by John Dryden
Aldo. Your man told me, you were just returned from travel: What parts have you last visited?
Wood. I came from France.
Aldo. Then, perhaps, you may have known an ungracious boy of mine there.
Wood. Like enough: Pray, what’s his name?
Aldo. George Aldo.
Wood. I must confess I do know the gentleman; satisfy yourself, he’s in health, and upon his return.
Aldo. That’s some comfort: But, I hear, a very rogue, a lewd young fellow.
Wood. The worst I know of him is, that he loves a wench; and that good quality he has not stolen. [Music at the Balcony over head: Mrs Tricksy and Judith appear.] — Hark! There’s music above.
Aldo. ’Tis at my daughter Tricksy’s lodging; the kept mistress I told you of, the lass of mettle. But for all she carries it so high, I know her pedigree; her mother’s a sempstress in Dog-and-Bitch yard, and was, in her youth, as right as she is.
Wood. Then she’s a two-piled punk, a punk of two descents.
Aldo. And her father, the famous cobler, who taught Walsingham to the black-birds. How stand thy affections to her, thou lusty rogue?
Wood. All on fire: A most urging creature!
Aldo. Peace! they are beginning.
A SONG.
I.
‘Gainst keepers we petition,
Who would inclose the common:
’Tis enough to raise sedition
In the free-born subject, woman.
Because for his gold,
I my body have sold,
He thinks I’m a slave for my life;
He rants, domineers,
He swaggers and swears,
And would keep me as bare as his wife.
II.
‘Gainst keepers we petition, &c.
’Tis honest and fair,
That a feast I prepare;
But when his dull appetite’s o’er,
I’ll treat with the rest
Some welcomer guest,
For the reckoning was paid me before.
Wood. A song against keepers! this makes well for us lusty lovers.
Trick. [Above.] Father, father Aldo!
Aldo. Daughter Tricksy, are you there, child? your friends at Barnet are all well, and your dear master Limberham, that noble Hephestion, is returning with them.
Trick. And you are come upon the spur before, to acquaint me with the news.
Aldo. Well, thou art the happiest rogue in a kind keeper! He drank thy health five times, supernaculum, to my son Brain-sick; and dipt my daughter 026 Pleasance’s little finger, to make it go down more glibly: And, before George, I grew tory rory, as they say, and strained a brimmer through the lily-white smock, i’faith.
Trick. You will never leave these fumbling tricks, father, till you are taken up on suspicion of manhood, and have a bastard laid at your door: I am sure you would own it, for your credit.
Aldo. Before George, I should not see it starve, for the mother’s sake: For, if she were a punk, she was good-natured, I warrant her.
Wood. [Aside.] Well, if ever son was blest with a hopeful father, I am.
Trick. Who is that gentleman with you?
Aldo. A young monsieur returned from travel; a lusty young rogue; a true-milled whoremaster, with the right stamp. He is a fellow-lodger, incorporate in our society: For whose sake he came hither, let him tell you.
Wood. [Aside.] Are you gloating already? then there’s hopes, i’faith.
Trick. You seem to know him, father.
Aldo. Know him! from his cradle — What’s your name?
Wood. Woodall.
Ald. Woodall of Woodall; I knew his father; we were contemporaries, and fellow-wenchers in our youth.
Wood. [Aside.] My honest father stumbles into truth, in spite of lying.
Trick. I was just coming down to the garden-house, before you came.[Tricksy descends.
Aldo. I am sorry I cannot stay to present my son, Woodall, to you; but I have set you together, that’s enough for me.
[Exit.
Wood. [Alone.] ’Twas my study to avoid my father, and I have run full into his mouth: and yet I have a strong hank upon him too; for I am privy to as many of his virtues, as he is of mine. After all, if I had an ounce of discretion left, I should pursue this business no farther: but two fine women in a house! well, it is resolved, come what will on it, thou art answerable for all my sins, old Aldo —
Enter Tricksy, with a box of essences.
Here she comes, this heir-apparent of a sempstress, and a cobler! and yet, as she’s adorned, she looks like any princess of the blood.
[Salutes her.
Trick. [Aside.] What a difference there is between this gentleman, and my feeble keeper, Mr Limberham! he’s to my wish, if he would but make the least advances to me. — Father Aldo tells me, sir, you are a traveller: What adventures have you had in foreign countries?
Wood. I have no adventures of my own, can deserve your curiosity; but, now I think on it, I can 028 tell you one that happened to a French cavalier, a friend of mine, at Tripoli.
Trick. No wars, I beseech you: I am so weary of father Aldo’s Loraine and Crequi.
Wood. Then this is as you would desire it, a love-adventure. This French gentleman was made a slave to the Dey of Tripoli; by his good qualities, gained his master’s favour; and after, by corrupting an eunuch, was brought into the seraglio privately, to see the Dey’s mistress.
Trick. This is somewhat; proceed, sweet sir.
Wood. He was so much amazed, when he first beheld her leaning over a balcony, that he scarcely dared to lift his eyes, or speak to her.
Trick. [Aside.] I find him now. — But what followed of this dumb interview?
Wood. The nymph was gracious, and came down to him; but with so goddess-like a presence, that the poor gentleman was thunder-struck again.
Trick. That savoured little of the monsieur’s gallantry, especially when the lady gave him encouragement.
Wood The gentleman was not so dull, but he understood the favour, and was presuming enough to try if she were mortal. He advanced with more assurance, and took her fair hands: was he not too bold, madam? and would not you have drawn back yours, had you been in the sultana’s place?
Trick. If the sultana liked him well enough to come down into the garden to him, I suppose she came not thither to gather nosegays.
Wood. Give me leave, madam, to thank you, in my friend’s behalf, for your favourable judgment. [Kisses her hand.] He kissed her hand with an exceeding transport; and finding that she prest his at the same instant, he proceeded with a greater eagerness to her lips — but, madam, the story would be 029 without life, unless you give me leave to act the circumstances.
[Kisses her.
Trick. Well, I’ll swear you are the most natural historian!
Wood. But now, madam, my heart beats with joy, when I come to tell you the sweetest part of his adventure: opportunity was favourable, and love was on his side; he told her, the chamber was more private, and a fitter scene for pleasure. Then, looking on her eyes, he found them languishing; he saw her cheeks blushing, and heard her voice faultering in a half-denial: he seized her hand with an amorous ecstacy, and —
[Takes her hand.
Trick. Hold, sir, you act your part too far. Your friend was unconscionable, if he desired more favours at the first interview.
Wood. He both desired and obtained them, madam, and so will —
Trick. [A noise within.] Heavens! I hear Mr Limberham’s voice: he’s returned from Barnet.
Wood. I’ll avoid him.
Trick. That’s impossible; he’ll meet you. Let me think a moment: — Mrs Saintly is abroad, and cannot discover you: have any of the servants seen you?
Wood. None.
Trick. Then you shall pass for my Italian merchant of essences: here’s a little box of them just ready.
Wood. But I speak no Italian; only a few broken scraps, which I picked from Scaramouch and Harlequin at Paris.
Enter Limberham.
Limb. Why, how now, Pug? Nay, I must lay you over the lips, to take hansel of them, for my welcome.
Trick. [Putting him back.] Foh! how you smell of sweat, dear!
Limb. I have put myself into this same unsavoury heat, out of my violent affection to see thee, Pug. Before George, as father Aldo says, I could not live without thee; thou art the purest bed-fellow, though I say it, that I did nothing but dream of thee all night; and then I was so troublesome to father Aldo, (for you must know he and I were lodged together) that, in my conscience, I did so kiss him, and so hug him in my sleep!
Trick. I dare be sworn ’twas in your sleep; for, when you are waking, you are the most honest, quiet bed-fellow, that ever lay by woman.
Limb. Well, Pug, all shall be amended; I am come home on purpose to pay old debts. But who is that same fellow there? What makes he in our territories?
Trick. You oaf you, do you not perceive it is the Italian seignior, who is come to sell me essences?
Limb. Is this the seignior? I warrant you, it is he the lampoon was made on.
[Sings the tune of Seignior, and ends with,
Ho, ho.
Trick. Pr’ythee leave thy foppery, that we may have done with him. He asks an unreasonable price, and we cannot agree. Here, seignior, take your trinkets, and be gone.
Wood. [Taking the box.] A dio, seigniora.
Limb. Hold, pray stay a little, seignior; a thing is come into my head of the sudden.
Trick. What would you have, you eternal sot? the man’s in haste.
Limb. But why should you be in your frumps, Pug, when I design only to oblige you? I must present you with this box of essences; nothing can be too dear for thee.
Trick. Pray let him go, he understands no English.
Limb. Then how could you drive a bargain with him, Pug?
Trick. Why, by signs, you coxcomb.
Limb. Very good! then I’ll first pull him by the sleeve, that’s a sign to stay. Look you, Mr Seignior, I would make a present of your essences to this lady; for I find I cannot speak too plain to you, because you understand no English. Be not you refractory now, but take ready money: that’s a rule.
Wood. Seignioro, non intendo Inglese.
Limb. This is a very dull fellow! he says, he does not intend English. How much shall I offer him, Pug?
Trick. If you will present me, I have bidden him ten guineas.
Limb. And, before George, you bid him fair. Look you, Mr Seignior, I will give you all these. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10. Do you see, Seignior?
Wood. Seignior, si.
Limb. Lo’ you there, Pug, he does see. Here, will you take me at my word?
Wood. [Shrugging up] Troppo poco, troppo poco.
Limb. A poco, a poco! why a pox on you too, an’ you go to that. Stay, now I think on’t, I can tickle him up with French; he’ll understand that sure. Monsieur, voulez vous prendre ces dix guinees, pour ces essences? mon foy c’est assez.
Wood. Chi vala, amici: Ho di casa! taratapa, taratapa, eus, matou, meau! — [To her.] I am at the end of my Italian; what will become of me?
Trick. [To him.] Speak any thing, and make it pass for Italian; but be sure you take his money.
Wood. Seignior, io non canno takare ten guinneo possibilmentè; ’tis to my losso.
Limb. That is, Pug, he cannot possibly take ten guineas, ’tis to his loss: Now I understand him; this is almost English.
Trick. English! away, you fop: ’tis a kind of lingua Franca, as I have heard the merchants call it; a certain compound language, made up of all tongues, that passes through the Levant.
Limb. This lingua, what you call it, is the most rarest language! I understand it as well as if it were English; you shall see me answer him: Seignioro, stay a littlo, and consider wello, ten guinnio is monyo, a very considerablo summo.
Trick. Come, you shall make it twelve, and he shall take it for my sake.
Limb. Then, Seignioro, for Pugsakio, addo two moro: je vous donne bon advise: prenez vitement: prenez me à mon mot.
Wood. Io losero multo; ma pergagnare il vestro costumo, datemi hansello.
Limb. There is both hansello and guinnio; tako, tako, and so good-morrow.
Trick. Good-morrow, seignior; I like your spirits very well; pray let me have all your essence you can spare.
Limb. Come, Puggio, and let us retire in secreto, like lovers, into our chambro; for I grow impatiento — bon matin, monsieur, bon matin et bon jour.
[Exeunt Limberham and Tricksy.
Wood. Well, get thee gone, ‘squire Limberhamo, for the easiest fool I ever knew, next my naunt of fairies in the Alchemist. I have escaped, thanks 033 to my mistress’s lingua França: I’ll steal to my chamber, shift my perriwig and clothes; and then, with the help of resty Gervase, concert the business of the next campaign. My father sticks in my stomach still; but I am resolved to be Woodall with him, and Aldo with the women.
[Exit.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Enter Woodall and Gervase.
Wood. Hitherto, sweet Gervase, we have carried matters swimmingly. I have danced in a net before my father, almost check-mated the keeper, retired to my chamber undiscovered, shifted my habit, and am come out an absolute monsieur, to allure the ladies. How sits my chedreux?
Gerv. O very finely! with the locks combed down, like a mermaid’s on a sign-post. Well, you think now your father may live in the same house with you till doomsday, and never find you; or, when he has found you, he will be kind enough not to consider what a property you have made of him. My employment is at an end; you have got a better pimp, thanks to your filial reverence.
Wood. Pr’ythee, what should a man do with such a father, but use him thus? besides, he does journey-work under me; ’tis his humour to fumble, and my duty to provide for his old age.
Gerv. Take my advice yet; down o’ your marrow bones, and ask forgiveness; espouse the wife he has provided for you; lie by the side of a wholesome woman, and procreate your own progeny in the fear of heaven.
Wood. I have no vocation to it, Gervase: A man of sense is not made for marriage; ’tis a game, 034 which none but dull plodding fellows can play at well; and ’tis as natural to them, as crimp is to a Dutchman.
Gerv. Think on’t, however, sir; debauchery is upon its last legs in England: Witty men began the fashion, and now the fops are got into it, ’tis time to leave it.
Enter Aldo.
Aldo. Son Woodall, thou vigorous young rogue, I congratulate thy good fortune; thy man has told me the adventure of the Italian merchant.
Wood. Well, they are now retired together, like Rinaldo and Armida, to private dalliance; but we shall find a time to separate their loves, and strike in betwixt them, daddy. But I hear there’s another lady in the house, my landlady’s fair daughter; how came you to leave her out of your catalogue?
Aldo. She’s pretty, I confess, but most damnably honest; have a care of her, I warn you, for she’s prying and malicious.
Wood. A twang of the mother; but I love to graff on such a crab-tree; she may bear good fruit another year.
Aldo. No, no, avoid her; I warrant thee, young Alexander, I will provide thee more worlds to conquer.
Gerv. [Aside.] My old master would fain pass for Philip of Macedon, when he is little better than Sir Pandarus of Troy.
Wood. If you get this keeper out of doors, father, and give me but an opportunity —
Aldo. Trust my diligence; I will smoke him out, as they do bees, but I will make him leave his honey-comb.
Gerv. [Aside.] If I had a thousand sons, none of 035 the race of the Gervases should ever be educated by thee, thou vile old Satan!
Aldo. Away, boy! Fix thy arms, and whet, like the lusty German boys, before a charge: He shall bolt immedi
ately.
Wood. O, fear not the vigorous five-and-twenty.
Aldo. Hold, a word first: Thou saidst my son was shortly to come over.
Wood. So he told me.
Aldo. Thou art my bosom friend.
Gerv. [Aside.] Of an hour’s acquaintance.
Aldo. Be sure thou dost not discover my frailties to the young scoundrel: ‘Twere enough to make the boy my master. I must keep up the dignity of old age with him.
Wood. Keep but your own counsel, father; for whatever he knows, must come from you.
Aldo. The truth on’t is, I sent for him over; partly to have married him, and partly because his villainous bills came so thick upon me, that I grew weary of the charge.
Gerv. He spared for nothing; he laid it on, sir, as I have heard.
Wood. Peace, you lying rogue! — Believe me, sir, bating his necessary expences of women, which I know you would not have him want, in all things else, he was the best manager of your allowance; and, though I say it —
Gerv. [Aside.] That should not say it.
Wood. The most hopeful young gentleman in Paris.
Aldo. Report speaks otherwise; and, before George, I shall read him a wormwood lecture, when I see him. But, hark, I hear the door unlock; the lovers are coming out: I’ll stay here, to wheedle him abroad; but you must vanish.
Wood. Like night and the moon, in the Maid’s Tragedy: I into mist; you into day.
[Exeunt Wood. and Ger.
SCENE changes to Limberham’s apartment.
Enter Limberham and Tricksy.
Limb. Nay, but dear sweet honey Pug, forgive me but this once: It may be any man’s case, when his desires are too vehement.
Trick. Let me alone; I care not.
Limb. But then thou wilt not love me, Pug.
Aldo. How now, son Limberham? There’s no quarrel towards, I hope.
Trick. You had best tell now, and make yourself ridiculous.
Limb. She’s in passion: Pray do you moderate this matter, father Aldo.
Trick. Father Aldo! I wonder you are not ashamed to call him so; you may be his father, if the truth were known.
Aldo. Before George, I smell a rat, son Limberham. I doubt, I doubt, here has been some great omission in love affairs.
Limb. I think all the stars in heaven have conspired my ruin. I’ll look in my almanack. — As I hope for mercy, ’tis cross day now.