The common frailty, love, becomes my shame. Enter to him FIDELIA. Fid. Sir, good sir, generous captain. Man. Pr'ythee, kind impertinence, leave me. Why shouldst thou follow me, flatter my generosity now, since thou knowest I have no money left? If I had it, I'd give it thee, to buy my quiet. Fid. I never follow'd yet, sir, reward or fame, but you alone; nor do I now beg any thing but leave to share your miseries: You should not be a niggard of 'em, since, methinks, you have enough to spare. Let me follow you now, because you hate me, as you have often said. Man. I ever hated a coward's company, I must confess. Fid. Let me follow you till I am none then; for you, I'm sure, will through such worlds of dangers, that I shall be inur'd to 'em; nay, I shall be afraid of your anger more than danger, and so turn valiant out of fear. Dear captain, do not cast me off till you have tried me once more: do not, do not go to sea again without me. Man. Then you shall beg for me. Man. D'ye start? Thinkest thou thou couldst do me any other service? Come, no dissembling honour: I know you can do it handsomely; thou wert made for't: You have lost your time with me at sea; you must recover it. Fid. Do not, sir, beget yourself more reasons for your aversion to me, and make my obedience to you a fault :-I am the unfittest in the world to do you such a service. Mun. Your cunning arguing against it shews but how fit you are for it. No more dissembling. Here, I say, you must go use it for me, to Olivia. Fid. To her, sir? Man. Go, flatter, lic, kneel, promise, any thing to get her for me: I cannot live unless I have her. Didst thou not say thou wouldst do any thing to save my life? And she said you had a Man. Thou to sea! to court, thou fool.-Remember the advice I gave thee.-Thou art a hand-persuading face. some spaniel, and canst fawn naturally! Go, busk about, and run thyself into the next great man's lobby: first fawn upon the slaves without, and then run into the lady's bed chamber; thou may'st be admitted at last to tumble her bed :-Go, seek, I say, and lose me; for I am not able to keep thee: I have not bread for myself. Fid. Therefore I will not go, because then I may help and serve you. Man. Thou! Fid. I warrant you, sir; for, at worst, I could beg or steal for you. Man. Nay, more bragging! Dost thou not know there's venturing your life in stealing? Go, pr'ythee, away: Thou art as hard to shake off as that flattering, effeminating mischief-love. Fid. Love, did you name? Why, you are not so miserable as to be yet in love, sure? Man. No, no.-Pr'ythee away, be gone, orI had almost discover'd my loveand shame: Well, if I had? that thing could not think the worse of me:or if I did?-no- -yes, he shall know it-he shall-but then I must never leave him; for they are such secrets that make parasites and pimps lords of their masters; for any slavery or tyranny is easier than Love's. [Aside.] Come hither, since thou art so forward to serve me.-Hast thou but resolution enough to endure the torture of a secret; for such, to some, is insupportable? Fid. I would keep it as safe as if your dear, precious life depended on't. Man. Damn your dearness. It concerns more than my life,-my honour. Fid. Doubt it not, sir. Fid. But did not you say, sir, your honour was dearer to you than your life? And would you have me contribute to the loss of that, and carry love from you to the most infamous, most false, and— Man. And most beautiful! [Sighs aside. Fid. Most ungrateful woman that ever liv'd; for, sure, she must be so, that could desert you so soon, use you so basely, and so lately too.-Do not, do not forget it, sir, and think Man. No, I will not forget it, but think of revenge: I will lie with her out of revenge. Go, be gone, and prevail for me, or never see me more. Fid. You scorn'd her last night. Man. I know not what I did last night :-I dissembled last night. Fid. Heavens! Man. Be gone, I say, and bring me love or compliance back, or hopes, at least, or I'll never see thy face again; by Fid. O! do not swear, sir; first hear me. Man. I am impatient:-Away:-You'll find me here till twelve. [Turns away. Fid. Sir Man. Not one word, no insinuating argument more, or soothing persuasion: you'll have need of all your rhetoric with her:-go, strive to alter her, not me; be gone. [Exit MAN. at the end of the stage. Manet FIDELIA. Fid. Should I discover to him now my sex, And lay before him his strange cruelty, 'Twould but incense it more.-No, 'tis not time. Man. And do not discover it, by too much For his love must I then betray my own. Were ever Love or Chance, till now, severe, [Exit FIDELIA. Enter Widow BLACKACRE in the middle of half a dozen Lawyers, whisper'd to by a Fellow in black; JERRY BLACKACRE following the Crowd. Wid. Offer me a reference, you saucy company you! D'ye know who you speak to? Art thou a solicitor in Chancery, and offer a reference? A pretty fellow! Mr Serjeant Ploddon, here's a fellow has the impudence to offer me a reference. Serj. Plod. Who's that has the impudence to offer a reference within these walls Wid. Nay, for a splitter of causes to do't! Serj. Plod. No, madam, to a lady learned in the law, as you are, the offer of a reference were to impose upon you. Wid. No, no, never fear me for a reference, Mr Serjeant. But come, have you not forgot your brief? Are you sure you sha'n't make the mistake of Hark you-[Whispers.] Go, then, go to your court of Common Peas, and say one thing over and over again: you do it so naturally, you'll never be suspected for protracting time. Serj. Plod. Come, I know the course of the court, and your business. [Exit Serj. PLOD. Wid. Let's see, Jerry:-Where are my minutes? Come, Mr Quaint, pray go talk a great deal for me in the Chancery: let your words be easy and your sense hard; my cause requires it: Branch it bravely, and deck my cause with flowers, that the snake may lie hidden. Go, go, and be sure you remember the decree of my lord-chancellor,-tricesimo quart' of the queen. Quaint. I will, as I see cause, extenuate or amplify matter of fact; baffle truth with impudence; answer exceptions with questions, though never so impertinent; for reasons give them words; for law and equity, tropes and figures; and so relax and enervate the sinews of their argument with the oil of my eloquence:-But when my lungs can reason no longer, and not being able to say any thing more for our cause, say every thing of our adversary; whose reputation, though never so clear and evident in the eye of the world, yet, with sharp invectives— Wid. Alias Billingsgate. Quaint. With poignant and sour invectives, I say, I will deface, wipe out, and obliterate his fair reputation. even as a record with the juice of lemons; and tell such a story, (for, the truth on't is, all that we can do for our client, in Chancery, is telling a story,) a fine story, a long story, such a story Wid. Go, save thy breath for the cause; talk at the bar, Mr Quaint. You are so copiously fluent, you can weary any one's ears sooner than your own tongue. Go, weary our adversary's counsel and the court: Go; thou art a fine-spoken person. Adad, I shall make thy wife jealous of me, if you can but court the court into a decree for us. Go, get you gone.-RememberWhispers.] [Exit QUAINT.] Come, Mr Blunder, pray bawl soundly for me at the King's Bench; bluster, sputter, question, cavil; but be sure your court, and then you do my business. Talk what argument be intricate enough to confound the still; for your own noise will secure your sense you will, but be sure your tongue never stand from censure: 'tis like coughing or hemming when one has got the belly-ache, which stifles the unmannerly noise. Go, dear rogue, and succeed, and I'll invite thee, ere it be long, to more souz'd venison. Blund. I'll warrant you, after your verdict, your judgment shall not be arrested upon if's and and's. Wid. Come, Mr Petulant, let me give you some new instructions for our cause in the Exchequer:Are the barons set? Pet. Yes: no: may be they are: may be they are not what know I? what care I? Wid. Hey-day! I wish you would but snap up the counsel on t'other side, anon, at the bar, as much, and have a little more patience with me, that I might instruct you a little better. Pet. You instruct me! What is my brief for, mistress? Wid. Ay, but you seldom read your brief but at the bar, if you do it then. Pet. Perhaps I do; perhaps I don't; and perhaps 'tis time enough: pray hold yourself contented, mistress. Wid. Nay, if you go there too, I will not be contented, sir: Though you, I see, will lose my cause for want of speaking, I would not. You shall hear me, and shall be instructed.-Let's see your brief. Pet. Send your solicitor to me. Instructed by a woman! I'd have you to know, I do not wear a bar gown for nothing. Wid. By a woman! And I'd have you to know, I am no common woman, but a woman conversant in the laws of the land as well as yourself, though I have no bar gown. Pet. Go to, go to, mistress; you are impertinent, and there's your brief for you.-Instruct me! [Flings her breviate at her. Wid. Impertinent to me, you saucy Jack you! You return my breviate, but where's my fee? You'll be sure to keep that, and scan that so well, that if there chance to be but a brass half-crown in't, one's sure to hear on't again: Would you would but look on your breviate half so narrowly. But pray give me my fee too, as well as my brief. Pet. Mistress, that's without precedent. When did a counsel ever return his fee, pray? And you are impertinent and ignorant, to demand it. Wid. Impertinent again, and ignorant to me! Gadsbodikins! you puny upstart in the law, to use me so you green bag carrier, you murderer of unfortunate causes, the clerk's ink is scarce off of your fingers: you that newly come from lamp-blacking the judges shoes, and are not fit to wipe mine, you call me impertinent and ignorant! I would give thee a cuff on the ear, sitting the courts, it were ignorant. Marry gep! if it had not been for me, thou hadst been yet but a hearing counsel at the bar. [Exit PETULANT. Enter Mr BUTTONGOWN, crossing the Stage in haste. Mr Buttongown, Mr Buttongown, whither so fast? What won't you stay till we are heard? Butt. I cannot, Mrs Blackacre; I must be at the council; my lord's cause stays there for me. Wid. And mine suffers here. Butt. I cannot help it. Wid. I'm undone. Butt. What's that to me? Wid. Consider the five pound fee, if not my cause that was something to you. Butt. Away, away; pray be not so troublesome, mistress; I must be gone. Wid. Nay, but consider a little! I am your old client, my lord but a new one; or, let him be what he will, he will hardly be a better client to you than myself: I hope you believe I shall be in law as long as I live? therefore am no despicable client. Well, but go to your lord; I know you expect he should make you a judge one day but I hope his promise to you will prove a true lord's promise: But, that he might be sure to fail you, I wish you had his bond for't. Butt. But what, will you be thus impertinent, mistress? Wid. Nay, I beseech you, sir, stay, if it be but to tell me my lord's case:-come, in shortButt. Nay, then— [Exit BUTTONGOWN. Wid. Well, Jerry, observe, child, and lay it up for hereafter: These are those lawyers who, by being in all causes, are in none; therefore if you would have them for you, let your adversary fee 'em; for he may chance to depend upon them: and so in being against thee, they'll be for thee. Jer. Ay, mother, they put me in mind of the unconscionable wooers of widows, who undertake briskly their matrimonial business for their money, but when they have got it once, let who will drudge for them; therefore have a care of them, forsooth:-there's advice for your advice. Wid. Well said, boy.-Come, Mr Splitcause, pray go see when my cause in Chancery comes on; and go speak with Mr Quillit in the King's Bench, and Mr Quirk in the Common Pleas, and see how our matters go there. Enter Major OLDFOX. Old. Lady, a good and propitious morning to you; and may all your causes go as well as if I myself were judge of them. Wid. Sir, excuse me; I am busy, and cannot answer compliments in Westminster-Hall.-Go, Mr Splitcause, and come to me again, to that bookseller's; there I'll stay for you, that you may be sure to find me. Old. No, sir, come to the other bookseller's: I'll attend your ladyship thither. Wid. Why to the other? [Exit SPLITCAUSE. Old. Because he is my bookseller, lady. Wid. What, to sell you lozenges for your ca tarrh, or medicines for your corns? What else can a major deal with a bookseller for? Old. Lady, he prints for me. Wid. Why, are you an author? Old. Of some few essays: deign you, lady, to peruse them.-She is a woman of parts, and I must win her by shewing mine. [Aside. Enter the Bookseller's Boy. Boy. Will you see Culpepper, mistress; Aristotle's Problems; The Complete Midwife? Wid. No; let's see Dalton, Hughes, Shepherd, Wingate. Boy. We have no law books. Wid. No! You are a pretty bookseller then. Old. Come, have you e'er a one of my essays left? Boy. Yes, sir, we have enough, and shall always have them. Old. How so? Boy. Why, they are good, steady, lasting ware. Old. Nay, I hope they will live.-Let's see.-Be pleas'd, madam, to peruse the poor endeavours of my pen; though I say it, that [Gives her a book. Jer. Pray let me see St George for Christendom, or, The Seven Champions of England. Wed. No, no; give him The Young Clerk's Guide. What, we shall have you read yourself into a humour of rambling and fighting, and studying military discipline, and wearing red breeches! Old. Nay, if you talk of military discipline, shew him my treatise of The Art of Military. Wid. Hold; I would as willingly he should read a play. Jer. O! pray, forsooth, mother, let me have a play. Wid. No, sirrah; there are young students of the law enough spoil'd already by plays: they would make you in love with your laundress, or, what's worse, some queen of the stage, that was a laundress; and so turn keeper before you are of age.-Several crossing the stage.]—But stay, Jer ry, is it not that Mr-what d'ye call him, that goes there; he that offer'd to sell me a suit in Chancery for five hundred pounds; for a hundred down, and only paying the clerk's fees? Jer. Ay, forsooth, 'tis he. Wid. Then stay here, and have a care of the bags, whilst I follow him:-have a care of the bags, I say. Jer. And do you have a care, forsooth, of the statute against Champertee, I say. [Exit Widow. Enter FREEMAN to them. Free. So, there's a limb of my widow, which was wont to be inseparable from her: she cann't be far.-[Aside.]-How now, my pretty son-in law that shall be, where's my widow? Jer. My mother, but not your widow, will be forth-coming presently. Free. Your servant, major:-What, are you buy ing furniture for a little sleeping closet, which you miscal a study? For you do only by your books, as by your wenches, bind 'em up neatly, and make them fine, for other people to use 'em; and your bookseller is properly your upholsterer; for he furnishes your room, rather than your head. Old. Well, well, good sea-lieutenant, study you your compass; that's more than your head can deal with. I will go find out the widow, to keep her out of his sight, or he'll board her whilst I am treating a peace. [Aside. [Exit OLDFOX. Manent FREEMAN, JERRY. Jer. Nay, pr'ythee, friend, now let me have but The Seven Champions, you shall trust me no longer than till my mother's Mr Splitcause comes; for I hope he'll lend me wherewithal to pay for't. Free. Lend thee! Here, I'll pay him.-Do you want money, squire? I'm sorry a man of your estate should want money. Jer. Nay, my mother will ne'er let me be at age: And till then, she says Free. At age! Why, you are at age already to have spent an estate, man: there are younger than you have kept their women this three years, have had half a dozen claps, and lost as many thousand pounds at play. Jer. Ay, they are happy sparks: nay, I know some of my school-fellows, who, when we were at school, were two years younger than me, but now, I know not how, are grown men before me, and go where they will, and look to themselves: but my curmudgeonly mother won't allow me wherewithal to be a man of myself with. Free. Why, there 'tis : I knew your mother was in fault: Ask but your school-fellows what they did to be men of themselves. Jer. Why, I know they went to law with their mothers; for they say there's no good to be done upon a widow mother till one goes to law with her: but mine is as plaguy a lawyer as any's of our inn. Then would she marry too, and cut down my trees. Now I should hate, man, to have my father's wife kiss'd, and slapt, and t'other thing too, (you know what I mean,) by another man: and our trees are the purest, tall, even, shady twigs, by my fay. dow mother to her poor child as any's in Eng land: she won't as much as let one have sixpence in one's pocket to see a motion, or the dancing of the ropes, or Free. Come, you sha'n't want money: there's gold for you. Jer. O Lord, sir, two guineas! D'ye lend me this? Is there no trick in't? Well, sir, I'll give you bond for my security. Free. No, no; thou hast given me thy face for security: and any body would swear thou dost not look like a cheat. You shall have what you will of me; and if your mother will not be kinder to you, come to me, who will. Jer. By my fay, he's a curious, fine gentleman![Aside.] But will you stand by one? Free. If you can be resolute. Jer. Can be resolv'd! Gad, if she gives me but à cross word, I'll leave her to-night, and come to you. But, now I have got money, I'll go to Jack of all Trades, at t'other end of the Hall, and buy the neatest, purest things Free. And I'll follow the great boy, and my blow at his mother:-Steal away the calf, and the cow will follow you. [Exit JERRY, followed by FREEMAN. Enter, on the other side, MANLY, Widow BLACKACRE, and OLDFOX. Man. Damn your cause; cann't you lose it without me? which you are like enough to do, if it be, as you say, an honest one: I will suffer no longer for't. Wid. Nay, captain, I tell you, you are my prime witness, and the cause is just now coming on, Mr Splitcause tells me. Lord! methinks you should take a pleasure in walking here, as half, you see, now do; for they have no business here, I assure you. Man. Yes, but I'll assure you, then, their business is to persecute me: but d'ye think I'll stay any longer, to have a rogue, because he knows my name, pluck me aside, and whisper a newsbook secret to me with a stinking breath? A second come piping angry from the court, and sputter in my face his tedious complaint against it? A third law-coxcomb, because he saw me once at a reader's dinner, come and put me a long lawcase, to make a discovery of his indefatigable dulFree. Come, squire, let your mother and yourness, and my weary'd patience? A fourth, a most trees fall as she pleases, rather than wear this gown, and carry green bags all thy life, and be pointed at for a tony. But you shall be able to deal with her yet the common way :-Thou shalt make false love to some lawyer's daughter, whose father, upon the hopes of thy marrying her, shall lend thee money and law, to preserve thy estate and trees: and thy mother is so ugly, nobody will have her, if she cannot cut down thy trees. Jer. Nay, if I had but any body to stand by me, I am as stomachful as another. Fee. That will: I'll not see any hopeful young gentleman abus'd. Boy. By any other but yourself. [Aside. Jer. The truth on't is, mine's as arrant a wi barbarous civil rogue, who will keep a man half an hour in the crowd, with a bow'd body, and a hat off, acting the reform'd sign of the Salutation Tavern, to hear his bountiful professions of service and friendship, whilst he cares not if I were damn'd; and I am wishing him hang'd, out of my way :-I'd as soon run the gauntlet as walk t'other turn. Enter to them JERRY BLACKACRE, without his bags, but laden with trinkets, which he endeavours to hide from his mother, and follow'd, at a distance, by FREEMAN. Wid. O, are you come, sir? But where have you been, you ass? And how came you thus laden? Jer. Look here, forsooth, mother: now, here's a duck, here's a boar-cat, and here's an owl. [Making a noise with cat-calls, and other such like instruments. Wid. Yes, there is an owl, sir. Old. He's an ungracious bird, indeed. Wid. But go, thou trangame, and carry back those trangames, which thou hast stol'n or purloin'd; for no body would trust a minor in Westminster-Hall, sure. Jer. Hold yourself contented, forsooth: I have these commodities by a fair bargain and sale; and there stands my witness and creditor. [Aside. Wid. How's that? What, sir, d'ye think to get the mother by giving the child a rattle? But where are my bags, my writings, you rascal ? Jer. O la! Where are they indeed? Wid. How, sirrah? Speak, comeMan. Who can tell her? Freeman, I suppose. [Apart to him. Free. 'Tis true, I made one of your salt-water sharks steal 'em, whilst he was eagerly chusing his commodities, as he calls 'em, in order to my design upon his mother. [Apart to him. Wid. Won't you speak? Where were you, I say, you son of a-an unfortunate woman? O, major, I'm undone :-they are all that concern my estate, my jointure, my husband's deed of gift, my evidences for all my suits now depending! What will be come of them? Free. I'm glad to hear this. [Aside.] They'll be safe, I warrant you, madam. Wid. O, where? where? Come, you villain, along with me, and shew me where. [Excunt Widow, JERRY, OLDFOX. Manent MANLY, FREEMAN. Man. Thou hast taken the right way to get a widow, by making her great boy rebel; for when nothing will make a widow marry, she'll do't to cross her children. But canst thou in earnest marry this harpy, this volume of shrivel'd, blurr'd parchments and law, this attorney's desk? Free. Ay, ay, I'll marry, and live honestly; that is, give my creditors, not her, due benevo lence,-pay my debts. Man. Thy creditors, you see, are not so barbarous as to put thee in prison, and wilt thou commit thyself to a noisome dungeon for thy life? which is the only satisfaction thou canst give thy creditors by this match. Free. Why, is not she rich? Man. Ay, but he that marries a widow for her money will find himself as much mistaken as the widow that marries a young fellow for due benevolence, as you call it. Free. Why, d'ye think I sha'n't deserve wages? I'll drudge faithfully. Man. I tell thee again, he that is the slave in the mine has the least propriety in the ore: You may dig and dig; but if thou wouldst have the money, rather get to be her trustee than her husband; for a true widow will make over her estate to any body, and cheat herself, rather than be cheated by her children or a second husband! Enter to them JERRY, running, in a fright. Jer. O la! I'm undone, I'm undone: my mother will kill me. You said you'd stand by one. Free. So I will, my brave squire, I warrant thee. Jer. Ay, but I dare not stay till she comes; for she's as furious, now she has lost her writings, as a bitch when she has lost her puppies. Man. The comparison's handsome! Jer. O, she's there! Enter Widow BLACKACRE and OLDFOX. Free. [To the Sailor.] Take him, Jack, and make haste with him to your master's lodging, and be sure you keep him up till I come. [Exit JERRY and Sailor. Wid. O my dear writings !-Where's this heathen rogue, my minor? Free. Gone to drown or hang himself. Wid. No, I know him too well; he'll ne'er be felo de se that way; but he may go and chuse a guardian of his own head, and so be felo de ses biens; for he has not yet chosen one. Free. Say you so?" And he sha'n't want one. [Aside. Wid. But, now I think on't, 'tis you, sir, have put this cheat upon me; for there is a saying,take hold of a maid by her smock, and a widow by her writings, and they cannot get from you. But I'll play fast and loose with you yet. If there be law, and my minor and writings are not forth-coming, I'll bring my action of detinue or trover. But first I'll try to find out this guardianless, graceless villain.-Will you jog, major? Man. If you have lost your evidence, I hope your causes cannot go on, and I may be gone?" Wid. O no; stay but a making water while, (as one may say,) and I'll be with you again. [Exeunt Widow and OLDFOX. Manent MANLY, FREEMAN. Free. Well, sure I am the first man that ever began a love-intrigue in Westminster-Hall. Man. No, sure; for the love to a widow generally begins here: And as the widow's cause goes against the heir or executors, the jointurerivals commence their suit to the widow. Free. Well, but how, pray, have you past your time here, since I was forc'd to leave you alone? You have had a great deal of patience. Man. Is this a place to be alone, or have patience in? But I have had patience indeed; for I have drawn upon me, since I came, but three quarrels and two law-suits. Free. Nay, faith, you are too curs'd to be let loose in the world; you should be ty'd up again in your sea-kennel, call'd a ship. But how could you quarrel here? Man. How could I refrain? A lawyer talk'd peremptorily and saucily to me, and as good as gave me the lie. Free. They do it so often to one another at the bar, that they make no bones on't elsewhere. Man. However, I gave him a cuff on the ear; |