SCENE I.-The cobler's house. JOBSON and NELL. Nell. PR'YTHEL, good Jobson, stay with me to-night, and for once make merry at home. Job. Peace, peace, you jade, and go spin; for, if I lack any thread for my stitching, I will punish you by virtue of my sovereign authority. Nell. Ay, marry, no doubt of that; whilst you take your swing at the alehouse, spend your substance, get drunk as a beast, then come home like a sot, and use one like a dog. Job. Nounz! do you prate? Why, how now, brazen-face, do you speak ill of the government? Don't you know, hussy, that I am king in my own house, and that this is treason against my majesty ? Nell. Did ever one hear such stuff! But, I pray you, now, Jobson, don't go to the alehouse to-night! Job. Well, I'll humour you for once; but don't grow saucy upon't; for I am invited by Sir John Loverule's butler, and am to be princely drunk with punch, at the hall place; we shall have a bowl large enough to swim in. Nell. But they say, husband, the new lady will not suffer a stranger to enter her doors; she grudges even a draught of small beer to her own servants; and several of the tenants have come home with broken heads from her ladyship's own hands, only for smelling strong beer in her bouse. Job. A pox on her for a fanatical jade! she has almost distracted the good knight: But she's now abroad, feasting with her relations, and will scarce come home to-night; and we are to have much drink, a fiddle, and merry gambols. Nell. O dear husband! let me go with you; we'll be as merry as the night's long! Lucy. I am sure I always feel her in my bones: if her complexion don't please her, or she looks yellow in a morning, I am sure to look black and blue for it before night. Cook. Pox on her! I dare not come within her reach. I have some six broken heads already. A lady, quotha! a she-bear is a civiler animal. Foot. Heaven help my poor master! this de Job. Why, how now, you bold baggage! would you be carried to a company of smooth-vilish termagant scolding woman will be the faced, eating, drinking, lazy serving-men? no, no, you jade, I'll not be a cuckold. Nell. I'm sure they would make me welcome; you promised I should see the house, and the family has not been here before, since you married and brought me home. Job. Why, thou most audacious strumpet, dar'st thou dispute with me, thy lord and master? Get in and spin, or else my strap shall wind about thy ribs most confoundedly. AIR.-The Twitcher. He that has the best wife, But for her that will scold and will quarrel, Of her meat and her sport, death of him; I never saw a man so altered all the days of my life. Cook. There's a perpetual motion in that tongue of hers, and a damned shrill pipe, enough to break the drum of a man's ear. Enter blind Fiddler, JOBSON, and neighbours. But, Welcome, welcome all; this is our wish! Honest old acquaintance, goodman Jobson! how dost thou ? Job. By my troth, I am always sharp set towards punch, and am now come with the firm resolution, though but a poor cobler, to be as richly drunk as a lord. I am a true English heart, and look upon drunkenness as the best part of the liberty of the subject. But. Come, Jobson, we'll bring out our bowl And ten times a day hoop her barrel, brave boys! of punch in solemn procession; and then for a And ten times a day hoop her barrel. Nell. Well, we poor women must always be slaves, and never have any joy; but you men run and ramble at your pleasure. Job. Why, you most pestilent baggage will you be hooped? Be gone. Nell. I must obey. [Going. Job. Stay! now I think on't, here's sixpence for you; get ale and apples, stretch and puff thyself up with lamb's-wool, rejoice and revel by thyself, be drunk, and wallow in thy own sty, like a grumbling sow as thou art. He that has the best wife, SCENE II. SIR JOHN's house. [Exeunt. Butler, Cook, Footman, Coachman, Lucy, But. I would the blind fiddler and our dancing neighbours were here, that we might rejoice a little, while our termagant lady is abroad; I have made a most sovereign bowl of punch. Lucy. We had need rejoice sometimes, for our devilish new lady will never suffer it in her hearing. But. I will maintain, there is more mirth in a galley, than in our family: Our master, indeed, is the worthiest gentleman-nothing but sweetness and liberality. Foot. But here's a house turned topsy-turvy, from heaven to hell, since she came hither. Lucy. His former lady was all virtue and mildness. But. Ay, rest her soul, she was so; but this is inspired with a legion of devils, who make her lay about her like a fury. song to crown our happiness. [They all go out, and return with a bowl of punch. AIR.-Charles of Sweden. Come jolly Bacchus, god of wine, To destroy our pleasure: Thus, mighty Bacchus, shalt thou be, That, under thy protection, we May enjoy new pleasure. But. The king and the royal family, in a brimmer !— AIR. Here's a good health to the king, For to drink down the sun, Enter SIR JOHN and LADY. Lady. O Heaven and earth! What's here within my doors? Is hell broke loose? What troops of fiends are here? Sirrab, you impudent rascal, speak? Sir John. For shame, my dear!--As this is a time of mirth and jollity, it has always been the custom of my house, to give my servants liberty in this season, and to treat my country neighbours, that with innocent sports they may divert themselves. Lady. I say, meddle with your own affairs; I will govern my own house, without your putting in an oar. Shall I ask leave to correct my own servants? Sir John. I thought, madam, this had been my house, and these my tenants and servants. Lady. Did I bring a fortune to be thus abused, and snubbed before people? Do you call my authority iu question, ungrateful man? Look you to your dogs and horses abroad, but it shall be my province to govern here; nor will I be controuled by e'er a hunting, hawking knight in Christendom. AIR. Sir John. Ye gods! you gave to me a wife, This it is to be married to a continual tempest. Lady. Ye filthy scoundrels, and odious jades! I'll teach you to junket thus, and steal my provisions; I shall be devoured at this rate. But. I thought, madam, we might be merry once upon a holiday. Job. Nounz! what a pox, what a devil ails you? Lady. O profane wretch! wicked varlet! Sir John. For shame! your behaviour is monstrous! Lady. Was ever poor lady so miserable in a brutish husband as I am? I, that am so pious, and so religious a woman! Job. [Sings.] He that has the best wife, Lady. O rogue, scoundrel, villain! [Beats the fiddle about the blind man's head, Fid. O murder, murder! I am a dark man; which way shall I get hence? Oh Heaven! she has broke my fiddle, and undone me and my wife and children. Sir John. Here, poor fellow, take your staff and be gone! There's money to buy you two such; that's your way. [Exit Fiddler. Lady. Methinks you are very liberal, sir ; must my estate maintain you in your profuseness? Sir John. Go up to your closet, pray, and compose your mind. Lady. O wicked man! to bid me pray! Sir John. A man can't be completely curst, I see, without marriage; but since there is such a thing as separate maintenance, she shall tomorrow enjoy the benefit of it. AIR.-Of all comforts I miscarried. That nought but death can set us clear. Were man wary How they marry, We should not be by half so full of misery. [Knocking at the door.] Here, where are my servants? Must they be frighted from me?—Within Lady. Within there!-Where are my sluts? Ye drabs, ye queans-Lights there! Lady. Holiday, you popish cur! Is one day more holy than another? and if it be, you'll be sure to get drunk upon it, you rogue! [Beats him.] You minx, you impudent flirt, are you jig-there-see who knocks. ging it after an abominable fiddle? all dancing is whorish, hussy! [Lugs her by the ears. Lucy. O lud! she has pulled off both my cars. Sir John. Pray, madam, consider your sex and quality! I blush for your behaviour. Lady. Consider your incapacity; you shall not instruct me. Who are you, thus muffled? you buzzard! [She beats them all; JOBSON steals by. Job. I am an honest, plain, psalm-singing cobbler, madam; if your ladyship would but go to church, you might hear me above all the rest there. Lady. I'll try thy voice here first, villain! Enter Servants sneaking, with candles. But. Sir, it is a doctor that lives ten miles off; he practises physic, and is an astrologer: your worship knows him very well; he is a cunning man, makes almanacks, and can help people to their goods again. Enter Doctor. Doc. Sir, I humbly beg your honour's pardon for this unseasonable intrusion; but I am be[Strikes him.nighted, and 'tis so dark that I can't possibly find my way home; and knowing your worship's hospitality, desire the favour to be harboured under your roof to-night. Lady. Out of my house, you lewd conjurer, you magician! Doc. I thank you.-Believe, me, to-morrow you shall be the richest woman in the hundred, and ride in your own coach. Nell. O father! you jeer me. Doc. By my art, I do not. But mark my words; be confident, and bear all out, or worse will follow. -O AIR.-Send home my long-strayed eyes. Dec. Here's a turn!-Here's a change!-Well, if I have any art, ye shall smart for this. [Aside. Sir John. You see, friend, I am not master of Nell. Never fear, sir, I warrant you my own house; therefore, to avoid any uneasi-gemini! a coach! ness, go down the lane about a quarter of a mile, and you'll see a cobler's cottage; stay there a little, and I'll send my servant to conduct you to a tenant's house, where you'll be well entertained. Doc. I thank you, sir; I'm your most humble servant. But, as for your lady there, she shall this night feel my resentment. [Exit. Sir John. Come, madam; you and I must have some conference together. Lady. Yes, I will have a conference and a reformation, too, in this house, or I'll turn it upside down-I will. AIR.-Contented country farmer. Sir John. Grant me, ye powers, but this request, SCENE III.-The Cobler's. NELL, and the Doctor. [Exeunt. Nell. Pray, sir, mend your draught, if you please; you are very welcome, sir. Doc. Thank you heartily, good woman, and to requite your civility, I'll tell you your fortune. Nell. O, pray do, sir; I never had my fortune told me in my life. Doc. Let me behold the lines in your face. Nell. I'm afraid, sir, 'tis none of the cleanest; I have been about dirty work all this day. Doc. Come, come, 'tis a good face; be not ashamed of it; you shall shew it in greater places suddenly. Nell. O dear sir, I shall be mightily ashamed! I want dacity when I come before great folks. Doc. You must be confident, and fear nothing; there is much happiness attends you. Nell. Oh me! this is a rare man! Heaven be thanked! Doc. To-morrow, before sunrise, you shall be the happiest woman in this country. Nell. How! by to-morrow? alack-a-day! sir, how can that be? Doc. No more shall you be troubled with a surly husband, that rails at, and straps you. Nell. Lud! how came he to know that? He must be a conjurer! Indeed my husband is somewhat rugged, and in his cups will beat me, but it is not much. He's an honest pains-taking man, and I let him have his way. Pray, sir, take the other cup of ale. My swelling heart now leaps for joy, Enter JOBSON. Job. Where is this quean? Here, Nell! What a pox, are you drunk with your lamb's-wooll? Nell. O husband! here's the rarest man-he has told me my fortune! Job. Has he so? and planted my fortune, too! a lusty pair of horns upon my head!-Eh? -Is it not so? Doc. Thy wife is a virtuous woman, and thou wilt be happy. Job. Come out, you hang-dog, you juggler, you cheating, bamboozling villain! must I be cuckolded by such rogues as you are? mackmaticians, and almanack-makers! Nell. Prithee, peace, husband! we shall be rich, and have a coach of our own. Job. A coach! a cart, a wheel-barrow, you jade! By the mackin, she's drunk, bloody drunk, most confoundedly drunk!-Get you to bed, you strumpet. [Beats her. Nell. O, mercy on us! is this a taste of my good fortune? Doc. You had better not have touched her, you surly rogue. Job. Out of my house, you villain, or I'll run [Exeunt. AIR.-The spirit's song in Macbeth. Doct. My strict commands be sure attend, Within You must this cobler's wife transform, 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, or is she drunk still? But to his last still labours, Lady. Heyday! what impudent ballad-singing rogue is that, who dares wake ine out of my sleep? I'll have you flead, you rascal! Job. What a pox! does she talk in her sleep? [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, 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 rogue. [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? Lady. Monstrous! I can find no bell to riug. 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, Thou first broke the commandement, 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? husband put me? Lucy! Lettice! Where are Lady. Where am I? Where has my villainous my_queans? maids, too? The conjurer has made her mad as Job. Ha, ha, ha! what, does she call her 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 jadę, '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? dost thou not know me, you rogue? Lady. Why, sirrah, thou impudent villain, Job. Know you! yes, I know you weil enough, and I'll make you know me before I have done with you. Lady. I am Sir John Loverule's lady; how came I here? Job. Sir John Loverule's lady! no, Nell; not quite so bad, neither; that damned stingy, fanatic 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 I waryou, rant you, quean. [He straps her, she flies at him. |