The night-walker, or, The little thief a comedy as it was presented by Her Majesties servants at the private house in Drury-Lane / written by John Fletcher, Gent.

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Enter Tom Lurcher and Iack Wildbrain.

Lurc.

IAcke.

Wild.

What winde brought thee hither? In what hollow tree, or rotten wall Hast thou been like a Swallow all this Winter, Where hast thou been man?

Lur.

Following the Plow.

Wild.

What plow? Thou hast no Land, Stealing is thy own purchase.

Lur.

The best inheritance.

Wild.

Not in my opinion, Thou hadst five hundred pound a year.

Lur.

'Tis gone, Prethee no more on't, have I not told thee, And oftentimes, nature made all men equal, Her distribution to each child alike; Till labour came and th••••st a new Will in, Which I allow not: till men won a priviledge By that they call endeavour, which indeed Is nothing but a lawful Cosenage,

An allowed way to cheat, why should my neighbour That hath no more soul than his Horse-keeper, Nor bounteous faculties above a Broom-man, Have fourty thousand pound, and I four groats; Why should he keep it?

Will.

Thy old opinion still.

Lur.

Why should that Scrivener That ne're writ reason in his life, nor any thing That time ere gloried in, that never knew How to keep any curtesie conceal'd, But Noverint universi must proclaim it, Purchase perpetually, and I a rascal: Consider this, why should that mouldy Cobler Marry his daughter to a wealthy Merchant, And give five thousand pound, is this good justice? Because he has a tougher constitution; Can feed upon old songs, and save his money, Therefore must I go beg?

Wil.

What's this to thee? Thou canst not mend, if thou beest determin'd To rob all like a tyrant, yet take heed A keener justice do not overtake thee, And catch you in a Nooze.

Lur.

I am no Wood-cock, He that shall sit down frighted with that foolery Is not worth pity, let me alone to shuffle, Thou art for wenching.

Wil.

For beauty I, a safe course, No halter hangs in the way, I defie it.

Lur.

But a worse fate, a wilful poverty, For where thou gainst by one that indeed loves thee, A thousand will draw from thee, 'tis thy destiny; One is a kind of weeping cross Iack, A gentle purgatory, do not fling at all, You'le pay the Box so often, till you perish.

Wil.

Take you no care for that sir, 'tis my pleasure, I will imploy my wits a great deal faster Then you shall do your singers, and my Loves, If I mistake not, shall prove riper harvest And handsomer, and come within less danger. Where's thy young sister?

Lur.

I Know not where she is, she is not worth caring for, She has no wit.

Oh you'd be nibling with her, She's far enough I hope, I know not where, She's not worth caring for, a fullen thing, She wo'd not take my counsel Iack, And so I parted from her.

Wil.

Leave her to her wants?

Lur.

I gave her a little money what I could spare, She had a mind to th' Countrey, she is turn'd By this some Farriers dairy maid, I may meet her Riding from market one day 'twixt her Dorsers, If I do, by this hand I wo' not spare Her butter pence.

Wil.

Thou wilt not rob thy sister.

Lur.

She shall account me for her Egges and Cheeses.

Wil.

A pretty Girle, did not old Algript love her? A very pretty Girle she was.

Lur.

Some such thing, But he was too wise to fasten; let her pass.

Wil.

Then where's thy Mistress?

Lur.

Where you sha'not find her, Nor know what stuffe she is made on, no indeed sir, I chose her not for your use.

Wil.

Sure she is handsome.

Lur.

Yes indeed is she, she is very handsome, but that's all one.

Wil.

You'le come toth' marriage.

Lur.

Is it to day.

Wil.

Now, now, they are come from Church now.

Lur.

Any great preparation, Does Justice Algripe shew his power.

Wil.

Very glorious, and glorious people there.

Lur.

I may meet with him yet e're I dye as cunning as he is.

Wil.

You may do good Tom at the marriage, We have plate and dainty things.

Lur.

Do you no harm sir; For yet me thinks the marriage should be mar'd If thou maist have thy will, farewel, say nothing.

Exit.

Enter Gentlemen.

Wil.

You are welcome noble friends.

1.

I thank you sir,

Wil.

Nephew to the old Lady, his name is Wildbrain, And wild his best condition.

2.

I have heard of him,

Wil.

I pray ye tell me sir, is young Maria merry After her marriage rites? does she look lively?

How does she like her man?

Wil.

Very scurvely, And as untowardly she prepares her self, But 'tis mine Aunts will, that this dull mettal Must be mixt with her to allay her handsomeness.

1.

Had Heartlove no fast friends?

Wil.

His means are little, And where those littles are, as little comforts Ever keep company: I know she loves him, His memory beyond the hopes of— Beyond the Indies in his mouldy Cabinets, But 'tis her unhandsome fate.

Enter Heartlove.

1.

I am sorry for't, Here comes poor Frank, nay we are friends, start not Sir, We see you'r willow and are sorry for't, And though it be a wedding we are half mourners.

Fr.

Good Gentlemen remember not my fortunes, They are not to be help'd by words.

Wil.

Look up man, A proper sensible fellow and shrink for a Wench, Are there no more? or is she all the handsomeness?

Fr.

Prethee leave fooling.

Wil.

Prethee leave thou whining, Have maids forgot to love?

Fr.

You are injurious.

Wil.

Let 'em alone a while, thei'le follow thee.

1,

Come good Frank. Forget now, since there is no remedy, And shew a merry face, as wise men would do.

2.

Be a free guest, and think not of those passages.

Wil.

Think how to nick him home, thou knowest she dotes on thee; Graff me a dainty medler on his crabstocke; Pay me the dreaming puppy.

Fr.

Well, make your mirth, the whilst I bear my misery: Honest minds would have better thoughts.

Wil.

I am her kinsman, And love her well, am tender of her youth, Yet honest Frank, before I would have that stinkard, That walking rotten tombe, enjoy her maidenhead.

Fr.

Prethee leave mocking.

Wil.

Prethee Frank believe me, Go to consider, harke, they kn••ck to dinner.

Kn••ck within.

Come wo't thou go?

2.

I preethee Frank go with us, And laugh and dance as we do.

Fr.

You are light Gentlemen, Nothing to weigh your hearts, pray give me leave, Ile come and see, and take my leave.

Wil.

Wee'le look for you, Do not despair, I have a trick yet.

Exit.

Fr.

Yes, When I am mischievous I will believe your projects: She is gone, for ever gone, I cannot help it, My hopes and all my happiness gone with her. Gone like a pleasing dream: what mirth and jollity Raignes round about this house? how every office Sweats with new joyes, can she be merry too? Is all this pleasure set by her appointment? Sure she hath a false heart then; still they grow lowder, The old mans God, his gold, has won upon her (Light hearted Cordial gold) and all my services That offered naked truth, are clean forgotten: Yet if she were compel'd, but it cannot be, If I could but imagine her will mine,

Enter Lady and Wildbrain.

Although he had her body.

La.

He shall come in. Walk without doors o' this day, though an enemy, It must not be.

Wil.

You must compel him Madam,

La.

No she shall fetch him in, Nephew it shall be so.

Wil.

It will be fittest.

Exit.

Fr.

Can fair Maria look agen upon me? Can there be so much impudence in sweetness?

Enter Maria.

Or has she got a strong heart to defie me? She comes her self: how rich she is in Jewels! Me thinks they show like frozen Isicles, Cold winter had hung on her, how the Roses That kept continual spring within her cheeks Are witheered with old mans dull imbraces? She would speak to me. I can sigh too Lady But from a sounder heart: yes, and can weep too But 'tis for you, that ever I believ'd you,

Tears of more pious value than your marriage; You would encase your self, and I must credit you, So much my old obedience compels from me; Go, and forget me, and my poverty, I need not bid you, you are too perfect that way: But still remember that I lov'd Maria, Lov'd with a loyal love, nay turn not from me, I will not ask a treare more, you are bountiful, Go and rejoyce, and I will wait upon you That little of my life left.

Mar.

Good sir hear me, What has been done, was the act of my obedience And not my will: forc'd from me by my parents, Now 'tis done, do as I do, bear it handsomly And if there can be more society Without dishonour to my tye of marriage Or place for noble love, I shall love you still, You had the first, the last, had my will prosper'd; You talk of little time of life: dear Franke, Certain I am not married for eternity, The joy my marriage brings tells me I am mortal. And shorter liv'd then you, else I were miserable; Nor can the gold and ease his age hath brought me Adde what I coveted, content, go with me, They seek a day of joy, prethce let's show it, Though it be forc'd, and by this kiss believe me However, I must live at his command now, Ile dye at yours.

Fr.

I have enough, Ile honour ye.

Exeunt.

Enter Lurcher.

Lur.

Here are my trinkets, and this lusty marriage I mean to visit, I have shift of all sorts, And here are a thousand wheeles to set'em working, I am very merry, for I know this wedding Will yield me lusty pillage, if mad VVildgoose That debosh'd rogue keep but his antient revells, And breed a hubbub in the house I am happy.

Enter Boy.

Now what are you?

Boy.

A poor distressed Boy Sir,

Friendless and comfortless, that would entreat Some charity and kindness from your worship, I would fain serve Sir, and as fain indeavour With dutious labour to deserve the love Of that good Gentleman shall entertain me.

Lur.

A pretty boy, but of too milde a breeding, Too tender and too bashfull a behaviour, What canst thou do?

Boy

I can learn any thing, That's good and honest, and shall please Master.

Lur.

He blushes as he speaks, and that I like not, I love a bold and secure confidence, An impudence that one may trust, this boy now Had I instructed him had been a Jewel, A treasure for my use, thou canst not lye.

Boy.

I would not willingly.

Lur.

Nor thou hast not wit To dissemble neatly.

Boy.

Do you love such boyes, Sir?

Lur.

Oh mainly, mainly, I would have my boy impudent, Out-face all truth, yet do it piously: Like Proteus, cast himself into all forms, As sudden and as nimble as his thoughts, Blanch at no danger, though it be the Gallowes, Nor make no conscience of a cosonage Though it be ith' Church; your soft, demure, still children— Are good for nothing, but to get long graces— And sing songs to dull tunes; I would keep thee And cherish thee, hadst thou any active quality, And be a tender Master to thy knavery, But thou art not for my use.

Boy.

Do you speak this seriously?

Lur.

Yes indeed do I.

Boy.

Would you have your boy Sir Read in these moral mischiefs?

Lur.

Now thou mov'st me.

Boy.

And be a well train'd youth in all activities?

Lur.

By any means.

Boy.

Or do you this to try me, Fearing a proneness.

Lur.

I speake this to make thee.

Boy.

Then take me Sir, and cherish me, and love me, You have me what you would: believe me Sir I can do any thing for your advantage,

I guess at what you mean; I can can lie naturally, As easily, as I can sleep Sir, and securely: As naturally I can steal too.

Lur.

That I am glad on, Right heartily glad on, hold thee there, thou art excellent.

Boy.

Steal any thing from any body living.

Lur.

Not from thy Master.

Bo.

That's mine own body: And must not be.

Lur.

The Boy mends mightily.

Bo.

A rich man, that like snow, heaps up his moneys, I have a kind of pious zeal to meet still; A fool that not deserves 'em, I take pitty on, For fear he should run mad, and so I ease him.

Lur.

Excellent boy, and able to instruct me, Of my own nature just.

Boy.

I scorn all hazard, And on the edge of danger I do best sir, I h••ve a thousand faces to deceive, And to those twice so many tongues to flatter, An impudence, no brass was ever tougher, And for my conscience.

Lur.

Peace, I have found a Jewel, A Jewel all the Indies cannot match, And thou sha't feel—

Boy.

This title, and I ha'done sir; I never can confess, I ha' that spell on me; And such rare modesties before a Magistrate, Such Innocence to catch a Judge, such ignorance.

Lur.

Ile learn of thee, thou art mine own, come Boy, Ile give thee action presently.

Boy.

Have at you.

Lur.

What must I call thee?

Boy.

Snap sir.

Lur.

'Tis most natural, A name born to thee, sure thou art a Fairie, Shew but thy skill, and I shall make thee happie.

Enter Lady, Nurse, Mistress, Newlove, Tobie.

La.

Where be these Knaves? who strues up all the liveries. Is the brides bed made?

Tob.

Yes Madam and a bell Hung under it artificially.

La.

Out knave out, Must we have larums now?

Tob.

A little warning

That we may know when to begin our healths Madam, The Justice is a kinde of old Jade Madam, That will go mer••iest with a bell.

La.

All the house drunk.

Tob.

This is a day of Jubile.

La.

A••e the best hangings up, and the plate set out? Who makes the Posset, Nurse?

Nur.

The dairie mayd, And she••'le put that in, will make him caper: Well Madam, well, you might ha'chose another, A handsomer for your years.

La.

Peace, he is rich Nurse, He is rich, and that's beauty.

Nur.

I am sure he is rotten, Would he had been hang'd when he first saw her. Termagant!

La.

What an angry quean is this, where, Who looks to him?

Tob.

He is very merry Madam, M. Wildbrain, has him in hand, ith' bottom oth' Sellar He sighes and tipples.

Nur.

Alas good Gentleman, My heart's sore for thee.

La.

Sorrow must have his course, sirra, Give him some Sack to dry up his remembrance, How does the Bridegroom, I am afraid of him.

Nur.

He is a trim youth to be tender of, hemp take him. Must my sweet new blown Rose find such a winter Before her spring be near.

La.

Peace, peace, thou art foolish.

Nur.

And dances like a Town-top: and reels, and hobbles.

La.

Alas, good Gentleman, give him not much wine,

Tob.

He shall ha' none by my consent.

La.

Are the women comforting my daughter?

New.

Yes, yes, Madam, And reading to her a pattern of true patience, They read and pray for her too.

Nur.

They had need, Ye had better marry her to her grave a great deal: There will be peace and rest, alas poor Gentlewoman, Must she become a Nurse now in her tenderness? Well Madam, well my heart bleeds.

La.

Thou art a fool still.

Nur.

Pray heaven I be.

La.

And an old fool to be vext thus. Tis late she must to bed, go knave be merry, Drinke for a boy, away to all your charges.

Exit.

Enter Wildbrain, and Franke Heartlove.

Wil.

Do as thou wo't, but if thou dost refuse it Thou art the stupid'st asse, there's no long arguing, Time is too precious Franke.

Fr.

I am hot with wine, And apt now to believe, but if thou dost this. Out of a villany, to make me wrong her, As thou art prone enough.

Wil.

Does she not love thee? Did she not cry down-right e'en now to part with thee? Had she not swounded if I had not caught her? Canst thou have more?

Fr.

I must confess all this.

Wil.

Do not stand prating, and misdoubting, casting, If she go from thee now, she's lost for ever; Now now she's going, she that loves thee going, She whom thou lov'st.

Fr.

Pray let me think a little:

Wil.

There is no leisure; think when thou hast imbrace'd her. Can she imagine thou didst ever honour her? Ever believe thy oathes, that tamely suffer'st An old dry ham of horse-flesh to enjoy her? Enjoy her Maiden head; take but that from her That we may tell posterity a man had it, A handsome man, a gentleman, a young man, To save the honour of our house, the credit, Tis no great matter I desire.

Fr.

I hear you.

Wil.

Free us both from the fear of breeding fools And ophs, got by this shadow: we talke too long.

Fr.

She is going to bed, among the women, What opportunity can I have to meet her?

Wil.

Let me alone, hast thou a will? speak soundly, Speak discreetly, speak home and handsomely, Ist not pitty, nay misery, nay insamy to leave So rare a pie to be cut up by a raskall.

Fr.

I will go presently, now, now, I stay thee.

Wil.

Such a dainty Doe, to be taken By one that knows not necke-beefe from a Phesant, Nor cannot rellish Braggat from Ambrosia. Is it not conscience?

Fr.

Yes, yes, now I feel it.

Wil.

A meritorious thing.

Fr.

Good Father Wildgoose, I do confess it.

Wil.

Come then follow me. And pluck a mans heart up, Ile locke thee privately, Where she alone shall presently pass by, None near to interupt thee but be sure;

Fr.

I shall be sure enough, lead on, and crown me.

Wil.

No wringings in your mind now as you love me.

Ex.

Enter Lady, Maria, Iustice, Gent. Nurse, Newlove.

La.

Tis time you were a bed.

Iu.

I prethee sweet-heart Consider my necessity, why art sad? I must tell you a tale in your ear anon.

Nur.

Of Tom Thumb. I believe that will prove your stiffest story.

New.

I pitty the young wench.

1.

And so do I too.

2.

Come, old stickes take fire.

1.

But the Plague is, he'l burn out instantly; Give him another cup.

2.

Those are but flashes, A tun of sack wonot set him high enough. Will ye to bed?

M.

I must.

1.

Come, have a good heart, And win him like a bowle to lye close to you, Make your best use.

Ju.

Nay prethee Duck go instantly, Ile daunce a Jig or two to warme my body.

Enter Wildbrain.

Wil.

Tis almost midnight.

La.

Prethee to bed Maria.

Wil.

Go you afore, and let the Ladies follow, And leave her to her thoughts a while, there must be A time of taking leave of the same fooleries Bewailing others maiden-heads.

La.

Come then, We'l wait in the nex room.

Iu.

Do not tarry. For if thou dost, by my troth I shall fall asleep Mall.

Exit.

Wi.

Do, do, and dream of D••••rells, get you to bed quickly, A••d let us ha'no more stir, come no, crying, 'Tis too late now, carry your selves discreetly. The old thief loves thee dearly, thats the benefit. For the rest you must make your own play, Nay not that way, Theil pull ye all to pieces, for your whim-whams, Your garters and your gloves, go modestly, And privately steal to bed, 'tis very late Mall, For if you go by them such a new larum.

Ma.

I know not which way to avoid'em.

Wi.

This way, This through the Cloisters: and so steal to bed, When you are there once, all will separate And give ye rest, I came out of my pity To shew you this.

Ma.

I thank you.

Wi.

Here's the keyes, Go presently and lock the doors fast after ye, That none shall follow.

Ma.

Good night.

Wi.

Good night sweet Cosen, A good, and sweet night, or Ile cu••se thee Frank.

Exit.

Enter Frank Hartlove.

Fra.

She stayes long, sure young Wildgoose has abus'd me, He has made sport wi'me, I may yet get out again, And I may see his face once more, I ha foul intentions, But they are drawn on by a fouler dealing.

Enter Maria.

Hark, hark, it was the door, Something comes this way, wondrous still, and stealing May be some walking spirit to affright me.

Ma.

Oh heaven my fortune.

Fr.

'Tis her voice, stay.

Ma.

Save me, Bless me you better powers.

Fr.

I am no Devil.

Ma.

Y'are little better to disturb me now.

Fr.

My name is Hartlove.

Ma.

Fye, fye, worthy friend. Fye noble sir.

Fr.

I must talk farther with ye,

You know my fair affection.

Ma.

So preserve it, You know I am married now, for shame be civiller, Not all the earth shall make me.

Fr.

Pray walk this way, And if you ever lov'd me.

Ma.

Take heed Frank How you divert that love to hate, go home prethee.

Fr.

Shall he enjoy that sweet?

Mar.

Nay, pray unhand me.

Fr.

He that never felt what love was.

Ma.

Then I charge you stand further off.

Fr.

I am tame, but let me walk wi'ye, Talk but a minute.

M••r.

So your talk be honest, And my untainted honour suffer not; Ile walk a turn or two.

Fr.

Give me your hand then.

Exit.

Enter, Wildbrain, Iustice, Lady, Nurse, Gent. Women, Newlove.

Iust.

Shee's not in her Chamber.

La.

She is not here.

Wil.

And Ile tell you what I dream'd.

Iu.

Give me a Torch.

1. G.

Be not too hasty fir.

Wil.

Nay let him go. For if my dream be true, he must be speedy, He will be trickt, and blaz'd else.

Nur.

As I am a woman I cannot blame her if she take her liberty, Would she would make thee cuckold, thou old bully, A notorious cuckold for tormenting her.

La.

Ile hang her then.

Nur.

Ile bless her then, she does justice, Is this old stinking doggs flesh for her dyet?

Wil.

Prethee honest Nurse do not fret too much, For fear I dream youle hang your self too.

Iust.

The Cloister?

Wil.

Such was my fancy, I do not say 'tis true, Nor do I bid you be too confident.

Iu.

Where are the keyes, the keyes I say.

Wil.

I dream'd she had'••m to lock her self in.

Nur.

What a Devil do you mean?

Enter Servant.

Wil.

No harme, good Nurse be patient.

Ser.

They are not in the window, where they use to be.

Wil.

What foolish dreams are these?

Iu.

I am mad.

Wil.

I hope so, If you be not mad, Ile do my best to make yee.

1.

This is some tricke.

2.

I smell the Wildgoose.

Iu.

Come gentlemen, come quickely I beseech you, Quicke as you can, this may be your case Gentlemen. And bring some lights, some lights.

Exit.

VVil.

Move faster, faster, you I come too late else. Ile stay behind and pray for ye, I had rather she were dishonest, Than thou shouldst have her.

Enter Maria and Francke.

Mar.

Y're most unmanly. yet I have some breath left; And this steel to defend me, come near me, For if you offer but another violence, As I have life Ile kill you, if I miss that, Vpon my own heart will I execute, And let that fair beleefe out, I had of you.

Fr.

Most vertuous Maid, I have done, forgive my follies: Pardon, O pardon, I now see my wickedness, And what a monstrous shape it puts upon me, On your fair hand I seal.

Enter Iu.

Iu.

Down with the door.

Ma.

We are betraid, oh Francke, Franke,

Fr.

Ile dye for ye Rather than you shall suffer, Ile—

Iu.

Now Enter.

Enter All.

Enter sweet Gentlemen, mine eyes, mine eyes, Oh how my head akes.

1.

Is it possible?

2.

Hold her, she sinkes.

Ma.

A plot upon my honour To poyson my fair name, a studied villany. Farewell, as I have hope of peace, I am honest,

Iu.

My brains, my brains, my monstrous brains, they bud sure.

Nu.

She is gone, she is gone.

Iu.

A handsome riddance of her. Would I could as easily lose her memory.

Nur.

Is this the sweet of Marriage, have I bred thee For this reward?

1.

Hold, hold, he's desperate too.

Ju.

Be sure ye hold him fast, weele bind him over To the next Sessions, and if I can, Ile hang him.

Fr.

Nay then Ile live to be a terrour to thee, Sweet Virgin Rose farewell: heaven has thy beauty, That's onely fit for heaven. Ile live a little To find the villain out that wrought this injury, And then most blessed soul, Ile climbe up to thee. Farewell, I feel my self another creature.

Exit.

La.

Oh misery of miseries.

Nu.

I told ye Madam.

La.

Carry her in, you will pay back her portion.

Ju.

No not a penny, pay me back my credit, And Ile condition we'ye.

La.

A sad wedding, Her grave mnst be her Bridal bed, oh Mall, Would I had wed thee to thy own content, Then I had had thee still.

Ju.

I am mad, farewell, Another wanton wife will prove a hell.

Exeunt.