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 Tertius.

Enter Lady, Wildbraine, Women, Toby,

La.

THou art the most unfortunate fellow;

Wil.

Why Aunt what have I done?

La.

The most malicious varlet, Thy wicked head never at rest, but hammering, And haching h••llish things, and to no purpose, So thou maist have thy base will.

Wi.

Why doe you raile thus? Cannot a scurvy accident fall out, But I must be at one end on't?

La.

Thou art at both ends.

Wi.

Cannot young sullen wenches play the fools, And marry, and die, but I must be the agent? All that I did (and if that be an injury, Let the world judge it) was but to perswade her, (And as I take it) I was bound to it too, To make the reverend coxecombe her husband Cuckold: What else could I advise her, was there harme i' this? You are of yeares, and have runne through experience, Would you be content if you were young agen, To have a continuall cough grow to your pillow, A rottennesse, that vaults are perfumes to Hang in youre roofe, and like a fogge infect you; Anointed hammes to keepe his hinges turning

Reck ever in your nose, and twenty night caps, With twenty several sweats.

To.

Some Jew, some Justice, A thousand heathen smels to say truth Madam, And would you mellow my young pretty Mistresse In such a mis-ken?

La.

Sirra, Where's the body of my Girle?

Wi.

I know not, I am no Conjurer, you may look the body, I was like to be stoln away my self, the Spirit Had like to ha surpris'd me in the shape of a woman, Of a young woman, and you know those are dangerous.

To.

So had I Madam, simply though I stand here, I had been ravish'd too: I had twenty Spirits In every corner of the house a Fiend met me.

La.

You lie like raskals, Was Mistresse Newlove such a Spirit sir To fright your worship; Well, I discharge you sir, ye'are now at libertie, Live where you please, and do what pranks you fancy, You know your substance, though you are my Nephew, I am no way bound sir to protect your mischief; So fare you well.

Wi.

Farewell good Aunt, I thank you, Adi••w honest Nick, the devil if he have power, Will persecute your old bones, for this marriage, Farewel Mistresse Win.

To.

And shall we part with dry lips; Shall we that have been fellow devils together Flench for an old womans fart?

Wi.

Tis a fine time a night too, but we must part Nick.

To.

Shall we never ring again? ne're tosse the tenor, And roul the changes in a Cup of Claret? You shall not want what ere I lay my hands on, As I am sure Automedon the Coachman, Shall be distributed; bear up, I say, hang sorrow, Give me that bird abroad that lives at pleasure, Sam the Butle••s true, the Cook a reverend Trojan,

The Faulkner shall sell his Hawkes, and swear they were rotten, There be some wandring spoons, that may be met with, Ile pawn a Coach horse, peace, utter no sentences. The harnesse shall be us'd in our warres also; Or shall I drive her) tell me but your will now, Say but the word) over some rotten bridg, Or by a Marle pit side, she may slip in daintily, Let me alone for my self.

Wi.

No, no, farewel Toby, Farewel spinie Nicholas, no such thing, There be wayes i'the world, if you see me A day or two hence, may be weel'le crack a quart yet, And pull a bell, commend to the houshold; Nay, cry not Toby 'twill make thy head giddy.

To.

Sweet Master Wildbrain••.

Wi.

No more Toby, go, the times may alter— But where's the coarse of my dead cosen, (If she be dead) I hop'd 'thad but dissembled That sits heavy here: Toby, honest Toby, Lend me thy Lanthorn, I forgot 'twas dark, I had need look to my wayes now.

To.

Take a lodging with me to night in the Stable, And ride away to morrow with one of the horses Next your heart, pray do.

Wi.

No, good night good neighbour Toby, I will wander, I scorn to submit my self, ere I have rambled, But whether, or with what, that's more material; No matter, and the worst come it is but stealing, And my Aunt won'ot see me hang'd for her own credit, And farewel in a halter costs me nothing.

Exit.

Enter Hartlove.

Fran.

The night, and all the evils the night covers, The Goblins, Hagges, and the black spawne of darknesse, Cannot fright me, no death, I dare thy cruelty. For I am weary both of life and light too; Keep my wits heaven, they say spirits appear To melancholly minds, and the graves open, I would fain see the fair Maria's shadow, But speak unto her spirit ere I dyed,

But ask upon my knees a mercy from her; I was a villain, but her wretched Kinsman, That set his plot, shall with his heart blood satisfie Her injur'd life and honor, what lights this?

Enter Wildbrain with a Lanthorn.

Wil.

It is but melancholy walking thus; The Tavern doors are baracado'd too, Where I might drink till morn in expectation; I cannot meet the Watch neither; nothing in The likenesse of Constable, whom I might In my distresse abuse, and so be carried, For want of other lodging, to the Counter.

Fra.

Tis his voyce, Fate, I thanke thee.

Wi.

Ha, who's that, and thou beest a man speak? Franke Heartlove, then I bear my destinies, Thou art the man of all the world I wish'd for; My Aunt has turn'd me out a doores, she has, At this unchristian houre, and I doe walke, Me thinks, like Guido Faux with my darke Lanthorn, Stealing to set the towne a fire; ith' country I should be tane for William o' the Wispe, Or Robin Good fellow, and how dost Frank?

Ha.

The worse for you.

Wi.

Come, thar'•• a foole, art going to thy lodging? Ile lie with thee to night, and tell thee stories, How many devills we ha met withal; Our house is haunted Franke, whole legions, I saw fiftie for my share.

Fr.

Didst not fright e'm?

Wi.

How, fright e'm? no they frighted me fufficiently.

Fr.

Thou hadst wickednesse enough to make them stare, And be afraid o'thee, malicious devil; And draw thy sword, for by Marias soule; I will not let thee scape to do more mischiefe.

Wi.

Thou art mad, what dost meane?

Fr.

To kill thee, nothing else will ease my anger, The injury is fresh, I bleede with all, Nor can that word expresse it, there's no peace in't, Nor must it be forgiven but in death;

Therefore call up thy valour if thou'st any, And summon up thy spirits to defend thee; Thy heart must suffer for thy damn'd practises, Against thy noble cosen, and my innocence.

Wi.

Hold, heare a word; did I doe any thing But for your good, that you might have her, That in that desperate time I might redeeme her, Although with shew of losse.

Fr.

Out ugly villaine, Fling on her the most hated name of Whore To the worlds eye, and face it out in courtesie, Bring him to see't and make me drunke to attempt it.

Enter Maria.

Ma.

I heare some voyces this way.

Fr.

No more, if you can pray, doe it as you fight.

Ma.

What new frights oppose me? I have heard that tongue.

Wi.

Tis my fortune, You could not take me in a better time sir, I ha nothing to lose, but the love I lent thee, My life my sword protect.

Ma.

I know'em both, but to prevent their ruines, Must not discover—stay men most desperate; The mischiefe you are forward to commit Will keepe me from my grave, and tie my spirit To endlesse troubles else.

Wi.

Ha, tis her Ghost.

Fr.

Maria.

Ma.

Heare me both, each wound you make Runnes through my soule, and is a new death to me, Each threatning danger will affright my rest; Looke on me Hartlove, and my kinsman view me; Was I not late in my unhappy marriage, Sufficient miserable? full of all misfortunes? But you must adde with your most impious angers Unto my sleeping dust this insolence? Would you teach time to speake eternally Of my disgraces; make Records to ••eep'em, Keep them in brass? fight then, and kill my honor; Fight deadly both, and let your bloody swords, Through my reviv'd, and reeking infamy (That never shall be purg'd) finde your owne ruines:

Hartlove, I lov'd thee once, and hop'd again In a more blessed love to meet thy spirit, If thou kil'st him, thou art a murtherer, And murther shall never inherit heaven: My time is come, my concealed grave expects me, Farewel, and follow not, your feet are bloody, And will pollute my peace: I hope they are melted, This is my way sure.

Exit.

Fr.

Stay blessed soul.

Wi.

VVould she had come sooner, and ha sav'd some blood.

Fr.

Dost bleed?

Wi.

Yes certainly, I can both see and feel it.

Fr.

Now I well hope it is not dangerous; Give me thy hand, as honor guides me, Ile know thee again.

Exit.

Wi.

I thank thee heartily; I know not where to get a Surgeon; This vision troubles me, sure she is living, And I was foolish blind, I could not find it; I bleed apace still, and my heart grows heavy, If I go far I faint, Ile knock at this house, They may be charitable, would t'were perfect day.

Enter Mistresse.

Mi.

Tis not he? What would you sir?

Wi.

I would crave a little rest Lady, And for my hurts some Surgerie, I am a Gentleman That Fortune of a fight—

Mi.

A handsome Gentleman, Alas he bleeds, a very handsome Gentleman,

Wil.

A sweet young wench, beshrow my heart a fair one; Fortune has made me some recompence,

Mi.

Pray come in; the air is hurtful for you Pray let me lead you, Ile have a bed for you presently, Ile be your Surgeon too, alas sweet Gentleman.

Wi.

I feel no hurts, the morning comes too fast now.

Mi.

Sostly I beseech you.

Exit.

Enter Lady and Toby.

To.

He is not up yet Madam, what mean't you To come forth so early?

La.

You block head; Yo••r eyes are sow'd up still, they cannot see When it is day: oh my poor Maria;

Where be the women?

To.

They said they would follow us.

La.

He shall not laugh thus at my misery, And kill my child, and steal away her body, And keep her Portion too.

To.

Let him be hang'd for't, You have my voice.

La.

These women not come yet? A sonne in law, Ile keep a Conjurer, But Ile find out his knavery.

To.

Do, and Ile help him. And if he were here this whip should conjure him, Here's a capias, and it catch hold on's breech, Ide make him soon beleeve the Devil were there.

La.

An old Usurer.

To.

He married the mony, thats all he lookt for, For your daughter, let her sink or swim.

La.

Ile swim him; This is his house, I wonder they stay thus, That we might raise him out on's wits.

To.

They'le come, Fear not Madam, and bring clappers with 'em Or some have lost their old wont, I have heard No disparagement to your Ladiship, some o'their tongues Like Tom a Lincolne three miles off.

La.

Oh fie, How tedious are they?

To.

What and we lost no time, You and I shall make a shift to begin with him, And tune our Instruments, till the consort come To make up the full noise, Ile knock.

Iu.

Who's that? rapt so sawcily?

To.

Tis I, Toby, come down, or else we'le fetch you down, Alas, this is but the Sauncebell, here's a Gentlewoman Will ring you another peal, come down, I say.

Iu.

Some new fortifications, look to my doors, Put double barres, I will not have her enter, Nor any of her Tribe, they come to terrefie me: Keep out her tongue too if you can.

La.

I hear you,

And I will send my tongue up to your worship, The Eccho of it shall flye o're the streete; My Daughter, that thou killedst with kindnesse (Jew) That thou betrayedst to death, thou double Jew, And after stol'st her body.

To.

Iew's too good for him.

Iu.

I defie you both; Thy daughter plaid the villaine and betray'd me: Betray'd my honor.

La.

Honor, Rascal, And let that bear an action, Ile try it with thee, Honor?

To.

Oh Reprobate!

La.

Thou mustie Iustice, Buy an honourable halter, and hang thy selfe.

To.

A worshipful ropes end is too good for him.

La.

Get honor that way, thou wot die a dogge else.

To.

Come and be whipt first.

La.

Where is her Portion.

Enter Nurse and women.

Iu.

Where Ile keepe it safely.

Nur.

Traitor, thou shalt not keep it.

Iu.

More of the kennel? put more bolts to'th doores there, And arme your selves, hell is broke loose upon us.

To.

I am glad y'are come, weele blow the house down.

La.

Oh Nurse, I haue such cause—

Wo.

Villaine, viper, although you had no cause, we are bound To helpe.

Nur.

Yes, and beleeve, we come not here to examine, And if you please weele fire the house

Iu.

Call the Constable.

To.

A charitable motion, fire is comfortable.

La.

No no, wele only let him know ou•• minds, We will commit no outrage, he's a Lawyer,

Iu.

Give me my musket.

La.

Where's my daughters body, That I may bury it?

Wo.

Speak, or weele bury thee.

Nur.

Alive weele bury thee, speak old Iniquitie.

To.

Bury him alive by all meanes for a testimony.

Iu.

Their voyces make my house reel, oh for Officers,

I am in a dreame, thy daughters spirit Walkes a nights, and troubles all the neighbours; Goe hire a Conjurer, Ile say no more.

La.

The Law shall say more,

Wo. Nur.

We are witnesses, And if thou beest not hang'd—

Enter Lurcher, and Boy.

Lur.

Buy a book of good manners, A short Book of good manners.

Boy.

Buy a ballad, a ballad of the maid was got with child

To.

That might ha beene my case last night, Ile ha't what ere it cost me.

Boy

A ballad of the witches hang'd at Ludlow.

To.

I will have that too; There was an Aunt of mine, I thinke amongst e'm, I would be glad to heare her Testament.

Lur.

A new book of women,

Iu.

The thunders laid, how they stare at him

Lur.

A new book of fooles, a strange book, Very strange fooles.

Iu.

Ile owe thee a good turne what e••'e thou art.

Lur.

A book of walking spirits.

Iu.

That I like not.

To.

Nor I, they walk'd me the fooles morris.

Lur.

A book of wicked women.

Iu.

Thats well thought on.

Lur.

Of rude malicious women, of proud women, Of scolding, women, we shall nere get in.

Boy.

A ballad of wrong'd Maides.

La.

Ile buy that.

Lur.

A little very little book. Of good and godly women, a very little one, So little, you may put it in a nutshel.

To.

with a small print, that no body can read it.

Nur.

Peace sirra, or Ile teare your books.

Iu.

Open the doore, and let him in, I love him

Lur.

A book of evil Magistrates.

La.

I marry, dee hear that Justice.

Lur.

And their eviller wives, That weare their places in their peticotes.

Ju.

Dee you hear that Lady.

Boy.

A book new printed, against Playing, Dancing, Masking, May-poles; a zealous Brothers book, And full of Fables.

Lur.

Another book of women, of mad women, Women that were born in March.

Exit.

La.

Are you got in? We would ha pul'd your knaves hide else; this fellow Was sent to abuse us, but we shall have time To talk more with this Justice.

Ju.

Farewel Madam, as you like this come visit me agen, You and your treble strings, now scold your hearts out—

Wo.

Shall he carry it thus away?

Nur.

Go to the Judg, and what you'le have us swear—

La.

I thank ye heartily, Ile keep that for the last, I will go home, And leave him to his Conscience for a while, If it sleep long, Ile wake it with a vengeance.

Exit.

Enter Servants.

1.

What book has he given thee?

2.

A dainty book, a book of the great Navy, Of fifteen hundred ships of Canon proof, Built upon Whales to keep their keels from sinking; And Dragons in'em, that spit fire ten mile; And Elephants that carry goodly castles.

1.

Dost thou beleeve it?

2.

Shall we not beleeve books in Print?

1.

I have John Taylors book of Hempseed too, Which for two lines I hapned on by chance, I reverence.

2.

I prethee what are they?

1.

They are so put upon the time, as if He studied to answer the late Hist••iomastix, Talking of change and transformations, That wittily, and learnedly he bangs him, So many a Puritans ruffe, though starched in Print, Be turn'd to Paper, and a Play writ in't: A Play in the Puritans ruf••e? Ile buy his Works for't, And consute Horace with a Water Poet: What hast there a ballad too?

2.

This is a pecce of Poetry indeed;

He sings; Justice cries within.

What noise is that?

1.

Some cry ith' streets; prethee sing on.

Sing again.

2.

Agen, dost not hear? 'tis ith' house certainly?

1.

Tis a strange noise? and has a tang o'the Justice.

2.

Lets see?

Exit.

Enter the Servants bringing in their Master bound and gag'd.

1.

Untie his feet, pull out his gag, he will choak else; What desperate rogues were these.

2.

Give him fresh air.

Ju.

I will never study books more; I am undone, these villains have undone me. Rifled my Desk, they have undone me learnedly; A fire take all their books, Ile burn my Study: Where were you rascals when the villains bound me, You could not hear.

1.

He gave us books sir, dainty books to busie us; And we were reading in that which was the Brewhouse; A great way off, we were singing ballads too, And could not hear.

Ju.

This was a precious theef, A subtle trick to keep my servants safe.

2.

What ha you lost sir?

Ju.

They ransack'd all before my face, and threatned To kill me, if I congh'd, they have a chain, My rings, my box of casting gold, my pu••se too, They rob'd me miserably; but that which most grieves me, They took away some writings; twas a Rogue That knew me, and set on by the old Lady, I will indite her for't.

1.

Shall we pursue 'em?

Ju.

Run, run, cursed raskals, I am out of my wits, let not a creature in, No not with necessaries.

2.

We shall be starv'd.

Ju.

Ile buy my meat at window, as they passe by; I wonot trust my Scrivenor, he has books too; And bread Ile ha slung up; I charge ye all Burn all the books i'th house.

1.

Your little Prayer book?

Iu.

Ile never pray agen, ile have my doores Made up, nothing but walls, and thicke ones too; No sound shall tempt me a gen, remember I Have for swoare bookes,

2.

If you should be call'd to take your oath.

Iu.

I will forswear all oaths, rather than see A thing but in the likenesse of a booke: And I were condemn'd, Ile rather chuse to hang, Than read agen; come in, and search all places, They may be about the house, were the doores lock'd?

1.

But the keyes in 'em, and if they be gone, They could not want wit to lock us in sir.

Iu.

Never was man so miserably undone, I would lose a limbe to see their rogueships totter.

Exeunt.

Enter Lady and Nurse.

La.

Thy brothers daughter, saist, and born in Wales?

Nur.

I have long time desired to see her, and I hope Your Ladiship will not be offended.

La.

No, no.

Nur.

I should be happy if she might be serviceable To you Madam.

La.

Beshrow me, but at first, she took me much, Is she not like Maria? setting aside Her language very like her, and I love her The better for't, I prethee call her hither, She speakes feat English.

Nur.

Why Guennith, Guennith, du hummah Guenneth; She is course Madam, after her country guise, And were she in fine clothes—

La.

Ile have her handsome:

Enter Maria.

What part of Wales were you borne in?

Ma.

In Abehundis Madams.

Nur.

She speakes that name in Welsh, which we call Breck∣nocke

La.

What can you do?

Ma.

Her was toe many tings in Walls, know not the fashion in Londons? her was milk the Cowes, make seeze and butters, and spinne very well the Welsh freeze, her was Cooke to te Mountain cots, and sing very fine prittish tunes was mage good ales and breds, and her know to dance on Sundayes, marge you now Madams.

La.

A pretty innocence, I doe like her infinitely, Nurse, And if I live—

Enter Servant.

Ser.

Here is Mr. Hartlove, Madam come to see you.

La.

Alas poore Gentleman, prethee admit him.

Enter Hartlove and Gent.

Ha.

Madam, I am come to take my last leave.

La.

How sir?

Ha.

Of all my home affections, and my friends, For the interest you had once in Maria, I would ••cquaint you when I leave the kingdome.

La.

Would there were any thing in my poore power That might divert your will, and make you happy; I am sure I haue wrong'd her too, but let your pardon Assure me you are charitable; shee's dead Which makes us both sad: What do you look on? The likest face—

Ma.

Plesse us awle, why does that sentilman make such unders and mazements at her, I know her not.

Ha.

Be not offended maid.

La.

How the Wench blushes, shee represents Marias losse to him.

Ma.

Will the sentilman hurt her, pray you be her defences, was haue mad phisnomies, is her troubled with Lunaticks in her praine pans, blesse us awle.

Ha.

Where had you this face?

Ma.

Her faces be our none I warrant her.

Ha,

I wonot hurt you, all the lineaments That built Maria up; all those springing beauties Dwell on this thing, change but her tongue I know her: Let me see your hand.

Ma.

Du Guin, was never theeves, and robberies; here is no sindge in her hands warrant her.

Ha.

Trust me, the self-same white, And softnesse, prethee speak our English Dialect.

Ma.

Haleggs? what does her speage hard urds to her, to make poore Guennith ridicles, was no mannerly sentilman to a∣buse her

Ha.

By the love, That everlasting love I bare Maria—

Ma.

Maria, her name was Guenith, and good names, was poore else, oman maide, her have no fine kanags to madge her tricksie, yet in her owne cuntries was held a fine ense her can tels her, and honest ense too, marg you dat now, her can keepe her little legges close enough warrant her.

La.

How pretily this anger shewes.

1.

She gabbles innocently.

Ha.

Madam farewell, and all good fortune dwell w'ee, With me my owne affections; farwell maid, Faire gentle maide.

2

She sighes.

Ma.

Du cat a whee.

Ha.

I cannot goe, theres somwhat calls me backe.

Ma.

Poore Franke, How gladly would I entertaine thy love, And meet thy worthy flame, but shame forbids, me:

If please her Ladyship dwell here with Guenneth, and learne to spinne and card ull, to mage flannells, and linseyes ulseis, sall tawgco'd urds to her Ladyships urships for her.

The teares flow from him,

The teares of true affection, woe is me, O cursed love that glories in maids miseries, And true mens broken hearts.

La.

Alas I pitty him, the wench is rude, and knowes you not, forgive her.

Ma.

Wyne your nyes pray you, though was porne in Walls 'mong craggy rocks, and mountaines yet heart is soft, looke you, hur can weepe too, when hur see men mage prinie teares and la∣mentations.

Ha.

How hard she holds me? Just as Maria did, weepes the same drops, Now as I have a living soule, her sight too; What shall I thinke, is not your name Maria, If it be not, delude me with so much charity To say it is.

Ma.

Vpon her life, you was mightie deal in love with some ••odies, your pale seekes and hollow nyes, and pantings upon ••er posome, know very well, because looke you, her thinke her honest sentilman, you sall call her Maria.

Ha.

Good Madam, thinke not ill I am thus sawcie,

La.

Oh no sir, be you not angry with the wench.

Ha.

I am most pleas'd.

1.

Lets interrupt him, hee'l be mad outright else.

2.

Observe a little more.

Ha.

Would I could in your language beg a kisse,

Ma.

If her have necessities of a kisse, looke you, dere is one in sarities.

Ha.

Let me suffer death, If in my apprehension two twinnd cherries Be more a kin, then her lips to Marias; And if this harsh illusion would but leave her, She were the same, good Madam, shall I have Your consent now.

La.

To what?

Ha.

To give this Virgin to me.

La.

She's not mine, this is her Kinswoman, And has more power to dispose; alas, I pitty him. Pray gentleman prevaile with him to goe; More that I wish his comfort than his absence.

Ha.

You have beene alwayes kind to me, will you Denie me your faire Cousen.

Nu.

'Twere fit you first obtain'd her own consent.

Ha.

He is no friende that wishes my departure, I doe not trouble you.

1.

Tis not Maria.

Ha.

Her shadow is enough, Ile dwell with that, Persue your owne wayes, shall we live together;

Ma.

If her will come tomorrow and tauge to her, her will tell her more of her meanings, and then if her be melancholy, her will sing her a Welch song too, to make her merries, but Guenith was very honest; her was never love but one sentle∣man, and he was beare her great teale of goodills too, was marry one day S. Davy her give her five paire of white gloves, if her will dance at her weddings.

Ha.

All I am worth, And all my hopes, this strange voyce would forsake her, For then she shud be—prethee stay a little, Harke in thine ••are, dissemble not, but tell me, And save my life; I know you are Maria: Speke but as) doe ten words to confirme me;

You have an English soule, do not disguise it From me with these strange accents—She pinch'd hard Againe, and sigh'd.

La.

What ailes the Wench?

Exit.

Nur.

Why, Gunith.

Ha.

She's gone too,

2.

Come leave this dreame.

Ha

A dreame? I thinke so; But 'twas a pleasing one, now Ile obey, And forget all these wonders, lead the way.

Exeunt.