[Enter in the Prison, meeting, George and Captain, George
coming in muffled.]
CAPTAIN.
How now, who’s that? what are you?
PYE.
The same that I should be, Captain.
CAPTAIN.
George Pye-board, honest George? why camst thou in half
fac’d, muffled so?
PYE.
Oh, Captain, I thought we should ne’er ha laught again,
never spent frolick hour again.
CAPTAIN.
Why? why?
PYE.
I coming to prepare thee, and with news
As happy as thy quick delivery,
Was trac’d out by the sent, arrested, Captain.
CAPTAIN.
Arrested, George!
PYE.
Arrested: gesse, gesse; how many Dogs do you think I’d
upon me?
CAPTAIN.
Dogs? I say? I know not.
PYE.
Almost as many as George Stone the Bear:
Three at once, three at once.
CAPTAIN.
How didst thou shake ’em off, then?
PYE.
The time is busy, and calls upon out wits.
Let it suffice,
Here I stand safe, and scapt by miracle.
Some other hour shall tell thee, when we’ll steep
Our eyes in laughter. Captain, my device
Leans to thy happiness, for ere the day
Be spent toth’ Girdle, thou shalt be set free.
The Corporal’s in his first sleep, the Chain is missed,
Thy Kinsman has exprest thee, and the old Knight
With Palsey-hams now labours thy release:
What rests is all in thee, to Conjure, Captain.
CAPTAIN.
Conjure! sfoot, George, you know the devil a conjuring I
can conjure.
PYE.
The Devil of conjuring? Nay, by my fay, I’d not have thee
do so much, Captain, as the Devil a conjuring: look here,
I ha brought thee a circle ready charactered and all.
CAPTAIN.
Sfoot, George, art in thy right wits? doost know what
thou sayest? why doost talk to a Captain of conjuring?
didst thou ever hear of a Captain conjure in thy life?
doost cal’t a Circle? tis too wide a thing, me thinks:
had it been a lesser Circle, then I knew what to have done.
PYE.
Why, every fool knows that, Captain: nay, then, I’ll not
cog with you, Captain; if you’ll stay and hang the next
Sessions, you may.
CAPTAIN.
No, by my faith, George: come, come, let’s to conjuring,
let’s to conjuring.
PYE.
But if you look to be released—as my wits have took
pain to work it, and all means wrought to farther it—
besides to put crowns in your purse, to make you a man
of better hopes, and whereas before you were a Captain
or poor Soldier, to make you now a Commander of rich fools,
(which is truly the only best purchase peace can allow
you) safer then High-ways, Heath, or Cunny-groves, and
yet a far better booty; for your greatest thieves are
never hangd, never hangd, for, why, they’re wise, and
cheat within doors: and we geld fools of more money in
one night, then your false tailed Gelding will purchase
in a twelve-month’s running; which confirms the old Beldam
saying, he’s wisest, that keeps himself warmest; that is,
he that robs by a good fire—
CAPTAIN.
Well opened, yfaith, George; thou has pulled that saying
out of the husk.
PYE.
Captain Idle, tis no time now to delude or delay: the old
Knight will be here suddenly. I’ll perfect you, direct
you, tell you the trick on’t: tis nothing.
CAPTAIN.
Sfoot, George, I know not what to say toot: conjure? I
shall be hand ere I conjure.
PYE.
Nay, tell not me of that, Captain; you’ll ne’er conjure
after you’re hangd, I warrant you. Look you, sir, a parlous
matter, sure! First, to spread your circle upon the ground,
then, with a little conjuring ceremony, as I’ll have an
Hackney-man’s wand silvered ore a purpose for you,—then
arriving in the circle, with a huge word, and a great
trample, as for instance:—have you never seen a stalking-
stamping Player, that will raise a tempest with his tongue,
and thunder with his heels?
CAPTAIN.
O yes, yes, yes: often, often.
PYE.
Why, be like such a one, for any thing will blear the old
Knight’s eyes: for you must note that he’ll ne’er dare to
venture into the room, only perhaps peep fearfully through
the Key hold, to see how the Play goes forward.
CAPTAIN.
Well, I may go about it when I will, but mark the end ont:
I shall but shame my self, ifaith, George. Speak big words,
and stamp and stare, and he look in at Key-hold! why, the
very thought of that would make me laugh out-right, and
spoil all: nay, I’ll tell thee, George, when I apprehend
a thing once, I am of such a laxative laughter, that if the
Devil him-self stood by, I should laugh in his face.
PYE.
Puh, that’s but the babe of a man, and may easily be husht;
as to think upon some disaster, some sad misfortune, as the
death of thy Father ithe Country!
CAPTAIN.
Sfoot, that would be the more to drive me into such an
extasy, that I should ne’er lin laughing.
PYE.
Why, then, think upon going to hanging else.
CAPTAIN.
Mass, that’s well remembred; now I’ll do well, I warrant
thee, ne’er fear me now: but how shall I do, George, for
boisterous words, and horrible names?
PYE.
Puh, any fustian invocations, Captain, will serve as well
as the best, so you rant them out well; or you may go to a
Pothecaries shop, and take all the words from the Boxes.
CAPTAIN.
Troth, and you say true, George; there’s strange words
enow to raise a hundred Quack-salvers, tho they be ne’er
so poor when they begin. But here lies the fear on’t, how
if in this false conjuration, a true Devil should pop up
indeed?
PYE.
A true Devil, Captain? why there was ne’er such a one: nay,
faith, he that has this place is as false a Knave as our
last Church-warden.
CAPTAIN.
Then he’s false enough a conscience, ifaith, George.
[The Crie at Marshalsea.]
CRIE PRISONERS.
Good Gentlemen over the way, send your relief. Good
Gentlemen over the way,—Good sir Godfrey!
PYE.
He’s come, he’s come.
NICHOLAS.
Master, that’s my Kinsman yonder in the Buff-jerkin—Kinsman,
that’s my Master yonder ith’ Taffetie Hat—pray salute him
entirely!
[They salute: and Pye-board salutes Master Edmond.]
SIR GODFREY.
Now, my friend.
PYE.
May I pertake your name, sir?
EDMOND.
My name is Master Edmond.
PYE.
Master Edmond?—are you not a Welshman, sir?
EDMOND.
A Welshman? why?
PYE.
Because Master is your Christian name, and Edmond your
sir name.
EDMOND.
O no; I have more names at home: Master Edmond Plus is my
full name at length.
PYE.
O, cry you mercy, sir. [Whispering]
CAPTAIN.
I understand that you are my Kinsman’s good Master, and in
regard of that, the best of my skill is at your service:
but had you fortuned a mere stranger, and made no means to
me by acquaintance, I should have utterly denied to have
been the man; both by reason of the act past in Parliament
against Conjurers and Witches, as also, because I would not
have my Art vulgar, trite, and common.
SIR GODFREY.
I much commend your care therein, good Captain Conjurer,
and that I will be sure to have it private enough, you
shall doot in my Sister’s house,—mine own house, I may
call it, for both our charges therein are proportioned.
CAPTAIN.
Very good, sir—what may I call your loss, sir?
SIR GODFREY.
O you may call’t a great loss, sir, a grievous loss, sir;
as goodly a Chain of gold, tho I say it, that wore it: how
sayest thou, Nicholas?
NICHOLAS.
O ’twas as delicious a Chain a Gold! Kinsman, you know,—
SIR GODFREY.
You know? did you know’t, Captain?
CAPTAIN.
Trust a fool with secrets!—Sir, he may say I know: his
meaning is, because my Art is such, that by it I may gather
a knowledge of all things.
SIR GODFREY.
Aye, very true.
CAPTAIN.
A pax of all fools—the excuse struck upon my tongue like
Ship-pitch upon a Mariner’s gown, not to come off in haste—
Ber-lady, Knight, to loose such a fair Chain a gold were a
foul loss. Well, I can put you in this good comfort on’t:
if it be between Heaven and Earth, Knight, I’ll ha’t for you.
SIR GODFREY.
A wonderful Conjurer!—O, aye, tis between heaven and earth,
I warrant you; it cannot go out of the realm.—I know tis
some-where above the earth.
CAPTAIN.
Aye, nigher the earth then thou wotst on.
SIR GODFREY.
For, first, my Chain was rich, and no rich thing shall
enter into heaven, you know.
NICHOLAS.
And as for the Devil, Master, he has no need on’t, for you
know he ha’s a great chain of his own.
SIR GODFREY.
Thou sayest true, Nicholas, but he has put off that now;
that lies by him.
CAPTAIN.
Faith, Knight, in few words, I presume so much upon the
power of my Art; that I could warrant your Chain again.
SIR GODFREY.
O dainty Captain!
CAPTAIN.
Marry, it will cost me much sweat; I were better go to
sixteen whot-houses.
SIR GODFREY.
Aye, good man, I warrant thee.
CAPTAIN.
Beside great vexation of Kidney and Liver.
NICHOLAS.
O, twill tickle you here-abouts, Coozen, because you have
not been used toot.
SIR GODFREY.
No? have you not been used too’t, Captain?
CAPTAIN.
Plague of all fools still!—Indeed, Knight, I have not used
it a good while, and therefore twill strain me so much the
more, you know.
SIR GODFREY.
Oh, it will, it will.
CAPTAIN.
What plunges he puts me to! were not this Knight a fool,
I had been twice spoiled now; that Captain’s worse than
accurst that has an ass to his Kinsman. Sfoot, I fear he
will drivell’t out before I come toot.—Now, sir—to come
to the point in deed—you see I stick here in the jaw of
the Marshalsea, and cannot doo’t.
SIR GODFREY.
Tut, tut, I know thy meaning; thou wouldst say thou’rt a
prisoner. I tell thee thou’rt none.
CAPTAIN.
How none? why, is not this the Marshallsea?
SIR GODFREY.
Woult hear me speak? I hard of thy rare conjuring;
My chain was lost; I sweat for thy release,
As thou shalt do the like at home for me.
Keeper.
[Enter Keeper.]
KEEPER.
Sir.
SIR GODFREY.
Speak, is not this man free?
KEEPER.
Yes, at his pleasure, sir, the fee’s discharged.
SIR GODFREY.
Go, go, I’ll discharge them I.
KEEPER.
I thank your worship.
[Exit Keeper.]
CAPTAIN.
Now, trust me, yar a dear Knight. Kindness unexpected!
oh, there’s nothing to a free Gentle man.—I will conjure
for you, sir, till Froth come through my Buff-jerkin!
SIR GODFREY,
Nay, then thou shalt not pass with so little a bounty, for
at the first sight of my chain again, Forty fine Angells
shall appear unto thee.
CAPTAIN.
Twil be a glorious show, ifaith, Knight, a very fine show;
but are all these of your own house? are you sure of that,
sir?
SIR GODFREY.
Aye, aye—no, no, what’s he yonder, talking with my wild
Nephew? pray heaven, he give him good counsel.
CAPTAIN.
Who, he? he’s a rare friend of mine, an admirable fellow,
Knight, the finest fortune-teller.
SIR GODFREY.
Oh, tis he indeed that came to my Lady sister, and foretold
the loss of my chain. I am not angry with him now, for I
see twas my fortune to loose it.—By your leave, Master
Fortune-teller, I had a glimpse on you at home at my
Sisters the Widdows, there you prophesied of the loss of a
chain:—simply tho I stand here, I was he that lost it.
PYE.
Was it you, sir?
EDMOND.
A my troth, Nuckle, he’s the rarest fellow: has told me my
fortune so right; I find it so right to my nature.
SIR GODFREY.
What ist? God send it a good one!
EDMOND.
O, tis a passing good one, Nuncle: for he says I shall prove
such an excellent gamester in my time, that I shall spend
all faster then my father got it.
SIR GODFREY.
There’s a fortune, in deed!
EDMOND.
Nay, it hits my humour so pat.
SIR GODFREY.
Aye, that will be the end ont: will the Curse of the beggar
prevail so much, that the son shall consume that foolishly,
which the father got craftily? Aye, aye, aye; twill, twill,
twill.
PYE.
Stay, stay, stay.
[Pye-board with an Almanack and the Captain.]
CAPTAIN.
Turn over, George.
PYE.
June—July: here, July; that’s this month. Sunday thirteen,
yester day forteen, to day fifteen.
CAPTAIN.
Look quickly for the fifteen day:—if within the compass of
these two days there would be some Boystrous storm or other,
it would be the best, I’d defer him off till then: some
tempest, and it be thy will.
PYE.
Here’s the fifteen day—hot and fair.
CAPTAIN.
Puh, would t’ad been hot and foul.
PYE.
The sixteen day; that’s to morrow: the morning for the most
part fair and pleasant—
CAPTAIN.
No luck.
PYE.
But about high-noon, lightning and thunder.
CAPTAIN.
Lightning and thunder! admirable, best of all: I’ll conjure
to morrow just at high noon, George.
PYE.
Happen but true to morrow, Almanack, and I’ll give thee
leave to lie all the year after.
CAPTAIN.
Sir, I must crave your patience, to bestow this day upon
me, that I may furnish my self strongly. I sent a spirit
into Lancashire tother day, to fetch back a knave Drover,
and I look for his return this evening. To morrow morning
my friend here and I will come and break-fast with you.
SIR GODFREY.
Oh, you shall be both most welcome.
CAPTAIN.
And about Noon, without fail, I purpose to conjure.
SIR GODFREY.
Mid noon will be a fine time for you.
EDMOND.
Conjuring! do you mean to conjure at our house to morrow,
sir?
CAPTAIN.
Marry, do I, sir: tis my intent, young Gentleman.
EDMOND.
By my troth, I’ll love you while I live fort. O rare,
Nicholas, we shall have conjuring to morrow.
NICHOLAS.
Puh! Aye, I could ha told you of that.
CAPTAIN.
Law, he could ha told him of that! fool, cockscomb, could
ye?
EDMOND.
Do you hear me, sir? I desire more acquaintance on you:
you shall earn some money of me, now I know you can conjure;
but can you fetch any that is lost?
CAPTAIN.
Oh, any thing that’s lost.
EDMOND.
Why, look you, sir, I tel’t you as a friend and a Conjurer,
I should marry a Poticaries daughter, and twas told me she
lost her maidenhead at Stonie-stratford; now if you’ll do
but so much as conjure fort, and make all whole again—
CAPTAIN.
That I will, sir.
EDMOND.
By my troth, I thanks you, la.
CAPTAIN.
A little merry with your sister’s son, sir.
SIR GODFREY.
Oh, a simple young man, very simple: come, Captain, and you,
sir, we’ll e’en part with a gallon of wine till to morrow
break-fast.
PYE AND CAPTAIN.
Troth, agreed, sir.
NICHOLAS.
Kinsman—Scholar?
PYE.
Why, now thou art a good Knave, worth a hundred Brownists.
NICHOLAS.
Am I indeed, la? I thank you truly, la.
[Exeunt.]
ACTUS 4.
SCENE I. An apartment in the Widow’s house.
[Enter Moll, and Sir John Penny-dub.]
PENNY.
But I hope you will not serve a Knight so, Gentlewoman, will
you? to cashier him, and cast him off at your pleasure? what,
do you thiunk I was dubbed for nothing? no, by my faith,
Ladies daughter.
MOLL.
Pray, Sir John Pennydub, let it be deferred awhile. I have
as big a heart to marry as you can have; but as the Fortune-
teller told me—
PENNY.
Pax a’th Fortune-teller! would Derecke had been his fortune
seven year ago, to cross my love thus! did he know what case
I was in? why, this is able to make a man drown himself in’s
Father’s fish-pond.
MOLL.
And then he told me more-over, Sir John, that the breach of
it kept my Father in Purgatory.
PENNY.
In Purgatory? why let him purge out his heart there, what
have we to do with that? there’s Philistions enow there to
cast his water: is that any matter to us? how can he hinder
our love? why, let him be hangd now he’s dead!—Well, have I
rid my post day and night, to bring you merry news of my
father’s death, and now—
MOLL.
Thy Father’s death? is the old Faarmer dead?
PENNY.
As dead as his Barn door, Moll.
MOLL.
And you’ll keep your word with me now, Sir John, that I shall
have my Coach and my Coach-man?
PENNY.
Aye, faith.
MOLL.
And two white Horses with black Feathers to draw it?
PENNY.
Too.
MOLL.
A guarded Lackey to run befor’t, and pied liveries to come
trashing after’t.
PENNY.
Thou shalt, Moll.
MOLL.
And to let me have money in my purse to go whether I will.
PENNY.
All this.
MOLL.
Then come what so ere comes on’t, we’ll be made sure
together before the Maids a’ the Kitchen.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE II. A room in the Widow’s house, with a door at the
side, leading to another apartment.
[Enter Widdow, with her eldest Daughter Frances and Frailty.]
WIDOW.
How now? where’s my Brother, Sir Godfrey? went he forth this
morning?
FRAILTY.
O no, Madame, he’s above at break-fast, with, sir reverence,
a Conjurer.
WIDOW.
A Conjurer? what manner a fellow is he?
FRAILTY.
Oh, a wondrous rare fellow, Mistress, very strongly made
upward, for he goes in a Buff-jerkin: he says he will fetch
Sir Godfrey’s Chain again, if it hang between heaven and
earth.
WIDOW.
What, he will not? then he’s an exlent fellow, I warrant.
How happy were that woman to be blest with such a Husband!
a man a cunning! how do’s he look, Frailty? very swartly,
I warrant, with black beard, scorcht cheeks, and smoky
eyebrows.
FRAILTY.
Fooh, he’s neither smoke-dried, nor scorcht, nor black, nor
nothing. I tell you, Madame, he looks as fair to see to, as
one of us; I do not think but if you saw him once, you’d
take him to be a Christian.
FRANCES.
So fair, and yet so cunning: that’s to be wonderd at,
Mother.
[Enter Sir Oliver Muck-hill, and Sir Andrew Tip-staff.]
MUCK.
Bless you, sweet Lady.
TIP.
And you, fair Mistress.
[Exit Frailty.]
WIDOW.
Coades? what do you mean, Gentlemen? fie, did I not give
you your answers?
MUCK.
Sweet Lady.
WIDOW.
Well, I will not stick with you now for a kiss.
Daughter, kiss the Gentleman for once.
FRANCES.
Yes, forsooth.
TIP.
I’m proud of such a favour.
WIDOW.
Truly la, sir Oliver, y’are much to blame to come again,
when you know my mind, so well deliverd as a Widdow could
deliver a thing.
MUCK.
But I expect a farther comfort, Lady.
WIDOW.
Why la you now, did I not desire you to put off your suit
quite and clean, when you came to me again? how say you?
did I not?
MUCK.
But the sincere love which my heart bears you—
WIDOW.
Go to, I’ll cut you off: and Sir Oliver, to put you in
comfort a far off, my fortune is read me: I must marry
again.
MUCK.
O blest fortune!
WIDOW.
But not as long as I can choose;—nay, I’ll hold out well.
MUCK.
Yet are my hopes now fairer.
[Enter Frailty.]
FRAILTY.
O Madam, Madam.
WIDOW.
How now, what’s the haste?
[In her ear.]
TIP.
Faith, Mistress Frances, I’ll maintain you gallantly. I’ll
bring you to Court, wean you among the fair society of
ladies, poor Kinswomen of mine, in cloth of silver: beside,
you shall have your Monkey, your Parrot, your Muskrat, and
your pisse, pisse, pisse.
FRANCES.
It will do very well.
WIDOW.
What, dos he mean to conjure here then? how shall I do be
rid of these Knights?—Please you, Gentlemen, to walk a
while ith Garden: go gather a pink, or a Lily-flower.
BOTH.
With all our hearts, Lady, and court us favourd.
[Exit. Within Sir Godfrey.]
SIR GODFREY.
Step in, Nicholas; look, is the coast clear.
NICHOLAS.
Oh, as clear as a Cat’s eye, sir.
SIR GODFREY.
Then enter, Captain Conjurer:—now—how like you your Room,
sir?
[Enter Sir Godfrey, Captain Pye-board, Edmond, Nicholas.]
CAPTAIN.
O, wonderful convenient.
EDMOND.
I can tell you, Captain, simply tho it lies here, tis the
fairest Room in my Mother’s house: as dainty a Room to
Conjure in, me thinks—why, you may bid, I cannot tell how
many devils welcome in’t; my Father has had twenty here at
once.
PYE.
What, devils?
EDMOND.
Devils? no, Deputies, and the wealthiest men he could get.
SIR GODFREY.
Nay, put by your chats now, fall to your business roundly:
the feskewe of the Dial is upon the Chrisse-crosse of Noon,
but oh, hear me, Captain, a qualm comes ore my stomach.
CAPTAIN.
Why, what’s the matter, sir?
SIR GODFREY.
Oh, how if the devil should prove a knave, and tear the
hangings?
CAPTAIN.
Fuh, I warrant you, Sir Godfrey.
EDMOND.
Aye, Nuncle, or spit fire up’oth ceiling!
SIR GODFREY.
Very true, too, for tis but thin plastered, and twill
quickly take hold a the laths, and if he chance to spit
downward too, he will burn all the boards.
CAPTAIN.
My life for yours, Sir Godfrey.
SIR GODFREY.
My Sister is very curious and dainty ore this Room, I can
tell, and therefore if he must needs spit, I pray desire
him to spit ith Chimney.
PYE.
Why, assure you, Sir Godfrey, he shall not be brought up
with so little manners to spit and spaul a’th flower.
SIR GODFREY.
Why, I thank you, good Captain; pray have a care. Aye, fall
to your Circle; we’ll not trouble you, I warrant you: come,
we’ll in to the next Room, and be cause we’ll be sure to
keep him out there, we’ll bar up the door with some of the
Godlies zealous work.
EDMOND.
That will be a find device, Nuncle, and because the ground
shall be as holy as the door, I’ll tear two or three
rosaries in pieces, and strew the leaves about the Chamber.
[Thunders.]
Oh, the devil already.
[Runs in.]
PYE.
Sfoot, Captain, speak somewhat for shame; it lightens and
thunders before thou wilt begin: why, when?
CAPTAIN.
Pray, peace, George,—thou’lt make me laugh anon and spoil
all.
PYE.
Oh, now it begins again: now, now, now, Captain.
CAPTAIN.
Rumbos—ragdayon, pur, pur, colucundrion, Hois-Plois.
SIR GODFREY.
Oh admirable Conurer! has fetcht Thunder already:
[Sir Godfrey through the keyhole; within.]
PYE.
Hark, hark! again, Captain!
CAPTAIN.
Benjamino,—gaspois—kay—gosgothoteron—umbrois.
SIR GODFREY.
Oh, I would the devil would come away quickly, he has no
conscience to put a man to such pain.
PYE.
Again!
CAPTAIN.
Floste—Kakopumpos—dragone—Leloomenos—hodge—podge.
PYE.
Well said, Captain.
SIR GODFREY.
So long a coming? oh, would I had ne’er begun’t now, for I
fear me these roaring tempests will destroy all the fruits
of the earth, and tread upon my corn—oh!—ith Country.
CAPTAIN.
Gog de gog, hobgoblin, huncks, hounslow, hockley te coome
parke.
WIDOW.
[At the door.] O brother, brother, what a tempests ith
Garden: sure there’s some conjuration abroad.
SIR GODFREY.
Tis at home, sister!
PYE.
By and by, I’ll step in, Captain.
CAPTAIN.
Nunck—Nunck—Rip—Gascoynes, Ipis, Drip—Dropite.
SIR GODFREY.
He drips and drops, poor man! alas, alas.
PYE.
Now I come.
CAPTAIN.
O Sulphure Sooteface—
PYE.
Arch-conjurer, what wouldst thou with me?
SIR GODFREY.
O the devil, sister, ith dining Chamber! sing, Sister, I
warrant you that will keep him out: quickly, quickly, quickly.
[Goes in.]
PYE.
So, so, so, I’ll release thee: ynough, Captain, ynough; allow
us some time to laugh a little: they’re shuddering and shaking
by this time, as if an Earth-quake were in their kidneys.
CAPTAIN.
Sirrah, Goerge, how wast, how wast? did I doo’t well ynough?
PYE.
Woult believe me, Captain? better then any Conjurer, for here
was no harm in this, and yet their horrible expectation
satisfied well. You were much beholding to thunder and lightning
at this time: it gracst you well I can tell you.
CAPTAIN.
I must needs say so, George. Sirrah, if we could ha convoid
hither cleanly a cracker or a fire-wheel t’ad been admirable.
PYE.
Blurt, blurt! there’s nothing remains to put thee to pain now,
Captain.
CAPTAIN.
Pain? I protest, George, my heels are sorer, then a Whitson
Morris-dancer.
PYE.
All’s past now,—only to reveal that the chains ith Garden
where thou knowst it has lain these two days.
CAPTAIN.
But I fear that fox Nicholas has revealed it already.
PYE.
Fear not, Captain, you must put it to’th venture now. Nay,
tis time: call upon e’m, take pity on e’m, for I believe some
of ’em are in a pitiful case by this time.
CAPTAIN.
Sir Godfrey? Nicholas, Kinsman—Sfoot, they’re fast at it
still, George. Sir Godfrey!
SIR GODFREY.
Oh, is that the devil’s voice? how comes he to know my name?
CAPTAIN.
Fear not, Sir Godfrey, all’s quieted.
SIR GODFREY.
What, is he laid?
CAPTAIN.
Laid; and has newly dropt your chain ith Garden.
SIR GODFREY.
Ith Garden! in our Garden?
CAPTAIN.
Your Garden.
SIR GODFREY.
O sweet Conjurer! where abouts there?
CAPTAIN.
Look well about a bank of Rosemary.
SIR GODFREY.
Sister, the Rosemary bank! come, come, there’s my chain, he
says.
WIDOW.
Oh happiness! run, run.
[Supposed to go.]
EDMOND.
Captain Conjurer?
[Edmond at keyhole.]
CAPTAIN.
Who? Master Edmond?
EDMOND.
Aye, Master Edmond: may I come in safely, without danger,
think you?
CAPTAIN.
Fuh, long ago: tis all as twas at first. Fear nothing, pray
come near—how now, man?
EDMOND.
Oh this Room’s mightily hot, ifaith: slid, my shirt sticks to
my Belly already. What a steam the Rogue has left behind him!
foh, this room must be aired, Gentlemen; it smells horribly of
Brimstone—let’s open the windows.
PYE.
Faith, master Edmond, tis but your conceit.
EDMOND.
I would you could make me believe that, ifaith. Why, do you
think I cannot smell his savour from another? yet I take it
kindly from you, because you would not put me in a fear,
ifaith; a my troth, I shall love you for this the longest day
of my life.
CAPTAIN.
Puh, tis nothing, sir: love me when you see more.
EDMOND.
Mass, now I remember, I’ll look whether he has singed the
hangings or no.
PYE.
Captain, to entertain a little sport till they come, make him
believe you’ll charm him invisible: he’s apt to admire any
thing, you see. Let him alone to give force too’te.
CAPTAIN.
Go, retire to yonder end then.
EDMOND.
I protest you are a rare fellow, are you not?
CAPTAIN.
O master Edmond, you know but the least part of me yet: why,
now at this instant I could but florish my wand thrice o’er
your head, and charm you invisible.
EDMOND.
What, you could not? make me walk invisible, man! I should
laugh at that, ifaith; troth, I’ll requite your kindness and
you’ll do’t, good Captain conjurer.
CAPTAIN.
Nay, I should hardly deny you such a small kindness, Master
Edmond Plus: why, look you, sir, tis no more but this and thus
and again, and now yar invisible!
EDMOND.
Am I, ifaith? who would think it?
CAPTAIN.
You see the fortune-teller yonder at farder end ath chamber:
go toward him, do what you will with him; he shall ne’er find
you.
EDMOND.
Say you so? I’ll try that, ifaith,—
[Justles him.]
PYE.
How now? Captain, who’s that justled me?
CAPTAIN.
Justled you? I saw no body.
EDMOND.
Ha, ha, ha!—say twas a spirit.
CAPTAIN.
Shall I?—may be some spirit that haunts the circle.
[Edmond pulls him by the Nose.]
PYE.
O my nose again! pray conjure then, Captain.
EDMOND.
Troth, this is exlent; I may do any knavery now and never be
Seen,—and now I remember me, Sir Godfrey my Uncle abused me
Tother day, and told tales of me to my Mother—Troth, now I’m
Invisible, I’ll hit him a sound wherrit ath’ ear, when he
comes out ath’ garden.—I may be revengd on him now finely.
[Enter Sir Godfrey, Widdow, Frances, Nicholas with the Chain.]
SIR GODFREY.
I have my Chain again, my Chain’s found again. O sweet
Captain, O admirable Conjurer. [Edmond strikes him.] Oh!
what mean you by that, Nephew?
EDMOND.
Nephew? I hope you do not know me, Uncle?
WIDOW.
Why did you strike your Uncle, sir?
EDMOND.
Why, Captain, am I not invisible?
CAPTAIN.
A good jest, George!—not now you are not, Sir.
Why, did you not see me when I did uncharm you?
EDMOND.
Not I by my troth, Captain. Then pray you pardon me, Uncle;
I thought I’d been invisible when I struck you.
SIR GODFREY.
So, you would doo’t? go,—y’are a foolish Boy,
And were I not o’er-come with greater joy,
I’d make you taste correction.
EDMOND.
Correction, push!—no, neither you nor my Mother shall think
to whip me as you have done.
SIR GODFREY.
Captain, my joy is such, I know not how to thank you: let me
embrace you, hug you. O my sweet Chain! Gladness ’een makes
me giddy. Rare man! twas as just ith’ Rosemary bank, as if
one should ha’ laid it there—oh, cunning, cunning!
WIDOW.
Well, seeing my fortune tells me I must marry, let me marry
a man of wit, a man of parts. Here’s a worthy Captain, and
’tis a fine Title truly la to be a Captain’s Wife. A Captain’s
Wife, it goes very finely; beside all the world knows that a
worthy Captain is a fit Companion to any Lord, then why not a
sweet bed-fellow for any Lady,—I’ll have it so—
[Enter Frailty.]
FRAILTY.
O Mistress, Gentlemen, there’s the bravest sight coming along
this way.
WIDOW.
What brave sight?
FRAILTY.
Oh, one going to burying, & another going to hanging.
WIDOW.
A rueful sight.
PYE.
Sfoot, Captain, I’ll pawn my life the Corporal’s confined,
and old Skirmish the soldier going to execution, and ’tis
now full about the time of his waking; hold out a little
longer, sleepy potion, and we shall have exlent admiration;
for I’ll take upon me the cure of him.
SCENE III. The street before the Widow’s house.
[Enter the Coffin of the Corporal, the soldier bound, and
lead by Officers, the Sheriff there. From the house, Sir
Godfrey, the Widow, Idle, Pyeboard, Edmond, Frailty, and
Nicholas.]
FRAILTY.
Oh here they come, here they come!
PYE.
Now must I close secretly with the Soldier, prevent his
impatience, or else all’s discovered.
WIDOW.
O lamentable seeing! these were those Brothers, that fought
and bled before our door.
SIR GODFREY.
What, they were not, Sister?
SKIRMISH.
George, look toot, I’ll peach at Tyburn else.
PYE.
Mum,—Gentles all, vouchsafe me audience, and you especially,
Master Sheriff:
Yon man is bound to execution,
Because he wounded this that now lies coffined?
SHERIFF.
True, true; he shall have the law,—and I know the law.
PYE.
But under favour, Master Sheriff, if this man had been cured
and safe again, he should have been released then?
SHERIFF.
Why make you question of that, Sir?
PYE.
Then I release him freely, and will take upon me the death
that he should die, if within a little season, I do not cure
him to his proper health again.
SHERIFF.
How Sir? recover a dead man?
That were most strange of all.
[Frances comes to him.]
FRANCES.
Sweet Sir, I love you dearly, and could wish my best part
yours,—oh do not undertake such an impossible venture.
PYE.
Love you me? then for your sweet sake I’ll doo’t:
Let me entreat the corpse to be set down.
SHERIFF.
Bearers, set down the Coffin.—This were wonderful, and
worthy Stoes Chronicle.
PYE.
I pray bestow the freedom of the air upon our wholesome Art.—
Mass, his cheeks begin to receive natural warmth: nay, good
Corporal, wake betime, or I shall have a longer sleep then
you.—Sfoot, if he should prove dead indeed now, he were fully
revenged upon me for making a property on him, yet I had
rather run upon the Ropes, then have the Rope like a Tetter
run upon me. Oh—he stirs—he stirs again—look, Gentlemen,
he recovers, he starts, he rises.
SHERIFF.
Oh, oh, defend us!—out, alas.
PYE.
Nay, pray be still; you’ll make him more giddy else:—he knows
no body yet.
CORPORAL.
Zounes: where am I? covered with Snow? I marvel.
PYE.
Nay, I knew he would swear the first thing he did, as soon as
ever he came to life again.
CORPORAL.
Sfoot, Hostess, some hot Porridge,—oh, oh, lay on a dozen
of Fagots in the Moon parlor, there.
PYE.
Lady, you must needs take a little pity of him, yfaith, and
send him in to your Kitchen fire.
WIDOW.
Oh, with all my heart, sir. Nicholas and Frailty, help to
bear him in.
NICHOLAS.
Bear him in, quatha? pray call out the Maids, I shall ne’er
have the heart to doo’t, indeed la.
FRAILTY.
Nor I neither, I cannot abide to handle a Ghost of all men.
CORPORAL.
Sblood, let me see: where was I drunk last night, heh—
WIDOW.
Oh, shall I bid you once again take him away?
FRAILTY.
Why, we’re as fearful as you, I warrant you—oh—
WIDOW.
Away, villains; bid the Maids make him a Cawdle presently to
settle his brain,—or a Posset of Sack; quickly, quickly.
[Exeunt Frailty and Nicholas, pushing in the corpses.]
SHERIFF.
Sir, what so ere you are, I do more then admire you.
WIDOW.
O, aye, if you knew all, Master Sheriff, as you shall do, you
would say then, that here were two of the rarest men within
the walls of Christendome.
SHERIFF.
Two of ’em? O wonderful. Officers, I discharge you, set
him free, all’s in tune.
SIR GODFREY.
Aye, and a banquet ready by this time, Master Sheriff, to
which I most cheerfully invite you, and your late prisoner
there. see you this goodly chain, sir? mun, no more words,
twas lost, and is found again; come, my inestimable bullies,
we’ll talk of your noble Acts in sparkling Charnico, and in
stead of a Jester, we’ll ha the ghost ith white sheet sit
at upper end a’th Table.
SHERIFF.
Exlent merry, man, yfaith.
[Exeunt all but Frances.]
FRANCES.
Well, seeing I am enjoined to love and marry,
My foolish vow thus I cashier to Air
Which first begot it.—Now, love, play thy part;
The scholar reads his lecture in my heart.
[Exit.]
ACTUS 5
SCEN. I. The street before the Widow’s house.
[Enter in haste Master Edmond and Frailty.]
EDMOND.
This is the marriage morning for my mother and my sister.
FRAILTY.
O me, Master Edmund; we shall ha rare doings.
EDMOND.
Nay, go, Frailty, run to the Sexton; you know my mother
will be married at Saint Antlings. Hie thee, tis past
five; bid them open the Church door; my sister is almost
ready.
FRAILTY.
What, all ready, Master Edmond?
EDMOND.
Nay, go, hie thee: first run to the Sexton, and run to the
Clarke, and then run to Master Pigman the Parson, and then
run to the Milliner, and then run home again.
FRAILTY.
Here’s run, run, run—
EDMOND.
But hark, Frailty.
FRAILTY.
What, more yet?
EDMOND.
Has the maids remembered to strew the way to the Church.
FRAILTY.
Fagh, an hour ago; I helpt ’em my self.
EDMOND.
Away, away, away, away then.
FRAILTY.
Away, away, away then.
[Exit Frailty.]
EDMOND.
I shall have a simple Father inlaw, a brave Captain able to
beat all our street: Captain Idle. Now my Lady Mother will
be fitted for a delicate name: my Lady Idle, my Lady Idle,
the finest name that can be for a woman; and then the Scholar,
Master Pye-board, for my sister Frances, that will be Mistress
Frances Pye-board.—Mistress Frances Pye-board! they’ll keep
a good table I warrant you. Now all the knights’ noses are
put out of joint; they may go to a bone setters now.
[Enter Captain and Pye-board.]
Hark, hark! oh who comes here with two Torches before ’em?
my sweet Captain, and my fine Scholar! oh, how bravely they
are shot up in one night; they look like fine Brittains now,
me thinks. Here’s a gallant change, ifaith: slid, they have
hir’d men and all by the clock.
CAPTAIN.
Master Edmond, kind, honest, dainty Master Edmond.
EDMOND.
Fogh, sweet Captain Father inlaw, a rare perfume, ifaith.
PYE.
What, are the Brides stirring? may we steal upon ’em,
thinkst thou, Master Edmond?
EDMOND.
Faw, there e’en upon readiness, I can assure you, for they
were at their Torch e’en now: by the same token I tumbled
down the stairs.
PYE.
Alas, poor Master Edmond.
[Enter musicians.]
CAPTAIN.
O, the musicians! I pray thee, Master Edmond, call ’em in
and liquor ’em a little.
EDMOND.
That I will, sweet Captain father in law, and make each of
them as drunk as a common fiddler.
[Exeunt omnes.]
SCENE II. The same.
[Enter Sir John Pennydub, and Moll above lacing of her
clothes.]
PENNYDUB.
Whewh, Mistress Moll, Mistress Moll.
MOLL.
Who’s there?
PENNYDUB.
Tis I.
MOLL.
Who? Sir John Pennydub? O you’re an early cock, ifaith:
who would have thought you to be so rare a stirrer?
PENNYDUB.
Preethe, Moll, let me come up.
MOLL.
No, by my faith, Sir John, I’ll keep you down, for you
Knights are very dangerous in once you get above.
PENNYDUB.
I’ll not stay, ifaith.
MOLL.
Ifaith, you shall stay, for, Sir John, you must note the
nature of the Climates: your Northern wench in her own
Country may well hold out till she be fifteen, but if she
touch the South once, and come up to London, here the Chimes
go presently after twelve.
PENNYDUB.
O th’art a mad wench, Moll, but I pree thee make haste, for
the priest is gone before.
MOLL.
Do you follow him, I’ll not be long after.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. A room in Sir Oliver Muckhill’s house.
[Enter Sir Oliver Muckhill, Sir Andrew Tipstaff, and old
Skirmish talking.]
MUCK.
O monstrous, un-heard of forgery.
TIP.
Knight, I never heard of such villainy in our own country
in my life.
MUCH.
Why, ’tis impossible; dare you maintain your words?
SKIRMISH.
Dare we? een to their wezen pipes. We know all their plots,
they cannot squander with us; they have knavishly abused us,
made only properties on’s to advance their selves upon our
shoulders, but they shall rue their abuses. This morning
they are to be married.
MUCK.
Tis too true; yet if the Widdow be not too much besotted on
slights and forgeries, the revelation of their villainies will
make ’em loathsome: and to that end, be it in private to you,
I sent late last night to an honorable personage, to whom I
am much indebted in kindness, as he is to me, and therefore
presume upon the payment of his tongue, and that he will lay
out good words for me: and to speak truth, for such needful
occasions, I only preserve him in bond, and some-times he may
do me more good here in the City by a free word of his mouth,
then if he had paid one half in hand, and took Doomesday for
t’other.
TIP.
In troth, Sir, without soothing be it spoken, you have publisht
much judgment in these few words.
MUCK.
For you know, what such a man utters will be though effectual
and to weighty purpose, and therefore into his mouth we’ll put
the approved theme of their forgeries.
SKIRMISH.
And I’ll maintain it, Knight, if ye’ll be true.
[Enter a servant.]
MUCK.
How now, fellow?
SERVANT.
May it please you, Sir, my Lord is newly lighted from his
Coach.
MUCK.
Is my Lord come already? His honor’s early.
You see he loves me well: up before seven!
Trust me, I have found his night capt at eleven.
There’s good hope yet; come, I’ll relate all to him.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. A street; a church appearing.
[Enter the two Bridegrooms, Captain and Scholar; after them,
Sir Godfrey and Edmond, Widdow changed in apparel, Mistress
Frances led between two Knights, Sir John Pennydub and Moll:
there meets them a Noble man, Sir Oliver Muckhill, and Sir
Andrew Tipstaff.]
NOBLE.
By your leave, Lady.
WIDOW.
My Lord, your honour is most chastely welcome.
NOBLE.
Madam, tho I came now from court, I come now from court, I
come not to flatter you: upon whom can I justly cast this
blot, but upon your own forehead, that know not ink from
milk? such is the blind besotting in the state of an unheaded
woman that’s a widdow. For it is the property of all you that
are widdowes (a hand full excepted) to hate those that honestly
and carefully love you, to the maintenance of credit, state,
and posterity, and strongly to dote on those, that only love
you to undo you: who regard you least are best regarded, who
hate you most are best beloved. And if there be but one man
amongst ten thousand millions of men that is accurst,
disastrous, and evilly planeted, whom Fortune beats most,
whom God hates most, and all Societies esteem least, that man
is sure to be a husband.—Such is the peevish Moon that rules
your bloods. An Impudent fellow best woes you, a flattering
lip best wins you, or in a mirth who talks roughliest is most
sweetest; nor can you distinguish truth from forgeries, mists
from Simplicity: witness those two deceitful monsters that
you have entertaind for bride-grooms.
WIDOW.
Deceitful!
PYE.
All will out.
CAPTAIN.
Sfoot, who has blabd, George? that foolish Nicholas?
NOBLE.
For what they have besotted your easy blood withall wear
nought but forgeries: the fortune telling for husbands, the
conjuring for the chain Sir Godfrey heard the falshod of:
all mere knavery, deceit, and coozenage.
WIDOW.
O wonderful! Indeed I wondred that my husband with all his
Craft could not keep himself out of purgatory.
SIR GODFREY.
And I more wonder that my chain should be gone and my Tailor
had none of it.
MOLL.
And I wondred most of all that I should be tied from marriage,
having such a mind too’t. Come, Sir John Pennydub, fair
weather on our side; the moon has changed since yester night.
PYE.
The Sting of every evil is with-in me.
NOBLE.
And that you may perceive I fain not with you, behold their
fellow actor in those forgeries; who, full of Spleen and
envy at their so sudden advancements, revealed all their plot
in anger.
PYE.
Base Soldier, to reveal us/
WIDOW.
Ist possible we should be blinded so, and our eye open?
NOBLE.
Widdow, will you now believe that false, which too soon you
believed true?
WIDOW.
O, to my shame I do.
SIR GODFREY.
But under favour, my Lord, my chain was truly lost and
strangely found again.
NOBLE.
Resolve him of that, Soldier.
SKIRMISH.
In few words, Knight, then, thou were the arch-gull of all.
SIR GODFREY.
How, Sir?
SKIRMISH.
Nay, I’ll prove it: for the chain was but hid in the rosemary
bank all this while, and thou gotst him out of prison to
Conjure for it, who did it admirably fustianly; for indeed
what need any others when he knew where it was?
SIR GODFREY.
O villainy of villainies! But how came my chain there?
SKIRMISH.
Where’s truly la, in deed la, he that will not swear, but lie,
He that will not steal, But rob: pure Nicholas Saint Antlings?
SIR GODFREY.
O Villain! one of our society,
Deemd always holy, pure, religious.
A Puritan a thief, when wast ever heard?
Sooner we’ll kill a man then Steal, thou knowst.
Out, slave! I’ll rend my lion from thy back
With mine own hands.
NICHOLAS.
Dear Master, oh.
NOBLE.
Nay, Knight, dwell in patience. And now, widdow, being so
near the Church, twer great pity, nay uncharity, to send you
home again without a husband: draw nearer you of true worship,
state and credit, that should not stand so far off from a
widdow, and suffer forged shapes to come between you. Not
that in these I blemish the true Title of a Captain, or blot
the fair margent of a Scholar; For I honor worthy and deserving
parts in the one, and cherish fruitful Vertues in the other.
Come Lady, and you, Virgin; bestow your eyes and your purest
affections upon men of estimation both in Court and City, that
hath long wooed you, and both with there hearts and wealth
sincerely love you.
SIR GODFREY.
Good Sister, do: Sweet little Franke, these are men of
reputation; you shall be welcome at Court: a great credit for
a Citizen, sweet Sister.
NOBLE.
Come, her silence does consent too’t.
WIDDOW.
I know not with what face—
NOBLE.
Pah, pah! why, with your own face; they desire no other.
WIDDOW.
Pardon me, worthy Sirs; I and my daughter have wrongd your
loves.
MUCK.
Tis easily pardon’d, Lady,
If you vouchsafe it now.
WIDDOW.
With all my soul.
FRANCES.
And I with all my heart.
MOLL.
And I, Sir John, with soul, heart, lights and all.
SIR JOHN.
They are all mine, Moll.
NOBLE.
Now, Lady,
What honest Spirit but will applaud your choice,
And gladly furnish you with hand and voice?
A happy change which makes e’en heaven rejoice.
Come, enter into your Joys, you shall not want
For fathers now; I doubt it not, believe me,
But that you shall have hands enough to give ye.
[Exeunt omnes.]
Deus dedit his quoque finem.
FINIS