Complete Works of Thomas Otway

by Thomas Otway

  Dared.

  One that will Drink, Rant, Whore, and Game, and is as full of Religion as his Worshipful Son here.

  Beaug.

  Hah! —

  [Enter Father.

  Fath.

  Very well, very noble, truly, Son! This is the Care you are pleased to take of my Family! Sit up all Night, Drink, Whore, spend your Estate, and give your Soul to the Devil! A very fine — Hickup — This Aquamirabilis and the Old Hock does not agree with my Stomach.

  Beaug.

  Daredevil, stick to me now, and help me out at a dead lift, or I am lost for ever. — Sir, I hope my being here, has not done you, nor any Friend of yours, an Injury.

  Fath.

  Injury! No, Sir, ’tis no Injury for you to take your swill in Plenty and Voluptuousness — Hickup — while your poor Father, Sirrah, must be contented to drink paltry Sack, with dry-bon’d, old, batter’d Rogues, and be thankful. You must have your fine, jolly, young Fellow, and bonny, buxom, brawny-bum’d Whores, you Dog, to revel with, and be hang’d to you, must you? Sirrah, you Rogue, I ha’ lost all my Money.

  Beaug.

  I am sorry for it, Sir.

  Fath.

  Sorry for it, Sir! — Hickup — Is that all?

  Dared.

  If thou art very poor, old Fellow, take a swinging Dose of Opium, and sleep upon’t; ’tis the best thing in the World for old Gentlemen that have no Money. Or wilt thou be good Company? wilt thou sit down and crack a Bottle, old Boy? Hah?

  Fath.

  Heh! crack a Bottle!

  Dared.

  Ay, crack a Bottle: What sayst thou to that comfortable Proposition?

  Court.

  Come, Sir, here’s your good Health, and to your better Fortune.

  Fath.

  A very honest Fellow, Iack: These are very honest Fellows, What is your name, Friend?

  Dared.

  My name is Daredevil, Friend; of the ancient Family of the Daredevils in the North, that have not had a Church in their Parish, Chaplain in their House, Prayers Publick or Private, or Graces at Meals, since the Conquest.

  Fath.

  Sir, I have heard much of your Family; it is a very ancient Honourable Family: and I am glad to find my Son has made choice of such Noble Acquaintance. — Sir, my Service to you. — I protest, a Cup of pretty Clarret, very pretty Clarret.

  Court.

  And he has top’t it off as prettily, I’ll say that for him.

  Fath.

  Iack, I ha’ lost all my Money, Iack.

  Beaug.

  Have you been robb’d, Sir?

  Fath.

  Robb’d, Sir! No, Mr. Saucy-face, I ha’ not been robb’d, Sir: but I ha’ been nickt, Sir, and that’s as bad, Sir. You are a worthy Person, and I’ll make you my Judge.

  Dared.

  Come along then.

  Fath.

  The Main was Seven, and the Chance Four; I had just Thirty pound upon it, and my last Stake: The Caster threw, nothing came of it; I chang’d his Dice; he threw again, to as little purpose as before.

  Dared.

  Very strange, truly.

  Fath.

  I chang’d his Dice again, he threw again: So he threw, and I chang’d; and I chang’d, and he threw, for at least half an Hour; till at last — Do you mark me? — the Dice powd’ring out of the Box —

  Dared.

  That’s plain.

  Fath.

  One of ’em trips against the Foot of a Candlestick, and up comes two Deuces, two Deuces, Sir, do you hear? And so I lost my Money. No, Sir, I was not robb’d, Sir; but I lost it upon two Deuces: and that was so hard Fortune, that I’ll hold you, or any Man living, Fifty pound to Ten, that he does not throw two Deuces before Seven again.

  Dared.

  Two Deuces afore Seven! Two Deuces are not to be thrown, Sir, not to be thrown.

  Beaug.

  I am glad to hear you are so rich, Sir.

  Fath.

  Rich, quoth ‘a! Prethee be quiet, I am not worth a Shilling, Man. But, Sir, here you are a Lord at large, enjoy your Drink and your Drabs, sit up all Night in the fulness of Iniquity, with worthy Esquire Daredevil of the North here, with a Pox to you; whilst I must be kept without a Shilling in my Pocket. — But, Sir, —

  Beaug.

  Sir, I sent you a Hundred pound yesterday Morning.

  Fath.

  Well, Sirrah, and I have had ill Luck, and lost it all: What then?

  Beaug.

  Sir, to avoid Dispute, shall I make one Proposition to you?

  Fath.

  Heh! With all my Heart. Look you, Iackie-boy, I am not against thy taking thy moderate Diversions, so long as I see thou keepest good Company, neither. But — sneak what Ready-money thou hast into my Hand, and send me the rest of t’other Hundred to my Lodging.

  Beaug.

  Do you think it reasonable, that as often as two Deuces are thrown before Seven, I must advance a Hundred pound to make the Devil’s Bones rattle, Sir?

  Fath.

  Sirrah, you are a Rebel; and I could find in my Heart to cut your Throat. Sir, have you e’er a Father?

  Dared.

  No, Sir.

  Fath.

  No, Sir?

  Dared.

  No, Sir; I broke his Heart long ago, before I came to be at years of Discretion: I hate all Fathers, and always did.

  Fath.

  Oh Lord! Heark you, Sir, What’s that Fellow’s Profession?

  Court.

  Oh, an Atheist, Sir; he believes neither God nor the Devil.

  Fath.

  ‘Sbud, I’ll brustle up to him: Are you an Atheist, Fellow? hoh?

  Dared.

  Yes, Sir, I am an Atheist.

  Fath.

  And what think you will become of you when you die? hoh?

  Dared.

  I shall be buried six Foot under Ground, to prevent stinking, and there grow rotten.

  Fath.

  Oh Lord!

  Dared.

  If I chance to be hang’d, being a lusty Sinewy Fellow, the Corporation of Barber-Chirurgeons, may be, beg me for an Anatomy, to set up in their Hall. I don’t take much care of my self while I am living; and when I am dead, whatever happens to me will never trouble me.

  Fath.

  No more to be said; my Son’s in a very hopeful way to be damn’d, that’s one Comfort. Impudent Rogue! You keep Company with the Devil’s Resident! You converse with Foreign Ministers, and deny your Father a little dirty Money! Fogh, Poltroon!

  Beaug.

  This is very hard, Sir: But if Ten Guinea’s will do you any Service —

  Fath.

  Ten Guinea’s? Let me see; Ten Guinea’s are a pretty little pidling Sum, that’s the truth on’t: But what will it do, Iackie-boy? Serve, may be, to play at Tick-tack in an Afternoon, three Hits up for a Piece, or so; but when will that recover my Hundred agen? Ten Guinea’s! Pox o’ thy Ten Guinea’s. — Well, let me see the Ten Guinea’s though, — let me see ’em a little. — Iackie-boy, Iackle, Iack, — You ha’ drunk damnable hard to night, you rogue; you are a drunken Dog, I believe — Han’t you had a Whore too, Iackie? — eee — You’ll get the Pox, Sirrah, and then — But if thou dost, I know a very able Fellow, an old Acquaintance of mine — Ten Guinea’s, Iackie!

  Beaug.

  There they are, Sir; and long may they last you.

  Fath.

  Make ’em Twenty, Iackie-rogue; — you Plump-cheekt, Merryey’d Rogue, make ’em Twenty, — Make ’em Fifteen then, — Iackie-boy, Iackie, Iack, — Do faith.

  Beaug.

  Upon my Duty, you have stript me, Sir.

  Fath.

  Then do you hear, Friend, you Atheist, that are so free of your Soul? let us see if you dare venture a litte of your Money now — Come.

  [Draws out a Box and Dice.

  Seven’s the Main: I’ll hold you Ten pounds to Two, two Deuces does not come before Seven.

  Beaug.

  At him, Daredevil; Beggar him once more, a
nd then we shall be rid of him.

  Dared.

  Done, Sir, done; down with your Money.

  Fath.

  Here, you Blasphemous Dog. — Dost thou love Hazard?

  Dared.

  Dearly, from the bottom of my Heart, Sir.

  Fath.

  I love thee the better for’t: Come along. — Seven. —

  Dared.

  Right.

  Fath.

  Seven.

  [Throws two Deuces.

  Dared.

  Two Deuces! — You ha’ lost, Sir.

  Fath.

  Dam’ me, Sir, lay your Hand upon my Money!

  Dared.

  Dam’ me, Sir, ’tis my Money; I won it fairly.

  Beaug.

  Now, Courtine, now —

  Court.

  Now look to’t, Atheist.

  Fath.

  Son of a Whore, you lie. Thus to my Hat I sweep the yellow Scoundrels, and draw my Sword in witness th’are my own.

  Dared.

  Nay then I’ll —

  Court.

  Hold, Sirs, no drawing Swords, no Quarrelling.

  Dared.

  I am glad on’t, with all my Heart; for though I am not much afraid of the Devil, I hate a drawn Sword mortally.

  Beaug.

  Good Sir —

  Fath.

  Stand off. — Dogs, Atheists win my Money! — Rascal, — Good morrow.

  Beaug.

  Till next time two Deuces come before Seven, and then I am sure to see or hear from you again infallibly.

  Court.

  How dost thou intend to dispose of this wild, extravagant, old Father of thine, Beaugard?

  Beaug.

  I hope to find him run so far in Debt within this Fortnight, that to avoid the Calamity, he shall be forced to compound with me for his Freedom, and be contented with a comfortable Annuity in the Country; that’s all my hopes of him.

  Court.

  Which he’ll sell in one Quarter of a Year, and return to old London again, for t’other Game at Hazard.

  Beaug.

  No, like a wise Guardian, I’ll take care of the contrary, lay it too far out of his reach, and tie it too fast for him. Why how now, Daredevil? What in the dumps? ’Tis an unruly old Gentleman, but yet he has some Religion in him, Daredevil.

  Dared.

  Yes, Pox on him, to cheat me of my Money. ’Tis well he was your Father, Sir.

  Court.

  Why?

  Dared.

  Had he been my own, by these Hilts I would have saw’d his old Windpipe asunder upon the Spot. Rob me of my Right!

  Court.

  Does he love Fighting so well then? I thought most of your Atheists had not much car’d for that impertinent Exercise.

  Dared.

  ’Tis a little impertinent, that I’ll grant you, for honest Fellows to fall out, squabble, and cut one anothers Throats, to spoil good Company: But when my Honour’s injur’d —

  Beaug.

  Then, I know, thou art implacable. But for a foolish trifling Sum of Money —

  Dared.

  Trash, trash, Dunghil, and Filthiness! I give it away to my Wenches and my Servants; we part with it to every Body, upon all Occasions. He that values Money, deserves never to have the Benefit of it.

  Beaug.

  A very noble Fragment of Philosophy. But, Courtine, the Morning is new risen again, and I have receiv’d Intelligence this Night, by a certain Minister I keep for such Offices, where my poor distressed Widow is held in Durance: If thou thinkest there may be any Hopes for thee upon the Coast I am bound for, let us embarque together, and good Luck attend us.

  Court.

  No, I have other Projects o’ foot: Marriage has crackt my Credit so, that no body that knows my Condition cares to deal with me: Therefore I am resolv’d to set out for New Discoveries, and try how I can thrive where my Name’s a Stranger.

  Beaug.

  What, this Morning!

  Court.

  This very Morning: Fortified with Burdeaux, as I am, will I issue forth; and let all stragling Wives, Widows, and Virgins have a care of their Cargo’s.

  Beaug.

  Nobly resolv’d, and good Fortune guide thee. Thou, Daredevil, wilt not part with me; thou art more a Friend than to leave thy Disciple, when there is good substantial Sinning like to go forward. May be we may do a Murder before we part; something that is very wicked we’ll not fail of.

  Dared.

  With all my Heart; let us fire a House or two, poison a Constable and all his Watch, ravish six Cinder-women, and kill a Beadle.

  Beaug.

  Shall we do all this?

  Dared.

  Do’t! I’ll do’t my self.

  Beaug.

  Thou art the very Spirit of Iniquity.

  [Enter Footman.

  Footm.

  Sir, Captain Beaugard.

  Beaug.

  With me, Friend?

  Footm.

  Sir, there is a Masqu’d Lady, in a Chair, at the Corner of the Street, desires a Word with you instantly.

  Beaug.

  Tell her, I’m her Vassal, and will wait on her this Moment. Courtine, good morrow.

  Court.

  Gone, already?

  Beaug.

  Trading comes in, Friend, and I must mind my Calling, that’s all. Allons, Daredevil.

  Dared.

  Friend, farewell to thee; if either of us are run through the Lungs, or shot in the Head, before we meet again, let us hear from one another out of the Lower World, how matters go there, and what Entertainment they give us.

  Court.

  You shall find me a very civil Correspondent, Sir.

  Dared.

  Farewell.

  Court.

  The same good Wish to you, Sir. Now will I out into the middle of the Street, play at Blind-mans-buff by my self, turn three times round, and catch who I can.

  Scene changes to the Street. Enter Beaugard and Daredevil.

  Beaug.

  This should be the Place, and yet I see no Chair.

  Dared.

  Then let us fall to Mischief.

  Beaug.

  Prethee a little Patience, tho it be a Vertue, dear Temptation.

  Enter another Footman.

  Footm.

  Sir, is your name Captain Beaugard?

  Beaug.

  Yes, my dear Mercury, I am the happy Man.

  Footm.

  Then, Sir, this Letter is for you.

  Beaug.

  Stay till I read it, Friend.

  Footm.

  Sir, it requires no Answer.

  Beaug.

  What Jilts Trick now! — Sir, — to meet us with your Swords in your Hands this Morning, behind the Corner House of — By my Stars, a Challenge from the termagant Sparks that fell upon us last Night. Why, what a deal of Love and Honour have I upon my Hands now? Daredevil, thou canst fight?

  Dared.

  Why, is there any occasion?

  Beaug.

  Only a Challenge, Daredevil, that’s all: See, there’s a Breakfast for thee, if thou hast any Stomach to’t.

  Dared.

  Idle Rogues, Rascals, Hectors! Never mind ’em; hang ’em, these are some hungry Varlets that want Dinners; let us break the next Windows, and never think on’t.

  Enter six Ruffians.

  1 Ruff.

  These are our Quarry; be sure we seise ’em both. Is the Coach ready?

  2 Ruff.

  At the next Corner.

  1 Ruff.

  Fall on then. Sir, you are our Prisoner.

  Beaug.

  Villains! Rogues! Thieves! Murder! Thieves! Rascals, you’ll not murder me?

  1 Ruff.

  Nay, Sir, no noise, no strugling, as you tender your Safety.

  Beaug.

  Daredevil, Dog, Coward, draw thy Sword and rescue me.

  Dared.

  I am terrified, amaz’d; some Judgment for my Sins is fallen upon me; alas, I
am in Bonds too! Have mercy on my Soul, and don’t slay me, Gentlemen.

  Beaug.

  Damnation! Blinded! Rascals, Villains, Ruffians! Murder!

  Dared.

  Oh Daredevil, Daredevil, what will become of thee!

  Enter Theodore and Gratian.

  Theod.

  This Generosity makes good thy Character,

  That thou art the bravest Man, and truest Friend.

  How shall I deserve this from thee?

  Grat.

  I should be unjust, both to my self, and the dear Mem’ry of thy Noble Brother, whose Friendship was so dear to me, should my true Sword be idle in thy Cause. Besides, the Love which I profess to Porcia, tells me a Rival must not tamely carry her.

  Theod.

  She is thy Right: My dying Brother, her soon-forgotten Husband,

  But thy remember’d Friend, with his last Breath thus told me;

  I have a Friend, Gratian, the Man my Heart

  Has cherisht most; we from our Youth were Rivals

  For my dear Porica: tell him, if I die,

  I left her to him, as the dearest Legacy

  I could bequeath: Bid him be tender of her,

  For she’ll deserve it from him. — Would she did.

  Grat.

  Heav’n knows, it is my Curse, spite of her Scorn, to love her even to Madness; nor shall this Man of War, this French-bred Hero, win her with nothing but his Cap and Feather: I wonder he’s not come yet.

  Theod.

  I have heard the Man is Gallant; but in honesty,

  As thou art my Friend, I wish thou wouldst hear good Counsel

  Grat.

  Thine must be Noble.

  Theod.

  I’d have thee think no more of this proud Woman.

  Grat.

  I wish ‘twere possible.

  Theod.

  Their Sex is one gross Cheat; their only Study

  How to deceive, betray, and ruine Man:

  They have it by Tradition from their Mothers,

  Which they improve each day, and grow more exquisite.

  Their Painting, Patching, all their Chamber-arts,

  And Publick Affectations, are but Tricks

  To draw fond Men into that Snare, their Love.

  Grat.

  Would this could cure mine.

  Theod.

  When w’are caught fast, ’tis then they shew their Natures,

  Grow haughty, proud, to vex the Wretch th’ave conquer’d;

  Tho the same Hour they glance abroad for new ones.