Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.
Enter the two Brothers, 1 Gentleman, with those that
were the Masquers, and the Cupid.
1 Gent. I heartily commend your project, Gentlemen,
'Twas wise and virtuous.
1 Bro. 'Twas for the safety
Of precious honour Sir, which near bloud binds us to:
He promis'd the poor easie fool there, marriage,
There was a good Maiden-head lost i'th' belief on't,
Beshrew her hasty confidence.
1 Gent. Oh no more, Sir,
You make her weep agen; alas poor Cupid:
Shall she not shift her self?
1 Bro. Oh by no means Sir:
We dare not have her seen yet, all the while
She keeps this shape, 'tis but thought device,
And she may follow him so without suspition,
To see if she can draw all his wild passions,
To one point only, and that's love, the main point:
So far his Highness grants, and gave at first,
Large approbation to the quick conceit,
Which then was quick indeed.
1 Gent. You make her blush insooth.
1 Bro. I fear 'tis more the flag of shame, than grace Sir.
1 Gent. They both give but one kind of colour, Sir:
If it be bashfulness in that kind taken,
It is the same with grace; and there she weeps agen.
In truth y'are too hard, much, much too bitter Sir,
Unless you mean to have her weep her eyes out,
To play a Cupid truly.
1 Bro. Come ha' done then:
We should all fear to sin first; for 'tis certain,
When 'tis once lodg'd, though entertain'd in mirth,
It must be wept out, if it e'er come forth.
1 Gent. Now 'tis so well, I'll leave you.
1 Bro. Faithfully welcome, Sir,
Go Cupid to your charge; he's your own now;
If he want love, none will be blam'd but you.
Cu. The strangest marriage, and unfortunat'st Bride
That ever humane memory contain'd;
I cannot be my self for't. [Exit.
Enter the Clown.
Clow. Oh Gentlemen?
1 Bro. How now, Sir, what's the matter?
Clo. His melancholly passion is half spent already,
Then comes his angry fit at the very tail on't,
Then comes in my pain, gentlemen; h'as beat me e'en to a
Cullis. I am nothing, right worshipful, but very pap,
And jelly: I have no bones, my body's all one business,
They talk of ribs and chines most freely abroad i'th' world,
Why, I have no such thing; who ever lives to see me dead,
Gentlemen, shall find me all mummie good to fill Gallipots,
And long dildo glasses: I shall not have a bone to throw
At a dog.
Omnes. Alas poor vassal; how he goes!
Clo. Oh Gentlemen,
I am unjoynted, do but think o' that:
My breast is beat into my maw, that what I eat,
I am fain to take't in all at mouth with spoons;
A lamentable hearing; and 'tis well known, my belly
Is driven into my back.
I earn'd four Crowns a month most dearly Gentlemen,
And one he must have when the fit's upon him,
The Privy-purse allows it, and 'tis thriftiness,
He would break else s[o]me forty pounds in Casements,
And in five hundred years undo the Kingdom:
I have cast it up to a quarrel.
1 Bro. There's a fellow kickt about Court, I would
He had his place, brother, but for one fit of his indignation.
2 Bro. And suddainly I have thought upon a means for't.
1 Bro. I prethee how?
2 Bro. 'Tis but preferring, Brother
This stockfish to his service, with a Letter
Of commendations, the same way he wishes it,
And then you win his heart: for o' my knowledge
He has laid wait this half year for a fellow
That will be beaten, and with a safe conscience
We may commend the carriage of this man in't;
Now servants he has kept, lusty tall feeders,
But they have beat him, and turn'd themselves away:
Now one that would endure, is like to stay,
And get good wages of him; and the service too
Is ten times milder, Brother, I would not wish it else.
I see the fellow has a sore crush'd body,
And the more need he has to be kick'd at ease.
Clow. I sweet Gentlemen, a kick of ease, send me to such a Master.
2 Bro. No more I say, we have one for thee, a soft footed Master,
One that wears wooll in's toes.
Clow. Oh Gentlemen, soft garments may you wear,
Soft skins may you wed,
But as plump as pillows, both for white and red.
And now will I reveal a secret to you,
Since you provide for my poor flesh so tenderly,
Has hir'd meer rogues out of his chamber window,
To beat the Soldier, Monsieur Shamont's Brother:
1 Bro. That nothing concerns us, Sir.
Clow. For no cause, Gentlemen,
Unless it be for wearing Shoulder-points,
With longer taggs than his.
2 Bro. Is not that somewhat?
Birlakin Sir, the difference of long taggs,
Has cost many a man's life, and advanc'd other some,
Come follow me.
Clow. See what a gull am I:
Oh every man in his profession;
I know a thump now as judiciously,
As the proudest he that walks, I'll except none;
Come to a tagg, how short I fall! I'm gone [Exeunt.
Enter Lapet.
Lap. I have been ruminating with my self,
What honor a man loses by a kick:
Why; what's a kick? the fury of a foot,
Whose indignation commonly is stampt
Upon the hinder quarter of a man:
Which is a place very unfit for honor,
The world will confess so much:
Then what disgrace I pray, does th[a]t part surfer
Where honor never comes, I'de fain know that?
This being well forc'd, and urg'd, may have the power
To move most Gallants to take kicks in time,
And spurn out the duelloes out o' th' kingdom,
For they that stand upon their honor most,
When they conceive there is no honor lost,
As by a Table that I have invented
For that purpose alone, shall appear plainly,
Which shews the vanity of all blows at large.
And with what ease they may be took of all sides,
Numbring but twice o'er the Letters patience
From C. P. to E. I doubt not but in small time
To see a dissolution of all bloud-shed,
If the reform'd Kick do but once get up:
For what a lamentable folly 'tis,
If we observe't, for every little justle,
Which is but the ninth part of a sound thump,
In our meek computation, we must fight forsooth, yes,
If I kill, I'm hang'd; if I be kill'd my self,
I dye for't also: is not this trim wisdom?
Now for the Con, a ma[n] may be well beaten,
Yet pass away his fourscore years smooth after:
I had a Father did it, and to my power
I will not be behind him.
Enter Shamont.
Sham. Oh well met.
Lap. Now a fine punch or two, I look for't duly.
Sham. I've been to seek you.
Lap. Let me know your Lodging, Sir,
I'll come to you once a day, and use your pleasure, Sir.
Sham. I'm made the fittest man for thy society:
I'll live and dye with thee, come shew me a chamber;
There is no house but thine, but only thine,
That's fit to cover me: I've took a blow, sirrah.
Lap. I would you had indeed: why, you may see, Sir;
You'll all come to't in time, when my Book's out.
Sham. Since I did see thee last, I've took a blow.
Lap. Pha Sir, that's nothing: I ha' took forty since.
Sham. What? and I charg'd thee thou shouldst not?
Lap. I Sir, you might charge your pleasure.
But they would give't me, whether I would or no.
Sham. Oh, I walk without my peace, I've no companion now;
Prethee resolve me, for I cannot aske
A man more beaten to experience,
Than thou art in this kind, what manner of blow
Is held the most disgraceful, or distasteful?
For thou dost only censure 'em by the hurt,
Not by the shame they do thee: yet having felt
Abuses of all kinds, thou may'st deliver,
Though't be by chance, the most injurious one.
Lap. You put me to't, Sir; but to tell you truth,
They're all as one with me, little exception.
Sham. That little may do much, let's have it from you.
Lap. With all the speed I may, first then, and foremost,
I hold so reverently of the Bastinado, Sir,
That if it were the dearest friend i'th' world,
I'de put it into his hand.
Sham. Go too, I'll pass that then.
Lap. Y'are the more happy, Sir,
Would I were past it too:
But being accustom'd to't. It is the better carried.
Sham. Will you forward?
Lap. Then there's your souce, your wherit and your dowst,
Tugs on the hair, your bob o'th' lips, a whelp on't,
I ne'er could find much difference: Now your thump,
A thing deriv'd first from your Hemp-beaters,
Takes a mans wind away, most spitefully:
There's nothing that destroys a Collick like it,
For't leaves no wind i'th' body.
Sham. On Sir, on.
Lap. Pray give me leave, I'm out of breath with thinking on't.
Sham. This is far off yet.
Lap. For the twinge by th' nose,
'Tis certainly unsightly, so my [Table] says,
But helps against the head-ach, wond'rous strangely.
Sham. Is't possible?
Lap. Oh your crush'd nostrils slakes your opilation,
And makes your pent powers flush to wholsome sneezes.
Sham. I never thought there had been half that virtue
In a wrung nose before.
Lap. Oh plenitude, Sir:
Now come we lower to our modern Kick,
Which has been mightily in use of late,
Since our young men drank Coltsfoot: and I grant you,
'Tis a most scornful wrong, cause the foot plays it;
But mark agen, how we that take't, requite it
With the like scorn, for we receive it backward;
And can there be a worse disgrace retorted?
Sham. And is this all?
Lap. All but a Lug by th' ear,
Or such a trifle.
Sham. Happy sufferer,
All this is nothing to the wrong I bear:
I see the worst disgrace, thou never felt'st yet;
It is so far from thee tho[u] canst not think on't;
Nor dare I let thee know, it is so abject.
Lap. I would you would though, that I might prepare for't
For I shall ha't at one time or another:
If't be a thwack, I make account of that;
There's no new fashion'd swap that e'er came up yet,
But I've the first on 'em, I thank 'em for't.
Enter the Lady and Servants.
La. Hast thou enquir'd?
1 Serv. But can hear nothing, Madam.
Sham. If there be but so much substance in thee
To make a shelter for a man disgrac'd,
Hide my departure from that glorious woman
That comes with all perfection about her:
So noble, that I dare not be seen of her,
Since shame took hold of me: upon thy life
No mention of me.
Lap. I'll cut out my tongue first,
Before I'll loose my life, there's more belongs to't.
Lad. See there's a Gentleman, enquire of him.
2 Ser. For Monsieur Shamont, Madam?
Lad. For whom else, Sir?
1 Serv. Why, this fellow dares not see him.
Lad. How?
1 Serv. Shamont, Madam?
His very name's worse than a Feaver to him,
And when he cries, there's nothing stills him sooner;
Madam, your Page of thirteen is too hard for him,
'Twas try'd i'th' wood-yard.
Lad. Alas poor grieved Merit!
What is become of him? if he once fail,
Virtue shall find small friendship: farewel then
To Ladies worths, for any hope in men,
He lov'd for goodness, not for Wealth, or Lust,
After the world's foul dotage, he ne'er courted
The body, but the beauty of the mind,
A thing which common courtship never thinks on:
All his affections were so sweet and fair,
There is no hope for fame if he despair.
[Exit Lady and Serv.
Enter the Clown. He kicks Lapet.
Lap. Good morrow to you agen most heartily, Sir,
Cry you mercy, I heard you not, I was somewhat busie.
Clow. He takes it as familiarly, as an Ave,
Or precious salutation: I was sick till I had one,
Because I am so us'd to't.
Lap. However you deserve, your friends and mine, here
Give you large commendations i'this Letter,
They say you will endure well.
Clow. I'de be loath
To prove 'em liers: I've endur'd as much
As mortal pen and ink can set me down for.
Lap. Say you me so?
Clow. I know and feel it so, Sir,
I have it under Black and White already;
I need no Pen to paint me out.
Lap. He fits me,
And hits my wishes pat, pat: I was ne'er
In possibility to be better mann'd,
For he's half lam['d] already, I see't plain,
But take no notice on't, for fear I make
The rascal proud, and dear, to advance his wages;
First, let me grow into particulars with you;
What have you endured of worth? let me hear.
Clow. Marry Sir, I'm almost beaten blind.
Lap. That's pretty well for a beginning,
But many a Mill-horse has endur'd as much.
Clow. Shame o'th' Millers heart for his unkindness then.
Lap. Well Sir, what then?
Clow. I've been twice thrown down stairs, just before supper.
Lap. Puh, so have I, that's nothing.
Clow. I but Sir,
Was yours pray before supper?
Lap. There thou posest me.
Clow. I marry, that's it, 't had been less grief to me,
Had I but fill'd my belly, and then tumbled,
But to be flung down fasting, there's the dolour.
Lap. It would have griev'd me, that indeed: proceed Sir.
Clo. I have been pluck'd and tugg'd by th' hair o'th' head
About a Gallery, half an Acre long.
Lap. Yes, that's a good one, I must needs confess,
A principal good one that, an absolute good one,
I have been trode upon, and spurn'd about,
But never tugg'd by th' hair, I thank my fates.
Clow. Oh 'tis a spiteful pain.
Lap. Peace, never speak on't,
For putting men in mind on't.
Clow. To conclude,
I'm bursten Sir: my belly will hold no meat.
Lap. No? that makes amends for all.
Clow. Unless 't be puddings,
Or such fast food, any loose thing beguiles me, I'm ne'er the better for't.
Lap. Sheeps-heads will stay with thee?
Clo. Yes Sir, or Chaldrons.
Lap. Very well sir:
Your bursten fellows must take heed of surfets:
Strange things it seems, you have endur'd;
Clo. Too true Sir.
Lap. But now the question is, what you will endure
Hereafter in my service?
Clo. Anything
That shall be reason Sir, for I'm but froth;
Much like a thing new calv'd, or come more nearer Sir,
Y'ave seen a cluster of Frog-spawns in April,
E'en such a starch am I, as weak and tender
As a green woman yet.
Lap. Now I know this,
I will be very gently angry with thee,
And kick thee carefully.
Clow. Oh I, sweet Sir.
Lap. Peace, when thou art offer'd well, lest I begin now.
Your friends and mine have writ here for your truth,
They'll pass their words themselves, and I must meet 'em.
Clow. Then have you all: [Exit.
As for my honesty, there is no fear of that,
For I have ne'er a whole bone about me. [Exit.
Musick. Enter the passionate Cosin, rudely, and carelesly apparrell'd,
unbrac'd, and untruss'd. The Cupid following.
Cup. Think upon love, which makes all creatures handsome,
Seemly for eye-sight; goe not so diffusedly,
There are great Ladies purpose Sir to visit you.
Pas. Grand plagues, shut in my casements, that the breaths
Of their Coach-mares reek not into my nostrils;
Those beasts are but a kind of bawdy fore-runners.
Cup. It is not well with you,
When you speak ill of fair Ladies.
Pas. Fair mischiefs, give me a nest of Owls and take 'em;
Happy is he, say I, whose window opens
To a brown Bakers chimney, he shall be sure there
To hear the Bird sometimes after twilight:
What a fine thing 'tis methinks to have our garments
Sit loose upon us thus, thus carelesly,
It is more manly, and more mortifying;
For we're so much the readier for our shrouds:
For how ridiculous wer't, to have death come,
And take a fellow, pinn'd up like a Mistriss!
About his neck a Ruff, like a pinch'd Lanthorn,
Which School-boys make in winter; and his doublet
So close and pent, as if he fear'd one prison
Would not be strong enough, to keep his soul in;
But's Tailor makes another:
And trust me; (for I know't when I lov'd Cupid,)
He does endure much pain, for the poor praise
Of a neat sitting suit.
Cup. One may be handsome, Sir,
And yet not pain'd, nor proud.
Pas. There you lie Cupid,
As bad as Mercury: there is no handsomness,
But has a wash of Pride and Luxury,
And you go there too Cupid. Away dissembler,
Thou tak'st the deeds part, which befools us all;
Thy Arrow heads shoot out sinners: hence away,
And after thee I'll send a powerful charm,
Shall banish thee for ever.
Cup. Never, never,
I am too sure thine own. [Exit.
Pas. Sings.
Hence all you vain Delights,
As short as are the nights,
Wherein you spend your folly,
There's nought in this life sweet,
If man were wise to see't,
But only melancholly,
Oh sweetest melancholly.
Welcome folded Arms, and fixed Eyes,
A sigh that piercing mortifies,
A look that's fastened to the ground,
A tongue chain'd up without a sound.
Fountain heads, and pathless Groves,
Places which pale passion loves:
Moon-light walks, when all the Fowls
Are warmly hous'd, save Bats and Owls;
A mid-night Bell, a parting groan,
These are the sounds we feed upon;
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley,
Nothing's so dainty sweet, as lovely melancholly. [Exit.
Enter at another door Lapet, the Cupid's Brothers
watching his coming.
1 Bro. So, so, the Woodcock's ginn'd;
Keep this door fast brother.
2 Bro. I'll warrant this.
1 Bro. I'll goe incense him instantly;
I know the way to't.
2 Bro. Will't not be too soon think you,
And make two fits break into one?
1 Bro. Pah, no, no; the tail of his melancholy
Is always the head of his anger, and follows as close,
As the Report follows the powder.
Lap. This is the appointed place, and the hour struck,
If I can get security for's truth,
I'll never mind his honesty, poor worm,
I durst lay him by my wife, which is a benefit
Which many Masters ha' not: I shall ha' no Maid
Now got with child, but what I get my self,
And that's no small felicity: in most places
Th'are got by th' Men, and put upon the Masters,
Nor shall I be resisted when I strike,
For he can hardly stand; these are great blessings.
Pas. I want my food, deliver me a Varlet. [Within.
Lap. How now, from whence comes that?
Pas. I am allow'd a carkass to insult on;
Where's the villain?
Lap. He means not me I hope.
Pas. My maintenance rascals; my bulk, my exhibition.
[L]ap. Bless us all,
What names are these? Would I were gone agen.
The passionate man enters in fury with a Truncheon.
He Sings.
A curse upon thee for a slave,
Art thou here, and heardst me rave?
Fly not sparkles from mine eye,
To shew my indignation nigh?
Am I not all foam, and fire,
With voice as hoarse as a Town-crier?
How my back opes and shuts together,
With fury, as old mens with weather!
Could'st thou not hear my teeth gnash hither?
Lap. No truly, Sir, I thought 't had been a Squirrel,
Shaving a Hazel-nut.
Pas. Death, Hell, Fiends, and darkness.
I will thrash thy maungy carkass.
Lap. Oh sweet Sir.
Pas. There cannot be too many tortures,
Spent upon those louzie Quarters.
Lap. Hold, oh. [Falls down for dead.
Pas. Thy bones shall rue, thy bones shall rue.
Sings again.
Thou nasty, scurvy, mongril Toad,
Mischief on thee;
Light upon thee,
All the plagues
That can confound thee
Or did ever raign abroad:
Better a thousand lives it cost,
Than have brave anger spilt or lost. [Exit.
Lap. May I open mine eyes yet, and safely peep:
I'll try a groon first—oh—Nay then he's gone.
There was no other policy but to dy,
He would ha' made me else. Ribs are you sore?
I was ne'er beaten to a tune before.
Enter the two Brothers.
1 Bro. Lapet.
Lap. Agen? [Falls again.
1 Bro. Look, look, he's flat agen,
And stretched out like a Coarse, a handful longer
Than he walks, trust me brother. Why Lapet
I hold my life we shall not get him speak now:
Monsieur Lapet; it must be a privy token,
If any thing fetch him, he's so far gone.
We come to pass our words for your mans truth.
Lap. Oh Gentlemen y'are welcome: I have been thrash'd i' faith.
2 Bro. How? thrash'd Sir?
Lap. Never was Shrove-tuesday Bird
So cudgell'd, Gentlemen.
1 Bro. Pray how? by whom Sir?
Lap. Nay, that I know not.
1 Bro. Not who did this wrong?
Lap. Only a thing came like a Walking Song.
1 Bro. What beaten with a Song?
Lap. Never more tightly, Gentlemen:
Such crotchets happen now and then, methinks
He that endures well, of all waters drinks. [Exeunt.