm going, daughter— ha' ye sent the pocky Doctor and the plaguy 'Pothecary to a Justice o' Peace to be examin'd?
Yes, Sir, your Worship's Steward and the Constable are gone with 'em; does your Worship think they did it out o' malice, and not by a mistake? if I had thought they did, I'd a hang'd 'em presently, that you might ha' seen it done before you dy'd.
Huh, huh, huh! I think that Rogue the Doctor did it, be∣cause I beat him t'other day in our drinking! huh, huh, huh!
No, Sir, (O my dear father) no, Sir, you little think who were the Contrivers of your murder, e'en my Cousin Luce and her Gallant—Oh Lord— 'tis discover'd by a miraculous providence— they'r both together in her Chamber now, and there we overheard 'em as it pleas'd— these two Gentlemen heard 'em as well as I—
Can they be such Monsters? Oh! I'm as hot as Lucifer— Oh—Oh—! what did you hear e'm say?— Oh my stomach!
Why that they had a Plot—
And that the Doctor and 'Pothecary had done it very well.
I and your Niece ask'd if he thought the Poison were strong enough.
There never was such an Impudence!
How murder will out! I always thought, fellow Ralph, your Mistris Lucia was naught with that young smooth-fac'd Varlet; do you remember, Ralph, what I told you in the Butteries once?
Here she comes! O Impudence!
Oh! Oh! Oh!— go all aside a little, and let me speak with her alone. Come hither, Niece— Oh! Oh—! you see by what accident 'thas pleas'd— huh— huh— huh— to take away your loving Uncle, Niece! huh:—
I see't, Sir, with that grief which your misfortune and mine in the loss of you does require.
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There's a devil for you; but, Captain,
No, but I love to strike home when, I do a business, I'm for through-stich; I'm through pac'd, what a pox should a man stand mincing?
And who (alas) knows how `Heaven may dispose of you? be∣fore it grow too late (after your blessing) I humbly beg one Boon up∣on my knees.
What is't (rise up Niece) Oh— I can deny you nothing at this time sure!
In a better world! and all your dearest wishes of happiness for those whom ye love most, and leave behind you here!
You ha' deserv'd so well o' me Niece, that 'tis impossible to deny you any thing; where's gentle Mr. Truman?
Oh— I'm very sick— pray bring him in.
Was there ever such a young dissembling Witch?
Will▪ Ralph, is Ieremy there too? be ready when I speak to you.
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Our prayers are heard, 'tis as we wish'd, dear Lucia, Oh this blest hour!
Take him and carry him up to the Green Chamber— Oh my belly— lock him in sure there, till you see what becomes of me; if I do die, he and his Mistris shall have but an ill Match of it at Tyburn. Oh my Guts— lock up Luce too in her Chamber.
What do ye mean, Gentlemen? are ye mad?
We mean to lock you up safe, Sir, for a great Jewel as you are!
Pray hear me all.
Away with 'em.
How do you, Sir? I hope you may o're-come it, your Na∣tures strong, Sir.
No, 'tis impossible; and yet I find a little ease, but 'tis but a flash— Aurelia— Oh there it wrings me again— fetch me the Cordial-glass in the Cabinet window, and the little Prayer-book; I would fain repent, but it comes so hardly— I am very unfit to die, if it would please Heaven— so, set down the Glass— there— give me—
The Prayer-book, Sir, 's all mouldy, I must wipe it first.
Lay it down too— so— it begins t'asswage a little— there lay down the Book; 'twill but trouble my Brains now I'm a dying.
Here's the Widow, Sir, without, and Mrs. Tabitha her daughter, they have heard o' your misfortune, and ha' brought Mr. Knock-down to comfort you.
How? everlasting Knock-down! will they trouble a Man thus when he's a dying? Sirrah! Blockhead! let in Ioseph Knock-down, and I'l send thee to Heaven afore me; I have but an hour or two to live perhaps, and that's not enough for him I'm sure to preach in!
Shall Mrs. Barebottle come in, Sir?
That's a She Knock-down too; well, let her come in— huh! huh! huh! I must bear all things patiently now; but Sirrah, Rogue! take heed o' Ioseph Knock-down, thou shalt not live with ears if Ioseph Knock-down enter.
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How de' you Neighbour Colonel? how is't? take comfort.
Cut off in the flower o' my age, Widow.
Why, Man's life is but a Flower, Mr. Iolly, and the Flower withers, and Man withers, as Mr. Knock-down observed last Sabbath-day at Evening Exercise; But, Neighbour, you'r past the Flower, you'r grown old as well as I—
I'the very flower; that damn'd Quack-salver—
I never liked a Doctor with a Red Nose; my Husband was wont to say— how do you, Mrs. Aurelia? comfort your self, we must all die sooner or later; to day here, to morrow gone.
Oh the torture of such a tongue! would I were dead already, and this my Funeral Sermon.
Alas poor man! his tongue I warrant yee is hot as passes; you have a better memory than I, Tabitha, tell him what Mr. Knock-down said was a Saints duty in tormenting sicknesses, now Poison's a great tormentor.
Oh! Oh!— this additional Poison will certainly make an end of me!
Why seek for spiritual Incomes, Mr. Colonel; I'l tell you what my Husband Barebottle was wont to observe (and he was a Colonel too) he never sought for Incomes but he had some Blessing followed immediately; once he sought for em in Hartfordshire, and the next day he took as many Horses and Arms in the Country as serv'd to raise three Troops; another time he sought for 'em in Bucklersbury, and three days after a friend of his, that he owed five hundred pounds too, was hang'd for a Malignant, and the Debt for∣given him by the Parliament; a third time he sought for 'em in Hart∣fordshire—
No, Mother, 'twas in VVorcester-shire, forsooth.
I, Child, it was indeed in VVorcester-shire; and within two months after the Dean of VVorcester's Estate fell to him.
He sought for 'em once out o' my Estate too, I thank him; Oh my head!
Why truly, Neighbour Colonel, he had that but for his Penny, and would have had but a hard Bargain of it, if he had not by
Page 25
a friends means of the Councel hook'd in two thousand pounds of his Arrears.
For shame let's relieve him; Colonel, you said you had a mind to settle some affairs of your Estate with me, and Captain Worm here.
I'l leave you then for a while, pray send for me, Neighbor, when you have a mind to't Heaven strengthen you; come, Tabitha.
Aurelia, go out with them, and leave us three together for half an hour.
What d' you mean, Colonel? you will not doat, I hope, now you'r dying? drink I know not what there, made by a Doctor and a 'Pothecary? Drink a cup o' Sack, Man; healing Sack; you'l find your old Antidote best.
H'as reason, Colonel, it agrees best with your nature; 'tis good to recover your strength—as for the danger, that's past, I'm confident, already.
Dost thou think so, honest Cutter? fetch him a Bottle o' Sack, Will, for that news; I'le drink a little my self, one little Beer∣glass.
Poor creature! he would try all ways to live!
Why if I do die, Cutter, a Glass o' Sack will do me no hurt I hope; I do not intend to die the Whining way, like a Girl that's afraid to lead Apes in Hell— So,
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Why this is very cheerly! pray let's ha' the Catch that we made t' other night against the Doctor.
Ile venture once more what e're come on't, here's a Health to the Royal Travailer, and so Finis Coronat.
help me into my Bed; rest you merry, Gentlemen.
Nay, we'l go in with him, Captain, he shall not die this bout.
It's pity but he should, he dos't so bravely; come along then, kiss me, Cutter; is not this better than quarrelling?
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Act 3.
Scene 1.
'TIs true, Aurelia, the Story they all agree in; 'twas no∣thing but a simple Plot o' the two Lovers to put me in fear o' death, in hope to work then upon my good Nature, or my Conscience, and Quack conspired with them out o' revenge; 'Twas a cursed Rogue though to give me such an unmerciful Dose of Scam∣mony! It might ha' prov'd but an ill jest; but however, I will not be a loser by the business, ere I ha' done with't.
Me-thinks there might be something extracted out of it.
Why so there shall; I'le pretend, Aurelia, to be still de∣sperately sick, and that I was really poison'd, no man will blame me after that, for whatsoever I do with my Niece. But that's not all, I will be mightily troubled in Conscience, send for the Widow, and be converted by her, that will win her heart, joyn'd with the hopes of my swallowing Lucia's portion.
For that point I'l assist you, Sir, Assure her that my Cousin Lucia is married privately this after-noon to Mr. Puny.
I would she were, Wench, (for thine and my sake) her Portion would be forfeited then indeed, and she would ha' no great need of't, for that Fop's very rich.
Well, Sir, I'l bring sufficient proofs of that, to satisfie the Widow, and that's all you require; be pleas'd to let the secret of the business rest with me yet a while, to morrow you shall know't. But for my own part, Sir, if I were in your place, I'd rather patiently lose my Estate for ever, than take't again with her.
Oh! hold your self contented, good frank-hearted Aurelia; would I were to marry such a one every week these two years: see how we differ now?
Bless us! what humming and hawing will be i' this house! what preaching, and houling, and fasting, and eating among the Saints! Their first pious work will be to banish Fletcher and Ben
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Iohnson out o'the Parlour, and bring in their rooms Martin Mar-Prelate, and Posies of Holy Hony-suckles, and a Sawf-box for a Wounded Conscience, and a Bundle of Grapes from Canaan. I cann't abide 'em; but I'l break my sister Tabitha's heart within a month one way or other. But, Sir, suppose the King should come in again, (as I hope he will for all these Villains) and you have your own again o' course, you'd be very proud of a Soap-boylers Widow then in Hide-park, Sir.
Oh! then the Bishops will come in too, and she'l away to New-England; well, this does not do my business; I'l about it, and send for her.
And I'l about mine; Ralph, did you speak to Mr. Puny to meet me an hour hence at the back-dore in the Garden? he must not know the estate the house is in yet.
Yes, forsooth, he bad me tell you, he'd no more fail you than the Sun fails Barnaby-day, I know not what he means by't, but he charg'd me to tell you so, and he would bring (forsooth) his Re∣giment of five hundred. He's a mad man, I think.
Well, did you speak to Mr. Soaker to stay within too, the little Deacon that uses to drink with Will and you?
Yes, forsooth, he's in the Buttery.
Pray Heaven he don't forget my Instructions there! But first I have a little trick for my Lovers to begin withall, they shall ha' twenty more before I ha' done with 'em.
Scene 2.
The Veil of this mistake will soon be cast away, I would I could remove Lucia's as easily, and see her face again, as fair, as shortly our Innocence will appear.
But if my angry father come to know our late Intelligence in this unlucky business, though we ha' fulfill'd the Letter of his Will, that which can satisfie a Lover's Conscience, will hardly do so to an old man's Passion; Ye Heavenly Powers, or take away my life, or give me quickly that for which I onely am content to keep it.
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Scene 3.
By my Maid's means I have gotten Keys both of my
Reads.own Chamber and yours; we may escape if you please; but that I fear would ruine you; We lie both now in the same house, a good fortune that is not like to continue; since I have the engagement of your faith, I account my self your Wife already, and shall put my honor into your hands; about Midnight I shall steal to you; If I were to speak this I should blush, but I know whom I trust.Yours, Lucia.
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Scene 4.
Pray Heaven, I ha'nt made my foolish Wit stay for me; if he talk with others of the house before me, I'm un∣done. Stay, have I my Paper ready? Oh! that's
Scene 5.
'Tis almost four o' clock and that's the precious hour.
My little Heliogabalus, here I am, Praesto!
You'r always calling me names, Mr. Puny, that's unkindly done to one that's labouring for you, as I am.
I ha' made more haste hither than a Parson does to a Living o' three hundred and fifty pounds a year.
Puny, you'r not a man o' business I see, that's not the style o' business; Well, I ha' done, I think, the work for you, 'tis as odd a Plot as ever you heard.
I like it better, I love odd things.
Why thus then, you know Mr. Truman took an Oath to his father never to see my Cousin more without his leave.
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Pish, do I know that a Lawyer loves to take mony in Michaelmas Term?
A pies upon you: well, my father has made Lucy swear too never to see Truman without his consent.
Good, there will be a good Bo-peep love.
For all this, thy'r resolv'd to marry this after-noon, (nay don't interrupt me with your Fopperies, or I'l be gon) and to save their Oathes (like cunning Caluists, as all Lovers are) they'l be married in a dark room (do you mark me?) the Minister, Mr. Soaker, is to marry them without Book; and because thei'r bound not to speak to one another (for that I forgat to tell you) they'r to signifie their consent, when he asks 'em, Will you such a one— by reve∣rences, and giving their hands; you never heard of such a humor, but their both mad—
Ha! ha! ha! Rare, as Fantastical as a Whirl-gig— but how come you to know all this, my little pretty Witch of Lanca∣shire?
Why that I'me coming to; her Maid you must know is my Pensioner, and betrays all Counsels; And to confirm all this to you, here's her last Letter to Truman about the business, which my Intelligencer ha's Deliver'd to me instead of him, you know her hand, Read it all over to your self.
Ile swear by her Foot, this is her Hand,— hum— my Uncles sick, and no Body will be at this
Now he knows nothing o' the time, for that he should ha' known by this Letter; and you conceive my design, I hope? you'r not a Wit for nothing.
My dear Pythagorean, that I should go in and Marry her instead of him?
Right! thou'st a shrewd reach.
But where's old Soaker all this while?
Why, I ha' told all this to him, only naming you in all things instead of Truman; and that 'twas my Contrivance all for my
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Cosens and your Sake; he's within at a Call, Ile send for him; whose there? Mary? call hither Mr. Soaker; I ha' given him five Pounds, and for so much more he'l Marry you to another to morrow, if you will.
I adore thee Queen Solomon; I had rather be Marri'd by such a Plot as this, than be Nephew to Prester Iohn— Ile mak't a thousand Spankers.
Oh come 'tis time Mr. Soaker; as soon as you ha' done leave the Marri'd couple together, Ile lock this Door upon you, go out at the to'ther, where shee'l come in to you.
'Tis as dark as the Devil's conscience; but the best is, the Parson ha's a good Fieri Facies, like a Holiday, that will give some Light.
No! there's Light enough to keep you from Stumbling within. Oh! I forgot to tell you, break a piece of Gold, and give her half, for a proof of the— do you understand me?
'Tis well thought on; but Domine Doctoribus, can you say the Service without Book are you sure?
I warrant you Sir; can you Lye with her without Book afterwards?
Hee's a Wit too by Iuno; all are Wits that have a finger in this Venison pasty.
Shee'l come, immediately, go in; do not stay above half an hour, Mr. Puny, my Cozen will be mist else, and all spoil'd.
Ile warrant you, let's in; dear Learning lead the way.
So, all's sure this way; Ile be with you straight.
Scene 6.
So, now the Widdow's gone, I may breathe a little; I be∣lieve really that true Devotion is a great Pleasure, but 'tis a damn'd constraint and drudgery me-thinks, this Dissimulation of it. I
Page 33
wonder how the new Saints can endure it, to be always at the work, Day and Night Acting; But great Gain makes every thing seem easie; And they have, I suppose, good Lusty Recreations in pri∣vate. She's gone, the Little Holy thing, as proud as Lucifer, with the Imagination of having been the Chosen Instrument of my Con∣version from Popery, Prelacy, and Cavalerism, she's gone to bragg of't to Ioseph Knock-down, and bring him to Confirm me. But Cutter, thine was the best Humor that ever was begot in a Rogues Noddle, to be Converted in an instant, the Inspiration way, by my example! It may hap to get thee Tabitha.
Nay, and I hit just pat upon her way, for though the Mother be a kind of Brownist, (I know not what the Devil she is indeed) yet Tabitha is o' the Fifth Monarchy Faith, and was wont to go every Sunday a-foot over the Bridge to hear Mr. Feak, when he was Prisoner in Lambeth house, she has had a Vision too her self of Horns, and strange things.
Pish! Cutter, for the way that's not material, so there be but enough of Nonsense and Hypocrisie; But Cutter, you must re∣form your Habit too, a little; Off with that Sword and Buff and greasie Plume o' Ribbons in your Hat. They'l be back here pre∣sently, do't quickly.
Ile be chang'd in an instant, like a Scene, and then Ile fetch 'em to you.
Scene 7.
I, there goes one of his Swaggerers; I could ha' Swagger'd with him once— Oh! Colonel, you'r finely Poison'd, are you not? would I had the Poisoning o' you— where's my Son Dick? what ha' you done with him?
Mr. Truman.—
True me no more than I true you— come— Colonel you'r but a Swaggering— Ile ha' the Law to Swagger with you, that I will.
First leave your Raging; though you should rage like Ta∣merlain at the Bull, 'twould do no good here.
Do you call me names too? Ile have an Action o' Scan∣dalum.
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Well Colonel, since you provoke me, the Protector shall know what you are, and what you would have had me done for the King in the time of the last rising.
Mr. Truman, I took you for a Person of Honour, and a Friend to his Majesty; I little thought to hear you speak of betraying a Gentleman to the Protector.
Betraying? no Sir, I scorn it as much as you, but Ile let him know what you are, and so forth, an' you keep my Son from me.
Mr. Truman, if you'l but hear me patiently, I shall propose a thing that will, I hope, be good and acceptable both to your Son and you.
Say you so Sir? well; but I wo'nt be call'd Tamerlain.
My Niece, not only by her wicked design to Poison me, but by Marrying her self without my consent this day to Puny, has (as you know very well, for you were a witness Sir to my Brother's will) lost all the right she had to a plentifull Portion. Aurelia shall have that and my Estate, (which now within few days I shall reco∣ver) after my Death; she's not I think Unhandsome, and all that know her will confess she wants no Wit; with these Qualities, and this Fortune, if your Son like her, (for though h'as injur'd me, Sir, I forget that, and attribute it only to the Enchantments of my Niece) I do so well approve both of his Birth and Parts, and of that Fortune, which you I think will please to make him, that I should be extremely glad of the Alliance.
Good Colonel, you were always a kind Neighbour and loving Friend to our Family, and so were we to you, and had re∣spects for you; you know I would have had Dick marry your Niece, till you declar'd he should ha' no Portion with her.
For that I had a particular reason, Sir; your Son's above in my House, shall I call him, Sir, that we may know his mind? I would not have him forc'd.
Pray send for him good Colonel; forc'd? no, Ile make him do't, Ile warrant you. Boys must not be their own choosers, Colonel, they must not 'ifaith, they have their Sympathies and Fiddle-come-saddles in their Brain, and know not what they would ha' themselves.
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Scene 8.
Why how now Lucia? how come you from your Cham∣ber?
I hope you did not mean me a Prisoner, Sir, since now you'r satisfy'd sufficiently that you'r not Poison'd?
I am not Dead, that's true. But I may thank Heaven, and a strong Constitution for't; you did your weak endeavours; however, for the honour of our Family, and for your Father's sake, Ile speak no more o' that, but I could wish, for the security of my Life here∣after, that you would go home to your Husband, for they say you'r marri'd Niece this day without my knowledge— Nay, — I'm content,— go home to him when you please, you shall ha' your thou∣sand Pounds.
Heark you, Colonel, she should not have a groat of e'em, not a groat; she can't recover't by Law, I know the Will.
I marry'd Sir? 'tis the first news I've heard of't.
Scene 9.
Nay, leave your pretty Jesuitical Love-tricks to salve an Oath; Mr. Truman, you may let your Son see her now.
I Dick you may see her as much as you please; she's marri'd.
Marri'd?
I marri'd, so I say, Marri'd this after-noon to Mr. Puny.
What do they mean?
And Dick I ha' got a Wife too for you, you shall ha' pretty Mrs. Aurelia.
Lucia marri'd?
Her Father and I are agreed of all things; Heark you Dick, she has a brave Fortune now.
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Marri'd to Puny?
You shall have her presently.
This after-noon?
Come Dick; there's a Wife for you Dick.
I wo'nt marry, Sir.
What do you say Sir?
I wo' not marry Sir.
Get you out o' my sight you Rebel.
Nay, good Mr. Truman.
Ile ne're acknowledge him for my Son again; I tell you Colonel, he's always thus with his wo'nots and his Cannots.
Scene 10.
We ha' made short work on't; t'was a brave quick Parso∣nides; The little Skittish Philly got away from me I know not how, like an Eele out of a Basket.
Give him a little time Mr. Truman, he's troubl'd yet at my Nieces marriage, t'will over quickly.
Give my Son time, Mr. Iolly? marry come up—
Scene 11.
What ha' you done already? you'r a sweet Husband in∣deed.
Oh! my little Pimp of honour! here, here's the five hun∣dred Marigolds; hold thy hand Dido— yonders my VVife, by Satan; how a Devil did that little Mephistophilus get hither before me?
To her Puny; never conceal the mystery any longer, 'tis too good a Jest to be kept close.
For your sake I will then, Colonel; Come prethee, Dick, be cheerfull.—
I beseech you,— Sir—
Look you there Colonel, now he should do what I
Page 37
would have him, now hee's a beseeching— 'tis the proudest stub∣born'st Coxcomb—
And now my noble Uncle— nay, never
What would this rude fellow have?
I am drown'd in wonder!
'Twas I, my dear Philoclea, that marri'd thee e'en row in the dark room, like an amorous Cat; you may remember the Da∣mask Bed by a better Token of Two than a bow'd Philip and Mary.
She's angry yet to have mistook her Man. 'Tis true, Sir, all that Mr. Puny says, I mean for
True, Cousin, then I see 'tis some conspiracy t'ensnare my Honor and my Innocence.
The Parson, Mr. Soaker, that married 'em is still within.
He's i'th' Buttery, shall I call him, Sir?
I, quickly.
'Tis the sight of me, no doubt, confounds her with a shame to confess any thing; It seems that sudden fit of raging lust, that brought her to my Chamber, could not rest till it was satisfi'd, it seems I know not what.
Mr. Soaker, did you marry my Niece this after-noon to Mr. Puny in the Matted Chamber?
Yes, Sir, I hope your Worship wo'nt be angry, Marriage, your Worship knows, is honorable.
Hast thou no conscience neither?
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Scene 12.
Niece, go in a little, I'l come t' you presently and examine this matter further; Mr. Puny, lead in your wife for shame.
She's as humerous as a Bel-rope; she need not be so chole∣rique, I'm sure I behav'd my self like Propria quae maribus.
Come in with me, Mr. Puny, I'l teach you how you shall handle her.
Mr. Truman, pray take your son home, and see how you can work upon him there; speak fairly to him.
Speak fairly to my son? I'l see him buried first.
I mean perswade him—
Oh! that's another matter; I will perswade him, Colo∣nel, but if ever I speak fair to him till he mends his manners— Come along with me, Jack-sawce, come home.
I Sir, any whither.
What's the matter, brother Colonel, are there any broils here?
Why, Sister, my Niece has married without my consent, and so it pleases, it e'en pleases Heaven to bestow her Estate upon me.
Why, brother, there's a Blessing now already; If you had been a wicked Cavalier still she'd ha' done her duty, I war∣rant you, and defrauded you of the whole Estate; my brother Cut∣ter here is grown the Heavenliest man o'the sudden, 'tis his work.
Sister Barebottle, I must not be called Cutter any more, that is a name of Cavalero darkness, the Devil was a Cutter from the beginning, my name is now Abednego, I had a Vision which whis∣per'd to me through a Key-hole, Go call thy self Abednego.
The wonderful Vocation of some Vessels!
It is a name that signifies Fiery Furnaces, and Tribulation, and Martyrdom, I know I am to suffer for the Truth.
Not as to death, Brother, if it be his will.
As to death, Sister, but I shall gloriously return.
What, Brother, after death? that were miraculous.
Page 39
Why the wonder of it is, that it is to be miraculous.
But Miracles are ceas'd, Brother, in this wicked Age of Cavalerism.
They are not ceas'd, Brother, nor shall they cease till the Monarchy be establish'd.
I say again I am to return, and to return upon a Purple Droma∣dary, which signifies Magistracy, with an Ax in my hand that is called Reformation, and I am to strike with that Ax upon the Gate of Westminster-hall, and cry, Down Babylon, and the Building called Westminster-hall is to run away and cast it self into the Ri∣ver, and then Major General Harrison is to come in Green sleeves from the North upon a Sky-colour'd Mule, which signifies heavenly Instruction.
Oh the Father! he's as full of Mysteries as an Egg is full of meat.
And he is to have a Trumpet in his mouth as big as a Steeple, and at the sounding of that Trumpet all the Churches in London are to fall down.
O strange, what times shall we see here in poor England!
And then Venner shall march up to us from the West in the figure of a Wave of the Sea, holding in his hand a Ship that shall be call'd the Ark of the Reform'd.
But when must this be, Brother Abednego?
Why all these things are to be when the Cat of the North has o're-come the Lion of the South, and when the Mouse of the West has slain the Elephant of the East. I do hear a silent Voice within me, that bids me rise up presently and declare these things to the Congregation of the Lovely in Coleman-street. Tabitha, Ta∣bitha, Tabitha, I call thee thrice, come along with me, Tabitha.
There was something of this, as I remember, in my last Vi∣sion of Horns the other day. Holy man! I follow thee; farewell, forsooth, Mother, till anon.
Come, let's go in too, Sister.
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Act 4.
Scene 1.
Scene 2.
Forbear, Lucia, for I have made a second Oath, which I shall keep, I hope, with lesser trouble, never to see thy face more.
I; 'twas a good one then.
Has one day spoil'd it?
O yes, more than a hundred years of time, made as much more by sorrow, and by sickness, could e're have done.
Page 41
Page 42
Scene 3.
Scene 4.
He's there, Sir, pray let him now resolve you positively what he means to do.
Page 43
I wil not be troubled, Colonel, with his meanings, if he do not marry her this very evening (for I'le ha' none of his Flim-flams and his May-be's) I'l send for my son Tom from St. Iohn's College (he's a pretty Scholar I can tell you, Colonel, I have heard him syllogize it with Mr. Soaker in Mood and Figure) and settle my Estate upon him with her; if he have his Meanings too▪ and his Sympathies, I'l disinherit 'em both, and marry the Maid my self, if she can like me, I have one Tooth yet left, Colonel, and that's a Colt's one.
I warrant you; Dick, I'l ha' you marry Mrs. Aurelia to night.
To night? the warning's short, Sir, and it may be—
Why look you, Colonel, he's at's old look, he's at's May-bees again.
I know not, Sir—
I, and his Know-nots, you shall have him at his Wo' nots presently; Sirra— I will have you know, Sir—
Nay, good Mr. Truman— you know not yet what answer he intends to make you.
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Be pleas'd, Sir, to consider—
Look you, Sir, I must consider now, he upbraids his father with the want of consideration, like a Varlet as he is.
I beseech you, Mr. Truman, have but a little patience— Your father, Sir, desires to know—
I do not desire him, Colonel, nor never will desire him, I command him upon the duty of a Child—
Whether you can dispose your self to love and marry my daughter Aurelia, and if you can, for several reasons we desire it may be presently consummated.
Ha! what dee' you say, Sir?
This old testy Fool is angry, I think, to have no more occa∣sion given him of being so.
I shall obey you, Sir.
You speak, Sir, like a vertuous Gentleman, the same obe∣dience and resignation, to a father's will, I found in my Aurelia, and where two such persons meet, the issue cannot chuse but be successful.
Ah Dick, my son Dick, he was always the best natur'd Boy— he was like his father in that— he makes me weep with tenderness, like an old fool as I am— Thou shalt have all my Estate, Dick, I'l put my self to a pension rather than thou shalt want— go spruse up thy self a little presently, thou art not merry 'Ifaith, Dick, prethee be merry, Dick, and fetch fine Mrs. Aurelia presently to the little Church behind the Colonel's Garden, Mr. Soaker shall be there immediately and wait for you at the Porch (we'l have it instantly, Colonel, done, lest the young fool should relapse) come, dear Dick, let's go cheerily on with the business.
What have I said? what am I doing? the best is, it is no matter what I say or do.
I'l see Aurelia shall be ready, and all things on my part within this half hour.
Good, honest, noble Colonel, let me shake you by the hand. Come, dear Dick, we lose time.
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Scene 5. Enter Cutter, Tabitha, a Boy.
And the Vision told me, sister Tabitha, that this same day, the first of the seventh month, in the year of Grace 1658. and of Re∣velation, and Confusion of Carnal Monarchies the tenth, that we two, who are both holy Vessels, should by an holy Man be joyned to∣gether in the holy Bond of sanctifi'd Matrimony.
I brother Abednego, but our friends consents—
Heaven is our friend, and, Sister, Heaven puts this into our thoughts; it is, no doubt, for propagation of the great Mystery; there shall arise from our two bodies, a great Confounder of Gogmagog, who shall be called the Pestle of Antichrist, and his children shall inherit the Grapes of Canaan.
My mother will be angry, I'm afraid.
Your Mother will rejoyce, the Vision says so, sister, the Vision says your Mother will rejoyce; how will it rejoyce her righ∣teous heart to see you, Tabitha, riding behind me upon the Purple Dromedary? I would not for the world that you should do it, but that we are commanded from above; for to do things without the aforesaid Command is like unto the building of a Fire without the Bottom-cake.
I I, that it is, he knows.
Now to confirm to you the truth of this Vision, there is to meet us at a zealous Shoomaker's habitation hard by here, by the command of a Vision too, our Brother Zephaniah Fats, an Opener of Revelations to the Worthy in Mary White-chapel, and he is the chosen Vessel to joyn our hands.
I would my Mother knew't; but if that holy man come too by a Vision, I shall have grace, I hope, not to resist.
Sister, let me speak one word of Instruction to yonder Babe.
Oh how my bowels yern!
Sirra, is my little Doctor already staying for me at Tom Un∣derleather my Shoomaker's house?
Yes, Sir, but he's in so strange a Habit, that Mr. Under∣leather's Boy Franck and I were ready to die with laughing at him.
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Oh so much the better; go you little piece of a Rogue and get every thing ready against I come back.
Oh the Wonderous— but, Brother Abednego, will you not pronounce this Evening tide before the Congregation of the Spotless in Coleman-street?
The will of the latter Vision is to be fulfilled first, as a Pre∣paratory Vision; let us not make the Messenger of Mystery, who is sent by a Vision so far as from Mary White-chapel for our sakes, to stay too long from his lawful Vocation of Basket-making. Come, Sister Tabitha.
Hei, ho! but I will not resist.
Scene 6.
Mr. Puny, since you threaten me, I tell you plainly I think my Niece has undone her self by marrying thee, for though thou hast a fair Estate at present, I'm hainously mistaken if thou beest not cheated of it all within these three years by such Rabbit-suckers as these, that keep thee company, and like lying sons o' the Devil as they are, cry thee up for a Wit, when there's nothing so unlike, no not any of thy own Similitudes, thy odious Comparisons.
The Colonel's raging mad, like a Baker in the Subburbs, when his Oven's over-heated.
Good, very good i'faith.
I, that was one of 'em; as for her Portion, I thought to ha' given her a thousand pounds, but—
O magnanimous Colonel! what a Portion for a Tooth∣pick-maker's daughter!
Good, shoot him thick with similies like Hail-shot.
But now thou shalt not have a groat with her.
What not a poor old Harry-Groat that looks as thin as a Poet's Cloak? But however, my noble Mountain hearted Uncle, I ha' made her Maiden-head a Crack'd Groat already, and if I ha' no∣thing more from her, she shall ha' nothing more from me; no, she
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shall foot Stokins in a Stall for me, or make Childrens Caps in a Gar∣ret fifteen stories high.
For that matter (for though thou speak'st no sense I guess thy brutish meaning) the Law will allow her honorable Alimony out o' your Foolship's Fortune.
And the Law will allow me her Portion too, good Colonel Uncle, you'r not too big to be brought into Westminster-hall; nay, Captain, his Niece uses me worse too, she will not let me touch the Nail of her little finger, and rails at me like a Flounder-mouth'd Fish-woman with a face like Billingsgate.
What flesh can support such an affected Widgen, who ha's not a design to cheat him of something as that Vermin ha's? well, I shall be able to Live now I hope as befits a Gentleman, and there∣fore I'le endure the company of Fopps and Knaves no longer.
Come Colonel, let's go in, and dispute the difference con∣scienciously over a Bottle o' Sack.
I keep no Tavern, Worm; or if I did, thy whole Estate would hardly reach to a Gill.
Colonel, thou art grown Unkind, and art Drunk this after∣noon without me.
Without thee, Buffoon? why I tell thee, thou shall never shew that Odd, Pimping, Cheating face o' thine within my Doors agen, I'le turn away any man o' mine that shall disparage himself to drink with such a fellow as thou art.
As I? why what am I? pray? Mighty Colonel!
Thou art or hast been every thing that's ill, there is no Scan∣dalous way of Living, no Vocation of the Devil, that thou hast not set up in at one time or other; Fortune ha's Whip'd thee about through all her streets; Thou 'rt one that Lives like a Raven, by Providence and Rapin; now thou 'rt feeding upon that raw young fellow, and doest Devour and Kaw him; thou 'rt one that if thou should'st by chance go to Bed sober, would'st write it down in thy Almanack, for an Unlucky day; sleep is not the Image of Death to thee, unless thou bee'st Dead drunk; Thou art— I know not what— thou'rt any thing, and shall be to me herafter nothing.
This Colonel pisses Vinegar to day.
This is uncivil Language Colonel to an old Camerade, and one of your own party.
My Comrade? o' my party thou? or any but the party of the Pick-purses!
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This bouncing Bear of a Colonel will break the back o' my little Whelp of a Captain, unless I take him off; come away Cap∣tain, I'le firk his back with two Bum-baylies, till he spew up every Stiver of her Portion.
Fare-ye-well, Gentlemen, come not near these Doors if you love your own Leather, I'l ha' my Scullions batter you with Bones and Turneps, and the Maids drown you with Piss-pots, if you do but approach the Windows; these are sawcy Knaves indeed, to come to me for Pounds and Portions.
Poverty, the Pox, an ill Wife, and the Devil go with thee, Colonel.
I vex'd him to the Gills, Worm, when I put that bitter Bob o' the Baker upon him.
I? i'st e'n so? not come to your House? by Iove I'l turn him out of it himself by a trick that I have.
Pish! thou talk'st as Ravingly as a Costermonger in a Fea∣ver.
I'l do't by Iove.
How, prethee, Captain? what does thy Pericranium mean?
Why here I ha't, by Iove; I'm ravish'd with the fancy of it; let me see— let me see— his Brother went seven years ago to Guiny.—
I, but the Merchants say he's Dead long since, and gon to the Blackamores below.
The more Knaves they; he Lives, and I'm the man.
Ha! ha! ha! thou talk'st like a Sowc'd Hoggs-face.
I knew him very well, and am pretty like him, liker than any of your Similitudes, Puny; by long Conversation with him, and the Colonel, I know all passages betwixt 'em; and what his Humor and his Estate was, much better than he himself, when he was Alive; he was a Stranger thing than any Monster in Afrique where he Tra∣ded.
How! prethee Captain? I love these Odd fantastical things as an Alderman loves Lobsters.
Why, you must know, he had quite lost his memory, totally, and yet thought himself an able man for business, and that he did himself all that was done by his man Iohn, who went always along with him; like a Dog with a Blind man.
Ha! ha! ha! Sublimely fantastical
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He carry'd a Scrowl about him of Memorandums, even of his Daughters and his Brothers names, and where his House stood; for as I told you, he remembred nothing; and where his Scrowl failed, Iohn was his remembrancer, we were wont to call him Re∣membrancer Iohn.
Ha, ha, ha! Rarely exotique! I'l Act that apple Iohn, never was such a Iohn as I; not Iohn o' Gant, or Iohn o' Nokes, I will turn Remembrancer Iohn, as round as a Wedding Ring, ha, ha, ha!
Well said! but you must lay aside conceits for a while, and remote fancies. I'l teach you his humor instantly; now will I and my man Iohn swarthy our faces over as if that Country's heat had made 'em so, (which will Disguise us sufficiently) and attire our selves in some strange Habits o' those Parts, (I know not how yet, but we shall see it in Speed's Mapps) and come and take Possession of our House and Estate.
Dear Ovid, let's about thy Metamorphosis.
'Twill be discover'd perhaps at last, but however, for the present 'twill break off his match with the Widdow, (which makes him so Proud now) and therefore it must be done in the twinkling of an Eye, for they say he's to marry her this Night; if all fail, 'twill be at least a merry 'bout for an hour, and a mask to the Wed∣ding.
Quick, dear Rogue! quick as Precipitation.
I know where we can ha' Cloaths, hard by here; give me ten Pounds to hire 'em, and come away, but of all things, man Iohn, take heed of being witty.
I, that's the Devil on't; well, go; I'l follow you behind like a long Rapier.
Scene 7.
If they would allow me but a little time, I could play such a trick with Mr. Truman, as should smart sorely for the rest of his Life, and be reveng'd abundantly on my Cozen, for getting of him from me, when I was such a foolish Girl three year ago as to be in Love with him.
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But they would have us marri'd instantly, The Parson stays for us at Church. I know not what to do— all must out— Odds my life he's coming to fetch me here to Church already.
Scene 8.
Why they say, 'tis the best marriage, when like is Joyn'd to like; now we shall make a very even match, for neither you Love me, nor I Love you, and 'tis to be hop'd we may get Children that will Love neither of us.
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Page 52
I, any thing Mr. Truman; but what shall we do Sir, when we are marry'd, pray?
We may do all this (me-thinks) and never marry for the matter.
Page 53
I, Sir, I! you'd best go look her out, and marry her, she has but one Husband yet.
Only allow me this one short last remembrance of one I lov'd so long. And now I think on't, I'l beg a favour of you, you will Laugh at me I know, when you have heard it, but prethee grant it; 'tis that you would be Veil'd, as Lucia was of late, for this one day; I would fain marry thee so; 'Tis an odd foolish fancy, I confess, But Love and Grief may be allow'd sometimes A little Innocent folly.
That's but a small Compliance; you'l ha' power anon to Command me greater things.
I'l but go in and take my Veil, as you Command me Sir; Walk but a few turns in the Garden, in less than half an hour I'l come to you, ha, ha, ha!
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Act 5.
Scene 1.
So, I have her at last, and honest Ioseph Knock-down married us, me-thinks, with convenient brevity; I have some hold now upon my Estate again (though she, I confess, be a clog upon it worse than a Mort-gage) that, my good Neighbour Barebottle left wholly to his wife; almost all the rest of the Incomes upon his seeking, go to his daughter Tabitha, whom Cutter has got by this time, and promises me to live like an honest Gentleman hereafter; now he may do so comfortably and merrily. She marri'd me thus suddenly, like a good Houswife, purely to save charges; however though, we'l have a good Supper for her, and her eating Tribe; Will, is the Cook a doing according to my directions?
Yes, Sir, he's very hard at his business; he's swearing and cursing in the Kitchin, that your Worship may hear him hither, he'l fright my new old Mistris out of the house.
'Tis such an over-roasted coxcomb— bid him be sure to season well the Venison that came in luckily to day.
Troth, Sir, I dare not speak to him now, unless I should put on your Worship's Armour that lies hid in the Barel below; he'd like to ha' spitted me just now, like a Goose as I was, for telling him he look'd like the Ox that's roasted whole in St. Iames's Fair. Who's there?
See who's at door. I shall ha' some plundred Plate, I hope, to entertain my friends with, when we come to visit the Truncks with Iron hoops; who is't?
Nay, Heaven knows, Sir; two Fiends, I think, to take away the Cook for swearing. They ha' thrust in after me.
Scene 2.
They'l hardly know us at first in these forein habits.
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I Sir, and as the Sun has us'd us in those hot Countries.
Why, this is my old house here, Iohn; ha, ha! little thought I to see my old house upon Tower-hill again. Where's my brother Iolly?
They call me Colonel Iolly.
Ha! let me see, A burly man of a
Nay, 'tis my Master's Worship, Sir, would we were no more alter'd since our Travels.
It agrees very well— Save you good brother, you little thought to see me here again, though I dare say you wish'd it; stay, let me see, how many years, Iohn, is't since we went from hence?
'Tis now seven years, Sir.
Seven? me-thinks I was here but yesterday, how the what de∣ye-call-it-runs? how do you call it?
The Time, Sir.
I, I, the time, Iohn; what was I saying? I was telling you, brother, that I had quite forgot you; was I not telling him so, Iohn?
Faith we'r both quits then; I'l swear I ha' forgot you; why you were dead five years ago.
Was I? I ha' quite forgot it; Iohn, was I dead five years ago? my memory fails me very much of late.
We were worse than dead, Sir, we were taken by a barba∣rous Nation, and there made slaves; Iohn, quoth he? I was poor Iohn I'm sure; they kept us three whole years with nothing but Wa∣ter and Acorns, till we look'd like Wicker bottles.
What, Sirrah, did your Master look like? I'l teach you to say your Master look'd like what de-ye-call 'ums.
Where did they take you prisoners?
Nay, ask Iohn, he can tell you I warrant you; 'twas in— tell him, Iohn, where it was.
In Guiny.
By what Country-men were you taken?
Why they were called— I ha' forgot what they call'em, 'twas an odd kind o' name, but Iohn can tell you.
Who I, Sir? do you think I can remember all things?
'Tis i' my Book here I remember well. Name any Nation un∣der the Sun.
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I know the name, Sir, well enough; but I onely try'd my Master's memory, 'Twas the Tartarians.
I, I, those were the men.
How, Iohn? why all the world man lies betwixt 'em, they live up in the North.
The North?
I the very North, Iohn.
That's true indeed, but these were another Nation of Tar∣tarians that liv'd in the South, they came antiently from the others.
How got you from 'em, Iohn, at last?
Why faith, Sir, by a Ladies means, who, to tell you the truth, fell in love with me; my Master has it all in his Book, 'tis a brave story.
In what Ship came you back?
A plague of't, that question will be our ruine.
What Ship? 'twas call'd a thing that swims, what dee you call't?
The Mermaid?
No, no, let me see.
The Triton?
No, no, a thing that in the water does— it swims in the water—
What is't? the Dolphin?
No, no, I ha' quite forgot the name on't, but 'tis no matter, it swims—
What say you, Iohn?
I, Sir, my Master knows well enough; you cann't conceive the misery we endur'd, Sir.
Well, Brother, I'l but ask you one question more, where did you leave your Will?
'Life, now he's pos'd again— we shall never carry't through.
I'l tell you presently, Brother— let me see,
In what place you left your Will?
I that was it indeed—, that was the very thing you ask'd me; what a treacherous memory have I? my memory is so short—
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This is no Answer to my Question yet.
'Tis true indeed; what was your Question, brother?
Where you left your Will?
Good Lord, that I should forget you ask'd me that! I had forgot it, i'faith law that I had, you'l pardon, I hope, my Infirmity, for I alas—alas— I ha' forgot what I was going to say to you, but I was saying something, that I was.
Well, Gentlemen, I'm now in haste, walk but a while into the Parlour there, I'l come to you presently.
But where's my daughter—
Lucia, Sir?
I, Lucia— put me in mind to ask for her (a plague o' your Tartarians.)
And o'your What dee-ye-call-'ems.
'Life, Tartarians!
If these be Rogues, (as Rogues they seem to be) I will so exercise my Rogues, the tyranny of a new Beadle over a Beggar shall be nothing to't; what think'st thou of 'em, Will?
Faith, Sir, I know not— h'as just my Masters Nose and Upper-lip; but if you think it be not he, Sir, I'l beat 'em worse than the Tartarians did.
No, let's try 'em first— trick for trick— Thou were wont to be a precious Knave, and a great Actor too, a very Roscius; did'st not thou play once the Clown in Musidorus?
No, but I plaid the Bear, Sir.
The Bear! why that's as good a Part; thou 'rt an Actor then I'l warrant thee, the Bears a well-penn'd Part, and you remember my Brother's humor, don't you? They have almost hit it.
I, Sir, I knew the shortness of his memory, he would al∣ways forget to pay me my Wages, till he was put in mind of't.
Well said, I'l dress thee within, and all the Servants shall acknowledge thee, you conceive the Design— be confident, and thou cast not miss; but who shall do trusty Iohn?
Oh, Ralph the Butler, Sir, 's an excellent try'd Actor, he play'd a King once; I ha' heard him speak a Play ex tempore in the Butteries.
O excellent Ralph! incomparable Ralph against the world!
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Come away, VVilliam, I'l give you instructions within, it must be done in a moment.
Scene 3.
Ha, ha, ha! this is the best Plot o' yours, dear Madam, to marry me to Mr. Truman in a Veil instead of your self; I cann't chuse but laugh at the very conceit of't; 'twill make excellent sport: My Mistris will be so mad when she knows that I have got her Ser∣vant from her, ha, ha, ha!
Well, are you ready? Veil your self all over, and never speak one word to him, what ever he says, (he'l ha' no mind to talk much) but give him your hand, and go along with him to Church; and when you come to, I take thee— mumble it over that he may n't distinguish the voice.
Ha, ha, ha! I cann't speak for laughing— dear hony Madam, let me but go in and put on a couple o' Patches; you cann't imagine how much prettier I look with a Lozenge under the Left Eye, and a Half Moon o' this cheek; and then I'le but slip on the Silver-lac'd Shoes that you gave me, and be with him in a trice.
Don't stay, he's a fantastical fellow, if the whimsey take him he'l be gone.
Scene 4.
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Scene 5.
Scene 6.
What do you mean, Bro∣ther Abednego? you will not turn Cavalier, I hope, again, you will not open before Sion in the dres∣sings of Babylon?
What do these cloathes befit Queen Tabitha's husband up∣on her day o' Nuptials? this Hat with a high black chimney for a crown, and a brim no broader than a Hatband? Shall I, who am to ride the Purple Dromedary, go drest like Revelation Fats the Basket-maker? Give me the Peruique, Boy; shall Empress Tabitha's husband go as if his head were scalded? or wear the Seam of a shirt here for a a Band? Shall I who am zealous even to slaying, walk in the streets without a Sword, and not dare to thrust men from the wall, if any shall presume to take't of Empress Tabitha? Are the Fidlers com∣ing, Boy?
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Pish, I cannot abide these doings; are you mad? there come no prophane Fidlers here.
Be peaceable gentle Tabitha; they will not bring the Or∣gans with them hither; I say be peaceable, and conform to Reve∣lations; It was the Vision bad me do this; Wil't thou resist the Vision?
An' these be your Visions? little did I think I wusse— O what shall I do? is this your Conversion? which of all the Prophets wore such a Map about their Ears, or such a Sheet about their Necks? Oh! my Mother! what shall I do? I'm undone.
VVhat shalt thou do? why, thou shalt Dance, and Sing, and Drink, and be Merry; thou shalt go with thy Hair Curl'd, and thy Brests Open; thou shalt wear fine black Stars upon thy Face, and Bobs in thy Ears bigger than bouncing Pears; Nay, if thou do'st begin but to look rustily— I'l ha' thee Paint thy self, like the VVhore o' Babylon.
Oh! that ever I was Born to see this day—
What, dost thou weep, Queen Dido? thou shalt ha' Sack to drive away thy Sorrows; bring in the Bottle, Boy, I'l be a Loving Husband, the Vision must be Obey'd; Sing Tabitha; Weep o'thy Wedding day? 'tis ominous; Come to my Bed my Dear, &c. Oh, art thou come Boy? fill a Brimmer, nay, fuller yet, yet a little fuller! Here Lady Spouse, here's to our sport at Night.
Drink it your self, an you will; I'l not touch it, not I.
By this hand thou shal't pledge me, seeing the Vision said so; Drink, or I'l take a Coach, and carry thee to the Opera imme∣diately.
Oh Lord, I can't abide it—
Why, this will chear thy Heart; Sack, and a Husband? both comfortable things; have at you agen.
I'l pledge you no more, not I.
Here take the Glass, and take it off— off every drop, or I'l swear a hundred Oaths in a breathing time.
Well! you'r the strangest man—
Why, this is right; nay, off with't; so— but the Vision said, that if we left our Drink behind us we should be Hang'd, as many other Honest men na'been, only by a little negligence in the like case; Here's to you Tabitha once agen, we must fulfill the Vi∣sion to a Tittle.
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What must I drink agen? well! you are such another Bro∣ther— Husband.
Bravely done, Tabitha! now thou Obey'st the Vision, thou wil't ha' Revelations presently.
Oh! Lord! my Head's giddy— nay, Brother, Husband, the Boy's taking away the Bottle, and there's another Glass or two in it still.
O Villainous Boy! fill out you Bastard, and squeeze out the last drop.
I'l drink to you now, my Dear; 'tis not hand∣some for you to begin always— Come to my Bed my
O Divine Tabitha! here come the Fidlers too, strike up ye Rogues.
What must we Dance too? is that the Fashion? I could ha' Danc'd the Curranto when I was a Girl, the Curranto's a curi∣ous Dance.
We'l out-dance the Dancing disease; but Tabitha, there's one poor Health left still to be drunk with Musique.
Let me begin't; here Duck, here's to all that
A Health, ye Eternal Scrapers, sound a Health; rarely done Tabitha, what think'st thou now o' thy Mother?
A fig for my Mother; I'l be a Mother my self shortly; Come Duckling, shall we go home?
Go home? the Bride-groom and his Spouse go home? no, we'l Dance home; afore us Squeakers, that way, and be Hang'd you Sempiternal Rakers. O brave! Queen Tabitha! Excellent Em∣press Tabitha, on ye Rogues.
Scene 7.
But where's my what dee ye call her, Brother?
What Sir?
My Daughter— Lucia, a pretty fair Com∣plexioned
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little Dimpled, and a Mole upon— I would fain see my Daughter— Brother.
VVhy, you shall Sir presently, she's very well; what Noise is that? how now? what's the matter?
Ho! my old Master! my old Masters come, he's Lighted just now at the door with his man Iohn; he's asking for you, he longs to see you; my Master, my old Master.
This fellows Mad.
If you wo'nt believe me, go but in and see Sir; he's not so much alter'd, but you'l quickly know him, I knew him before he was Lighted, pray, go in Sir.
VVhy, this is strange— there was indeed some weeks since a report at the Exchange that he was Alive still, which was brought by a Ship that came from Barbary; but that he should be Split in two after his Death, and Live agen in both, is wonderfull to me. I'l go see what's the matter.
I begin to shake like a Plum-tree Leaf.
'Tis a meer Plot o' the Devils to have us beaten, if he send him in just at this Nick.
Scene 8.
Ah Rogue, art thou come at last?
Why, you'l not look upon your Old friends! give me your Golls, Iohn.
Thank ye all heartily for your Love; thank you with all my Heart; my old Bed-fellow, Robin, and how does little Ginny do?
A murren take you, you'l ne're leave your Waggery.
A murren take ye all, I shall be paid the Portion here with a witness.
And how does Ralph? good honest Ralph; there is not an honester Fellow in Christendome, though I say't my self, that should not say't.
Ha, ha, ha! Why Ralph the Rogue's well still; Come
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let's go to him into the Buttery, he'l be Over-joy'd to see thee, and give us a Cup o' the best Stingo there.
VVell said; Steel to the back still Robin; that was your word you know; my Masters coming in! go, go, I'l follow you.
Make haste, good Iohn.
Here's a Company of as honest Fellow-servants; I'm glad, I'm come among 'em agen.
And would I were got out from 'em, as honest as they are; that Robin has a thrashing hand.
Iohn with a Pox to him! would I were hid like a Maggot in a Pescod.
Scene 9.
Me-thinks you'r not return'd, but born to us anew.
Thank you good Brother; truly we ha' past through many dangers; my man Iohn shall tell you all, I'm Old and Crazie.
Sir, the VViddow (my Mistriss I should say) is coming in here with Mr. Knock-down, and four or five more.
O'ds my Life! this farce is neither of Doctrine nor Use to them! keep 'em here, Iohn, till I come back.
I'm glad the Colonel's gone; now will I sneak away, as if I had stoln a Silver spoon.
VVho are those, Iohn? by your leave Sir, would you speak with any body here?
The Colonel, Sir? but I'l take some other time to wait upon him, my occasions call me now.
Pray stay, Sir, who did you say you would ha' spoken with?
The Colonel, Sir; but another time will serve; he has business now.
VVhom would he speak with, Iohn? I forget still.
The Colonel, Sir.
Colonel! what Colonel?
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Your brother, I suppose he is Sir, but another time—
'Tis true indeed; I had forgot, I faith, my Brother was a Colonel; I cry you mercy Sir, he'l be here presently. Ye seem to be Foreiners by your habits Gentlemen.
No Sir, we are English-men.
English-men? law you there now! would you ha' spoke with me, Sir?
No Sir, your Brother; but my business requires no haste, and therefore—
You'r not in haste, you say; pray Sir, sit down then, may I crave your name, Sir?
My name's not worth the knowing Sir—
This Gentleman?
'Tis my man, Sir, his name's Iohn.
I'l be Iohn no more, not I, I'l be Iackanapes first; No, my name's Timothy Sir.
Mr. Iohn Timothy, very well, Sir; ye seem to be Travel∣lers.
We are just now as you see, arriv'd out of Afrique, Sir, and therefore have some business that requires—
Of Afrique? law ye there now; what Country, pray?
Prester-Iohn's Country; fare you well, Sir, for the present, I must be excus'd.
Marry God forbid; what come from Prester-Iohn, and we not Drink a Cup o' Sack together.
What shall I do? Friend, shall I trouble you to shew me a private place? I'l wait upon you presently agen, Sir.
You'l stay here Master? —
I'l only make a little Maids water Sir, and come back to you immediately.
The door's lock'd Sir, the Colonel ha's lock'd us in here— why do you shake Sir?
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Scene 10.
We'l leave those Gentlemen within a while upon the point of Reprobation; but Sweet heart, I ha' two Brothers here, newly arriv'd, which you must be acquainted with.
Marry, Heaven fore-shield! not the Merchant I hope?
No, brethren in Love, only— How dee you Brother?
I your Brother; what de'e mean?
Why, are not you my brother Iolly, that was taken Prisoner by the Southern Tartars?
I Brother, I by Tartars?
What an impudent Slave is this? Sirra, Monster, did'st thou not come with thy man Iohn?
I my man Iohn? here's no such person here; you see you'r mistaken.
Sirra, I'l strike thee Dead.
Hold, hold, Sir, I do remember now I was the Merchant Iolly, but when you ask'd me I had quite forgot it; alas, I'm very Crasie.
That's not amiss; but since thou art not he, I must know who thou art.
Why, do'nt you know me? I'm Captain VVorm, and Puny was my man Iohn.
Where's the fool, Puny? is he slipt away?
Yes, and no fool for't neither for ought I know yet.
Why, we hit upon this frolique, Colonel, only for a kind o' Mask (de' ye conceive me, Colonel?) to celebrate your Nup∣tials; Mr. Puny had a mind to reconcile himself with you in a merry way o' Drollery, and so had I too, though I hope you were not in earnest with me.
Oh! is that all? well said VVill, bravely done VVill, I faith; I told thee, VVill, what 'twas to have Acted a Bear; and Ralph was an excellent Iohn too.
How's this? then I'm an Ass agen; this damn'd Punies fearfulness spoil'd all.
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This cursed Coward VVorm! I thought they were not the right ones.
Here's something for you to drink; go look to Supper, this is your Cue or Exit.
What need you, Love, ha' given 'em any thing? in truth, Love, 〈◊〉〈◊〉' too lavish.
'Twas wittily put off o' me however.
Scene 11.
Here are more Maskers too, I think; this Masking is a Heavenly entertainment for the Widow, who ne'er saw any Shew yet but the Puppet-play o' Ninive.
Stay without, Scrapers.
Oh Lord, I'm as weary with Dancing as passes; Husband, husband, yonders my Mother; O mother what do you think I ha' been doing to day?
Why what, Child? no hurt, I hope.
Nay nothing, I have onely been married a little, and my husband Abednego and I have so danc'd it since.
Brave Tabitha still; never be angry Mother, you know where Marriages are made, your Daughters and your own were made in the same place, I warrant you, they'r so like.
VVell, his will be done— there's— no resisting Providence— but how, son Abednego, come you into that roaring habit of Perdition?
Mother, I was commanded by the Vision, there is some great end for it of Edification, which you shall know by the sequel.
Scene 12.
Come, Dick, bring in your wife to your t'other fa∣ther, and ask him blessing handsomely;
Welcome, dear daughter; off with your Veil;Page 67
Ha! what's this? more masking? why how now, Mr. Tru∣man? you ha' not married my Niece, I hope, instead o' my daughter?
Nay, hold him; patience, good Mr. Truman, let's under∣stand the matter a little—
I wo'not understand, no that I wo'not, I wo'not un∣derstand a word, whilst he and his Whore are in my fight.
Nay, good Sir— Why, what Niece? two husbands in one afternoon? that's too much o' conscience.
Scene 13.
Here, Sir, I was just coming in.
Ha' not you married young Mr. Truman?
No, Sir.
Why, who then has he marri'd?
But did not you promise me you'd marry him this after∣noon, and go to Church with him presently to do't?
But, Sir, my Husband forbad the Banes.
They're all mad; your Husband?
I Sir, the truth o' the matter, Sir, is this, (for it must out I see) 'twas I that was married this afternoon in the Matted Chamber to Mr. Puny, instead o' my Cousin Lucia.
Stranger and stranger! what, and he not know't?
No, nor the Parson, Sir, himself.
Hey day!
'Twas done in the dark, Sir, and I veil'd like my Cousin; 'twas a very clandestine marriage, I confess, but there are sufficient
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proofs of it; and for one, here's half the Piece of Gold he broke with me, which he'l know when he sees.
O rare, by Hymen I'm glad o'the change; 'tis a pretty Sor∣ceress by my troath; Wit to Wit quoth the Devil to the Lawyer; I'l out amongst 'em presently, 't has sav'd me a beating too, which perhaps is all her Portion.
You turn my Head, you dizzie me; but wouldst thou marrie him without either knowing my mind, or so much as his?
His, Sir? he gave me five hundred pieces in Gold to make the Match; look, they are here still, Sir.
Thou hast lost thy senses, VVench, and wilt make me do so too.
Briefly the truth is this, Sir, he gave me these five hundred Pieces to marry him by a Trick to my Cousin Lucia, and by an∣other Trick I took the money and married him my self; the manner, Sir, you shall know anon at leisure, onely your pardon, Sir, for the omission of my duty to you, I beg upon my knees.
Nay, Wench, there's no hurt done, fifteen hundred pounds a year is no ill match for the daughter of a Sequestred Cavalier—
I thought so, Sir.
If we could but cure him of some sottish affectations, but that must be thy task.
My life on't, Sir.
I'l out; Uncle Father your Blessing— my little Matchivil, I knew well enough 'twas you; what did you think I knew not Cross from Pile?
Did you i'faith?
I by this kiss of Amber-grees, or I'm a Cabbage.
Why then you out-witted me, and I'm content.
A pox upon you Merchant Iolly, are you there?
But stay, how come you, Niece, to be marri'd to Mr. Tru∣man?
I know not, Sir, as I was walking in the Garden.
Nay, there's no hurt done here neither—
No hurt, Colonel? I'l see him hang'd at my door before he shall have a beggarly—
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Hark you, Mr. Truman, one word aside
This foolish Iane (as I perceive by the story) has lost a Hus∣band by staying for a Black patch.
Though I in rigour by my brothers Will might claim the forfeiture of her Estate, yet I assure you she shall have it all to the utmost farthing; in a day like this, when Heaven bestows on me and on my daughter so unexpected and so fair a fortune, it were an ill re∣turn to rob an Orphan committed to my Charge.
Why you speak, Sir, like a Vertuous Noble Gentle∣man, and do just as I should do my self in the same case; it is—
'Twas I upon my credit in a Veil;
Ha, ha, ha! but your Farce was not right me-thinks at the end.
Why how, pray?
Why there should ha' been a Beating, a lusty Cudgeling to make it come off smartly with a twang at the tail.
Say you so? h'as got a set of damnable brawny Servingmen.
At least Iohn Pudding here should ha' been basted.
A curse upon him, he sav'd himself like a Rat behind the Hangings.
'Tis enough, good noble Colonel, I'm satisfi'd; Come, Dick, I see 'twas Heavens will, and she's a very worthy virtuous Gentlewoman; I'm old and testy, but 'tis quickly over; my blessing upon you both.
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VVhy so, all's well of all sides then; let me see, here's a brave Coupling day, onely poor VVorm must lead a Monkish life of 't.
I'l have a VVife for him too, if you will, fine Mrs. Iane within; I'le undertake for her, I ha' set her a gog
I, but what Portion has she, Mrs. Puny? for we Captains o' the King's side ha' no need o' VVives with nothing.
VVhy Lozenges, and Half-moons, and a pair of Silver∣lac'd Shoes; but that Tropes lost to you; well, we'l see among us what may be done for her.
Come, let's go in to Supper; there never was such a day of Intrigues as this in one Family. If my true Brother had come in at last too after his being five years dead, 'twould ha' been a very Play.