_Enter_ Andrew.
_And_. Are you come, old Master? Very good, your Horse is well set up; but
ere you part, I'll ride you, and spur your Reverend Justiceship such a
question, as I shall make the sides of your Reputation bleed, truly I
will. Now must I play at Bo-peep--A Banquet--well, Potatoes and Eringoes,
and, as I take it, Cantharides--Excellent, a Priapism follows, and as I'll
handle it, it shall, old Lecherous Goat in Authority. Now they begin to
Bill; how he slavers her! Gramercy _Lilly_, she spits his kisses out, and
now he offers to fumble, she falls off, (that's a good Wench) and cries
fair play above board. Who are they in the corner? As I live, a covy of
Fidlers; I shall have some Musick yet at my making free o'th' Company of
_Horners_; there's the comfort, and a Song too! He beckons for one--Sure
'tis no Anthem, nor no borrow'd Rhymes out of the School of Vertue; I will
listen-- [_A Song_.
This was never penn'd at _Geneva_, the Note's too sprightly. So, so, the
Musick's paid for, and now what follows? O that Monsieur _Miramont_ would
but keep his word; here were a Feast to make him fat with laughter; at the
most 'tis not six minutes riding from his house, nor will he break, I
hope--O are you come, Sir? the prey is in the Net, and will break in upon
occasion.
_Mir_. Thou shalt rule me, Andrew. O th'infinite fright that will assail
this Gentleman! the Quartans, Tertians, and Quotidians that will hang like
Serjeants on his Worships shoulders? the humiliation of the flesh of this
man, this grave, austere man will be wondred at. How will those solemn
looks appear to me; and that severe face, that speaks chains and shackles?
Now I take him in the nick, e're I have done with him, he had better have
stood between two panes of Wainscot, and made his recantation in the
Market, than hear me conjure him.
_And_. He must pass this way to th' only Bed I have; he comes, stand
close.
_Bri_. Well done, well done, give me my night-cap. So. Quick, quick,
untruss me; I will truss and trounce thee. Come, Wench, a kiss between
each point; kiss close, it is a sweet Parenthesis.
_Lil._ Y'are merry, Sir.
_Bri._ Merry I will be anon, and thou shalt feel it, thou shalt, my
_Lilly_.
_Lil._ Shall I air your Bed, Sir?
_Bri._ No, no; I'll use no Warming-pan but thine, Girl, that's all. Come
kiss me again.
_Lil._ Ha'ye done yet?
_Bri._ No; but I will do, and do wonders, _Lilly_. Shew me the way.
_Lil._ You cannot miss it, Sir; you shall have a Cawdle in the morning for
your Worship's breakfast.
_Bri._ How, i'th' morning, _Lilly_? th'art such a witty thing to draw me
on. Leave fooling, _Lilly_, I am hungry now, and th'hast another Kickshaw,
I must taste it.
_Lil._ 'Twill make you surfeit, I am tender of you: y'have all y'are like
to have.
_And._ And can this be earnest?
_Mir._ It seems so, and she honest.
_Bri._ Have I not thy promise, _Lilly_?
_Lil._ Yes, and I have performed enough to a man of your years, this is
truth; and you shall find, Sir, you have kiss'd and tous'd me, handl'd my
leg and foot; what would you more, Sir? As for the rest, it requires youth
and strength, and the labour in an old man would breed Agues, Sciatica's,
and Cramps: You shall not curse me for taking from you what you cannot
spare, Sir. Be good unto your self, y'have ta'ne already all you can take
with ease; you are past threshing, it is a work too boisterous for you,
leave such drudgery to _Andrew_.
_Mir._ How she jeers him!
_Lil._ Let _Andrew_ alone with his own tillage, he's tough, and can manure
it.
_Bri._ Y'are a quean, a scoffing, jeering quean.
_Lil._ It may be so, but I'm sure I'll ne'r be yours.
_Bri._ Do not provoke me, if thou do'st I'll have my Farm again, and turn
thee out a begging.
_Lil._ Though you have the will, and want of honesty to deny your deed,
Sir; yet I hope _Andrew_ has got so much learning from my young Master, as
to keep his own; at the worst I'll tell a short tale to the Judges, for
what grave ends you sign'd your Lease, and on what terms you would revoke
it.
_Bri_. Whore, thou dar'st not. Yield, or I'll have thee whipt: how my
Bloud boils, as if't were o're a Furnace!
_Mir_. I shall cool it.
_Bri_. Yet, gentle _Lilly_, pity and forgive me, I'll be a friend t'ye,
such a loving bountiful friend--
_Lil_. To avoid Suits in Law, I would grant a little; but should fierce
_Andrew_ know it, what would become of me?
_And_. A Whore, a Whore!
_Bri_. Nothing but well Wench, I shall put such a strong Bit in his mouth,
as thou shall ride him how thou wilt, my _Lilly_; nay, he shall hold the
door, as I will work him, and thank thee for the Office.
_Mir_. Take heed, _Andrew_, these are shrewd temptations.
_And_. Pray you know your Cue, and second me, Sir. By your Worship's
favour.
_Bri_. _Andrew_!
_And_. I come in time to take possession of th'Office you assign me; hold
the door! alas, 'tis nothing for a simple man to stay without, when a deep
understanding holds conference within, say with his Wife: a trifle, Sir. I
know I hold my Farm by Cuckolds Tenure; you are Lord o'th' Soil, Sir.
_Lilly_ is a Weft, a stray, she's yours to use, Sir, I claim no interest
in her.
_Bri_. Art thou serious? speak, honest _Andrew_, since thou hast o'erheard
us, and wink at small faults, man; I'm but a pidlar, a little will serve
my turn; thou'lt find enough when I've my belly full: Wilt thou be private
and silent?
_And_. By all means, I'll only have a Ballad made of't, sung to some lewd
Tune, and the name of it shall be _Justice Trap_; it will sell rarely with
your Worships name, and _Lilly_'s on the top.
_Bri_. Seek not the ruine o' my reputation, _Andrew_.
_And_. 'Tis for your credit, Monsieur _Brisac_, printed in Capital
Letters, then pasted upon all the posts in _Paris_.
_Bri_. No mercy, _Andrew_?
_And_. O, it will proclaim you from the City to the Court, and prove Sport
Royal.
_Bri_. Thou shalt keep thy Farm.
_Mir_. He does afflict him rarely.
_And_. You trouble me. Then his intent arriving, the vizard of his
hypocrisie pull'd of[f] to the Judge criminal.
_Bri_. O I am undone.
_And_. He's put out of Commission with disgrace, and held uncapable of
bearing Office ever hereafter. This is my revenge, and this I'll put in
practice.
_Bri_. Do but hear me.
_And_. To bring me back from my Grammar to my Hornbook, it is
unpardonable.
_Bri_. Do not play the Tyrant; accept of composition.
_Lil_. Hear him, _Andrew_.
_And_. What composition?
_Bri_. I'll confirm thy Farm, and add unto it a hundred Acres more,
adjoyning to it.
_And_. Umb, this mollifies; but y'are so fickle, and will again deny this,
there being no witness by.
_Bri_. Call any witness, I'll presently assure it.
_And_. Say you so? troth there's a friend of mine, Sir, within hearing,
that's familiar with all that's past, his testimony will be authentical.
_Bri_. Will he be secret?
_And_. You may tie his tongue up, as you would do your purse-strings.
_Bri_. _Miramont_!
_Mir_. Ha-ha-ha!
_And_. This is my witness. Lord how you are troubled! sure you have an
Ag[u]e, you shake so with choler: Here's your loving Brother, Sir, and
will tell no body but all he meets, that you have eat a Snake, and are
grown young, gamesome, and rampant.
_Bri_. Caught thus?
_And_. If he were one that would make jests of you, or plague ye, with
making your Religious gravity ridiculous to your Neighbours, then you had
some cause to be perplex'd.
_Bri_. I shall become discourse for Clowns and Tapsters.
_And_. Quick, _Lilly_, quick, he's now past kissing, between point and
point. He swounds, fetch him some Cordial--Now put in, Sir.
_Mir_. Who may this be? sure this is some mistake: let me see his face,
wears he not a false beard? it cannot be _Brisac_ that worthy Gentleman,
the Pillar and the Patron of his Country; he is too prudent, and too
cautelous, experience hath taught him t'avoid these fooleries, he is the
punisher, and not the doer; besides he's old and cold, unfit for Woman:
This is some counterfeit, he shall be whipt for't, some base abuser of my
worthy Brother.
_Bri_. Open the doors; will ye imprison me? are ye my Judges?
_Mir_. The man raves! this is not judicious _Brisac_: yet now I think
on't, h'has a kind of Dog look like my Brother, a guilty hanging face.
_Bri_. I'll suffer bravely, do your worst, do, do.
_Mir_. Why, it's manly in you.
_Bri_. Nor will I rail nor curse, you slave, you whore, I will not meddle
with you; but all the torments that e're fell on men, that fed on
mischief, fall heavily on you all. [_Exit_.
_Lil_. You have given him a heat, Sir.
_Mir_. He will ride you the better, _Lilly_.
_And_. We'll teach him to meddle with Scholars.
_Mir_. He shall make good his promise t'increase thy Farm, _Andrew_, or
I'll jeer him to death. Fear nothing, _Lilly_, I am thy Champion. This
jeast goes to _Charles_, and then I'll hunt him out, and Monsieur
_Eustace_ the gallant Courtier, and laugh heartily to see 'em mourn
together.
_And_. 'Twill be rare, Sir. [_Exeunt_.
_ACTUS QUINTUS. SCENA PRIMA._
_Enter_ Eustace, Egremont, Cowsy.
_Eust_. Turn'd out of doors and baffled!
_Egre_. We share with you in the affront.
_Cow_. Yet bear it not like you with such dejection.
_Eust_. My Coach and Horses made the ransom of our Cowardize!
_Cow_. Pish, that's nothing, 'tis _damnum reparabile_, and soon recover'd.
_Egre_. It is but feeding a Suitor with false hopes, and after squeeze him
with a dozen of Oaths, You are new rigg'd, and this no more remembred.
_Eust_. And does the Court, that should be the Example and Oracle of the
Kingdom, read to us no other Doctrine?
_Egre_. None that thrives so well as that, within my knowledge.
_Cow_. Flattery rubs out; but since great men learn to admire themselves,
'tis something crest-faln.
_Egre_. To be of no Religion, argues a subtle, moral understanding, and it
is often cherish'd.
_Eust_. Piety then, and valour, nor to do and suffer wrong, are they no
virtues?
_Egre_. Rather vices, _Eustace_; Fighting! what's fighting? it may be in
fashion among provant swords, and Buff-jerkin men: But w'us that swim in
choice of Silks and Tissues; though in defence of that word Reputation,
which is indeed a kind of glorious nothing, to lose a dram of blood must
needs appear as coarse as to be honest.
_Eust_. And all this you seriously believe?
_Cow_. It is a faith that we will die in, since from the black Guard to
the grim Sir in Office, there are few hold other Tenets.
_Eust_. Now my eyes are open, and I behold a strong necessity that keeps
me knave and coward.
_Cow_. Y'are the wiser.
_Eust_. Nor can I change my copy, if I purpose to be of your society.
_Egre_. By no means.
_Eust_. Honour is nothing with you?
_Cow_. A meer bubble; for what's grown common, is no more regarded.
_Eust_. My sword forc'd from me too, and still detain'd, you think 'tis no
blemish.
_Egre_. Get me a Batton, 'tis twenty times more Court-like, and less
trouble.
_Eust_. And yet you wear a sword.
_Cow. Yes, and a good one, a _Milan_ hilt, and a _Damasco_ blade for
ornament, not use, the Court allows it.
_Eust_. Will't not fight of it self?
_Cow_. I ne'er tri'd this, yet I have worn as fair as any man; I'm sure
I've made my Cutler rich, and paid for several weapons, _Turkish_ and
_Toledo's_, two thousand Crowns, and yet could never light upon a fighting
one.
_Eust_. I'le borrow this, I like it well.
_Cow_. 'Tis at your service, Sir, a Lath in a Velvet Scabbard will serve
my turn.
_Eust_. And now I have it, leave me; y'are infectious, the plague and
leprosie of your baseness spreading on all that do come near you; such as
you render the Throne of Majesty, the Court, suspected and contemptible;
you are Scarabee's that batten in her dung, and have no palats to taste
her curious Viands; and like Owles, can only see her night deformities,
but with the glorious splendor of her beauties, you are struck blind as
Moles, that undermine the sumptuous Building that allow'd you shelter: you
stick like running ulcers on her face, and taint the pureness of her
native candor, and being bad Servants, cause your Masters goodness to be
disputed of; you make the Court, that is the abstract of all Academies, to
teach and practise noble undertakings, (where courage sits triumphant
crown'd with Lawrel, and wisdom loaded with the weight of honour) a School
of Vices.
_Egre_. What sudden rapture's this?
_Eust_. A heavenly one, that raising me from sloth and ignorance, (in
which your conversation long hath charm'd me) carries me up into the air
of action, and knowledge of my self; even now I feel, but pleading only in
the Court's defence (though far short of her merits and bright lustre) a
happy alteration, and full strength to stand her Champion against all the
world, that throw aspersions on her.
_Cow_. Sure he'll beat us, I see it in his eyes.
_Egre_. A second _Charles_; pray look not, Sir, so furiously.
_Eust_. Recant what you have said, ye Mungrils, and lick up the vomit ye
have cast upon the Court, where you unworthily have had warmth and
breeding, and swear that you, like Spiders, have made poison of that which
was a saving Antidote.
_Egre_. We will swear any thing.
_Cow_. We honour the Court as a most sacred place.
_Egre_. And will make oath, if you enjoyn us to't, nor knave, nor fool,
nor coward living in it.
_Eust_. Except you two, you Rascals.
_Cow_. Yes, we are all these, and more, if you will have it so.
_Eust_. And that until you are again reform'd and grown new men, you
ne'ere presume to name the Court, or press into the Porter's Lodge but for
a penance, to be disciplin'd for your roguery, and this done with true
contrition.
_Both_. Yes, Sir.
_Eust_. You again may eat scraps, and be thankful.
_Cow_. Here's a cold breakfast after a sharp nights walking.
_Eust_. Keep your oaths, and without grumbling vanish.
_Both_. We are gone, Sir. [_Exeunt_.
_Eust_. May all the poorness of my spirit go with you: the fetters of my
thraldom are fil'd off, and I at liberty to right my self; and though my
hope in _Angellina's_ little, my honour (unto which compar'd she's
nothing) shall, like the Sun, disperse those lowring Clouds that yet
obscure and dim it; not the name of Brother shall divert me, but from him,
that in the world's opinion ruin'd me, I will seek reparation, and call
him unto a strict accompt. Ha! 'tis near day, and if the Muses friend,
Rose-cheek'd _Aurora_, invite him to this solitary Grove, as I much hope
she will, he seldome missing to pay his vows here to her, I shall hazard
to hinder his devotions--The door opens, 'tis he most certain, and by's
side my Sword. Blest Opportunity.
_Enter_ Charles.
_Char_. I have o'er-slept my self, and lost part of the morn, but I'le
recover it: Before I went to bed, I wrote some Notes within my Table-book,
which I will now consider. Ha! what means this? What do I with a Sword?
Learn'd _Mercury_ needs not th' aid of _Mars_, and innocence is to it self
a guard; yet since Arms ever protect Arts, I may justly wear and use it;
for since 'twas made my prize, I know not how I'm grown in love with't,
and cannot eat nor study, and much less walk without it. But I trifle,
matters of more weight ask my judgment.
_Eust_. Now, Sir, treat of no other Theme, I'le keep you to it, and see
y'expound it well.
_Char_. _Eustace_!
_Eust_. The same, Sir, your younger Brother, who, as duty binds him, hath
all this night (turn'd out of door) attended, to bid Good-morrow t'ye.
_Char_. This not in scorn, commands me to return it. Would you ought else?
_Eust_. O much, Sir, here I end not, but begin; I must speak to you in
another strain than yet I ever us'd; and if the language appear in the
delivery rough and harsh, you (being my Tutor) must condemn your self,
from whom I learn'd it.
_Char_. When I understand (be't in what style you please) what's your
demand, I shall endeavour, in the self-same phrase, to make an answer to
the point.
_Eust_. I come not to lay claim to your birth-right, 'tis your own, and
'tis fit you enjoy it; nor ask I from you your learning and deep
knowledge; (though I am not a Scholar as you are) I know them Diamonds by
your sole industry, patience and labour, forc'd from steep Rocks, and with
much toil attended, and but to few that prize their value granted, and
therefore without Rival freely wear them.
_Char_. These not repin'd at (as you seem t'inform me) the motion must be
of a strange condition, if I refuse to yield to't; therefore, _Eustace_,
without this tempest in your looks, propound it, and fear not a denial.
_Eust_. I require then (as from an Enemy, and not a Brother) the
reputation of a man, the honour, not by a fair War won when I was waking,
but in my sleep of folly ravish'd from me; with these, the restitution of
my Sword, with large acknowledgment of satisfaction, my Coach, my Horses;
I will part with life, ere lose one hair of them; and, what concludes all,
my Mistris _Angellina_, as she was before the musical Magick of thy tongue
inchanted and seduc'd her. These perform'd, and with submission, and done
publickly, at my Father's and my Uncle's intercession, (that I put in too)
I perhaps may listen to terms of reconcilement; but if these, in every
circumstance, are not subscrib'd to, to the last gasp I defie thee.
_Char_. These are strict conditions to a Brother.
_Eust_. My rest is up, nor will I give less.
_Char_. I'm no Gamester, _Eustace_, yet I can ghess your resolution stands
to win or lose all; I rejoyce to find ye thus tender of your honour, and
that at length you understand what a wretched thing you were, how deeply
wounded by your self, and made almost incurable in your own hopes, the
dead flesh of pale cowardise growing over your festred reputation, which
no Balm or gentle Unguent could ever make way to; and I am happy that I
was the Surgeon that did apply those burning corrosives, that render you
already sensible o'th' danger you were plung'd in, in teaching you, and by
a fair gradation, how far, and with what curious respect and care the
peace and credit of a man within, (which you ne'er thought till now)
should be preferr'd before a gawdy outside; pray you fix here, for so far
I go with you.
_Eust_. This discourse is from the subject.
_Char_. I'le come to it, Brother; but if you think to build upon my
ruines, you'll find a false foundation: your high offers, taught by the
Masters of dependencies, that by compounding differences 'tween others,
supply their own necessities, with me will never carry't: as you are my
Brother, I will dispense a little, but no more than honour can give way
to; nor must I destroy that in my self I love in you; and therefore let
not hopes or threats persuade you I will descend to any composition for
which I may be censur'd.
_Eust_. You shall fight then.
_Char_. With much unwillingness with you; but if there's no evasion--
_Eust_. None.
_Char_. Hear yet a word; as for the Sword and other fripperies, in a fair
way send for them, you shall have 'em. But rather than surrender
_Angellina_, or hear it again mention'd, I oppose my breast unto loud
thunder, cast behind me all tyes of Nature.
_Eust_. She detain'd, I'm deaf to all persuasion.
_Char_. Guard thy self then. _Eustace_; I use no other Rhetorick.
_Enter_ Miram.
_Mir_. Clashing of swords so near my house! Brother oppos'd to Brother!
here's no fencing at half sword; hold, hold, _Charles, Eustace_.
_Eust_. Second him, or call in more help. Come not between us, I'le not
know nor spare you; D'ye fight by th' book?
_Char_. 'Tis you that wrong me, off Sir, and suddenly, I'le conjure down
the Spirit that I have rais'd in him.
_Eust_. Never, _Charles_, 'tis thine, and in thy death, be doubled in me.
_Mir_. I'm out of breath, yet trust not too much to't, Boys; for if you
pause not suddenly, and hear reason, do, kill your Uncle, do; but that I'm
patient, and not a cholerick old teasty fool, like your Father, I'd dance
a matachin with you, should make you sweat your best bloud for't; I would,
and it may be I will. _Charles_, I command thee, and _Eustace_, I entreat
thee, th'art a brave Spark, a true tough-metall'd blade, and I begin to
love thee heartily; give me a fighting Courtier, I'le cherish him for
example; in our Age they're not born every day.
_Char_. You of late, Sir, in me lov'd learning.
_Mir_. True, but take me w'ye, _Charles_; 'twas when young _Eustace_ wore
his heart in's breeches, and fought his Battels in Complements and
Cringes, when's understanding wav'd in a flanting Feather, and his best
contemplation look'd no further than a new fashion'd doublet; I confess
then, the lofty noise your Greek made, only pleas'd me; but now he's
turn'd an _Oliver_ and a _Rowland_, nay, the whole dozen of Peers are
bound up in him: Let me remember, when I was of his years, I did look very
like him; and did you see my Picture as I was then, you would swear that
gallant _Eustace_ (I mean, now he dares fight) was the true substance, and
the perfect figure. Nay, nay, no anger, you shall have enough, _Charles_.
_Char_. Sure, Sir, I shall not need addition from him.
_Eust_. Nor I from any, this shall decide my interest; though I am lost to
all deserving men, to all that men call good, for suffering tamely
insufferable wrongs, and justly slighted by yielding to a minute of delay
in my revenge, and from that made a stranger unto my Father's house and
favour, o'erwhelm'd with all disgraces; yet I will mount upward, and force
my self a fortune, though my birth and breeding do deny it.
_Char_. Seek not, _Eustace_, by violence, what will be offer'd to you on
easier composition; though I was not alli'd unto your weakness, you shall
find me a Brother to your bravery of spirit, and one that, not compell'd
to't by your sword, (which I must never fear) will share with you in all
but _Angellina_.
_Mir_. Nobly said, _Charles_, and learn from my experience, you may hear
reason, and never maim your fighting; for your credit, which you think you
have lost, spare _Charles_, and swinge me, and soundly; three or four
walking velvet Cloaks, that wear no swords to guard 'em, yet deserve it,
thou art made up again.
_Eust_. All this is Lip-salve.
_Mir_. It shall be Hearts-ease, _Eustace_, ere I have done; as for thy
Father's anger, now thou dar'st fight, ne'er fear it, for I've the dowcets
of his gravity fast in a string, I will so pinch and wring him, that,
spight of his authority, thou shalt make thine own conditions with him.
_Eust_. I'le take leave a little to consider.
_Char_. Here comes _Andrew_.
_Mir_. But without his comical and learned face; what sad disaster,
_Andrew_?
_And_. You m[a]y read, Sir, a Tragedy in my face.
_Mir_. Art thou in earnest?
_And_. Yes, by my life, Sir; and if now you help not, and speedily, by
force, or by persuasion, my good old Master (for now I pity him) is ruin'd
for ever.
_Char_. Ha, my Father!
_And_. He, Sir.
_Mir_. By what means? speak.
_And_. At the suit of Monsieur _Lewis_; his house is seiz'd upon, and he
in person is under guard, (I saw it with these eyes, Sir) to be convey'd
to _Paris_, and there Sentenc'd.
_Mir_. Nay, then there is no jesting.
_Char_. Do I live, and know my Father injur'd?
_And_. And what's worse, Sir, my Ladie _Angellina_--
_Eust_. What of her?
_And_. She's carri'd away too.
_Mir_. How?
_And_. While you were absent, a crew of Monsieur _Lewis_ friends and
kinsmen, by force, brake in at th' back part of the house, and took her
away by violence; faithful _Andrew_ (as this can witness for him) did his
best in her defence, but 'twould not do.
_Mir_. Away, and see our Horses sadled, 'tis no time to talk, but do.
_Eustace_, you now are offer'd a spatious field, and in a pious War to
exercise your valour; here's a cause, and such a one, in which to fall is
honourable, your dutie and reverence due to a fathers name commanding it;
but these unnatural jars arising between Brothers (should you prosper)
would shame your victory.
_Eust_. I would do much, Sir, but still my rep[u]tation!
_Mir. Charles_ shall give you all decent satisfaction; nay, joyn hands,
and heartily, why, this is done like Brothers; and as old as I am, in this
cause that concerns the honour of our Family, Monsieur _Lewis_ (if reason
cannot work) shall find and feel there's hot blood in this arm, I'le lead
you bravely.
_Eust_. And if I follow not, a cowards name be branded on my forehead.
_Char_. This spirit makes you a sharer in my fortunes.
_Mir_. And in mine, of which (_Brisac_ once freed, and _Angellina_ again
in our possession) you shall know, my heart speaks in my tongue.
_Eust_. I dare not doubt it, Sir. [_Exeunt_.