Part 27

_Boy._ I was commanded but a Messenger To tell thee this, and rescue thee from those, Whose malice would have dragg'd thee quick to hell, If thou abuse this mercy and repent not, Double damnation will expect thee for it; But if thy life be virtuous hereafter, A blessedness shall reward thy good example, Thy fright hath much distracted thy weak sences, Drink of this viol, and renew thy spirits I ha done my office, think on't and be happy.

_Lur._ So, so, he gapes already, now he's fast; Thou hast acted rarely, but this is not all; First, help to convey him out o' th' vault.

_Boy._ You will dispense with me now, as you promis'd, Sir.

_Lur._ We will make shift without thee, th'ast done well, By our device this bondage may scape hell. [_Exit._

_Enter Lady, Nurse, Maria._

_La._ Didst think _Maria_, this poor outside, and Dissembling of thy voice could hide thee from A mothers searching eye, though too much fear, Lest thou wert not the same, might blind a Lover That thought thee dead too; oh my dear _Maria_, I hardly kept my joyes in from betraying thee: Welcome again to life, we shall find out The mystery of thy absence; conceal Thy person still, for _Algripe_ must not know thee: And exercise this pretty Dialect; If there be any course in Law to free thee, Thou shalt not be so miserable; be silent Good Nurse.

_Nur._ You [shall] not need to fear me, Madam, I do not love the usuring Jew so well; Beside, 'twas my trick to disguise her so.

_La._ Be not dejected _Mall_.

_Ma._ Your care may comfort me; But I despair of happiness: _Hartlove_, I dare not see him.

_Nur._ We'll withdraw.

_L[a]._ I shall but grieve to see his passions too, Since there's no possibility to relieve him.

_Enter_ Hartlove.

_Ha._ The world's a Labyrinth, where unguided men Walk up and down to find their weariness; No sooner have we measured with much toil One crooked path with hope to gain our freedom, But it betrays us to a new affliction; What a strange mockery will man become Shortly to all the creatures? Oh _Mariah_!

If thou be'st dead, why does thy shadow fright me? Sure 'tis because I live; were I but certain To meet thee in one grave, and that our dust Might have the priviledge to mix in silence, How quickly should my soul shake off this burthen!

_Enter Boy._

[_Boy._] Thus far my wishes have success, I'll lose No time: Sir, are not you call'd Mr. _Hartlove_? Pardon my rudeness.

_Ha._ What does that concern Thee Boy, 'tis a name cannot advantage thee; And I am weary on't.

_Boy._ Had you conceal'd, Or I forgot it, Sir, so large were my Directions, that you could not speak this language, But I should know you by your sorrow.

_Ha._ Thou Wert well inform'd, it seems; well, what's your business?

_Boy._ I come to bring you comfort.

_Ha._ Is _Maria_ Alive agen? that's somewhat, and yet not Enough to make my expectation rise, to Past half a blessing; since we cannot meet To make it up a full one; th'art mistaken.

_Boy._ When you have heard me, you'll think otherwise: In vain I should report _Maria_ living: The comfort that I bring you, must depend Upon her death.

_Ha._ Th'art a dissembling boy, Some one has sent thee to mock me; though my anger Stoop not to punish thy green years unripe For malice; did I know what person sent thee To tempt my sorrow thus, I should reveng it.

_Boy._ Indeed I have no thought so uncharitable, Nor am I sent to grieve you, let me suffer More punishment than ever boy deserv'd, If you do find me false; I serve a Mistriss Would rather dye than play with your misfortunes; Then good Sir hear me out.

_Ha._ Who is your Mistriss?

_Boy._ Before I name her, give me some encouragement, That you receive her message: she is one That is full acquainted with your misery, And can bring such a portion of her sorrow In every circumstance so like your own, You'll love and pity her, and wish your griefs Might marry one anothers.

_Ha._ Thou art wild. Canst thou bring comfort from so sad a creature? Her miserable story can at best, But swell my Volume, large enough already.

_Boy._ She was late belov'd, as you were, promis'd faith And marriage; and was worthy of a better Than he, that stole _Maria_'s heart.

_Ha._ How's that?

_Boy._ Just as _Maria_ dealt with your affection, Did he that married her deal with my Mistriss, When careless both of Honor and Religion; They cruelly gave away their hearts to strangers.

_Ha._ Part of this truth I know, but prethee boy Proceed to that thou cam'st for; thou didst Promise Something, thy language cannot hitherto Encourage me to hope for.

_Boy._ That I come to: My Mistriss thus unkindly dealt withal, You may imagine, wanted no affliction; And had e'r this, wept her self dry as Marble, Had not your fortune come to her relief, And twinn to her own sorrow brought her comfort.

_Ha._ Could the condition of my fate so equal, Lessen her sufferings?

_Boy._ I know not how Companions in grief sometimes diminish And make the pressure easie by degrees: She threw her troubles off, remembring yours, And from her pity of your wrongs, there grew Affection to your person thus increas'd, And with it, confidence, that those whom Nature Had made so even in their weight of sorrow, Could not but love as equally one another, Were things but well prepar'd, this gave her boldness To employ me thus far.

_Ha._ A strange message, boy.

_Boy._ If you incline to meet my Mistriss love, It may beget your comforts; besides that, 'Tis some revenge, that you above their scorn And pride can laugh at them, whose perjury Hath made you happy, and undone themselves.

_Ha._ Have you done boy?

_Boy._ Only this little more; When you but see, and know my Mistriss well, You will forgive my tediousness, she's fair, Fair as _Maria_ was.

_Ha._ I'll hear no more, Go foolish boy, a[n]d tell thy fonder Mistriss She has no second Faith to give away; And mine was given to _Maria_, though her death Allow me freedom, see the Picture of her.

_Enter_ Maria, Nurse.

I would give ten thousand Empires for the substance; Yet for _Maria's_ sake, whose divine Figure That rude frame carries, I will love this counterfeit Above all the world, and had thy Mistriss [all] The grace and blossom of her sex; now she Is gone, that was [a walking] Spring of beauty, I would not look upon her.

_Boy._ Sir, your pardon, I have but done a message, as becomes A servant, nor did she on whose commands I gladly waited, bid me urge her love To your disquiet, she would chide my diligence If I should make you angry.

_Ha._ Pretty boy.

_Boy._ Indeed I fear I have offended you: Pray if I have, enjoyn me any pennance for it: I have perform'd one duty, and could as willingly To purge my fault, and shew I suffer with you, Plead your cause to another.

_Ha._ And I'll take thee At thy word boy, thou hast a moving language, That pretty innocent, Copy of _Maria_ Is all I love, I know not how to speak, Winn her to think well of me, and I will Reward thee to thy wishes.

_Boy._ I undertake Nothing for gain, but since you have resolv'd, To love no other, I'll be faithful to you, And my prophetick thoughts bid me already Say I shall prosper.

_Ha._ Thou wert sent to bless me.

_Boy._ Pray give us opportunity.

_Ha._ Be happy. [_Exit._

_Nur._ He's gone.

_Boy._ With your fair leave Mistriss.

_Ma._ Have you [pusinesse] with her pray you

_Boy._ I have a message from a Gentleman, Please you vouchsafe your ear more private.

_Nur._ You shall have my absence Neece. [_Exit._

_Ma._ Was the sentleman afear'd to declare his matters openly, here was no bodies was not very honest, if her like not her errands the petter, was wist to keep her preaths to cool her porridges, can tell her, that now for aule her private hearings and tawgings.

_Boy._ You may, if please you, find another language. And with less pains be understood.

_Ma._ What is her meaning?

_Boy._ Come, pray speak your own English.

_Ma._ Have boyes lost her itts and memories? [plesse] us aule.

_Boy._ I must be plain then, come, I know you are _Maria_, this thin vail cannot obscure you: I'll tell the world you live, I have not lost ye, Since first with grief and shame to be surpriz'd, A violent trance took away shew of life; I could discover by what accident You were convey'd away at midnight, in Your coffin, could declare the place, and minute, When you reviv'd, [and] what you have done since as perfectly--

_Ma._ Alas, I am betraid to new misfortunes.

_Boy._ You are not, for my knowledge, I'll be dumb For ever, rather than be such a traitor; Indeed I pity you, and bring no thoughts, But full of peace, call home your modest blood, Pale hath too long usurp'd upon your face; Think upon love agen, and the possession Of full blown joyes, now ready to salute you.

_Ma._ These words undo me more than my own griefs. _Boy._ I see how fear would play the tyrant with you, But I'll remove suspition; have you in Your heart, an entertainment for his love To whom your Virgin faith made the first promise?

_Ma._ If thou mean'st _Hartlove_, thou dost wound me still, I have no life without his memory, Nor with it any hope to keep it long: Thou seest I walk in darkness like a thief, That fears to see the world in his own shape, My very shadow frights me, 'tis a death To live thus, and not look day in the face, Away, I know thee not.

_Boy._ You shall hereafter know, and thank me Lady, I'll bring you a discharge at my next visit, Of all your fears, be content, fair _Maria_, 'Tis worth your wonder.

_Ma._ Impossible.

_Boy._ Be wise and silent, Dress your self, you shall be what you wish.

_Ma._ Do this, and be My better Angel.

_Boy._ All your care's on me. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Lurch, _and Boy_.

_Lur._ I must applaud thy diligence.

_Boy._ It had been nothing To have left him in the Porch; I call'd his servants, With wonders they acknowledg'd him, I pretended It was some spice sure of the falling sickness, And that, 'twas charity to bring him home; They rubb'd and chaf'd him, ply'd him with Strong water, Still he was senseless, clamors could not wake him; I wish'd 'em then get him to bed, they did so, And almost smother'd him with ruggs and pillows; And 'cause they should have no cause to suspect me, I watch'd them till he wak'd.

_Lur._ 'Twas excellent.

_Boy._ When his time came to yawn, and stretch himself, I bid 'em not be hasty to discover How he was brought home; his eyes fully open With trembling he began to call his servants, And told 'em he had seen strange visions, That should convert him from his heathen courses; They wondred, and were silent, there he preach'd How sweet the air of a contented conscience Smelt in his nose now, ask'd 'em all forgiveness For their hard pasture since they liv'd with him; Bid 'em believe, and fetch out the cold Sur-loin; Pierce the strong beer, and let the neighbors joy in't: The conceal'd Muskadine should now lie open To every mouth; that he would give to th' poor, And mend their wages; that his doors should be Open to every miserable sutor.

_Lur._ What said his servants then?

_Boy._ They durst not speak, But blest themselves, and the strange means that had Made him a Christian in this over-joy, I took my leave, and bad 'em say their prayers, And humor him, lest he turn'd Jew agen.

_Lur._ Enough, enough. Who's this?

_Enter_ Toby.

'Tis one of my ringers; stand close, my Ladies Coachman.

_To._ Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat; Would I were at rack and manger among my horses; We have divided the Sextons Houshold-stuff among us, one has the rugg, and he's Turn'd Irish, and another has a blanket, and he must beg in't, The sheets serve another for a frock, and with the bed-cord, He may pass for a Porter, nothing but the mat would fall To my share, which with the help of a tune and a hassock Out o'th' Church, may disguise me till I get home; A pox o' bell-ringing by the ear, if any man take me At it agen, let him pull mine to the Pillory: I could wish I had lost mine ears, so I had my cloaths again: The weather wo'not allow this fashion, I do look for an Ague besides.

_Lur._ How the raskal shakes!

_To._ Here are company: Buy a Mat for a Bed, buy a Mat, A hassock for your feet, or a Piss clean and sweet; Buy a Mat for a Bed, buy a Mat: Ringing I renounce thee, I'll never come to church more.

_Lur._ You with a Mat.

_Tob._ I am call'd. If any one should offer to buy my Mat, what a case were I in? Oh that I were in my Oat-tub with a horse-loaf, Something to hearten me: I dare not hear 'em; Buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat.

_Lur._ He's deaf.

_Tob._ I am glad I am: buy a mat for a bed.

_Lur._ How the raskal sweats! What a pickle he's in! Every street he goes through will be a new torment.

_Tob._ If ever I meet at midnight more a jangling: I am cold, and yet I drop; buy a mat for a bed, buy a mat.

_Lur._ He has punishment enough. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Wildbrain.

Who's this, my tother youth? he is turn'd Bear.

_Wild._ I am halfe afraid of my self: this poor shift I got 'o th' Sexton to convey me handsomly To some harbor, the wench will hardly know me; They'll take me for some Watchman o'th' parish; I ha ne'r a penny left me, that's one comfort; And ringing has begot a monstrous stomach, And that's another mischief: I were best go home, For every thing will scorn me in this habit. Besides, I am so full of these young bell-ringers; If I get in adoors, not the power o'th' countrey, Nor all my Aunts curses shall disembogue me.

_Lur._ Bid her come hither presently,--hum, 'tis he. [_Exit. Serv._

_Wild._ I am betraid to one that will eternally laugh at me, Three of these rogues will jeer a horse to death.

_Lur._ 'Tis Mr. _Wildbrain_ sure, and yet me thinks His fashion's strangely alt'red, sirrah Watchman, You ragamuffin, turn you louzie Bears skin: You with the Bed-rid Bill.

_Wild._ H'as found me out; There's no avoiding him, I had rather now Be arraign'd at _Newgate_ for a robbery, Than answer to his Articles: your Will Sir, I am in haste.

_Lur._ Nay, then I will make bold wi'ye; A Watchman, and asham'd to shew his countenance, His face of authority? I have seen that physiognomy; Were you never in prison for pilfering?

_Wild._ How the rogue worries me.

_Lur._ Why may not this Be the villain robb'd my house last night, And walks disguis'd in this malignant rugg, Arm'd with a tun of Iron? I will have you Before a Magistrate.

_Wild._ What will become of me?

_Lur._ What art thou? speak.

_Wild._ I am the wandring Jew, and please your worship.

_Lur._ By your leave _Rabbi_, I will shew you then A Synagogue, iclip't _Bridewel_, where you, Under correction, may rest your self: You have brought a bill to guard you, there be dog-wh[ip]s To firk such rugg'd currs, whips without bells Indeed.

_Wild._ Bells.

_Lur._ How he sweats!

_Wild._ I must be known, as good at first; now jeer on, But do not anger me too impudently, The _Rabbi_ will be mov'd then.

_Lur._ How? _Jack Wildbrain_, What time o'th' Moon man, ha? what strange bells Hast in thy brains?

_Wild._ No more bells, No more bells, they ring backwards.

_Lur._ Why, where's the wench, the blessing that befel thee? The unexpected happiness? where's that _Jack_? Where are thy golden days?

_Wild._ It was his trick, as sure as I am louzie, But how to be reveng'd--

_Lur._ Fie, fie, _Jack_, Marry a Watchmans widow in thy young daies, With a revenue of old Iron and a Rugg? Is this the Paragon, the dainty piece, The delicate divine rogue?

_Wild._ 'Tis enough, I am undone, Mark'd for a misery, and so leave prating; Give me my Bill.

_Lur._ You need not ask your Taylors, Unless you had better Linings; it may be, To avoid suspition, you are going thus Disguis'd to your fair Mistriss.

_Wild._ Mock no further, Or as I live, I'll lay my Bill o' thy pate, I'll take a Watchmans fury into my fingers, To ha no judgement to distinguish persons, And knock thee down.

_Lur._ Come, I ha done, and now Will speak some comfort to thee, I will lead thee Now to my Mistriss hitherto conceal'd; She shall take pity on thee too, she loves A handsome man; thy misery invites me To do thee good, I'll not be jealous, _Jack_; Her beauty shall commend it self; but do not, When I have brought you into grace, supplant me.

_Wild._ Art thou in earnest? by this cold Iron--

_Lur._ No oaths, I am not costive; here she comes.

_Enter Mistriss._

Sweet-heart, I have brought a Gentleman, A friend of mine to be acquainted with you, He's other than he seems; why d'ye stare thus?

_Mist._ Oh Sir, forgive me, I have done ye wrong.

_Lur._ What's the matter? didst ever see her afore _Jack_?

_Wild._ Prethee do what thou wot wi'me, if thou hast A mind, hang me up quickly.

_Lur._ Never despair, I'll give thee my share rather, Take her, I hope she loves thee at first sight, She has petticoats will patch thee up a suit; I resign all, only I'll keep these trifles. I took some pains for 'em, I take it _Jack_; What think you pink of beauty, come let me Counsel you both to marry, she has a trade, If you have audacity to hook in Gamesters: Let's ha a wedding, you will be wondrous rich; For she is impudent, and thou art miserable; 'Twill be a rare match.

_Mist._ As you are a man, forgive me, I'll redeem all.

_Lur._ You wo'not to this geer of marriage then?

_Wild._ No, no, I thank you _Tom_, I can watch for A groat a night, and be every gentlemans fellow. [_Exit Mi._

_Lur._ Rise and be good, keep home and tend your business.

_Wild._ Thou hast don't to purpose, give me thy hand _Tom_; Shall we be friends? thou seest what state I am in, I'll undertake this pennance to my Aunt, Just as I am, and openly I'll goe; Where, if I be received again for currant, And fortune smile once more--

_Lur._ Nay, nay, I'm satisfied, so farewel honest louzie _Jack_.

_Wild._ I cannot help it, some men meet with strange destinies. If things go right thou mayst be hang'd, and I May live to see't, and purchase thy apparel: So farewel _Tom_, commend me to thy Polcat. [_Exit._

_Enter Lady, Nurse, Servant._

_La._ Now that I have my counsel ready, and my cause ripe; The Judges all inform'd of the abuses; Now that he should be gone.

_Nur._ No man knows whether, And yet they talk he went forth with a Constable That told him of strange business that would bring him Money and Lands, and Heaven knows what; but they Have search'd, and cannot find out such an Officer: And as a secret, Madam, they told your man _Nicholas_, whom you sent thither as a spie, They had a shrewd suspition 'twas the devil I' th' likeness of a Constable, that has tempted him: By this time to strange things; there have been men As rich as he, have met convenient rivers, And so forth; many trees have born strange fruits: D'ye think he has not hang'd himself?

_La._ If he be hang'd, who has his goods?

_Nur._ They are forfeited, they say.

_La._ He has hang'd himself for certain then, Only to cosin me of my Girls portion.

_Nur._ Very likely.

_La._ Or did not the Constable carry him to some prison?

_Nu._ They thought on that too, and search'd every where.

_La._ He may be close for treason, perhaps executed.

_Nu._ Nay, they did look among the quarters too, And mustered all the bridge-house for his night-cap.

_Enter Servant._

_Ser._ Madam, here is the gentleman agen.

_La._ What Gentleman?

_Ser._ He that lov'd my young Mistriss.

_La._ Alas, 'tis _Hartlove_, 'twill but feed his melancholy. To let him see _Maria_, since we dare not Yet tell the world she lives; and certainly, Did not the violence of his passion blind him, He would see past her borrowed tongue and habit.

_Nu._ Please you entertain him awhile, Madam, I'll cast about for something with your daughter.

_La._ Do what thou wot, pray Mr. _Hartlove_ enter.

[_Exit Ser. and Nur. severally._

_Enter_ Hartlove.

_Ha._ Madam, I come to ask your gentle pardon.

_La._ Pardon, for what? you ne'r offended me.

_Ha._ Yes, if ye be the mother of _Maria_.

_La._ I was her mother, but that word is cancell'd, And buried with her in that very minute Her soul fled from her; we lost both our names Of mother and of daughter.

_Ha._ Alas, Madam, If your relation did consist but in Those naked terms, I had a title nearer, Since love unites more than the tie of blood; No matter for the empty voice of mother; Your nature still is left, which in her absence Must love _Maria_, and not see her ashes And memory polluted.

_La._ You amaze me, by whom?

_Ha._ By me, I am the vile profaner.

_La._ Why do you speak thus indiscreetly, Sir? You ever honour'd her.

_Ha._ I did [a]live, But since she died, I ha been a villain to her.

_La._ I do beseech you say not so; all this Is but to make me know how much I sinn'd In forcing her to marry.

_Ha._ Do not mock me, I charge you by the Virgin you have wept for; For I have done an impious act against her, A deed able to fright her from her sleep, And through her marble, ought to be reveng'd; A wickedness, that if I should be silent, You as a witness must accuse me for't.

_La._ Was I a witness?

_Ha._ Yes, you knew I lov'd _Maria_ once; or grant, you did but think so, By what I ha profest, or she has told you, Was't not a fault unpardonable in me, When I should drop my tears upon her grave, Yes, and proof sufficient.

_La._ To what?

_Ha._ That I, forgetful of my fame and vows To fair _Maria_, e'r the worm could pierce Her tender shroud, had chang'd her for another; Did you not blush to see me turn a rebel? So soon to court a shadow, a strange thing, Without a name? Did you not curse my levity, Or think upon her death with the less sorrow That she had scap'd a punishment more killing, Oh how I shame to think on't.

_La._ Sir, in my Opinion, 'twas an argument of love To your _Maria_, for whose sake you could Affect one that but carried her small likeness.