by Thomas Otway
Sir Dav. Did you not see the ghost just now?
Sir Jol. Ghost! pr’ythee now, here’s no ghost; whither would you go? I tell you, you shall not stir one foot farther, man; the devil take me if you do. Ghost! pr’ythee, here’s no ghost at all; a little flesh and blood, indeed, there is, some old, some young, some alive, some dead, and so forth; but ghost! pish, here’s no ghost.
Sir Dav. But, sir, if I say I did see a ghost, I did see a ghost, an you go to that; why, sure I know a ghost when I see one. Ah, my dear, if thou hadst but seen the devil half so often as I have seen him!
L. Dunce. Alas, Sir Davy! if you ever loved me, come not, oh, come not near me; I have resolved to waste the short remainder of my life in penitence, and taste of joys no more.
Sir Dav. Alas, my poor child! But do you think there was no ghost indeed?
Sir Jol. Ghost! Alas-a-day, what should a ghost do here?
Sir Dav. And is the man dead?
Sir Jol. Dead! ay, ay, stark dead, he’s stiff by this time.
L. Dunce. Here you may see the horrid ghastly spectacle, the sad effects of my too rigid virtue, and your too fierce resentment —
Sir Jol. Do you see there?
Sir Dav. Ay, ay, I do see; would I had never seen him; would he had lain with my wife in every house between Charing Cross and Aldgate, so this had never happened!
Sir Jol. In truth, and would he had! but we are all mortal, neighbour, all mortal; to-day we are here, to-morrow gone; like the shadow that vanisheth, like the grass that withereth, or like the flower that fadeth; or indeed like anything, or rather like nothing: but we are all mortal.
Sir Dav. Heigh!
L. Dunce. Down, down that trap-door, it goes into a bathing-room; for the rest, leave it to my conduct.
[Beaugard descends.
Sir Jol. ’Tis very unfortunate that you should run yourself into this premunire, Sir Davy.
Sir Dav. Indeed, and so it is.
Sir Jol. For a gentleman, a man in authority, a person in years, one that used to go to church with his neighbours.
Sir Dav. Every Sunday truly, Sir Jolly.
Sir Jol. Pay scot and lot to the parish.
Sir Dav. Six pounds a year to the very poor, without abatement or deduction: ’tis very hard if so good a commonwealth’s-man should be brought to ride in a cart at last, and be hanged in a sunshiny morning to make butchers and suburb apprentices a holiday; I’ll e’en run away.
Sir Jol. Run away! why then your estate will be forfeited; you’ll lose your estate, man.
Sir Dav. Truly you say right, friend; and a man had better be half-hanged than lose his estate, you know.
Sir Jol. Hanged! no, no, I think there’s no great fear of hanging neither: what, the fellow was but a sort of an unaccountable fellow, as I heard you say.
Sir Dav. Ay, ay, pox on him, he was a soldierly sort of a vagabond; he had little or nothing but his sins to live upon: if I could have had but patience, he would have been hanged within these two months, and all this mischief saved.
[Beaugard rises up like a ghost at the trap-door, just before Sir Davy.
O Lord! the devil, the devil, the devil! [Falls upon his face.
Sir Jol. Why, Sir Davy, Sir Davy, what ails you? what’s the matter with you?
Sir Dav. Let me alone, let me lie still; I will not look up to see an angel; oh-h-h!
L. Dunce. My dear, why do you do these cruel things to affright me? Pray rise and speak to me.
Sir Dav. I dare not stir; I saw the ghost again just now.
L. Dunce. Ghost again! what ghost? where?
Sir Dav. Why, there! there!
Sir Jol. Here has been no ghost.
Sir Dav. Why, did you see nothing then?
L. Dunce. See nothing! no, nothing but one another.
Sir Dav. Then I am enchanted, or my end is near at hand, neighbour; for Heaven’s sake, neighbour, advise me what I shall do to be at rest.
Sir Jol. Do! why, what think you if the body were removed?
Sir Dav. Removed! I’d give a hundred pound the body were out of my house; may be then the devil would not be so impudent.
Sir Jol. I have discovered a door-place in the wall betwixt my lady’s chamber and one that belongs to me; if you think fit we’ll beat it down, and remove this troublesome lump of earth to my house.
Sir Dav. But will you be so kind?
Sir Jol. If you think it may by any means be serviceable to you.
Sir Dav. Truly, if the body were removed, and disposed of privately, that no more might be heard of the matter — I hope he’ll be as good as his word. [Aside.
Sir Jol. Fear nothing, I’ll warrant you; but in troth I had utterly forgot one thing, utterly forgot it.
Sir Dav. What’s that?
Sir Jol. Why, it will be absolutely necessary that your lady stayed with me at my house for one day, till things were better settled.
Sir Dav. Ah, Sir Jolly! whatever you think fit; anything of mine that you have a mind to; pray take her, pray take her, you shall be very welcome. Hear you, my dearest, there is but one way for us to get rid of this untoward business, and Sir Jolly has found it out; therefore by all means go along with him, and be ruled by him; and whatever Sir Jolly would have thee do, e’en do it: so Heaven prosper ye, good-bye, good-bye, till I see you again. [Exit.
Sir Jol. This is certainly the civilest cuckold in city, town, or country.
Beau. Is he gone? [Steps out.
L. Dunce. Yes, and has left poor me here.
Beau. In troth, madam, ’tis barbarously done of him, to commit a horrid murder on the body of an innocent poor fellow, and then leave you to stem the danger of it.
Sir Jol. Odd, an I were as thee, sweetheart, I’d be revenged on him for it, so I would. Go, get ye together, steal out of the house as softly as you can, I’ll meet ye in the Piazza presently; go, be sure ye steal out of the house, and don’t let Sir Davy see you. [Exeunt.
SCENE IV. — Entrance Hall in Sir Davy Dunce’s House.
Enter Sir Jolly Jumble.
Sir Jol. Bloody-Bones!
Enter Bloody-Bones.
Bloody-B. I am here, sir.
Sir Jol. Go you and Fourbin to my house presently; bid Monsieur Fourbin remember that all things be ordered according to my directions. Tell my maids, too, I am coming home in a trice; bid ’em get the great chamber, and the banquet I spoke for, ready presently. And, d’ye hear, carry the minstrels with ye too, for I am resolved to rejoice this morning. Let me see — Sir Davy!
Enter Sir Davy Dunce.
Sir Dav. Ay, neighbour, ’tis I; is the business done? I cannot be satisfied till I am sure: have you removed the body? is it gone?
Sir Jol. Yes, yes, my servants conveyed it out of the house just now. Well, Sir Davy, a good morning to you: I wish you your health, with all my heart, Sir Davy; the first thing you do, though, I’d have you say your prayers by all means, if you can.
Sir Dav. If I can possibly, I will.
Sir Jol. Well, good-bye. [Exit.
Sir Dav. Well, good-bye heartily, good neighbour. — Vermin, Vermin!
Enter Vermin.
Ver. Did your honour call?
Sir Dav. Go run, run presently over the square, and call the constable presently; tell him here’s murder committed, and that I must speak with him instantly. I’ll e’en carry him to my neighbour’s, that he may find the dead body there, and so let my neighbour be very fairly hanged in my stead; ha! a very good jest, as I hope to live, ha, ha, ha! — hey, what’s that?
Watchmen. [Within.] Almost four o’clock, and a dark cloudy morning; good-morrow, my masters all, good-morrow!
Enter Constable and Watch.
Const. How’s this, a door open! Come in, gentlemen. — Ah, Sir Davy, your honour’s humble servant; I and my watch, going my morning-rounds, and finding your door open, made bold to enter, to see there were no danger. Your worship will excuse our care; a good morning to you, sir.
Sir Dav. Oh, Master Constable, I’m glad you�
�re here; I sent my man just now to call you. I have sad news to tell you, Master Constable.
Const. I am sorry for that, sir; sad news!
Sir Dav. Oh, ay, sad news, very sad news truly: here has been murder committed.
Const. Murder! if that’s all, we are your humble servants, sir, we’ll bid you good-morrow: murder’s nothing at this time o’ night in Covent-garden.
Sir Dav. Oh, but this is a horrid, bloody murder, done under my nose; I cannot but take notice of it; though I am sorry to tell you the authors of it, very sorry truly.
Const. Was it committed here near hand?
Sir Dav. Oh, at the very next door; a sad murder indeed. After they had done, they carried the body privately into my neighbour Sir Jolly’s house here; I am sorry to tell it you, Master Constable, for I am afraid it will look but scurvily on his side; though I am a justice o’ peace, gentlemen, and am bound by my oath to take notice of it; I can’t help it.
1st Watch. I never liked that Sir Jolly.
Const. He threatened me t’other day for carrying a little, dirty, draggle-tailed whore to Bridewell, and said she was his cousin. Sir, if your worship thinks fit, we’ll go search his house.
Sir Dav. Oh, by all means, gentlemen, it must be so; justice must have its course; the king’s liege subjects must not be destroyed. — Vermin, carry Master Constable and his dragons into the cellar, and make ’em drink; I’ll but step into my study, put on my face of authority, and call upon ye instantly.
Watchmen. We thank your honour. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. — A Room in Sir Jolly Jumble’s House. A banquet set out.
Enter Sir Jolly Jumble, Beaugard, and Lady Dunce.
Sir Jol. So, are ye come? I am glad on’t; odd, you’re welcome, very welcome, odd, ye are; here’s a small banquet, but I hope ‘twill please you; sit ye down, sit ye down both together; nay, both together: a pox o’ him that parts ye, I say!
Beau. Sir Jolly, this might be an entertainment for Antony and Cleopatra, were they living.
Sir Jol. Pish! a pox of Antony and Cleopatra, they are dead and rotten long ago; come, come, time’s but short, time’s but short, and must be made the best use of; for
Youth’s a flower that soon does fade,
And life is but a span;
Man was for the woman made,
And woman made for man.
Why, now we can be bold, and make merry, and frisk and be brisk, rejoice, and make a noise, and — odd, I am pleased, mightily pleased, odd, I am.
L. Dunce. Really, Sir Jolly, you are more a philosopher than I thought you were.
Sir Jol. Philosopher, madam! yes, madam, I have read books in my times; odd, Aristotle, in some things, had very pretty notions, he was an understanding fellow. Why don’t ye eat? odd, an ye don’t eat — here, child, here’s some ringoes, help, help your neighbour a little; odd, they are very good, very comfortable, very cordial.
Beau. Sir Jolly, your health.
Sir Jol. With all my heart, old boy.
L. Dunce. Dear Sir Jolly, what are these? I never tasted of these before.
Sir Jol. That? eat it, eat it, eat it when I bid you; odd, ’tis the root satyrion, a very precious plant, I gather ’em every May myself; odd, they’ll make an old fellow of sixty-five cut a caper like a dancing-master. Give me some wine. Madam, here’s a health, here’s a health, madam, here’s a health to honest Sir Davy, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! [Dance.
Enter Bloody-Bones.
Bloody-B. Sir, sir, sir! what will you do? yonder’s the constable and all his watch at the door, and threatens demolishment, if not admitted presently.
Sir Jol. Odds so! odds so! the constable and his watch! what’s to be done now? get you both into the alcove there, get ye gone quickly, quickly; no noise, no noise, d’ye hear? [Exeunt Lady Dunce and Beaugard.] The constable and his watch! a pox on the constable and his watch! what the devil have the constable and his watch to do here?
Enter Constable, Watch, and Sir Davy Dunce.
Const. This way, this way, gentlemen; stay one of ye at the door, and let nobody pass, do you hear? Sir Jolly, your servant.
Sir Jol. What, this outrage, this disturbance committed upon my house and family! sir, sir, sir! what do you mean by these doings, sweet sir? ho!
Const. Sir, having received information that the body of a murdered man is concealed in your house, I am come, according to my duty, to make search and discover the truth. — Stand to my assistance, gentlemen.
Sir Jol. A murdered man, sir?
Sir Dav. Yes, a murdered man, sir. Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, I am sorry to see a person of your character and figure in the parish concerned in a murder, I say.
Sir Jol. Here’s a dog! here’s a rogue for you! here’s a villain! here’s a cuckoldy son of his mother! I never knew a cuckold in my life that was not a false rogue in his heart; there are no honest fellows living but whore-masters. Hark you, sir, what a pox do you mean? you had best play the fool, and spoil all, you had; what’s all this for?
Sir Dav. When your worship’s come to be hanged, you’ll find the meaning on’t, sir. I say once more, search the house.
Const. It shall be done, sir. Come along, friends.
[Exeunt Constable and Watch.
Sir Jol. Search my house! O Lord! search my house! what will become of me? I shall lose my reputation with man and woman, and nobody will ever trust me again. O Lord! search my house! all will be discovered, do what I can! I’ll sing a song like a dying swan, and try to give them warning.
Go from the window, my love, my love, my love,
Go from the window, my dear;
The wind and the rain
Have brought ’em back again,
And thou canst have no lodging here.
O Lord! search my house!
Sir Dav. Break down that door, I’ll have that door broke open; break down that door, I say. [Knocking within.
Sir Jol. Very well done; break down my doors, break down my walls, gentlemen! plunder my house! ravish my maids! Ah, cursed be cuckolds, cuckolds, constables, and cuckolds!
A door is opened and discovers Beaugard and Lady Dunce.
Re-enter Constable and Watch.
Beau. Stand off! by Heaven, the first that comes here comes upon his death.
Sir Dav. Sir, your humble servant; I’m glad to see you are alive again with all my heart. Gentlemen, here’s no harm done, gentlemen; here’s nobody murdered, gentlemen; the man’s alive, again, gentlemen; but here’s my wife, gentlemen, and a fine gentleman with her, gentlemen; and Master Constable, I hope you’ll bear me witness, Master Constable.
Sir Jol. That he’s a cuckold, Master Constable.
[Aside.
Beau. Hark ye, ye curs, keep off from snapping at my heels, or I shall so feague ye.
Sir Jol. Get ye gone, ye dogs, ye rogues, ye night-toads of the parish dungeon; disturb my house at these unseasonable hours! get ye out of my doors, get ye gone, or I’ll brain ye, dogs, rogues, villains! [Exeunt Constable and Watch.
Beau. And next for you, Sir Coxcomb, you see I am not murdered, though you paid well for the performance; what think you of bribing my own man to butcher me?
Enter Fourbin.
Look ye, sir, he can cut a throat upon occasion, and here’s another dresses a man’s heart with oil and pepper, better than any cook in Christendom.
Four. Will your worship please to have one for your breakfast this morning?
Sir Dav. With all my heart, sweetheart, anything in the world, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! this is the purest sport, ha, ha, ha!
Re-enter Vermin.
Ver. Oh, sir, the most unhappy and most unfortunate news! There has been a gentleman in Madam Sylvia’s chamber all this night, who, just as you went out of doors, carried her away, and whither they are gone nobody knows.
Sir Dav. With all my heart, I am glad on’t, child, I would not care if he had carried away my house and all, man. Unhappy news, quoth-a! poor fool, he does not know I am a cuckold, and that anybody may
make bold with what belongs to me, ha, ha, ha! I am so pleased, ha, ha, ha; I think I was never so pleased in all my life before, ha, ha, ha!
Beau. Nay, sir, I have a hank upon you; there are laws for cut-throats, sir; and as you tender your future credit, take this wronged lady home, and use her handsomely, use her like my mistress, sir, do you mark me? that when we think fit to meet again, I hear no complaint of you; this must be done, friend.
Sir Jol. In troth, and it is but reasonable, very reasonable in troth.
L. Dunce. Can you, my dear, forgive me one misfortune?
Sir Dav. Madam, in one word, I am thy ladyship’s most humble servant and cuckold, Sir Davy Dunce, knight, living in Covent-garden; ha, ha, ha! well, this is mighty pretty, ha, ha, ha!
Enter Sylvia, followed by Courtine.
Sylv. Sir Jolly, ah, Sir Jolly, protect me or I’m ruined.
Sir Jol. My little minikin, is it thy squeak?
Beau. My dear Courtine, welcome.
Sir Jol. Well, child, and what would that wicked fellow do to thee, child? Ha! child, child, what would he do to thee?
Sylv. Oh, sir, he has most inhumanly seduced me out of my uncle’s house, and threatens to marry me.
Cour. Nay, sir, and she having no more grace before her eyes neither, has e’en taken me at my word.
Sir Jol. In troth, and that’s very uncivilly done: I don’t like these marriages, I’ll have no marriages in my house, and there’s an end on’t.
Sir Dav. And do you intend to marry my niece, friend?
Cour. Yes, sir, and never ask your consent neither.
Sir Dav. In troth, and that’s very well said: I am glad on’t with all my heart, man, because she has five thousand pounds to her portion, and my estate’s bound to pay it. Well, this is the happiest day, ha, ha, ha!
Here, take thy bride, like man and wife agree,
And may she prove as true — as mine to me.
Ha, ha, ha!
Beau. Courtine, I wish thee joy: thou art come opportunely to be a witness of a perfect reconcilement between me and that worthy knight, Sir Davy Dunce; which to preserve inviolate, you must, sir, before we part, enter into such covenants for performance as I shall think fit.
