Sir B. A pox confine thee! come again, pooh!
Foot. Your worship will undo me, sir.
Sir B. Was there no speech of a long dining-room, a huge kitchen, large meat, and a broad dresser-board?
Foot. I have a greater maw to that indeed, an’t please your worship.
Sir B. Whom did he name?
Foot. Why, one sir Bounteous Progress.
Sir B. Ah, a, a! I am that sir Bounteous, you progressive round-about rascal.
Foot. Pooh! [Laughs.[760]
Sir B. I knew I should have him i’ th’ end: there’s not a lord will miss me, I thank their good honours; ’tis a fortune laid upon me; they can scent out their best entertainment. I have a kind of complimental gift given me above ordinary country knights; and how soon ’tis smelt out! I warrant ye, there’s not one knight i’ th’ shire able to entertain a lord i’ th’ cue, or a lady i’ th’ nick, like me;—like me! there’s a kind of grace belongs to’t, a kind of art which naturally slips from me; I know not on’t, I promise you, ’tis gone before I’m aware on’t—cuds me, I forget myself—where——
First S. Does your worship call?
Sir B. Run, sirrah! call in my chief gentleman i’ th’ chain of gold;[761] expedite. [Exit First Servant.]—And how does my good lord? I never saw him before in my life.—A cup of bastard[762] for this footman!
Foot. My lord has travelled this five year, sir.
Sir B. Travelled this five year? how many children has he?—Some bastard, I say!
Foot. No bastard, an’t please your worship.
Sir B. A cup of sack to strengthen his wit!—
The footman’s a fool.
O, come hither, master Gumwater, come hither: send presently to master Pheasant for one of his hens; there’s partridge i’ th’ house?
Gum. And wild-duck, an’t please your worship.
Sir B. And woodcock, an’t please thy worship.
Gum. And woodcock, an’t please your worship.—I had thought to have spoke before you.
Sir B. Remember the pheasant, down with some plover, clap down six woodcocks; my lord’s[763] coming: now, sir.
Gum. An’t please your worship, there’s a lord and his followers newly alighted.
Sir B. Despatch, I say, despatch: why, where’s my music? he’s come indeed. [Exit Gumwater.
Fol. Footman!
Foot. My lord?
Fol. Run swiftly with my commendations to sir Jasper Topaz: we’ll ride and visit him i’ th’ morning, say.
Foot. Your lordship’s charge shall be effected.
Sir B. Nay, and your lordship know my disposition, you know me better than they that know my person; your honour is so much the welcomer for that.
Fol. Thanks, good sir Bounteous.
Sir B. Pray, pardon me; it has been often my ambition, my lord, both in respect of your honourable presence, and the prodigal fame that keeps even stroke with your unbounded worthiness,
Fol. Heard of ’em, sir Bounteous, but never heard ’em.
Sir B. They’re but double-gilt, my lord; some hundred and fifty pound will fit your lordship with such another pair.[766]
Fol. Indeed, sir Bounteous!
Sir B. O, my lord, I have a present suit to you!
Fol. To me, sir Bounteous? and you could ne’er speak at fitter time, for I’m here present to grant you.
Sir B. Your lordship has been a traveller?
Fol. Some five year, sir.
Sir B. I have a grandchild, my lord; I love him; and when I die I’ll do somewhat for him: I’ll tell your honour the worst of him, a wild lad he has been.
Fol. So we have been all, sir.
Sir B. So we have been all indeed, my lord; I thank your lordship’s assistance. Some comic pranks he has been guilty of; but I’ll pawn my credit for him, an honest, trusty bosom.
Fol. And that’s worth all, sir.
Sir B. And that’s worth all indeed, my lord, for he’s like to have all when I die: imberbis juvenis, his chin has no more prickles yet than a midwife’s; there’s great hope of his wit, his hair’s so long a-coming. Shall I be bold with your honour, to prefer this aforesaid Ganymede to hold a plate under your lordship’s cup?
Fol. You wrong both his worth and your bounty, and[767] you call that boldness. Sir, I have heard much good of that young gentleman.
Sir B. Nay, has a good wit, i’faith, my lord.
Fol. Has carried himself always generously.
Sir B. Are you advised of that, my lord? has carried many things cleanly. I’ll shew your lordship my will; I keep it above in an outlandish box; the whoreson boy must have all: I love him, yet he shall ne’er find it as long as I live.
Fol. Well, sir, for your sake, and his own deserving, I’ll reserve a place for him nearest to my secrets.
Sir B. I understand your good lordship; you’ll make him your secretary.—My music! give my lord a taste of his welcome. [A strain played by the consort:[768] Sir Bounteous makes a courtly honour to Follywit, and seems to foot the tune.] So.—How like you our airs, my lord? are they choice?
Fol. They’re seldom matched, believe it.
Sir B. The consort of mine own household.
Fol. Yea, sir!
Sir B. The musicians are in ordinary, yet no ordinary musicians. Your lordship shall hear my organs now.
Fol. O, I beseech you, sir Bounteous!
Sir B. My organist! [The organs play, and servants with covered dishes pass over the stage.]—Come, my lord, how does your honour relish my organ[s]?
Fol. A very proud air, i’faith, sir.
Sir B. O, how can’t choose? a Walloon plays upon ’em, and a Welchman blows wind in their breech. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Sir B. You must pardon us, my lord, hasty cates; your honour has had even a hunting-meal on’t; and now I am like to bring your lordship to as mean a lodging; a hard down bed, i’faith, my lord, poor cambric sheets, and a cloth a’ tissue canopy; the curtains, indeed, were wrought in Venice, with the story of the Prodigal Child in silk and gold; only the swine are left out, my lord, for[771] spoiling the curtains.
Fol. ’Twas well prevented, sir.
Sir B. Silken rest, harmonious slumbers, and venereal dreams to your lordship!
Fol. The like to kind sir Bounteous!
Sir B. Fie, not to me, my lord; I’m old, past dreaming of such vanities.
Fol. Old men should dream best.
Sir B. They’re dreame[r]s indeed, my lord; you’ve gi’nt us. To-morrow your lordship shall see my cocks, my fish-ponds, my park, my champion[772] grounds; I keep champers[773] in my house can shew your lordship some pleasure.
Sir B. Once again, a musical night to your honour! I’ll trouble your lordship no more.
Fol. Good rest, sir Bounteous. [Exit Sir Bounteous.]—So, come, the vizards! where be the masking-suits?
Maw. In your lordship’s portmantua.
Fol. Peace, lieutenant.
Maw. I had rather have war, captain.
Maw. Nay, and[775] you be at your distinctions, captain, I’ll follow behind no longer.
Fol. Get you before, then, and whelm your nose with your vizard; go. [Exit Mawworm.
I’ll have the church hung round with a noble[778] a yard, or requite him in scutcheons: let him trap me in gold, and I’ll lap him in lead; quid pro quo. I must look none of his angels[779] in the face, forsooth, until his face be not worth looking on: tut, lads,
SCENE III.
Cour. Go, sirrah, run presently to master Penitent Brothel; you know his lodging; knock him up; I know he cannot sleep for sighing;
SCENE IV.
[Within] Oh!
Fol. Hark! they’re at their business.
[Within] Thieves, thieves!
Fol. Gag that gaping rascal! though he be my grandsire’s chief gentleman i’ th’ chain of gold,[780] I’ll have no pity of him.
How now, lads?
Maw. All’s sure and safe; on with your vizard, sir; the servants are all bound.
Fol. There’s one care past then: come, follow me, lads; I’ll lead you now to th’ point and top of all your fortunes: yon lodging is my grandsire’s.
Maw. So, so; lead on, on!
Hob. Here’s a captain worth the following, and a wit worth a man’s love and admiring! [Exeunt.[781]
SCENE V.
A Room opening into Sir Bounteous’s Bed-chamber, from which enter Follywit, Mawworm, Hoboy, and others, dragging in Sir Bounteous in his night-gown.
Sir B. O gentlemen, and[782] you be kind gentlemen, what countrymen are you?
Fol. Lincolnshire men, sir.
Sir B. I am glad of that, i’faith.
Fol. And why should you be glad of that?
Sir B. O, the honestest thieves of all come out of Lincolnshire, the kindest-natured gentlemen; they’ll rob a man with conscience; they have a feeling of what they go about, and will steal with tears in their eyes: ah, pitiful gentlemen!
Fol. Push,[783] money, money! we come for money.
Sir B. Is that all you come for? Ah, what a beast was I to put out my money t’other day! Alas, good gentlemen, what shift shall I make for you? pray, come again another time.
Fol. Tut, tut, sir, money!
Sir B. O not so loud, sir! you’re too shrill a gentleman: I have a lord lies in my house; I would not for the world his honour should be disquieted.
Fol. Who, my lord Owemuch? we have took order with him beforehand; he lies bound in his bed, and all his followers.
Sir B. Who, my lord? bound my lord? Alas, what did you mean to bind my lord? he could keep his bed well enough without binding. You’ve undone me in’t already, you need rob me no farther.
Fol. Which is the key? come!
Sir B. Ah, I perceive now you’re no true Lincolnshire spirits! you come rather out of Bedfordshire; we cannot lie quiet in our beds for you. So, take enough, my masters [they rifle his cabinets]: spur a free horse, my name’s sir Bounteous; a merry world, i’faith; what knight but I keep open house at midnight? Well, there should be a conscience, if one could hit upon’t.
Fol. Away now; seize upon him, bind him.
Sir B. Is this your court of equity? why should I be bound for mine own money? but come, come, bind me, I have need on’t; I have been too liberal to-night, keep in my hands [they bind him]: nay, as hard as you list; I am too good to bear my lord company. You have watched your time, my masters; I was knighted at Westminster, but many of these nights will make me a knight of Windsor.[784] You’ve deserved so well, my masters, I bid you all to dinner to-morrow: I would I might have your companies, i’faith; I desire no more.
Fol. O, ho, sir!
Sir B. Pray, meddle not with my organs, to put ’em out of tune.
Fol. O no, here’s better music, sir.
Sir B. Ah, pox feast you!
Fol. Despatch with him, away! [Exeunt Hoboy and others, carrying Sir Bounteous into the bed-chamber.]—So, thank you, good grandsire! This was bounteously done of him, i’faith: it came somewhat hard from him at first; for, indeed, nothing comes stiff from an old man but money; and he may well stand upon that, when he has nothing else to stand upon. Where’s our portmantua?
Maw. Here, bully captain.
Fol. In with the purchase,[785] ’twill lie safe enough there under ’s nose, I warrant you.—
What, is all sure?
Hob. All’s sure, captain.
Fol. You know what follows now, one villain binds his fellows; go, we must be all bound for our own securities, rascals. There’s no dallying upo’ th’ point; you conceit me: there is a lord to be found bound in the morning, and all his followers; can you pick out that lord now?
Maw. O admirable spirit!
Fol. You ne’er plot for your safeties, so your wants be satisfied.
Hob. But if we bind one another, how shall the last man be bound?
Fol. Pox on’t, I’ll have the footman ’scape.
Foot. That’s I; I thank you, sir.
Fol. The footman, of all other, will be supposed to ’scape, for he comes in no bed all night, but lies in ’s clothes, to be first ready i’ th’ morning; the horse and he lie[786] in litter together, that’s the right fashion of your bonny footman; and his freedom will make the better for our purpose, for we must have one i’ th’ morning to unbind the knight, that we may have our sport within ourselves. We now arrive at the most ticklish point, to rob, and take our ease, to be thieves, and lie by’t: look to’t, lads, it concerns every man’s gullet; I’ll not have the jest spoiled, that’s certain, though it hazard a windpipe. I’ll either go like a lord as I came, or be hanged like a thief as I am; and that’s my resolution.
Maw. Troth, a match, captain, of all hands!
SCENE VI.
Cour. O master Penitent Brothel!
Pen. B. What is’t, sweet lady Gullman, that so seizes on thee with rapture and admiration?
Cour. A thought, a trick, to make you, sir, especially happy, and yet I myself a saver by it.
Cour. I will give trust to you, sir. The cause, then, why I raised you from your bed so soon, wherein I know sighs would not let you sleep, thus understand it:
Cour. I only am admitted; yet hitherto that has done you no real happiness; by my admittance I cannot perform that deed that should please you, you know: wherefore thus I’ve conveyed it, I’ll counterfeit a fit of violent sickness.
Pen. B. Good.
Cour. Nay, ’tis not so good, by my faith, but to do you good.
Pen. B. And in that sense I called it: but take me with you, lady;[787] would it be probable enough to have a sickness so suddenly violent?
Cour. Pooh, all the world knows women are soon down: we can be sick when we have a mind to’t, catch an ague with the wind of our fans, surfeit upon the rump of a lark, and bestow ten pound in physic upon’t: we’re likest ourselves when we’re down; ’tis the easiest art and cunning for our sect[788] to counterfeit sick, that are always full of fits when we are well; for since we were made for a weak, imperfect creature, we can fit that best that we are made for. I thus translated, and yourself slipt into the form of a physician——
Pen. B. I a physician, lady? talk not on’t, I beseech you; I shall shame the whole college.
Cour. Tut, man, any quacksalving terms will serve for this purpose; for I am pitifully haunted with a brace of elder brothers, new perfumed in the first of their fortunes, and I shall see how forward their purses will be to the pleasing of my palate, and restoring of my health. Lay on load enough upon ’em, and spare ’em not, for they’re good plump fleshly asses, and may well enough bear it; let gold,[789] amber, and dissolved pearl, be common ingrediences, and that you cannot compose a cullice without ’em. Put but this cunningly in practice, it shall be both a sufficient recompense for all my pains in your love, and the ready means to make mistress Harebrain way, by the visiting of me, to your mutual desired company.
Pen. B. I applaud thee, kiss thee, and will constantly embrace it. [Exeunt severally.
SCENE VII.
Sir B. [within] Ho, Gumwater!
Fol. Singlestone!
[Within] Jenkin, wa, ha, ho!
[Within] Ewen!
[Within] Simcod!
Fol. Footman! whew!
Foot. [within] O good your worship, let me help your good old worship!
Sir B. Ah, poor honest footman! how did’st thou ’scape this massacre?
Foot. E’en by miracle, and lying in my clothes, sir.
Sir B. I think so; I would I had lain in my clothes too, footman, so I had ’scaped ’em: I could have but risse[791] like a beggar then, and so I do now, till more money come in; but nothing afflicts me so much, my poor geometrical footman, as that the barbarous villains should lay violence upon my lord. Ah, the binding of my lord cuts my heart in two pieces! So, so, ’tis well; I thank thee: run to thy fellows; undo ’em, undo ’em, undo ’em!
Foot. Alas, if my lord should miscarry, they’re unbound already, sir; they have no occupation but sleep, feed, and fart. [Exit.
Sir B. If I be not ashamed to look my lord i’ th’ face, I’m a Saracen.—My lord!
Fol. Who’s that?
Sir B. One may see he has been scared: a pox on ’em for their labours!
Fol. Singlestone!
Sir B. Singlestone? I’ll ne’er answer to that, i’faith.
Fol. Suchman!
Sir B. Suchman? nor that neither, i’faith; I am not brought so low, though I be old.
Fol. Who’s that i’ th’ chamber?
Sir B. Good morrow, my lord; ’tis I.
Fol. Sir Bounteous, good morrow; I would give you my hand, sir, but I cannot come at it. Is this the courtesy a’ th’ country, sir Bounteous?
Fol. Trust me, I thought you had been better beloved, sir Bounteous; but I see you have enemies, sir, and your friends fare the worse for ’em. I like your talk better than your lodging; I ne’er lay harder in a bed of down; I have had a mad night’s rest on’t. Can you not guess what they should be, sir Bounteous?
Sir B. Faith, Lincolnshire men, my lord.
Fol. How? fie, fie, believe it not, sir; these lie not far off, I warrant you.
Sir B. Think you so, my lord?
Fol. I’ll be burnt and[792] they do; some that use to your house, sir, and are familiar with all the conveyances.
Sir B. This is the commodity[793] of keeping open house, my lord; that makes so many shut their doors about dinner-time.
Fol. They were resolute villains: I made myself known to ’em, told ’em what I was, gave ’em my honourable word not to disclose ’em—
Sir B. O saucy, unmannerly villains!
Fol. And think you the slaves would trust me upon my word?
Sir B. They would not?
Fol. Forsooth, no; I must pardon ’em: they told me lords’ promises were mortal, and commonly die within half an hour after they are spoken; they were but gristles, and not one amongst a hundred come to any full growth or perfection; and therefore, though I were a lord, I must enter into bond.
Sir B. Insupportable rascals!
Fol. Troth, I’m of that mind. Sir Bounteous, you fared the worse for my coming hither.
Sir B. Ah, good my lord, but I’m sure your lordship fared the worse!
Fol. Pray, pity not me, sir.
Sir B. Is not your honour sore about the brawn of the arm? a murrain meet ’em, I feel it!
Fol. About this place, sir Bounteous?
Sir B. You feel as it were a twinge, my lord?
Fol. Ay, e’en a twinge, you say right.
Sir B. A pox discover ’em, that twinge I feel too!
Fol. But that which disturbs me most, sir Bounteous, lies here.
Sir B. True; about the wrist, a kind of tumid numbness.
Fol. You say true, sir.
Sir B. The reason of that, my lord, is, the pulses had no play.
Fol. Mass, so I guessed it.
Sir B. A mischief swell ’em, for I feel that too!
Maw. ’Slid, here’s a house haunted indeed!
Sir B. A word with you, sir.
Fol. How now, Singlestone?
Maw. I’m sorry, my lord, your lordship has lost——
Sir B. Pup, pup, pup, pup, pup!
Fol. What have I lost? speak.
Sir B. A good night’s sleep, say.
Fol. Speak, what have I lost, I say?
Maw. A good night’s sleep, my lord, nothing else.
Fol. That’s true; my clothes, come.
Maw. My lord’s clothes! his honour’s rising.
Sir B. Hist, well said: come hither; what has my lord lost? tell me, speak softly.
Maw. His lordship must know that, sir.
Sir B. Hush! prithee tell me.
Maw. ’Twill do you no pleasure to know’t, sir.
Sir B. Yet again? I desire it, I say.
Maw. Since your worship will needs know’t, they have stolen away a jewel in a blue silk ribband of a hundred pound price, beside some hundred pounds in fair spur-royals.[795]
Sir B. That’s some two hundred i’ th’ total.
Maw. Your worship’s much about it, sir.
Sir B. Come, follow me; I’ll make that whole again in so much money; let not my lord know on’t.
Maw. O pardon me, sir Bounteous! that were a dishonour to my lord: should it come to his ear, I should hazard my undoing by it.
Sir B. How should it come to his ear? if you be my lord’s chief man about him, I hope you do not use to speak unless you be paid for’t; and I had rather give you a counsellor’s double fee to hold your peace. Come, go to; follow me, I say.
Maw. There will be scarce time to tell it, sir; my lord will away instantly.
Sir B. His honour shall stay dinner, by his leave; I’ll prevail with him so far: and now I remember a jest, I bade the whoreson thieves to dinner last night; I would I might have their companies; a pox poison ’em!