322
Scene II. _Carlo’s_ House.
Enter _Olinda_ and _Dorice_.
Olin. But is the Bride-Chamber drest up, and the Bed made as it ought
to be?
Dor. As for the making, ’tis as it use to be, only the Velvet
Furniture.
Olin. As it use to be? Oh ignorance! I see these young Wenches are not
arriv’d yet to bare Imagination: Well, I must order it my self, I see
that.
Dor. Why, _Olinda_, I hope they will not go just to Bed upon their
marrying, without some signs of a Wedding, as Fiddles, and Dancing, and
so forth.
Olin. Good Lord, what Joys you have found out for the first Night of a
young Bride and Bridegroom. Fiddles and Dancing, ha, ha, ha! they’ll be
much merrier by themselves, than Fiddles and Dancing can make them, you
Fool.
Enter _Haunce_ and _Gload_.
Bless me! what is’t I see! [Stares on _Haunce_.
Hau. Why! what the Devil means she? look about me, _Gload_, and see
what I have that’s so terrible.
Olin. Oh, I have no Power to stir, it is a Sprite.
Hau. What does she mean now, _Gload?_
Glo. She desires to be satisfy’d whether we be Flesh and Blood, Sir, I
believe.
Hau. Do’st see nothing that’s Devil-wise about me?
Glo. No, indeed, Sir, not I.
Hau. Why then the Wench is tippled, that’s all, a small Fault.
Olin. O, in the name of Goodness, Sir, what are you?
Glo. Ay, Ay, Sir, ’tis that she desires to know.
Olin. Who are you, Sir?
Hau. Why who should I be, but he that’s to be your Master anon?
323 Glo. Yes, who should he be but _Myn heer Haunce van Ezel?_
Olin. What, did you come in at the Door?
Hau. Yes, marry did I; what, do you think I creep in like a Lapland
Witch through the Key-holes?
Dor. Nay, nay, this cannot be the Bridegroom.
Olin. No, for ’tis but a moment since we left him, you know, in my
Lady’s Chamber.
Hau. Very drunk, by this good Light.
Dor. And therefore it cannot be _Myn heer Haunce_.
Hau. What a Devil will you persuade me out of my Christian Name?
Olin. The Priest has yet scarce done his Office, who is marrying him
above to my Lady.
Hau. _Salerimente_, here’s brave doing, to marry me, and never give me
notice; or thou art damnable drunk, or very mad.
Glo. Yes, and I am married to you too, am I not? [To _Olinda_.
Olin. You? we know neither of you.
Hau. Ha, ha, ha, here’s a turn for you.
Enter _Carlo_.
Car. Why, _Olinda_, _Dorice_, _Olinda_, where be these mad Girls? ’tis
almost Night, and nothing in Order. Why, what now? Who’s here?
Hau. So the old Man’s possest too—Why, what a Devil ails you, Sir?
[Goes roughly to him.
Car. From whence come you, Sir? and what are you?
Hau. _Gload_, let’s be gone, for we shall be transmigrated into some
strange Shapes anon, for all the House is inchanted. Who am I, quoth
ye? before I came you all knew me; and now you are very well acquainted
with me, you have forgot me.
Car. If you be my Son _Haunce_, how came you here?
Hau. If I be your Son _Haunce_, where should I be else?
324 Car. Above with your Wife, not below amongst the Maids.
Hau. What Wife? what Wife? Ha, ha, ha, do not provoke me, lest I take
you a slap in the Face, I tell you that now.
Car. Oh, I find by his Humour this is he, and I am finely cheated and
abus’d. I’ll up and know the Truth.
[Goes out.
Hau. And so will I. [Follows.
Glo. Why, but Mistress _Olinda_, you have not, indeed, forgot me, have
you?
Olin. For my Lover I have, but perhaps I may call you to mind, as my
Servant hereafter.
Glo. Since you are so proud and so fickle, you shall stand hereafter as
a Cypher with me; and I’ll begin upon a new Account with this pretty
Maid: what say you forsooth?
Dor. I am willing enough to get a Husband as young as I am.
Glo. Why, that’s well said, give your Hand upon the
Bargain—God-ha’-Mercy, with all my Heart, i’faith. [Go in.
[Scene draws off, discovers a Chamber. Enter _Alonzo_, _Euphemia_, and
_Lovis_; to them _Carlo_, _Haunce_, and the rest.
Car. Oh, I am cheated, undone, abus’d.
Lov. How, Sir, and where?
[_Haunce_ sees _Alonzo_ drest like him, goes gazing about him, and on
himself, calling _Gload_ to do the same.
Car. Nay, I know not how, or where; but so I am: and when I find it,
I’ll turn you all out of Doors. Who are you, Sir? quickly tell me.
Alon. If you be in such haste, take the shortest Account, I am your
Son.
Car. I mean, Sir, what’s your Name, and which of you is _Haunce van
Ezel?_
Hau. Ay, which of us is _Haunce van Ezel?_ tell us that, Sir; we shall
handle ye i’faith now—
325 Alon. He, Sir, can best inform you. [Pointing to _Haunce_.
Hau. Who, I! I know no more than the great Turk, not I, which of us is
me; my Hat, my Feather, my Suit, and my Garniture all over, faith now;
and I believe this is me, for I’ll trust my Eyes before any other Sense
about me. What say’st thou now, _Gload?_ guess which of us is thy own
natural Master now if thou canst.
Glo. Which, Sir?—why—let me see—let me see, [Turns them both about.
fakes, I cannot tell, Sir.
Car. Come, come, the Cheat is plain, and I’ll not be fobb’d off,
therefore tell me who you are, Sir. [To _Alonzo_.
Alon. One that was very unwilling to have put this Trick upon you, if I
could have persuaded _Euphemia_ to have been kind on any other Terms,
but nothing would down with her but Matrimony.
Car. How long have you known her?
Alon. Faith, Sir, too long by at least an Hour.
Car. I say again, what are you, Sir?
Alon. A Man I am, and they call me _Alonzo_.
Car. How! I hope not the great fighting Colonel whom my Son serv’d as a
Voluntier in _Flanders_.
Alon. Even he, Sir.
Car. Worse and worse, I shall grow mad, to think that in spite of all
my Care, _Euphemia_ should marry with so notorious a Man of War.
Hau. How! is this _Alonzo_, and am I cozen’d? pray tell me truly, are
you not me indeed?
Alon. All over, Sir, only the inside a little less Fool.
Hau. So here’s fine juggling—are not you a rare Lady, hah? [To
_Euphemia_; crys.
Euph. I assure you, Sir, if this Man had not past for you, I had never
had him.
Hau. Had him! Oh, you are a flattering thing, I durst ha’ sworn you
could no more ha’ been without me, than a Barber’s Shop without a
Fiddle, so I did: Oh, what a 326 damnable Voyage have I back again
without a Wife too— [Crys again.
Lov. If that be all, we’ll get you one before you go; that shall be my
care.
Hau. A Pox of your care: well, I will get my self most soundly drunk to
Night, to be reveng’d of these two damnable Dons. Come, _Gload_, let us
about something in order to’t. [Exit with _Gload_.
Euph. Pray, Sir, be persuaded, he’s worth your owning.
Car. Tell not me of owning; what Fortune has he?
Lov. His Horse and Arms, the Favour of his Prince, and his Pay.
Car. His Horse and Arms I wholly dislike, as Implements of War; and
that same Princely Favour, as you call it, will buy no Lands; and his
Pay he shall have when he can get it.
Lov. But, Sir, his coming to _Madrid_ was to take possession of a Place
the Prince has promis’d him.
Car. Has promis’d him? what! I shall marry my Daughter to the Promises
of e’er a Prince in _Christendom_, shall I? No, no; Promises, quoth ye?
Alon. Well, Sir, will this satisfy you? [Gives him a Parchment.
Euph. If it should not, let us consider what next to do.
Alon. No consideration, _Euphemia_; not so much as that we are married,
lest it lessen our Joys.
Car. Twelve thousand Crowns a Year!—Sir, I cry you mercy, and wish you
joy with my Daughter.
Lov. So his Courage will down with him now.
Alon. To satisfy you farther, Sir, read this. [Gives him another Paper.
And now, _Euphemia_, prepare your self to receive some gallant Friends
of mine, whom you must be acquainted with, and who design to make a
merry Night on’t.
Euph. A whole Night, _Alonzo?_
Alon. By no means, _Euphemia_, for the first too, which 327 if the
thoughts of its being part of my Duty do not hinder, will be a pleasant
enough to me.
Car. So considerable an Office at Court too!—Let me imbrace you, Sir;
and tell you how happy I am in so brave Son-in-law.
Alon. With that assurance, Sir, I’ll take a more than ordinary freedom
with you, and teach _Euphemia_ a franker way of living, than what a
native _Spaniard_ would have allow’d her.
Car. She shall be what sort of Wife you’ll have her.
Enter Servant, after a noise of Musick.
Alon. What Musick’s that?
Serv. It waits upon some Ladies and Gentlemen who ask for you, Sir.
Alon. Wait them in, they are those Friends of mine I told you of. [He
goes and brings them in.
Enter _Marcel_ and _Clarinda_, _Silvio_ and _Cleonte_, _Antonio_ and
_Hippolyta_, _Dormida_ and _Francisca_; all salute _Euphemia_.
Enter _Haunce_ and _Gload_ in Masquerade to the Company, _Olinda_ and
_Dorice_ masked.
Hau. Well, the Devil’s in’t if we shall not appear ridiculous enough,
hah, _Gload?_
Glo. Ay, Sir, the more ridiculous the better.
Hau. I was always of that mind.—Ha, ha, Boys, who be all these Dons and
Donnas?—Harkye, _Lovis_, I hope the Wife you promis’d me is amongst
these fair Ladies, for so I guess they are both, fair and Ladies.
Lov. You guess right, Sir.
Alon. Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, command your Musick, and do what likes
you best.
Lov. Here’s the Lady I recommend to you, take her, Sir, be thankful.
[Gives him _Olinda_.
Olin. This is the Fool that I am to manage.
328
Dor. And this is my Lot. [Takes _Gload_.
[Musick plays, they all dance.
Lov. There is within a young Father ready to join your Hands: take this
opportunity, and make sure of a Wife.
Hau. I warrant you, Sir.
[Exeunt _Haunce_, _Olinda_, _Gload_, and _Dorice_.
Enter _Pedro_.
Ped. Your Mother, Sir, whom I found more dead than living, for the loss
of your Sister, was very near dying outright with Joy, to hear of your
Arrival, and most impatiently expects you.
Dorm. And are we all forgiven, _Pedro?_
Ped. Yes, you and I are like to be Fellow-Servants together again,
_Dormida_.
Dorm. And Fellow-Lovers too I hope, _Pedro_.
Ped. The Devil’s in’t if Age have not allay’d Flames of all sorts in
thee; but if you contribute to my allowance—
Dorm. Thou know’st I could never keep any thing from thee, _Pedro_.
Alon. Come, Ladies, there is a small Banquet attends you in the next
Room.
Silv. We’ll wait on you, Sir.
Enter _Haunce_, _Gload_, _Olinda_, and _Dorice_.
Hau. Hold, hold, and give me Joy too, for I am married, if she has not
mistaken her Man again, and I my Woman.
Olin. No, you are the Man I look for, and I no Cheat, having all about
me that you look for too, but Money. [Discovers her self.
Alon. How, _Olinda!_
Olin. Yes, indeed, Sir, I serv’d my Lady first, and then thought it no
Offence to take the Reward due to that Service.
Hau. Here’s a _Spanish_ Trick for you now, to marry a Wife, before one
sees her.
329 Euph. What, _Dorice_ married too?
Dor. After your Example, Madam.
Glo. Yes, indeed, forsooth, and I have made bold too after the Example
of my Master.
Hau. Now do they all expect I should be dissatisfied; but, Gentlemen,
in sign and token that I am not, I’ll have one more merry Frisk before
we part, ’tis a witty Wench; faith and troth, after a Month ’tis all
one who’s who; therefore come on, _Gload_. [They dance together.
Alon. Monsieur _Haunce_, I see you are a Man of Gallantry. Come let us
in, I know every Man here desires to make this Night his own, and
sacrifice it to Pleasure.
The Ladies too in Blushes do confess.
Equal Desires; which yet they’ll not confess.
Theirs, tho less fierce, more constant will abide;
But ours less current grow the more they’re try’d.
EPILOGUE
HISS ’em, and cry ’em down, ’tis all in vain,
Incorrigible Scriblers can’t abstain:
But impudently i’th’ old Sin engage;
Tho doom’d before, nay banish’d from the Stage.
Whilst sad Experience our Eyes convinces,
That damn’d their Plays which hang’d the _German_ Princess;
And we with Ornament set off a Play,
Like her drest fine for Execution-day.
And faith, I think, with as small hopes to live;
Unless kind Gallants the same Grace you’d give
Our Comedy as Her; beg a Reprieve.
Well, what the other mist, let our Scribe get,
A Pardon, for she swears she’s the less Cheat.
She never gull’d you Gallants of the Town
Of Sum above four Shillings, or half a Crown.
330 Nor does she, as some late great Authors do,
Bubble the Audience, and the Players too.
Her humble Muse soars not in the High-rode
Of Wit transverst, or Baudy _A-la-mode_;
Yet hopes her plain and easy Style is such,
As your high Censures will disdain to touch.
Let her low Sense creep safe from your Bravadoes,
Whilst Rotas and Cabals aim at Granadoes.
Notes on the Text.
_433_
The Dutch Lover.
Dramatis Personæ
p. 226 I have added to the Dramatis Personæ ‘Boy, Page to Marcel,
Servant to Carlo, A Friar, Swains, Four Shepherds, Four Nymphs, Dutch
men and Dutch women.’
Act I: Scene i
p. 227, l. 3 The locale _A Street_ is not marked in 4to 1673 or 1724.
p. 229, l. 4 _Christian._ 1724 ‘christian’.
Act I: Scene ii
p. 231, l. 8 _his nice Honour._ 1724, wrongly, omits ‘nice’.
p. 232, l. 3 _I must still love on._ 1724 omits ‘still’.
p. 233, l. 6 _after long Despairs._ 1724 ‘after long Despair’.
p. 233, l. 21 _too much of Joy._ 1724 ‘Joys’.
p. 233, l. 28 _change thy Wonder._ 4to 1673 ‘Wonders’.
p. 234, l. 23 _Marcel is surprized._ 1724 omits this stage direction.
p. 234, l. 36 _And thou, Antonio, that has betray’d her._ 4to 1673 ‘And
thou, Antonio, thou hast betray’d her’. 1724 ‘And thou, Antonio, thou
that hast betray’d her’.
p. 235, l. 17 _a kind obliging Lady._ 1724 ‘A kind of obliging Lady’.
p. 236, l. 4 _Am I a Dog._ 4to 1673 wrongly marks this line ‘aside’.
p. 236, l. 10 _I, like the Birds._ 4to 1673 omits ‘the’.
p. 237, l. 1 _Biscay, a Surgeon._ 4to 1673 omits ‘a’.
p. 237, l. 7 _Down of Swans._ 1724 ‘Swan’.
Act I: Scene iii
p. 238, l. 3 _and lik’d him._ 1724 ‘and like him’.
p. 240, l. 2 _this is the first._ 1724 ‘this was the first’.
p. 240, l. 34 _to his heart._ 1724 omits.
p. 241, l. 8 _Prithee instruct._ 4to 1673 as prose.
p. 241, l. 20 _Command me._ 4to 1673 as prose.
p. 242, l. 13 _My Death._ 1724 ‘me death’.
Act II: Scene i
p. 243, l. 8 _undone its Fame._ 1724 ‘undone his Fame’.
p. 244, l. 11 _the next Morning’s Sun._ 4to 1673 ‘th’ Approach of next
Morning’s Sun’. 1724 ‘of the next Morning Sun’.
p. 244, l. 31 _They go out._ 4to 1673 omits ‘they’.
Act II: Scene ii
p. 248, l. 33 _Come, come._ 1724 prints this speech as prose.
p. 249, l. 20 _Look at one another and go._ 1724 omits, reading
‘exeunt’.
Act II: Scene iii
p. 251, l. 10 _very unlucky._ 4to 1673 ‘very unluckily’.
Act II: Scene iv
p. 252, l. 21 _Marcel coming towards him jostles him._ 4to 1673 reads
‘Marcel coming towards justles him’.
p. 253, l. 7 _given him some._ 4to 1673 omits ‘him’.
Act II: Scene vi
p. 257, l. 12 _Of your Victims._ 1724 prints this line and the next as
prose.
434 p. 257, l. 24 _Offers her a Dagger._ 1724 omits ‘her’.
p. 259, l. 31 _a Pox of her terms._ 1724 ‘A Pox on her terms’.
Act II: Scene vii
p. 261, l. 5 _Haunce van Ezel._ 1724 ‘Hance’.
Act III: Scene i
p. 266, l. 2 _I cry you Mercy._ 1724 ‘I cry your Mercy’.
p. 266, l. 11 _he does not boast._ 4to 1673, wrongly, ‘he does but
boast’.
p. 267, l. 36 _But do you find her._ 1724 ‘But do you not find her’.
p. 268, l. 11 _’tis certain ’tis so._ 1724 ’’tis certain so’.
p. 269, l. 19 _lest he surprize us._ 1724 ‘lest he surprizes us’.
Act III: Scene ii
p. 269, l. 27 _Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages._ 1724 omits ‘all’.
p. 270, l. 28 _to our Courages._ 1724 ‘Courage’.
p. 271, l. 24 _over a Leg._ 1724 ‘over Leg’.
p. 272, l. 21 _Rummer._ 4to 1673 ‘Romer’.
p. 272, l. 33 _that’s not the Fashion._ 1724 omits ‘not’.
p. 272, l. 34 _I’ll manage her._ 1724 ‘I manage her’.
Act III: Scene iii
p. 273, l. 6 _Scene III. Draws off. A Grove._ 1724 omits ‘Draws off.’ I
have added the locale ‘A Grove.’
p. 278, l. 24 _how darst thou._ 1724 ‘how durst thou’.
p. 278, l. 34 _that could not defend._ 4to 1673 omits ‘that’.
Act III: Scene iva
p. 283, l. 34 _you knew not of my Brother’s._ 1724 ‘you know not my
Brother’s’ and omits ‘[To Franc.’
p. 284, l. 4 _to see the fair Clarinda [Goes to Clarinda] here, is a
Happiness._ 1724 ‘to see the fair Clarinda [Goes to Clarinda.] Here is
a Happiness’.
p. 285, l. 7 _Goes out._ 1724 ‘Exit’.
Act IV: Scene i
p. 286, l. 27 _Surlily to him._ 1724 ‘Goes surlily to him’.
p. 287, l. 26 _by instinct. [Aside._ 1724 omits ‘Aside’.
p. 287, l. 27 _Stands looking very simply._ 1724 omits ‘very’.
p. 288, l. 5 _new-fashion’d Spanish Civility._ 1724 omits ‘Spanish’.
p. 289, l. 13 _it made my Stomach wamble._ 1724 ‘it had made’.
p. 289, l. 32 _Gaber._ 1724 ‘Gabor’.
p. 290, l. 28 _Fakes, to entertain._ 1724 ‘Faith’.
p. 291, l. 5 _They two dance._ 1724 ‘They too dance.’
Act IV: Scene ii
p. 296, l. 2 _Runs behind Lovis._ 1724 omits.
p. 297, l. 1 _I declare it here upon._ 1724 ‘Here I declare it upon’.
p. 298, l. 13 _who starts as afraid._ 1724 misreads ‘as aforesaid.’
Act IV: Scene iii
p. 301, l. 6 _Oh, is it bravely done._ 1724 ‘Oh, it is bravely done
...’ and punctuates ‘:’ instead of ‘?’
p. 301, l. 12 _on this Body._ 1724, wrongly, ‘on thy Body’.
p. 301, l. 34 _Takes to his Sword._ 1724 ‘the Sword’.
Act V: Scene i
p. 310, l. 3 _Cleo. Oh my Fears._ 4to 1673 wrongly marks ‘aside’.
p. 312, l. 3 _Weeps._ This stage direction is not given by 4to 1673.
p. 319, l. 1 _How very very wicked._ 1724 ‘How very wicked’.
p. 319, l. 32 _Count d’ Olivarez._ 4to 1673 here and elsewhere when the
name occurs ‘Conte De Olivari’s’.
p. 320, l. 17 _if you are pleas’d._ 1724 ‘if your are pleas’d’.
Act V: Scene ii
p. 322, l. 1 _Carlo’s House._ 4to 1673 ‘House of Carlo’.
p. 322, l. 5 _Dor. As for._ 4to 1673 misreads ‘Dom. As for’.
p. 323, l. 11 _Hau. What a Devil._ 1724 ‘Hau. What the Devil’.
p. 324, l. 7 _Truth. [Goes out._ 1724 ‘Exit.’
p. 324, l. 20 _God-ha’-Mercy._ 1724 ‘God-a-Mercy’.
p. 324, l. 20 _Go in._ 1724 omits.
_448_
Notes: Critical And Explanatory.
The Dutch Lover.
Epistle
p. 221 _An Epistle to the Reader._ This amusing and witty Epistle only
appears in the 4to, 1673, finding no place in the various collected
editions of Mrs. Behn’s plays. The writer of comedy—‘the most severe of
Johnson’s sect’—with his ‘musty rules of Unity’—at whom she glances
pretty freely is Shadwell, who had obtained great success with _The
Sullen Lovers_ (produced 2 May, 1668; 4to, 1668), and in spite of some
mishaps and opposition, made another hit with _The Humourists_ (1671;
4to, 1671). An ardent disciple of Ben Jonson, he had in the two printed
prefaces to these plays belauded his model beyond all other writers,
insisting upon the Unities and the introduction of at least two or
three Humours as points essential to any comedy.
p. 221 _Doctor of Malmsbury._ The famous philosopher, Thomas Hobbes
(1588-1670), who was born at Westport, a suburb of Malmesbury (of which
town his father was vicar).
p. 222 _unjantee._ —‘Jantee’ obsolete form of ‘jaunty’: see _N.E.D._
p. 222 _the mighty Echard._ That facetious divine, John Eachard, D.D.
(1636-97), Master of Catherine Hall, Cambridge. His chief work, _The
Grounds and Occasions of the Contempt of the Clergy and Religion
enquired into. In a Letter to R. L._ (London, 1670), published
anonymously, is stuffed full with Attic salt and humour. He has even
been censured for a jocosity (at his brethren’s expense) beneath the
decorum of the cloth.
p. 224 _English Game which hight long Laurence._ To play at Laurence =
to do just nothing at all; to laze. Laurence is the personification of
idleness. There are many dialect uses of the name, e.g., N.W. Devon
‘Lazy’s Laurence’, and Cornish ‘He’s as lazy as Lawrence’, vide Wright,
_English Dialect Dictionary._
Act I: Scene ii
p. 234 _Women must be watcht as Witches are._ One of the tests to which
beldames suspected of sorcery were put—a mode particularly favoured by
that arch-scamp, Matthew Hopkins, ‘Witch-Finder General’—was to tie
down the accused in some painful or at least uneasy posture for
twenty-four hours, during which time relays of watchers sat round. It
was supposed that an imp would come and suck the witch’s blood; so any
fly, moth, wasp or insect seen in the room was a familiar in that
shape, and the poor wretch was accordingly convicted of the charge.
Numerous confessions are recorded to have been extracted in this manner
from ailing and doting crones by Master Hopkins, cf. _Hudribras_, Part
II, canto iii, 146-8:—
Some for setting above ground
Whole days and nights, upon their breeches,
And feeling pain, were hang’d for witches.
449
cf. again _The City Heiress_, Act i:—
Watch her close, watch her like a witch, Boy,
Till she confess the Devil in her,—— Love.
p. 235 _Count d’Olivarez._ Gaspar Guzman d’Olivarez was born at Rome,
1587. For many years all-powerful minister of Philip IV; he was
dismissed 1643, and died 20 July, 1645, in banishment at Toro.
p. 235 _a Venice Curtezan._ Venice, the home of Aretine and Casanova,
was long famous for the beauty and magnificence of her prostitutes.
This circumstance is alluded to by numberless writers, and Ruskin,
indeed, maintains that her decline was owing to this cause, which can
hardly be, since as early as 1340, when her power was only rising, the
public women were numbered at 11,654. Coryat has some curious matter on
this subject, and more may be found in _La Tariffa delle Puttane di
Venegia_, a little book often incorrectly ascribed to Lorenzo Venicro.
Act II: Scene i
p. 245 _They enter at another Door._ Vide note _Rover_ I, Act II, I, p.
30.
Act III: Scene i
p. 263 _Beso los manos, signor._ = Beso las manos, señor.
p. 265 _Don John._ The famous hero of Lepanto died, not without
suspicion of poison, in his camp at Namur, 1578. Otway introduces him
in _Don Carlos_ (1676).
Act III: Scene ii
p. 271 _Souses._ A slang term for the ‘ears’. cf. _The Roundheads_, Act
II, I, ‘a pair of large sanctify’d Souses.’
p. 271 _Butter-hams._ Apparently from Dutch boterham = a slice of bread
and butter. The two narrow strips of trimming on either side of the
cloak.
p. 272 _a Rummer of a Pottle._ A jug or goblet holding one pottle = two
quarts.
Act III: Scene iii
p. 278 _Snick-a-Sne._ A combat with knives amongst the Dutch. Snik:
Dutch = a sharp weapon. Dryden in his _Parallel betwixt Painting and
Poetry_ (4to, June, 1695) speaks of ‘the brutal sport of snick-or-sne’.
Mrs. Behn has happily put several characteristically Dutch phrases in
Haunce’s mouth.
p. 278 _Pharamond._ A heroic romance in twelve volumes, the seven first
of which are by the celebrated la Calprenède, the remainder being the
work of Pierre de Vaumorière. It was translated into English by J.
Phillips (London, 1677, folio). Lee has taken the story of Varanes in
his tragedy, _Theodosius_ (1680), from this romance.
Act IV: Scene i
p. 289 _Bethlehem-Gaber._ Bethlen-Gabor (Gabriel Bethlen), 1580-1629,
was a Hungarian noble who embraced the Protestant religion, and in
1613, with the help of an Ottoman army, succeeded in establishing
himself as King of Transylvania. His reign, although one long period of
warfare and truces, proved a most flourishing epoch for his country.
Himself a musician and a man of letters, he was constant in his
patronage of art and scholars, cf. Abraham Holland’s _Continued
Inquisition of Paper Persecutors_ (1626):—
But to behold the walls
Butter’d with weekly Newes composed in Pauls
By some decaied Captaine, or those Rooks
Whose hungry brains compile prodigious books
Of Bethlem Gabor’s preparations and
How terms betwixt him and th’ Emperor stand.
450
p. 291 _a Hoy._ A small vessel like a sloop, peculiarly Dutch. Pepys,
16 June, 1661, speaks of hiring ‘a Margate hoy’.
Act V: Scene ii
p. 323 _a Lapland Witch._ cf. _Paradise Lost_, Book II, l. 666:—
To dance
With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon
Eclipses at their charms.
Act V: Scene iia
p. 329 _the German Princess._ Mary Morders, alias Stedman, alias
Kentish Moll, a notorious imposter of the day, who pretended to be a
Princess from Germany. She had been transported to Jamaica in 1671, but
returning too soon and stealing a piece of plate, was hanged at Tyburn,
22 January, 1673. Her adventures formed the plot of a play by Tom
Porter, _A Witty Combat; or, The Female Victor_ (4to, 1663). Kirkman’s
_Counterfeit Lady Unveiled_ (8vo, 1673), contains very ample details of
her career. Pepys went to visit her ‘at the Gatehouse at Westminster’,
29 May, 1663. In talk he was ‘high in the defence of her wit and
spirit’ (7 June, 1663). 15 April, 1664, the diarist further notes: ‘To
the Duke’s house and there saw _The German Princess_ acted by the woman
herself ... the whole play ... is very simple, unless, here and there,
a witty sprinkle or two.’ This piece was doubtless identical with
Porter’s tragi-comedy.
p. 329 _four Shillings, or half a Crown._ Four shillings was the price
of admission to the boxes on the first tier of the theatre; half a
crown to the pit. These sums are very frequently alluded to in prologue
and epilogue. Dryden in his second epilogue to _The Duke of Guise_
(1682), after referring to the brawls and rioting of the pit, says:—
This makes our boxes full; for men of sense
Pay their four shillings in their own defence.
The epilogue (spoken by Mrs. Bontell) to Corye’s _The Generous Enemies_
(1671), has these lines:—
Though there I see—Propitious Angels sit [points at the Boxes.
Still there’s a Nest of Devils in the Pit,
By whom our Plays, like Children, just alive,
Pinch’d by the Fairies, never after thrive:
’Tis but your Half-crown, Sirs: that won’t undo.
Epilogue
p. 330 _Rotas._ The Rota was a political club founded in 1659 by James
Harrington. It advocated a system of rotation in filling government
offices.
331
THE ROUNDHEADS; OR,
THE GOOD OLD CAUSE.
332
Scenes described in (parentheses) are unnumbered.
Argument.
Source.
Theatrical History.
Dedication
Prologue
Dramatis Personæ.
Act I.
Scene I. _The Street._
Scene II. _A Chamber in Lambert’s House._
Act II.
Scene I. _A Chamber of State in Lambert’s House._
Act III.
Scene I. _A Council-Chamber._
Scene II. _A Chamber in Lady Desbro’s House._
Act IV.
Scene I. _A Chamber in La. Desbro’s House._
Scene II. _A fine Chamber in La. Lambert’s House._
Scene III. _A great Chamber of State._
Scene IV. _Flat._
Act V.
Scene I. _A Street._
Scene II. _A Chamber in La. Lambert’s House._
(_Table with Papers_)
Scene III. _The Street._
Scene IV. _A Chamber in Lambert’s House._
Scene V. _A Street._
Notes to _The Roundheads_
333
ARGUMENT.
The historical state of affairs 1659-60 was briefly as follows:—the
Protectorate of Richard Cromwell expired 22 April, 1659. Hereupon
Fleetwood and some other officers recalled the Long Parliament (Rump),
which was constituted the ruling power of England, a select council of
state having the executive. Lambert, however, with other dissentients
was expelled from Parliament, 12 October, 1659. He and his troops
marched to Newcastle; but the soldiers deserted him for General
Fairfax, who had declared for a free Parliament, and were garrisoned at
York. Here Monk, entering England 2 January, 1660, joined them with his
forces. Lambert, deprived of his followers, was obliged to return to
London. His prompt arrest by order of Parliament followed, and he, Sir
Harry Vane and other members of the Committee of Safety were placed in
strict confinement. On 5 March Lambert was imprisoned in the Tower,
whence he escaped on 10 April, only to be recaptured a fortnight later.
There are vivid pictures in Aubrey, Pepys, and other writers, of the
wild enthusiasm at the fall of the Rump Parliament, with bonfires
blazing, all the church bells ringing, and the populace of London
carousing and pledging King Charles on their knees in the street. ‘They
made little gibbets and roasted rumps of mutton. Nay, I saw some very
good rumps of beef,’ writes Aubrey, and Pepys is even more vivid in his
tale than the good antiquary.
King Charles landed at Dover, 26 May, amid universal rejoicings.
Mrs. Behn has (quite legitimately) made considerable departures from
strict historical fact and the sequence of events for her dramatic
purposes.
Lambert and Fleetwood are scheming for the supreme power, and both
intrigue with Lord Wariston, the chairman of the Committee of Safety,
for his good word and influence. Lambert meantime fools Fleetwood by
flattery and a feigned indifference. Lady Lambert, who is eagerly
expecting her husband to be proclaimed King, and is assuming the state
and title of royalty to the anger of Cromwell’s widow, falls in love
with a cavalier, Loveless. Her friend, Lady Desbro’, a thorough
loyalist at heart, though wedded to an old parliamentarian, has long
been enamoured of Freeman, the cavalier’s companion. Lambert surprises
Loveless and Freeman with his wife and Lady Desbro’, but Lady Lambert
pretending they have come to petition her, abruptly dismisses them both
and so assuages all suspicion. At a meeting of the Committee the two
gallants are sent to prison for a loyal outburst on the part of
Loveless. Ananias Goggle, a lay elder, who having offered liberties to
Lady Desbro’ is in her power, is by her obliged to obtain her lover’s
release, and she at once holds an interview with him. They are
interrupted by Desbro’ himself, but Freeman is concealed and makes an
undiscovered exit behind the shelter of Goggle’s flowing cloak.
Loveless is brought to Lady Lambert at night. She endeavours to dazzle
him by showing the regalia richly set out and adorned with lights. He
puts by, however, crown and sceptre and rebukes her overweening
ambition. Suddenly the Committee, who have been drinking deep, burst
334 in upon them dancing a riotous dance. Loveless is hurriedly
concealed under the coverlet of a couch, and Lady Lambert sits thereon
seemingly at her devotions. Her husband takes his place by her side,
but rolls off as the gallant slips to the ground. The lights fall down
and are extinguished, the men fly howling and bawling ‘A Plot! A Plot!’
in drunken terror. Lambert is cajoled and hectored into believing
himself mistaken owing to his potations. The ladies hold a council to
correct and enquire into women’s wrongs, but on a sudden, news is
brought that Lambert’s followers have turned against him and that he is
imprisoned in the Tower. The city rises against the Parliament and the
Rump is dissolved. Loveless and Freeman rescue Lady Lambert and Lady
Desbro’, whose old husband has fallen down dead with fright. The
parliamentarians endeavour to escape, but Wariston, Goggle, and
Hewson—a leading member of the Committee—are detected and maltreated by
the mob. As they are haled away to prison the people give themselves up
to general merry-making and joy.
SOURCE.
The purely political part of _The Roundheads; or, The Good Old Cause_
was founded by Mrs. Behn on John Tatham’s _The Rump_; or, _The Mirror
of the Late Times_ (4to, 1660, 4to, 1661, and again 1879 in his
collected works,) which was produced on the eve of the Restoration, in
February, 1660, at the Private House, i.e. small theatre, in Dorset
Court. The company which played here had been brought together by
William Beeston, but singularly little is known of its brief career and
only one name has been recorded, that of George Jolly, the leading
actor. Tatham was the author of the Lord Mayor’s pageants 1657-64. His
plays, four in number, together with a rare entertainment, _London’s
Glory_ (1660), have been well edited by Maidment and Logan.
_The Rump_ met with great success. It is certainly a brisk and lively
piece, and coming at the juncture it did must have been extraordinarily
effective. As a topical key-play reflecting the moment it is indeed
admirable, and the crescendo of overwhelming satire, all the keener for
the poet’s deep earnestness, culminating in the living actors,
yesterday’s lords and law-givers, running to and fro the London
streets, one bawling ‘Ink or pens, ink or pens!’, another ‘Boots or
shoes, boots or shoes to mend!’, a third ‘Fine Seville oranges, fine
lemons!’, whilst Mrs. Cromwell exchanges Billingsgate with a crowd of
jeering boys, must have caused the house absolutely to rock with
merriment.
With all its point and cleverness _The Rump_, however, from a technical
point of view, is ill-digested and rough. The scenes were evidently
thrown off hastily, and sadly lack refining and revision. Mrs. Behn has
made the happiest use of rather unpromising material. The intrigues
between Loveless and Lady Lambert, who in Tatham is very woodeny and
awkward, between Freeman and Lady Desbro’, which give _The Roundheads_
unity and dramatic point, are entirely her own invention. In the
original _Rump_ neither cavaliers nor Lady Desbro’ appear. Ananias
Goggle also, the canting lay elder of Clements, with his subtle
casuistry that jibs at ‘the person not the office,’ a dexterous
character sketch, alive and acute, we owe to Mrs. Behn.
335 Amongst the many plays, far too numerous even to catalogue, that
scarify the puritans and their zealot tribe, _The Cheats_ (1662), by
Wilson, and Sir Robert Howard’s _The Committee_ (1662), which long kept
the stage, and, in a modified form, _The Honest Thieves_, was seen as
late as the second half of the nineteenth century, are pre-eminently
the best. Both possess considerable merit and are worthy of the highest
comic traditions of the theatre.
As might have been expected, the dissolution of the Rump Parliament let
loose a flood of political literature, squibs, satires and lampoons.
Such works as _The famous Tragedie of the Life and Death of Mrs. Rump
... as it was presented on a burning stage at Westminster, the 29th of
May, 1660_ (4to, 1660), are of course valueless save from a purely
historical interest. A large number of songs and ballads were brought
together and published in two parts, 1662, reprint 1874. This
collection (_The Rump_), sometimes witty, sometimes angry, sometimes
obscene, is weighty evidence of the loathing inspired by the
republicans and their misrule, but it is of so personal and topical a
nature that the allusions would hardly be understood by any one who had
not made a very close and extended study of those critical months.
THEATRICAL HISTORY.
_The Roundheads; or, The Good Old Cause_ was produced at the Duke’s
Theatre in 1682. They were unsettled and hazardous times. The country
was convulsed by the judicial murders and horrors which followed in the
train of the pseudo-Popish Plot engineered by the abominable Gates and
his accomplices. King and Parliament were at hopeless variance. The air
was charged with strife, internecine hatreds and unrest. In such an
atmosphere and in such circumstances politics could not but make
themselves keenly felt upon the stage. The actors were indeed
‘abstracts and brief chronicles of the time’, and the theatre became a
very Armageddon for the poets. As _A Lenten Prologue refus’d by the
Players_ (1682) puts it:—
’Plots and Parties give new matter birth
And State distractions serve you here for mirth!
.......
The Stage, like old Rump Pulpits, is become
The scene of News, a furious Party’s drum.’
Produced on 4 December, 1682, Dryden and Lee’s excellent Tragedy, _The
Duke of Guise_, which the Whigs vainly tried to suppress, created a
furore. Crowne’s _City Politics_ (1683) is a crushing satire,
caricaturing Oates, Stephen College, old Sergeant Maynard and their
faction with rare skill. Southerne’s _Loyal Brother_ (1682), eulogizes
the Duke of York; the scope of D’Urfey’s _Sir Barnaby Whigg_ (1681),
can be told by its title, indeed the prologue says of the author:—
’That he shall know both parties now he glories,
By hisses th’ Whigs, and by their claps the Tories.’
His _Royalist_ (1682) follows in the same track.
Even those plays which were entirely non-political are inevitably
prefaced with a mordant prologue or wound up by an epilogue that has
party venom and mustard in its tail.
336 It would be surprising if so popular a writer as Mrs. Behn had not
put a political play on the stage at such a juncture, and we find her
well to the fore with _The Roundheads_, which she followed up in the
same year with _The City Heiress_, another openly topical comedy.
The cast of _The Roundheads_ is not given in any printed copy, and we
have no exact means of apportioning the characters, which must have
entailed the whole comic strength of the house. It is known that
Betterton largely refrained from appearing in political comedies, and
no doubt Smith took the part of Loveless, whilst Freeman would have
fallen to Joseph Williams. Nokes was certainly Lambert; and Leigh,
Wariston. Mrs. Leigh probably played Lady Cromwell or Gilliflower; Mrs.
Barry, Lady Lambert; and Mrs. Currer, Lady Desbro’. The piece seems to
have been very successful, and to have kept the stage at intervals for
some twenty years.
337
To the Right Noble
HENRY FITZ-ROY,
Duke of _Grafton_, Earl of _Sutton_, Viscount of _Ipswich_, Baron of
_Sudbury_, Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and Colonel of
his Majesties Regiment of Foot-Guards, &c.
May it please Your Grace,
Dedications which were Originally design’d, as a Tribute to the
Reverence and just esteem we ought to pay the _Great_ and _Good_ ; are
now so corrupted with Flattery, that they rarely either find a
Reception in the World, or merit that Patronage they wou’d implore. But
I without fear Approach the great Object, being above that mean and
mercenary Art; nor can I draw the Lovely Picture half so charming and
so manly as it is; and that Author may more properly boast of a Lucky
Hitt, whose choice and Fortune is so good, than if he had pleas’d all
the different ill Judging world besides in the business of the _Play_;
for none that way, can ever hope to please all; in an Age when Faction
rages, and different Parties disagree in all things—- But coming the
first day to a new Play with a Loyal Title, and then even the sober and
tender conscienc’d, throng as to a forbidden Conventicle, fearing the
Cub of their old Bear of Reformation should be expos’d, to be the scorn
of the wicked, and dreading (tho’ but the faint shadow of their own
deformity) their _Rebellion, Murders, Massacres_ and _Villanies_, from
forty upwards, should be represented for the better undeceiving and
informing of the World, flock in a full Assembly with a pious design to
Hiss and Rail it as much out of countenance as they would _Monarchy,
Religion, Laws_, and _Honesty_; throwing the _Act of Oblivion_ in our
Teeths, as if that (whose mercy cannot make them forget their old
Rebellion) cou’d hinder honest Truths from breaking out upon ’em in
Edifying Plays, where the Loyal hands ever out-do their venom’d Hiss; a
good and happy Omen, if Poets may be allow’d for Prophets as of old
they were: and ’tis as easily seen at a new Play how the Royal Interest
thrives, as at a City Election, how the _Good Old Couse_ is carried on;
as a Noble Peer lately said, _Tho’ the Tories have got the better of us
at the Play, we carried it in the City by many Voices, God be praised!_
This Play, call’d _The Roundheads_, which I humbly lay at your Graces
feet, Pardon the Title, and Heaven defend you from the bloody Race, was
carried in the House _nemine contra dicente_, by the Royal Party, and
under your Grace’s Illustrious Patronage is safe from any new Seditious
affronts abroad; Your Grace alone, whom Heaven and Nature has form’d
the most 338 adorable Person in the whole Creation, with all the
advantages of a glorious Birth, has a double right and power to defend
all that approach you for sanctuary; your very Beauty is a Guard to all
you daigne to make safe: for You were born for Conquest every way; even
what _Phanatick_, what peevish _Politician_, testy with _Age,
Diseases_, miscarried _Plots_, disappointed _Revolutions_, envious of
_Power_, of _Princes_, and of _Monarchy_, and mad with _Zeal_ for
_Change_ and _Reformation_, could yet be so far lost to sense of
Pleasure, as not to turn a Rebel to Revenge the _Good old Cause_, and
the patronage to _Plebean_ sedition with only looking on you, ’twou’d
force his meger face to blushing smiles, and make him swear he had
mistook the side, curse his own Party, and if possible, be reconciled
to Honesty again: such power have charms like Yours to calm the soul,
and will in spight of You plead for me to the disaffected, even when
they are at Wars with your Birth and Power. But this _Play_, for which
I humbly beg your Grace’s Protection, needs it in a more peculiar
manner, it having drawn down Legions upon its head, for its
Loyalty—_what, to Name us_ cries one, _’tis most abominable, unheard of
daring_ cries another—_she deserves to be swing’d_ cries a third; as if
twere all a Libel, a Scandal impossible to be prov’d, or that their
Rogueries were of so old a Date their Reign were past Remembrance or
History; when they take such zealous care to renew it daily to our
memories: And I am satisfied, that they that will justifie the best of
these Traytors, deserves the fate of the worst, and most manifestly
declare to the World by it, they wou’d be at the _Old Game_ their
fore-Fathers play’d with so good success: yet if there be any honest
loyal man allied to any here nam’d, I heartily beg his pardon for any
offensive Truth I have spoken, and ’tis a wonderful thing that amongst
so Numerous a Flock they will not allow of one mangy Sheep; not one
Rogue in the whole Generation of the Association.
_Ignoramus the_ 1st _and the_ 2d.
But as they are I leave ’em to your Grace to Judge of ’em; to whom I
humbly present this small Mirror, of the late wretched Times: wherein
your Grace may see something of the Miseries three the Most Glorious
Kingdoms of the Universe were reduc’d to; where your Royal Ancestors
victoriously Reign’d for so many hundred years: How they were Governed,
Parcell’d out, and deplorably inslav’d, and to what Low, Prostituted
Lewdness they fell at last: where the Nobility and Gentry were the most
contemn’d and despis’d part of them, and such Meane (and till then
obscure) Villains Rul’d, and Tyrannized, that no _Age_, nor _Time_, or
scarce a Parish Book makes mentions or cou’d show there was any such
Name or Family. Yet these were those that impudently Tug’d for Empire,
and Prophan’d that illustrious Throne and Court, so due then, and
possest now (through the infinite Mercies of God to this bleeding
Nation) by the best of Monarchs; 339 a Monarch, who had the divine
goodness to Pardon even his worst of Enemies what was past; Nay, out of
his Vast and God-like Clemency, did more than Heaven it self can do,
put it out of his Power by _an Act of Oblivion_, to punish the
unparalell’d Injuries done His Sacred Person, and the rest of the Royal
Family: How great his Patience has been since, I leave to all the World
to judge: but Heaven be prais’d, he has not yet forgot the Sufferings
and Murders of the Glorious Martyr of ever Blessed memory, Your Graces
Sacred Grandfather, and by what Arts and Ways that Devilish Plot was
layed! and will like a skilful Pilate, by the wreck of one Rich Vessel,
learn how to shun the danger of this present Threatning and save the
rest from sinking; The Clouds already begin to disappear, and the face
of things to change, thanks to Heaven, his Majesties infinite Wisdom,
and the Over-Zeal of the (falsly called) _True Protestant Party_; Now
we may pray for the King and his Royal Brother, defend his Cause, and
assert his Right, without the fear of a taste of the Old Sequestration
call’d a _Fine_; Guard the Illustrious Pair, good Heaven, from Hellish
Plots, and all the Devilish Machinations of Factious Cruelties: and
you, great Sir, (whose Merits have so Justly deserv’d that glorious
Command so lately trusted to your Care, which Heaven increase, and make
your glad Regiment Armies for our safety. May you become the great
Example of Loyalty and Obedience, and stand a firm and unmoveable
Pillar to _Monarchy_, a Noble Bullwark to _Majesty_; defend the Sacred
Cause, imploy all that Youth, Courage, and Noble Conduct which God and
Nature purposely has endued you with, to serve the Royal Interest: You,
Sir, who are obliged by a double Duty to Love, Honour, and Obey his
Majesty, both as a Father and a King! O undissolvable Knot! O Sacred
Union! what Duty, what Love, what Adoration can express or repay the
Debt we owe the first, or the Allegiance due to the last, but where
both meet in one, to make the Tye Eternal; Oh what Counsel, what Love
of Power, what fancied Dreams of Empire, what fickle Popularity can
inspire the heart of Man, or any Noble mind, with Sacrilegious thoughts
against it, can harbour or conceive a stubborn disobedience: Oh what
Son can desert the Cause of an Indulgent Parent, what Subject, of such
a Prince, without renouncing the Glory of his Birth, his Loyalty, and
good Nature.
Ah Royal lovely Youth! beware of false Ambition; wisely believe your
Elevated Glory, (at least) more happy then a Kings, you share their
Joys, their pleasures and magnificence, without the toils and business
of a _Monarch_, their carefull days and restless thoughtfull nights;
know, you art blest with all that Heaven can give, or you can wish;
your Mind and Person such, so excellent, that Love knows no fault it
would wish to mend, nor Envy to increase! blest with a Princess of such
undisputable charming Beauty, as if 340 Heaven, designing to take a
peculiar care in all that concerns your Happiness, had form’d her on
purpose, to compleat it.
Hail happy glorious Pair! the perfect joy and pleasure of all that look
on ye, for whom all Tongues and Hearts have Prayers and Blessings; May
you out-live Sedition, and see your Princely Race as Numerous as
Beautifull, and those all great and Loyal Supporters of a long Race of
_Monarchs_ of this Sacred Line, This shall be the perpetual wish, this
the Eternal Prayer of
_SIR,_
_Your Graces most Humble,
and most Obedient Servant,_
A. BEHN.
341
THE ROUND-HEADS;
or, the Good Old Cause.
PROLOGUE,
Spoken by the Ghost of _Hewson_ ascending from Hell dress’d as a
Cobler.
I am the Ghost of him who was a true Son
Of the late _Good Old Cause_, ycleped _Hewson_,
Rous’d by strange Scandal from th’ eternal Flame
With noise of Plots, of wondrous Birth and Name,
Whilst the sly Jesuit robs us of our Fame.
Can all their Conclave, tho with Hell th’ agree,
Act Mischief equal to Presbytery?
Look back on our Success in Forty One,
Were ever braver Villanies carried on,
Or new ones now more hopefully begun?
And shall our Unsuccess our Merit lose,
And make us quit the Glory of our Cause?
No, hire new Villains, Rogues without Remorse,
And let no Law nor Conscience stop your Course;
Let Politicians order the Confusion,
And let the Saints pay pious Contribution.
Pay those that rail, and those that can delude
With scribling Nonsense the loose Multitude.
Pay well your Witnesses, they may not run
To the right Side, and tell who set ’em on.
Pay ’em so well, that they may ne’er recant,
And so turn honest merely out of want.
Pay Juries, that no formal Laws may harm us,
Let Treason be secur’d by _Ignoramus_.
332 Pay Bully Whig, who loyal Writers bang,
And honest Tories in Effigie hang:
Pay those that burn the Pope to please the Fools,
And daily pay Right Honourable Tools;
Pay all the Pulpit Knaves that Treason brew,
And let the zealous Sisters pay ’em too;
Justices, bound by Oath and Obligation,
Pay them the utmost Price of their Damnation,
Not to disturb our useful Congregation.
Nor let the Learned Rabble be forgot,
Those pious Hands that crown our hopeful Plot.
No, modern Statesmen cry, ’tis Lunacy
To barter Treason with such Rogues as we.
But subtiler _Oliver_ did not disdain
His mightier Politicks with ours to join.
I for all Uses in a State was able,
Cou’d Mutiny, cou’d fight, hold forth, and cobble.
Your lazy Statesman may sometimes direct,
But your small busy Knaves the Treason act.
343
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
MEN. Lord _Fleetwood_,
Competitors for the Crown, but _Lambert_ is General of the Army.
Lord _Lambert_, Lord _Wariston_, Chairman of the Committee of Safety.
_Hewson_,
Commanders, and Committee-men.
_Desbro_, _Duckingfield_, _Corbet_, Lord _Whitlock_. _Ananias Goggle_,
Lay Elder of _Clement’s_ Parish. _A Rabble_ of the Sanctify’d Mobile.
Corporal _Right_, an _Oliverian_ Commander, but honest, and a Cavalier
in his Heart. _Loveless_, a Royalist, a Man of Honour, in love with
Lady _Lambert._ _Freeman_, his Friend, of the same Character, in love
with Lady _Desbro_. Captain of the Prentices. Two Pages to Lady
_Lambert_. _Tom_, Page to Lady _Desbro_. Page to Lady _Fleetwood_. A
Felt-maker. A Joyner. Doorkeeper. Two Clerks. Three Soldiers. WOMEN.
Lady _Lambert_, in love with _Loveless_. Lady _Desbro_, in love with
_Freeman_. Lady _Fleetwood_. Lady _Cromwell_. _Gilliflower_, Lady
_Lambert’s_ Old Woman. Several Ladies, for Redress of Grievances. Women
Servants to Lady _Lambert_. Petitioners, Servants, Guards, Footmen,
Fidlers, and a Band of Loyal City Apprentices.
344
ACT I.
Scene I. The Street.
Enter three _Soldiers_, and Corporal _Right_.
Cor. Ah, Rogue, the World runs finely round, the business is done.
1 Sold. Done! the Town’s our own, my fine Rascal.
2 Sold. We’ll have Harlots by the Belly, Sirrah.
1 Sold. Those are Commodities I confess I wou’d fain be trucking
for—but no words of that, Boy.
Cor. Stand, who goes there?
[To them a Joyner and a Felt-maker.
1 Sold. Who are you for?—hah!
Joy. Are for, Friend? we are for Gad and the Lord _Fleetwood_.
1 Sold. _Fleetwood!_ knock ’em down, _Fleetwood_, that sniveling Thief?
Felt. Why, Friends, who are ye for?
Cor. For! who shou’d we be for, but _Lambert_, Noble _Lambert?_ Is this
a time o’th’ day to declare for _Fleetwood_, with a Pox? indeed, i’th’
Morning ’twas a Question had like to have been decided with push a
Pike.
2 Sold. Dry blows wou’d ne’er ha’ don’t, some must have sweat Blood
for’t; but—’tis now decided.
Joy. Decided!
2 Sold. Yes, decided, Sir, without your Rule for’t.
Joy. Decided! by whom, Sir? by us the Free-born Subjects of _England_,
by the Honourable Committee of Safety, or the Right Reverend City?
without which, Sir, I humbly conceive, your Declaration for _Lambert_
is illegal, and against the Property of the People.
2 Sold. Plain _Lambert_; here’s a saucy Dog of a Joyner; 345 Sirrah,
get ye home, and mind your Trade, and save the Hangman a labour.
Joy. Look ye, Friend, I fear no Hang-man in _Christendom_; for
Conscience and Publick Good, for Liberty and Property, I dare as far as
any Man.
2 Sold. Liberty and Property, with a Pox, in the Mouth of a Joyner: you
are a pretty Fellow to settle the Nation—what says my Neighbour
Felt-maker?
Felt. Why, verily, I have a high respect for my honourable Lord
_Fleetwood_, he is my intimate Friend; and till I find his Party the
weaker, I hope my Zeal will be strengthned for him.
2 Sold. Zeal for _Fleetwood!_ Zeal for a Halter, and that’s your due:
Why, what has he ever done for you? Can he lead you out to Battle? Can
he silence the very Cannon with his Eloquence alone?—Can he talk—or
fight—or—
Felt. But verily he can pay those that can, and that’s as good—and he
can pray—
2 Sold. Let him pray, and we’ll fight, and see whose business is done
first; we are for the General who carries Charms in every Syllable; can
act both the Soldier and the Courtier, at once expose his Breast to
Dangers for our sakes—and tell the rest of the pretended Slaves a fair
Tale, but hang ’em sooner than trust ’em.
1 Sold. Ay, ay, a _Lambert_, a _Lambert_, he has Courage, _Fleetwood’s_
an Ass to him.
Felt. Hum—here’s Reason, Neighbour. [To the Joyner.
Joy. That’s all one, we do not act by Reason.
Cor. _Fleetwood’s_ a Coward.
2 Sold. A Blockhead.
1 Sold. A sniveling Fool; a General in the Hangings, no better.
Joy. What think you then of _Vane?_
2 Sold. As of a Fool, that has dreamt of a new Religion, and is only
fit to reign in the Fifth Monarchy he preaches so much up? but no King
in this Age.
346 Felt. What of _Haslerig_?
2 Sold. A Hangman for _Haslerig_. I cry, No, no, One and all, a
_Lambert_, a _Lambert_; he is our General, our Protector, our Keiser,
our—even what he pleases himself.
1 Sold. Well, if he pleases himself, he pleases me.
2 Sold. He’s our Rising Sun, and we’ll adore him, for the Speaker’s
Glory’s set.
Cor. At nought, Boys; how the Rogue look’d when his Coach was stop’d!
Joy. Under favour, what said the Speaker?
2 Sold. What said he? prithee, what cou’d he say that we wou’d admit
for Reason? Reason and our Bus’ness are two things: Our Will was Reason
and Law too, and the Word of Command lodg’d in our Hilts: _Cobbet_ and
_Duckenfield_ shew’d ’em Cockpit-Law.
Cor. He understood not Soldier’s Dialect; the Language of the Sword
puzzled his Understanding; the Keenness of which was too sharp for his
Wit, and over-rul’d his Robes—therefore he very mannerly kiss’d his
Hand, and wheel’d about—
2 Sold. To the place from whence he came.
Cor. And e’er long to the place of Execution.
1 Sold. No, damn him, he’ll have his Clergy.
Joy. Why, is he such an Infidel to love the Clergy?
Cor. For his Ends; but come let’s go drink the General’s Health,
_Lambert_; not _Fleetwood_, that Son of a Custard, always quaking.
2 Sold. Ay, ay, _Lambert_ I say—besides, he’s a Gentleman.
Felt. Come, come, Brother Soldier, let me tell you, I fear you have a
_Stewart_ in your Belly.
Cor. I am sure you have a Rogue in your Heart, Sirrah, which a Man may
perceive thro that sanctified Dog’s Face of yours; and so get ye gone,
ye Rascals, and delude the Rabble with your canting Politicks. [Every
one beats ’em.
Felt. Nay, an you be in Wrath, I’ll leave you.
347 Joy. No matter, Sir, I’ll make you know I’m a Freeborn Subject,
there’s Law for the Righteous, Sir, there’s Law. [Go out.
Cor. There’s Halters, ye Rogues—
2 Sold. Come, Lads, let’s to the Tavern, and drink Success to Change; I
doubt not but to see ’em chop about, till it come to our great Hero
again—Come to the Tavern.
[Going out, are met by _Loveless_ and _Freeman_, who enter, and stay
the _Corporal_.
Cor. I’ll follow ye, Comrade, presently.
[Ex. the rest of the Soldiers.
—Save ye, noble Colonel.
Free. How is’t, Corporal?
Cor. A brave World, Sir, full of Religion, Knavery, and Change: we
shall shortly see better Days.
Free. I doubt it, Corporal.
Cor. I’ll warrant you, Sir,—but have you had never a Billet, no
Present, nor Love—remembrance to day, from my good Lady _Desbro?_
Free. None, and wonder at it. Hast thou not seen her Page to day?
Cor. Faith, Sir, I was imploy’d in Affairs of State, by our Protector
that shall be, and could not call.
Free. Protector that shall be! who’s that, _Lambert_, or _Fleetwood_,
or both?
Cor. I care not which, so it be a Change; but I mean the General:—but,
Sir, my Lady _Desbro_ is now at Morning-Lecture here hard by, with the
Lady _Lambert_.
Lov. Seeking the Lord for some great Mischief or other.
Free. We have been there, but could get no opportunity of speaking to
her—_Loveless_, know this Fellow—he’s honest and true to the Hero, tho
a Red-Coat. I trust him with my Love, and have done with my Life.
Lov. Love! Thou canst never make me believe thou art earnestly in love
with any of that damn’d Reformation.
Free. Thou art a Fool; where I find Youth and Beauty, I adore, let the
Saint be true or false.
348 Lov. ’Tis a Scandal to one of us to converse with ’em; they are all
sanctify’d Jilts; and there can neither be Credit nor Pleasure in
keeping ’em company; and ’twere enough to get the Scandal of an Adherer
to their devilish Politicks, to be seen with ’em.
Free. What, their Wives?
Lov. Yes, their Wives. What seest thou in ’em but Hypocrisy? Make love
to ’em, they answer in Scripture.
Free. Ay, and lie with you in Scripture too. Of all Whores, give me
your zealous Whore; I never heard a Woman talk much of Heaven, but she
was much for the Creature too. What do’st think I had thee to the
Meeting for?
Lov. To hear a Rascal hold forth for Bodkins and Thimbles,
Contribution, my beloved! to carry on the good Cause, that is, Roguery,
Rebellion, and Treason, profaning the sacred Majesty of Heaven, and our
glorious Sovereign.
Free. But—were there not pretty Women there?
Lov. Damn ’em for sighing, groaning Hypocrites.
Free. But there was one, whom that handsome Face and Shape of yours,
gave more occasion for sighing, than any Mortification caus’d by the
Cant of the Lay-Elder in the half Hogs-Head: Did’st thou not mind her?
Lov. Not I, damn it, I was all Rage; and hadst not thou restrain’d me,
I had certainly pull’d that Rogue of a Holder forth by the Ears from
his sanctify’d Tub. ’Sdeath, he hum’d and haw’d all my Patience away,
nosed and snivel’d me to Madness. Heaven! That thou shouldst suffer
such Vermin to infect the Earth, such Wolves amongst thy Flocks, such
Thieves and Robbers of all Laws of God and Man, in thy Holy Temples. I
rave to think to what thou’rt fall’n, poor _England!_
Free. But the she Saint—
Lov. No more; were she as fair as Fancy could imagine, to see her there
wou’d make me loath the Form; she that can listen to the dull Nonsense,
the bantering of such a 349 Rogue, such an illiterate Rascal, must be a
Fool, past sense of loving, _Freeman_.
Free. Thou art mistaken.—But, didst thou mind her next the Pulpit?
Lov. A Plague upon the whole Congregation: I minded nothing but how to
fight the Lord’s Battle with that damn’d sham Parson, whom I had a mind
to beat.
Free. My Lady _Desbro_ is not of that Persuasion, but an errant Heroick
in her Heart, and feigns it only to have the better occasion to serve
the Royal Party. I knew her, and lov’d her before she married.
Lov. She may chance then to be sav’d.
Free. Come, I’ll have thee bear up briskly to some one of ’em, it may
redeem thy Sequestration; which, now thou see’st no hopes of
compounding, puts thee out of Patience.
Lov. Let ’em take it, and the Devil do ’em Good with it; I scorn it
should be said I have a Foot of Land in this ungrateful and accursed
Island; I’d rather beg where Laws are obey’d, and Justice perform’d,
than be powerful where Rogues and base-born Rascals rule the roast.
Free. But suppose now, dear _Loveless_, that one of the Wives of these
Pageant Lords should fall in love with thee, and get thy Estate again,
or pay the double for’t?
Lov. I wou’d refuse it.
Free. And this for a little dissembl’d Love, a little Drudgery—
Lov. Not a Night, by Heaven—not an Hour—no, not a single Kiss. I’d
rather make love to an _Incubus_.
Free. But suppose ’twere the new Protectress her self, the fine Lady
_Lambert?_
Lov. The greatest Devil of all; damn her, do’st think I’ll cuckold the
Ghost of old _Oliver_?
Free. The better; There’s some Revenge in’t; do’st know her?
Lov. Never saw her, nor care to do.
Cor. Colonel, do you command me any thing?
350 Free. Yes, I’ll send thee with a Note—Let’s step into a Shop and
write it; _Loveless_, stay a moment, and I’ll be with thee. [Ex.
_Free._ and _Corporal_.
Enter L. _Lambert_, L. _Desbro_, _Gilliflower_, _Pages_ with great
Bibles, and Footmen. _Loveless_ walks sullenly, not seeing ’em. [L.
_Lambert’s_ Train carried.
L. Lam. O, I’m impatient to know his Name; ah, _Desbro_, he betray’d
all my Devotion; and when I would have pray’d, Heav’n knows it was to
him, and for him only.
L. Des. What manner of Man was it?
L. Lam. I want Words to describe him; not tall, nor short; well made,
and such a Face—
Love, Wit and Beauty revel’d in his Eyes;
From whence he shot a thousand winged Darts
That pierc’d quite through my Soul.
L. Des. Seem’d he a Gentleman?
L. Lam. A God! altho his outside were but mean;
But he shone thro like Lightning from a Cloud,
And shot more piercing Rays.
L. Des. Staid he long?
L. Lam. No, methought he grew displeas’d with our Devotion,
And seem’d to contradict the Parson with his angry Eyes.
A Friend he had too with him, young and handsom,
Who seeing some Disorder in his Actions, got him away.
—I had almost forgot all Decency,
And started up to call him; but my Quality,
And wanting something to excuse that Fondness,
Made me decline with very much ado.
Gill. Heavens, Madam, I’ll warrant they were Heroicks.
L. Lam. Heroicks!
Gill. Cavaliers, Madam, of the Royal Party.
L. Des. They were so, I knew one of ’em.
L. Lam. Ah, _Desbro_, do’st thou? Ah, Heav’ns, that they should prove
Heroicks!
351 L. Des. You might have known that by the Conquest; I never heard
any one o’t’ other Party ever gain’d a Heart; and indeed, Madam, ’tis a
just Revenge, our Husbands make Slaves of them, and they kill all their
Wives. [_Lov._ sees ’em, and starts.
Lov. Hah, what have we here?—Women—faith, and handsome too—I never saw
a Form more excellent; who e’er they are, they seem of Quality.—By
Heav’n, I cannot take my Eyes from her. [Pointing to L. _Lamb_.
L. Lam. Ha, he’s yonder, my Heart begins to fail,
My trembling Limbs refusing to support me—
His Eyes seem fix’d on mine too; ah, I faint— [Leans on _Des_.
Gill. My Lady’s Coach, _William_—quickly, she faints.
Lov. Madam, can an unfortunate Stranger’s aid add any thing to the
recovery of so much Beauty? [Bowing, and holding her.
L. Lam. Ah, wou’d he knew how much! [Aside.
Gill. Support her, Sir, till her Ladyship’s Coach comes—I beseech ye.
Lov. Not _Atlas_ bore up Heaven with greater Pride.
L. Lam. —I beg your Pardon, Sir, for this Disorder,
That has occasion’d you so great a Trouble—
You seem a Gentleman—and consequently
May need some Service done you; name the way,
I shall be glad to let you see my Gratitude.
Lov. If there be ought in me, that merits this amazing Favour from you,
I owe my Thanks to Nature that endow’d me with something in my Face
that spoke my Heart.
L. Lam. Heaven! How he looks and speaks— [To _Desbro_, aside.
L. Des. Oh, these Heroicks, Madam, have the most charming Tongues.
L. Lam. Pray come to me—and ask for any of my Officers, and you shall
have admittance—
352 Lov. Who shall I ask for, Madam? for I’m yet ignorant to whom I owe
for this great Bounty.
L. Lam. Not know me! Thou art indeed a Stranger.
I thought I’d been so elevated above the common Crowd,
it had been visible to all Eyes who I was.
Lov. Pardon my Ignorance.
My Soul conceives ye all that Heaven can make ye,
Of Great, of Fair and Excellent;
But cannot guess a Name to call you by
But such as would displease ye—
My Heart begins to fail, and by her Vanity
I fear she’s one of the new Race of Quality:
—But be she Devil, I must love that Form. [Aside.
L. Lam. Hard Fate of Greatness, we so highly elevated
Are more expos’d to Censure than the little ones,
By being forc’d to speak our Passions first.
—Is my Coach ready?
Page. It waits your Honour.
L. Lam. I give you leave to visit me—ask for the General’s Lady, if my
Title be not by that time alter’d.
Lov. Pistols and Daggers to my Heart—’tis so.
L. Lam. Adieu, Sir.
[Ex. all but _Lov._ who stands musing.
Enter _Freeman_.
Free. How now, what’s the matter with thee?
Lov. Prithee wake me, _Freeman_.
Free. Wake thee!
Lov. I dream; by Heaven I dream;
Nay, yet the lovely Phantom’s in my View.
Oh! wake me, or I sleep to perfect Madness.
Free. What ail’st thou? what did’st dream of?
Lov. A strange fantastick Charmer,
A thing just like a Woman Friend;
It walkt and lookt with wondrous Majesty,
Had Eyes that kill’d, and Graces deck’d her Face;
353 But when she talk’d, mad as the Winds she grew,
Chimera in the form of Angel, Woman!
Free. Who the Devil meanest thou?
Lov. By Heav’n I know not, but, as she vanish’d hence, she bad me come
to the General’s.
Free. Why, this is she I told thee ey’d thee so at the Conventicle;
’tis _Lambert_, the renown’d, the famous Lady _Lambert_—Mad call’st
thou her? ’tis her ill acted Greatness, thou mistak’st; thou art not
us’d to the Pageantry of these Women yet: they all run thus mad; ’tis
Greatness in ’em, _Loveless._
Lov. And is thine thus, thy Lady _Desbro?_
Free. She’s of another Cut, she married, as most do, for Interest—but
what—thou’t to her?
Lov. If Lightning stop my way:—
Perhaps a sober View may make me hate her. [Exeunt both.
Scene II. A Chamber in _Lambert’s_ House.
Enter _Lambert_ and _Whitlock_.
Whit. My Lord, now is your time, you may be King; Fortune is yours,
you’ve time it self by th’ Fore-lock.
Lam. If I thought so, I’d hold him fast, by Heaven.
Whit. If you let slip this Opportunity, my Lord, you are undone—_Aut
Cæsar, aut Nullus._
Lam. But _Fleetwood_—
Whit. Hang him, soft Head.
Lam. True, he’s of an easy Nature; yet if thou didst but know how
little Wit governs this mighty Universe, thou wou’dst not wonder Men
should set up him.
Whit. That will not recommend him at this _Juncto_, tho he’s an
excellent Tool for your Lordship to make use of; and therefore use him,
Sir, as _Cataline_ did _Lentulus_; drill the dull Fool with Hopes of
Empire on, and that all tends to his Advancement only: The Blockhead
will believe the Crown his own: What other Hopes could make him 354
ruin Richard, a Gentleman of Qualities a thousand times beyond him?
Lam. They were both too soft; an ill Commendation for a General, who
should be rough as Storms of War it self.
Whit. His time was short, and yours is coming on; Old Oliver had his.
Lam. I hate the Memory of that Tyrant Oliver.
Whit. So do I, now he’s dead, and serves my Ends no more. I lov’d the
Father of the great Heroick, whilst he had Power to do me good: he
failing, Reason directed me to the Party then prevailing, the Fag-end
of the Parliament: ’tis true, I took the Oath of Allegiance, as Oliver,
your Lordship, Tony, and the rest did, without which we could not have
sat in that Parliament; but that Oath was not for our Advantage, and so
better broke than kept.
Lam. I am of your Opinion, my Lord.
Whit. Let Honesty and Religion preach against it. But how cou’d I have
serv’d the Commons by deserting the King? how have I show’d my self
loyal to your Interest, by fooling Fleet-wood, in the deserting of
Dick; by dissolving the honest Parliament, and bringing in the odious
Rump? how cou’d I have flatter’d Ireton, by telling him Providence
brought thingsabout, when ’twas mere Knavery all; and that the Hand of
the Lord was in’t, when I knew the Devil was in’t? or indeed, how cou’d
I now advise you to be King, if I had started at Oaths, or preferr’d
Honesty or Divinity before Interest and the Good Old Came?
Lam. Nay,’tis most certain, he that will live in this World, must be
endu’d with the three rare Qualities of Dissimulation, Equivocation,
and mental Reservation.
Whit. In which Excellency, Heav’n be prais’d, we out-do the Jesuits.
Enter Lady _Lambert_.
L. Lam. I’m glad to see you so well employ’d, my Lord, as in Discourse
with my Lord Whitlock, he’s of our Party, and has Wit.
355 Whit. Your Honour graces me too much.
Lam. My Lord, my Lady is an absolute States-woman.
L. Lam. Yes, I think things had not arriv’d to this exalted height, nor
had you been in prospect of a Crown, had not my Politicks exceeded your
meaner Ambition.
Lam. I confess, I owe all my good Fortune to thee.
Enter _Page_.
Page. My Lord, my Lord _Wariston_, Lord _Hewson_, Colonel _Cobbet_, and
Colonel _Duckenfield_ desire the Honour of waiting on you.
L. Lam. This has a Face of Greatness—let ’em wait a while i’th’
Antichamber.
Lam. My Love, I would have ’em come in.
L. Lam. You wou’d have ’em! you wou’d have a Fool’s Head of your own;
pray let me be Judge of what their Duty is, and what your Glory: I say
I’ll have ’em wait.
Page. My Lord _Fleetwood_ too is just alighted, shall lie wait too,
Madam?
L. Lam. He may approach: and d’ye hear—put on your fawning Looks,
flatter him, and profess much Friendship to him, you may betray him
with the more facility.
Whit. Madam, you counsel well. [Ex. _Page_.
_Page_ re-enters with Lord _Fleetwood_.
Lam. My good Lord, your most submissive Servant.
Whit. My gracious Lord, I am your Creature—your Slave—
Fleet. I profess ingeniously, I am much engag’d to you, my good Lords;
I hope things are now in the Lard’s handling, and will go on well for
his Glory and my Interest, and that all my good People of _England_
will do things that become good Christians.
Whit. Doubt us not, my good Lord; the Government cannot be put into
abler Hands than those of your Lordship; it has hitherto been in the
hard Clutches of _Jews, Infidels_, and _Pagans_.
356 Fleet. Yea, verily, Abomination has been in the Hands of Iniquity.
Lam. But, my Lord, those Hands, by my good Conduct, are now cut off,
and our Ambition is, your Lordship wou’d take the Government upon you.
Fleet. I profess, my Lord, by yea and nay, I am asham’d of this
Goodness, in making me the Instrument of saving Grace to this Nation;
’tis the great Work of the Lard.
L. Lam. The Lard! Sir, I’ll assure you the Lard has the least Hand in
your good Fortune; I think you ought to ascribe it to the Cunning and
Conduct of my Lord here, who so timely abandon’d the Interest of
_Richard_.
Fleet. Ingeniously I must own, your good Lord can do much, and has done
much; but ’tis our Method to ascribe all to the Powers above.
L. Lam. Then I must tell you, your Method’s an ungrateful Method.
Lam. Peace, my Love.
Whit. Madam, this is the Cant we must delude the Rabble with.
L. Lam. Then let him use it there, my Lord, not amongst us, who so well
understand one another.
Lam. Good Dear, be pacified—and tell me, shall the Gentlemen without
have Admittance?
L. Lam. They may. [_Page_ goes out.
Enter _Hewson_, _Desbro_, _Duckenfield_, _Wariston_, and _Cobbet_.
War. Guds Benizon light on yu, my gued Loords, for this Day’s Work;
Madam, I kiss your white Honds.
Duc. My Lord, I have not been behind-hand in this Day’s turn of State.
Lam. ’Tis confess’d, Sir; what would you infer from that?
Duc. Why, I wou’d know how things go; who shall be General, who
Protector?
Hews. My Friend has well translated his meaning.
357 L. Lam. Fy, how that filthy Cobler Lord betrays his Function.
Duc. We’re in a Chaos, a Confusion, as we are.
Hews. Indeed the Commonwealth at present is out at Heels, and wants
underlaying.
Cob. And the People expect something suddenly from us.
Whit. My Lords and Gentlemen, we must consider a while.
War. Bread a gued there’s mickle Wisdom i’that, Sirs.
Duc. It ought to be consulted betimes, my Lord, ’tis a matter of
Moment, and ought to be consulted by the whole Committee.
Lam. We design no other, my Lord, for which Reason at three a Clock
we’ll meet at _Wallingford_ House.
Duc. Nay, my Lord, do but settle the Affair, let’s but know who’s our
Head, and ’tis no matter.
Hews. Ay, my Lord, no matter who; I hope ’twill be _Fleetwood_, for I
have the length of his Foot already.
Whit. You are the leading Men, Gentlemen, your Voices will soon settle
the Nation.
Duc. Well, my Lord, we’ll not fail at three a Clock.
Des. This falls out well for me; for I’ve Business in _Smithfield_,
where my Horses stand; and verily, now I think on’t, the Rogue the
Ostler has not given ’em Oates to day: Well, my Lords, farewel; if I
come not time enough to _Wallingford_ House, keep me a Place in the
Committee, and let my Voice stand for one, no matter who.
War. A gued Mon I’s warrant, and takes muckle Pains for the Gued o’th’
Nation, and the Liberty o’th Mobily—The Diel confound ’em aud.
Lam. Come, my Lord _Wariston_, you are a wise Man, what Government are
you for.
War. Ene tol what ya please, my gued Loord. [Takes him aside.
Lam. What think you of a single Person here in my Lord _Fleetwood?_
358 War. Marry, Sir, and he’s a brave Mon, but gen I may cooncel, tak’t
for yar sel my gued Loord, ant be gued for him, ’tis ene gued for ya
te.
Lam. But above half the Nation are for him.
War. Bread a gued, and I’s for him then.
Fleet. The Will of the Lard be done; and since ’tis his Will, I cannot
withstand my Fate—ingeniously.
Whit. My Lord _Wariston_, a Word—What if _Lambert_ were the Man? [Takes
him aside.
War. Right Sir, Wons and ya have spoken aud; he’s a brave Mon, a Mon
indeed gen I’s have any Judgment.
Whit. So I find this Property’s for any use. [Aside.
Lam. My Lord, I perceive Heaven and Earth conspire to make you our
Prince.
Fleet. Ingeniously, my Lords, the Weight of three Kingdoms is a heavy
Burden for so weak Parts as mine: therefore I will, before I appear at
Council, go seek the Lard in this great Affair; and if I receive a
Revelation for it, I shall with all Humility espouse the Yoke, for the
Good of his People and mine; and so Gad with us, the Commonwealth of
_England_. [Exeunt _Fleet._ _Desbro_, _Wariston_, _Due._ _Cob._ _Hews_,
and _Whit._
L. Lam. Poor deluded Wretch, ’tis not yet come to that.
Lam. No, my dear, the Voice will go clearly for me; what with Bribes to
some, Hypocrisy and Pretence of Religion to others, and promis’d
Preferments to the rest, I have engag’d ’em all.
L. Lam. And will you be a King?
Lam. You think that’s so fine a thing—but let me tell you, my Love, a
King’s a Slave to a Protector, a King’s ty’d up to a thousand Rules of
musty Law, which we can break at pleasure; we can rule without
Parliaments, at least chuse whom we please, make ’em agree to our
Proposals, or set a Guard upon ’em, and starve ’em till they do.
L. Lam. But their Votes are the strangest things—that they must pass
for Laws; you were never voted King.
359
Lam. No, nor care to be: The sharpest Sword’s my Vote, my Law, my
Title. They voted _Dick_ should reign, where is he now? They voted the
great Heroicks from the Succession; but had they Arms or Men, as I
have, you shou’d soon see what wou’d become of their Votes—No, my Love!
’tis this—must make me King. [His Sword.
Let _Fleetwood_ and the Rump go seek the Lard,
My Empire and my Trust is in my Sword.
ACT II.
Scene I. A Chamber of State in _Lambert’s_ House.
Enter L. _Lambert_, _Gilliflower_, and Women-servants.
L. Lam. _Gilliflower_, has none been here to ask for any of my People,
in order to his approach to me?
Gill. None, Madam.
L. Lam. Madam! How dull thou art? wo’t never learn to give me a better
Title than such an one as foolish Custom bestows on every common Wench?
Gill. Pardon my Ignorance, Madam.
L. Lam. Again Madam?
Gill. Really, Madam, I shou’d be glad to know by what other Title you
wou’d be distinguish’d?
L. Lam. Abominable dull! Do’st thou not know on what score my Dear is
gone to _Wallingford_ House?
Gill. I cannot divine, Madam.
L. Lam. Heaven help thy Ignorance! he’s gone to be made Protector,
Fool, or at least a King, thou Creature; and from this Day I date my
self her Highness.
Gill. That will be very fine indeed, an’t please your Highness.
L. Lam. I think ’twill sute better with my Person and Beauty than with
the other Woman—what d’ye call her? Mrs. _Cromwell_—my Shape—and
Gate—my Humour, 360 and my Youth have something more of Grandeur, have
they not?
Gill. Infinitely, an’t please your Highness.
Enter _Page_.
Page. Madam, a Man without has the boldness to ask for your Honour.
L. Lam. Honour, Fool!
Gill. Her Highness, Blockhead.
Page. Saucily prest in, and struck the Porter for denying him entrance
to your—Highness.
L. Lam. What kind of Fellow was’t?
Page. A rude, rough, hectoring Swash, an’t please your Highness; nay,
and two or three times, Gad forgive me, he swore too.
L. Lam. It must be he. [Aside.
Page. His Habit was something bad and Cavalierish—I believe ’twas some
poor petitioning, begging Tory, who having been sequester’d, wou’d
press your Highness for some Favour.
L. Lam. Yes, it must be he—ah, foolish Creature! and can he hope
Relief, and be a villanous Cavalier? out upon ’em, poor Wretches—you
may admit him tho’, for I long to hear how one of those things talk.
Gill. Oh, most strangely, Madam—an please your Highness, I shou’d say.
Enter _Loveless_.
L. Lam. ’Tis he, I’ll swear, _Gilliflower_, these Heroicks are punctual
men—how now, your Bus’ness with us, Fellow?
Lov. My Bus’ness, Madam?—
L. Lam. Hast thou ever a Petition to us?
Lov. A Petition, Madam?—Sure this put—on Greatness is to amuse her
Servants, or has she forgot that she invited me? or indeed forgot me?—
[Aside.
L. Lam. What art thou?
361 Page. Shall we search his Breeches, an’t please your Highness, for
Pistol, or other Instruments?
L. Lam. No, Boy, we fear him not, they say the Powers above protect the
Persons of Princes. [Walks away.
Lov. Sure she’s mad, yet she walks loose about,
And she has Charms even in her raving Fit.
L. Lam. Answer me. What art thou?—
How shall I get my Servants hence with Honour? [Aside.
Lov. A Gentleman—
That could have boasted Birth and Fortune too,
Till these accursed Times, which Heaven confound,
Razing out all Nobility, all Virtue,
Has render’d me the rubbish of the World;
Whilst new rais’d Rascals, Canters, Robbers, Rebels,
Do lord it o’er the Free-born, Brave and Noble.
L. Lam. You’re very confident, know you to whom you speak? but I
suppose you have lost your Estate, or some such trivial thing, which
makes you angry.
Lov. Yes, a trivial Estate of some five and twenty hundred Pound a
Year: but I hope to see that Rogue of a Lord reduc’d to his
Cobler’s-Stall again, or more deserv’dly hang’d, that has it.
L. Lam. I thought ’twas some such Grievance—but you must keep a good
Tongue in your Head, lest you be hang’d for _Scandalum
Magnatum_—there’s Law for ye, Sir.
Lov. No matter, then I shall be free from a damn’d Commonwealth, as you
are pleas’d to call it, when indeed ’tis but a mungrel, mangy,
Mock-Monarchy.
L. Lam. Is it your business, Sir, to rail?
Lov. You rais’d the Devil, Madam.
Page. Madam, shall I call your Highness’s Guards, and secure the
Traitor?
L. Lam. No, that you may see how little I regard or fear him; leave us
all— [Ex. all but _Gill._
We’ll trust our Person in his Hands alone—
—Now, Sir—Your Bus’ness? [Smilingly approaches him.
362 Lav. Madam, I waited here by your Commands.
L. Lam. How shall I tell him that I love him, Gilliflower?
Gill. Easily, Madam, tell him so in plain _English_. Madam,’tis great;
Women of your exalted height ever speak first; you have no Equals dare
pretend to speak of Love to you.
L. Lam. Thou art i’th’ right—Do’st know my Quality, and thy own
Poverty? And hast thou nothing to ask that I may grant?
Lav. Sure she loves me! and I, frail Flesh and Blood, Cannot resist her
Charms; but she’s of the damn’d Party. [Aside.
L. Lam. Are all your Party, Sir, so proud?
Lov. But what have I to do with Religion! Is Beauty the worse, or a
kind Wench to be refus’d for Conventickling? She lives high on the
Spoils of a glorious Kingdom, and why may not I live upon the Sins of
the Spoiler? [Aside.
L. Lam. Sir—you are poor!
Lov. So is my Prince; a Plague on the occasion.
L. Lam. I think you are—no Fool too.
Lov. I wou’d I were, then I had been a Knave, had thriv’d, and possibly
by this time had been tugging for rifled Crowns and Kingdoms.
L. Lam. This Satir ill befits my present Bus’ness with you—you—want
some Necessaries—as Clothes, and Linen too; and ’tis great pity so
proper a Man shou’d want Necessaries. _Gilliflower_—take my Cabinet
Key, and fetch the Purse of Broad-pieces that lies in the lower Drawer;
’tis a small Present, Sir, but ’tis an Earnest of my farther Service.
[_Gill._ goes out and returns with a Purse.
Lov. I’m angry, that I find one Grain of Generosity in this whole Race
of Hypocrites. [Aside.
L. Lam. Here, Sir,’tis only for your present use; for Clothes—three
hundred Pieces; let me see you sweet—
Lov. Stark mad, by this good Day.
L. Lam. Ah, _Gilliflower!_ How prettily those Cavalier 363 things
charm; I wonder how the Powers above came to give them all the Wit,
Softness, and Gallantry—whilst all the great ones of our Age have the
most slovenly, ungrateful, dull Behaviour; no Air, no Wit, no Love, nor
any thing to please a Lady with.
Gill. Truly, Madam, there’s a great Difference in the Men; yet Heaven
at first did its part, but the Devil has since so over-done his, that
what with the Vizor of Sanctity, which is the gadly Sneer, the drawing
of the Face to a prodigious length, the formal Language, with a certain
Twang through the Nose, and the pious Gogle, they are fitter to scare
Children than beget love in Ladies.
Lav. You hit the Character of your new Saint.
L. Lam. And then their Dress, _Gilliflower_.
Gil. Oh! ’Tis an Abomination to look like a Gentleman; long Hair is
wicked and cavalierish, a Periwig is flat Popery, the Disguise of the
Whore of _Babylon_; handsom Clothes, or lac’d Linen, the very Tempter
himself, that debauches all their Wives and Daughters; therefore the
diminutive Band, with the Hair of the Reformation Cut, beneath which a
pair of large sanctify’d Souses appear, to declare to the World they
had hitherto escap’d the Pillory, tho deserv’d it as well as _Pryn_.
L. Lam. Have a care what you say, _Gilliflower_.
Gil. Why, Madam, we have no Informers here.
Enter _Page_.
Page. Madam, here’s Old _Noll’s_ Wife desires Admittance to your
Hon—your Highness.
L. Lam. Bid the poor Creature wait without, I’ll do her what Good I can
for her Husband’s sake, who first infus’d Politicks into me, by which I
may boast I have climb’d to Empire.
Lov. So, her Madness runs in that Vein I see. [Aside.
Gil. Alack, Madam, I think she’s coming.
Crom. [without] Does she keep State in the Devil’s Name, and must I
wait?
364 L. Lam. Heavens! I shall be scandalized by the Godly. Dear
_Gilliflower_, conceal my Cavalier; I would not have a Cavalier seen
with me for all the World—Step into my Cabinet. [Ex. _Gil._ and _Lov._
Enter L. _Cromwel_, held back by a Man—to them _Gilliflower_.
Crom. Unhand me, Villain—’twas not long since a Rudeness, Sir, like
this had forfeited thy Head.
L. Lam. What wou’d the Woman?
Crom. The Knave, the perjur’d Villain thy Husband, by th’ Throat: thou
proud, imperious Baggage, to make me wait; whose Train thou hast been
proud to bear—how durst thou, after an Affront like this, trust thy
false Face within my Fingers reach? that Face, that first bewitch’d the
best of Husbands from me, and tempted him to sin.
Gil. I beseech your Highness retire, the Woman’s mad.
Crom. Highness in the Devil’s Name, sure ’tis not come to that; no, I
may live to see thy Cuckold hang’d first, his Politicks are yet too
shallow, Mistress. Heavens! Did my Husband make him Lord for this?
raise him to Honour, Trusts, Commands, and Counsels,
To ruin all our Royal Family,
Betray young _Richard_, who had reign’d in Peace
But for his Perjuries and Knaveries;
And now he sooths my Son-in-law, soft _Fleetwood_,
With empty hopes of Pow’r, and all the while
To make himself a King:
No, Minion, no; I yet may live to see
Thy Husband’s Head o’th’ top of _Westminster_,
Before I see it circled in a Crown.
L. Lam. I pity the poor Creature.
Crom. Ungrateful Traytor as he is,
Not to look back upon his Benefactors;
But he, in lieu of making just Returns,
Reviles our Family, profanes our Name,
365 And will in time render it far more odious
Than ever _Needham_ made the great Heroicks.
L. Lam. Alas, it weeps, poor Woman!
Crom. Thou ly’st, false Strumpet, I scorn to shed a Tear,
For ought that thou canst do or say to me;
I’ve too much of my Husband’s Spirit in me.
Oh, my dear _Richard_, hadst thou had a Grain on’t,
Thou and thy Mother ne’er had fall’n to this.
Gil. His Father sure was seeking of the Lard when he was got.
Enter L. _Fleetwood_, her Train born up.
Crom. Where is this perjur’d Slave, thy Wittal Lord?
Dares he not shew his Face, his guilty Face,
Before the Person he has thus betray’d?
L. Fleet. Madam, I hope you mistake my honour’d Lord _Lambert_, I
believe he designs the Throne for my dear Lord.
Crom. Fond Girl, because he has the Art of fawning,
Dissembling to the height, can sooth and smile,
Profess, and sometimes weep:—
No, he’ll betray him, as he did thy Brother;
_Richard_ the Fourth was thus deluded by him.
No, let him swear and promise what he will,
They are but steps to his own ambitious End;
And only makes the Fool, thy credulous Husband,
A silly deluded Property.
Enter _Fleetwood_.
Fleet. My honour’d Mother, I am glad to find you here; I hope we shall
reconcile things between ye. Verily we should live in Brotherly Love
together; come, ingeniously, you shall be Friends, my Lady Mother.
Crom. Curse on th’ occasion of thy being a Kin to me.
Fleet. Why, an please ye, forsooth, Madam?
Crom. My Daughter had a Husband,
Worthy the Title of my Son-in-Law;
_Ireton_, my best of Sons: he’d Wit and Courage,
366 And with his Counsels, rais’d our House to Honours,
Which thy impolitick Easiness pulls down:
And whilst you should be gaining Crowns and Kingdoms,
Art poorly couzening of the World with fruitless Prayers.
Fleet. Nay, I’ll warrant you, Madam, when there is any gadly Mischief
to be done, I am as forward as the best; but ’tis good to take the Lard
along with us in every thing. I profess ingeniously, as I am an honest
Man, verily—ne’er stir—I shall act as becomes a good Christian.
Crom. A good Coxcomb.
Do’st thou not see her reverend Highness there,
That Minion now assumes that glorious Title
I once, and my Son _Richard’s_ Wife enjoy’d,
Whilst I am call’d the Night-mare of the Commonwealth?
But wou’d I were, I’d so hag-ride the perjur’d Slaves,
Who took so many Oaths of true Allegiance
To my great Husband first, then to _Richard_—
Who, whilst they reign’d, were most illustrious,
Most high and mighty Princes; whilst fawning Poets
Write Panegyricks on ’em; and yet no sooner was
The wondrous Hero dead, but all his glorious
Titles fell to Monster of Mankind, Murderer
Of Piety, Traytor to Heaven and Goodness.
Fleet. Who calls him so? Pray take their Names down: I profess
ingeniously, forsooth, Madam, verily I’ll order ’em, as I am here I
will.
Crom. Thou, alas! they scorn so poor a thing as thou.
Fleet. Do they ingeniously? I’ll be even with ’em, forsooth, Mother, as
I am here I will, and there’s an end on’t.
Crom. I wou’d there were an end of our Disgrace and Shame,
Which is but just begun, I fear.
What will become of that fair Monument
Thy careful Father did erect for thee, [To L. _Fleetwood_.
Yet whilst he liv’d, next to thy Husband _Ireton_,
367 Lest none shou’d do it for thee after he were dead;
The Malice of proud _Lambert_ will destroy all.
Fleet. I profess, Madam, you mistake my good Lord _Lambert_, he’s an
honest Man, and fears the Lard; he tells me I am to be the Man; verily
he does, after all’s done.
Cram. Yes, after all’s done, thou art the Man to be pointed at.
Fleet. Nay, ingeniously, I scorn the Words, so I do: I know the great
Work of Salvation to the Nation is to be wrought by me, verily.
Crom. Do, cant on, till Heaven drop Kingdoms in thy Mouth: Dull, silly
Sot, thou Ruin of our Interest; thou fond, incorrigible, easy Fool.
Enter _Page_.
Page. My Lord, the Committee of Safety waits your coming.
Fleet. Why, law you now, forsooth—I profess verily, you are ingeniously
the hardest of Belief—tell the Honourable Lords I’m coming: Go,
Lady-mother, go home with my Wife; and verily you’ll see things go to
your wish—I must to Coach.
L. Fleet. Madam, your humble Servant. [To La. _Lam._
Fleet. Honour’d Lady, I kiss your Hands.
[Exeunt _Crom._ _Fleet_, and L. _Fleet._
Enter _Loveless_.
Lov. Was this the thing that is to be Protector?
This little sniveling Fellow rule three Kingdoms?
But leave we Politicks, and fall to Love,
Who deals more Joys in one kind happy moment
Than Ages of dull Empire can produce.
L. Lam. Oh Gods! shall I who never yielded yet,
But to him to whom three Kingdoms fell a Sacrifice,
Surrender at first Parley?
Lov. Perhaps that Lover made ye gayer Presents,
But cou’d not render you a Heart all Love,
368 Or Mind embyass’d in Affairs of Blood.
—I bring no Guilt to fright you from my Embraces,
But all our Hours shall be serene and soft.
L. Lam. Ah, _Gilliflower_, thy Aid, or I am lost;
Shall it be said of me in after Ages,
When my Fame amongst Queens shall be recorded,
That I, ah Heavens! regardless of my Country’s Cause,
Espous’d the wicked Party of its Enemies,
The Heathenish Heroicks? ah, defend me!
Lov. Nay—by all that’s—
L. Lam. Ah, hold! Do not profane my Ears with Oaths or Execrations, I
cannot bear the Sound.
Lov. Nay, nay—by Heav’n I’ll not depart your Lodgings, till that soft
Love that plays so in your Eyes give me a better Proof—by—
L. Lam. Oh hold, I die, if you proceed in this Abomination.
Lov. Why do you force me to’t? d’ye think to put me off with such a
Face—such Lips—such Smiles—such Eyes, and every Charm—You’ve made me
mad, and I shall swear my Soul away, if disappointed now.
Gil. Ah, save the Gentleman’s Soul, I beseech ye, Madam.
L. Lam. I’m much inclin’d to Acts of Piety—And you have such a Power,
that howe’er I incommode my Honour— [Leaning on him, smiling. He goes
to lead her out, Enter La. _Desbro_.
—_Desbro_ here! How unseasonably she comes?
L. Des. Cry mercy, Madam, I’ll withdraw a while.
L. Lam. Ah, _Desbro!_ thou art come in the most lucky Minute—I was just
on the point of falling—As thou say’st, these Heroicks have the
strangest Power—
L. Des. I never knew a Woman cou’d resist ’em.
L. Lam. No marvel then, our Husbands use ’em so, betray ’em, banish
’em, sequester, murder ’em, and every way disarm ’em—
L. Des. But their Eyes, Madam.
369 L. Lam. Ay, their Eyes, _Desbro_; I wonder our Lords shou’d take
away their Swords, and let ’em wear their Eyes.
L. Des. I’ll move it to the Committee of Safety, Madam, those Weapons
should be taken from ’em too.
L. Lam. Still they’ll have some to be reveng’d on us.
L. Des. Ay, so they will will; My Lord says, a Cavalier is a kind of
_Hydra_, knock him o’th’ Head as often as you will, he has still one to
peep up withal.
Enter _Page_.
Page. Madam, here’s Mr. _Freeman_ to speak with your Honour.
Lov. That’s a Friend of mine, Madam, and ’twou’d be unnecessary he saw
your Highness and I together: let us withdraw—
L. Lam. Withdraw! why, what will _Desbro_ say?
L. Des. O Madam, I know your Virtue and your Piety too well to suspect
your Honour wrongfully: ’tis impossible a Lady that goes to a
Conventicle twice a Day, besides long Prayers and loud Psalm—singing,
shou’d do any thing with an Heroick against her Honour. Your known
Sanctity preserves you from Scandal—But here’s _Freeman_— [Puts ’em in.
Enter _Freeman_.
Free. So, Madam—you are very kind—
L. Des. My charming _Freeman_, this tedious Day of Absence has been an
Age in love. How hast thou liv’d without me?
Free. Like one condemn’d, sad and disconsolate, And all the while you
made your Husband happy.
L. Des. Name not the Beastly Hypocrite, thou know’st I made no other
use of him, But a dull Property to advance our Love.
Free. And ’tis but Justice, _Maria_, he sequester’d me of my whole
Estate, because, he said, I took up Arms in _Ireland_, on Noble
_Ormond’s_ Side; nay, hir’d Rogues, 370 perjur’d Villains—Witnesses
with a Pox, to swear it too; when at that time I was but Eight Years
Old; but I escap’d as well as all the Gentry and Nobility of _England_.
To add to this, he takes my Mistress too.
L. Des. You mistake, my lovely _Freeman_; I married only thy Estate,
the best Composition I cou’d make for thee, and I will pay it back with
Interest too.
Free. You wou’d suspect my Love then, and swear that all the Adoration
I pay you, were, as we do to Heav’n, for Interest only.
L. Des. How you mistake my Love, but do so still, so you will let me
give these—Proofs of it. [Gives him Gold.
Free. Thus, like _Atlante_, you drop Gold in my Pursuit
To Love, I may not over-take you:
What’s this to giving me one happy minute?
Take back your Gold, and give me current Love,
The Treasure of your Heart, not of your Purse—
When shall we meet, _Maria?_
L. Des. You know my leisure Hours are when my Honourable Lord is busied
in Affairs of State, or at his Prayers; from which long-winded Exercise
I have of late withdrawn my self: three Hours by the Clock he prays
extemporary, which is, for National and Household Blessings: For the
first—’tis to confound the Interest of the King, that the Lard wou’d
deliver him, his Friends, Adherers and Allies, wheresoever scatter’d
about the Face of the whole Earth, into the Clutches of the Righteous:
Press ’em, good Lard, even as the Vintager doth the Grape in the
Wine-Press, till the Waters and gliding Channels are made red with the
Blood of the Wicked. [In a Tone.
Free. And grant the Faithful to be mighty, and to be strong in
Persecution; and more especially, ah! I beseech thee confound that
malignant Tory _Freeman_—that he may never rise up in judgment against
thy Servant, who has taken from him his Estate, his Sustenance and
Bread; give him Grace of thy infinite Mercy, to hang himself, if 371
thy People can find no zealous Witnesses to swear him to the Gallows
legally. Ah, we have done very much for thee, Lard, thou shoud’st
consider us thy Flock, and we shou’d be as good to thee in another
thing. [In a Tone.
L. Des. Thou hit’st the zealous Twang right; sure thou hast been
acquainted with some of ’em.
Free. Damn ’em, no; what honest Man wou’d keep ’em Company, where
harmless Wit and Mirth’s a Sin, laughing scandalous, and a merry Glass
Abomination?
L. Des. Yes, if you drink Healths, my wicked Brother: otherwise, to be
silently drunk, to be as abusive and satirical as you please, upon the
Heroicks, is allowable—for laughing, ’tis not indeed so well; but the
precise Sneer and Grin is lawful; no swearing indeed, but lying and
dissimulation in abundance. I’ll assure you, they drink as deep, and
entertain themselves as well with this silent way of leud Debauchery,
as you with all your Wit and Mirth, your Healths of the Royal Family.
Free. Nay, I confess, ’tis a great Pleasure to cheat the World.
L. Des. ’Tis Power, as divine _Hobbes_ calls it.
Free. But what’s all this to Love? Where shall we meet anon?
L. Des. I’ll tell you, what will please you as well—Your Friend is
within with her Highness that shall be, if the Devil and her Husband’s
Politicks agree about the matter.
Free. Ha, has my cautious Railer manag’d matters so slyly?
L. Des. No, no, the matter was manag’d to his Hand; you see how Heav’n
brings things about, for the Good of your Party; this Business will be
worth to him at least a thousand Pound a year, or two, well manag’d—But
see, my Lady’s Woman.
Gil. Oh, Madam, my Lord— [Running cross the Stage into her Lady’s
Chamber.
Free. Death, how shall I bring my Friend off? he’ll certainly be
ruin’d.
372
Enter _Gill._ _Lov._ and Lady _Lam._
Gill. Madam, he’s coming up.
Lov. Madam, for my self I care not, but am much concern’d for you.
[L. _Lam._ takes two Papers out of her Pocket, and gives ’em to _Lov._
and _Free_.
L. Lam. Here take these two Petitions, each of you one—Poor Fellows—you
may be gone, your Petitions will not be granted.
Enter _Lambert_.
Lam. How now, my Dear, what Petitions?—Friends, what’s your Bus’ness?
L. Lam. ’Tis enough we know their Business, Love, we are sufficient to
dispatch such Suiters, I hope.
Lam. Pardon me, my Dear, I thought no harm; but I saw you frown, and
that made me concern’d.
L. Lam. Frown! ’Twou’d make any Body frown, to hear the Impudence of
Gentlemen, these Cavaliers—wou’d you think it, my Dear, if this Fellow
has not the Impudence to petition for the Thirds of his Estate again,
so justly taken from him for bearing Arms for the Man?—
L. Des. Nay, I’m inform’d, that they, but two Nights ago, in a Tavern,
drunk a Health to the Man too.
Lam. How durst you, Sirrah, approach my Lady with any such saucy
Address? you have receiv’d our Answer.
Lov. Death, I have scarce Patience. [Aside.
Free. We knew, my Lord, the Influence your Ladies have over you, and
Women are more tender and compassionate naturally than Men; and, Sir,
’tis hard for Gentlemen to starve.
L. Lam. Have you not able Limbs? can ye not work?
Lov. Persons of our Education work!
Lam. Starve or beg then.
L. Lam. Education! why, I’ll warrant there was that young Creature they
call the Duke of _Glocester_, was as 373 well educated as any Lad in
the Parish; and yet you see he should have been bound Prentice to a
Handy-Crafts Trade, but that our Lords could not spare Money to bind
him out, and so they sent him to beg beyond Sea.
Lov. Death, I shall do Mischief: not all the Joy she gave me but now,
can atone for this Blasphemy against the Royal Youth. [Aside.
Free. Patience—Well, my Lord, we find you are obdurate, and we’ll
withdraw.
Lam. Do so: And if you dare presume to trouble us any more, I’ll have
you whip’d, d’ye hear.
L. Des. Madam, I’ll take my leave of your Ladyship.
[Ex. _Lov._ _Free._ and L. _Des._
L. Lam. My Lord, ’twas I that ought to threaten ’em—but you’re so
forward still—what makes you from the Committee?
Lam. I left some Papers behind.
L. Lam. And they’ll make use of your Absence to set up _Fleetwood_
King.
Lam. I’ll warrant ye, my Dear.
L. Lam. You’ll warrant! you are a Fool, and a Coxcomb; I see I must go
my self, there will be no Bus’ness done till I thunder ’em together:
They want Old _Oliver_ amongst ’em, his Arbitrary Nod cou’d make ye all
tremble; when he wanted Power or Money, he need but cock in Parliament,
and lay his Hand upon his Sword, and cry, I must have Money, and had
it, or kick’d ye all out of Doors: And you are all mealy mouth’d, you
cannot cock for a Kingdom.
Lam. I’ll warrant ye, Dear, I can do as good a thing for a Kingdom.
L. Lam. You can do nothing as you shou’d do’t: You want Old _Oliver’s_
Brains, Old _Oliver’s_ Courage, and Old _Oliver’s_ Counsel: Ah, what a
politick Fellow was little Sir _Anthony!_ What a Head-piece was there!
What a plaguy Fellow Old _Thurlo_, and the rest! But get ye back, 374
and return me Protector at least, or never hope for Peace again.
Lam. My Soul, trouble not thy self, go in—
With mine no Power can equal be,
And I will be a King to humour thee. [Exeunt.
ACT III.
Scene I. A Council-Chamber, great Table, Chairs, and Papers.
Enter two Clerks, who lay Papers in Order, and Doorkeeper.
Door. Come, haste, haste, the Lords are coming—keep back there, room
for the Lords, room for the honourable Lords: Heav’n bless your
Worships Honours.
Enter _Lambert_, _Fleetwood_, _Whitlock_, _Wariston_, discoursing
earnestly; to them _Duckenfield_, _Cobbet_, _Hewson_, _Desbro_, and
others; _Duck._ takes _Wariston_ by the Hand, and talks to him.
War. Bread a gued, Gentlemen, I’s serv’d the Commonwealth long and
faithfully; I’s turn’d and turn’d to aud Interest and aud Religions
that turn’d up Trump, and wons a me, but I’s get naught but Bagery by
my Sol; I’s noo put in for a Pansion as well as rest o ya Loones.
Cob. What we can serve you in, my Lord, you may command.
Duc. And I too, my Lord, when the Government is new moulded.
War. Wons, Sirs, and I’s sa moold it, ’twas ne’er sa moolded sen the
Dam boon’d the Head on’t.
Duc. I know there are some ambitious Persons that are for a single
Person; but we’ll have hot Work e’er we yield to that.
War. The faud Diel take ’em then for _Archibald_; ’tis warse than
Monarchy.
Duc. A thousand times: have we with such Industry 375 been pulling down
Kings of the Royal Family, to set up Tyrants of our own, of mean and
obscure Birth? No, if we’re for a single Person, I’m for a lawful one.
War. Wons and ya have spoken aud, my Lord, so am I.
Due. But _Lambert_ has a busy, haughty Spirit, and thinks to carry it;
but we’ll have no single Person.
War. Nor I, ods Bread; the faud Diel brest the Wem of _Lambert_, or any
single Person in _England_. I’s for yare Interest, my gued Lords.
[Bowing.
Lam. My Lord _Wariston_, will you please to assume the Chair?
Enter _Loveless_, _Freeman_, and others with Petitions.
War. Ah, my gued Loord, I’s yare most obedient humble Servant. [Bowing
to _Lam._ all set.
All. Hum, hum.
Fleet. My Lords and Gentlemen, we are here met together in the Name of
the Lard—
Duc. Yea, and I hope we shall hang together as one Man—A Pox upon your
Preaching. [Aside.
Fleet. —And hope this Day’s great Work will be for his Praise and
Glory.
Duc. ’Bating long Graces, my Lord, we are met together for the Bus’ness
of the Nation, to settle it, and to establish a Government.
Fleet. Yea, verily: and I hope you will all unanimously agree, it shall
be your unworthy Servant.
Lam. What else, my Lord.
Fleet. And as thou, Lard, hast put the Sword into my Hand—
Due. So put it into your Heart—my Lord, to do Justice.
Fleet. Amen.
Due. I’d rather see it there than in your Hand— [Aside.
Fleet. For we are, as it were, a Body without a Head; or, to speak more
learnedly, an Animal inanimate.
Hew. My Lord, let us use, as little as we can, the 376 Language of the
Beast, hard Words; none of your Eloquence, it savoureth of Monarchy.
Lam. My Lord, you must give Men of Quality leave to speak in a Language
more gentile and courtly than the ordinary sort of Mankind.
Hew. My Lord, I am sorry to hear there are any of Quality among this
honourable Dissembly. [Stands up.
Cob. Assembly, my Lord—
Hew. Well, you know my meaning; or if there be any such, I’m sorry they
should own themselves of Quality.
Due. How! own themselves Gentlemen! Death, Sir, d’ye think we were all
born Coblers?
Hew. Or if you were not, the more the pity, for little _England_, I
say. [In a heat.
Fleet. Verily, my Lords, Brethren should not fall out, it is a Scandal
to the good Cause, and maketh the wicked rejoice.
War. Wons, and theys garr the loosey Proverb on’t te, _when loons gang
together by th’ luggs, gued men get their ene._
All. He, he, he.
Due. He calls you Knaves by Craft, my Lords.
War. Bread a gued, take’t among ye, Gentlemen, I’s ment weel.
Fleet. I profess, my Lord _Wariston_, you make my Hair stand an end to
hear how you swear.
War. Wons, my Loord, I’s swear as little as your Lordship, only I’s
swear out, and ye swallow aud.
Due. There’s a Bone for you to pick, my Lord.
All. He, he, he.
Lam. We give my Lord _Wariston_ leave to jest.
Des. But what’s this to the Government all this while? A dad I shall
sit so late, I shall have no time to visit my Horses, therefore proceed
to the Point.
Hew. Ay, to the Point, my Lords; the Gentleman that spoke last spoke
well.
Cob. Well said, Brother, I see you will in time speak properly.
377 Duc. But to the Government, my Lords! [Beats the Table.
Lam. Put ’em off of this Discourse, my Lord. [Aside to _War._
Des. My Lord _Wariston_, move it, you are Speaker.
War. The Diel a me, Sirs, and noo ya talk of a Speaker, I’s tell ye a
blithe Tale.
Fleet. Ingeniously, my Lord, you are to blame to swear so.
Lam. Your Story, my Lord.
War. By my Sol, mon, and there war a poor Woman the other Day, begg’d
o’th’ Carle the Speaker, but he’d give her nought unless she’d let a
Feart; wons at last a Feart she lat. Ay marry, quoth the Woman, noo my
Rump has a Speaker te.
All. He, he, he.
Due. But to our Bus’ness—
Des. Bus’ness; ay, there’s the thing, I’ve a World on’t. I shou’d go
and bespeak a Pair of Mittins and Shears for my Hedger and Shearer, a
pair of Cards for my Thrasher, a Scythe for my Mower, and a Screen-Fan
for my Lady-Wife, and many other things; my Head’s full of Bus’ness. I
cannot stay—
Whit. Fy, my Lord, will you neglect the bus’ness of the Day? We meet to
oblige the Nation, and gratify our Friends.
Des. Nay, I’ll do any thing, so I may rise time enough to see my Horses
at Night.
Lav. Damn ’em, what stuff’s here for a Council-Table?
Free. Where are our _English_ Spirits, that can be govern’d by such
Dogs as these?—
Lam. Clerk, read the Heads of what past at our last sitting.
War. In the first place, I must mind your Lordships tol consider those
that have been gued Members in the Commonwealth.
Fleet. We shall not be backward to gratify any that have serv’d the
Commonwealth.
378 Whit. There’s Money enough; we have taxt the Nation high.
Due. Yes, if we knew where to find it: however, read.
Clerk reads.] To _Walter Walton_, Draper, six thousand nine hundred
twenty nine Pounds six Shillings and five Pence, for Blacks for his
Highness’s Funeral.
Lam. For the Devil’s; put it down for _Oliver Cromwel’s_ Funeral: We’ll
have no Record rise up in Judgment for such a Villain.
Lav. How live Asses kick the dead Lion! [Aside.
Due. Hark ye, my Lords, we sit here to reward Services done to the
Commonwealth; let us consider whether this be a Service to the
Commonwealth or not?
Lam. However, we will give him Paper for’t.
Hews. Ay, let him get his Money when he can.
Lam. Paper’s not so dear, and the Clerk’s Pains will be rewarded.
War. Right, my gued Lord,’sbred, that _Cromwel_ was th’ faudest limmer
Loon that ever cam into lour Country, the faud Diel has tane him by th’
Luggs for robbing our Houses and Land.
Fleet. No swearing, my Lord.
War. Weel, weel, my Loord, I’s larne to profess and lee as weel as best
on ya.
Hews. That may bring you profit, my Lord—but, Clerk, proceed.
Clerk reads.] To _Walter Frost_, Treasurer of the Contingencies, twenty
thousand Pounds. To _Thurloe_, Secretary to his Highness—
Duc. To old _Noll_.
Clerk reads.] —Old Noll, ten thousand Pounds, for unknown Service done
the Commonwealth—To Mr. _Hutchinson_, Treasurer of the Navy, two
hundred thousand Pounds—
War. Two hundred thousand Pound; Owns, what a Sum’s there?—Marry it
came from the Mouth of a Cannon sure.
379 Clerk reads.] A Present to the Right Honourable and truly Virtuous
Lady, the Lady _Lambert_, for Service done to the late Protector—
Hews. Again—say _Cromwel_.
Clerk. —Cromwel—six thousand Pound in _Jacobus’s_.
War. ’Sbread, sike a Sum wou’d make me honour the Face of aud _Jemmy_.
Clerk. To Mr. _Ice_ six thousand Pound; to Mr. _Loether_, late
Secretary to his High—
Whit. To _Oliver Cromwel_ say, can you not obey Orders?
Clerk. —Secretary to _Oliver Cromwel_—two thousand nine hundred ninety
nine Pounds for Intelligence and Information, and piously betraying the
King’s Liege People.
War. Haud, haud, Sirs, Mary en ya gift se fast ya’ll gif aud away from
poor _Archibald Johnson_.
Whit. Speak for your self, my Lord; or rather, my Lord, do you speak
for him. [To _Lam._
Lam. Do you move it for him, and I’ll do as much for you anon. [Aside
to _Whit._
Whit. My Lord, since we are upon Gratifications,—let us consider the
known Merit of the Lord _Wariston_, a Person of industrious Mischiefs
to the malignant Party, and great Integrity to us, and the
Commonwealth.
War. Gued faith, an I’s ha been a trusty Trojon, Sir, what say you, may
very gued and gracious Loords?—
Duc. I scorn to let a Dog go unrewarded; and you, Sir, fawn so
prettily, ’tis pity you shou’d miss Preferment.
Hews. And so ’tis; come, come, my Lords, consider he was ever our
Friend, and ’tis but reasonable we shou’d stitch up one another’s
broken Fortunes.
Duc. Nay, Sir, I’m not against it.
All. ’Tis Reason, ’tis Reason.
Free. Damn ’em, how they lavish out the Nation!
War. Scribe, pretha read my Paper.
Hews. Have you a Pertition there?
Cob. A Petition, my Lord.
380 Hews. Pshaw, you Scholards are so troublesome.
Lam. Read the Substance of it. [To the Clerk.
Clerk. That your Honours wou’d be pleas’d, in consideration of his
Service, to grant to your Petitioner, a considerable Sum of Money for
his present Supply.