by John Dryden
Lov. Pr’ythee, good magistrate, drink to her, and wipe sorrow from her eyes.
Trice. Right reverend, my service to you in canary. [She drinks after him, and stays at half a glass.
L. Du Lake. ’Tis a great way to the bottom; but heaven is all-sufficient to give me strength for it. [Drinks it up.] Why, God’s blessing on your heart, son Trice! I hope ’tis no offence to call you son? hem! — hem! — Son Loveby, I think my son Trice and I are much of the same years: let me see, son, if nature be utterly extinct in you: Are you ticklish, son Trice? [Tickles him.
Trice. Are you ticklish, Mother Du Lake?
[Tickles her sides. She falls off her chair; he falls off his to her; they roll one over the other.
Lov. I would have all London now show me such another sight of kindness in old age. [They help each other up.] Come, a dance, a dance; call for your clerk, Justice; he shall make one, in sign of amity. Strike up, fidlers!
[They dance a round dance, and sing the tune.
Enter ISABELLA and CONSTANCE.
Isa. Are you at that sport, i’faith? Have among you, blind harpers. [She falls into the dance.
[At the dance’s ending, LOVEBY sees CONSTANCE.
Trice. Is she come? A pox of all honest women at such a time!
Lov. If she knows who these are, by this light, I am undone.
Const. Oh, servant! I come to mind you of your promise. Come, produce my hundred pounds; the time’s out I set you.
Lov. Not till dark night, upon my reputation! I have not yet spoke with the gentleman in the black pantaloons; you know he seldom walks abroad by day-light. Dear madam, let me wait on you to your coach; and, if I bring it not within this hour, discard me utterly.
Const. You must give me leave to salute the company. What are they?
Lov. Persons of quality of my acquaintance; but I’ll make your excuse to ‘em.
Const. Nay, if they are persons of quality, I shall be rude to part from ‘em so abruptly.
Lov. Why so? — the devil owed me a shame; and now he has paid me. I must present ‘em, whate’er come on’t. [Aside.] — This, madam, is my Lady Du Lake — the Lady Springwell — the Lady Hoyden.
[She and ISABELLA salute them.
Isa. What a whiff was there came from my Lady Hoyden; and what a garlic breath my Lady Springwell had!
Trice. Ha, ha, ha, ha!
Lov. Do not betray me, Justice; if you do — [Aside.
Isa. Oh, are you thereabouts, sir? then I smell a rat, i’faith; but I’ll say nothing. [Aside.
Const. Ladies, I am an humble servant to you all; and account it my happiness to have met with so good company at my cousin Trice’s.
Trice. Ha, ha, ha!
L. Du Lake. Are these two ladies of your acquaintance, son Loveby?
Lov. Son, quoth a’! a pox of our relation! [Aside.
L. Du Lake. I shall be glad to be better known to your ladyships.
Const. You too much honour your servants, madam.
Isa. How Loveby fidges up and down! In what pain he is! well, if these be not they, they call whores, I’ll be hanged, though I never saw one before. [Aside.
Lov. Will your ladyship please to go, madam?
Const. I must beg the favour of these ladies first, that I may know their lodgings, and wait on them.
L. Du. Lake. It will be our duty to pay our respects first to your ladyship.
Const. I beg your ladyship’s pardon, madam —
L. Du Lake. Your ladyship shall excuse us, madam —
Isa. Trice. Ha, ha, ha!
Low. Ah, devil grin you! [Aside.
Trice. I must go out, and laugh my belly-full.
[Exit TRICE.
Const. But in earnest, madam, I must have no denial; I beseech your ladyship instruct me, where I may tender my devoirs.
L. Du Lake. Since your ladyship commands me, madam, I dare disobey no longer. My lodgings are in St Lucknor’s Lane, at the Cat and Fiddle.
Const. Whereabouts is that lane, servant?
Lov. Faith, madam, I know not that part o’the town. — Lord, how I sweat for fear! [Aside.
Const. And yours, madam, where, I beseech your ladyship?
Whore. In Dog and Bitch yard, an’t please your ladyship.
Whore. And mine in Sodom, so like your ladyship.
Const. How, Loveby! I did not think you would have used me thus?
Lov. I beseech your ladyship, but hear my justification as I lead you.
Const. By no means, sir; that were such a rudeness to leave persons of quality, to wait upon me: Unhand me, sir.
Isa. Ha, ha, ha! — [Exeunt CONST. ISA.
Lov. I am ruined! for ever ruined. Plague, had you no places in the town to name, but Sodom, and Lucknor’s Lane, for lodgings!
L. Du Lake. If any prejudice arise from it, upon my honour, son, ’twas by mistake, and not intended you: I thought she desired to have been admitted of the quality.
Lov. I was curst, when I had first to do with you.
[Kicks them.
L. Du Lake. Well, I thank heaven, that has indued me with such patience.
[Exeunt all but LOVEBY and his Boy.
Lov. I have made a fair hand on’t to-day; — both lost my mistress, and hear no news from my friend below: The world frowns upon me, and the devil and my mistress have forsaken me: My godfathers and godmothers have promised well for me: Instead of renouncing them, they have renounced me.
Boy. Sir, I saw my Lady Constance smile as she went out: I am confident she’s angry but from the teeth outwards: you might easily make fair weather with her, if you could get the money you promised her, but there’s the devil —
Lov. Where is he, boy? shew me him quickly.
Boy. Marry, God bless us! I mean, sir, there’s the difficulty.
Lov. Damned rogue, to put me in hope so —
Enter BIBBER at the other end.
Lov. Uds so, look where Bibber is: Now I think on’t, he offered me a bag of forty pounds, and the lease of his house yesterday: But that’s his pocky humour; when I have money, and do not ask him, he will offer it; but when I ask him, he will not lend a farthing. — Turn this way, sirrah, and make as though we did not see him.
Bib. Our gentleman, I think, a-talking with his boy there.
Lov. You understand me? —
Boy. I warrant you, sir.
Lov. No news yet; what an unlucky rascal ’tis! if the rogue should hereafter be reduced to the raiment of his own shreds, I should not pity him.
Bib. How’s this!
Lov. Now is this rascal hunting after jests, to make himself the greatest to all that know him.
Bib. This must be me.
Boy. I can hear neither tale nor tidings of him: I have searched him in all his haunts; amongst his creditors; and in all companies where they are like to break the least jest. I have visited the coffee-houses for him; but among all the news there, I heard none of him.
Bib. Good, i’ faith.
Lov. Where’s the warrant? I’ll put in my own name, since I cannot find him.
Boy. Sir, I gave it a scrivener at next door, because I could not write, to fill up the blank place with Mr Bibber’s name.
Lov. What an unlucky vermin ’tis! now, for an hundred pound, could I have gratified him with a waiter’s place at the custom-house, that had been worth to him an hundred pound a-year upon the nail.
Bib. Could you so, could you so, sir? give me your hand, and I thank you heartily, Mr Loveby.
Lov. Art thou honest Will? faith, ’tis not worth thy thanks, till it be done: I wish I had the money for thee.
Bib. How much is’t, sir?
Lov. An hundred pounds would do it.
Bib. Let me see: forty, I have already by me; take that in part, sir; — and that, and the lease of my house, would over-do it.
Lov. By all means thy lease, Will: ne’er scruple at that; hang a piece of parchment, and two bits of soft wax! thou shalt do’t, thou shalt, boy.
Bib. Why, then I will, sir:
— But stay, stay: now I think on’t, Frances has one hundred and twenty pieces of old grandam-and-aunt gold left her, that she would never let me touch: if we could get that, Mr Loveby! but she’ll never part with it.
Lov. Tis but saying the place is for her; a waiting woman’s place in the custom-house: Boy, go, and tell her on’t immediately. [Exit Boy
Bib. Hold a little; she has been very desirous to get a place in court, that she might take place as the queen’s servant.
Lov. She shall have a dresser’s place, if thou’lt keep counsel. The worst on’t is, I have never a warrant ready.
Bib. ’Tis all one for that, sir; she can neither write nor read; ’tis but my telling her ’tis a warrant, and all’s well. I can’t but laugh to think how she’ll be choused.
Lov. And you too: [Aside.] Mum, she’s here, Will.
Enter FRANCES.
Franc. A waiting-woman’s place in the custom-house! there’s news for me! thank you, kind Mr Loveby; you have been instrumental, I hear, of my preferment.
Lov. No, ’tis a dresser’s place at court, landlady.
Franc. O gemini! that’s better news.
Bib. Aye, but you must make haste and fetch an hundred pieces: I can assure you five hundred are bidden for it: And the courtiers are such slippery youths, they are ever for the fairest chapman.
Franc. I’ll fetch it presently; — oh how my heart quops now, as they say: I’ll fetch it presently: Sweet Mr Loveby, if the business can be done, it shall be a good thing in your worship’s way, I promise you: O the father! that it could be done: O sweet father! [Loveby plucks out a paper.
Lov. Here, Mr Bibber, pray put in Madam Bibber’s name into the warrant.
Bib. Madam Bibber! there’s joy! — I must call you wife no more, ’tis Madam Bibber now.
Franc. Pray read it, Mr Bibber.
Bib. An order for the admission of the illustrious lady, Madam Bibber, into her majesty’s service.
Franc. Pray give me the paper, I’ll have nobody touch it but myself; I am sure my money pays for it, as they say. These are the finest words; Madam Bibber! pray, chicken, shew me where Madam is written, that I may kiss it all over. I shall make bold now to bear up to those flirting gentlewomen, that sweep it up and down with their long tails. I thought myself as good as they, when I was as I was; but now I am as I am.
Lov. Good landlady, dispatch, and bring the money —
Franc. Truly, in the place of a dresser, I dare be bold to say, as they say, I shall give their majesties worships good content: I’ll go fetch it.
[Exit FRANCES.
Bib. We must keep the poor soul in ignorance as long as we can, sir; for when she has once smoked it, I have no other way but to retreat into the body of my janizaries, my journey-men; and never come out into her presence more. Where will you be at nine o’clock, sir, that we may rejoice over our good fortune?
Lov. Call me at my Lord Nonsuch’s house, and I’ll go with you.
Bib. We’ll have the fiddles, and triumph, i’faith.
[Exit BIBBER.
Lov. Lord, how eager this vermin was to cheat himself! Well, I’ll after; I long to finger these Jacobus’s: Perhaps they may make my peace again with my mistress.
[Exit LOVEBY.
SCENE II.
Enter FAILER and NONSUCH. [CONSTANCE and ISABELLA listening.]
Fail. I vow to gad, my lord, Sir Timorous is the most dejected person in the world, and full of regret for what is past. ’Twas his misfortune to be drawn in by such a person as Madam Isabella.
Non. Tis well his estate pleads for him; he should ne’er set foot more within my doors else.
Fail. I’ll be security for him for time to come: Leave it to me to get the licence: All I desire is, your daughter may be ready to-morrow morning.
Non. Well, let me alone with her.
[Exeunt FAILER and NONSUCH.
Isa. You heard the dreadful sound, to-morrow, cousin.
Const. I would not throw myself away upon this fool, if I could help it.
Isa. Better marry a tertian ague than a fool, that’s certain; there’s one good day and night in that.
Const. And yet thou art mad for him thyself.
Isa. Nay, the fool is a handsome fool, that’s somewhat; but ’tis not that; ’tis a kind of fancy I have taken to a glass coach, and six Flanders mares; rich liveries, and a good fortune.
Const. Pr’ythee do not mind me of ‘em; for though I want ‘em not, yet I find all women are caught with gaieties: One grain more would turn the balance on his side; I am so vexed at the wild courses of this Loveby.
Isa. Vexed? why vexed? the worst you can say of him is, he loves women: And such make the kindest husbands, I’m told. If you had a sum of money to put out, you would not look so much whether the man were an honest man, (for the law would make him that) as if he were a good sufficient pay-master.
Enter SETSTONE.
Const. As I live, thou art a mad girl.
Set. She must be used as mad folks are then; had into the dark and cured.
Const. But all this is no comfort to the word, to-morrow.
Isa. Well, what say you, if I put you to-night into the arms of Loveby?
Const. My condition’s desperate, and past thy physic.
Isa. When physic’s past, what remains but to send for the divine? here’s little Nicodemus, your father’s chaplain: I have spoke with him already; for a brace of angels he shall make all sure betwixt you without a license; aye, and prove ten at night a more canonical hour than ten i’the morning.
Const. I see not which way thou can’st perform it; but if thou do’st, I have many admirations in store for thee. [Whispers.
Isa. Step in, and get a cushion underneath your apron.
Const. O, I must be with child, it seems!
Isa. And Loveby shall bring you to bed to-night, if the devil be not in the dice: away, make haste; — [Exit CONSTANCE.] Setstone, be not you far off: I shall have need of you too: I hear my uncle coming — Methinks I long to be revenged of this wicked elder, for hindering of my marriage to-day: Hark you, Setstone — [Whispers;
Set. Tis impossible, madam; ‘twill never take.
Isa. I warrant you; do not I know him? he has not brains enough, if they were buttered, to feed a blackbird — Nay, no replies — out of what I have said, you may instruct my cousin too.
[Exit SETSTONE.
Enter NONSUCH.
Isa. Oh, are you there, sir? Faith, it was kindly done of you to hinder me of a good husband this afternoon: And but for one thing, I would resolve to leave your house.
Non. I’m glad there’s any thing will stay thee.
Isa. If I stay, ’tis for love of my cousin Constance, not of you: I should be loth to leave her in this sad condition.
Non. What condition?
Isa. Nay, I know not; she has not worn her busk this fortnight. I think she’s grown fat o’the sudden.
Non. O devil, devil! what a fright I’m in!
Isa. She has qualms too every morning: ravens mightily for green fruit; and swoons at the sight of hot meat.
Non. She’s with child: I am undone! I am undone!
Isa. I understand nothing of such matters: She’s but in the next room; best call her, and examine her about it.
Non. Why Constance, Constance!
Enter CONSTANCE, as with child.
Isa. Now for a broad-side; turn your prow to him, cousin.
[To her.
Non. Now, gentlewoman! is this possible?
Const. I do not reach your meaning, sir.
Non. Where have you been of late?
Const. I seldom stir without you, sir: These walls most commonly confine me.
Non. These walls can get no children; nor these hangings; though there be men wrought in ‘em.
Isa. Yet, by your favour, nuncle, children may be wrought behind the hangings.
Non. O Constance, Constance! How have my grey hairs deserved this of thee? Who got that belly there?
Const.
You, I hope, sir.
Non. Tell me the truth, for I will know it; come, the story.
Const. The story’s quickly told, sir; I am with child.
Non. And who is the father?
Const. I do not know, sir.
Non. Not know! went there so many to’t?
Const. So far from that, that there were none at all, to my best knowledge, sir.
Non. Was’t got by miracle? Who was the father?
Const. Who got your money, sir, that you have lost?
Non. Nay, Heaven knows who got that.
Const. And, Heaven knows who got this: for, on my conscience, he, that had your money, was the father on’t.
Non. The devil it was as soon.
Const. That’s all I fear, sir.
Isa. ’Tis strange; — and yet ‘twere hard, sir, to suspect my cousin’s virtue, since we know the house is haunted.
Non. ’Tis true, that nothing can be laid, though under lock and key, but it miscarries.
Isa. ’Tis not to be believed, what these villainous spirits can do: they go invisible.
Const. First, they stole away my prayer-book; and, a little after that, a small treatise I had against temptation; and when they were gone, you know, sir —
Isa. If there be such doings, pray heaven we are not all with child. ’Tis certain, that none live within these walls, but they have power of: I have reared Toby, the coachman, any time this fortnight.
Non. Out, impudence! A man with child! why ’tis unnatural.
Isa. Ay, so is he that got it.
Non. Thou art not in earnest?
Isa. I would I were not: — Hark! I hear him groan hither. Come in, poor Toby.
Enter TOBY, the coachman, with an urinal.
Non. How now! what have you there, sirrah?
Tob. An’t please your worship, ’tis my water. I had a spice o’the new disease here i’the house; and so carried it to master doctor.
Non. Well; and what did he say to you?
Tob. He told me very sad news, an’ please you: I am somewhat bashful to speak on’t.
Isa. Out with it, man.
Tob. Why, truly, he told me, the party that owned the water was with child.
Isa. I told you so, uncle.
Non. To my best remembrance, I never heard of such a thing before.
Tob. I never stretch out myself to snap my whip, but it goes to the heart of me.
Isa. Alas, poor Toby!
