Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima

Enter Cunningame (at one door) Witty-Pate, Ruinous, L. Ruinous, and Priscian (at the other.)

 
Cun.
Friend, met in the harvest of our designs,
Not a thought but's busie.
 
 
Wit. I knew it Man,
And that made me provide these needful Reapers,
Hooks, Rakers, Gleaners; we'll sing it home
With a melodious Horne-pipe; this is the Bond,
That as we further in your great affair,
You'l suffer us to glean, pick up for crums,
And if we snatch a handful from the sheaf,
You will not look a churle on's.
 
 
Cun. Friend, we'll share
The sheaves of gold, only the Love Aker
Shall be peculiar.
 
 
Wit. Much good do you, Sir,
Away, you know your way, and your stay; get you
The Musick ready, while we prepare the dancers.
 
 
Ruin. We are a consort of our selves.
 
 
Pris. And can strike up lustily.
 
 
Wit. You must bring Sir Fop.
 
 
Cun. That's perfect enough.
 
 
Ruin. Bring all the Fops you can, the more, the better fare
So the proverb runs backwards.
 

[Exeunt Ruin. and Pris.

 
L. Ruin. I'll bring the Ladies.
 

[Exit.

 
Wit. Do so first, and then the Fops will follow;
I must to my Father, he must make one.
 

[Exit.

Enter two Servants with a Banquet

 
Cun. While I dispatch a business with the Knight,
And I go with you. Well sed, I thank you,
This small Banquet will furnish our few Guests
With taste and state enough; one reach my Gown.
The action craves it rather than the weather.
 
 
1 Serv. There's one stayes to speak with you, Sir.
 
 
Cun. What is he?
 
 
1 Serv. Faith I know not what, Sir, a Fool, I think,
That some Brokers shop has made half a Gentleman;
Has the name of a Worthy too.
 
 
Cun. Pompey? Is't not?
 
 
1 Ser. That's he, Sir.
 
 
Cun. Alas, poor fellow, prethee enter him, he will need too.
 

Enter second Servant with a Gown

 
He shall serve for a Witness. Oh Gramercy:
If my friend Sir Gregory comes, you know him,
 

Enter Clown

 
Entertain him kindly. Oh Master Pompey, How is't man?
 
 
Clow. 'Snails, I'm almost starv'd with Love, and cold, and one thing or other;
Has not my Lady sent for me yet?
 
 
Cun. Not that I hear, sure some unfriendly Messenger
Is imploy'd betwixt you.
 
 
Clow. I was ne'er so cold in my life, in my Conscience I have been seven mile in length, along the New River; I have seen a hundred stickle bags; I do not think but there's gudgeons too; 'twill ne'er be a true water.
 
 
Cun. Why think you so?
 
 
Clow. I warrant you, I told a thousand Millers thumbs in it, I'll make a little bold with your Sweet-meats.
 
 
Cun. And welcome Pompey.
 
 
Clow. 'Tis a strange thing, I have no taste in any thing.
 
 
Cun. Oh, that's Love, that distasts any thing but it self.
 
 
Clow. 'Tis worse than Cheese in that point, may not a Man break his word with a Lady? I could find in my heart and my hose too.
 
 
Cun. By no means, Sir, that breaks all the Laws of Love.
 
 
Clow. Well, I'll ne'er pass my word without my deed to
A Lady, while I live agen, I would fain recover my taste.
 
 
Cun. Well, I have news to tell you.
 
 
Clow. Good news, Sir?
 
 
Cun. Happy news, I help you away with a Rival your Master bestow'd.
 
 
Clow. Where, for this Plumbs sake —
 
 
Cun. Nay, listen me.
 
 
Clow. I warrant you, Sir, I have two ears to one mouth,
I hear more than I eat, I'de ne'er row by Queen Hive
While I liv'd else.
 
 
Cun. I have a Wife for him, and thou shalt witness the Contract.
 
 
Clow. The old one I hope, 'tis not the Lady?
 
 
Cun. Choak him first, 'tis one which thou shalt see,
See him, see him deceiv'd, see the deceit, only
The injunction is, you shall smile with modesty.
 
 
Clow. I'll simper I'faith, as cold as I am yet, the old one
I hope.
 

Enter Servant

 
Serv. Sir, here's Sir Gregory.
 
 
Cun. U'd so, shelter, shelter, if you be seen,
All's ravell'd out again; stand there private,
And you'll find the very opportunity
To call you forth, and place you at the Table.
 

Enter Sir Gregory

 
You are welcome, Sir, this Banquet will serve,
When it is crown'd with such a dainty as you
Expect, and must have.
 
 
Sir Greg. 'Tush, these sweet-meats are but sauce to that,
Well, if there be any honesty, or true word in a dream,
She's mine own, nay, and chang'd extreamly,
Not the same Woman.
 
 
Cun. Who, not the Lady?
 
 
Sir Greg. No, not to me, the edge of her tongue is taken off,
Gives me very good words, turn'd up-side-down to me,
And we live as quietly as two Tortoises, if she hold on,
As she began in my dream.
 

[Soft Musick.

 
Cun. Nay, if Love send forth such Predictions,
You are bound to believe 'em, there's the watch-word
Of her coming; to your practis'd part now,
If you hit it, Æquus Cupido nobis.
 

[Both go into the Gown.

 
Sir Greg. I will warrant you, Sir, I will give armes to
Your Gentry, look you forward to your business,
I am an eye behind you, place her in that Chair,
And let me alone to grope her out.
 

Enter Mirabell

 
Cun. Silence, Lady, your sweet presence illustrates
This homely roof, and, as course entertainment;
But where affections are both Host and Guest,
They cannot meet unkindly; please you sit,
Your something long stay made me unmannerly,
To place before you, you know this friend here,
He's my Guest, and more especially,
That this our meeting might not be too single,
Without a witness to't.
 
 
Mirab. I came not unresolv'd, Sir,
And when our hands are clasp'd in that firm faith
Which I expect from you; fame shall be bold
To speak the loudest on't: oh you grasp me
Somewhat too hard friend.
 
 
Cun. That's Love's eager will,
I'll touch it gentlier.
 

[Kisses her hand.

 
Mirab. That's too low in you,
Less it be doubly recompenc'd in me.
 

[She kisses his hand.

 
Clow. Puh, I must stop my mouth, I shall be choakt else.
 
 
Cun. Come, we'll not play and trifle with delayes,
We met to joyn these hands, and willingly
I cannot leave it till confirmation.
 
 
Mirab. One word first, how does your friend, kind Sir Gregory?
 
 
Cun. Why do you mention him? you love him not?
 
 
Mir. I shall love you the less if you say so, Sir,
In troth I love him, but 'tis you deceive him,
This flattering hand of yours does rob him now,
Now you steal his right from him, and I know
I shall have hate for't, his hate extreamly.
 
 
Cun. Why I thought you had not come so weakly arm'd,
Upon my life the Knight will love you for't,
Exceedingly love you, for ever love you.
 
 
Mir. I, you'll perswade me so.
 
 
Cun. Why he's my friend,
And wishes me a fortune equal with him,
I know, and dare speak it for him.
 
 
Mir. Oh, this hand betrayes him, you might remember
him in some courtesie yet at least.
 
 
Cun. I thank your help in't, here's to his health
Where e'er he be.
 
 
Mir. I'll pledge it, were it against my health.
 
 
Clow. Oh, oh, my heart hops after twelve mile a day, upon a good return, now could I walk three hundred mile a foot, and laugh forwards and backwards.
 
 
Mir. You'll take the Knights health, Sir.
 
 
Clow. Yes, yes forsooth, oh my sides! such a Banquet once a week, would make me grow fat in a fortnight.
 
 
Cun. Well, now to close our meeting, with the close
Of mutual hands and hearts, thus I begin,
Here in Heavens eye, and all loves sacred powers,
(Which in my Prayers stand propitious)
I knit this holy hand fast, and with this hand
The heart that owes this hand, ever binding
By force of this initiating Contract
Both heart and hand in love, faith, loyalty,
Estate, or what to them belongs, in all the dues,
Rights and honors of a faithful husband,
And this firm vow, henceforth till death, to stand
Irrevocable, seal'd both with heart and hand.
 
 
Mir. Which thus I second, but oh, Sir Gregory.
 
 
Cun. Agen? this interposition's ill, believe me.
 
 
Mir. Here, in Heavens eye, and all Loves sacred powers,
I knit this holy hand fast, and with this hand
The heart that owes this hand, ever binding
Both heart and hand in love, honor, loyalty,
Estate, or what to them belongs in all the dues,
Rights, and duties of a true faithful Wife;
And this firm Vow, henceforth till death, to stand,
Irrevocable, seal'd both with heart and hand.
 
 
Sir Greg. A full agreement on both parts.
 
 
Cun. I, here's witness of that.
 
 
Sir Greg. Nay, I have over-reacht you Lady, and that's much,
For any Knight in England to over-reach a Lady.
 
 
Mir. I rejoyce in my deceit, I am a Lady
Now, I thank you, Sir.
 
 
Clow. Good morrow Lady Fop.
 
 
Sir Greg. 'Snails, I'm gull'd, made a worshipful ass, this is not my Lady.
 
 
Cun. But it is Sir, and true as your dream told you,
That your Lady was become another Woman.
 
 
Sir Greg. I'll have another Lady, Sir, if there were no more Ladies in London, blind-man buff is an unlawful Game.
 
 
Cun. Come, down on your knees first, and thank your Stars.
 
 
Sir Greg. A fire of my stars, I may thank you, I think.
 
 
Cun. So you may pray for me, and honor me,
That have preserv'd you from a lasting torment,
For a perpetual comfort; Did you call me friend?
 
 
Sir Greg. I pray pardon me for that, I did miscall you, I confess.
 
 
Cun. And should I, receiving such a thankful name,
Abuse it in the act? Should I see my friend
Bafled, disgrac'd, without any reverence
To your title, to be call'd slave, rascal?
Nay curst to your face, fool'd, scorn'd, beaten down
With a womans peevish hate, yet I should stand
And suffer you to be lost, cast away?
I would have seen you buried quick first,
Your spurs of Knighthood to have wanted rowels,
And to be kickt from your heels; slave, rascall?
Hear this Tongue?
 
 
Mir. My dearest Love, sweet Knight, my Lord, my Husband.
 
 
Cun. So, this is not slave, and rascall then.
 
 
Mir. What shall your eye command, but shall be done,
In all the duties of a loyal Wife?
 
 
Cun. Good, good, are not curses fitter for you? wer't not better
Your head were broke with the handle of a fan,
Or your nose bor'd with a silver bodkin?
 
 
Mir. Why, I will be a servant in your Lady.
 
 
Cun. 'Pox, but you shall not, she's too good for you,
This contract shall be a nullity, I'll break't off,
And see you better bestow'd.
 
 
Sir Greg. 'Slid, but you shall not, Sir, she's mine own, and I am hers, and we are one anothers lawfully, and let me see him that will take her away by the Civil Law: if you be my friend, keep you so, if you have done me a good turn, do not hit me i'th' teeth with't, that's not the part of a friend.
 
 
Cun. If you be content —
 
 
Sir Greg. Content? I was never in better contention in my life.
I'll not change her for both the Exchanges, New or the Old;
Come, kiss me boldly.
 
 
Clow. Give you joy, Sir.
 
 
Sir Greg. Oh Sir, I thank you as much as though I did, you are belov'd of Ladies, you see we are glad of under-women.
 
 
Clow. Ladies? let not Ladies be disgrac'd, you are as it were a Married Man, and have a family, and for the parties sake that was unnam'd before, being Pese-cod time, I am appeas'd, yet I would wish you make a Ruler of your Tongue.
 
 
Cun. Nay, no dissention here, I must bar that,
And this (friend) I entreat you, and be advis'd,
Let this private contract be yet conceal'd,
And still support a seeming face of love
Unto the Lady; mark how it availes you,
And quits all her scorns, her Unckle is now hot
In pursuit of the match, and will enforce her,
Bend her proud stomach, that she shall proffer
Her self to you, which when you have flouted,
And laught your fill at, you shall scorn her off,
With all your disgraces trebled upon her,
For there the pride of all her heart will bow,
When you shall foot her from you, not she you.
 
 
Sir Greg. Good I'faith; I'll continue it, I'd fain laugh at the old fellow too, for he has abus'd me as scurvily as his Neece, my Knight-hood's upon the spur, we'll go to Bed, and then to Church as fast as we can.
 

[Exit Sir Greg, and Mirab.

 
Clow. I do wonder I do not hear of the Lady yet.
 
 
Cun. The good minute may come sooner than you are aware of, I do not think but 'twill e'r night yet, as near as 'tis.
 
 
Clow. Well, I will go walk by the New River, in that meditation, I am o'er shooes, I'm sure upon the drie bank, this gullery of my Master will keep me company this two hours too, if love were not an enemy to laughter, I should drive away the time well enough; you know my walk, Sir, if she sends, I shall be found angling, for I will try what I can catch for luck sake, I will fish fair for't,
 
 
Oh Knight, that thou shouldst be gull'd so; ha, ha, it does me good at heart,
 
 
But oh Lady, thou tak'st down my merry part.
 

[Exit.

Enter Witty-pate

 
Witty. Friend.
 
 
Cun. Here friend.
 
 
Witty. All's afoot, and will goe smooth away,
The woman has conquer'd the women, they are gone,
Which I have already complain'd to my Father,
Suggesting that Sir Gregory is fall'n off
From his charge, for neglects and ill usage,
And that he is most violently bent
On Gentries wife (whom I have call'd a widow)
And that without most sudden prevention
He will be married to her.
 
 
Cun. [Fool, all] this is wrong,
This wings his pursuit, and will be before me; I am lost for ever.
 
 
Witty. No, stay, you shall not go
But with my Father, on my wit let it lie,
You shall appear a friendly assistant,
To help in all affairs, and in execution
Help your self only.
 
 
Cun. Would my belief
Were strong in this assurance.
 
 
Witty. You shall credit it,
And my wit shall be your slave, if it deceive you.
 

Enter Old Knight

 
My Father —
 
 
Old K. Oh Sir, you are well met, where's the Knight your friend?
Cun. Sir, I think your Son has told you.
 
 
Witty. Shall I stand to tell't agen? I tell you he loves,
But not my Kinswoman, her base usage,
And your slack performance which he accuses most
Indeed, has turn'd the Knights heart upside down.
 
 
Old K. I'll curb her for't, can he be but recover'd,
He shall have her, and she shall be dutiful,
And love him as a Wife too.
 
 
Witty. With that condition, Sir,
I dare recall him [were] he enter'd the Church,
So much interest of love I assure in him.
 
 
Old K. Sir, it shall be no loss to you if you do.
 
 
Witty. I, but these are words still, will not the deeds
Be wanting at the recovery, if it should be agen?
 
 
O[l]d K. Why here fool, I am provided, five hunder'd in earnest,
Of the thousands in her Dower, but were they married once,
I'd cut him short enough, that's my agreement.
 
 
Witty. I, now I perceive some purpose in you, Father.
 
 
Old K. But wherefore is she then stol'n out of doors to him?
 
 
Witty. To him? oh fie upon your error, she has another object, believe it, Sir.
Old K. I never could perceive it.
 
 
Cun. I did Sir, and to her shame I should speak it,
To my own sorrow I saw it, dalliance,
Nay, dotage with a very Clown, a Fool.
 
 
Old K. Wit and wantons? nothing else? nothing else?
She love a fool? she'll sooner make a Fool
Of a wise man.
 
 
Cun. I, my friend complains so,
Sir Gregory says flatly, she makes a fool of him,
And these bold circumstances are approv'd:
Favours have been sent by him, yet he ignorant
Whither to carry 'em; they have been understood,
And taken from him, certain, Sir, there is
An unsuspected fellow lies conceal'd,
What, or where e'er he is, these slight neglects
Could not be of a Knight else.
 
 
Old K. Well Sir, you have promis'd (if we recover him
Unmarried) to salve all these old bruises?
 
 
Cun. I'll do my best, Sir.
 
 
Old K. I shall thank you, costly Sir, and kindly too.
 
 
Witty. Will you talk away the time here, Sir, and come
behind all your purposes?
 
 
Old K. Away good Sir.
 
 
Witty. Then stay a little, good Sir, for my advice,
Why, Father are you broke? your wit beggar'd,
Or are you at your wits end? or out of
Love with wit? no trick of wit to surprize
Those designs, but with open Hue and Cry,
For all the world to talk on, this is strange,
You were not wont to slubber a project so.
 
 
Old K. Can you help at a pinch now? shew your self
My Son, go too, I leave this to your wit,
Because I'll make a proof on't.
 
 
Witty. 'Tis thus then,
I have had late intelligence, they are now
Bucksom as Bacchus Froes, revelling, dancing,
Telling the Musicks numbers with their feet,
Awaiting the meeting of p[re]monish'd friends,
That's questionless, little dreading you,
Now Sir, with a dexterous trick indeed, suddain
And sufficient were well, to enter on um
As something like the abstract of a Masque;
What though few persons? if best for our purpose
That commends the project.
 
 
Old K. This takes up time.
 
 
Witty. Not at all, I can presently furnish
With loose disguises that shall fit that Scene.
 
 
Old K. Why what wants then?
 
 
Witty. Nothing but charge of Musick,
That must be paid, you know.
 
 
Old K. That shall be my charges, I'll pay the Musick.
What e'er it cost.
 
 
Witty. And that shall be all your charge,
Now on, I like it, there will be wit in't Father.
 

[Exit Old K. and Witty.

 
Cun. I will neither distrust his wit nor friendship,
Yet if his Master brain should be o'er-thrown
My resolution now shall seize mine own.
 

[Exit.

Enter Neece, Lady Ruinous, Guardianess, Ruinous, Priscian, (with instruments masqu'd.)

 
L. Rui. Nay, let's have Musick, let that sweet breath at least
Give us her airy welcome, 'twill be the best
I fear this ruin'd receptacle will yield,
But that most freely.
 
 
Nee. My welcome follows me,
Else I am ill, come hither, you assure me
Still Mr. Cuningame will be here, and that it was
His kind entreaty that wish'd me meet him.
 
 
L. Ruin. Else let me be that shame unto my Sex,
That all belief may flie um.
 
 
Nee. Continue still
The Knights name unto my Guardianess,
She expects no other.
 
 
[L]. Ruin. He will, he will, assure you
Lady, Sir Gregory will be here, and suddainly
This Musick fore-ran him, is't not so consorts?
 
 
Ruin. Yes Lady, he stays on some device to bring along
Such a labour he was busie in, some witty device.
 
 
Nee. 'T[w]ill be long e'r he comes then, for wits a great
Labour to him.
 
 
Guard. Well, well, you'll agree better one day.
 
 
Nee. Scarce two I think.
 
 
Guard. Such a mock-beggar suit of cloaths as led me
Into the fools pair-of-Dice, with Dewze Ace,
He that would make me Mistriss Cun, Cun, Cunnie,
He's quite out of my mind, but I shall ne'er
Forget him, while I have a hole in my head;
Such a one I think would please you better,
Though he did abuse you.
 
 
Ruin. Fye, speak well of him now,
Your Neece has quitted him.
 
 
Guard. I hope she has,
Else she loses me for ever; but for Sir Gregory.
Would he were come, I shall ill answer this
Unto your Uncle else.
 
 
Nee. You know 'tis his pleasure
I should keep him company.
 
 
Guard. I, and should be your own
If you did well too: Lord, I do wonder
At the niceness of you Ladies now a days,
They must have Husbands with so much wit forsooth.
Worship and wealth were both wont to be
In better request I'm sure, I cannot tell,
But they get ne'er the wiser children that I see.
 
 
La. Ruin. La, la, la, la, Sol, this Musick breaths in vain;
Methinks 'tis dull to let it move alone,
Let's have a female motion, 'tis in private,
And we'll grace't our selves, however it deserves.
 
 
Nee. What say you Guardianess?
 
 
Guard. 'Las I'm weary with the walk,
My jaunting days are done.
 
 
L. Ru. Come, come, we'll fetch her in by course, or else
She shall pay the Musick.
 
 
Guard. Nay, I'll have a little for my money then.
 

[They Dance, a Cornet is winded.

 
L. Ru. Hark! upon my life the Knight; 'tis your friend,
This was the warning-piece of his approach.
 

Enter Old Knight, Witty-pate, Cunningame, Masqu'd, and take them to Dance

 
L. Ru. Ha? no words but mum? well then,
We shall need no counsel-keeping.
 
 
Nee. Cuningam?
 
 
Cun. Yes, fear nothing.
 
 
Nee. Fear? why do you tell me of it?
 
 
Cun. Your Uncles here.
 
 
Nee. Aye me.
 
 
Cun. Peace.
 
 
Old K. We have caught 'em.
 
 
Witty. Thank my wit Father.
 
 
Guard. Which is the Knight think you?
 
 
Nee. I know not, he will be found when he speaks,
No Masque can disguise his tongue.
 
 
Witty. Are you charg'd?
 
 
Old K. Are you awake?
 
 
Witty. I'm answer'd in a question.
 
 
Cun. Next change we meet, we lose our hands no more.
 
 
Nee. Are you prepar'd to tye 'em?
 
 
Cun. Yes,
You must go with me.
 
 
Guard. Whither Sir? not from my charge believe me.
 
 
Cun. She goes along.
 
 
Nee. Will you venture and my Uncle here?
 
 
Cun. His stay's prepar'd for.
 
 
Guard. 'Tis the Knight sure, I'll follow.
 

[Exit Cun. Nee. Guard.

 
Old K. How now, the Musick tir'd before us?
 
 
Ruin. Yes Sir, we must be paid now.
 
 
Witty. Oh that's my charge, Father.
 
 
Old K. But stay, where are our wanton Ladies gone?
Son, where are they?
 
 
Witty. Only chang'd the room in a change, that's all sure.
 
 
Old K. I'll make 'em all sure else, and then return to you.
 
 
Ruin. You must pay for your Musick first, Sir.
 
 
Old K. Must? are there musty Fidlers? are Beggars choosers now?
Ha! why Witty-pate, Son, where am I?
 
 
Witty. You were dancing e'en now, in good measure, Sir,
Is your health miscarried since? what ail you, Sir?
 
 
Old K. Death, I may be gull'd to my face, where's my Neece?
What are you?
 
 
L. Ru. None of your Neece, Sir.
 
 
Old K. How now? have you loud instruments too? I'll hear
No more, I thank you; what have I done to
To bring these fears about me? Son, where am I?
 
 
Witty. Not where you should be, Sir, you [should] be paying
For your Musick, and you are in a maze.
 
 
Old K. Oh, is't so, put up, put up, I pray you,
Here's a crown for you.
 
 
L. Ruin. Pish, a crown?
 
 
Ruin. Pris. Ha, ha, ha, a crown?
 
 
Old K. Which way do you laugh? I have seen a crown
Has made a Consort laugh heartily.
 
 
Witty. Father,
To tell you truth, these are no ordinary
Musicians, they expect a bounty
Above their punctual desert.
 
 
Old K. A – on your Punks, and their deserts too.
Am I not cheated all this while think you?
Is not your pate in this?
 
 
Witty. If you be cheated,
You are not to be indicted for your own goods,
Here you trifle time to market your bounty
And make it base, when it must needs be free
For ought I can perceive.
 
 
Old K. Will you know the lowest price, Sir?
 
 
Witty. That I will Sir, with all my heart.
 
 
Old K. Unless I was discover'd, and they now fled
Home agen for fear, I am absolutely beguil'd,
That's the best can be hop'd for.
 
 
Witty. Faith 'tis somewhat too dear yet, Gentlemen.
 
 
Ruin. There's not a Denier to be bated, Sir.
 
 
Old K. Now Sir, how dear is it?
 
 
Witty. Bate but the t'other ten pound?
 
 
Pris. Not a Bawbee, Sir.
 
 
Old K. How? bate ten pound? what's the whole sum then?
 
 
Witty. Faith Sir, a hundred pound, with much adoe,
I got fifty bated, and faith Father, to say truth,
'Tis reasonable for men of their fashion.
 
 
Old K. La, la, la, down, a hunder'd pound? la, la, la,
You are a Consort of Thieves, are you not?
 
 
Witty. No Musicians, Sir, I told you before.
 
 
Old K. Fiddle faddle, is it not a robbery? a plain robbery.
 
 
Witty. No, no, no, by no means Father, you have receiv'd
For your money, nay and that you cannot give back,
'Tis somewhat dear I confess, but who can help it?
If they had been agreed with before-hand,
'Twas ill forgotten.
 
 
Old [K]. And how many shares have you in this? I see my force,
Case up your instruments, I yield, here, as robb'd and
Taken from me, I deliver it.
 
 
Witty. No Sir, you have perform'd your promise now,
Which was, to pay the charge of Musick, that's all.
 
 
Old K. I have heard no Musick, I have receiv'd none, Sir,
There's none to be found in me, nor about me.
 
 
Witty. Why Sir, here's witness against you, you have danc'd,
And he that dances, acknowledges a receipt of Musick.
 
 
Old K. I denie that, Sir, look you, I can dance without
Musick, do you see, Sir? and I can sing without it too; you
are a Consort of Thieves, do you hear what I do?
 
 
Witty. Pray you take heed, Sir, if you do move the
Musick agen, it may cost you as much more.
 
 
Old K. Hold, hold, I'll depart quietly, I need not bid you
farewel, I think now, so long as that hundred [pound] lasts
with you.
 

Enter Guardianess

 
Ha, ha, am I snapt i'faith?
 
 
Guar. Oh, Sir, Perfidious.
 
 
Old K. I, I, some howling another while, Musick's too
damnable dear.
 
 
Guard. Oh Sir, my heart-strings are broke, if I can but live
to tell you the tale, I care not, your Neece my charge is —
 
 
Old K. What, is she sick?
 
 
Guard. No, no Sir, she's lustily well married.
 
 
Old K. To whom?
 
 
Guard. Oh, to that cunning dissembler, Cuningam.
 
 
Old K. I'll hang the Priest, first, what was he?
 
 
Guard. Your kinsman, Sir, that has the Welch Benefice.
 
 
Old K. I sav'd him from the Gallows to that end, good:
is there any more?
 
 
Guard. And Sir Gregory is married too.
 
 
Old K. To my Neece too, I hope, and then I may hang her.
 
 
Guard. No Sir, to my Neece, thank Cupid; and that's all
that's likely to recover me, she's Lady Fop now, and I am One
of her Aunts, I thank my promotion.
 

Enter Credulous, Cuningam, Neece, Sir Gregory, and Mirabel

 
Cred. I have perform'd your be[he]st, Sir.
 
 
Old K. What have you perform'd, Sir?
 
 
Witty. Faith Sir I must excuse my Cosin in this act,
If you can excuse your self for making him
A Priest, there's the most difficult answer.
I put this practise on him, as from your desire,
A truth, a truth, Father.
 
 
Cred. I protest, Sir, he tells you truth, he mov'd me to't in your nam[e].
 
 
Old K. I protest, Sir, he told you a lye in my name, and were you so easie, Mr. Credulous, to believe him?
 
 
Cred. If a man should not believe his Cosin, Sir, whom should he believe?
 
 
Old K. Good'en to you, good Mr. Cosin Cuningam,
And your fair Bride, my Cosin Cuningam too,
And how do you Sir Gregory, with your fair Lady?
 
 
Sir Greg. A little better than you would have had me, I thank you Sir, the days of Puppy, and Slave, and Rascal, are pretty well blown over now, I know Crabs from Verjuyce, I have tryed both, and thou'dst give me thy Neece for nothing, I'd not have her.
 
 
Cun. I think so Sir Gregory, for my sake you would not.
 
 
Sir Gr. I wou'd thou hadst scap'd her too, and then she had died of the Green sickness: know this, that I did marry in spight, and I will kiss my Lady in spight, and love her in spight, and beget children of her in spight, and when I dye, they shall have my Lands in spight; this was my resolution, and now 'tis out.
 
 
Nee. How spightful are you now, Sir Gregory!
Why look you, I can love my dearest Husband,
With all the honors, duties, sweet embraces,
That can be thrown upon a loving man.
 
 
Sir Gr.– This is afore your Uncles face, but behind his back, in private, you'll shew him another tale —
 
 
Cun. You see, Sir, now the irrecoverable state of all these things before you: come out of your muse, they have been but Wit-weapons, you were wont to love the Play.
 

Enter Clown

 
Old K. Let me alone in my muse a little, Sir, I will wake to you anon.
 
 
Cun. U'd so, your friend Pompey, how will you answer him?
 
 
Nee. Very well, if you'll but second it, and help me.
 
 
Clow. I do hear strange stories, are Ladies things obnoxious?
 
 
Nee. Oh, the dissembling falsest wretch is come.
 
 
Cun. How now Lady?
 
 
Nee. Let me come to him, and instead of love
Let me have revenge.
 
 
Witty. Pray you now, will you first examine, whether he
be guilty or no.
 
 
Nee. He cannot be excus'd,
How many Messengers (thou perjur'd man)
Hast thou return'd with Vows and Oaths, that thou
Wouldst follow, and never till this unhappy hour
Could I set eye of thee, since thy false eye
Drew my heart to it? oh I could tear thee now,
Instead of soft embraces, pray give me leave —
 
 
Witty. Faith this was ill done of you Sir, if you promis'd otherwise.
 
 
Clow. By this hand, never any Messenger came at me, since the first time I came into her company; that a man should be wrong'd thus!
 
 
Nee. Did not I send thee Scarfs and Diamonds?
And thou return'dst me Letters, one with a false heart in't.
 
 
Witty. Oh fie, to receive favours, return falshoods, and hold a Lady in hand —
 
 
Clow. Will you believe me, Sir? if ever I receiv'd Diamonds, or Scarf, or sent any Letter to her, would this sword might ne'er go through me.
 
 
Witty. Some bad Messengers have gone between you then.
 
 
Nee. Take him from my sight if I shall see to morrow.
 
 
Witty. Pray you forbear the place, this discontent may impair her health much.
 
 
Clow. 'Foot, if a man had been in any fault, 'twould ne'er a griev'd him, Sir, if you'll believe.
 
 
Witty. Nay, nay, protest no more, I do believe you,
But you see how the Lady is wrong'd by't;
She has cast away her self, it is to be fear'd,
Against her Uncles Will, nay, any consent,
But out of a mere neglect, and spight to her self,
Married suddainly without any advice.
 
 
Clow. Why, who can help it? if she be cast away, she may thank her self, she might have gone farther and far'd worse; I could do no more than I could do: 'twas her own pleasure to command me, that I should not come, till I was sent for, I had been with her every minute of an hour else.
 
 
Witty. Truly I believe you.
 
 
Clow. Night and day she might have commanded me, and that she knew well enough; I said as much to her between her and I; yet I protest, she's as honest a Lady for my part, that I'd say, if she would see me hang'd: if she be cast away I cannot help it, she might have stay'd to have spoke with a man.
 
 
Witty. Well, 'twas a hard miss on both parts.
 
 
Clow. So 'twas, I was within one of her, for all this cross luck, I was sure I was between the Knight and home.
 
 
Nee. Not gone yet? oh my heart! none regard my health?
 
 
Witty. Good Sir, forbear her sight awhile, you hear how ill she brooks it.
 
 
Clow. Foolish woman, to overthrow her fortunes so; I shall think the worse of a Ladies wit, while I live for't – I could almost cry for anger, if she should miscarry now; 'twould touch my conscience a little, and who knows what love and conceit may do? what would people say, as I go along? there goes he that the Lady died for love on, I am sure to hear on't i'th' streets, I shall weep before hand; foolish woman, I do grieve more for thee now, than I did love thee before; well, go thy ways, wouldst thou spare thy Husbands head, and break thine own heart? if thou hadst any wit, I would some other had been the cause of thy undoing, I shall be twitted i'th' teeth with it, I'm sure of that, foolish Lady.
 

[Exit.

 
Nee. So, so, this trouble's well shook off, Uncle, how d'ye? there's a Dowrie due, Sir.
 
 
Cun. We have agreed it sweetest,
And find your Uncle fully recover'd, kind to both of us.
 
 
Witty. To all the rest I hope.
 
 
Old K. Never to thee, nor thee, easie cosin Credulous,
Was your wit so raw?
 
 
Cred. Faith yours Sir, so long season'd
Has been faulty too, and very much to blame,
Speaking it with reverence, Uncle.
 
 
Sir Gr. Yes faith, Sir, you have paid as dear for your time, as any man here.
 
 
Witty. I Sir, and I'll reckon it to him. Imprimis, The first preface cheat of a pair of pieces to the Beggars, you remember that I was the example to your bounty there, I spake Greek and Syriack, Sir, you understand me now. Next, the Robbery put upon your indulgent Cosin, which indeed was no Robbery, no Constable, no Justice, no Thief, but all Cheaters; there was a hunder'd Mark, mark you that: Lastly, this memorable 100 pounds worth of Musick, this was [but] cheats and wit too, and for the assistance of this Gentleman to my Cosin (for which I am to have a Fee) that was a little practice of my wit too, Father; will you come to composition yet, Father?
 
 
Cun. Yes faith Sir, do, two hundr'd a year will be easier than so much weekly, I do not think he's barren if he should be put to't agen.
 
 
Old K. Why this was the day I look'd for, thou shalt have't,
And the next cheat makes it up three hundr'd;
Live thou upon thy ten pound Vicarage,
Thou get'st not a penny more, here's thy full
Hire now.
 
 
Cred. I thank you, Sir.
 
 
Witty. Why there was the sum of all my Wit, Father,
To shuve him out of your favour, which I fear'd
Would have disinherited me.
 
 
Old K. Most certain it had,
Had not thy wit recover'd it; is there any here
That had a hand with thee?
 
 
Witty. Yes, all these, Sir.
 
 
Old K. Nephew, part a hundr'd pound amongst 'em,
I'll repay it; wealth, love me as I love wit;
When I die,
I'll build an Alms-house for decay'd wits.
 
 
Sir Gr. I'll entertain one in my life time; Scholar, you shall be my Chaplain, I have the gift of twenty Benefices, simple as I am here.
 
 
Pris. Thanks my great Patron.
 
 
Cun. Sir your Gentry and your name shall both be rais'd as high as my fortunes can reach 'em, for your friends sake.
 
 
Witty. Something will be in my present power, the future more,
You shall share with me.
 
 
Ruin and Wife. Thanks worthy Gentlemen.
 
 
Nee. Sir, I would beg one thing of you.
 
 
Sir Gr. You can beg nothing of me.
 
 
Witty. Oh Sir, if she begs, there's your power over her.
 
 
Sir Gr. She has begg'd me for a fool already, but 'tis no matter.
I have begg'd her for a Lady, that she might have been,
That's one for another.
 
 
Witty. Nay, but if she beg —
 
 
Sir Gr. Let her beg agen then.
 
 
Nee. That your man Pompey's Coat may come over his ears back agen, I would not he should be lost for my sake.
 
 
Sir Gr. Well, 'tis granted, for mine own sake.
 
 
Mirab. I'll intreat it Sir.
 
 
Sir Gr. Why then 'tis granted for your sake.
 
 
Old K. Come, come, down with all weapons now, 'tis Musick time,
So it be purchas'd at an easie rate;
Some have receiv'd the knocks, some giv'n the hits,
And all concludes in love, there's happy wits.
 

[Exeunt.