No More Learning

_ It will be the greatest honour I ever received in
my life. What, my lord mayor invite me to supper? I am his
lordship's most humble servant.

_Four. _ Yes, sir, if your name be Sir Davy Dunce, as I have the
honour to be informed it is: he desires you moreover to make
what haste you can, for that he has some matters of importance
to communicate to your honour, which may take up some time.

_L. Dunce. _ I hope it will succeed. [_Aside. _

_Sir Dav. _ Communicate with me! he does me too noble a favour;
I'll fly upon the wings of ambition to lay myself at his
footstool. My lord mayor sends himself to invite me to supper;
to confer with me too! I shall certainly be a great man.

_Four. _ What answer will your worship charge me back withal?

_Sir Dav. _ Let his lordship know that I am amazed and
confounded at his generosity; and that I am so transported
with the honour he does me, that I will not fail to wait on him
in the roasting of an egg.

_Four. _ I am your worship's lowly slave. [_Exit. _

_Sir Dav. _ Vermin, go get the coach ready; get me the gold
medal too and chain, which I took from the Roman Catholic
officer for a popish relic [_Exit_ VERMIN. ] I'll be fine, I'll
shine, and drink wine that's divine. My lord mayor invite me to
supper!

_L. Dunce. _ My dearest, I'm glad to see thee returned in
safety, from the bottom of my heart: hast thou seen the traitor?

_Sir Dav. _ Seen him! hang him, I have seen him: pox on him,
seen him!

_L. Dunce. _ Well, and what is become of him? where is he?

_Sir Dav. _ Why dost thou ask me where he is? What a pox care
I what becomes of him? Pr'ythee don't trouble me with thy
impertinence; I am busy.

_L. Dunce. _ You are not angry, my dear, are you?

_Sir Dav. _ No, but I am pleased, and that's all one; very much
pleased, let me tell you but that; I am only to sup with my
lord mayor, that's all; nothing else in the world, only the
business of the nation calls upon me, that's all; therefore,
once more I say, don't be troublesome, but stand off.

_L. Dunce. _ You always think my company troublesome; you never
stay at home to comfort me; what think you I shall do alone by
myself all this evening, moping in my chamber? Pray, my joy,
stay with me for once. --I hope he won't take me at my word.
[_Aside. _

_Sir Dav. _ I say again and again, tempter, stand off; I will
not lose my preferment for my pleasure; honour is towards me,
and flesh and blood are my aversion.

_L. Dunce. _ But how long will you stay then?

_Sir Dav. _ I don't know; may be not an hour, may be all night,
as his lordship and I think fit; what's that to anybody?

_L. Dunce. _ You are very cruel to me.

_Sir Dav. _ I can't help it; go, get you in, and pass away the
time with your neighbour; I'll be back again before I die; in
the mean time, be humble and conformable, go.

_Re-enter_ VERMIN.

Is the coach ready?

_Ver. _ Yes, sir.

_Sir Dav. _ Well, your servant. What, nothing to my lady
mayoress? You have a great deal of breeding indeed, a great
deal! nothing to my lady mayoress?

_L. Dunce. _ My service to her, if you please.

_Sir Dav. _ Well, da, da--the poor fool cries, o' my conscience!
adieu, do you hear, farewell. [_Exit. _

_L. Dunce. _ As well as what I love can make me.

_Re-enter_ Sir JOLLY JUMBLE.

_Sir Jol. _ Madam, is he gone?

_L. Dunce. _ In post-haste, I assure you.

_Sir Jol. _ In troth, and joy go with him!

_L. Dunce. _ Do you then, Sir Jolly, conduct the captain hither,
whilst I go and dispose of the family, that we may be private.
[_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]


SCENE II. --_A Room in_ Sir DAVY DUNCE'S _House_.

_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.

_Sir Dav. _ Troth, I had forgot my medal and chain, quite,
and clean forgot my relic; I was forced to come up these
back stairs, for fear of meeting my wife again; it is the
troublesomest loving fool! I must into my closet, and write a
short letter too; 'tis post-night, I had forgot that: well, I
would not have my wife catch me for a guinea. [_Exit. _

_Enter_ BEAUGARD _and_ Lady DUNCE.

_Beau. _ Are you very certain, madam, nobody is this way? I
fancy, as we entered, I saw the glimpse of something more than
ordinary.

_L. Dunce. _ Is it your care of me, or your personal fears, that
make you so suspicious? Whereabouts was the apparition?

_Beau. _ There, there, just at the very door.

_L. Dunce. _ Fie for shame! that's Sir Davy's closet; and he,
I am satisfied, is far enough off by this time. I'm sure I
heard the coach drive him away. But to convince you, you shall
see now: Sir Davy, Sir Davy, Sir Davy. [_Knocking at the
closet-door. _] Look you there, you a captain, and afraid of a
shadow! Come, sir, shall we call for the cards?

_Beau. _ And what shall we play for, pretty one?

_L. Dunce. _ E'en what you think best, sir.

_Beau. _ Silver kisses, or golden joys? Come, let us make stakes
a little.

_Enter_ Sir JOLLY JUMBLE, _unobserved_.

_Sir Jol. _ Ah rogue, ah rogue! are you there? Have I caught you
in faith, now, now, now? [_Aside. _

_L. Dunce. _ And who shall keep them?

_Beau. _ You, till Sir Davy returns from supper.

_L. Dunce. _ That may be long enough; for our engine Fourbin has
orders not to give him over suddenly, I assure you.

_Beau. _ And is't to yourself, then, I'm obliged for this blest
opportunity? Let us improve it to love's best advantage.

_Sir Jol. _ Ah--ah! [_Aside. _

_Beau. _ Let's vow eternal, and raise our thoughts to
expectation of immortal pleasures: in one another's eyes let's
read our joys, till we've no longer power o'er our desires,
drunk with this dissolving. Oh!

_Re-enter_ Sir _Davy Dunce from his closet_.

_L. Dunce. _ Ah! [_Squeaks. _

_Beau. _ By this light, the cuckold! Presto, nay, then halloo!
[_Gets up, and runs away. _

_Sir Dav. _ O Lord, a man--a man in my wife's chamber! Murder!
murder! Thieves! thieves! shut up my doors! Madam! madam! madam!

_Sir Jol. _ Ay, ay! Thieves! thieves! Murder! murder! Where,
neighbour, where, where?

_L. Dunce. _ [_Catches up_ BEAUGARD's _sword, which he had
left behind him in the hurry, and presents it to_ Sir DAVY. ]
Pierce, pierce this wretched heart hard to the hilts; dye this
in the deepest crimson of my blood; spare not a miserable
woman's life, whom Heaven designed to be the unhappy object of
the most horrid usage man e'er acted.

_Sir Dav. _ What, in the name of Satan, does she mean now?

_L. Dunce. _ Curse on my fatal beauty! blasted ever be these two
baneful eyes, that could inspire a barbarous villain to attempt
such crimes as all my blood's too little to atone for: nay, you
shall hear me--

_Sir Dav. _ Hear you, madam! No, I have seen too much, I thank
you heartily; hear you, quoth-a!

_L. Dunce. _ Yes, and before I die too, I'll be justified.

_Sir Dav. _ Justified, O Lord, justified!

_L. Dunce. _ Notice being given me of your return, I came with
speed to this unhappy place, where I have oft been blest with
your embraces, when from behind the arras out starts Beaugard;
how he came there Heaven knows.

_Sir Dav. _ I'll have him hanged for burglary; he has broken my
house, and broke the peace upon my wife: very good.

_L. Dunce.
_ Straight in his arms he grasped me fast; with much
ado I plunged and got my freedom, ran to your closet-door,
knocked and implored your aid, called on your name; but all in
vain--

_Sir Dav. _ Ha!

_L. Dunce. _ Soon again he seized me, stopped my mouth, and,
with a conqueror's fury--

_Sir Dav. _ O Lord! O Lord! no more, no more, I beseech thee;
I shall grow mad, and very mad! I'll plough up rocks and
adamantine iron bars; I'll crack the frame of nature, sally out
like Tamberlane upon the Trojan horse, and drive the pigmies
all like geese before me. O Lord, stop her mouth! Well, and
how? and what then? stopped thy mouth! well! ha!

_L. Dunce. _ No, though unfortunate, I still am innocent; his
cursed purpose could not be accomplished; but who will live so
injured? No, I'll die to be revenged on myself: I ne'er can
hope that I may see his streaming gore; and thus I let out my
own-- [_Offers to run upon the sword. _

_Sir Dav. _ Ha, what wouldst thou do, my love? Pr'ythee don't
break my heart: if thou wilt kill, kill me; I know thou art
innocent, I see thou art; though I had rather be a cuckold a
thousand times, than lose thee, poor love, poor dearee, poor
baby.

_Sir Jol. _ Alack-a-day! [_Weeps. _

_L. Dunce. _ Ah me!

_Sir Dav. _ Ah, pr'ythee be comforted now, pr'ythee do; why,
I'll love thee the better for this, for all this, mun; why
shouldst be troubled for another's ill doings? I know it was no
fault of thine.

_Sir Jol. _ No, no more it was not, I dare swear. [_Aside. _

_Sir Dav. _ See, see, my neighbour weeps too; he's troubled to
see thee thus.

_L. Dunce. _ Oh, but revenge!

_Sir Dav. _ Why, thou shalt have revenge; I'll have him
murdered; I'll have his throat cut before to-morrow morning,
child: rise now, pr'ythee rise.

_Sir Jol. _ Ay, do, madam, and smile upon Sir Davy.

_L. Dunce. _ But will you love me then as well as e'er you did?

_Sir Dav. _ Ay, and the longest day I live too.

_L. Dunce. _ And shall I have justice done me on that prodigious
monster?

_Sir Dav. _ Why, he shall be crows'-meat by to-morrow night; I
tell thee he shall be crows'-meat by midnight, chicken.

_L. Dunce. _ Then I will live; since so, 'tis something pleasant:

When I in peace may lead a happy life
With such a husband--

_Sir Dav. _ I with such a wife. [_Exeunt. _

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

FOOTNOTES:

[40] Rosamond's Pond (not Ponds) was at the S. W. side of St. James's
Park. It was filled up more than a century ago.




ACT THE FOURTH.


SCENE 1. --_A Tavern. _

_Enter_ BEAUGARD, COURTINE, _and_ Drawer.

_Draw. _ Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome, sir; will you please
to walk up one pair of stairs?

_Beau. _ Get the great room ready presently; carry up too a good
stock of bottles before-hand, with ice to cool our wine, and
water to refresh our glasses.

_Draw. _ It shall be done, sir. --Coming, coming there, coming:
speak up in the Dolphin, somebody. [_Exit. _

_Beau. _ Ah, Courtine, must we be always idle? must we never see
our glorious days again? when shall we be rolling in the lands
of milk and honey; encamped in large luxuriant vineyards, where
the loaded vines cluster about our tents; drink the rich juice,
just pressed from the plump grape; feeding on all the fragrant
golden fruit that grow in fertile climes, and ripened by the
earliest vigour of the sun?

_Cour. _ Ah, Beaugard, those days have been, but now we must
resolve to content ourselves at an humble rate. Methinks
it is not unpleasant to consider how I have seen thee in a
large pavilion, drowning the heat of the day in champagne
wines, sparkling sweet as those charming beauties whose dear
remembrance every glass recorded, with half a dozen honest
fellows more; friends, Beaugard; faithful hearty friends;
things as hard to meet with as preferment here; fellows that
would speak truth boldly, and were proud on't; that scorned
flattery, loved honesty, for 'twas their portion; and never yet
learned the trade of ease and lying: but now--

_Beau. _ And now we are at home in our natural hives, and sleep
like drones; but there's a gentleman on the other side the
water,[41] that may make work for us all one day.

_Cour. _ But in the meanwhile--

_Beau. _ In the meanwhile patience, Courtine; that is the
Englishman's virtue. Go to the man that owes you money,
and tell him you are necessitated; his answer shall be "A
little patience, I beseech you, sir. " Ask a cowardly rascal
satisfaction for a sordid injury done you; he shall cry,
"Alas-a-day, sir, you are the strangest man living, you won't
have patience to hear one speak. " Complain to a great man
that you want preferment, that you have forsaken considerable
advantages abroad, in obedience to public edicts; all you shall
get of him is this, "You must have patience, sir. "

_Cour. _ But will patience feed me, or clothe me, or keep me
clean?

_Beau. _ Pr'ythee no more hints of poverty: 'tis scandalous;
'sdeath, I would as soon choose to hear a soldier brag as
complain. Dost thou want any money?

_Cour. _ True, indeed, I want no necessaries to keep me alive;
but I do not enjoy myself with that freedom I would do; there
is no more pleasure in living at stint, than there is in living
alone. I would have it in my power, when he needed me, to serve
and assist my friend; I would to my ability deal handsomely too
by the woman that pleased me.

_Beau. _ Oh, fie for shame! you would be a whore-master, friend;
go, go, I'll have no more to do with you.

_Cour. _ I would not be forced neither at any time to avoid a
gentleman that had obliged me, for want of money to pay him a
debt contracted in our old acquaintance: it turns my stomach
to wheedle with the rogue I scorn, when he uses me scurvily,
because he has my name in his shop-book.

_Beau. _ As, for example, to endure the familiarities of a rogue
that shall cock his greasy hat in my face, when he duns me, and
at the same time vail it[42] to an over-grown deputy of the
ward, though a frowzy fellmonger.

_Cour. _ To be forced to concur with his nonsense too, and laugh
at his parish-jests.

_Beau. _ To use respects and ceremonies to the milchcow his
wife, and praise her pretty children, though they stink of
their mother, and are uglier than the issue of a baboon; yet
all this must be endured.

_Cour. _ Must it, Beaugard?

_Beau. _ And, since 'tis so, let's think of a bottle.

_Cour. _ With all my heart, for railing and drinking do much
better together than by themselves; a private room, a trusty
friend or two, good wine and bold truths, are my happiness. But
where's our dear friend and intimate, Sir Jolly, this evening?

_Beau. _ To deal like a friend, Courtine, I parted with him but
just now; he's gone to contrive me a meeting, if possible,
this night, with the woman my soul is most fond of. I was this
evening just entering upon the palace of all joy, when I met
with so damnable a disappointment--in short, that plague to all
well-meaning women, the husband, came unseasonably, and forced
a poor lover to his heels, that was fairly making his progress
another way, Courtine: the story thou shalt hear more at large
hereafter.

_Cour. _ A plague on him, why didst thou not murder the
presumptuous cuckold? saucy intruding clown, to dare to disturb
a gentleman's privacies! I would have beaten him into sense of
his transgression, enjoyed his wife before his face, and ha'
taught the dog his duty.

_Beau. _ Look you, Courtine, you think you are dealing with
the landlord of your winter-quarters in Alsatia now. Friend,
friend, there is a difference between a free-born English
cuckold and a sneaking wittol of a conquered province.

_Cour. _ Oh, by all means, there ought to be a difference
observed between your arbitrary whoring, and your limited
fornication.

_Beau. _ And but reason: for, though we may make bold with
another man's wife in a friendly way, yet nothing upon
compulsion, dear heart.

_Cour. _ And now Sir Jolly, I hope, is to be the instrument of
some immortal plot; some contrivance for the good of thy body,
and the old fellow's soul, Beaugard: for all cuckolds go to
Heaven, that's most certain.

_Beau. _ Sir Jolly! why, on my conscience, he thinks it as much
his undoubted right to be pimp-mastergeneral to London and
Middlesex, as the estate he possesses is: by my consent his
worship should e'en have a patent for it.

_Cour. _ He is certainly the fittest for the employment in
Christendom; he knows more families by their names and titles
than all the bell-men within and without the walls.

_Beau. _ Nay, he keeps a catalogue of the choicest beauties
about town, illustrated with a particular account of their
age, shape, proportion, colour of hair and eyes, degrees of
complexion, gunpowder spots and moles.

_Cour. _ I wish the old pander were bound to satisfy my
experience, what marks of good-nature my Sylvia has about her.

_Enter_ Sir JOLLY JUMBLE.

_Sir Jol. _ My captains! my sons of Mars and imps of Venus! well
encountered; what, shall we have a sparkling bottle or two, and
use Fortune like a jade? Beaugard, you are a rogue, you are a
dog, I hate you; get you gone, go.

_Beau. _ But, Sir Jolly, what news from paradise Sir Jolly? Is
there any hopes I shall come there to-night?

_Sir Jol. _ May be there is, may be there is not; I say let us
have a bottle, and I will say nothing else without a bottle:
after a glass or two my heart may open.

_Cour. _ Why, then we will have a bottle, Sir Jolly.

_Sir Jol. _ Will? we'll have dozens, and drink till we are wise,
and speak well of nobody; till we are lewder than midnight
whores, and out-rail disbanded officers.

_Beau. _ Only one thing more, my noble knight, and then we are
entirely at thy disposal.

_Sir Jol. _ Well, and what's that? What's the business?

_Beau. _ This friend of mine here stands in need of thy
assistance; he's damnably in love, Sir Jolly.

_Sir Jol. _ In love! is he so? In love! odds my life! Is she?
what's her name? where does she live? I warrant you I know her:
she's in my table-book, I'll warrant you: virgin, wife, or
widow? [_Pulls out a table-book. _

_Cour. _ In troth, Sir Jolly, that's something of a difficult
question; but, as virgins go now, she may pass for one of them.

_Sir Jol. _ Virgin, very good: let me see; virgin, virgin,
virgin; oh, here are the virgins; truly, I meet with the
fewest of this sort of any. Well, and the first letter of her
name now? for a wager I guess her.

_Cour. _ Then you must know, Sir Jolly, that I love my love with
an S.

_Sir Jol. _ S, S, S, oh, here are the Esses; let me consider
now--Sappho?

_Cour. _ No, sir.

_Sir Jol. _ Selinda?

_Cour. _ Neither.

_Sir Jol. _ Sophronia?

_Cour. _ You must guess again, I assure you.

_Sir Jol. _ Sylvia?

_Cour. _ Ay, ay, Sir Jolly, that's the fatal name; Sylvia the
fair, the witty, the ill-natured; do you know her, my friend?

_Sir Jol. _ Know her! why, she is my daughter, and I have
adopted her these seven years. Sylvia!