John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Limb. But you would be entreated, and say, Nolo, nolo, nolo, three times, like any bishop, when your mouth waters at the diocese.

  Brain. I have no voice; but since this gentleman commands me, let the words commend themselves.

  [Sings.

  My Phillis is charming —

  Limb. But why, of all names, would you chuse a Phillis? There have been so many Phillises in songs, 061 I thought there had not been another left, for love or money.

  Brain. If a man should listen to a fop![Sings.

  My Phillis —

  Aldo. Before George, I am on t’other side: I think, as good no song, as no Phillis.

  Brain. Yet again! — My Phillis — [Sings.

  Limb. Pray, for my sake, let it be your Chloris.

  Brain. [Looking scornfully at him.] My Phillis — [Sings.

  Limb. You had as good call her your Succuba.

  Brain. Morbleu! will you not give me leave? I am full of Phillis. [Sings.] My Phillis —

  Limb. Nay, I confess, Phillis is a very pretty name.

  Brain. Diable! Now I will not sing, to spite you. By the world, you are not worthy of it. Well, I have a gentleman’s fortune; I have courage, and make no inconsiderable figure in the world: yet I would quit my pretensions to all these, rather than not be author of this sonnet, which your rudeness has irrevocably lost.

  Limb. Some foolish French quelque chose, I warrant you.

  Brain. Quelque chose! O ignorance, in supreme perfection! he means a kek shose.

  Limb. Why a kek shoes let it be then! and a kek shoes for your song.

  Brain. I give to the devil such a judge. Well, were I to be born again, I would as soon be the elephant, as a wit; he’s less a monster in this age of malice. I could burn my sonnet, out of rage.

  Limb. You may use your pleasure with your own.

  Wood. His friends would not suffer him: Virgil was not permitted to burn his Æneids.

  Brain. Dear sir, I’ll not die ungrateful for your approbation. [Aside to Wood.] You see this fellow? he is an ass already; he has a handsome mistress, and you shall make an ox of him ere long.

  Wood. Say no more, it shall be done.

  Limb. Hark you, Mr Woodall; this fool Brainsick grows insupportable; he’s a public nuisance; but I scorn to set my wit against him: he has a pretty wife: I say no more; but if you do not graff him —

  Wood. A word to the wise: I shall consider him, for your sake.

  Limb. Pray do, sir: consider him much.

  Wood. Much is the word. — This feud makes well for me.[Aside.

  Brain. [To Wood.] I’ll give you the opportunity, and rid you of him. — Come away, little Limberham; you, and I, and father Aldo, will take a turn together in the square.

  Aldo. We will follow you immediately.

  Limb. Yes, we will come after you, bully Brainsick: but I hope you will not draw upon us there.

  Brain. If you fear that, Bilbo shall be left behind.

  Limb. Nay, nay, leave but your madrigal behind: draw not that upon us, and it is no matter for your sword.

  [Exit Brain.

  Enter Tricksy, and Mrs Brainsick, with a note for each.

  Wood. [Aside.] Both together! either of them, apart, had been my business: but I shall never play well at this three-hand game.

  Limb. O Pug, how have you been passing your time?

  Trick. I have been looking over the last present of orange gloves you made me; and methinks I do not like the scent. — O Lord, Mr Woodall, did you bring those you wear from Paris?

  Wood. Mine are Roman, madam.

  Trick. The scent I love, of all the world. Pray let me see them.

  Mrs Brain. Nay, not both, good Mrs Tricksy; for I love that scent as well as you.

  Wood. [Pulling them off, and giving each one.] I shall find two dozen more of women’s gloves among my trifles, if you please to accept them, ladies.

  Trick. Look to it; we shall expect them. — Now to put in my billet-doux!

  Mrs Brain. So, now, I have the opportunity to thrust in my note.

  Trick. Here, sir, take your glove again; the perfume’s too strong for me.

  Mrs Brain. Pray take the other to it; though I should have kept it for a pawn.

  [Mrs Brainsick’s note falls out, Limb. takes it up.

  Limb. What have we here? [Reads.] for Mr Woodall!

  Both Women. Hold, hold, Mr Limberham! [They snatch it.

  Aldo. Before George, son Limberham, you shall read it.

  Wood. By your favour, sir, but he must not.

  Trick. He’ll know my hand, and I am ruined!

  Mrs Brain. Oh, my misfortune! Mr Woodall, will you suffer your secrets to be discovered!

  Wood. It belongs to one of them, that’s certain. — Mr Limberham, I must desire you to restore this letter; it is from my mistress.

  Trick. The devil’s in him; will he confess?

  Wood. This paper was sent me from her this morning; and I was so fond of it, that I left it in 064 my glove: If one of the ladies had found it there, I should have been laughed at most unmercifully.

  Mrs Brain. That’s well come off!

  Limb. My heart was at my mouth, for fear it had been Pug’s. [Aside.] — There ’tis again — Hold, hold; pray let me see it once more: a mistress, said you?

  Aldo. Yes, a mistress, sir. I’ll be his voucher, he has a mistress, and a fair one too.

  Limb. Do you know it, father Aldo.

  Aldo. Know it! I know the match is as good as made already: old Woodall and I are all one. You, son, were sent for over on purpose; the articles for her jointure are all concluded, and a friend of mine drew them.

  Limb. Nay, if father Aldo knows it, I am satisfied.

  Aldo. But how came you by this letter, son Woodall? let me examine you.

  Wood. Came by it! (pox, he has non-plus’d me!) How do you say I came by it, father Aldo?

  Aldo. Why, there’s it, now. This morning I met your mistress’s father, Mr you know who —

  Wood. Mr who, sir?

  Aldo. Nay, you shall excuse me for that; but we are intimate: his name begins with some vowel or consonant, no matter which: Well, her father gave me this very numerical letter, subscribed, for Mr. Woodall.

  Limb. Before George, and so it is.

  Aldo. Carry me this letter, quoth he, to your son Woodall; ’tis from my daughter such a one, and then whispered me her name.

  Wood. Let me see; I’ll read it once again.

  Limb. What, are you not acquainted with the contents of it?

  Wood. O, your true lover will read you over a letter from his mistress, a thousand times.

  Trick. Ay, two thousand, if he be in the humour.

  Wood. Two thousand! then it must be hers. [Reads to himself.] “Away to your chamber immediately, and I’ll give my fool the slip.” — The fool! that may be either the keeper, or the husband; but commonly the keeper is the greater. Humh! without subscription! it must be Tricksy. — Father Aldo, pr’ythee rid me of this coxcomb.

  Aldo. Come, son Limberham, we let our friend Brainsick walk too long alone: Shall we follow him? we must make haste; for I expect a whole bevy of whores, a chamber-full of temptation this afternoon: ’tis my day of audience.

  Limb. Mr Woodall, we leave you here — you remember? [Exeunt Limb. and Aldo.

  Wood. Let me alone. — Ladies, your servant; I have a little private business with a friend of mine.

  Mrs Brain. Meaning me. — Well, sir, your servant.

  Trick. Your servant, till we meet again. [Exeunt severally.

  SCENE II. — Mr Woodall’s Chamber.

  Mrs Brainsick alone.

  Mrs Brain. My note has taken, as I wished: he will be here immediately. If I could but resolve to lose no time, out of modesty; but it is his part to be violent, for both our credits. Never so little force and ruffling, and a poor weak woman is excused. [Noise.] Hark, I hear him coming. — Ah me! the steps beat double: He comes not alone. If it should be my husband with him! where shall I hide mysel
f? I see no other place, but under his bed: I must lie as silently as my fear will suffer me. Heaven send me safe again to my own chamber!

  [Creeps under the Bed.

  Enter Woodall and Tricksy.

  Wood. Well, fortune at the last is favourable, and now you are my prisoner.

  Trick. After a quarter of an hour, I suppose, I shall have my liberty upon easy terms. But pray let us parley a little first.

  Wood. Let it be upon the bed then. Please you to sit?

  Trick. No matter where; I am never the nearer to your wicked purpose. But you men are commonly great comedians in love-matters; therefore you must swear, in the first place —

  Wood. Nay, no conditions: The fortress is reduced to extremity; and you must yield upon discretion, or I storm.

  Trick. Never to love any other woman.

  Wood. I kiss the book upon it. [Kisses her. Mrs Brain. pinches him from underneath the Bed.] Oh, are you at your love-tricks already? If you pinch me thus, I shall bite your lip.

  Trick. I did not pinch you: But you are apt, I see, to take any occasion of gathering up more close to me. — Next, you shall not so much as look on Mrs Brainsick.

  Wood. Have you done? these covenants are so tedious!

  Trick. Nay, but swear then.

  Wood. I do promise, I do swear, I do any thing. [Mrs Brain. runs a pin into him.] Oh, the devil! what do you mean to run pins into me? this is perfect caterwauling.

  Trick. You fancy all this; I would not hurt you for the world. Come, you shall see how well I love you. [Kisses him: Mrs Brain. pricks her.] Oh! I think you have needles growing in your bed.

  [Both rise up.

  Wood. I will see what is the matter in it.

  Saint. [Within.] Mr Woodall, where are you, verily?

  Wood. Pox verily her! it is my landlady: Here, hide yourself behind the curtains, while I run to the door, to stop her entry.

  Trick. Necessity has no law; I must be patient. [She gets into the Bed, and draws the clothes over her.

  Enter Saintly.

  Saint. In sadness, gentleman, I can hold no longer: I will not keep your wicked counsel, how you were locked up in the chest; for it lies heavy upon my conscience, and out it must, and shall.

  Wood. You may tell, but who will believe you? where’s your witness?

  Saint. Verily, heaven is my witness.

  Wood. That’s your witness too, that you would have allured me to lewdness, have seduced a hopeful young man, as I am; you would have enticed youth: Mark that, beldam.

  Saint. I care not; my single evidence is enough to Mr Limberham; he will believe me, that thou burnest in unlawful lust to his beloved: So thou shalt be an outcast from my family.

  Wood. Then will I go to the elders of thy church, and lay thee open before them, that thou didst feloniously unlock that chest, with wicked intentions of purloining: So thou shalt be excommunicated from the congregation, thou Jezebel, and delivered over to Satan.

  Saint. Verily, our teacher will not excommunicate me, for taking the spoils of the ungodly, to clothe him; for it is a judged case amongst us, that a married woman may steal from her husband, to 068 relieve a brother. But yet them mayest atone this difference betwixt us; verily, thou mayest.

  Wood. Now thou art tempting me again. Well, if I had not the gift of continency, what might become of me?

  Saint. The means have been offered thee, and thou hast kicked with the heel. I will go immediately to the tabernacle of Mr Limberham, and discover thee, O thou serpent, in thy crooked paths.

  [Going.

  Wood. Hold, good landlady, not so fast; let me have time to consider on’t; I may mollify, for flesh is frail. An hour or two hence we will confer together upon the premises.

  Saint. Oh, on the sudden, I feel myself exceeding sick! Oh! oh!

  Wood. Get you quickly to your closet, and fall to your mirabilis; this is no place for sick people. Begone, begone!

  Saint. Verily, I can go no farther.

  Wood. But you shall, verily. I will thrust you down, out of pure pity.

  Saint. Oh, my eyes grow dim! my heart quops, and my back acheth! here I will lay me down, and rest me.

  [Throws herself suddenly down upon the Bed; Tricksy shrieks, and rises; Mrs Brain. rises from under the Bed in a fright.

  Wood. So! here’s a fine business! my whole seraglio up in arms!

  Saint. So, so; if Providence had not sent me hither, what folly had been this day committed!

  Trick. Oh the old woman in the oven! we both overheard your pious documents: Did we not, Mrs Brainsick?

  Mrs Brain. Yes, we did overhear her; and we will both testify against her.

  Wood. I have nothing to say for her. Nay, I told her her own; you can both bear me witness. If a sober man cannot be quiet in his own chamber for her —

  Trick. For, you know, sir, when Mrs Brainsick and I over-heard her coming, having been before acquainted with her wicked purpose, we both agreed to trap her in it.

  Mrs Brain. And now she would ‘scape herself, by accusing us! but let us both conclude to cast an infamy upon her house, and leave it.

  Saint. Sweet Mr Woodall, intercede for me, or I shall be ruined.

  Wood. Well, for once I’ll be good-natured, and try my interest. — Pray, ladies, for my sake, let this business go no farther.

  Trick. and Mrs Brain. You may command us.

  Wood. For, look you, the offence was properly to my person; and charity has taught me to forgive my enemies. I hope, Mrs Saintly, this will be a warning to you, to amend your life: I speak like a Christian, as one that tenders the welfare of your soul.

  Saint. Verily, I will consider.

  Wood. Why, that is well said. — [Aside.] Gad, and so must I too; for my people is dissatisfied, and my government in danger: But this is no place for meditation. — Ladies, I wait on you.

  [Exeunt.

  ACT IV.

  — SCENE I.

  Enter Aldo and Geoffery.

  Aldo. Despatch, Geoffery, despatch: The outlying punks will be upon us, ere I am in a readiness to give audience. Is the office well provided?

  Geoff. The stores are very low, sir: Some dolly petticoats, and manteaus we have; and half a 070 dozen pair of laced shoes, bought from court at second hand.

  Aldo. Before George, there is not enough to rig out a mournival of whores: They’ll think me grown a mere curmudgeon. Mercy on me, how will this glorious trade be carried on, with such a miserable stock!

  Geoff. I hear a coach already stopping at the door.

  Aldo. Well, somewhat in ornament for the body, somewhat in counsel for the mind; one thing must help out another, in this bad world: Whoring must go on.

  Enter Mrs Overdon, and her Daughter Prue.

  Mrs Over. Ask blessing, Prue: He is the best father you ever had.

  Aldo. Bless thee, and make thee a substantial, thriving whore. Have your mother in your eye, Prue; it is good to follow good example. How old are you, Prue? Hold up your head, child.

  Pru. Going o’my sixteen, father Aldo.

  Aldo. And you have been initiated but these two years: Loss of time, loss of precious time! Mrs Overdon, how much have you made of Prue, since she has been man’s meat?

  Mrs Over. A very small matter, by my troth; considering the charges I have been at in her education: Poor Prue was born under an unlucky planet; I despair of a coach for her. Her first maiden-head brought me in but little, the weather-beaten old knight, that bought her of me, beat down the price so low. I held her at an hundred guineas, and he bid ten; and higher than thirty would not rise.

  Aldo. A pox of his unlucky handsel! He can but fumble, and will not pay neither.

  Pru. Hang him; I could never endure him, father: 071 He is the filthiest old goat; and then he comes every day to our house, and eats out his thirty guineas; and at three months end, he threw me off.

  Mrs Over. And since then, the poor child has dwindled, and dwindled away. Her next maiden-head brought me but ten; and from ten she fell to five; and at las
t to a single guinea: She has no luck to keeping; they all leave her, the more my sorrow.

  Aldo. We must get her a husband then in the city; they bite rarely at a stale whore at this end of the town, new furbished up in a tawdry manteau.

  Mrs Over. No: Pray let her try her fortune a little longer in the world first: By my troth, I should be loth to be at all this cost, in her French, and her singing, to have her thrown away upon a husband.

  Aldo. Before George, there can come no good of your swearing, Mrs Overdon: Say your prayers, Prue, and go duly to church o’Sundays, you’ll thrive the better all the week. Come, have a good heart, child; I will keep thee myself: Thou shalt do my little business; and I’ll find thee an able young fellow to do thine.

  Enter Mrs PAD.

  Daughter Pad, you are welcome: What, you have performed the last Christian office to your keeper; I saw you follow him up the heavy hill to Tyburn. Have you had never a business since his death?

  Mrs Pad. No indeed, father; never since execution-day. The night before, we lay together most lovingly in Newgate; and the next morning he lift up his eyes, and prepared his soul with a prayer, 072 while one might tell twenty; and then mounted the cart as merrily, as if he had been going for a purse.

  Aldo. You are a sorrowful widow, daughter Pad; but I’ll take care of you. — Geoffery, see her rigged out immediately for a new voyage: Look in figure 9, in the upper drawer, and give her out the flowered justacorps, with the petticoat belonging to it.

  Mrs Pad. Could you not help to prefer me, father?

  Aldo. Let me see — let me see: — Before George, I have it, and it comes as pat too! Go me to the very judge that sate upon him; it is an amorous, impotent old magistrate, and keeps admirably. I saw him leer upon you from the bench: He will tell you what is sweeter than strawberries and cream, before you part.

  Enter Mrs Termagant.

  Mrs Term. O father, I think I shall go mad.

  Aldo. You are of the violentest temper, daughter Termagant! When had you a business last?

  Mrs Term. The last I had was with young Caster, that son-of-a-whore gamester: he brought me to taverns, to draw in young cullies, while he bubbled them at play; and, when he had picked up a considerable sum, and should divide, the cheating dog would sink my share, and swear, — Damn him, he won nothing.