صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

You must this cobler's wife transform,
And, to the knight's, the like perform:
With all your most specific charms,
Convey each wife to different arms;
Let the delusion be so strong,

That none may know the right from wrong.
All this we will with care perform,
Within { 1n thunder, lightning, and a storm.
[Thunder.

SCENE V.-Changes to the Cobler's house. JOBSON at work. The bed in view. Job. What devil has been abroad to-night? I never heard such claps of thunder in my life. I thought my little hovel would have flown away; but now all is clear again, and a fine star-light morning it is. I'll settle myself to work. They say winter's thunder bring summer's wonder.

AIR.-Charming Sally.

Of all the trades from east to west,

The cobler's, past contending,
Is like in time to prove the best,
Which every day is mending.
How great his praise who can amend
The soals of all his neighbours,
Nor is unmindful of his end,

But to his last still labours,

Lady. Heyday! what impudent ballad-singing rogue is that, who dares wake me out of my sleep? I'll have you flead, you rascal! Job. What a pox! does she talk in her sleep? or is she drunk still? [Sings. AIR.-Now ponder well, ye parents dear. In Bath, a wanton wife did dwell, As Chaucer he did write, Who wantonly did spend her time In many a fond delight. All on a time sore sick she was, And she at length did die, And then her soul at paradise

Did knock most mightily.

Lady. Why, villain, rascal, screech-owl! who makest a worse noise than a dog hung in the pales, or a hog in a high wind; where are all my servants? Somebody come, and hamstring this [Knocks. Job. Why, how now, you brazen quean! You must get drunk with the conjurer, must you? I'll give you money another time to spend in lamb's-wooll, you saucy jade, shall I?

rogue.

Lady. Monstrous! I can find no bell to ring; Where are my servants? They shall toss him in a blanket.

Job. Ay, the jade's asleep still; the conjurer told her she should keep her coach, and she is dreaming of her equipage. [Sings.

I will come in, in spite, she said,
Of all such churls as thee,
Thou art the cause of all our pain,
Our grief and misery :

Thou first broke the commandement,
In honour of thy wife:
When Adam heard her say these words,
He ran away for life.

Lady. Why, husband! Sir John! will you suffer me to be thus insulted?

Job. Husband! Sir John! what a-pox, has she knighted me? And my name's Zekel too! a good jest, faith!

Lady. Ha! he's gone; he is not in the bed. Heaven! where am I? Foh! what loathsome smells are here? Canvass sheets, and a filthy ragged curtain; a beastly rug, and a flock bed. Am I awake? or is it all a dream? What rogue is that? Sirrah! Where am I? Who brought me hither? What rascal are you?

Job. This is amazing! I never heard such words from her before. If I take my strap to you, I'll make you know your husband. I'll teach you better manners, you saucy drab!

Lady. Oh, astonishing impudence! You my husband, sirrah? I'll have you hanged, you rogue! I'm a lady. Let me know who has given me a sleeping-draught, and conveyed me hither, you dirty varlet?

Job. A sleeping-draught! yes, you drunken jade; ; you had a sleeping-draught with-a-pox to you. What, has not your lambs-wooll done working yet?

Lady. Where am I? Where has my villainous husband put me? Lucy! Lettice! Where are

my queans?

Job. Ha, ha, ha! what, does she call her maids, too? The conjurer has made her mad as well as drunk.

Lady. He talks of conjurers; sure I am bewitched. Ha! what clothes are here? a lindseywoolsey gown, a calico hood, a red bays petticoat! I am removed from my own house by witchcraft. What must I do? What will become of me? [Horns wind without. Job. Hark! the hunters and the merry horns are abroad. Why, Nell, you lazy jade, 'tis break of day! to work, to work! come and spin, you drab, or I'll tan your hide for you! What-a-pox, must I be at work two hours before you in a morning?

Lady. Why, sirrah, thou impudent villain, dost thou not know me, you rogue?

Job. Know you! yes, I know you well enough, and I'll make you know me before I have done with you.

Lady. I am Sir John Loverule's lady; how came Ï here?

quite so bad, neither; that damned stingy, fanaJob. Sir John Loverule's lady! no, Nell; not tic whore, plagues every one that comes near her; the whole country curses her.

Lady. Nay, then, I'll hold no longer; you rogue! you insolent villain! I'll teach you better manners. [Flings the bedstaff, and other things, at him. Job. This is more than ever I saw by her; I never had an ill word from her before. Come, strap, I'll try your mettle; I'll sober you, I warrant you, quean. [He straps her, she flies at him.

Lady. I'll pull your throat out; I'll tear out your eyes! I am a lady, sirrah. O murder! murder! Sir John Loverule will hang you for this; murder! murder !

Job. Come, hussy, leave fooling, and come to your spinning, or else I'll lamb you; you ne'er was so lambed since you were an inch long. Take it up, you jade.

[She flings it down, he straps her.
Lady. Hold, hold! I'll do any thing.
Joh. Oh! I thought I should bring you to
yourself again.

Lady. What shall I do? I can't spin. [Aside.
Job. I'll into my stall; 'tis broad day, now.
[Works and sings.

[blocks in formation]

The cobler has nought to perplex him;
Has nought but his wife
To ruffle his life,

And her he can strap if she vex him.

He's out of the power
Of fortune, that whore,
Since low as can be she has thrust him;
From duns he's secure,
For being so poor,

There's none to be found that will trust him.

Heyday, I think the jade's brain is turned! What, have you forgot to spin, hussy?

Lady. But I have not forgot to run. I'll e'en try my feet; I shall find somebody in the town, sure, that will succour me. [She runs out. Job. What, does she run for it?" I'll after her. [He runs out.

SCENE I.-Changes to SIR JOHN's house.

NELL in bed.

ACT II.

Nell. What pleasant dreams I have had to night! Methought I was in paradise, upon a bed of violets and roses, and the sweetest husband by my side! Ha! bless me, where am I now? What sweets are these? No garden in the spring can equal them: Am I on a bed? The sheets are sarscnet sure! no linen ever was so fine. What a gay silken robe have I got? O Heaven! I dream! Yet, if this be a dream, I would not wish to wake again. Sure, I died last night, and went to Heaven, and this is it.

[blocks in formation]

Let. Is my lady awake? have you had her shoe or her slipper flung at your head yet?

Let. Now's my time! what, to have another tooth beat out!- -Madam!

Nell. What dost say, my dear?- -O father! what would she have!

Let. What work would your ladyship please to have done to-day? Shall I work plain work, or go to my stitching?

Nell. Work, child! 'tis holiday; no work to

day.

mily.

Let. Oh, mercy! am I, or she awake? or do we both dream? Here's a blessed change? Lucy. If it continues, we shall be happy faLet. Your ladyship's chocolate is ready. Nell. Mercy on me! what's that? Some garment I suppose? [Aside.]—Put it on then, sweetheart.

Let. Put it on, madam! I have taken it off; 'tis ready to drink.

Nell. I mean, put it by; I don't care for drink

ing now.

Enter Cook.

Cook. Now go I like a bear to the stake, to know her scurvy ladyship's commands about dinner. How many rascally names must I be called.

Let. Oh, John Cook! you'll be out of your wits to find my lady in so sweet a temper.

Cook. What a devil! are they all mad? Lucy. Madam, here's the cook come about dinner.

Nell, Oh! there's a fine cook! He looks like one of your gentlefolks. [Aside.]-Indeed, honest man, I'm very hungry now; pray get me a rasher upon the coals, a piece of one milk cheese, and some white bread.

Cook. Hey! what's to do here? my head turns round. Honest man! I looked for rogue or ras

Lucy. Oh no, I'm overjoyed; she's in the kind-cal, at least. She's strangely changed in her diet, est humour! go to the bed, and speak to her; now is your time.

as well as her humour. [Aside.]-I'm afraid, madam, cheese and bacon will sit very heavy on

your ladyship's stomach, in a morning. If you
please, madam, I'll toss you up a white fricasee
of chickens in a trice, madam; or what does
your ladyship think of a veal sweetbread?
Nell. E'en what you will, good cook.
Cook. Good cook! good cook! Ah! 'tis a
sweet lady!

Enter Butler.

Oh! kiss me, Chip, I am out of my wits: We have the kindest, sweetest lady!

But. You shamming rogue, I think you are out of your wits, all of ye; the maids look merrily,

too.

Lucy. Here's the butler, madam, to know your ladyship's orders.

Nell. Oh! pray Mr. Butler ! let me have some small beer when my breakfast comes in.

[blocks in formation]

Nell. I well remember the cunning man warned me to bear all out with confidence, or worse he said, would follow. I am ashamed, and know not what to do with all this ceremony: I am amazed, and out of my senses. I looked in the glass, and saw a gay fine thing I knew not; meseen at home, in a piece of looking glass fastened thought my face was not at all like that I have upon the cupboard. But great ladies, they say, have flattering glasses, that shew them far unlike themselves, whilst poor folks glasses represent

But. Mr. Butler! Mr. Butler! I shall be turn-them e'en just as they are.
ed into stone with amazement! [Aside.]-
Would not your ladyship rather have a glass of
Frontiniac, or Lacryme?

Nell. O dear! what hard names are there! but I must not betray myself. [Aside.]-Well, which you please, Mr. Butler.

Enter Coachmau.

But. Go, get you in, and be rejoiced as I am. Coach. The cook has been making his game I know not how long. What, do you banter, too? Lucy. Madam, the coachman.

Coach. I come to know if your ladyship goes out to-day, and which you'll have, the coach or chariot.

Nell. Good lack-a-day! I'll ride in the coach, if you please.

Coach. The sky will fall, that's certain. [Exit. Nell. I can hardly think I am awake yet. How well pleased they all seem to wait upon me! O notable cunning man! My head turns round! I am quite giddy with my own happiness.

AIR. What though I am a country lass.
Though late I was a cobler's wife,
In cottage most obscure-a.

In plain stuff-gown, and short-eared coif,
Hard labour did endure-a:

The scene is changed, I'm altered quite,
And from poor humble Nell-a.
I'll learn to dance, to read, and write,
And from all bear the bell-a.

[Exit.

Enter SIR JOHN, meeting his Servants.
But. Oh, sir, here's the rarest news!
Lucy. There never was the like, sir! you'll be
overjoyed and amazed.

AIR.—When I was a dame of honour.
Fine ladies, with an artful grace,
Disguise each native feature;
Whilst flattering glasses shew the face,
As made by art, not nature;
But we poor folks in home-spun grey,
By patch nor washes tainted,
Look fresh and sweeter far than they,
That still are finely painted.

Lucy. O madam! here's my master just returned from hunting.

[blocks in formation]

Nell. Sir, I shall always be proud to do every thing, that may give you delight, or your family satisfaction.

Sir John. By Heaven, I am charmed! dear creature, if thou continuest thus, I had rather enjoy thee than the Indies. But can this be real? May I believe my senses?

Nell. All that's good above can witness for me, I am in earnest. [Kneels. Sir John. Rise, my dearest! Now am I happy indeed Where are my friends, my servants? call them all, and let them be witnesses of my happiness. [Exit. Nell. O rare, sweet man! he smells all over like a nosegay. Heaven preserve my wits!

Sir John. What, are ye mad? What's the mat-Nell. ter with ye? How now! here's a new face in my family; what's the meaning of this?

But. Oh, sir! the family's turned upside down. We are almost distracted; the happiest people! -Lucy. Ay, my lady, sir, my lady.

Sir John. What, is she dead?

But. Dead! Heaven forbid! O! she's the best woman, the sweetest lady!

AIR.-'Twas within a furlong, &c.

O charming cunning man! thou hast been wondrous kind,

And all thy golden words do now prove
true, I find;

Ten thousand transports wait,
To crown my happy state,

Thus kissed, and pressed,
And doubly blessed

In all this pomp and state:

[blocks in formation]

Enter Lady.

Nell.

[blocks in formation]

Thank you, dear sir!

I vow and protest,
I ne'er was so kissed;
Again, sir!

O may it last for life!

[Kisses her.

What joys thus to enfold thee! What pleasure to behold thee! Inclined again to kiss!

Lady. Was ever lady yet so miserable? I can't Sir John. Again, and again, my dearest ! make one soul in the village acknowledge me; they sure are all of the conspiracy. This wicked husband of mine has laid a devilish plot against me. I must at present submit, that I may hereafter have an opportunity of executing my design. Here comes the rogue; I'll have him strangled; but now I must yield.

Enter JOBSON.

Job. Come on, Nell; art thou come to thyself yet?

Lady. Yes, I thank you, I wonder what I ailed; this cunning man has put powder in my drink, most certainly.

Job. Powder! the brewer put good store of powder of malt in it, that's all. Powder, quoth she! ha, ha, ha!

Lady. I never was so all the days of my life. Job. Was so! no, nor I hope ne'er will be so again, to put me to the trouble of strapping you so devilishly.

Lady. I'll have that right hand cut off for that, rogue. [Aside.]-You was unmerciful to bruise

me so.

Sir John. Nell.

How ravishing the bliss!

I little thought this morning,

'Twould ever come to this.

Enter Lady.

[Da Capo.

[blocks in formation]

Lady. You rascal! take that, sirrah!

[Flings a glass at him. Foot. Have a care, hussy! there's a good pump without; we shall cool your courage for you. Lady. You, Lucy, have you forgot me too, you minx?

Lucy. Forgot you, woman! Why, I never remembered you; I never saw you before in my life. rare Lady. Oh, the wicked slut! I'll give you cause to remember me, I will, hussy.

Job. Well, I'm going to Sir John Loverule's; all his tenants are invited; there's to be feasting and revelling, and open house kept for three months.

Lady, Husband, shan't I go with you?

Job. What the devil ails thee now? Did I not tell thee but yesterday, I would strap thee for desiring to go, and art thou at it again, with a pox?

Lady. What does the villain mean by strapping, and yesterday?

Job. Why, I have been married but six weeks, and you long to make me me a cuckold already Stay at home, and be hanged! there's good cold pye in the cupboard; but I'll trust thee no more with strong beer, hussy. [Exit. Lady. Well, I'll not be long after you; sure I shall get some of my own family to know me; they can't be all in this wicked plot. [Exit.

SCENE III.-SIR JOHN'S.

SIR JOHN and company enter.
DUETT.

Sir John. Was ever man possessed of
So sweet, so kind a wife!

[Pulls her headcloths off. Lucy. Murder! Murder! Help! Sir John. How now! What uproar's this? Lady. You, Lettice, you slut! Won't you know me, neither? [Strikes her.

Let. Help, help!

Sir John. What's to do there?

But. Why, sir, here's a madwoman calls herself my lady, and is beating and cuffing us all round.

Sir John. [To Lady.]-Thou my wife! poor creature! I pity thee! I never saw thee before. Lady. Then it is in vain to expect redress from thee, thou wicked contriver of all my misery.

Nell. How am I amazed! Can that be I, there in my clothes, that have made all this disturbance? And yet I am here, to my thinking, in these fine clothes. How can this be? I am so confounded and affrighted, that I begin to wish I was with Zekel Jobson again.

Lady. To whom shall I apply myself, or whether can I fly? Heaven! What do I see! Is not that I, yonder, in my gown and petticoat I wore

yesterday? How can it be! I cannot be in two places at once.

Sir John. Poor wretch! She's stark mad! Lady. What, in the devil's name, was I here before I came? Let me look in the glass. Oh Heavens! I am astonished! I don't know myself! If this be I that the glass shews me, I never saw myself before.

Sir John. What incoherent madness is this!

Enter JOBSON.

Lady. There, that's the devil in my likeness, who has robbed me of my countenance. Is he here, too?

Job. Ay, hussy; and here's my strap, you quean.

Nell. O dear! I'm afraid my husband will beat me, that am on t'other side the room, there.

Job. I hope your honours will pardon her; she was drinking with a conjurer last night, and has been mad ever since, and calls herself my lady Loverule.

Sir John. Poor woman! take care of her; do not hurt her, she may be cured of this.

Job. Yes, and please your worship, you shall see me cure her presently. Hussy, do you see this?

Nell. O pray, Zekel, don't beat me.

Sir John. Oh, wretch! thou hast undone me! I am fallen from the height of all my hopes, and must still be cursed with a tempestuous wife; a fury whom I never knew quiet since I had her. Doc. If that be all, I can continue the charm for both their lives.

Sir John. Let the event be what it will, I'll hang you if you do not end the charm this in

stant.

Doc. I will this minute, sir; and, perhaps, you'll find it the luckiest of your life; I can assure you, your lady will prove the better for it. Sir John. Hold; there's one material circum. stance I'd know.

Doc. Your pleasure, sir?

Sir John. Perhaps the cobler has-you anderstand me?

Doc. I do assure you, no; for ere she was conveyed to his bed, the cobler was got up to work, and he has done nought but beat her ever since. And you are like to reap the fruits of his labour. He'll be with you in a minute; here he comes.

Enter JOBSON.

Sir John. So, Jobson, where's your wife? Job. And please your worship, she's here at the door, but, indeed, I thought I had lost her

Sir John. What says my love? Does she infect just now; for as she came into the hall, she fell thee with madness, too?

Nell. I am not well; pray lead me in.
[Exeunt NELL and Maid.
Job. I beseech your worship don't take it ill of
me; she shall never trouble you more.

Sir John. Take her home, and use her kindly.
Lady. What will become of me?

[Exeunt JOBSON and Lady.
Enter Footman.

Foot. Sir, the doctor, who called here last night, desires you will give him leave to speak a word or two with you upon very earnest busi

[blocks in formation]

Doc. Lo! on my knces, sir, I beg forgiveness for what I have done, and put my life into your hands,

Sir John. What mean you?

Doc. I have exercised my magic art upon your lady; I know you have too much honour to take away my life, since I might have still concealed it, had I pleased.

Sir John. You have now brought me to a glimpse of misery too great to bear. Is all my happiness then turned into a vision only.

Doc. Sir, I beg you, fear not; if any harm comes of it, I freely give you leave to hang me. Sir John. Inform me what you have done.

Doc. I have transformed your lady's face so. that she seems the cobler's wife, and have char ed her face into the likeness of my lady's last night, when the storm arose, my s veyed them to each other's bed.

into such a swoon, that I though she would never come out on't again; but a tweak or two by the nose, and half a dozen straps, did the busi ness at last. Here, where are you, housewife? Enter Lady.

But. [Holds up the candle, but lets it full when he sees her.]-O heaven and earth! Is this my_lady?

Job. What does he say? My wife changed to my lady?

Cook. Ay; I thought the other was too good for our lady.

Lady. [To SIR JOHN.]-Sir, you are the person I have most offended, and here I confess I have been the worst of wives in every thing, but that I always kept myself chaste. If you can vouchsafe once more to take me to your bosom, the remainder of my days shall joyfully be spent in duty, and observance of your will.

Sir John. Rise, madam; I do forgive you; and if you are sincere in what you say, you'll make me happier than all the enjoyments in the world, without you, could do.

Job. What a pox! Am I to lose my wife thus? Enter Lucy and LETTICE. Lucy. Oh, sir! the strangest need pened! it has amazed! great a swoon, we

[graphic]
« السابقةمتابعة »