_ But will
patience
feed me, or clothe me, or keep me
clean?
clean?
Thomas Otway
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! let me look. [_Reads. _]
"Light brown hair, her face oval, and nose Roman, quick
sparkling eyes, plump, pregnant, ruby lips, with a mole on her
breast, and the perfect likeness of a heart-cherry on her left
knee. " Ah, villain! ah, sly-cap! have I caught you? are you
there, i'faith? well, and what says she? Is she coming? do her
eyes betray her? does her heart beat, and her bubbies rise,
when you talk to her, ha?
_Beau. _ Look you, Sir Jolly, all things considered, it may make
a shift to come to a marriage in time.
_Sir Jol. _ I'll have nothing to do in it; I won't be seen in
the business of matrimony. Make me a match-maker, a filthy
marriage-broker! sir, I scorn it, I know better things. Look
you, friend, to carry her a letter from you or so, upon good
terms, though it be in a church, I'll deliver it; or when the
business is come to an issue, if I may bring you handsomely
together, and so forth, I'll serve thee with all my soul, and
thank thee into the bargain; thank thee heartily, dear rogue; I
will, you little cock-sparrow, faith and troth, I will: but no
matrimony, friend, I'll have nothing to do with matrimony; 'tis
a damned invention, worse than a monopoly, and a destroyer of
civil correspondence.
_Re-enter_ Drawer.
_Draw. _ Gentlemen, your room is ready, your wine and ice upon
the table; will your honours please to walk in?
_Sir Jol. _ Ay, wine, wine, give us wine! a pox on
matrimony--matrimony, in the devil's name!
_Cour. _ But if an honest harlot or two chance to inquire for
us, friend--
_Sir Jol. _ Right, sirrah, if whores come never so many, give
'em reverence and reception, but nothing else; let nothing but
whores and bottles come near us, as you tender your ears.
[_A door is opened, discovering a table, with bottles, &c. _
_Beau. _ Why, there's, there's the land of Canaan now in little.
Hark you, drawer, dog, shut, shut the door, sirrah, do you
hear? Shut it so close that neither cares nor necessities may
peep in upon us.
[_Exeunt_ BEAUGARD, COURTINE, _and_ Sir JOLLY.
_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE, FOURBIN, _and_ BLOODY-BONES.
_Four. _ Bloody-Bones, be sure to behave yourself handsomely,
and like your profession; show yourself a cut-throat of parts,
and we'll fleece him.
_Bloody-B. _ My lady says, we must be expeditious; Sir Jolly has
given notice to the captain by this time, so that nothing is
wanting but the management of this over-grown gull to make us
hectors at large, and keep the whore Fortune under.
_Draw. _ Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome, sir; will't please
you to walk into a room? Or shall I wait upon your honour's
pleasure here?
_Sir Dav. _ Sweetheart, let us be quiet, and bring us wine
hither. [_Exit_ Drawer, _who returns with wine_. ] So--[_sits
down_]--from this moment, war, war, and mortal dudgeon against
that enemy of my honour, and thief of my good name, called
Beaugard. You can cut a throat upon occasion you say, friend?
_Four. _ Sir, cutting of throats is my hereditary vocation; my
father was hanged for cutting of throats before me, and my
mother for cutting of purses.
_Sir Dav. _ No more to be said; my courage is mounted like a
little Frenchman upon a great horse, and I'll have him murdered.
_Four. _ Sir! murdered you say, sir?
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, murdered I say, sir; his face flayed off, and
nailed to a post in my great hall in the country, amongst all
the other trophies of wild beasts slain by our family since the
Conquest; there's never a whore-master's head there yet.
_Four. _ Sir, for that let me recommend this worthy friend of
mine to your service; he's an industrious gentleman, and one
that will deserve your favour.
_Sir Dav. _ He looks but something ruggedly, though, methinks.
_Four. _ But, sir, his parts will atone for his person; forms
and fashions are the least of his study: he affects a sort of
philosophical negligence indeed; but, sir, make trial of him,
and you'll find him a person fit for the work of this world.
_Sir Dav. _ What trade are you, friend?
_Bloody-B. _ No trade at all, friend; I profess murder; rascally
butchers make a trade on't; 'tis a gentleman's divertisement.
_Sir Dav. _ Do you profess murder?
_Bloody-B. _ Yes, sir, 'tis my livelihood: I keep a wife and six
children by it.
_Sir Dav. _ Then, sir, here's to you with all my heart. Would I
had done with these fellows! [_Aside. _
_Four. _ Well, sir, if you have any service for us, I desire
we may receive your gold and your instructions as soon as is
possible.
_Sir Dav. _ Soft and fair, sweetheart; I love to see a little
how I lay out my money. Have you very good trading now-a-days
in your way, friend?
_Bloody-B. _ In peaceable times a man may eat and drink
comfortably upon't: a private murder done handsomely is worth
money; but now that the nation's unsettled, there are so many
general undertakers, that 'tis grown almost a monopoly; you may
have a man murdered almost for little or nothing, and nobody
e'er know who did it neither. [43]
_Sir Dav. _ Pray what countryman are you? where were you born,
most noble sir?
_Bloody-B. _ Indeed, my country is foreign. I was born in
Argier[44]; my mother was an apostate Greek, my father a
renegado Englishman, who by oppressing of Christian slaves grew
rich; for which, when he lay sick, I murdered him one day in
his bed; made my escape to Malta, where, embracing the faith, I
had the honour given me to command a thousand horse aboard the
galleys of that state.
_Sir Dav. _ O Lord, sir! my humble service to you again.
_Four.
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! let me look. [_Reads. _]
"Light brown hair, her face oval, and nose Roman, quick
sparkling eyes, plump, pregnant, ruby lips, with a mole on her
breast, and the perfect likeness of a heart-cherry on her left
knee. " Ah, villain! ah, sly-cap! have I caught you? are you
there, i'faith? well, and what says she? Is she coming? do her
eyes betray her? does her heart beat, and her bubbies rise,
when you talk to her, ha?
_Beau. _ Look you, Sir Jolly, all things considered, it may make
a shift to come to a marriage in time.
_Sir Jol. _ I'll have nothing to do in it; I won't be seen in
the business of matrimony. Make me a match-maker, a filthy
marriage-broker! sir, I scorn it, I know better things. Look
you, friend, to carry her a letter from you or so, upon good
terms, though it be in a church, I'll deliver it; or when the
business is come to an issue, if I may bring you handsomely
together, and so forth, I'll serve thee with all my soul, and
thank thee into the bargain; thank thee heartily, dear rogue; I
will, you little cock-sparrow, faith and troth, I will: but no
matrimony, friend, I'll have nothing to do with matrimony; 'tis
a damned invention, worse than a monopoly, and a destroyer of
civil correspondence.
_Re-enter_ Drawer.
_Draw. _ Gentlemen, your room is ready, your wine and ice upon
the table; will your honours please to walk in?
_Sir Jol. _ Ay, wine, wine, give us wine! a pox on
matrimony--matrimony, in the devil's name!
_Cour. _ But if an honest harlot or two chance to inquire for
us, friend--
_Sir Jol. _ Right, sirrah, if whores come never so many, give
'em reverence and reception, but nothing else; let nothing but
whores and bottles come near us, as you tender your ears.
[_A door is opened, discovering a table, with bottles, &c. _
_Beau. _ Why, there's, there's the land of Canaan now in little.
Hark you, drawer, dog, shut, shut the door, sirrah, do you
hear? Shut it so close that neither cares nor necessities may
peep in upon us.
[_Exeunt_ BEAUGARD, COURTINE, _and_ Sir JOLLY.
_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE, FOURBIN, _and_ BLOODY-BONES.
_Four. _ Bloody-Bones, be sure to behave yourself handsomely,
and like your profession; show yourself a cut-throat of parts,
and we'll fleece him.
_Bloody-B. _ My lady says, we must be expeditious; Sir Jolly has
given notice to the captain by this time, so that nothing is
wanting but the management of this over-grown gull to make us
hectors at large, and keep the whore Fortune under.
_Draw. _ Welcome, gentlemen, very welcome, sir; will't please
you to walk into a room? Or shall I wait upon your honour's
pleasure here?
_Sir Dav. _ Sweetheart, let us be quiet, and bring us wine
hither. [_Exit_ Drawer, _who returns with wine_. ] So--[_sits
down_]--from this moment, war, war, and mortal dudgeon against
that enemy of my honour, and thief of my good name, called
Beaugard. You can cut a throat upon occasion you say, friend?
_Four. _ Sir, cutting of throats is my hereditary vocation; my
father was hanged for cutting of throats before me, and my
mother for cutting of purses.
_Sir Dav. _ No more to be said; my courage is mounted like a
little Frenchman upon a great horse, and I'll have him murdered.
_Four. _ Sir! murdered you say, sir?
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, murdered I say, sir; his face flayed off, and
nailed to a post in my great hall in the country, amongst all
the other trophies of wild beasts slain by our family since the
Conquest; there's never a whore-master's head there yet.
_Four. _ Sir, for that let me recommend this worthy friend of
mine to your service; he's an industrious gentleman, and one
that will deserve your favour.
_Sir Dav. _ He looks but something ruggedly, though, methinks.
_Four. _ But, sir, his parts will atone for his person; forms
and fashions are the least of his study: he affects a sort of
philosophical negligence indeed; but, sir, make trial of him,
and you'll find him a person fit for the work of this world.
_Sir Dav. _ What trade are you, friend?
_Bloody-B. _ No trade at all, friend; I profess murder; rascally
butchers make a trade on't; 'tis a gentleman's divertisement.
_Sir Dav. _ Do you profess murder?
_Bloody-B. _ Yes, sir, 'tis my livelihood: I keep a wife and six
children by it.
_Sir Dav. _ Then, sir, here's to you with all my heart. Would I
had done with these fellows! [_Aside. _
_Four. _ Well, sir, if you have any service for us, I desire
we may receive your gold and your instructions as soon as is
possible.
_Sir Dav. _ Soft and fair, sweetheart; I love to see a little
how I lay out my money. Have you very good trading now-a-days
in your way, friend?
_Bloody-B. _ In peaceable times a man may eat and drink
comfortably upon't: a private murder done handsomely is worth
money; but now that the nation's unsettled, there are so many
general undertakers, that 'tis grown almost a monopoly; you may
have a man murdered almost for little or nothing, and nobody
e'er know who did it neither. [43]
_Sir Dav. _ Pray what countryman are you? where were you born,
most noble sir?
_Bloody-B. _ Indeed, my country is foreign. I was born in
Argier[44]; my mother was an apostate Greek, my father a
renegado Englishman, who by oppressing of Christian slaves grew
rich; for which, when he lay sick, I murdered him one day in
his bed; made my escape to Malta, where, embracing the faith, I
had the honour given me to command a thousand horse aboard the
galleys of that state.
_Sir Dav. _ O Lord, sir! my humble service to you again.
_Four.
