Squire Oldsapp, or, The night-adventurers a comedy, as it is acted at His Royal Highness the Duke's Theatre / written by Tho. Durfey, Gent.

ACT I. SCENE I.

A Bowling-Green.

Enter Welford meeting Henry.

Welford.

WHat! Harry.

Henry.

Dear Iack, thy humble Servant.

Welf.

This was unexpected, i'faith, Pre∣thee when cam'st thou to Town?

Henr.

This Morning; and hearing at your Lodgings you were come hither, I had hardly patience to stay and dine, for fear I should miss you, not coming time enough.

Welf.

'Twas a happy fear, and argues friendly love. Well, and how fare all our Friends at Bath? hah! are thy Tenants still thrifty? Does the Old Wood stand where it did: But I think I need not que∣stion thee; for I heard of late thou wert grown a great Husband.

Henr.

Why faith I am so much a Husband, as you call it, to un∣derstand that the better the Care, the better the Purse; but my Steward can satisfie you in this particular better than I; for I confess I am of the same temper with other Young Gentlemen, newly come to their Estates, and do not so much consider what I may spend, as what I can spend, still deserting the thrifty for the gentile quality.

Welf.

This was thy humour I know; but if I may credit Report; thou art now quite alter'd: Besides, my words carry a double sense with 'em; and by calling thee Husband, I not only meant as to thy Estate, but the other weighty matter, Marriage: Hal. is it so? come, con∣fess.

Henr.

Why 'faith, I will; and therefore must ingeniously tell thee, one of that soft delicious Sex has been too hard for me; for getting dam∣nably drunk one Night, I got damnably in love too; and was never so∣ber till I was marry'd.

Welf.

Ha, ha, ha—

Henr.

Nay! I expect now you will laugh at me, knowing my for∣mer humour of mistrusting all Womens Vertue. But know Friend, this is such a Jewel of a Woman, so witty, so modest, so charming, so observant, so—

Welf.

Hold! hold! and prethee waste thy Breath in no more of these lavish praises, till thou hast strengthen'd my Faith, in what thou hast said already. Thou talk'st of Miracles, Hal. either of these qua∣lities thou hast mention'd is more than ever any Lady yet had to boast of. But I see thou hast got the blindness of a Husband with his con∣dition. Go home and say thy Prayers. Thou art no Man of this World. Hal.

Henr.

Yes! and of the next too Sir, let me tell you that, I have gone a good step towards it already. Come prethee desert this rov∣ing humour of thine, take a Friends counsel, grow solid, do—grow solid, and marry, 'faith 'tis the sober part of Mans Life—I have con∣sider'd it: you know I have rambled my self ere now, and know what belongs to Mistresses, Garnitures and Fiddles; but by the way, let me tell you, a Mistress breaks a Bone, but a good Wife sets it again. There's a Proverb for ye.

Welf.

Well, so much for Marriage, Hal. that necessary Ill as ma∣ny call it. But to requite your Proverb, let me tell ye; a Mistress only cracks a Mans Purse-strings; but a Wife his Heart-strings: Give me thy Hand, I have consider'd that too.

Henr.

Sir, I grant this may be true in some Cases, your jilting, wanton, costly, squeamish mallapert London Wife, that will be seven years wooing, and use her several Lovers according to her several Hu∣mours, I allow may deserve this Character: but mine, although she was bred at Court, and is a Person of Eminent Quality, yet as I have molded her, is now a pretty, humble, good-natur'd, innocent Coun∣try Wife, one that will—

Welf.

One that will lye with a Man at first sight, and never put him to a seven years Court-ship.

Henr.

Phoo! Prethee no more o'this; thou art too severe: What a Pox dost think I have marry'd a Messalina! a Dol Common—This is as I fear'd—but I'am resolv'd he shall be ignorant of her being now in Town; I see he cannot leave his old humour.

[Aside.

Welf.

Well! to confirm the contrary, prethee let me see her; come, I know thou hast brought her to Town with thee.

Henr.

To Town! That's a good one ifaith: Bring a young breed∣ing Lady to Town, that's the way to have her long for every thing

she sees: no, no! I understand things better than so—Poor Soul, she's at home spinning. She—

Welf,

Spinning! an excellent Employment; and as wholesome and necessary a Debauch for a Woman, as Whoreing and drinking is for a Man. The Wheel is a kind of an implicite Pimp; and while she is whirling it about to spin a fine Thread for her Sheets, it gives her thoughts the liberty of imagining how she shall wear 'em out: Then adding the blunt Stories of the Country Wenches her Compa∣nions, and the relish of a Bawdy Song now and then; Oh! 'tis as necessary an exercise as I would wish a Woman.

Henr.

Hey! why thou art mad sure. Death, is there no difference in Women?

Welf.

No faith! that ever I could find; blow but out the Can∣dle—

Henr.

Then let me inform you the contrary; for mine is the only happy Creature that had power to make me forbear affronting the Sex. But hold—

Enter Pimpo.

You were lately talking of pimping; I ha no skill in Phisiognomy; but here's a Fellow making up to us; methinks has an admirable Face for such a Business.

Welf.

Hush—He's one of my Creatures, an Utensil I have now and then occasion for—Now Sirrah! what News!

Pimp.

News, quoth a! sincerely I am ashamed to tell you; and my Heart bleeds within me, to think you should have no more Consci∣science in you. The my Mistriss be a weaker—O, frail Woman! yet you should, methinks, temper your Concupiscence—Sincerely you should, Sir—Fie, fie: I'm asham'd on't; and I begin to think too, that mine is but a scandalous Employment, sincerely.

Welf.

Sirrah, 'tis a noble one. A Pimp is both an Ancient and Ho∣nourable Imploy. What, Rascal, do you murmur at your Vocation? Come—the business—is the Frollick done to night?

Pimp.

Lord, Sir,—have you no Religion! no spice of it in ye: Why if not for my sake, take care of your own Soul, Sir—Take care of your Soul.

[Cries.

Welf.

Leave your howling, Dog; and tell your message quickly. Sirrah—you could speak softly tother night, when you took my Guin∣ny. Rogue you cou'd.

Pimp.

Ay! you know my blind side, sincerely: You know I am a mortal Man.

Welf.

You talk of Religion, Rascal, Sirrah, don't I know you got a Wench with Child when you liv'd with my Lord Acrelesse—and afterwards contriv'd to have it brought upon the Parish.

Pimp.

I, Sir! 'Twas my Lords Scullion got it: 'Twas none of me, sincerely: I'd have you to know I scorn the scandal. I get her with Child! no: Thank my Education, I am a Maid—I—

Welf.

A Maid! a pretious one. Well, whether you did or no, tell me the message quickly, or this shall search for it.

Pimp.

Hold, hold, Sir, what you will not murder me, sincerely! will ye?

Welf.

I know not! do not trust me. Come, Dog, there's half a Crown for ye; say quickly now.—

Pimp.

Well! adsniggs Mr. Welford, you are such a confounded Whipster, there is no denying you any thing when you have a mind to know it. Lend me your Ear—

[Whispers.

Welf.

In the Grove behind my Lord Richlands—

Pimp.

Ay, Sir; but you must make haste, for 'tis near the time.

Welf.

You are sure the Old Fellow will not fail—

Pimp.

Very sure, Sir; his discourse for above this week has been nothing but hard Words, Charms and Conjurations, and has such a mind to be young again, that he misses not a tittle, sincerely.—You are wag to use him so, y'are, y'are: but gad mend ye, gad mend ye.

Welf.

Go, Sirrah; prepare every thing, and tell her I'll be there immediately. Go, Rascal—Ha, ha, ha.

[Exit Pimpo.

Henr.

What, an Intrigue, Iack! I told you I knew that Fellows Business by his Face.

Welf.

Prethee, do not abuse the Poor Fellow; for he's as necessary in this affair to me, as he that gave thy Wife at Church was to thee. But see, yonder's Will. Lovel, and the rest of the Bowlers; there's some humours amongst them, that will divert thee, Hall—Prethee excuse me now, because I have a little business—But thou knowest my Old Lodging: to morrow I'm thine all day.

[Ex. Welf.

Henr.

No; 'tis resolv'd he must not see, nor know my Wife, while she is in Town.

Enter William Lovel, Sir Fredrick, Colonel Buff.

Lovel.

Hal; I am all wonder to find thee here. I heard thou wert marry'd, and had'st resolv'd to desert all thy old Friends in Town.

Henr.

No such matter, Sir, a Wife will hardly get such power over me—I am my Friends all day, tho' I am hers at night, Will.

Sir Fred.

Colonel, you were talking of Toledo's, here's one for you, look upon't; look upon't again, Colonel; you have look't, you have survey'd it well?

Col. Buff.

I have, Sir Fredrick.

Sir Fred.

Well, now take it and run me through with't; pshaw,

what a Man of Blood, and sflinch—Do it, I say. Run me through, I've a trick in't—

Buff.

By the Life of St. Gregory, Sir Fredrick; what mean ye, are you compos Mentis?

Sir Fred.

Look now: He has spoil'd my trick, quite ruin'd my de∣vice, by King Ieffery. Why Colonel, if you had run me through, gad I would have shown you the most cunning trick, the most intricate sophistick matter, that ever Eyes beheld: I wou'd have caus'd Sack, Rhenish, and Claret to have gusht from the Wound; I wou'd have made you drunk by transpiration, with a box on the Ear made you sober again, heal'd up the Orrifice in a trice, and then gone to Supper with the Pox—Not run a Man through, when he desires you?

Henr.

Hey day! Here's a pleasant humour ifaith; prethee what is he?

Lovel.

Why the only Buffoon of Town and Country, Sir Fredrick Banter; one that has spent the best part of his youth in observing and practising the ridiculous humours of the age, and the more mimicry he has in his Actions, the more he thinks himself accom∣plish't: a great bowler: but amongst all his humours this of bantring people he most delights in.

Henr.

Bantering, prithee what's that?

Lov.

I'll tell you, Bantring in his sense is divided two ways; one is a manner of gabling, by doubling the Tongue; which makes you think they tell a story, when they say nothing: And th' other, is telling ye a prolix, ridiculous, incredible story, with the face of truth, an∣swering your question with a tedious lye; and the jest is in amuzing you half an hour, in hearing an impertinent, prodigious narration of wonderful matters, full of non-sence, and far from the purpose—See, he's at it, prithee observe him—

Sir Fred.

Colonel, I know you are a Man in favour, and if you would but—bublinshrundish—the same again, the oblishbrutiglish would advantage the—whishmstolshed in the greatest manner ima∣ginable.

Buff.

What would you have me do, Sir Fredrick?

Sir Fred.

Why look you, I say you are a Man much belov'd at Court: Now, what were it for you to wshilbeminishiemdlidge the King, about infedgingldgninry upon apprehension to usludingell grin∣didliddintolwish—in kindness to your friend.

Buff.

I beg a Pention of the King, d'e say?

Sir Fred.

No, no: I don't talk of Pention, I say; pray observe me, I say were it my case as 'tis yours; I would subberlinledge ningldru∣idge to any Friend, and then, mergnmurgnledg and the worth prilu∣gillux coming in! Gad I would.

Buff.

What, Sir?

Sir Fred.

What, Sir! why, what a Devil don't you understand me?

Buff.

By the Blade, not a word, not I.

Sir Fred.

Ha, ha, ha, dost not! give me thy hand then, I have a little imperfection! ha, ha. Will. didst hear me?

Lov.

Ay, ay, Sir. Now, is it not as I told thee?

Henry.

Yes, and I find he's much taken with it! but, by Sir Fre∣dricks leave though, I should sooner break his head than stay so long to let him break his jest, were I the Person. But prithee are there any. such people?

Lov.

O many Sir, I assure you—Tis a very Modish humour now a∣dayes—That other there is a Colonel of the last age, an honest merry blunt Fellow, a little vain, if you get into his Element of fighting, but else a very good companion—But the best of our company is wanting, one 'Squire Oldsap, a credulous merry old debaucht fool, one that tho' he be too crazy himself for Women, yet he keeps a Wench for the credit on't. The pleasant'st threescore and three thou ever saw'st—Pla—Faith this was good luck, yonder he comes, prithee observe him, Hal.

Enter Oldsap with a Fools Cap on's head, and a Bundle under his arm.

Oldsap.

Lovel, merry be thy heart Lad, my Son, Son of the Ooldsaps, I'll call thee so, shall I? For a Man that keeps his word with me shall not onely be my Son, but my Sons Son, nay my Sons Sons Grandson! if affinity will do't—hah, Sir Fredrick, by the Marry Maskins I'll kiss thee too. Prince.—Prince of the Jokers, prithee let me kiss thy hoof, do—let me, my Merry wagg—

Sir Fred.

By King Iesfery, by no means, Squire. Well, but a pox on thee, how dost thou do, Old Jewstrump?

[Gives him a blow on the Head.

Oldsapp.

Very well, Sir Fredrick! Very well! better and better! by the Marry Maskins,—whoop,—why who's here—what my noble old Friend Col. Buff too, let me kiss thee, old stump of honour: Before George I could jump for joy to see thee: hah! old Lad?

Henr.

Whirr! why this is Whirligigg.

Lov.

The mock of Regeneration? but hush, we shall have more yet.

Col. Buff.

Gramercy Squire ifaith! I see thou art a merry shaver still, by the Blade, thou hold'st out bravely. But prithee, my merry spawn of the Oldsapp's what dost thou mean by this, this Cap here? Thou art not going a Morrice-dancing, art thou?

Oldsapp.

A Morice-Dancing! why merry be thy heart Colo∣nel, what Jokes upon me,—hah,—before George tis well I am in hast I should pound you else, by the marry maskins I should—This Cap, Sir, let me tell you, was—

Sir Fred.

I'll tell you what 'twas Colonel. I was acquainted with't be∣fore him. This Cap, Colonel, was the Cap of Fortunatus, the wishing-Cap. You have heard of the wishing-Cap, han't you?

Col. Buff.

Sir, I have heard of some such thing.

Sir Fred.

Yes, yes, 'tis very well known abroad. 'Tis i'th' Chro∣nicle. This Cap Colonel; (Mercy upon us who wou'd imagine it?) This Cap has been the death of many a Bishop.

Col. Buff.

A Bishop! Sir Fredrick! Marry Heav'n forbid, how?

Sir. Fred.

Why they dy'd Sir, no one knows how—but they dy'd—The very lining on't had like to broke the Heart of two or three Queens.

Buff.

'Tis impossible! why, good Sir Fredrick? what vertue can there be in the Lining of this Cap?—

Sir Fred.

O wonderful, wonderful: 'Twill draw Teeth, that's one thing.

Buff.

Teeth!

Sir Fred.

Ay, or cure the Gout; the New Spring is nothing to't.

Omnes.

Ha, ha, ha.

Buff.

Pish, ye jest, ye jest, I'll ne'r believe it.

Oldsapp.

Well, said Sir Fredrick, you are full of your merry hu∣mours I see; but take it from me, this is no jesting matter: for let me tell you, how slightly soever you think of it, this same Cap here is worth Two Millions in Money.

Henr.

What the Devil does he banter how?

Lov.

Two Millions! how, prethee Squire, how?

Oldsapp.

How! why there's Magick in't. 'Tis full of Magick; 'twas the Cap of Michael de Scoto: The Florentîne Necromancer, and with the rest of his Robes, which I have here in this Bundle, together with some Ceremonies which shall be nameless, has power to con∣vert Age into Youth—You shall see me to morrow a Spark of one and twenty.

Buff.

Ay, you may fancy what you will, Mr. Oldsapp, but by the Blade I can find no reason in what you say.

Oldsapp.

Reason! before George, the Colonel is a little soft too. Why, 'tis Magick: 'tis Magick, Man: 'tis above Reason: Lord, how dull he is.

Henr.

Confound 'um, these are the most insufferable Coxcombs: I shall never have patience—

Oldsapp.

I have told my Sneaky on't already, and poor Rogue she's so overjoyed—she has such hopes of me, poor Quean. Well I'll about it instantly. And pray believe that nothing but so pressing an affair could take me from my merry Bowlers. But to morrow, like Iupiter, and Mars, and Mercury: Venus, Diana, and the rest of the Gods, I will appear and frollick and frollick my merry wags;—to try, to try,—ah Rogues! well adieu.

[Ex. Oldsap.

Sir Fred.

Ah, go thy ways old Baboon. Well, by King Ieffry, 'tis a strange thing men should be such Fools.

Buff.

Come Sir Fredrick, let's go in and drink a Bottle before we bowl, ifaith my Westwhaphlia, at Dinner, has made me as dry as dust.

Sir Fred.

With all my heart, Col. Will. Lovel, wilt thou go?

Lov.

I'll follow you, Sir. Come Hal, wilt thou make one? I'm sure thou canst not meet with better diversion.

Henr.

No: a pox on't, I am weary of 'em already: for I am as much tired with the extravagance of a Fool, as with riding of a jaded Hackney. Besides I am weary, and will go presently to Bed; but to morrow I'll see thee again.

Lov.

Farewel, Hal.

[Exeunt.