Laxton, with bays[1039]
Crown I thy wit for this, it deserves praise:
This makes me affect thee more, this proves thee wise:
’Lack, what poor shift is love forc’d to devise!—

To th’ point. [Reads letter.] O sweet creature—a sweet beginning!—pardon my long absence, for thou shalt shortly be possessed with my presence: though Demophoon was false to Phyllis, I will be to thee as Pan-da-rus was to Cres-sida;[1040] though Æneas made an ass of Dido, I will die to thee ere I do so. O sweetest creature, make much of me! for no man beneath the silver moon shall make more of a woman than I do of thee: furnish me therefore with thirty pounds; you must do it of necessity for me; I languish till I see some comfort come from thee. Protesting not to die in thy debt, but rather to live, so as hitherto I have and will,

Thy true Laxton ever.

Alas, poor gentleman! troth, I pity him.
How shall I raise this money? thirty pound!
’Tis thirty sure, a 3 before an 0;
I know his threes too well. My childbed linen,
Shall I pawn that for him? then if my mark
Be known, I am undone; it may be thought
My husband’s bankrout.[1041] Which way shall I turn?
Laxton, what with my own fears and thy wants,
I’m like a needle ’twixt two adamants.
Re-enter Gallipot hastily.

Gal. Nay, nay, wife, the women are all up—Ha! how? reading a’ letters? I smell a goose, a couple of capons, and a gammon of bacon, from her mother out of the country. I hold my life—steal, steal[1042]—— [Aside.

Mis. G. O, beshrew your heart!
Gal. What letter’s that? I’ll see’t.
[Mis. G. tears the letter.
Mis. G. O, would thou hadst no eyes to see the downfal
Of me and thyself! I am for ever,
For ever I’m undone!
Gal. What ails my Pru?
What paper’s that thou tear’st?
Mis. G. Would I could tear
My very heart in pieces! for my soul
Lies on the rack of shame, that tortures me
Beyond a woman’s suffering.
Gal. What means this?
Mis. G. Had you no other vengeance to throw down,
But even in height of all my joys——
Gal. Dear woman——
Mis. G. When the full sea of pleasure and content
Seem’d to flow over me?
Gal. As thou desir’st
To keep me out of Bedlam, tell what troubles thee!
Is not thy child at nurse fallen sick, or dead?
Mis. G. O, no!
Gal. Heavens bless me! are my barns and houses
Yonder at Hockley-hole consum’d with fire?
I can build more, sweet Pru.
Mis. G. ’Tis worse, ’tis worse!
Gal. My factor broke? or is the Jonas sunk?
Mis. G. Would all we had were swallow’d in the waves,
Rather than both should be the scorn of slaves!
Gal. I’m at my wit’s end.
Mis. G. O my dear husband!
Where[1043] once I thought myself a fixed star,
Plac’d only in the heaven of thine arms,
I fear now I shall prove a wanderer.
O Laxton, Laxton! is it then my fate
To be by thee o’erthrown?
Gal. Defend me, wisdom,
From falling into frenzy! On my knees,
Sweet Pru, speak; what’s that Laxton, who so heavy
Lies on thy bosom?
Mis. G. I shall sure run mad!
Gal. I shall run mad for company then. Speak to me;
I’m Gallipot thy husband—Pru—why, Pru!
Art sick in conscience for some villanous deed
Thou wert about to act? didst mean to rob me?
Tush, I forgive thee: hast thou on my bed
Thrust my soft pillow under another’s head?
I’ll wink at all faults, Pru: ’las, that’s no more,
Than what some neighbours near thee have done before!
Sweet honey Pru, what’s that Laxton?
Mis. G. O!
Gal. Out with him!
Mis. G. O, he’s born to be my undoer!
This hand, which thou call’st thine, to him was given,
To him was I made sure[1044] i’ th’ sight of heaven.
Gal. I never heard this thunder.
Mis. G. Yes, yes, before
I was to thee contracted, to him I swore:
Since last I saw him,[1045] twelve months three times told
The moon hath drawn through her light silver bow;
For o’er the seas he went, and it was said,
But rumour lies, that he in France was dead:
But he’s alive, O he’s alive! he sent
That letter to me, which in rage I rent;
Swearing with oaths most damnably to have me,
Or tear me from this bosom: O heavens, save me!
Gal. My heart will break; sham’d and undone for ever!
Mis. G. So black a day, poor wretch, went o’er thee never!
Gal. If thou should’st wrestle with him at the law,
Thou’rt sure to fall. No odd slight?[1046] no prevention?
I’ll tell him thou’rt with child.
Mis. G. Umh!
Gal. Or give out
One of my men was ta’en a-bed with thee.
Mis. G. Umh, umh!
Gal. Before I lose thee, my dear Pru,
I’ll drive it to that push.
Mis. G. Worse and worse still;
You embrace a mischief, to prevent an ill.
Gal. I’ll buy thee of him, stop his mouth with gold:
Think’st thou ’twill do?
Mis. G. O me! heavens grant it would!
Yet now my senses are set more in tune,
He writ, as I remember, in his letter,
That he in riding up and down had spent,
Ere he could find me, thirty pounds: send that;
Stand not on thirty with him.
Gal. Forty, Pru!
Say thou the word, ’tis done: we venture lives
For wealth, but must do more to keep our wives.
Thirty or forty, Pru?
Mis. G. Thirty, good sweet;
Of an ill bargain let’s save what we can:
I’ll pay it him with my tears; he was a man,
When first I knew him, of a meek spirit,
All goodness is not yet dried up, I hope.
Gal. He shall have thirty pound, let that stop all:
Love’s sweets taste best when we have drunk down gall.
Enter Tiltyard, Mistress Tiltyard, Goshawk, and Mistress Openwork.
God’s-so, our friends! come, come, smooth your cheek:
After a storm the face of heaven looks sleek.
Tilt. Did I not tell you these turtles were together?
Mis. T. How dost thou, sirrah?[1047] why, sister Gallipot——
Mis. O. Lord, how she’s chang’d!
Gos. Is your wife ill, sir?

Gal. Yes, indeed, la, sir, very ill, very ill, never worse.

Mis. T. How her head burns! feel how her pulses work!

Mis. O. Sister, lie down a little; that always does me good.

Mis. T. In good sadness,[1048] I find best ease in that too. Has she laid some hot thing to her stomach?

Mis. G. No, but I will lay something anon.

Tilt. Come, come, fools, you trouble her.—Shall’s go, master Goshawk?

Gos. Yes, sweet master Tiltyard.—Sirrah Rosamond, I hold my life Gallipot hath vext his wife.

Mis. O. She has a horrible high colour indeed.

Gos. We shall have your face painted with the same red soon at night, when your husband comes from his rubbers in a false alley: thou wilt not believe me that his bowls run with a wrong bias.

Mis. O. It cannot sink into me that he feeds upon stale mutton abroad, having better and fresher at home.

Gos. What if I bring thee where thou shalt see him stand at rack and manger?

Mis. O. I’ll saddle him in’s kind, and spur him till he kick again.

Gos. Shall thou and I ride our journey then?

Mis. O. Here’s my hand.

Gos. No more.—Come, master Tiltyard, shall we leap into the stirrups with our women, and amble home?

Tilt. Yes, yes.—Come, wife.

Mis. T. In troth, sister, I hope you will do well for all this.

Mis. G. I hope I shall. Farewell, good sister. Sweet master Goshawk.

Gal. Welcome, brother, most kindly welcome, sir.

All. Thanks, sir, for our good cheer.

[Exeunt all but Gallipot and Mis. Gallipot.
Gal. It shall be so: because a crafty knave
Shall not outreach me, nor walk by my door
With my wife arm in arm, as ’twere his whore,
I’ll give him a golden coxcomb, thirty pound.
Tush, Pru, what’s thirty pound? sweet duck, look cheerly.
Mis. G. Thou’rt worthy of my heart, thou buy’st it dearly.
Enter Laxton muffled.

Lax. Uds light, the tide’s against me; a pox of your ’pothecaryship! O for some glister to set him going! ’Tis one of Hercules’ labours to tread one of these city hens, because their cocks are still crowing over them. There’s no turning tail here, I must on. [Aside.

Mis. G. O husband, see he comes!
Gal. Let me deal with him.
Lax. Bless you, sir.
Gal. Be you blest too, sir, if you come in peace.
Lax. Have you any good pudding tobacco, sir?
Mis. G. O, pick no quarrels, gentle sir! my husband
Is not a man of weapon, as you are;
He knows all, I have open’d all before him,
Concerning you.
Lax. Zounds, has she shewn my letters? [Aside.
Mis. G. Suppose my case were yours, what would you do?
At such a pinch, such batteries, such assaults
Of father, mother, kindred, to dissolve
The knot you tied, and to be bound to him;
How could you shift this storm off?
Lax. If I know, hang me!
Mis. G. Besides a story of your death was read
Each minute to me.
Lax. What a pox means this riddling? [Aside.
Gal. Be wise, sir; let not you and I be tost
On lawyers’ pens; they have sharp nibs, and draw
Men’s very heart-blood from them. What need you, sir,
To beat the drum of my wife’s infamy,
And call your friends together, sir, to prove
Your precontract, when sh’as confest it?
Lax. Umh, sir,
Has she confest it?
Gal. Sh’as, ’faith, to me, sir,
Upon your letter sending.
Mis. G. I have, I have.
Lax. If I let this iron cool, call me slave.
[Aside.
Do you hear, you dame Prudence? think’st thou, vile woman,
I’ll take these blows and wink?
Mis. Gal. Upon my knees. [Kneeling.
Lax. Out, impudence!
Gal. Good sir——
Lax. You goatish slaves!
No wild fowl to cut up but mine?
Gal. Alas, sir,
You make her flesh to tremble; fright her not:
She shall do reason, and what’s fit.
Lax. I’ll have thee,
Wert thou more common than an hospital,
And more diseas’d.
Gal. But one word, good sir!
Lax. So, sir.
Gal. I married her, have lien with her, and got
Two children on her body; think but on that:
Have you so beggarly an appetite,
When I upon a dainty dish have fed
To dine upon my scraps, my leavings? ha, sir?
Do I come near you now, sir?
Lax. Byrlady,[1049] you touch me!
Gal. Would not you scorn to wear my clothes, sir?
Lax. Right, sir.
Gal. Then, pray, sir, wear not her; for she’s a garment
So fitting for my body, I am loath
Another should put it on: you’ll undo both.
Your letter, as she said, complain’d you had spent,
In quest of her, some thirty pound; I’ll pay it:
Shall that, sir, stop this gap up ’twixt you two?
Lax. Well, if I swallow this wrong, let her thank you:
The money being paid, sir, I am gone:
Farewell. O women, happy’s he trusts none!
Mis. G. Despatch him hence, sweet husband.
Gal. Yes, dear wife:
Pray, sir, come in: ere master Laxton part,
Thou shalt in wine drink to him.
Mis. G. With all my heart.— [Exit Gallipot.
How dost thou like my wit?
Lax. Rarely: that wile,
By which the serpent did the first woman beguile,
Did ever since all women’s bosoms fill;
You’re apple-eaters all, deceivers still. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Holborn.

Enter Sir Alex. Wengrave, Sir Davy Dapper, and Sir Adam Appleton on one side, and Trapdoor on the other.

S. Alex. Out with your tale, sir Davy, to sir Adam:
A knave is in mine eye deep in my debt.
S. Davy. Nay, if he be a knave, sir, hold him fast.
[Sir D. Dapper and Sir A. Appleton talk apart.
S. Alex. Speak softly; what egg is there hatching now?

Trap. A duck’s egg, sir, a duck that has eaten a frog; I have cracked the shell, and some villany or other will peep out presently: the duck that sits is the bouncing ramp,[1050] that roaring girl my mistress; the drake that must tread is your son Sebastian.

S. Alex. Be quick.

Trap. As the tongue of an oyster-wench.

S. Alex. And see thy news be true.

Trap. As a barber’s every Saturday night. Mad Moll——

S. Alex. Ah——

Trap. Must be let in, without knocking, at your back gate.

S. Alex. So.

Trap. Your chamber will be made bawdy.

S. Alex. Good.

Trap. She comes in a shirt of mail.

S. Alex. How? shirt of mail?

Trap. Yes, sir, or a male shirt; that’s to say, in man’s apparel.

S. Alex. To my son?

Trap. Close to your son: your son and her moon will be in conjunction, if all almanacs lie not; her black saveguard[1051] is turned into a deep slop, the holes of her upper body to button-holes, her waistcoat to a doublet, her placket[1052] to the ancient seat of a cod-piece, and you shall take ’em both with standing collars.

S. Alex. Art sure of this?

Trap. As every throng is sure of a pick-pocket; as sure as a whore is of the clients all Michaelmas term, and of the pox after the term.

S. Alex. The time of their tilting?

Trap. Three.

S. Alex. The day?

Trap. This.

S. Alex. Away; ply it, watch her.

Trap. As the devil doth for the death of a bawd; I’ll watch her, do you catch her.

S. Alex. She’s fast: here weave thou the nets. Hark.

Trap. They are made.

S. Alex. I told them thou didst owe me money: hold it up; maintain’t.

Trap. Stiffly, as a puritan does contention.—Pox, I owe thee not the value of a halfpenny halter.

S. Alex. Thou shalt be hang’d in it ere thou ’scape so:
Varlet, I’ll make thee look th[o]rough a grate!

Trap. I’ll do’t presently, through a tavern grate: drawer! pish. [Exit.

S. Adam. Has the knave vex’d you, sir?
S. Alex. Ask’d him my money,
He swears my son receiv’d it. O, that boy
Will ne’er leave heaping sorrow’s on my heart,
Till he has broke it quite!
S. Adam. Is he still wild?
S. Alex. As is a Russian bear.
S. Adam. But he has left
His old haunt with that baggage?
S. Alex. Worse still and worse;
He lays on me his shame, I on him my curse.
S. Davy. My son, Jack Dapper, then shall run with him
All in one pasture.
S. Adam. Proves your son bad too, sir?
S. Davy. As villany can make him: your Sebastian
Doats but on one drab, mine on a thousand;
A noise of fiddlers,[1053] tobacco, wine, and a whore,
A mercer that will let him take up more,
Dice, and a water-spaniel with a duck,—O
Bring him a-bed with these: when his purse gingles,
Roaring boys[1054] follow at’s tail, fencers and ningles,[1055]
Beasts Adam ne’er gave name to; these horse-leeches suck
My son; he being drawn dry, they all live on smoke.
S. Alex. Tobacco?
S. Davy. Right: but I have in my brain
A windmill going that shall grind to dust
The follies of my son, and make him wise,
Or a stark fool. Pray lend me your advice.

S. Alex.
S. Adam. } That shall you, good sir Davy.

S. Davy. Here’s the springe
I ha’ set to catch this woodcock in: an action
In a false name, unknown to him, is enter’d
I’ th’ Counter to arrest Jack Dapper.

S. Alex.
S. Adam. } Ha, ha, he!

S. Davy. Think you the Counter cannot break him?
S. Adam. Break him?
Yes, and break’s heart too, if he lie there long.
S. Davy. I’ll make him sing a counter-tenor sure.
S. Adam. No way to tame him like it; there he shall learn
What money is indeed, and how to spend it.
S. Davy. He’s bridled there.
S. Alex. Ay, yet knows not how to mend it.
Bedlam cures not more madmen in a year
Than one of the Counters[1056] does; men pay more dear
There for their wit than any where: a Counter!
Why, ’tis an university, who not sees?
As scholars there, so here men take degrees,
And follow the same studies all alike.
Scholars learn first logic and rhetoric;
So does a prisoner: with fine honey’d speech
At’s first coming in he doth persuade, beseech
He may be lodg’d with one that is not itchy,
To lie in a clean chamber, in sheets not lousy;
But when he has no money, then does he try,
By subtle logic and quaint sophistry,
To make the keepers trust him.
S. Adam. Say they do.
S. Alex. Then he’s a graduate.
S. Davy. Say they trust him not.
S. Alex. Then is he held a freshman and a sot,
And never shall commence;[1057] but being still barr’d,
Be expuls’d from the Master’s side[1058] to th’ Two-penny ward,
Or else i’ th’ Hole beg plac’d.[1059]
S. Adam. When then, I pray,
Proceeds a prisoner?
S. Alex. When, money being the theme,
He can dispute with his hard creditors’ hearts,
And get out clear, he’s then a master of arts.
Sir Davy, send your son to Wood Street college,
A gentleman can no where get more knowledge.
S. Davy. There gallants study hard.
S. Alex. True, to get money.
S. Davy. Lies[1060] by th’ heels, i’faith: thanks, thanks; I ha’ sent
For a couple of bears shall paw him.
S. Adam. Who comes yonder?
S. Davy. They look like puttocks;[1061] these should be they.
Enter Curtleax and Hanger.
S. Alex. I know ’em,
They are officers; sir, we’ll leave you.
S. Davy. My good knights,
Leave me; you see I’m haunted now with sprites.[1062]

S. Alex.
S. Adam. ] Fare you well, sir. [Exeunt.

Cur. This old muzzle-chops should be he by the fellow’s description.—Save you, sir.

S. Davy. Come hither, you mad varlets; did not my man tell you I watched here for you?

Cur. One in a blue coat,[1063] sir, told us, that in this place an old gentleman would watch for us; a thing contrary to our oath, for we are to watch for every wicked member in a city.

S. Davy. You’ll watch then for ten thousand: what’s thy name, honesty?

Cur. Sergeant Curtleax I, sir.

S. Davy. An excellent name for a sergeant, Curtleax:
Sergeants indeed are weapons of the law;
When prodigal ruffians far in debt are grown,
Should not you cut them, citizens were o’erthrown.
Thou dwell’st hereby in Holborn, Curtleax?

Cur. That’s my circuit, sir; I conjure most in that circle.

S. Davy. And what young toward whelp is this?

Han. Of the same litter; his yeoman, sir; my name’s Hanger.

S. Davy. Yeoman Hanger:
One pair of shears sure cut out both your coats;
You have two names most dangerous to men’s throats;
You two are villanous loads on gentlemen’s backs;
Dear ware this Hanger and this Curtleax!

Cur. We are as other men are, sir; I cannot see but he who makes a shew of honesty and religion, if his claws can fasten to his liking, he draws blood: all that live in the world are but great fish and little fish, and feed upon one another; some eat up whole men, a sergeant cares but for the shoulder of a man. They call us knaves and curs; but many times he that sets us on worries more lambs one year than we do in seven.

S. Davy. Spoke like a noble Cerberus! is the action entered?

Han. His name is entered in the book of unbelievers.

S. Davy. What book’s that?

Cur. The book where all prisoners’ names stand; and not one amongst forty, when he comes in, believes to come out in haste.

S. Davy. Be as dogged to him as your office allows you to be.

Both. O sir!

S. Davy. You know the unthrift, Jack Dapper?

Cur. Ay, ay, sir, that gull, as well as I know my yeoman.

S. Davy. And you know his father too, sir Davy Dapper?

Cur. As damned a usurer as ever was among Jews: if he were sure his father’s skin would yield him any money, he would, when he dies, flay it off, and sell it to cover drums for children at Bartholomew fair.

S. Davy. What toads are these to spit poison on a man to his face! [Aside.]—Do you see, my honest rascals? yonder Greyhound is the dog he hunts with; out of that tavern Jack Dapper will sally: sa, sa; give the counter; on, set upon him!

Both. We’ll charge him upo’ th’ back, sir.

S. Davy. Take no bail; put mace[1064] enough into his caudle; double your files, traverse your ground.

Both. Brave, sir.

S. Davy. Cry arm, arm, arm!

Both. Thus, sir.

S. Davy. There, boy, there, boy! away: look to your prey, my true English wolves; and so I vanish. [Exit.

Cur. Some warden of the sergeants begat this old fellow, upon my life: stand close.

Han. Shall the ambuscado lie in one place?

Cur. No; nook thou yonder. [They retire.

Enter Moll and Trapdoor.

Moll. Ralph.

Trap. What says my brave captain male and female?

Moll. This Holborn is such a wrangling street!

Trap. That’s because lawyers walk[1065] to and fro in’t.

Moll. Here’s such jostling, as if every one we met were drunk and reeled.

Trap. Stand, mistress! do you not smell carrion?

Moll. Carrion? no; yet I spy ravens.

Trap. Some poor, wind-shaken gallant will anon fall into sore labour, and these men-midwives[1066] must bring him to bed i’ the counter: there all those that are great with child with debts lie in.

Moll. Stand up.

Trap. Like your new Maypole.

Han. Whist, whew!

Cur. Hump, no.

Moll. Peeping? it shall go hard, huntsmen, but I’ll spoil your game. They look for all the world like two infected malt-men coming muffled up in their cloaks in a frosty morning to London.

Trap. A course, captain; a bear comes to the stake.

Enter Jack Dapper and Gull.

Moll. It should be so, for the dogs struggle to be let loose.

Han. Whew!

Cur. Hemp.

Moll. Hark, Trapdoor, follow your leader.

J. Dap. Gull.

Gull. Master?

J. Dap. Didst ever see such an ass as I am, boy?

Gull. No, by my troth, sir; to lose all your money, yet have false dice of your own; why, ’tis as I saw a great fellow used t’other day; he had a fair sword and buckler, and yet a butcher dry beat him with a cudgel.

Trap.[1067] Honest servant, fly!

Moll. Fly, master Dapper! you’ll be arrested else.

J. Dap. Run, Gull, and draw.

Gull. Run, master; Gull follows you.