Arb. Nay, pr'ythee don't: he'll think thee rude. Ruth. Why then I'll think him an ass.-How is't after your journey, sir? Blunt. Why, I am worse after it. Ruth. Do you love riding in a coach, sir? Blunt. No, forsooth, nor talking after riding in a coach. Ruth. I should be loath to interrupt your meditations, sir: we may have the fruits hereafter. Blunt. If you have, they shall break loose spite of my teeth.-This spawn is as bad as the great pike. [Aside. Arb. Pr'ythee peace!Sir, we wish you all happiness. Blunt. And quiet, good sweet ladies-I like her well enough.- -Now would not I have her say any more, for fear she should jeer too, and spoil my good opinion. If 'twere possible, I would think well of one woman. Mrs Day. Come, Mrs Arbella, 'tis as I told you; Abel has done it; say no more. Take her by the hand, Abel; I profess, she may venture to take thee for better for worse. Come, mistress, the honourable committee will sit suddenly. Come, let's along. Farewell, sir. [Exeunt all but BLUNT. Blunt. How! the committee ready to sit ! Plague on their honours; for so my honour'd lady, that was one of the eleven, was pleas'd to call 'em. I had like to have come a day after the fair. 'Tis pretty, that such as I have been must compound for their having been rascals. Well, I must go look a lodging, and a solicitor: I'll find the arrantest rogue I can, too: for, according to the old saying, set a thief to catch a thief. Enter Colonel CARELESS and Lieutenant. Care. Dear Blunt, well met; when came you, man? Blunt. Dear Careless, I did not think to have ⚫ met thee so suddenly. Lieutenant, your servant. I am landed just now, man. sea. Care. Thou speak'st as if thou hadst been at Blunt. It's pretty well guess'd; I have been in a storm. Care. What business brought thee? Blunt. May be the same with yours; I am come to compound with their honours. Care. That's my business too. Why, the committee sits suddenly. Blunt. Yes, I know it; I heard so in the storm I told thee of. Care. What storm, man? Blunt. Why, a tempest, as high as ever blew from woman's breath. I have rode in a stagecoach, wedged in with half a dozen; one of them was a committee-man's wife; his name is Day; and she accordingly will be call'd your honour, and your ladyship; with a tongue that wags as much faster than all other women's, as, in the several motions of a watch, the hand of the minute moves faster than that of the hour. There was her daughter, too; but a bastard, without question: for she had no resemblance to the rest of the notch'd rascals, and very pretty, and had wit enough to jeer a man in prosperity to death. There was another gentlewoman, and she was handsome; nay, very handsome; but I kept her from being as bad as the rest. Care. Pr'ythee, how, man? Blunt. Why, she began with two or three good words, and I desired her she would be quiet while she was well. Care. Thou wert not so mad. Blunt. I had been mad if I had not--But when we came to our journey's end, there met us two such formal and stately rascals, that yet pretended religion and open rebellion ever painted: they were the hopes and guide of the honourable family, viz. the eldest son, and the chiefest clerk, rogues-and hereby hangs a tale. -This gentlewoman, I told thee, I kept civil, by desiring her to say nothing, is a rich heiress of one that died in the king's service, and left his estate under sequestration. This young chicken has this kite snatch'd up, and designs her for this her eldest rascal. Care. What a dull fellow wert thou, not to make love, and rescue her! Blunt. I'll woo no woman. Care. Wouldst thou have them court thee? A soldier, and not love a siege !--How now, whe art thou? Enter TEAGUE. Teague. A poor Irishman, Heav'n save me, and save all your three faces; give me a thirteen. Care. I see thou wouldst not lose any thing for want of asking. Teague. I cann't afford it. Care. Here, I am pretty near; there's sixpence for thy confidence. Teague. By my troth it is too little; give me another sixpence half-penny, and I'll drink your healths. Care. How long hast thou been in England? Teague. Ever since I came here, and longer too, faith. Care. What hast thou done since thou cam'st into England? Teague. Serv'd Heaven, and St Patrick, and my good sweet king, and my good sweet master; yes, indeed. Care. And what dost thou do now? Teague. Cry for them every day, upon my soul. Care. Why, where's thy master? Teague. He's dead, mastero, and left poor Teague. Upon my soul, he never served poor Teague so before in all his life. Care. Who was thy master? Teague. E'en the good colonel Danger. Teague. Why, 'tis done by the stars and the planters; and he told me there were no stars for Irishmen. I told him there was as many stars in Ireland as in England, and more too; and if a good master cannot get me, I will run into Ireland, and see if the stars be not there still; and if they be, I will come back, and beat his pate, if he will not then tell me some good look, and some stars. Care. Poor fellow! I pity him: I fancy's he's simply honest.-Hast thou any trade? Teague. Bo, bub bub bo! a trade, a trade! an Irishman with a trade! an Irishman scorns a trade; his blood is too thick for a trade. I will run for thee forty miles; but I scorn to have a trade. Blunt. Alas, poor simple fellow ! Care. I pity him; nor can I endure to see any man miserable that can weep for my prince and friend. Well, Teague, what sayest thou if I will take thee? Teague. Why, I say you could not do a better thing. Care. Thy master was my dear friend; wert thou with him when he was kill'd? Teague. Yes, upon my soul, that I was; and I did howl over him, and I ask'd him why he died, but the devil burn the word he said to me; and I'faith I staid kissing his sweet face, 'till the rogues came upon me, and took all away from me, and left me nothing but this mantle: I have never any victuals, neither, but a little snuff. Care. Come, thou shalt live with me; love me as thou didst thy master. Teague. That I will, if you will be good to poor Teague. Care. Now, to our business; for I came but last night myself; and the licutenant and I were just going to seek a solicitor. Blunt. One may serve us all; what say you, lieutenant; can you furnish us? Lieu. Yes, I think I can help you to plough with a heifer of their own. Care. Now I think on't, Blunt, why didst thou not begin with the committee-man's cow? Blunt. Plague on her, she lowbell'd me so, that I thought of nothing, but stood shrinking like a dar'd lark. Lieu. But, hark you, gentlemen, there's an illtasting dose to be swallow'd first; there's a cove nant to be taken. Teague. Well, what is that covenant? By my soul I will take it for my new master. Care. Thank thee, Teague.--A covenant, say'st thou? Teague. Well, where is that covenant? Care. We'll not swear, lieutenant. Lieu. You must have no land, then. Blunt. Then, farewell acres, and may the dirt choak 'em. Cure. 'Tis but being reduced to Teague's equipage: 'twas a lucky thing to have a fellow that can teach one this cheap diet of snuff. Teague. Oh, you shall have your bellyful of it. Lieu. Come, gentlemen, we must lose no more time: I'll carry you to my poor house, where you shall lodge: for, know, I am married to a most illustrious person, that had a kindness for me. Care. Pr'ythee, how didst thou light upon this good fortune? Lieu. Why, you see there are stars in England, though none in Ireland. Come, gentlemen, time calls us; you shall have my story hereafter. [Exeunt BLUNT and Lieutenant. Care. Come, Teague: however, I have suit of clothes for thee; thou shalt lay by thy blanket for some time. It may be, thee and I may be reduced together to thy country fashion. Teague. Upon my soul, joy, I will carry thee to my little estate in Ireland. Care. Hast thou got an estate? Teague. By my soul, and I have: but the land is of such a nature, that if you had it for nothing, you would scarce make your money of it. Care. Why, there's the worst on't; the best will help itself. [Exeunt. Enter Mr DAY and Mrs DAY. Mr Day. Welcome, sweet duck; I profess thou hast brought home good company, indeed; money and money's worth: if we can but now make sure of this heiress, Mrs Arbella, for our son Abel. Mrs Day. If we can! you are ever at your ifs; you're afraid of your shadow; I can tell you one if more, that is, if I did not bear you up, your heart would be down in your breeches at every turn. Well, if I were gone-there's another if for you. Mr Day. I profess thou sayest true; I should not know what to do indeed. I am beholden to thy good counsel for many a good thing; I had ne'er got Ruth, nor her estate, into my fingers else. Mrs Day. Nay, in that business too, you were at your ifs. Now, you see she goes currently for our own daughter; and this Arbella shall be our daughter too, or she shall have no estate. Mr Day. If we could but do that, wife! Mrs Day. Yet again at your ifs? Mr Day. I have done, I have done; to your counsel, good duck; you know I depend upon that. Mrs Day. You may, well enough: you find the sweet on't; and, to say truth, 'tis known too well that you rely upon it. In truth, they are ready to call me the committee-man; they well perceive the weight that lies upon me, husband. Mr Day. Nay, good duck, no chiding now, to your counsel. but Mrs Day. In the first place, (observe how I lay a design in politics,) d'ye mark? counterfeit me a letter from the king, where he shall offer you great matters to serve him and his interest under-hand. Very good; and in it let him remember his kind love and service to me. This will make 'em look about 'em, and think you somebody. Then promise them, if they'll be true friends to you, to live and die with them, and refuse all great offers; then, whilst 'tis warm, get the composition of Arbella's estate into your own power, upon your design of marrying her to Abel. Mr Day. Excellent. Mrs Day. Mark the luck on't too; their names sound alike; Abel and Arbella, they are the same to a trifle; it seemeth a providence. Mr Day. Thou observest right, duck, thou canst see as far into a millstone as another. Mrs Day. Pish! do not interrupt me. Mr Day. I do not, good duck, I do not. Mrs Day. You do not, and yet you do; you put me off from the concatenation of my discourse. Then, as I was saying, you may intimate to your honourable fellows, that one good turn deserves another. That language is understood amongst you, I take it, ha? Mr Day. Yes, yes, we use those items often. Mrs Day. You do not, and yet you do. By this means get her composition put wholly into your hands; and then, no Abel, no land--But, in the mean time, I would have Abel do his part Mr Day. Ay, and so she is, duck; I always thought so. Mrs Day. You thought so, when I told you I had thought on't first.-Let me see--It shall be so; we'll set her to instruct Abel, in the first place, and then to incline Arbella; they are hand and glove; and women can do much with one another. Mr Day. Thou hast hit upon my own thoughts. Mrs Day. Pray, call her in; you thought of that too, did you not? Mr Day. I will, duck. Ruth! why, Ruth! Ruth. Your pleasure, sir? Mr Day. Nay, 'tis my wife's desire, that— Mrs Day. Well, if it be your wife's, she can best tell it herself, I suppose. D'ye hear, Ruth; you may do a business that may not be the worse for you. You know I use but few words. Ruth. What does she call a few? [Aside. Mrs Day. Look you now, as I said, to be short, and to the matter; my husband and I do design this Mrs Arbella for our son Abel, and the young fellow is not forward enough. You conceive? Pr'ythee, give him a little instructions how to demean himself, and in what manner to speak, which we call address, to her; for women best know what will please women. Then, work on Arbella on the other side; work, I say, my poor girl; no more, but so. You know my custom is to use but few words. Much may be said in a little you sha'n't repent it. Mr Day. And I say something too, Ruth. Mrs Day. What need you? Don't you see it all said already to your hand? What sayest thou, girl? Ruth. I shall do my best-I would not lose the sport for more than I'll speak of. [Aside. Mrs Day. Go, call Abel, good girl. [Exit RUTH.] By bringing this to pass, husband, we shall secure ourselves, if the king should come; you'll be hang'd else. Mr Day. Oh, good wife, let's secure ourselves by all means. There's a wise saying: 'Tis good to have a shelter against every storm. I remember that. Mrs Day. You may well, when you have heard me say it so often. Enter RUTH with ABEL. Mrs Day. Pray hold your peace, and give every body leave to tell their own tale-D'ye hear, son Abel, I have formerly told you that Arbella would be a good wife for you: a word's enough to the wise some endeavours must be used, and you must not be deficient. I have spoken to your sister Ruth, to instruct you what to say, and how to carry yourself; observe her directions, as you'll answer the contrary; be confident, and put home. Ha, boy, hadst thou but thy mother's pate! Well, 'tis but a folly to talk of that that cannot be! Be sure you follow your sister's directions. Mr Day. Be sure, boy.-Well said, duck, I say. | for your mistress; I'll warrant you the town's [Exeunt Mr and Mrs DAY. Ruth. Now, brother Abel. Abel. I have not known her a week yet. Abel. Must I go apace, or softly? Ruth. O, gravely, by all means, as if you were loaded with weighty considerations-so-Very well Now, to apply our prescription. Suppose, now, that I were your mistress, Arbella, and met you by accident-Keep your posture-so-and when you come just to me, start like a horse that has spy'd something on one side of him, and give a little gird out of the way, declaring that you did not see her before, by reason of your deep contemplations. Then you must speak. Let's hear. Abel. Save you, mistress. Ruth. O, fie, man! you should begin thus: Pardon, mistress, my profound contemplations, in which I was so buried that I did not see you : -and then, as she answers, proceed. I know what she'll say, I am so used to her. Abel. This will do well, if I forget it not. Abel. Pardon, mistress, my profound contemplations, in which I was so hid, that you could not see me. Ruth. Better sport than I expected. [Aside. Very well done, you're perfect. Then she will answer, Sir, I suppose you are so busied with state affairs, that it may well hinder you from taking notice of any thing below them. Abel. No, forsooth, I have some profound contemplations, but no state affairs. Ruth. O, fie, man! you must confess that the weighty affairs of state lie heavy upon you; but 'tis a burthen you must bear; and then shrug your shoulders. Abel. Must I say so? I am afraid my mother will be angry, for she takes all the state matters upon herself. Ruth. Pish! Did she not charge you to be ruled by me? Why, man, Arbella will never have you, if she be not made believe you can do great matters with parliament-men and committeemen: how should she hope for any good by you else in her composition ?. Abel. I apprehend you now; I shall observe. Ruth. 'Tis well; at this time I'll say no more: ut yourself in your posture-so-Now go look our own. Abel. I go. [Exit ABEL. Ruth. Now I have fixed him, not to go off till he discharges on his mistress. I could burst with laughing. Enter ARBELLA. Arb. What dost thou laugh at, Ruth? Ruth. If thou hadst met him right, he had played at hard head with thee. Arb. What dost thou mean? Ruth. Why, I have been teaching him to woo, by command of my superiors; and have instructed him to hold up his head so high, that of necessity he must run against every thing that comes in his way. Arb. Who is he to woo? Ruth. Even thy own sweet self. Arb. Out upon him. Ruth. Nay, thou wilt be rarely courted; I'll not spoil the sport by telling thee any thing before-hand. They have sent to Lilly; and his learning being built upon knowing what most people would have him say, he has told them, for a certain, that Abel shall have a rich heiress; and that must be you. Arb. Must be? Ruth. Yes, committee-men can compel more than stars. Arb. I fear this too late. You are their daughter, Ruth. Ruth. I deny that. Arb. How! Ruth. Wonder not that I begin thus freely with you; 'tis to invite your confidence in me. Arb. You amaze me. Ruth. Pray do not wonder, nor suspectWhen my father, Sir Basil Thoroughgood, died, I was very young, not above two years old: 'tis too long to tell you how this rascal, being a trustee, catch'd me and my estate, being the sole heiress unto my father, into his gripes; and now for some years has confirmed his unjust power by the unlawful power of the times. I fear they have designs as bad as this on you. You see I have no reserve, and endeavour to be thought worthy of your friendship. Arb. I embrace it with as much clearness. Let us love and assist one another.--Would they marry me to this their first-born puppy? Ruth. No doubt, or keep your composition from you. Arb. 'Twas my ill fortune to fall into such hands, foolishly enticed by fair words and large promises of assistance. Ruth. Peace! Enter OBADIAH. Ob. Mrs Ruth, my master is demanding your company, together, and not singly, with Mrs Arbella; you will find them in the parlour. The committee being ready to sit, calls upon my care and circumspection to set in order the weighty matters of state for their wise and honourable inspection. [Exit. Ruth. We come. Come, dear Arbella, never be perplex'd; cheerful spirits are the best bladders to swim with: if thou art sad, the weight SCENE 1. Enter TEAGUE. will sink thee. Be secret, and still know me for no other than what I seem to be, their daughter. Another time thou shalt know all particulars of my strange story. Arb. Come, wench; they cannot bring us to compound for our humours; they shall be free still." [Exeunt. ACT II. Teague. I'faith, my sweet master has sent me to a rascal; I have a great mind to go back and tell him so. He asked me, why he could not send one that could speak English. Upon my soul, I was going to give him an Irish knock. The devil's in them all, they will not talk with me. I will go near to knock this man's pate, and that man Lilly's pate too--that I will: I will teach them prat to me. [One cries books within.] How now, what noises are that? Enter Bookseller. Book. New books, new books! A Desperate Plot and Engagement of the Bloody Cavaliers! Mr Saltmarsh's Alarum to the Nation, after having been three days dead! Mercurius Britannicus, &c. Teague. How's that? They cannot live in Ireland after they are dead three days! Book. Mercurius Britannicus, or the Weekly Post; or, The Solemn League and Covenant. Teague. What is that you say? Is it the covenant you have? Book. Yes; what then, sir? Teague. Which is that covenant? Book. Why, this is the covenant. Teague. Well, I must take that covenant. Book. You take my commodities? Teague. I must take that covenant, upon my soul now. Book. Stand off, sir, or I'll set you further. Teague. Well, upon my soul now, I will take that covenant for my master. Book. Your master must pay me for't then! Teague. I must take it first, and my master will pay you afterwards. Book. You must pay me now Teague. Oh, that I will-[Knocks him down.] Now you're paid, you thief o' the world. Here's covenants enough to poison the whole nation. [Exit. Book. What a devil ails this fellow? [Crying.] He did not come to rob me certainly, for he has not taken above two pennyworth of lamentable ware away; but I feel the rascal's fingers. I may light upon my wild Irishman again, and if I do, I will fix him with some catchpoles that shall be worse than his own country bogs. [Exit Enter Colonel CARELESS, Colonel BLUNT, and Lieutenant STORY. Lieu. And what say you, noble colonels? How, and how d'ye like my lady? I gave her the title of Illustrious, from those illustrious commodities which she deals in, hot waters and tobacco. Care. Pr'ythee, how cam'st thou to think of marrying? Lieu. Why, that which hinders other men from those venereal conditions prompted me to matrimony; hunger and cold, colonel. Care. Which you destroyed with a fat woman, strong water, and stinking tobacco. Lieu. No, faith; the woman conduced but little; but the rest could not be purchased without. Care. She's beholden to you. Lieu. For all your mocking, she had been ruined if it had not been for me. Care. Pr'ythee, make but that good. Lieu. With ease, sir Why, look you, you must know she was always a most violent cavalier, and of a most ready and large faith; abundance of rascals had found her soft place, and perpetually would bring her news, news of all prices; they would tell her news from half-acrown to a gill of hot water, or a pipe of the worst mundungus. I have observ'd their usual rates they would borrow half-a-crown upon a story of five thousand men up in the north; a shilling upon a town's revolting; sixpence upon a small castle, and consume hot water and tobacco whilst they were telling news of arms conveyed into several parts, and ammunition hid in cellars; that, at the last, if I had not married, and blown off these flies, she had been absolutely consumed. Care. Well, lieutenant, we are beholden to you for these hints; we may be reduced to as bad. See where Teague comes. Goodness, how he smiles! Why so merry, Teague? |