The souldiers fortune a comedy, acted by Their Royal Highnesses servants at the Duke's Theatre / written by Thomas Otway.

ACT. IV. (Book 4)

SCENE The Tavern. (Book 4)

Enter Beaugard, Courtine and Drawer.

Draw.

WElcome Gentlemen, very welcome Sir: will you please to walk up one pair of stairs.

Beau.

Get the great Room ready presently, carry up too a good stock of Bottles before hand, with Ice to cool our Wine, and Wa∣ter to refresh our Glasses.

Draw.

It shall be done Sir; Coming, coming there, Coming: speak up in the Dolphin some body.

Beau.

Ah Courtine, must we be always idle I must we never see our glorious days again? when shall we be rowling in the Lands of Milk and Honey▪ incampt in large luxuriant Vineyards, where the load∣ded Vines Cluster about our Tents, drink the rich Juice, just prest from the plump Grape, feeding on all the fragrant golden Fruit that grow in fertile Climes, and ripen'd by the earliest vigour of the Sun.

Court.

Ah Beaugard! those days have been, but now we must re∣solve to content our selves at an humble rate: methinks it is not un∣pleasant to consider how I have seen thee in a large Pavillion; drowning the heat of the day in Campagne Wines, sparkling sweet as those charming Beauties, whose dear remembrance every glass recorded, with half a dozen honest Fellows more, Friends Beaugard, faithful hearty Friends, things as hard to meet with as preferment here: Fellows that would speak truth boldly, and were proud on't, that scorn'd flattery, love'd honesty; for 'twas their portion, and never yet learn'd the Trade of case and lying, but now.—

Beau.

Ay, now we are at home in our natural Hives, and sleep like Drones; but there's a Gentleman on the other side the Water, that may make work for us all one day.

Gour.

But in the mean while—

Beau.

In the mean while patience, Courtine, that is the English mans Vertue: Go to the man that ows you money, and tell him your are necessitated, his answer shall be, a little patience I beseech you, Sir: Ask a Cowardly Rascal satisfaction for a sordid injury done you, he shall cry, alas a day, Sir, you are the strangest Man living, you won't have patience to hear one speak: Co•••• 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to a great Man that you want preferment, that you have forsa•••• ••••••side∣rable advantages abroad, in obedience to publick 〈◊〉〈◊〉 all you shall get of him is this, you must have patience, Sir.

Court.

But will patience feed me, or cloath me, or kee•• 〈◊〉〈◊〉

Beau.

Prithee no more hints of Poverty: 'tis scandalous,'s Death I wou'd as soon chuse to hear a Souldier brag as complain, dost thou want any Money?

Court.

True indeed I want no necessaries to keep me alive; but I do not enjoy my self with that freedom I wou'd do, there is no more pleasure in living at stint, then there is in living alone. I wou'd have it in my power (when he needed me) to serve and assist my Friend, I would to my Ability deal handsomely too be the VVoman that pleased me.

Beau.

Oh ••fy for shame! you wou'd be a VVhoremaster, Friend, go, go, I'l have no more to do with you.

Court.

I wou'd not be forced neither at any time to avoid a Gen∣tleman that had obliged me, for want of Money to pay him a debt contracted in our old acquaintance, it turns my Stomach to wheadle with the Rogue I scorn when he uses me Scurvily, because he has my Name in his Shop-Book.

Beau.

As for example, to indure the familiaritys of a Rogue, that shall cock his greasy Hat in my Face, when he duns me, and at the same time vail it to an overgrown Deputy of the VVard, though a ••rowzy Fellmonger.

Court.

To be forced to concurr with his Non-sence too, and laugh at his Parish Jests.

Beau.

To use respects and ceremonies to the Milch-Cow his Wife, and praise her pretty Children, though they stink of their Mother, and are uglier than the issue of a Baboon, yet all this must be endured.

Court.

Must it Beaugard.

Beau.

And since 'tis so let's think of a Bottle.

Court.

With all my Heart, for rayling and drinking do much better together then by themselves; a private room, a trusty Friend or two, good Wine and bold Truths, are my happiness; but where's our dear Friend and intimate, Sir Iolly, this Evening.

Beau.

To deal like a friend Courtine, I parted with him but just now, he's gone to contrive me a meeting is possible this ••ight with the Woman my Soul is most fond of: I was this Evening just enter∣ing upon the Pallace of all Joy, when I met with so damnably a dis∣appointment— in short, that Plague to all Well meaning Women, the Husband came unseasonably and sorc't a poor Lover to this Heels that was fairly making his progress another way Courtine, the Story thou shalt here more at large hereafter.

Court.

A Plague on him, why didst thou not Murder the presumpti∣ous Cuckold? saucy intruding Clown? to dare to disturb a Gentleman's privacies, I would have beaten him into Sence of his trangression; injoy'd his Wife before his Face, and a taught the Dog his Duty.

Beau.

Look you Courtine, you think you are dealing with the Landlord of your Winter Quarters in Alsatia now? friend, friend,

there is a difference between a freeborn English Cuckold, and a sheaking Wittal of a Conquered Province.

Court.

Oh by all means! there ought to be a difference observed between your arbitr••ry Whoring and your limited Fornication.

Beau.

And but reason: for though we may make bold with ano∣ther mans Wife in a friendly way: yet nothing upon compulsion Dear∣heart.

Court.

And now Sir Iolly, I hope is to be the instrument of some immortal Plot, some contrivance for the good of thy body, and the old fellows soul Beaugard, for all Cuckolds go to Heaven, that's most certain.

Beau.

Sir Iolly! Why on my Conscience he thinks it as much his un∣doubted Right to be Pimp Master-General to London and Middlesex, as the Estate he possesses is, by my consent his worship should, e'en have a Pattent for it.

Court.

He is certainly the fittest for the imployment in Christen∣dome; he knows more Families by their Names and Titles, than all the Bellmen within and without the walls.

Beau.

Nay he keeps a Catalogue of the choicest Beauties about Town, illustrated with a particular account of their Age, Shape, pro∣portion, colour of Hair and Eyes, degrees of Complexion, Gunpow∣der Spots and Moles.

Court.

I wish the old Pander were bound to satisfy my experience; what marks of good nature my Sylvia has about her.

Sir Iolly.

My Captains! my Sons of Mars, and Imps of Venus! well encountred, what shall we have a sparkling Bottle or two, and use Fortune like a Jade? Beaugard you are a Rogue, you are a Dog, I hate you, get you gon, go.

Beau.

But Sir Iolly, what news from Paradise Sir Iolly? Is there any hopes I shall come there too Night!

Sir Iolly.

May be there is, may be there is not; I say let us have a Bottle, and I will say nothing else without a Bottle, after a Glass or two my Heart may open.

Court.

VVhy then we will have a Bottle Sir Iolly.

Sir Iolly.

VVill? we'l have dozens▪ and drink till we'r wise, and speak well of no body, till we are lewder than midnight-whores, and out-rail disbanded Officers.

Beau.

Only one thing more my noble Knight, and then we are entirely at thy disposal.

Sir Iolly.

Well and what's that? what's the business?

Beau.

This Friend of mine here stands in need of thy Assistance, he's damnably in Love Sir Iolly.

Sir Iolly.

In love is h•• so! in Love! 'ods my Life! is she! what's her Name? where does she live? I warrant you I know her, she's in my Table-Book I'l warrant you: Virgin, Wise, or Widdow!

[pulls out a Table-Book.

Court.

In troth Sir Iolly, that's something a difficult question, but as Virgins go now, she may pass for one of them.

Sir Iolly.

Virgin very good: let me see; Virgin: Virgin, Virgin, oh here are the Virgins, truly I meet with the sewest of this sort of any, well and the first Letter of her Name now! for a wager I guess her.

Court.

Then you must know Sir Iolly, that I love my Love with an S.

Sir Iolly.

S. S. S. Oh here are the Esses, let me consider now— Sappho.

Court.

No sir.

Sir Iolly.

Selinda.

Court.

Neither.

Sir Iolly.

Sophronia.

Court.

You must guess again I assure you.

Sir Iolly.

Silvia.

Court.

Ay, Ay, Sir Iolly, that's the fatal Name, Silvia the fair, the witty, the ill-natured, do you know her my Friend?

Sir Iolly.

Know her? Why she is my Daughter, and I have adopt∣ed her these seven years: Silvia, let me look; Light Brown Hair, her Face Oval and Roman, quick sparkling Eyes, plump pregnant Ruby Lips, with a Mole on her Breast, and the perfect likeness of a Heart-Cherry on her left Knee; Ah Villain! Ah sly Cap! have I caught you; are you there i'faith? well and what says she? is she coming? do her Eyes betray her? does her Heart beat, and her Bubbies rise, when you talk to her, hah?—

Beau.

Look you sir Iolly, all things considered, it may make a shift to come to a Marriage in time.—

Sir Iolly.

I'l have nothing to do in it, I won't be seen in the business of Matrimony; make me a Match-maker? a filthy Marriage Bro∣ker, Sir I scorn, I know better things; look you Friend, to carry her a Letter from you or so, upon good Terms, though it be in a Church I'l deliver it, or when the business is come to an issue, if I may bring you handsomely together, and so forth; I'l serve thee with all my Soul; and thank thee into the bargain: thank thee heartily dear Rogue, I will you little Cock-sparrow, faith and troth I will; but no Matrimony Friend, I'l have nothing to do with Matrimony; 'tis damn'd invention worse than a Monopoly, and a destroyer of civil correspondence.

Enter Drawer.

Drawer.

Gentlemen your room is ready, your VVine and I••e up∣on the Table, will your Ho••ours please to walk in?

Sir Iolly.

Ay wine, wine, give us wine, a pox on Matrimony, Ma∣trimony in the Devils name.

Court.

But if an honest Harlot or two chance to enquire for us Friend.

Sir Iolly.

Right Sirrah, if Whores come never so many, give 'em re∣verence, and reception, but nothing else, let nothing but Whores and Bottles come near us, as you tender your Ears.

[they go within the Scene where is discover'd Table and Bottles.

Beau.

Why there's, there's the land of Canaan now in little, hark you, Drawer, Dog, shut, shut the Door Syrrah, do you hear, shut it so close, that neither cares, nor necessitys may peep in upon us.

[Enter Sir Davy, Fourbin and Bloody Bones, Drawer.]

Fourbin.

Bloody-bones be you sure to behave your self handsomely and like your profession, shew your self a Cut-Throat of parts, and wee'l fleece him.

Blood.

My Lady says, We must be expeditious, Sir Iolly has giv'n notice to the Capt. by this time, so that nothing is wanting but the management of this oven-grown Gull to make us Hectors at large, and keep the Whore Fortune under.

Drawer.

Welcome Gentlemen, very welcome Sir, wil't please you to walk into a Room? or shall I wait upon your Honours pleasure here.

Sir Da.

Sweet heart let us be private, and bring us Wine hither, so—

[sits down.

From this moment, War, war; and mortal dudgeon against that e∣nemy of my Honour, and Theif of my good Name called Beaugard. you can cut a Throat upon occasion you say Freind.

Fourbin.

Sir cutting of Throats is my Hereditary vocation, my Fa∣ther was hang'd for cutting of Throats before me, and my Mother for cutting of Purses.

Sir Da.

No▪ more to be said, my Courage is mounted like a little French-man upon a great Horse; and I'l have him murder'd.

Fourbin.

Sir, Murder'd you say Sir?

Sir Da.

Ay Murder'd I say Sir, his Face slay'd off, and nayl'd to a post in my great Hall in the Countrey, amongst all the other Tro∣phies of wild Beasts slain by our Family since the Conquest: there's never a Whore-Masters head there yet.

Fourbin.

Sir for that let me recommend this worthy Friend of mine to your Service, he's an industrious Gentleman and one that will deserve your Favour.

Sir Da.

He looks but somthing ruggedly though methinks.

Fourbin.

But Sir his Parts will attone for his Person: forms and fashions are the least of his study: he affects a sort of Phylosophical negligence indeed, but Sir make trial of him, and you'l find him a Person fit for the work of this World.

Sir Da.

What trade are you Freind?

Blood.

No trade at all Freind, I profess Murder: Rascally Butchers make a trade on't, tis a Gentlemans Divertisement.

Sir Da.

Do you profess Murder.

Blood.

Yes sir, 'tis my Livelyhood: I keep a Wife and six Chil∣dren by it.

Sir Da.

Then Sir here's to you withal my Heart; wou'd I had done with these Fellows.

Fourb.

Well Sir if you have any Service for us; I desire we may re∣ceive your Gold and your instructions so soon as is possible.

Sir Da.

Soft and fair Sweetheart, I love to see a little how I lay out my Money: have you very good trading now a days in your way Freind?

Blood.

In peaceable times a man may eat and drink comfortably upon't, a private Murder done handsomely is worth Money: but now that the Nation's unsettled there are so many general undertakers▪ that 'tis grown almost a Monopoly, you may have a man Murder'd almost for little or nothing and no Lady e'r know who did it nei∣ther.

Sir Da.

Pray what Country man are you? where were you born most Noble Sir?

Blood.

Indeed my Country is Forreign, I was Born in Argier; my Mother was an Apostate Greek my Father a Ranegado English Man, who by oppressing of Chistian Slaves grew Rich; for which when he lay sick, I Murder'd him one day in his Bed: made my escape to Maltha, where imbracing the Faith I had the Honour given me to command a thousand Horse aboard the Gallies of that State.

Sir Da.

Oh Lord Sir! my humble Service to you again.

Fourbin.

He tells you Sir but the naked Truth.

Sir Iolly.

I doubt it not in the least most worthy Sir: these are de∣vilish ••ellows I'l warrant 'em

[Aside.

Fourb.

War Friend, and shining Honour has bin our Province, till rusty peace▪ reduced us to this base obscurity, Ah Bloody Bones! Ah when thou and I commanded that party as the Seige of Philipsburgh! where in the Face of the Army wee took the impenetrable half Moon.

Blood.

Half Moon Sir! by your Favour 'twas a whole Moon.

Fourbin.

Brother thou art in the right, 'twas a full Moon, and such a Moon Sir!—

Sir Da.

I doubt it not in the least Gentlemen, but in the mean∣while to our business.

Fourbin.

With all my Heart so soon as you please.

Sir Da.

Do you know this Beaugard, he's a devlish fellow I can tell you but that, he's a Captain.

Fourbin.

Has he a Heart think you Sir?

Sir Da.

Oh like a Lion! he fears neither God, Man, nor Devil.

Blood.

I'l bring it you for your Breakfast to Morrow, did you ne∣ver eat a Mans Heart Sir?

Sir Da.

Eat a Mans Heart Friend!

Fourb.

Ah, Ay, a Mans Heart Sir, it makes absolutely the best Raggoust in the World: I have eaten forty of 'em in my time with∣out Bread.

Sir Dav.

Oh Lord! a Mans Heart! my humble service to you Both Gentlemen.

Blood.

Why your Algerine Pirates eat nothing else at sea, they have them always potted up like Venison, your well-grown Dutch∣mans Heart makes an excellent Dish with Oyl and Pepper.

Sir Dav.

Oh Lord! oh Lord! Friend, Friend, a word with you: how much must you and your Companion have to do this business?

Fourb.

What and bring you the Heart home to your house?

Sir Dav.

No, no, keeping the Heart for your own eating, I'l be rid of 'em as soon as possible I can.

Fourb.

You say Sir he's a Gentleman?—

Sir Dav.

Ay such a sort of Gentleman as are about this Town: the Fellow has a pretty handsome outside, but I believe little or no money in his Pockets.

Fourb.

Therefore we are like to have the honour to receive the more from your Worships bounty.

Blood.

For my part I care for no mans bounty: I expect to have my bargain perform'ed, and I'l make as good a one as I can.

Sir Dav.

Look you Friend,: don't you be angry Friend, don't be angry Friend before you have occasion: you say you'l have— let's see how much will you have now—I warrant the Devil and all by your good will.

Fourb.

Truely Sir David if as you say, the Man must be well mur∣der'd without any remorse or mercy, betwixt Turk and Jew it is honestly worth two hundred pounds.

Sir Dav.

Two hundred pounds! Why I'l have a Physitian shall kill a whole Family for half the money.

Blood.

Damme Sir, how do yemean?

Sir Dav.

Damme Sir how do I mean? Damme Sir not to part with my mony.

Blood.

Not part Brother!

Fourb.

Brother the Wight is improveable, and this must not be born withal.

Blood.

Have I for this dissolu'd Cir••ean Charms? broke Iron du∣rance: whilst from these firm Legs the well fil'd useless Fetters dropt away, and left me Master of my native freedom.

Sir Dav.

What, what does he mean now?

Fourb.

Truely Sir I am sorry to see it with all my heart, 'tis a di∣straction that frequently seizes him, though I am sorry it should hap∣pen so unluckily at this time.

Sir Dav.

Distracted say you! is he so apt to be distracted?

Fourb.

Oh Sir rageing mad: we that live by Murder are all so: Guilt will never let us sleep. I beseech you Sir stand clear of him, he's apt to be very mischievous at these unfortunate hours.

Blood.

Have I been drunk with tender Infants blood? and ript up teeming Wombs? Have these bold hands ransackt the Temples of the Gods, and stab'd the Priests before their Altars? Have I done this? hah!

Sir Dav.

No Sir, not that I know Sir, I would not say any such thing for all the World Sir, worthy Gentleman, I beseech you Sir, you seem to be a civil person: I beseech you Sir to mitigate his passion, I'l do any thing in the World, you shall command my whole Estate.

Fourb.

Nay after all Sir, if you have not a ming to have him quite murder'd, if a swinging drubbing to bed-rid him or, so, will serve your turn, you may have it at a cheaper rate a great deal.

Sir Dav.

Truly Sir, with all my heart, for methinks now I con∣sider matters better, I would not by any means be guilty of another mans blood.

Fourb.

Why then let me consider—to have him beaten substan∣tially, a beating that will stick by him, will cost you—half the money.

Sir Dav.

What one hundred pounds! Sure the Devil's in you, or you would not be so unconscionable.

Blood.

The Devil! where? where is the Devil? shew me; I'l tell thee Belz••bub thou hast broke thy Covenant, didst thou not promise me eternal plenty, when I resign'd my Soul to thy allure∣ments'

Sir Dav.

Ah Lord!

Blood.

Touch me not yet: I've yet ten thousand Murders to Act before I'm thine: with all those sins I'l come with full damnation to thy Caverns of endless pain and houl with thee for ever.

Sir Dav.

Bless us! what will become of this mortal Body of mine? Where am I? Is this a house? do I live? am I Flesh and Blood?

Blood.

There, there's the Feind again! don't chatter so, and grin at me, if thou must needs have prey, take here, take him, this Tempter that would bribe me with shining Gold, to stain my hands with new iniquity.

Sir Dav.

Stand off I charge thee Stain, wheresoe'r thou art, thou hast no right nor claim to me, I'l have thee bound in Necromantick Charms. Heark you Friend, has the Gentleman gi∣ven Soul to the Devil?

Fourb.

Only pawn'd it a little: that's all.

Sir Dav.

Let me beseech you Sir to dispatch, and get rid of him as soon as you can. I would gladly drink a Bottle with you Sir, but I hate the Devils Company mortally, as for the hundred pound here, here it is ready, no more words, I'l submit to your good nature and d••scretion.

Fourb.

Then Wretch take this and make thy peace with the in∣fernal King, he loves Riches, sacrifice and be at rest.

Blood.

'Tis done: I'l follow thee, lead on, nay if thou smile, I more defy thee▪ Eee, Fa, Fum.

[Exit.

Fourb.

'Tis very odd this.

Sir Dav.

Very odd indeed I'm glad he's gone though.

Fourb.

Now Sir, if you please we'l refresh our selves with a chear∣ful glass, and so Chaque un chez lui—I would fain make the Gull drunk a little to put a little mettle into him▪

Sir Dav.

With all my heart Sir, but no more words of the Devil, if you love me.

Fourb.

The Devil's an Ass Sir, and here's a Health to all those that defy the Devil

Sir Dav.

With all my heart, and all his works too.

Fourb.

Nay Sir, you must do me right I assure you.

Sir Dav.

Not so full, I not so full, that's too much of all Con∣science: in 〈◊〉〈◊〉 Friend these are sad times, very sad times: but here's to you.

Fourb.

Po•• o' the times, the times are well enough so long as a man has money in his Pocket.

Sir Dav.

'Tis true, here I have been bargaining with you about a Murder, but never consider that Idolatry is coming in full speed up∣on the Nation, pray what Religion are you of Friend?

Fourb.

What Religion am I of sir? Sir your humble Servant.

Sir Dav.

Truly a good Conscience is a great happiness; and so I'l pledg you, hemph, hemph, but shan't the Dog be Murdered this Night.

Fourb.

My Brother Rogue is gon by this time to set him, and the business shall be done effectually I'l warrant you, here's rest his soul.

Sir Dav.

With all my Heart Faith, I hate to be uncharitable.

Enter Courtine, and Drawer.

Cour.

Look you 'tis a very impudent thing not to be drunk by this time, shall Rogues stay in Taverns to sip Pints, and be Sober, when honest Gentlemen are drunk by Gallons, I'll have none on't.

Sir Da.

Oh Lord, whose's there?

[Sit up in his Chair.

Drawer.

I beseech your Honour, our house will be utterly ruin'd by this means.

Cour.

Damne your house, your Wife and Children, and all your Family, you Dog!

Beau.

Sir, who are you.

[To Sir David.

Sir Da.

Who am I Sir? what's that to you, Sir? will you tickle my Foot you Rouge!

Cour.

I'll tickle your Guts you Paultroon presently.

Sir Da.

Tickle my guts you Mad-Cap, I'll tickle your Toby if you do.

Cour.

What with that circumsis'd Band? That grave hypocryti∣tal Beard of the reformation Cut? Old Fellow, I believe your a Rogue.

Sir Da.

Sirrah you are a Whore, an errant Bitch-Whore, I'll use you like a Whore, I'll kiss you, you Jade, I'll Ravish you, you Buttuck, I am a Justice of the Peace, Sirrah, and that's worse.

Court

Dam you, Sir, I care not if you were a Constable and all his Watch; what, such a Rogue as you send honest Fellows to pri∣son, and countenance Whores in your Jurisdiction for bribery, you Mongrel, I'll beat you, Sirrah, I'll brain you, I'll murder you, you Moon-Calf.

[Throws the Chairs after him.

Sir Da.

Sir, Sir, Sir, Constable, Watch, stokes, stokes, stokes, murder—

[Ex.

Caur.

Huzza, Beaugard!

[Enter Beaugard, Sir Jolly.

Four.

Well, Sir, the busiuefs is done, we have bargain'd to Mur∣der you.

Beau.

Murder'd! whose to be murder'd? ha, Fourbin!

Sir Iol.

You are to be murder'd, Friend, you shall be murder'd, Friend.

Beau.

But how am I to be murder'd? Who's to murder me, I be∣seech you?

Four.

Your humble Servant, Fourbin, I am the man with your wor∣ships leave, Sir David, has given me this gold to do it handsomely.

Beau.

Sir David! uncharitable Cur, what Murder an honest Fel∣low for being Civil to his Family? What can this mean Gentlemen?

Sir Iol.

No 'tis for not being Civil to his Family, that it means Gentleman, therefore are yo•• to be murder'd to Night, and buri∣ed a Bed with my Lady, you Jack Straw, you.

Beau.

I understand you Friends, the old Gentleman has design'd to have me butcher'd and you have kindly contriv'd to turn it to my advantage in the affair of Love, I am to be murder'd but as it were Gentlemen, hah!

Four.

Your Honour has a piercing Judgment: Sir, Captain Courtines gone.

Beau.

No matter let him go, he has a design to put in practice this Night too, and would perhaps but spoil ours; but when, Sir Iolly, is this business to be brought about.

Sir Iol.

Presently, 'tis more then time 'twere done already, go, get you gone I say▪ hold, hold, let's see your left Ear first, hum— ha—you are a Rogue, y'are a Rogue, get you gone, get you gone, go.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Covent-Garden Piazza.

Enter Sylvia and Maid in the Balcony.

Maid.

But why Madam, will you use him so inhumanly? I'm confident he loves you.

Sylv.

Oh! a true Lover is to be found out like a true Saint, by the Trial of his patience; have you the Cords ready.

Maid.

Here they are, Madam.

Sylv.

Letv 'em down, and be sure what it comes to Trial, to pull lustily; is Will. the Footman ready.

Will.

At your Ladiships command, Madam.

Sylv.

I wonder he should stay so long, the Clock has struck twelve.

Enter Courtine.

Court.

Sings.

And was she not frank and free▪ And was she not kind to me. To lock up her Cat in her Cupboard, And give her key to me, to me: To lock up her Cat in her Cupboard, And give her key to me.

Sylv.

This must be he: Ay 'tis he, and as I am a Virgin roaring drunk; but if I find not a way to make him sober—

Court.

Here, here's the Window: Ay, that's Hell-door, and my damnation's in the inside: Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia: Dear Imp of Sa∣tan appear to thy Servant.

Sylv.

Who calls on Sylvia in this dead of night, when rest is wan∣ting to her longing eyes.

Cour.

'Tis a poor wretch can hardly stand upright drunk with thy Love, and if he falls he lies.

Sylv.

Courtine, is't you?

Court.

Yes, Sweet-Heart 'tis I, art thou ready for me?

Sylv.

Fasten your self to that Cord there; there, there it is.

Court.

Cord! where? Oh, oh, here, here, so now to Heav'n in a string.

Sylv.

Have you done.

Court.

Yes, I have done Child, and wou'd sain be doing too Hussy.

Sylv.

Then pull away, hoa up, hoa up, hoa up, so avast there, Sir.

Court.

Madam.

Sylv.

Are you very much in Love, Sir?

Court.

Oh damnably Child, damnably.

Sylv.

I'm sorry for't with all my heart, good Night Captain.

Court.

Ha gone, what left in Erasinus Paradice between Heav'n and Hell? If the Constable should take me now for a stragling Mon∣key hung by the Loins, and hunt me with his cry of Watchmen! Ah Woman, Woman, Woman, well a merry Life, and a short, that's all.

Sings.

God prosper long our Noble King, Our Lives and Safeties all. I am mighty loyal to Night.

Enter Fourbin, and Bloody-bones as from Sir Davids House.

Fourb.

Murder, Murder, Murder! help, help, Murder.

Court.

Nay, if there be murder stirring, 'tis high time to shift formy self.

[Climbs up to the Balcony.

Sylv.

(Squeaking,)

A h h h h!

Blood.

Yonder, yonder he comes murder, murder, murder.

[Ex. Blood, and Fourbin.

Enter Sir David.

Sir Da.

'Tis very Late; but Murder is a melancholly business, and Night is fit for't, I'll go home.

[Knocks.

Verm.

Who's there?

Sir Da.

Whose there? open the door you Whelp of Babylon.

Verm.

Oh Sir, y'are Welcome home; but here is the saddest news! here has been murder committed, Sir.

Sir Da.

Hold your Tongue you Fool, and go to sleep, get you in do you hear, you talk of Murder you Rogue? you meddle with State-Affairs? Get you in.

The Scene opens the middle of the House and discovers Sir Jolly and the Lady putting Beaugard in order as if he were dead.

Sir Iol.

Ly still, ly still you Knave, close, close when I bid you, you had best quest, and spoil the sport, you had!

Beau.

But pray how long must I lye thus?

Lady D.

I'll warrant you, you'll think the time mighty tedious.

Beau.

Sweet Creature, who can counterfeit Death when you are near him?

Sir Iol.

You shall Sirrah, if a body desires you a little, so you shall, we shall spoil all else, all will be spoil'd else Man, if you do not: Stretch out longer, longer yet, as long as ever you can, so so, hold your breath, hold your breath, very well.

[Enter Maid.

Mai.

Madam, here comes Sir David.

Sir Iol.

Odds so, now close again as I told you, close you Divel, now stir if you dare; stir but any part about you if you dare now; odd I hit you such a rap if you do, lye still, lye you still.

[Enter Sir David.

Sir Da.

My Dear, how dost thou do, my Dear? I am come.

Lady D.

Ah Sir! what is't y'ave done? Y'ave ruin'd me, your Fa∣mily, your Fortune, all is ruin'd, where shall we go, or whither shall we flye?

Sir Da.

Where shall we go, why we'll go to bed you little Jack∣adandy, why you are not a Wench you Rogue, you are a Bo••, a very Boy, and I love you the bet••er for't, Sirrah hei!—

Lady D.

Ah Sir, see there.

Sir Da.

Bless us, a man! and bloody! what upon my Hall Table!

Lady D.

Two Ruffians brought him in just now pronouncing the inhumane deed, was done by your command, Sir Iolly came in the distracting Minu••e, or sure I had dy'd with my distracting Fears, how could you think on a revenge so horrid?

Sir Da.

As I hope to be sav'd Neighbour I only bargain'd with 'em ••o Bastinado him in a way, or so, as one Friend might do another, but do you say that he is dead?

Sir Iol.

Dead, dead as Clay; stark stiff and useless all, nothing a∣bout him stirring, but all's cold and still, I knew him a lusty Fellow once, a very metteled Fellow, 'tis a thousand pitties.

Sir Da.

What shall I do? I'll throw my self upon him, kiss his wide wounds and weep till blind as Buzzard.

Lady D.

Oh come not near him, there's such horrid Antipathy follows all murders, his wounds would stream afresh shou'd you but touch him.

Sir Da.

Dear Neighbour, Dearest Neighbour, Friend, Sir Iolly as you love Charity pity my wretched Case, and give me Counsell,

I'l give my Wife and all my Estate to have him live again, or shall I bury him in the Arbour at the upper end of the Garden.

Sir Iol.

Alas a day Neighbour, never think on't, never think on't, the dogs will find him there, as they scrape holes to bury bones in, there is but one way that I know of.

Sir Da.

What is it dear Neighbour, what is it? you see I am up∣on my knees to you, take all I have and ease me of my fears.

Sir Iol.

Truly the best thing that I can think of, is putting of him to bed, putting him into a warm bed, and try to fetch him to life again, a warm bed is the best thing in the World, my Lady may do much too, she's a good Woman, and as Iv'e been told, understands a green wound well.

Sir Da.

My dear, my dear, my dear!

Lady D.

Bear me away, oh send me hence far off, where my un∣happy name may be a stranger; and this sad accident no more re∣member'd to my dishonour.

Sir Da.

Ah but my Love! my Joy! are there no bowels in thee.

Lady D.

What would you have me do?

Sir Da.

Prithee do so much as try thy skill, there may be one drachm of life left in him yet, take him up to thy Chamber, put him into thy own bed, and try what thou canst do with him; prithee do, if thou canst but find motion in him, all may be well yet, I'l go up to my Closet in the Garret, and say my prayers in the mean while.

Lady D.

Will ye then leave this ruine on my hands.

Sir Da.

Pray, pray my Dear, I beseech you Neighbour help to perswade her if it be possible.

Sir Iol.

Faith Madam do, try what you can do, I have a great fansie you may do him good: who can tell but you may have the gift of stroaking; pray Madam be perswaded.

Lady D.

I'l do what e'r's your pleasure.

Sir Da.

That's my best Dea••: I'l go to my Closet and pray for thee heartily, Alas, alas, that ever this should happen—

Exit.

Beaug.

So, is he gone, Madam my Angel!

Sir Iol.

What no thanks, no reward for old Iolly now? Come hither Hussie, you little Canary -bird, you little Hop o' my thumb come hither: make me a Court'sie, and give me a kiss now, hah! give me a kiss I say, odd I will have a kiss, so I will, I will have a kiss if I set on't; shoogh, shoogh, shoogh, get you into a corner when I bid you, shoogh, shoogh, shoogh, what there already?

[She goes to Beaugard.

Well, I ha' done, I ha' done, this 'tis to be an old Fellow now.

Beau.

And will you save the life of him y'ave wounded?

Lady D.

Dare you trust your self to my skill for a cure?

[Sir Davy appears at a Window above.

Sir Iol.

Hist! hist! close, close, I say again, yonder's Sir Davy, odds so!

Sir Da.

My dear, my dear! my dear!—

Lady D.

Whose that calls? my Love, is't you.

Sir Da.

Ah some comfort, or my heart's broke▪ is there any hopes yet? I've try'd to say my Prayers and cannot: if he be quite dead▪ I shall never pray again; Neighbour, no hopes?

Sir Iol.

Truly little or none, some small pulse I think there is left, very little, there's nothing to be done if you don't pray, get you to prayers, what ever you do, get you gone, nay don't stay now, shut the Window I tell you.

Sir Da.

Well this is a great trouble to me, but good night.

Sir Iol.

Good night to you dear Neighbour. Get ye up

[to Beaugard and Lady D.]

get ye up and be gone into the next room, presently, make haste: but don't steal away till I come to you, be sure ye remember, don't ye stir till I come; Pish, none of this bowing and fooling, it but loses time, I'l only bolt the door that belongs to Sir Davy's Lodgings, that he may be safe, and he with you in a twinkle, Ah, h, h, h! so now for the door, very well, Friend you are fast.

[Bolts the door.

Sings.

Bonney Lass gan thou wert mine, And twonty thoosand poonds aboot thee, &c.