by John Dryden
Trick. Hang your pitiful excuses. ’Tis well known what offers I have had, and what fortunes I might have made with others, like a fool as I was, to throw 037 away my youth and beauty upon you. I could have had a young handsome lord, that offered me my coach and six; besides many a good knight and gentleman, that would have parted with their own ladies, and have settled half they had upon me.
Limb. Ay, you said so.
Trick. I said so, sir! Who am I? Is not my word as good as yours?
Limb. As mine gentlewoman? though I say it, my word will go for thousands.
Trick. The more shame for you, that you have done no more for me: But I am resolved I’ll not lose my time with you; I’ll part.
Limb. Do, who cares? Go to Dog-and-Bitch yard, and help your mother to make footmen’s shirts.
Trick. I defy you, slanderer; I defy you.
Aldo. Nay, dear daughter!
Limb. I defy her too.
Aldo. Nay, good son!
Trick. Let me alone: I’ll have him cudgelled by my footman.
Enter Saintly.
Saint. Bless us! what’s here to do? My neighbours will think I keep a nest of unclean birds here.
Limb. You had best peach now, and make her house be thought a bawdy-house!
Trick. No, no: While you are in it, you will secure it from that scandal. — Hark hither, Mrs Saintly. [Whispers.]
Limb. Do, tell, tell, no matter for that.
Saint. Who would have imagined you had been such a kind of man, Mr Limberham! O heaven, O heaven!
[Exit.
Limb. So, now you have spit your venom, and the storm’s over.
Aldo. [Crying.] That I should ever live to see this day!
Trick. To show I can live honest, in spite of all mankind, I’ll go into a nunnery, and that is my resolution.
Limb. Do not hinder her, good father Aldo; I am sure she will come back from France, before she gets half way over to Calais.
Aldo. Nay, but son Limberham, this must not be. A word in private; — you will never get such another woman, for love nor money. Do but look upon her; she is a mistress for an emperor.
Limb. Let her be a mistress for a pope, like a whore of Babylon, as she is.
Aldo. Would I were worthy to be a young man, for her sake! She should eat pearls, if she would have them.
Limb. She can digest them, and gold too. Let me tell you, father Aldo, she has the stomach of an ostrich.
Aldo. Daughter Tricksy, a word with you.
Trick. I’ll hear nothing: I am for a nunnery.
Aldo. I never saw a woman, before you, but first or last she would be brought to reason. Hark you, child, you will scarcely find so kind a keeper. What if he has some impediment one way? Every body is not a Hercules. You shall have my son Woodall, to supply his wants; but, as long as he maintains you, be ruled by him that bears the purse.
LIMBERHAM SINGING.
I my own jailor was; my only foe,
Who did my liberty forego;
I was a prisoner, because I would be so.
Aldo. Why, look you now, son Limberham, is this a song to be sung at such a time, when I am 039 labouring your reconcilement? Come, daughter Tricksy, you must be ruled; I’ll be the peace-maker.
Trick. No, I’m just going.
Limb. The devil take me, if I call you back.
Trick. And his dam take me, if I return, except you do.
Aldo. So, now you will part, for a mere punctilio! Turn to him, daughter: Speak to her, son: Why should you be so refractory both, to bring my gray hairs with sorrow to the grave?
Limb. I’ll not be forsworn, I swore first;
Trick. Thou art a forsworn man, however; for thou sworest to love me eternally.
Limb. Yes, I was such a fool, to swear so.
Aldo. And will you have that dreadful oath lie gnawing on your conscience?
Trick. Let him be damned; and so farewell for ever. — [Going.]
Limb. Pug!
Trick. Did you call, Mr Limberham?
Limb. It may be, ay; it may be, no.
Trick. Well, I am going to the nunnery; but, to shew I am in charity, I’ll pray for you.
Aldo. Pray for him! fy, daughter, fy; is that an answer for a Christian?
Limb. What did Pug say? will she pray for me? Well, to shew I am in charity, she shall not pray for me. Come back, Pug. But did I ever think thou couldst have been so unkind to have parted with me?
[Cries.
Aldo. Look you, daughter, see how nature works in him.
Limb. I’ll settle two hundred a-year upon thee, because thou said’st thou would’st pray for me.
Aldo. Before George, son Limberham, you will spoil all, if you underbid so. Come, down with your dust, man: What, shew a base mind, when a fair lady’s in question!
Limb. Well, if I must give three hundred —
Trick. No, it is no matter; my thoughts are on a better place.
Aldo. Come, there is no better place than little London. You shall not part for a trifle. What, son Limberham! four hundred a year is a square sum, and you shall give it.
Limb. It is a round sum indeed; I wish a three-cornered sum would have served her turn. — Why should you be so pervicacious now, Pug? Pray take three hundred. Nay, rather than part, Pug, it shall be so. — [She frowns.]
Aldo. It shall be so, it shall be so: Come, now buss, and seal the bargain.
Trick. [Kissing him.] You see what a good natured fool I am, Mr Limberham, to come back into a wicked world, for love of you. — You will see the writings drawn, father?
Aldo. Ay; and pay the lawyer too. Why, this is as it should be! I’ll be at the charge of the reconciling supper. — [To her aside.] Daughter, my son Woodall is waiting for you. — Come away, son Limberham to the temple.
Limb. With all my heart, while she is in a good humour: It would cost me another hundred, if I should stay till Pug were in wrath again. Adieu, sweet Pug. — [Exeunt Aldo, and Limb.]
Trick. That he should be so silly to imagine I would go into a nunnery! it is likely; I have much nun’s flesh about me. But here comes my gentleman.
Enter Woodall, not seeing her.
Wood. Now the wife’s returned, and the daughter too, and I have seen them both, and am more distracted than before: I would enjoy all, and have not yet determined with which I should begin. It is but a kind of clergy-covetousness in me, to desire so many; if I stand gaping after pluralities, one of 041 them is in danger to be made a sine cure — [Sees her.] O, fortune has determined for me. It is just here, as it is in the world; the mistress will be served before the wife.
Trick. How now, sir, are you rehearsing your lingua Franca by yourself, that you walk so pensively?
Wood. No faith, madam, I was thinking of the fair lady, who, at parting, bespoke so cunningly of me all my essences.
Trick. But there are other beauties in the house; and I should be impatient of a rival: for I am apt to be partial to myself, and think I deserve to be preferred before them.
Wood. Your beauty will allow of no competition; and I am sure my love could make none.
Trick. Yes, you have seen Mrs Brainsick; she’s a beauty.
Wood. You mean, I suppose, the peaking creature, the married woman, with a sideling look, as if one cheek carried more bias than the other?
Trick. Yes, and with a high nose, as visible as a land-mark.
Wood. With one cheek blue, the other red; just like the covering of Lambeth Palace.
Trick. Nay, but her legs, if you could see them —
Wood. She was so foolish to wear short petticoats, and show them. They are pillars, gross enough to support a larger building; of the Tuscan order, by my troth.
Trick. And her little head, upon that long neck, shows like a traitor’s skull upon a pole. Then, for her wit —
Wood. She can have none: There’s not room enough for a thought to play in.
Trick. I think indeed I may safely trust you with 042 such charms; and you have pleased me with your
description of her.
Wood. I wish you would give me leave to please you better. But you transact as gravely with me as a Spaniard; and are losing love, as he does Flanders: you consider and demur, when the monarch is up in arms, and at your gates.
Trick. But to yield upon the first summons, ere you have laid a formal siege — To-morrow may prove a luckier day to you.
Wood. Believe me, madam, lovers are not to trust to-morrow. Love may die upon our hands, or opportunity be wanting; ’tis best securing the present hour.
Trick. No, love’s like fruit; it must have time to ripen on the tree; if it be green gathered, ‘twill but wither afterwards.
Wood. Rather ’tis like gun powder; that which fires quickest, is commonly the strongest. — By this burning kiss —
Trick. You lovers are such froward children, ever crying for the breast; and, when you have once had it, fall fast asleep in the nurse’s arms. And with what face should I look upon my keeper after it?
Wood. With the same face that all mistresses look upon theirs. Come, come.
Trick. But my reputation!
Wood. Nay, that’s no argument, if I should be so base to tell; for women get good fortunes now-a-days, by losing their credit, as a cunning citizen does by breaking.
Trick. But, I’m so shame-faced! Well, I’ll go in, and hide my blushes. [Exit.
Wood. I’ll not be long after you; for I think I have hidden my blushes where I shall never find them.
Re-enter Tricksy.
Trick. As I live, Mr Limberham and father Aldo are just returned; I saw them entering. My settlement will miscarry, if you are found here: What shall we do?
Wood. Go you into your bed-chamber, and leave me to my fortune.
Trick. That you should be so dull! their suspicion will be as strong still: for what should make you here?
Wood. The curse on’t is too, I bid my man tell the family I was gone abroad; so that, if I am seen, you are infallibly discovered.
[Noise.
Trick. Hark, I hear them! Here’s a chest which I borrowed of Mrs Pleasance; get quickly into it, and I will lock you up: there’s nothing in’t but clothes of Limberham’s, and a box of writings.
Wood. I shall be smothered.
Trick. Make haste, for heaven’s sake; they’ll quickly be gone, and then —
Wood. That then will make a man venture any thing. [He goes in, and she locks the chest.
Enter Limberham and Aldo.
Limb. Dost thou not wonder to see me come again so quickly, Pug?
Trick. No, I am prepared for any foolish freak of yours: I knew you would have a qualm, when you came to settlement.
Limb. Your settlement depends most absolutely on that chest.
Trick. Father Aldo, a word with you, for heaven’s sake.
Aldo. No, no, I’ll not whisper. Do not stand in your own light, but produce the keys, daughter.
Limb. Be not musty, my pretty St Peter, but produce the keys. I must have the writings out, that concern thy settlement.
Trick. Now I see you are so reasonable, I’ll show you I dare trust your honesty; the settlement shall be deferred till another day.
Aldo. No deferring in these cases, daughter.
Trick. But I have lost the keys.
Limb. That’s a jest! let me feel in thy pocket, for I must oblige thee.
Trick. You shall feel no where: I have felt already and am sure they are lost.
Aldo. But feel again, the lawyer stays.
Trick. Well, to satisfy you, I will feel. — They are not here — nor here neither.
[She pulls out her handkerchief, and the keys drop after it: Limberham takes them up.
Limb. Look you now, Pug! who’s in the right? Well, thou art born to be a lucky Pug, in spite of thyself.
Trick [Aside.] O, I am ruined! — One word, I beseech you, father Aldo.
Aldo. Not a syllable. What the devil’s in you, daughter? Open, son, open.
Trick. [Aloud.] It shall not be opened; I will have my will, though I lose my settlement. Would I were within the chest! I would hold it down, to spite you. I say again, would I were within the chest, I would hold it so fast, you should not open it. — The best on’t is, there’s good inkle on the top of the inside, if he have the wit to lay hold on’t.
[Aside.
Limb. [Going to open it.] Before George, I think you have the devil in a string, Pug; I cannot open it, for the guts of me. Hictius doctius! what’s here to do? I believe, in my conscience, Pug can conjure: Marry, God bless us all good Christians!
Aldo. Push hard, son.
Limb. I cannot push; I was never good at pushing. When I push, I think the devil pushes too. Well, I must let it alone, for I am a fumbler. Here, take the keys, Pug.
Trick. [Aside.] Then all’s safe again.
Enter Judith and Gervase.
Jud. Madam, Mrs Pleasance has sent for the chest you borrowed of her. She has present occasion for it; and has desired us to carry it away.
Limb. Well, that’s but reason: If she must have it, she must have it.
Trick Tell her, it shall be returned some time to-day; at present we must crave her pardon, because we have some writings in it, which must first be taken out, when we can open it.
Limb. Nay, that’s but reason too: Then she must not have it.
Gerv. Let me come to’t; I’ll break it open, and you may take out your writings.
Limb. That’s true: ’Tis but reasonable it should be broken open.
Trick. Then I may be bound to make good the loss.
Limb. ’Tis unreasonable it should be broken open.
Aldo. Before George, Gervase and I will carry it away; and a smith shall be sent for to my daughter Pleasance’s chamber, to open it without damage.
Limb. Why, who says against it? Let it be carried; I’m all for reason.
Trick. Hold; I say it shall not stir.
Aldo. What? every one must have their own; Fiat justitia, aut ruat mundus.
Limb. Ay, fiat justitia, Pug: She must have her own; for justitia is Latin for justice.
[Aldo and Gerv. lift at it.
Aldo. I think the devil’s in’t.
Gerv. There’s somewhat bounces, like him, in’t. ’Tis plaguy heavy; but we’ll take t’other heave.
Trick. [Taking hold of the chest.] Then you shall carry me too. Help, murder, murder!
[A confused gabbling among them.
Enter Mrs Saintly.
Saint. Verily, I think all hell’s broke loose among you. What, a schism in my family! Does this become the purity of my house? What will the ungodly say?
Limb. No matter for the ungodly; this is all among ourselves: For, look you, the business is this. Mrs Pleasance has sent for this same business here, which she lent to Pug; now Pug has some private businesses within this business, which she would take out first, and the business will not be opened: and this makes all the business.
Saint. Verily, I am raised up for a judge amongst you; and I say —
Trick. I’ll have no judge: it shall not go.
Aldo. Why son, why daughter, why Mrs Saintly; are you all mad? Hear me, I am sober, I am discreet; let a smith be sent for hither, let him break open the chest; let the things contained be taken out, and the thing containing be restored.
Limb. Now hear me too, for I am sober and discreet; father Aldo is an oracle: It shall be so.
Trick. Well, to show I am reasonable, I am content. Mr Gervase and I will fetch an instrument from the next smith; in the mean time, let the 047 chest remain where it now stands, and let every one depart the chamber.
Limb. That no violence be offered to the person of the chest, in Pug’s absence.
Aldo. Then this matter is composed.
Trick. [Aside.] Now I shall have leisure to instruct his man, and set him free, without discovery. Come, Mr Gervase.
[Exeunt all but Saintly.
Saint. There is a certain motion put into my mind, and it is of good. I have keys here, which a precious broth
er, a devout blacksmith, made me, and which will open any lock of the same bore. Verily, it can be no sin to unlock this chest therewith, and take from thence the spoils of the ungodly. I will satisfy my conscience, by giving part thereof to the hungry and the needy; some to our pastor, that he may prove it lawful; and some I will sanctify to my own use.
[She unlocks the chest, and Woodall starts up.
Wood. Let me embrace you, my dear deliverer! Bless us! is it you, Mrs Saintly? [She shrieks.
Saint. [Shrieking.] Heaven of his mercy! Stop thief, stop thief!
Wood. What will become of me now?
Saint. According to thy wickedness, shall it be done unto thee. Have I discovered thy backslidings, thou unfaithful man! thy treachery to me shall be rewarded, verily; for I will testify against thee.
Wood. Nay, since you are so revengeful, you shall suffer your part of the disgrace; if you testify against me for adultery, I shall testify against you for theft: There’s an eighth for your seventh.
[Noise.
Saint. Verily, they are approaching: Return to my embraces, and it shall be forgiven thee.
Wood. Thank you, for your own sake. Hark! 048 they are coming! cry thief again, and help to save all yet.
Saint. Stop thief, stop thief!
Wood. Thank you for your own sake; but I fear ’tis too late.
Enter Tricksy and Limberham.
Trick. [Entering.] The chest open, and Woodall discovered! I am ruined.
Limb. Why all this shrieking, Mrs Saintly?
Wood. [Rushing him down.] Stop thief, stop thief! cry you mercy, gentleman, if I have hurt you.
Limb. [Rising.] ’Tis a fine time to cry a man mercy, when you have beaten his wind out of his body.
Saint. As I watched the chest, behold a vision rushed out of it, on the sudden; and I lifted up my voice, and shrieked.
Limb. A vision, landlady! what, have we Gog and Magog in our chamber?
Trick. A thief, I warrant you, who had gotten into the chest.
Wood. Most certainly a thief; for, hearing my landlady cry out, I flew from my chamber to her help, and met him running down stairs, and then he turned back to the balcony, and leapt into the street.
Limb. I thought, indeed, that something held down the chest, when I would have opened it: — But my writings are there still, that’s one comfort. — Oh seignioro, are you here?