_ Oh, come not near him; there's such horrid
antipathy follows all murders, his wounds would stream afresh
should you but touch him.
antipathy follows all murders, his wounds would stream afresh
should you but touch him.
Thomas Otway
_ Sir, sir, sir!
constable!
watch!
stocks!
stocks!
stocks! murder! [_Exit. _
_Cour. _ Huzza, Beaugard!
_Re-enter_ BEAUGARD _and_ Sir JOLLY JUMBLE.
_Four. _ Well, sir, the business is done; we have bargained to
murder you.
_Beau. _ Murdered! who's to be murdered, ha, Fourbin?
_Sir Jol. _ You are to be murdered, friend; you shall be
murdered, friend.
_Beau. _ But how am I to be murdered? who's to murder me, I
beseech you?
_Four. _ Your humble servant, Fourbin; I am the man, with your
worship's leave: Sir Davy has given me this gold to do it
handsomely.
_Beau. _ Sir Davy! uncharitable cur; what! murder an honest
fellow for being civil to his family! What can this mean,
gentlemen?
_Sir Jol. _ No, 'tis for not being civil to his family, that it
means, gentlemen; therefore are you to be murdered to-night,
and buried a-bed with my lady, you Jack Straw, you.
_Beau. _ I understand you, friends; the old gentleman has
designed to have me butchered, and you have kindly contrived
to turn it to my advantage in the affair of love. I am to be
murdered but as it were, gentlemen, ha? [_Exit_ COURTINE.
_Four. _ Your honour has a piercing judgment. Sir, Captain
Courtine's gone.
_Beau. _ No matter, let him go: he has a design to put in
practice this night too, and would perhaps but spoil ours. But
when, Sir Jolly, is this business to be brought about?
_Sir Jol. _ Presently; 'tis more than time 'twere done already.
Go, get you gone, I say. Hold, hold, let's see your left ear
first, hum--ha--you are a rogue, you're a rogue; get you gone,
get you gone, go. [_Exeunt. _
[Illustration]
SCENE II. --_Outside_ Sir DAVY DUNCE'S _House_.
_Enter_ SYLVIA _and her_ Maid _in the Balcony_.
_Maid. _ But why, madam, will you use him so inhumanly? I'm
confident he loves you.
_Sylv. _ Oh! a true lover is to be found out like a true saint,
by the trial of his patience. Have you the cords ready?
_Maid. _ Here they are, madam.
_Sylv. _ Let them down, and be sure, when it comes to trial, to
pull lustily. Is Will the footman ready?
_Will. _ [_Within_] At your ladyship's command, madam.
_Sylv. _ I wonder he should stay so long; the clock has struck
twelve.
_Enter_ COURTINE, _singing_.
And was she not frank and free,
And was she not kind to me,
To lock up her cat in her cupboard,
And give her key to me, to me?
To lock up her cat in her cupboard,
And give her key to me?
_Sylv. _ This must be he: ay, 'tis he, and, as I am a virgin,
roaring drunk; but, if I find not a way to make him sober--
_Cour. _ Here, here's the window: ay, that's hell-door, and my
damnation's in the inside. Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia! dear imp of
Satan, appear to thy servant.
_Sylv. _ Who calls on Sylvia in this dead of night,
When rest is wanting to her longing eyes?
_Cour. _ 'Tis a poor wretch can hardly stand upright,
Drunk with thy love, and if he falls he lies.
_Sylv. _ Courtine, is't you?
_Cour. _ Yes, sweetheart, 'tis I; art thou ready for me?
_Sylv. _ Fasten yourself to that cord there; there, there it is.
_Cour. _ Cord! where? Oh, oh, here, here; so, now to Heaven in a
string.
_Sylv. _ Have you done?
_Cour. _ Yes, I have done, child, and would fain be doing too,
hussy.
_Sylv. _ [_To_ WILL, _within_. ] Then pull away, hoa up, hoa up,
hoa up! So, avast there, sir!
[COURTINE _is drawn halfway up to the balcony_.
_Cour. _ Madam!
_Sylv. _ Are you very much in love, sir?
_Cour. _ Oh, damnably, child, damnably.
_Sylv. _ I am sorry for't with all my heart: good-night, captain.
_Cour. _ Ha, gone! what, left in Erasmus' paradise, between
Heaven and hell? If the constable should take me now for a
straggling monkey hung by the loins, and hunt me with his cry
of watchmen? Ah, woman, woman, woman! Well, a merry life and a
short, that's all.
[_Sings_] God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all!
I am mighty loyal to-night.
_Enter_ FOURBIN _and_ BLOODY-BONES, _as from_
Sir DAVY DUNCE'S _House_.
_Four. _ Murder, murder, murder! help, help, murder!
_Cour. _ Nay, if there be murder stirring, 'tis high time to
shift for myself. [_Climbs up to the balcony. _
_Sylv. _ [_Squeaking. _] Ah! [_Exeunt_ SYLVIA _and_ COURT.
_Bloody-B. _ Yonder, yonder he comes; murder, murder, murder!
[_Exeunt_ BLOODY-BONES _and_ FOURBIN.
_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.
_Sir Dav. _ 'Tis very late; but murder is a melancholy business,
and night is fit for't. I'll go home. [_Knocks. _
_Ver. _ [_Within. _] Who's there?
_Sir Dav. _ Who's there! open the door, you whelp of Babylon.
_Ver. _ Oh, sir! you're welcome home; but here is the saddest
news! here has been murder committed, sir.
_Sir Dav. _ Hold your tongue, you fool, and go to sleep; get you
in, do you hear? you talk of murder, you rogue? you meddle with
state affairs? get you in. [_Exit. _
SCENE III. --_The Entrance Hall in the same. _
Sir JOLLY JUMBLE _and_ Lady DUNCE _discovered putting_
BEAUGARD _in order, as if he were dead_.
_Sir Jol. _ Lie still, lie still, you knave, close, close, when
I bid you: you had best quest,[46] and spoil the sport, you had!
_Beau. _ But pray how long must I lie thus?
_L. Dunce. _ I'll warrant you you'll think the time mighty
tedious.
_Beau. _ Sweet creature, who can counterfeit death when you are
near him?
_Sir Jol. _ You shall, sirrah, if a body desires you a little,
so you shall; we shall spoil all else, all will be spoiled
else, man, if you do not: stretch out longer, longer yet, as
long as ever you can. So, so, hold your breath, hold your
breath; very well.
_Enter_ Maid.
_Maid. _ Madam, here comes Sir Davy.
_Sir Jol. _ Odds so, now close again as I told you, close, you
devil; now stir if you dare; stir but any part about you if you
dare now; odd, I'll hit you such a rap if you do! Lie still,
lie you still.
_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.
_Sir Dav. _ My dear, how dost thou do, my dear? I am come.
_L. Dunce. _ Ah, sir, what is't you've done? you've ruined me;
your family, your fortune, all is ruined; where shall we go, or
whither shall we fly?
_Sir Dav. _ Where shall we go! why, we'll go to bed, you little
jackadandy: why, you are not a wench, you rogue, you are a boy,
a very boy, and I love you the better for't: sirrah, hey!
_L. Dunce. _ Ah, sir, see there.
_Sir Dav. _ Bless us! a man! and bloody! what, upon my
hall-table!
_L. Dunce. _ Two ruffians brought him in just now, pronouncing
the inhuman deed was done by your command: Sir Jolly came in
the same minute, or sure I had died with my distracting fears.
How could you think on a revenge so horrid?
_Sir Dav. _ As I hope to be saved, neighbour, I only bargained
with them to bastinado him in a way, or so, as one friend might
do to another: but do you say that he is dead?
_Sir Jol. _ Dead, dead as clay; stark stiff and useless all,
nothing about him stirring, but all's cold and still. I knew
him a lusty fellow once, a very mettled fellow; 'tis a thousand
pities!
_Sir Dav. _ What shall I do? I'll throw myself upon him, kiss
his wide wounds, and weep till blind as buzzard.
_L. Dunce.
_ Oh, come not near him; there's such horrid
antipathy follows all murders, his wounds would stream afresh
should you but touch him. [47]
_Sir Dav. _ Dear neighbour, dearest neighbour, friend, Sir
Jolly, as you love charity, pity my wretched case, and give me
counsel; I'll give my wife and all my estate to have him live
again; or shall I bury him in the arbour, at the upper end of
the garden?
_Sir Jol. _ Alas-a-day, neighbour, never think on't, never think
on't; the dogs will find him there, as they scrape holes to
bury bones in; there is but one way that I know of.
_Sir Dav. _ What is it, dear neighbour, what is it? You see I am
upon my knees to you; take all I have and ease me of my fears.
_Sir Jol. _ Truly the best thing that I can think of is putting
of him to bed, putting him into a warm bed, and try to fetch
him to life again; a warm bed is the best thing in the world.
My lady may do much too, she's a good woman, and, as I've been
told, understands a green wound well.
_Sir Dav. _ My dear, my dear, my dear!
_L. Dunce. _ Bear me away! oh, send me hence far off, where my
unhappy name may be a stranger, and this sad accident no more
remembered to my dishonour!
_Sir Dav. _ Ah, but my love! my joy! are there no bowels in thee?
_L. Dunce. _ What would you have me do?
_Sir Dav. _ Pr'ythee do so much as try thy skill; there may be
one dram of life left in him yet. Take him up to thy chamber,
put him into thy own bed, and try what thou canst do with him;
pr'ythee do: if thou canst but find motion in him, all may be
well yet. I'll go up to my closet in the garret, and say my
prayers in the mean while.
_L. Dunce. _ Will ye then leave this ruin on my hands?
_Sir Dav. _ Pray, pray, my dear; I beseech you, neighbour, help
to persuade her if it be possible.
_Sir Jol. _ Faith, madam, do, try what you can do. I have a
great fancy you may do him good; who can tell but you may have
the gift of stroking? Pray, madam, be persuaded.
_L. Dunce. _ I'll do whate'er's your pleasure.
_Sir Dav. _ That's my best dear: I'll go to my closet and pray
for thee heartily. Alas, alas, that ever this should happen!
[_Exit. _
_Beau. _ So, is he gone, madam, my angel?
_Sir Jol. _ What, no thanks, no reward for old Jolly now?
Come hither, hussy, you little canary-bird, you little
hop-o'-my-thumb, come hither: make me a curtsey, and give me a
kiss now, ha! give me a kiss, I say; odd, I will have a kiss,
so I will, I will have a kiss if I set on't. Shoogh, shoogh,
shoogh, get you into a corner when I bid you, shoogh, shoogh,
shoogh--what, there already? [_She goes to_ BEAUGARD. ] Well, I
ha' done, I ha' done; this 'tis to be an old fellow now.
_Beau. _ And will you save the life of him you've wounded?
_L. Dunce. _ Dare you trust yourself to my skill for a cure?
[Sir DAVY _appears at a window above_.
_Sir Jol. _ Hist! hist! Close, close, I say again; yonder's Sir
Davy, odds so!
_Sir Dav. _ My dear! my dear! my dear!
_L. Dunce. _ Who's that calls? my love, is't you?
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, some comfort or my heart's broke! are there any
hopes yet? I've tried to say my prayers, and cannot: if he be
quite dead, I shall never pray again! Neighbour, no hopes?
_Sir Jol. _ Truly little or none; some small pulse I think there
is left, very little: there's nothing to be done if you don't
pray: get you to prayers whatever you do. Get you gone; nay,
don't stay now, shut the window, I tell you.
_Sir Dav. _ Well, this is a great trouble to me; but good-night.
[_Retires. _
_Sir Jol. _ Good-night to you, dear neighbour. --Get ye up, get
ye up, and begone into the next room presently, make haste.
[_To_ BEAUGARD _and_ Lady DUNCE. ] But don't steal away till
I come to you; be sure ye remember, don't ye stir till I
come--pish, none of this bowing and fooling, it but loses time;
I'll only bolt the door that belongs to Sir Davy's lodgings,
that he may be safe, and be with you in a twinkle. Ah--so, now
for the door; very well, friend, you are fast.
[_Bolts the door and sings. _
Bonny lass, gan thoo wert mine,
And twonty thoosand poonds aboot thee, &c. [_Exeunt. _
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[41] Louis XIV.
[42] Take it off.
[43] This probably refers to the supposed murder, in 1678, of Sir
Edmundsbury Godfrey, the magistrate before whom Titus Oates made
his incredible depositions concerning the alleged Popish plot. Many
believed it was a case of suicide. He was found pierced through with
his own sword on Primrose Hill. But the infamous Bedloe, a convicted
felon, and accomplice of Titus Oates, accused Queen Catharine's
Catholic servants of murdering Godfrey in Somerset House, where the
queen then resided, and so struck at the queen herself. Oates and he
afterwards accused her of conspiring to murder the king. But Charles
was not so mad and bad as to believe them. Godfrey had warned one of
the denounced persons, Coleman, and the murder, if it was one, is now
generally attributed to the Ultra-Protestant faction. At any rate,
they used the incident to inflame the public mind against the Roman
Catholics.
[44] Algiers.
[45] _i. e. _ Drink to him.
[46] Sporting dogs used to be called "questing hounds" (see Malory, for
instance), and a hound may run forward in pursuit at the wrong moment.
This is evidently the allusion here.
[47] An allusion to the common superstition that if the murderer
touched the dead body the wounds would commence to bleed afresh.
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I. --SYLVIA'S _Chamber_.
COURTINE _discovered bound on a couch_.
_Cour. _ Heigho! heigho! Ha! where am I? Was I drunk or no,
last night? Something leaning that way. But where the devil am
I? sincerely in a bawdy-house: faugh! what a smell of sin is
here! Let me look about; if there be ever a Geneva Bible or
a _Practice of Piety_ in the room, I am sure I have guessed
right. What's the matter now? tied fast! bound too! What tricks
have I played to come into this condition? I have lighted into
the territories of some merrily-disposed chambermaid or other;
and she in a witty fit, forsooth, hath trussed me up thus: has
she pinned no rags to my tail, or chalked me upon the back,
trow? Would I had her mistress here at a venture!
_Enter_ SYLVIA _and_ Maid.
_Sylv. _ What would you do with her, my enchanted knight, if you
had her? you are too sober for her by this time: next time you
get drunk, you may perhaps venture to scale her balcony like a
valiant captain as you are.
_Cour. _ Hast thou done this, my dear destruction? and am I in
thy limbo? I must confess, when I am in my beer, my courage
does run away with me now and then; but let me loose, and thou
shalt see what a gentle humble animal thou hast made me. Fie
upon't! what, tie me up like an ungovernable cur to the frame
of a table! let, let thy poor dog loose, that he may fawn and
make much of thee a little.
_Sylv. _ What, with those paws which you have been ferreting
Moor-fields withal, and are very dirty still? After you have
been daggling[48] yourself abroad for prey, and can meet with
none, you come sneaking hither for a crust, do you?
_Maid. _ Shall I fetch the whip and the bell, madam, and slash
him for his roguery soundly?
_Cour. _ Indeed, indeed! Do you long to be ferking[49] of man's
flesh, madam flea-trap? Does the chaplain of the family use you
to the exercise, that you are so ready for it?
_Sylv. _ If you should be let loose, and taken into favour now,
you would be for rambling again so soon as you had got your
liberty.
_Cour. _ Do but try me, and if ever I prove recreant more, let
me be beaten and used like a dog in good earnest.
_Sylv. _ Promise to grant me but one request, and it shall be
done.
_Cour. _ Hear me but swear.
_Sylv. _ That anybody may do ten thousand times a-day.
_Cour. _ Upon the word of a gentleman; nay, as I hope to get
money in pocket.
_Sylv. _ There I believe him, lelely. [50] You'll keep your word,
you say?
_Cour. _ If I don't, hang me up in that wench's old garters.
_Sylv. _ See, sir, you have your freedom. [_Unbinds him. _
_Cour. _ Well, now name the price; what I must pay for't?
_Sylv. _ You know, sir, considering our small acquaintance, you
have been pleased to talk to me very freely of love-matters.
_Cour. _ I must confess, I have been something to blame that
way; but if ever thou hearest more of it from my mouth after
this night's adventure--would I were well out of the house!
_Sylv. _ Have a care of swearing, I beseech you; for you must
understand that, spite of my teeth, I am at last fallen in love
most unmercifully.
_Cour. _ And dost thou imagine I am so hard-hearted a villain as
to have no compassion of thee?
_Sylv. _ No, for I hope he's a man you can have no exceptions
against.
_Cour. _ Yes, yes, the man is a man, I'll assure you, that's one
comfort.
_Sylv. _ Who do you think it may be now? try if you can guess
him.
_Cour. _ Whoever he is, he's an honest fellow, I'll warrant him,
and I believe will not think himself very unhappy neither.
_Sylv. _ If a fortune of five thousand pounds, pleasant nights,
and quiet days, can make him happy, I assure you he may be so;
but try once to guess at him.
_Cour. _ But if I should be mistaken?
_Sylv. _ Why, who is it you would wish me to?
_Cour. _ You have five thousand pound, you say?
_Sylv. _ Yes.
_Cour. _ Faith, child, to deal honestly, I know well enough
who 'tis I wish for; but, sweetheart, before I tell you my
inclinations, it were but reasonable that I knew yours.
_Sylv.
stocks! murder! [_Exit. _
_Cour. _ Huzza, Beaugard!
_Re-enter_ BEAUGARD _and_ Sir JOLLY JUMBLE.
_Four. _ Well, sir, the business is done; we have bargained to
murder you.
_Beau. _ Murdered! who's to be murdered, ha, Fourbin?
_Sir Jol. _ You are to be murdered, friend; you shall be
murdered, friend.
_Beau. _ But how am I to be murdered? who's to murder me, I
beseech you?
_Four. _ Your humble servant, Fourbin; I am the man, with your
worship's leave: Sir Davy has given me this gold to do it
handsomely.
_Beau. _ Sir Davy! uncharitable cur; what! murder an honest
fellow for being civil to his family! What can this mean,
gentlemen?
_Sir Jol. _ No, 'tis for not being civil to his family, that it
means, gentlemen; therefore are you to be murdered to-night,
and buried a-bed with my lady, you Jack Straw, you.
_Beau. _ I understand you, friends; the old gentleman has
designed to have me butchered, and you have kindly contrived
to turn it to my advantage in the affair of love. I am to be
murdered but as it were, gentlemen, ha? [_Exit_ COURTINE.
_Four. _ Your honour has a piercing judgment. Sir, Captain
Courtine's gone.
_Beau. _ No matter, let him go: he has a design to put in
practice this night too, and would perhaps but spoil ours. But
when, Sir Jolly, is this business to be brought about?
_Sir Jol. _ Presently; 'tis more than time 'twere done already.
Go, get you gone, I say. Hold, hold, let's see your left ear
first, hum--ha--you are a rogue, you're a rogue; get you gone,
get you gone, go. [_Exeunt. _
[Illustration]
SCENE II. --_Outside_ Sir DAVY DUNCE'S _House_.
_Enter_ SYLVIA _and her_ Maid _in the Balcony_.
_Maid. _ But why, madam, will you use him so inhumanly? I'm
confident he loves you.
_Sylv. _ Oh! a true lover is to be found out like a true saint,
by the trial of his patience. Have you the cords ready?
_Maid. _ Here they are, madam.
_Sylv. _ Let them down, and be sure, when it comes to trial, to
pull lustily. Is Will the footman ready?
_Will. _ [_Within_] At your ladyship's command, madam.
_Sylv. _ I wonder he should stay so long; the clock has struck
twelve.
_Enter_ COURTINE, _singing_.
And was she not frank and free,
And was she not kind to me,
To lock up her cat in her cupboard,
And give her key to me, to me?
To lock up her cat in her cupboard,
And give her key to me?
_Sylv. _ This must be he: ay, 'tis he, and, as I am a virgin,
roaring drunk; but, if I find not a way to make him sober--
_Cour. _ Here, here's the window: ay, that's hell-door, and my
damnation's in the inside. Sylvia, Sylvia, Sylvia! dear imp of
Satan, appear to thy servant.
_Sylv. _ Who calls on Sylvia in this dead of night,
When rest is wanting to her longing eyes?
_Cour. _ 'Tis a poor wretch can hardly stand upright,
Drunk with thy love, and if he falls he lies.
_Sylv. _ Courtine, is't you?
_Cour. _ Yes, sweetheart, 'tis I; art thou ready for me?
_Sylv. _ Fasten yourself to that cord there; there, there it is.
_Cour. _ Cord! where? Oh, oh, here, here; so, now to Heaven in a
string.
_Sylv. _ Have you done?
_Cour. _ Yes, I have done, child, and would fain be doing too,
hussy.
_Sylv. _ [_To_ WILL, _within_. ] Then pull away, hoa up, hoa up,
hoa up! So, avast there, sir!
[COURTINE _is drawn halfway up to the balcony_.
_Cour. _ Madam!
_Sylv. _ Are you very much in love, sir?
_Cour. _ Oh, damnably, child, damnably.
_Sylv. _ I am sorry for't with all my heart: good-night, captain.
_Cour. _ Ha, gone! what, left in Erasmus' paradise, between
Heaven and hell? If the constable should take me now for a
straggling monkey hung by the loins, and hunt me with his cry
of watchmen? Ah, woman, woman, woman! Well, a merry life and a
short, that's all.
[_Sings_] God prosper long our noble king,
Our lives and safeties all!
I am mighty loyal to-night.
_Enter_ FOURBIN _and_ BLOODY-BONES, _as from_
Sir DAVY DUNCE'S _House_.
_Four. _ Murder, murder, murder! help, help, murder!
_Cour. _ Nay, if there be murder stirring, 'tis high time to
shift for myself. [_Climbs up to the balcony. _
_Sylv. _ [_Squeaking. _] Ah! [_Exeunt_ SYLVIA _and_ COURT.
_Bloody-B. _ Yonder, yonder he comes; murder, murder, murder!
[_Exeunt_ BLOODY-BONES _and_ FOURBIN.
_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.
_Sir Dav. _ 'Tis very late; but murder is a melancholy business,
and night is fit for't. I'll go home. [_Knocks. _
_Ver. _ [_Within. _] Who's there?
_Sir Dav. _ Who's there! open the door, you whelp of Babylon.
_Ver. _ Oh, sir! you're welcome home; but here is the saddest
news! here has been murder committed, sir.
_Sir Dav. _ Hold your tongue, you fool, and go to sleep; get you
in, do you hear? you talk of murder, you rogue? you meddle with
state affairs? get you in. [_Exit. _
SCENE III. --_The Entrance Hall in the same. _
Sir JOLLY JUMBLE _and_ Lady DUNCE _discovered putting_
BEAUGARD _in order, as if he were dead_.
_Sir Jol. _ Lie still, lie still, you knave, close, close, when
I bid you: you had best quest,[46] and spoil the sport, you had!
_Beau. _ But pray how long must I lie thus?
_L. Dunce. _ I'll warrant you you'll think the time mighty
tedious.
_Beau. _ Sweet creature, who can counterfeit death when you are
near him?
_Sir Jol. _ You shall, sirrah, if a body desires you a little,
so you shall; we shall spoil all else, all will be spoiled
else, man, if you do not: stretch out longer, longer yet, as
long as ever you can. So, so, hold your breath, hold your
breath; very well.
_Enter_ Maid.
_Maid. _ Madam, here comes Sir Davy.
_Sir Jol. _ Odds so, now close again as I told you, close, you
devil; now stir if you dare; stir but any part about you if you
dare now; odd, I'll hit you such a rap if you do! Lie still,
lie you still.
_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.
_Sir Dav. _ My dear, how dost thou do, my dear? I am come.
_L. Dunce. _ Ah, sir, what is't you've done? you've ruined me;
your family, your fortune, all is ruined; where shall we go, or
whither shall we fly?
_Sir Dav. _ Where shall we go! why, we'll go to bed, you little
jackadandy: why, you are not a wench, you rogue, you are a boy,
a very boy, and I love you the better for't: sirrah, hey!
_L. Dunce. _ Ah, sir, see there.
_Sir Dav. _ Bless us! a man! and bloody! what, upon my
hall-table!
_L. Dunce. _ Two ruffians brought him in just now, pronouncing
the inhuman deed was done by your command: Sir Jolly came in
the same minute, or sure I had died with my distracting fears.
How could you think on a revenge so horrid?
_Sir Dav. _ As I hope to be saved, neighbour, I only bargained
with them to bastinado him in a way, or so, as one friend might
do to another: but do you say that he is dead?
_Sir Jol. _ Dead, dead as clay; stark stiff and useless all,
nothing about him stirring, but all's cold and still. I knew
him a lusty fellow once, a very mettled fellow; 'tis a thousand
pities!
_Sir Dav. _ What shall I do? I'll throw myself upon him, kiss
his wide wounds, and weep till blind as buzzard.
_L. Dunce.
_ Oh, come not near him; there's such horrid
antipathy follows all murders, his wounds would stream afresh
should you but touch him. [47]
_Sir Dav. _ Dear neighbour, dearest neighbour, friend, Sir
Jolly, as you love charity, pity my wretched case, and give me
counsel; I'll give my wife and all my estate to have him live
again; or shall I bury him in the arbour, at the upper end of
the garden?
_Sir Jol. _ Alas-a-day, neighbour, never think on't, never think
on't; the dogs will find him there, as they scrape holes to
bury bones in; there is but one way that I know of.
_Sir Dav. _ What is it, dear neighbour, what is it? You see I am
upon my knees to you; take all I have and ease me of my fears.
_Sir Jol. _ Truly the best thing that I can think of is putting
of him to bed, putting him into a warm bed, and try to fetch
him to life again; a warm bed is the best thing in the world.
My lady may do much too, she's a good woman, and, as I've been
told, understands a green wound well.
_Sir Dav. _ My dear, my dear, my dear!
_L. Dunce. _ Bear me away! oh, send me hence far off, where my
unhappy name may be a stranger, and this sad accident no more
remembered to my dishonour!
_Sir Dav. _ Ah, but my love! my joy! are there no bowels in thee?
_L. Dunce. _ What would you have me do?
_Sir Dav. _ Pr'ythee do so much as try thy skill; there may be
one dram of life left in him yet. Take him up to thy chamber,
put him into thy own bed, and try what thou canst do with him;
pr'ythee do: if thou canst but find motion in him, all may be
well yet. I'll go up to my closet in the garret, and say my
prayers in the mean while.
_L. Dunce. _ Will ye then leave this ruin on my hands?
_Sir Dav. _ Pray, pray, my dear; I beseech you, neighbour, help
to persuade her if it be possible.
_Sir Jol. _ Faith, madam, do, try what you can do. I have a
great fancy you may do him good; who can tell but you may have
the gift of stroking? Pray, madam, be persuaded.
_L. Dunce. _ I'll do whate'er's your pleasure.
_Sir Dav. _ That's my best dear: I'll go to my closet and pray
for thee heartily. Alas, alas, that ever this should happen!
[_Exit. _
_Beau. _ So, is he gone, madam, my angel?
_Sir Jol. _ What, no thanks, no reward for old Jolly now?
Come hither, hussy, you little canary-bird, you little
hop-o'-my-thumb, come hither: make me a curtsey, and give me a
kiss now, ha! give me a kiss, I say; odd, I will have a kiss,
so I will, I will have a kiss if I set on't. Shoogh, shoogh,
shoogh, get you into a corner when I bid you, shoogh, shoogh,
shoogh--what, there already? [_She goes to_ BEAUGARD. ] Well, I
ha' done, I ha' done; this 'tis to be an old fellow now.
_Beau. _ And will you save the life of him you've wounded?
_L. Dunce. _ Dare you trust yourself to my skill for a cure?
[Sir DAVY _appears at a window above_.
_Sir Jol. _ Hist! hist! Close, close, I say again; yonder's Sir
Davy, odds so!
_Sir Dav. _ My dear! my dear! my dear!
_L. Dunce. _ Who's that calls? my love, is't you?
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, some comfort or my heart's broke! are there any
hopes yet? I've tried to say my prayers, and cannot: if he be
quite dead, I shall never pray again! Neighbour, no hopes?
_Sir Jol. _ Truly little or none; some small pulse I think there
is left, very little: there's nothing to be done if you don't
pray: get you to prayers whatever you do. Get you gone; nay,
don't stay now, shut the window, I tell you.
_Sir Dav. _ Well, this is a great trouble to me; but good-night.
[_Retires. _
_Sir Jol. _ Good-night to you, dear neighbour. --Get ye up, get
ye up, and begone into the next room presently, make haste.
[_To_ BEAUGARD _and_ Lady DUNCE. ] But don't steal away till
I come to you; be sure ye remember, don't ye stir till I
come--pish, none of this bowing and fooling, it but loses time;
I'll only bolt the door that belongs to Sir Davy's lodgings,
that he may be safe, and be with you in a twinkle. Ah--so, now
for the door; very well, friend, you are fast.
[_Bolts the door and sings. _
Bonny lass, gan thoo wert mine,
And twonty thoosand poonds aboot thee, &c. [_Exeunt. _
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[41] Louis XIV.
[42] Take it off.
[43] This probably refers to the supposed murder, in 1678, of Sir
Edmundsbury Godfrey, the magistrate before whom Titus Oates made
his incredible depositions concerning the alleged Popish plot. Many
believed it was a case of suicide. He was found pierced through with
his own sword on Primrose Hill. But the infamous Bedloe, a convicted
felon, and accomplice of Titus Oates, accused Queen Catharine's
Catholic servants of murdering Godfrey in Somerset House, where the
queen then resided, and so struck at the queen herself. Oates and he
afterwards accused her of conspiring to murder the king. But Charles
was not so mad and bad as to believe them. Godfrey had warned one of
the denounced persons, Coleman, and the murder, if it was one, is now
generally attributed to the Ultra-Protestant faction. At any rate,
they used the incident to inflame the public mind against the Roman
Catholics.
[44] Algiers.
[45] _i. e. _ Drink to him.
[46] Sporting dogs used to be called "questing hounds" (see Malory, for
instance), and a hound may run forward in pursuit at the wrong moment.
This is evidently the allusion here.
[47] An allusion to the common superstition that if the murderer
touched the dead body the wounds would commence to bleed afresh.
ACT THE FIFTH.
SCENE I. --SYLVIA'S _Chamber_.
COURTINE _discovered bound on a couch_.
_Cour. _ Heigho! heigho! Ha! where am I? Was I drunk or no,
last night? Something leaning that way. But where the devil am
I? sincerely in a bawdy-house: faugh! what a smell of sin is
here! Let me look about; if there be ever a Geneva Bible or
a _Practice of Piety_ in the room, I am sure I have guessed
right. What's the matter now? tied fast! bound too! What tricks
have I played to come into this condition? I have lighted into
the territories of some merrily-disposed chambermaid or other;
and she in a witty fit, forsooth, hath trussed me up thus: has
she pinned no rags to my tail, or chalked me upon the back,
trow? Would I had her mistress here at a venture!
_Enter_ SYLVIA _and_ Maid.
_Sylv. _ What would you do with her, my enchanted knight, if you
had her? you are too sober for her by this time: next time you
get drunk, you may perhaps venture to scale her balcony like a
valiant captain as you are.
_Cour. _ Hast thou done this, my dear destruction? and am I in
thy limbo? I must confess, when I am in my beer, my courage
does run away with me now and then; but let me loose, and thou
shalt see what a gentle humble animal thou hast made me. Fie
upon't! what, tie me up like an ungovernable cur to the frame
of a table! let, let thy poor dog loose, that he may fawn and
make much of thee a little.
_Sylv. _ What, with those paws which you have been ferreting
Moor-fields withal, and are very dirty still? After you have
been daggling[48] yourself abroad for prey, and can meet with
none, you come sneaking hither for a crust, do you?
_Maid. _ Shall I fetch the whip and the bell, madam, and slash
him for his roguery soundly?
_Cour. _ Indeed, indeed! Do you long to be ferking[49] of man's
flesh, madam flea-trap? Does the chaplain of the family use you
to the exercise, that you are so ready for it?
_Sylv. _ If you should be let loose, and taken into favour now,
you would be for rambling again so soon as you had got your
liberty.
_Cour. _ Do but try me, and if ever I prove recreant more, let
me be beaten and used like a dog in good earnest.
_Sylv. _ Promise to grant me but one request, and it shall be
done.
_Cour. _ Hear me but swear.
_Sylv. _ That anybody may do ten thousand times a-day.
_Cour. _ Upon the word of a gentleman; nay, as I hope to get
money in pocket.
_Sylv. _ There I believe him, lelely. [50] You'll keep your word,
you say?
_Cour. _ If I don't, hang me up in that wench's old garters.
_Sylv. _ See, sir, you have your freedom. [_Unbinds him. _
_Cour. _ Well, now name the price; what I must pay for't?
_Sylv. _ You know, sir, considering our small acquaintance, you
have been pleased to talk to me very freely of love-matters.
_Cour. _ I must confess, I have been something to blame that
way; but if ever thou hearest more of it from my mouth after
this night's adventure--would I were well out of the house!
_Sylv. _ Have a care of swearing, I beseech you; for you must
understand that, spite of my teeth, I am at last fallen in love
most unmercifully.
_Cour. _ And dost thou imagine I am so hard-hearted a villain as
to have no compassion of thee?
_Sylv. _ No, for I hope he's a man you can have no exceptions
against.
_Cour. _ Yes, yes, the man is a man, I'll assure you, that's one
comfort.
_Sylv. _ Who do you think it may be now? try if you can guess
him.
_Cour. _ Whoever he is, he's an honest fellow, I'll warrant him,
and I believe will not think himself very unhappy neither.
_Sylv. _ If a fortune of five thousand pounds, pleasant nights,
and quiet days, can make him happy, I assure you he may be so;
but try once to guess at him.
_Cour. _ But if I should be mistaken?
_Sylv. _ Why, who is it you would wish me to?
_Cour. _ You have five thousand pound, you say?
_Sylv. _ Yes.
_Cour. _ Faith, child, to deal honestly, I know well enough
who 'tis I wish for; but, sweetheart, before I tell you my
inclinations, it were but reasonable that I knew yours.
_Sylv.
