The Scots figgaries, or, A knot of knaves a comedy.

ACT. V. (Book 5)

Enter Iocky, and Billy.

Billy.

BRed, thos Anglish ar Deeles, w'are aw lost men; Aw oour knavery is oout, nen wull tack oour parts; Tha Ceteson•• hong thare heds doown lick bull rushes, an won noot bien sen for us.

Iock.

Hoow cam thay in tha Deeles namsa aw o won mind? Ise sur Ise ded whot Ise cud toll mack 'um ••et on oder ta deeth; tha Deele feere 'um, thar lick Serpans that gif ye smit 'um asunder wull joyne agen.

Enter Scarefoole with his sword drawn.

Scar.

W'are aw lost, sheft, sheft, tha Deeles a comming toll tare tha Covnant sha yeer heeles, sha yeere heeles, spang awey sirs, spang awey.

Exit running.

Ioc.

On's gif tha men o War flee, what sall we hid our sells— Aw sir; sir.

Enter Resolution with 2 or 3.

Reso.

Take them into your Custody, they are Your lawfull prize.

Exit.

Bil.

A sirs, a sirs, geod feith wees ment ne bad.

1 Soul.

What Mr Doctors! have we found ye? who can cure the Citizen of his head ach but the Scotch Doctors? who their wives of the Tooth-ach but the Scotch Doctors? the Scotch Doctor is all in all, the Kirke will take no Physick but of the Scotch Doctor; the Country will be cheated by none but by the Scotch Doctor; the Court and Gentry will be begger'd by none but the beggerly Scotch Do∣ctors; come away and be hang'd.

Exeunt.

Ioc. Bil.

Mercy sirs, Mercy, Mercy, Mercy.

Enter Scarefoole running with his Sword drawn.

Scar.

Hawd, hawd, hawd sir.

[he trembles.

Resolu.

Nay, I don't intend To take th' advantage of you as I may, I owe a greater honour to true valour; I have heard Nobly of your Countrymen, And therefore to assure my selfe Report Lies not, I have expos'd my Person to This single hazard.

[he trembles.

Scar.

A sir▪ I dee leov you.

Resol.

And I shall love you too, if that I find You prove as Gallant as y'ave spoke your selfe: Consider what dependances are on you, Whom y'ave involv'd by your large promises To this Engagement; let them see you dare Do something for their money.

Scar.

Be me saw sir

Y'are a mickle Gallant mon, Ise thra me swerd an hert at your non feet sir.

Resol.

That's base, not Souldierlike; submissiveness In this Case speakes you Coward, and if so, My breath has been ill spent; what, will you fight?

Scar.

Noot a neustye sir, geod feith I leove a Anglish mon wy aw my hert. A sir, A sir, send aw reight, send aw reight—her tack me weppon, Ise your non Prisoner sir geod feith.

[He offers his sword.

Resol.

Since thou art so base, And not fit for a Noble Treaty, take This, this, and this.

[kicks him.

Scar.

A geod sir, use me like a Gentlmen.

Resol.

A Gentleman, a Swineheard, hangye, go,

[kicks him.

The Bubbles broke, the wind gave Being to.

Exeunt.

Within.

Y'are welcome Gentlemen, shew a Roome there Boy.

Enter Trapheire, Witwud, Townshift, and Drawer.

Tra.

Sirrah, there will some Gentlemen aske for us, Direct 'em hither.

Draw.

I shall sir; what's your wine?

Town.

Sack, Boy, the quickning sack; and such Tobacco

As may inspire a spirit into clay, Quick, and as sharpe as lightning.

Wit.

Oh good sir, I can't endure to think upon a storme; Talk not of lightning, it does bode some quarrelling; The calmest language is the best, when there's A peace intended.

[Enter Drawforth, Pinckcarcase, Wantwit, and Drawer with wine.

Tra.

Here they come; now Coz For your honour seeme somewhat averse To an agreement; carry your selfe stoutly, With an unalter'd Countenance.

Wit.

'Tis not in The power of humane frailty.

Tra.

—Gallants, welcome; Y'are men I see for Credit.

Want.

What must I say?

Drawf

Carry your selfe manly.

Want.

What would I give now for an Inch of manhood; How he does eye me; would I had a look

[Drawf Tra. Town, and Pinck whisper.

But halfe so piercing, I'de encounter then With Basilisks; It carries daggers in't Will penetrate a Coat of Male; there is

[Witwud and Wantwit stare at one another.

No safety but in distance.

Wit.

How he looks at me! With such a hungry countenance, as though He meant to satisfie himselfe upon me; But if he knew but what a peece of flesh He had to deale with, hee'd not be so greedy; I was not cut out for a Royster; sure Nature ne'r meant me for the field, unless To call my Cattle home, or try my hounds. I am so great an enemy to a sword I weare none when I ride; Oh, how yon fellow Would spurne me, like a Mushrome, could he get Me but alone; but he shall be hang'd first.

Tra.

What, all this while and speake not to each other? Why, you have hearts of Oake: Not bow, deare Coz!

Wit.

I cannot help it.

Town.

Come, we must have you friends.

Want.

With all my heart sir.

Wit.

How's this? the man's bewitcht; See what the Gold can doe!

Wit.

If you please sir, I am your humble servant.

Tra.

And what say you Coz?

Wit.

Hum, I smelt, 'tis so, The fellow is a Coward on my life. Are they not all so? 'tis a blessing then.

Drawf.

Come sir, our friend is willing to passe by All the affronts you gave him, if you'l wave His Challenge.

Wit.

Ile wave nothing but my Sword Against my Enemy.

Town.

Shall we be friends?

Wit.

A friendly bloūd runs not yet currant in me; Be challenged by a dunghill Cock? I scorne it.

Tra.

Why, this is rare! Coz, Ile spit in thy mouth.

Pinc.

Sir, 'tis your friends desire aswell as ours To prevent bloudshed.

Wit.

—Let such things as you, That dare not waste their bloud be sparing on't; For my part, Ile not value if he Tap From me a Pailefull.

Tra.

Who the Devill Conjur'd Up such a spirit in him?

Pinc.

Your friend's grown— Take him down, or by this light Ile kick him.

Tra.

Pough, let me alone for that.

Want.

The Gentleman grows angry, Ile be gon.

[to Drawforth.

Drawf.

Hang him, a Coward, a meere Coward, friend▪

Want.

How, a coward! he speakes not like one; I would his hands were ty'd behind him, I Would make a triall on't; but he has teeth Strong as the tusks of Boares, and legs more stiff And big then any Bedspost, I should do no good upon him.

Tra.

Come Coz, throw

Your Ranting habit off, the Scene of War Is past, and now put on your Robe of Amity, The Bride-garment of Peace.

Wit.

—Peace! who shall peace? 'Tis sawciness to tell me so.

Tra.

How's this! You worme! 'slight, if I lay my hands Upon you once, Ile teare you into nothing▪ You Cowardly simple Puppy. Sirra, Ile—

[he takes him by the shoulder.

Wit.

Not so loud good Coz; You know I have but follow'd your directions.

Tra.

Be hang'd, and overdone it, ha'n't you sirrah? The Gentlemen shall know you have not spirit To look a Cat in th'face, if that you ben't More sociable.

Wit.

—Good Cozen, Ile do any thing.

Tra.

Well, I have brought him to't with much adoe;

[takes Want.

Here, shake hands, sir; you must be friends.

by the hand and brings him to Witwud.

Wit.

Well, if I must, I must, patience is a vertue, And Ile embrace it—I am your friend sir.

Want.

I shall never be your foe sir.

Wit.

So said, and so done sir, will do well.

Tra.

The Rascall acts it handsomly.

Pinc.

To your credit: Ours is the silliest Rogue.

Drawf.

Boy, more wine;

[Enter Drawer.

Would we had Musicke here to celebrate This Nuptiall.

Draw.

I will send for some.

Tra.

Do so; come, here's to the Married Couple.

Wit.

I do beleeve we both can't got a Boy

[Enter Fidlers.

Will prove a Souldier.

Pinc.

Ah sirrah, are you there?

Fid.

I am your own man sin.

Pinc.

Let's have a good Ayre, but drink first.

Town.

Drinke about Gallants, what the Musick duls you; Hast e're a new song fellow?

Fid.

Yes, of the Scots comming into England.

Tra.

That, that by all meanes.

Fid.

Please you to heare me—'tis but a Ballad put to One of their own tunes.

Pinc.

The better, the better, let's hear't.

Song.

CAm lend, lend y'ar lugs Ioes, an Ise speeke a song, Sing he heom agen Iocky, sing heom agen Iocky. O hes bonny deeds, an hes prowes emong; Sing heom agen, heom agen, O valent Iocky.

Sirs Iocky's a Mon held o mickle Note, Sing heom agen▪ Iocky, &c. The breech o tha Covnant stuck in hes throte; Sing heom agen, heom agen, &c.

For Iocky wes riteous, whilke ye wad admire; Sing heom agen, &c. He fooght for the Kirke, bet a plunder'd tha Quire; Sing heom agen, heom agen, &c.

An Iocky waxt roth an toll Anglond a cam, Sing heom agen, &c. Ero whance he'd returne, bet a lack a is Lam; Sing heom agen, &c.

An Iocky wes armed fro top toll toe, Sing heom agen, &c. Wia powre o Men, anth' are geod Deuke I tro; Sing heom agen, &c.

Sa valent I wis thay wer, an sa prat, Sing heom agen Iocky; &c. Ne cock nor hen durst stond in their gat; Sing heom agen, heom, &c.

In every streete thay ded sa flutter, Sing heom agen, &c. Ne Child dorst shaw hes bred an butter; Sing heom agen, &c.

Noow whan oour ferces thay herd on o're night, Sing heom agen, &c. Next morne they harnest themsels for a fight; Sing heom agen, &c.

Thare Deuke was tha mon that wad be sen stoote, Sing heom agen &c. He feec•• us a while, stret twurn'd Arss aboot; Sing heom agen, &c.

Our men that ater these valent Scot went, Sing heom agen, &c. Had ner fond him oout bet by a strong sent. Sing heom agen heom agen, o valent Iocky.

Tra.

Ha, ha, ha! it's good enough for the subject,

[Enter Drawer.

Pinc.

Drinke about, drinke about; More wine Boy; Here Witwud to thee.

Town.

Let's discharge the Musick.

Wit.

With all my heart.

Town.

There ye Rascals.

Fid.

Thanke you Gentlemen.

Exeunt Fidlars.

Drawf.

Trapheire to thee.

Tra.

Let it come, a Pint and thou darst.

Pinc.

Art mad, Trapheire is drunke enough, hee'l be Not'company for a Dog immediately.

Tra.

To your Mightiness sir.

Pinc.

I shall pledge your Highness sir—to you sir.

Wit.

Excuse me pray sir, I am almost spent.

Pinc.

Not pledge me!

Tra.

No, he shall not pledge you sir; What then? he is my friend.

Pinc.

But why should he Be more excus'd then ours? will you drinke for him?

Tra.

Not, neither sir.

Pinc.

Then he shall pledge me sir.

Tra.

He shall not sir.

Town.

Nay Trapheire, what dost meane?

[Pinc. throwes the Pot at him.

Tra.

Hang him turd—Are you good at that sir? I shall returne you Answer by this Messenger.

[Drawes.

Wit.

Good Coz no fighting; I will drink a Gallon Rather than lose one drop of bloud—It is Too pretious for the floore to drinke.

[Enter Drawer.

Draw.

Gentlemen your noise has drawn Souldiers into the house, th'a••e comming up; as many as can get into that little Closet,

Pinc.

I would not be in custody for a Million; The Rode, the Rode—

[Tra. Pinc. Town, and Drawf. yet in.

Drawf.

That's all our faults, in, in.

Wit.

Where shall we be?

Enter Souldiers.

Soul.

Where's all these Huffs—what you two make this noise? hurle Pots, breake Glasses, you are youths indeed; Is this a time of night for you to rant in? come you must with us.

Exeunt.

Want.

Nay good Gentlemen.

Enter Drawer.

Draw.

Gentlemen, you may come forth, the coast is cleare.

Tra.

Where's the two Gentlemen?

Draw.

They have ta'ne 'em with 'em.

Pinc

Did they pay the Reckoning.

Draw.

No sir.

Tra.

A pox upon you, why did you not aske'em for't?

Draw.

I durst not sir, for feare they should say, the rest of their Company was above.

Pinc.

'Tis right, the Devil's on't, this was your doing Trapheire, Will you pay the Reckoning now?

Tra.

Not a penny, Ile keepe unto my Oath, throw who shall dip or pay if you will.

[Townshift throwes.

Pinck.

Here's Dice, throw—twelve, hang ye Rascall

[Pinc. thro.

Now my Chance—'tis passable—throw.

[Drawf. throwes.

Draw.

Mine is the worst.

Tra.

But mine's the worst of all—Sirrah Boy will you take this Cloake for your Reckoning?

Draw.

I know not sir whether I shall or not.

Tra.

You shall not sir, now, you know, as long as such Spankers last; what's to pay?

[shews his money,

Draw.

But thirty shillings sir.

Tra.

Death! but thirty saiest thou? well, there 'tis; I shall be even with some body.

Town.

Why, this was handsome Trapheire.

Exeunt.

Enter 2 or 3 Servitors.

Ser.

Make roome for the Magistrates; The Prisoners

Enter Do-much, Surebold, Resolution, Scare∣foole, Iocky, Billy, Smallfaith, and his Wife, Soonegul'd and his Wife, Anything, Downfall, Worn-out, Seminary, Pub∣lique Notary.

There—

Do.

Which are The Prisoners?

Resol.

These sir.

Ioc. Bil.

Mercy, mercy, Master Judge.

Sure.

What are those?

Resol.

The subjects on the which these Villaines practis'd their subtilties and deceits; first, I shall tender my Charge against 'em, then produce my evidence.

Doe.

Very well, very well, proceed.

Resol.

In briefe (Sir) then they have infected most Part of this Nation; here's a thing, A man of Reputation once, and bore

[Pointing to Smal.

A place amongst you.

Sure.

I do pitty him.

Resol.

And now is fit for no place except Bedlam: Here is another, a man you would think

[to Anything

The Devill could not worke upon, and yet These Scotch ones have. The Lawyer, father of Contrivances, is noos'd in one himselfe; He cannot stand without his Crutches, and His head's so light his nose is every minute Ready to touch the ground.

Sure.

What is that Gentleman?

[To Worn-out.

Resol.

Do you conceive him one? have they left ought Upon him like a Creature? may we sweare He is a perfect man, no Ghost? 'tis hard. The hurryings he has had with sleepless eyes, Continuall Purgations, Bleedings, what not, That they could but invent to bring him low;

He's all's left of a Courtier, and deserves Your pitty; there's no double doores betwixt His heart now, and your eyes; he's so transparent You may see through him. Tis not these alone Th'ave brought to this, but all the Country people, Both Common sort, and Gentry.

Do.

What say you for yourselves?

Ioc. Bil.

Mercy, mercy, mercy, wees leove tha Anglish mickle weele.

Sure.

Yes, it appeares so; weele requite your Loves, But cannot say, with your own Coyne, because You never were worth any, but wee'le find A way to pay you home.

Resol.

When they had thus Spread their infection, they begin to thinke Their safety would not last without the Souldier; And to that end and purpose does perswade The giddy People, which they had before Distemper'd, with their Poysons, to receive This man of Feather, as their grand Protector: They take him, and to Covenant they go; Two hundred thousand pounds! (a sum would buy Their Kingdome) must be raised and paid to them.

Do.

Very fine.

Resol.

But marke sir the event, I am resolv'd to open what they did For all this Money.

Do.

'Twill do well indeed.

Resol.

They gave a peece of Paper, in the which Were strange things promis'd then, As if that all The Courage of the world contracted were In their, and but their Nation.

Sure.

And what found you?

Reso.

I now proceed to that; I found'um sir, Like Bull-rushes, that tremble if the wind But blow on them, they run and tumbl'd o're The necks of one another, like to tiles

A storme forces from houses tops; this any thing But man, who own'd the name of their Protector, In the most abject'st manner, and beneath, The Spirit of a man, threw at my feet. His Sword, and himselfe too, on single tearmes, Without a stroke; Scarefoole they call him, and They must be Citizens or none that feare him; A Rat shall make him run to his own Country.

Scare.

Ise a Gentlemon sir, mind ye me? Ise gange toll me non Contre wy aw me hert gif ye wul.

Sure.

Not in such haste sir, wee'l reserve you for Another purpose—take him hence to prison.

Scare.

The faw Deele fier thot tong.

[he is carried off.

Reso.

What thinke you sir that Paper, cost so much, Is worth in weight? here's one will tell you sir.

Pub. No.

I am a publike Notary by profession, And dare speake nothing but the truth; the wager Past on this Gentlemans side, the Popes Bull weighed, It down by much, the other was not worth In weight a Penny loafe.

Omnes.

Ha, ha, ha!

Sure.

But what make you here sir?

Sem.

Not to do harme sir.

Do.

Stay not here upon Your perill sir, your Bulls have too long tailes.

Sem.

I stay but for a winde sir.

Exit Seminary.

Soon.

I must confess we have been much deluded, Cheated, and Cozen'd by these perjur'd Scots, Under the shew of zeale and honesty.

Lay.

Hang 'em Rogues, they complaine they are pillaged, you made 'em not bare enough sirs, you should have taken their skins off too, they would have made monsters of us, but truly my husband is a Naturall man, and I am his own wife; I hope you do not thinke we are otherwise than we should be.

Mrs Smal.

I have a husband here too, helpe his head, he was a Man once, and I was a Woman, as this Gentleman the Courtier knew well enough, but now I am no-body, thanke yo•• pick-purses;

Pray spare 'em not, I'm sure they would not spare me when time was, do what I could.

Sure.

Take them hence, there will be order shortly To pack 'em to some forraigne parts, they are But Caterpillers, and what place soe're They come at will be th' worse for't; take 'em hence.

Ioc. Bil.

A mercy, mercy, mercy.

Exeunt Scots.

Omnes.

You have done Justice.

Sure.

Y'ave seene these Scots desected, Gentlemen, And what d' you find 'em now to be, but Rascals? Meere Mountebanks, that has instead of Cure Bred strange Diseases, and distempers 'mongst you; Juglers, that look'd you in the face, and told You a fine tale, to keepe your senses busie, While they did pick your Pockets.

Lay.

Our Pockets say you sir? I, and something else too, could They have come at it; but soft, soft, two words to a bargain.

Sure.

Master Smallfaith, we shall do what lies in us, Upon your Recantation, to bring You into favour with the Common Wealth, And seat you as before, as Capable Of her Preferment.

Smal.

I thanke you.

His Wife.

Blessing on your hearts.

Sure.

We make the same profession sir to you, On the like tearmes. You may do much Upon the giddy People, by th' example Of your own Reformation.

Any.

Sir, I shall Do what befits an honest man (abus'd) And servant to the Common Wealth.

Do.

And you sir, Are not exempted here the benefit Of favour if you will take hold of it.

Soone.

I thanke you.

Lay.

I, and hold it fast husband; had I a good thing to handle, I'd make much on't a long time I warrant you.

Sure.

As for these Gentlemen here, Master Downfall, And Master Worn-out, we shall do our best To set the one upon his legs agen; And restore th' other, though not to his full Ability, yet to a health contentable.

Down. Worn.

We are your servants.

Sure.

When all our minds and hearts are firmly knit, Let the Scot do his worst, by Sword or Wit.

Exeunt.

FINIS.