Not poysoned you say?
No, hes as well as we.
It may be he has more lives then one, or used himself to poyson, as we now, that are Scholars, and Poets read, of one Mithidrates.
He was never sick.
Yes, very hot.
I, as a painted fire, his fancy made him so; I smell a plot in't. Lucia, you say, urged him then for Truman. 'Twas a meer plot, I doubt, to put him in fear of death.
I shall be taken for a kind of Rogue then, for bearing false witness
You shall not be mistaken, Sir, at all.
Pillory'd, and whipt, with my godly brother Cutter.
Abus'd by the Prentices as you walk in the streets, and have rotten apples slung at you.
Have a hundred blustring oaths o' mine no more beleeved, then when I swear to my Creditors, I'll pay all.
Be abandon'd by all men above a Tapster; and not dare to looke a gentleman i'the face; unless perhaps you sneak into a Play-house, at the fifth Act.
If ever I have to do with women a∣gain, but i'the way of all flesh, may I dye an Eunuch. I'll never lye or swear hereafter, but for my self. Were not you the vertu∣ous gentlewoman, with the brown paper-face, that perswaded me to it?
The very same, Sir; and I ha' just such another exploit here to imploy thee in: therefore be secret, close as a cokle, my good Rymer.
To imploy me in!
Nay, you must do't i'faith; I ha' sworn first, Dogrel.
By this good light, I will do nothing at thy intreaty: not if thou shouldst intreat me to lye with thee. Must Poet Dogrel?
I, must, if he intend e're to drink Sack again; or to make more use of his little-poc∣ket, then to carry Tavern-bills in't; must do't, unless he intend to die without a shirt, and be buried without a winding-sheet.
I like thy wit yet wench, what is't?
I would marry Puny; he's rich you know, and a bravery, and a wit.
He says himself he is so; but few are of his faith.
He dances too, and courteth the Ladies.
Yes in more postures then a dozen of Bowlers.
But he's rich, Dogrel, and will be wise enough; when I have got'um knighted, then I shall be a Lady, Dogrel; have a dozen of French-Taylors, Doct•rs, Jewellers, Perfumers, Tyre-women, to sit in consultati∣on every morning, how I shall be drest up to play at Gleek, or dance, or see a Comedy, or go to the Exchange i'the afternoon; send every day my Gentleman, to know how such a Lady slept, and dream'd; or whe∣ther her dog be yet in perfect health: Then have the young smelling braveries; all adore me, and cut their arms, if I be pleased to be angry: Then keep my close and open Coaches, my yellow sattin Pages, Mon∣kies, and women, or (as they call 'um) crea∣tures.
Be then a politick, Lady; keep none but ugly ones, you'll ne'er be handsome else. But suppose all this, what's this to Dogrel?
Dogrel shall be maintain'd by me, he shall ha' fine new Serge; and every day more wine then's drunk at a Corona∣tion.
This qualifies. And when the good Knight's dicing, or at bowls, or ga∣thering notes in private out o' Romances; might not Dogrel have a bit?
Yes, like enough your Poetry might tempt some of my under-women to't. But are you prepar'd to cheat, in your own be∣half, Page [unnumbered] and mine?
I, but how must this be done?
Why thus briefly. First read this Letter.
We haue long desired to be contracted to∣gether, that nothing might be wanting to our Loves, but Ceremony: To night about nine a clock, I shall finde opportunity to meet you at the garden door, and let you in; silence and the help of veiles, will save the violating of your oath. Farewel.
Yours, Luc. Blade.
No▪ but the hand's •s like hers as the left is to the right. This you shall shew to Puny; and tell him that you found or stole it from Truman: I need not I suppose in∣struct you, to polish over a lye; he knows their love, and cannot suspect any thing; perswade him to make use of the occasion, and come himself.
And you•ll meet him vail'd.
Hast thou found it out? thou hast shrew•d reaches Dogrel.
I'll do't. Thou shalt be blest. I'll do't i'faith.
About it then; I'll leave you: and fail not, Dogrel; remember wine and serge. But first, I have another way t' undoe thee, Lucia: And that I•ll try too.
Go thy ways girl for one, and that's for Puny I hope; I see thou'lt ne'er turn Semstress, nor teach girls; thou'dst be a rare wife for me, I should beget on thee Donnes, and Iohnsons: but thou art too wit∣ty. We men that are witty know how to rule our selves, can cheat with a safe consci∣ence; 'tis charity to help thee, Aurelia, and I will do't, and merit.
Act. 3. Scaen. 2.
Act 3. Scaen. 3.
Thanks good Taylor; now I'll onely beg that I may buy your secrecy: Fare thee well, Friend.
Page [unnumbered]I have with much ado gotten to you, and can stay with you to night. (Ha!) Why should we defer our joys longer, since we are married in heart? The opportunity, and impatience of such delays, forc'd me to de∣sire that which else my modesty would not suffer me—(Modesty?) —Your desires— to your bed —long wisht-for—(why this is strange) hum-hum-hum— Yours, Lucia. No, no, thou art not Lucia. If thou dost (As thou saist) love me, do not use that name.
Act. 3. Scaen. 4.
But how shall I represent this An∣thropophagus?
Onely speak softly, lest she chance to know your voice.
I warrant you I'll whisper like wet wood in a Justices chimney at Christmas.
But of all things, take heed of too much wit; that's always dangerous, but especially now. Truman, you know, is an ho∣nest harmless fellow, and is contented to speak sense.
I, hang him; there's clotted cream in his head in stead of brains; and no more o' that then will compleatly serve to fill the eye of a needle. But I shall ne'er abstain from these fine things, hyperboles and simi∣litudes: my nature stands a tiptoe: Truman has got the cramp; his genius is like some gouty Alderman's that sits in a chair. An' I were in Phalaris's Bull, I think I should be witty.
Nay, I know't; a man may as Page [unnumbered] well keep a prentice from Moor-fields on a holiday, as you from your Muses, and Ca∣nundrums; they're meat and drink to you.
No, my good bag-pipe, they're meat and drink to you, that feed by 'um.
I see you're ashamed of the Muses, and I hope they're even with you. But so much for this: you•ll finde wine, I hope, when I have found you the wen•h.
Though thou wouldst drink cups bigger then Pa•ls-steeple, or the great bell at Westminster, thou shouldst have 'um. How long dost thou think has this night worn her mourning-gown, and lookt like a funeral?
Indeed, she has many torches. Why sure, 'tis just about the Critical time which she appointed. You know your busi∣ness: First break a piece of Gold; profess before Heav'n and Angels, you take her for your wife; then give her half of it: and after that, somewhat as you understand me.
Will she be malleable, d'ye think? Shall I stamp Puny on her?
There's a Metaphor indeed! It seems 'tis the fashion; you take your wife for Gold. Hark! the door opens, use your fortune well.
Now, if my Alcocadin be right, I'm sure, I am made.
Act. 3. Scaen. 5.
Pox upon 'um, they put me into a horrible fear; but I am glad I am so hap∣pily cheated, for all that. Well, I must de∣vise some horrible lye, to justifie my fears; some trick must be thought upon to gull Truman. How now? What news from Tripoly.
Sad news, my Lord; here's an Ar∣my at the door, to speak with you.
Who are they? Creditors? a Mer∣chant, a Mercer, a Scrivener, a Taylor, a Butcher, Six Cookes, a dozen of Vint∣ners, and the rest? Ha? Tell 'um I am sick, taking Physick, or else abroad; hang 'um Rogues, come like quotidian Agues on a man.
No, Sir, 'tis old Mr. Truman, the Widow, and her daughter, and Mr. Dog∣rel, and I know not who; there's a stock of 'um.
They are those I wisht for, let 'um in.
Act. 3. Scaen. 6.
O Sir, my Son has poyson'd you, I see; there's no Law yet, is there?
Mr. Trum•n —
True me no more then I true you. Come, Captain Blade, I know what you are, and so shall others too.
You'll hear me, Sir, I hope —
And so shall you hear me, Sir; I can be heard, I would you should know, in as good a place as this is; and before as good as you are, Captain Blade.
First leave your raging, Sir: for though you should roar like Tamerlin at the Bull, 'twould do no good with me.
I Tamerlin? I scorn him, as m•ch as you do, for your ears. I'll have an acti∣on of slander against you, Captain; you shall not miscal me at your pleasure: remember you call'd me Iethro once before.
O the Father! little did I think, I wuss, to see you ever with these eyes a∣gain.
Pray, Sir, hear me; The wrong I did you, when you were last here, came from distraction onely, and not my will; and therefore deserves pardon. The business, if you please, I'll relate truly to you; and by what special providence I escap'd the danger.
Well, Sir, I'm not angry; but Page [unnumbered] I'll not be call'd Tamerlin by any man.
Upon my faith, Sir, it was an Anti∣dote; I vomited up more then any whale could have done; things of more colours then twenty Rhetoricians were ever able to invent.
I shall teach my son—
No good Sir, I forgive him with all my heart: but for my Neece—You remem∣ber, Sir, the Will my brother left; you were witness to it. For this her disobedience, the means are faln to me. Now if you please to marry M. Richard to my daughter, Lucia's portion shall all be hers.
Thank you good Captain Blade; I thank you for your love heartily: pray send for 'um; he shall do't presently. I thank you heartily for your love, good Captain: he shall do't, he shall do't.
Well, I praise God, Sir, in better health then I deserve, vile wretch. I'm glad to see our neighbour so recovered.
I, good man, he has had a dangerous time of it, that he has, a very dangerous time: his neece is a naughty wench, a scurvie girl, to repay him thus for all his care and trou∣ble: he has been a father to her, Widow, that he has; to my knowledge he has: Her father was an honest man, I'm sure on't.
Was he? I, as ever trod upon Gods ground, peace be with him; I, and as loving a neighbour too—
We have drunk our half pintes of Muscadel together many a morning, that we have.
My husband too was all in all with him. Hei-ho! I shall never forget how merry we were when we went with him to Mortlake in the Easter-holy-days: and we carried a shoulder of Mutton with us, and a fat Pig, and he carried his bottle of wine down with him: I warrant you he he lov'd a cup of wine as well as his brother; in a fair sort, I mean.
Ah widow! those days are gone: we shall never see those days again. I was a merry grig too then, and would ha'danc'd and cut capers: ha—who but I? I was as merry as the maids.
My daughter Tabytha was just four yeer old then, come Lamas-tide.
Captain, I thought thou hadst been at Ere•us by this time: but 'tis no matter; 'tis but an Epitaph lost: hang't, 'twas made ex tempore and so let it pass.
Hadst thou made one i'faith?
Yes, by thi, light.
I'm glad I did not die then. O here they come. She's a good handsome wench; 'tis pity to cozen her. But who can help it? Every one for himself, and God for us all.
Act. 3. Scaen. 7.
Welcome, kinde Neece; you see I live still: there were Antidotes as well as Poisons.
He has been a loving Uncle to you, Mistress Lucia: he might have deserv'd better at your hands: you might had Master Truman, I warrant you, had you but held up your finger to him: he would not ha' seen you perish, Mistris Lu•ia; I may say I know him so far. Speak, Mistris Lucia, speak for your self, good chuck; your Uncle will forgive you: we'll all speak for you: He shall forgive you, that he shall: he knows we have all our faults.
I understand the language of her si∣lence; it's strong and good. You bound your son, Sir, to an oath never to see nor hear her without your commission: 'tis that troubles her conscience; she has a tender one.
I bound 'um? Well, I absolve 'um then; what's that to you, Sir? I'll binde 'um again, if 't be my pleasure so: if not, a fig for you; that's all I care. I love to speak my minde; you must pardon me, I ha' spoke to as good as you i• my days.
D'ye speak thus always? I'll ha' you in a Play if you do.
I'm glad you are so religious, Sir; did I bind you too to silence? Go too, Sir; I told you what your may bees would bring you to, you'll always be wiser then your father: Nay, you may speak, and your Mi∣nion too, if she pleases.
Does any man here accuse me of any thing?
We, and your conscience do.
Thou'dst be blacker then a Moor if 'twere. Did not you consent with that damn'd Physitian to give me poyson?
Let her alone, she'll call names and fling stones about anon.
Alas poor soul! you may see she's not her own woman.
What a poor excuse she made! a very idle simple excuse; have you never a better for us?
No, she says true.
You wo'nt bite off my nose? will ye, Sir? pray do not bite off my nose, I pray, Sir, do not?
Act. 3. Scaen. 8.
What a bevy o' men's here! ha! My little Load-stone, art thou here, my lit∣tle Diamond? I'll speak to your Uncle now; we'll have a Parson cry I Nicholas presently.
You'r rude, Sir: what do you mean?
I, so you said i'the garden, when I began to gather, you know what fruit: Come put on your vail, you'll blush else; and look like the picture of a red-rose i'the hangings. Captain, Salve, 'tis done.
I have her, i'faith.
God give you joy, Sir.
Nay, she's my own.
I am very glad of 't.
I scal'd the walls, entered the Town, and left a garison there, I hope.
I congratulate your Victory, Mr. Puny.
You shall goe to my wedding, with me and thi• fair Chorus. I'm as nimble as a Lybian Rabbit: Come, you must go, though you be as lame as a criple, that b••s at Westminster, or a Crow in a gutter with∣out her right leg. What d'ye wonder at? I tell you, she's my Penelope now.
May I be so bold, Sir, as to ask, who 'tis you mean?
'Slid, canst thou not see my mean∣ing? are your brains in a litter? I'm con∣tracted to your Neece, and have got upon her—Nay, never blush, we're as good as married, my dear Agat.
Have you then lien with her?
Ha! No figures nor similitudes, good Mr. Puny; be as open and naked with me, as you were with her.
As plain as a Scholars mourning-cloak. I ha' don't i'faith, but d'ye see? We broke this gold between us first, and will be married to day. Who's that? Truman, ha, ha; he looks like the Globe of the World, now: look how he scratcheth his poul.
God give you joy, Sir: but she has not a farthing portion.
Not so much as will buy ribbands: all s mine own: a lawful prize, i'faith.
Oh monster of her sex!
Wilt thou, vile man—I cannot speak to him—Witness all these—
So 'tis all forfeited to me. Will you try how your sons affection stands towards Aurelia?
Come, Dick, the Captain has forgiven you: never think of Lucia; she's not worth your thinking on; a scurvie girl: ne'er think o' her; thou shalt marry fair Aurelia: there's a wench, a wench worth gold i'faith.
I can't marry.
What can't you do, Sir?
I can't marry.
Do you know who 'tis you speak to, Sir? you do'n't sure: Who am I, pray? you can•t, when I bid you. Surely you know not who 'tis you speak to: you shall do't, or I'll know why you shall not.
I won't marry.
Get you out o' my sight: come within my doors no more; not within my doors, Sir.
Take heed, M Truman, what you do.
I wo'n't marry.
Pray hear me all—
Come, M. Truman, let's talk of these things within: come, Gentlemen.
Hei-ho! I'll ne'er trust a wart o' the right cheek and a twinkling eye again whilst I breathe, for Mistress Lucia's sake. A man would, think, that sees her▪ that butter would not ha' melted in her mouth. Take heed, Tabytha; the still Sow eats up all the draff, I see.
I'll never acknowledge him for my son again: I tell you, Captain, he's al∣ways thus; he's always with his may-be's and his wo'nots: I can't abide these wo'∣nots, not abide 'um.
I ll follow him about the portion; he sha' not think to make an Asdrubal of me.
Now my plot works.