Sir Greg. I'll have another Lady, Sir, if there were no more Ladies in London, blind-man buff is an unlawful Game.
Cun. Come, down on your knees first, and thank your Stars.
Sir Greg. A fire of my stars, I may thank you, I think.
That have preserv'd you from a lasting torment,
For a perpetual comfort; Did you call me friend?
Abuse it in the act? Should I see my friend
Bafled, disgrac'd, without any reverence
To your title, to be call'd slave, rascal?
Nay curst to your face, fool'd, scorn'd, beaten down
With a womans peevish hate, yet I should stand
And suffer you to be lost, cast away?
I would have seen you buried quick first,
Your spurs of Knighthood to have wanted rowels,
And to be kickt from your heels; slave, rascall?
Hear this Tongue?
In all the duties of a loyal Wife?
Your head were broke with the handle of a fan,
Or your nose bor'd with a silver bodkin?
This contract shall be a nullity, I'll break't off,
And see you better bestow'd.
Sir Greg. 'Slid, but you shall not, Sir, she's mine own, and I am hers, and we are one anothers lawfully, and let me see him that will take her away by the Civil Law: if you be my friend, keep you so, if you have done me a good turn, do not hit me i'th' teeth with't, that's not the part of a friend.
I'll not change her for both the Exchanges, New or the Old;
Come, kiss me boldly.
Sir Greg. Oh Sir, I thank you as much as though I did, you are belov'd of Ladies, you see we are glad of under-women.
Clow. Ladies? let not Ladies be disgrac'd, you are as it were a Married Man, and have a family, and for the parties sake that was unnam'd before, being Pese-cod time, I am appeas'd, yet I would wish you make a Ruler of your Tongue.
And this (friend) I entreat you, and be advis'd,
Let this private contract be yet conceal'd,
And still support a seeming face of love
Unto the Lady; mark how it availes you,
And quits all her scorns, her Unckle is now hot
In pursuit of the match, and will enforce her,
Bend her proud stomach, that she shall proffer
Her self to you, which when you have flouted,
And laught your fill at, you shall scorn her off,
With all your disgraces trebled upon her,
For there the pride of all her heart will bow,
When you shall foot her from you, not she you.
Sir Greg. Good I'faith; I'll continue it, I'd fain laugh at the old fellow too, for he has abus'd me as scurvily as his Neece, my Knight-hood's upon the spur, we'll go to Bed, and then to Church as fast as we can.
[Exit Sir Greg, and Mirab.
Clow. I do wonder I do not hear of the Lady yet.
Cun. The good minute may come sooner than you are aware of, I do not think but 'twill e'r night yet, as near as 'tis.
Clow. Well, I will go walk by the New River, in that meditation, I am o'er shooes, I'm sure upon the drie bank, this gullery of my Master will keep me company this two hours too, if love were not an enemy to laughter, I should drive away the time well enough; you know my walk, Sir, if she sends, I shall be found angling, for I will try what I can catch for luck sake, I will fish fair for't,
Oh Knight, that thou shouldst be gull'd so; ha, ha, it does me good at heart,
But oh Lady, thou tak'st down my merry part. [Exit.
Enter Witty-pate.
The woman has conquer'd the women, they are gone,
Which I have already complain'd to my Father,
Suggesting that Sir Gregory is fall'n off
From his charge, for neglects and ill usage,
And that he is most violently bent
On Gentries wife (whom I have call'd a widow)
And that without most sudden prevention
He will be married to her.
This wings his pursuit, and will be before me; I am lost for ever.
But with my Father, on my wit let it lie,
You shall appear a friendly assistant,
To help in all affairs, and in execution
Help your self only.
And my wit shall be your slave, if it deceive you.
Enter Old Knight.
Old K. Oh Sir, you are well met, where's the Knight your friend?
Cun. Sir, I think your Son has told you.
But not my Kinswoman, her base usage,
And your slack performance which he accuses most
Indeed, has turn'd the Knights heart upside down.
He shall have her, and she shall be dutiful,
And love him as a Wife too.
I dare recall him [were] he enter'd the Church,
So much interest of love I assure in him.
Be wanting at the recovery, if it should be agen?
Of the thousands in her Dower, but were they married once,
I'd cut him short enough, that's my agreement.
Witty. To him? oh fie upon your error, she has another object, believe it, Sir.
Old K. I never could perceive it.
To my own sorrow I saw it, dalliance,
Nay, dotage with a very Clown, a Fool.
She love a fool? she'll sooner make a Fool
Of a wise man.
Sir Gregory says flatly, she makes a fool of him,
And these bold circumstances are approv'd:
Favours have been sent by him, yet he ignorant
Whither to carry 'em; they have been understood,
And taken from him, certain, Sir, there is
An unsuspected fellow lies conceal'd,
What, or where e'er he is, these slight neglects
Could not be of a Knight else.
Unmarried) to salve all these old bruises?
behind all your purposes?
Why, Father are you broke? your wit beggar'd,
Or are you at your wits end? or out of
Love with wit? no trick of wit to surprize
Those designs, but with open Hue and Cry,
For all the world to talk on, this is strange,
You were not wont to slubber a project so.
My Son, go too, I leave this to your wit,
Because I'll make a proof on't.
I have had late intelligence, they are now
Bucksom as Bacchus Froes, revelling, dancing,
Telling the Musicks numbers with their feet,
Awaiting the meeting of p[re]monish'd friends,
That's questionless, little dreading you,
Now Sir, with a dexterous trick indeed, suddain
And sufficient were well, to enter on um
As something like the abstract of a Masque;
What though few persons? if best for our purpose
That commends the project.
With loose disguises that shall fit that Scene.
What e'er it cost.
Now on, I like it, there will be wit in't Father.
[Exit Old K. and Witty.
Yet if his Master brain should be o'er-thrown
My resolution now shall seize mine own. [Exit.
Enter Neece, Lady Ruinous, Guardianess, Ruinous, Priscian, (with instruments masqu'd.)
Give us her airy welcome, 'twill be the best
I fear this ruin'd receptacle will yield,
But that most freely.
Else I am ill, come hither, you assure me
Still Mr. Cuningame will be here, and that it was
His kind entreaty that wish'd me meet him.
That all belief may flie um.
The Knights name unto my Guardianess,
She expects no other.
Lady, Sir Gregory will be here, and suddainly
This Musick fore-ran him, is't not so consorts?
Such a labour he was busie in, some witty device.
Labour to him.
Into the fools pair-of-Dice, with Dewze Ace,
He that would make me Mistriss Cun, Cun, Cunnie,
He's quite out of my mind, but I shall ne'er
Forget him, while I have a hole in my head;
Such a one I think would please you better,
Though he did abuse you.
Your Neece has quitted him.
Else she loses me for ever; but for Sir Gregory.
Would he were come, I shall ill answer this
Unto your Uncle else.
I should keep him company.
If you did well too: Lord, I do wonder
At the niceness of you Ladies now a days,
They must have Husbands with so much wit forsooth.
Worship and wealth were both wont to be
In better request I'm sure, I cannot tell,
But they get ne'er the wiser children that I see.
Methinks 'tis dull to let it move alone,
Let's have a female motion, 'tis in private,
And we'll grace't our selves, however it deserves.
My jaunting days are done.
She shall pay the Musick.
[They Dance, a Cornet is winded.
This was the warning-piece of his approach.
Enter Old Knight, Witty-pate, Cunningame, Masqu'd, and take them to Dance.
We shall need no counsel-keeping.
No Masque can disguise his tongue.
You must go with me.
[Exit Cun. Nee. Guard.
Son, where are they?
Ha! why Witty-pate, Son, where am I?
Is your health miscarried since? what ail you, Sir?
What are you?
No more, I thank you; what have I done to
To bring these fears about me? Son, where am I?
For your Musick, and you are in a maze.
Here's a crown for you.
Has made a Consort laugh heartily.
To tell you truth, these are no ordinary
Musicians, they expect a bounty
Above their punctual desert.
Am I not cheated all this while think you?
Is not your pate in this?
You are not to be indicted for your own goods,
Here you trifle time to market your bounty
And make it base, when it must needs be free
For ought I can perceive.
Home agen for fear, I am absolutely beguil'd,
That's the best can be hop'd for.
I got fifty bated, and faith Father, to say truth,
'Tis reasonable for men of their fashion.
You are a Consort of Thieves, are you not?
For your money, nay and that you cannot give back,
'Tis somewhat dear I confess, but who can help it?
If they had been agreed with before-hand,
'Twas ill forgotten.
Case up your instruments, I yield, here, as robb'd and
Taken from me, I deliver it.
Which was, to pay the charge of Musick, that's all.
There's none to be found in me, nor about me.
And he that dances, acknowledges a receipt of Musick.
Musick, do you see, Sir? and I can sing without it too; you
are a Consort of Thieves, do you hear what I do?
Musick agen, it may cost you as much more.
farewel, I think now, so long as that hundred [pound] lasts
with you.
Enter Guardianess.
damnable dear.
to tell you the tale, I care not, your Neece my charge is—
is there any more?
that's likely to recover me, she's Lady Fop now, and I am One
of her Aunts, I thank my promotion.
Enter Credulous, Cuningam, Neece, Sir Gregory, and Mirabel.
If you can excuse your self for making him
A Priest, there's the most difficult answer.
I put this practise on him, as from your desire,
A truth, a truth, Father.
Cred. I protest, Sir, he tells you truth, he mov'd me to't in your nam[e].
Old K. I protest, Sir, he told you a lye in my name, and were you so easie, Mr. Credulous, to believe him?
Cred. If a man should not believe his Cosin, Sir, whom should he believe?
And your fair Bride, my Cosin Cuningam too,
And how do you Sir Gregory, with your fair Lady?
Sir Greg. A little better than you would have had me, I thank you Sir, the days of Puppy, and Slave, and Rascal, are pretty well blown over now, I know Crabs from Verjuyce, I have tryed both, and thou'dst give me thy Neece for nothing, I'd not have her.
Cun. I think so Sir Gregory, for my sake you would not.
Sir Gr. I wou'd thou hadst scap'd her too, and then she had died of the Green sickness: know this, that I did marry in spight, and I will kiss my Lady in spight, and love her in spight, and beget children of her in spight, and when I dye, they shall have my Lands in spight; this was my resolution, and now 'tis out.
Why look you, I can love my dearest Husband,
With all the honors, duties, sweet embraces,
That can be thrown upon a loving man.
Sir Gr.——This is afore your Uncles face, but behind his back, in private, you'll shew him another tale—
Cun. You see, Sir, now the irrecoverable state of all these things before you: come out of your muse, they have been but Wit-weapons, you were wont to love the Play.
Enter Clown.
Old K. Let me alone in my muse a little, Sir, I will wake to you anon.
Cun. U'd so, your friend Pompey, how will you answer him?
Nee. Very well, if you'll but second it, and help me.
Clow. I do hear strange stories, are Ladies things obnoxious?
Nee. Oh, the dissembling falsest wretch is come.
Cun. How now Lady?
Let me have revenge.
be guilty or no.
How many Messengers (thou perjur'd man)
Hast thou return'd with Vows and Oaths, that thou
Wouldst follow, and never till this unhappy hour
Could I set eye of thee, since thy false eye
Drew my heart to it? oh I could tear thee now,
Instead of soft embraces, pray give me leave—
Witty. Faith this was ill done of you Sir, if you promis'd otherwise.
Clow. By this hand, never any Messenger came at me, since the first time I came into her company; that a man should be wrong'd thus!
And thou return'dst me Letters, one with a false heart in't.
Witty. Oh fie, to receive favours, return falshoods, and hold a Lady in hand—
Clow. Will you believe me, Sir? if ever I receiv'd Diamonds, or Scarf, or sent any Letter to her, would this sword might ne'er go through me.
Witty. Some bad Messengers have gone between you then.
Nee. Take him from my sight if I shall see to morrow.
Witty. Pray you forbear the place, this discontent may impair her health much.
Clow. 'Foot, if a man had been in any fault, 'twould ne'er a griev'd him, Sir, if you'll believe.
But you see how the Lady is wrong'd by't;
She has cast away her self, it is to be fear'd,
Against her Uncles Will, nay, any consent,
But out of a mere neglect, and spight to her self,
Married suddainly without any advice.
Clow. Why, who can help it? if she be cast away, she may thank her self, she might have gone farther and far'd worse; I could do no more than I could do: 'twas her own pleasure to command me, that I should not come, till I was sent for, I had been with her every minute of an hour else.
Witty. Truly I believe you.
Clow. Night and day she might have commanded me, and that she knew well enough; I said as much to her between her and I; yet I protest, she's as honest a Lady for my part, that I'd say, if she would see me hang'd: if she be cast away I cannot help it, she might have stay'd to have spoke with a man.
Witty. Well, 'twas a hard miss on both parts.
Clow. So 'twas, I was within one of her, for all this cross luck, I was sure I was between the Knight and home.
Nee. Not gone yet? oh my heart! none regard my health?
Witty. Good Sir, forbear her sight awhile, you hear how ill she brooks it.
Clow. Foolish woman, to overthrow her fortunes so; I shall think the worse of a Ladies wit, while I live for't—I could almost cry for anger, if she should miscarry now; 'twould touch my conscience a little, and who knows what love and conceit may do? what would people say, as I go along? there goes he that the Lady died for love on, I am sure to hear on't i'th' streets, I shall weep before hand; foolish woman, I do grieve more for thee now, than I did love thee before; well, go thy ways, wouldst thou spare thy Husbands head, and break thine own heart? if thou hadst any wit, I would some other had been the cause of thy undoing, I shall be twitted i'th' teeth with it, I'm sure of that, foolish Lady. [Exit.
Nee. So, so, this trouble's well shook off, Uncle, how d'ye? there's a Dowrie due, Sir.
And find your Uncle fully recover'd, kind to both of us.
Was your wit so raw?
Sir Gr. Yes faith, Sir, you have paid as dear for your time, as any man here.
Witty. I Sir, and I'll reckon it to him. Imprimis, The first preface cheat of a pair of pieces to the Beggars, you remember that I was the example to your bounty there, I spake Greek and Syriack, Sir, you understand me now. Next, the Robbery put upon your indulgent Cosin, which indeed was no Robbery, no Constable, no Justice, no Thief, but all Cheaters; there was a hunder'd Mark, mark you that: Lastly, this memorable 100 pounds worth of Musick, this was [but] cheats and wit too, and for the assistance of this Gentleman to my Cosin (for which I am to have a Fee) that was a little practice of my wit too, Father; will you come to composition yet, Father?
Cun. Yes faith Sir, do, two hundr'd a year will be easier than so much weekly, I do not think he's barren if he should be put to't agen.
And the next cheat makes it up three hundr'd;
Live thou upon thy ten pound Vicarage,
Thou get'st not a penny more, here's thy full
Hire now.
To shuve him out of your favour, which I fear'd
Would have disinherited me.
Had not thy wit recover'd it; is there any here
That had a hand with thee?
I'll repay it; wealth, love me as I love wit;
When I die,
I'll build an Alms-house for decay'd wits.
Sir Gr. I'll entertain one in my life time; Scholar, you shall be my Chaplain, I have the gift of twenty Benefices, simple as I am here.
Pris. Thanks my great Patron.
Cun. Sir your Gentry and your name shall both be rais'd as high as my fortunes can reach 'em, for your friends sake.
You shall share with me.
I have begg'd her for a Lady, that she might have been,
That's one for another.
Witty. Nay, but if she beg—
Sir Gr. Let her beg agen then.
Nee. That your man Pompey's Coat may come over his ears back agen, I would not he should be lost for my sake.
Sir Gr. Well, 'tis granted, for mine own sake.
Mirab. I'll intreat it Sir.
Sir Gr. Why then 'tis granted for your sake.
So it be purchas'd at an easie rate;
Some have receiv'd the knocks, some giv'n the hits,
And all concludes in love, there's happy wits. [Exeunt.
The Epilogue at the reviving of this Play.
The Wits have jumpt, or that the Scenes hit right
'Twould be but labor lost for to excuse
What Fletcher had to do in: his brisk Muse
Was so Mercurial, that if he but writ
An Act, or two, the whole Play rose up wit.
We'll not appeal unto those Gentlemen
Judge by their Cloaths, if they sit right, nor when
The Ladies smile, and with their Fanns delight
To whisk a clinch aside, then all goes right:
'Twas well receiv'd before, and we dare say,
You now are welcome to no vulgar Play.
The Fair Maid of the Inn.
A TRAGI-COMEDY.
The Persons represented in the Play.
- Duke of Florence.
- Cesario, a young Gentleman of a fiery nature, Son to Alberto,
- Albertus, Father to Cesario, Admiral of Florence.
- Baptista, a brave Sea-Commander, antient friend to Albertus, and Father to Mentivole and Biancha.
- Mentivole, Son to Baptista, Lover of Clarissa.
- Prospero, a noble friend to Baptista.
- Two Magistrates of Florence.
- Host, the supposed Father to Biancha.
- Forobosco, a cheating Mountebank.
- Clown, the Mountebanks man, and setter.
- Three Gentlemen.
- Secretary to the Duke.
- Dancer, } Four fools and knaves,
- Taylor, } who pretend love
- Mulitteer, } Biancha, the Fair
- Pedant, } Maid of the Inn.
- Sailors.
WOMEN.
- Mariana, Wife to Albertus, a virtuous Lady.
- Clarissa, Mariana's Daughter, in love with Mentivole.
- Juliana, Neece to the Duke of Genoa, Baptista's second wife.
- Biancha, the Fair Maid of the Inn, beloved of Cesario, and Daughter to Baptista and Juliana.
- Hostess, the supposed Mother of Biancha.