SCENE I.--SYLVIA'S _Chamber_.

COURTINE _discovered bound on a couch_.

_Cour._ Heigho! heigho! Ha! where am I? Was I drunk or no, last night? Something leaning that way. But where the devil am I? sincerely in a bawdy-house: faugh! what a smell of sin is here! Let me look about; if there be ever a Geneva Bible or a _Practice of Piety_ in the room, I am sure I have guessed right. What's the matter now? tied fast! bound too! What tricks have I played to come into this condition? I have lighted into the territories of some merrily-disposed chambermaid or other; and she in a witty fit, forsooth, hath trussed me up thus: has she pinned no rags to my tail, or chalked me upon the back, trow? Would I had her mistress here at a venture!

_Enter_ SYLVIA _and_ Maid.

_Sylv._ What would you do with her, my enchanted knight, if you had her? you are too sober for her by this time: next time you get drunk, you may perhaps venture to scale her balcony like a valiant captain as you are.

_Cour._ Hast thou done this, my dear destruction? and am I in thy limbo? I must confess, when I am in my beer, my courage does run away with me now and then; but let me loose, and thou shalt see what a gentle humble animal thou hast made me. Fie upon't! what, tie me up like an ungovernable cur to the frame of a table! let, let thy poor dog loose, that he may fawn and make much of thee a little.

_Sylv._ What, with those paws which you have been ferreting Moor-fields withal, and are very dirty still? After you have been daggling[48] yourself abroad for prey, and can meet with none, you come sneaking hither for a crust, do you?

_Maid._ Shall I fetch the whip and the bell, madam, and slash him for his roguery soundly?

_Cour._ Indeed, indeed! Do you long to be ferking[49] of man's flesh, madam flea-trap? Does the chaplain of the family use you to the exercise, that you are so ready for it?

_Sylv._ If you should be let loose, and taken into favour now, you would be for rambling again so soon as you had got your liberty.

_Cour._ Do but try me, and if ever I prove recreant more, let me be beaten and used like a dog in good earnest.

_Sylv._ Promise to grant me but one request, and it shall be done.

_Cour._ Hear me but swear.

_Sylv._ That anybody may do ten thousand times a-day.

_Cour._ Upon the word of a gentleman; nay, as I hope to get money in pocket.

_Sylv._ There I believe him, lelely.[50] You'll keep your word, you say?

_Cour._ If I don't, hang me up in that wench's old garters.

_Sylv._ See, sir, you have your freedom. [_Unbinds him._

_Cour._ Well, now name the price; what I must pay for't?

_Sylv._ You know, sir, considering our small acquaintance, you have been pleased to talk to me very freely of love-matters.

_Cour._ I must confess, I have been something to blame that way; but if ever thou hearest more of it from my mouth after this night's adventure--would I were well out of the house!

_Sylv._ Have a care of swearing, I beseech you; for you must understand that, spite of my teeth, I am at last fallen in love most unmercifully.

_Cour._ And dost thou imagine I am so hard-hearted a villain as to have no compassion of thee?

_Sylv._ No, for I hope he's a man you can have no exceptions against.

_Cour._ Yes, yes, the man is a man, I'll assure you, that's one comfort.

_Sylv._ Who do you think it may be now? try if you can guess him.

_Cour._ Whoever he is, he's an honest fellow, I'll warrant him, and I believe will not think himself very unhappy neither.

_Sylv._ If a fortune of five thousand pounds, pleasant nights, and quiet days, can make him happy, I assure you he may be so; but try once to guess at him.

_Cour._ But if I should be mistaken?

_Sylv._ Why, who is it you would wish me to?

_Cour._ You have five thousand pound, you say?

_Sylv._ Yes.

_Cour._ Faith, child, to deal honestly, I know well enough who 'tis I wish for; but, sweetheart, before I tell you my inclinations, it were but reasonable that I knew yours.

_Sylv._ Well, sir, because I am confident you will stand my friend in the business, I'll make a discovery; and to hold you in suspense no longer, you must know I have a month's mind[51] to an arm-full of your dearly-beloved friend and brother captain; what say you to't?

_Cour._ Madam, your humble servant; good-bye, that's all.

_Sylv._ What, thus cruelly leave a lady that so kindly took you in, in your last night's pickle, into her lodging? whither would you rove now, my wanderer?

_Cour._ Faith, madam, you have dealt so gallantly in trusting me with your passion, that I cannot stay here without telling you, that I am three times as much in love with an acquaintance of yours, as you can be with any friend of mine.

_Sylv._ Not with my waiting-woman, I hope, sir.

_Cour._ No, but it is with a certain kinswoman of thine, child; they call her my Lady Dunce, and I think this is her house too; they say she will be civil upon a good occasion, therefore, pr'ythee be charitable, and show the way to her chamber a little.

_Sylv._ What, commit adultery, captain? fie upon't! what, hazard your soul?

_Cour._ No, no, only venture my body a little, that's all; look you, you know the secret, and may imagine my desires, therefore as you would have me assist your inclinations, pray be civil and help me to mine; look you, no demurring upon the matter, no qualms, but show me the way--[_To the_ Maid] or you, hussy, you shall do't; any bawd will serve at present, for I will go. [_Exit_ Maid.

_Sylv._ But you shan't go, sir.

_Cour._ Shan't go, lady?

_Sylv._ No, shan't go, sir; did I not tell you when once you had got your liberty, that you would be rambling again.

_Cour._ Why, child, wouldst thou be so uncharitable to tie up a poor jade to an empty rack in thy stable, when he knows where to go elsewhere, and get provender enough?

_Sylv._ Any musty provender, I find, will serve your turn, so you have it but cheap, or at another man's charges.

_Cour._ No, child, I had rather my ox should graze in a field of my own, than live hide-bound upon the common, or run the hazard of being pounded every day for trespasses.

_Sylv._ Truly, all things considered, 'tis a great pity so good a husbandman as you should want a farm to cultivate.

_Cour._ Wouldst thou be but kind, and let me have a bargain in a tenement of thine, to try how it would agree with me!

_Sylv._ And would you be contented to take a lease for your life?

_Cour._ So pretty a lady of the manor, and a moderate rent!

_Sylv._ Which you'll be sure to pay very punctually?

_Cour._ If thou doubtest my honesty, faith, e'en take a little earnest beforehand.

_Sylv._ Not so hasty neither, good tenant. _Imprimis_, you shall oblige yourself to a constant residence, and not, by leaving the house uninhabited, let it run to repairs.

_Cour._ Agreed.

_Sylv. Item_, for your own sake you shall promise to keep the estate well fenced and inclosed, lest some time or other your neighbour's cattle break in and spoil the crop on the ground, friend.

_Cour._ Very just and reasonable, provided I don't find it lie too much to common already.

_Sylv. Item_, you shall enter into strict covenant not to take any other farm upon your hands, without my consent and approbation; or, if you do, that then it shall be lawful for me to get me another tenant, how and where I think fit.

_Cour._ Faith, that's something hard though, let me tell you but that, landlady.

_Sylv._ Upon these terms, we'll draw articles.

_Cour._ And when shall we sign them?

_Sylv._ Why, this morning, as soon as the ten o'clock office in Covent-garden is open.

_Cour._ A bargain; but how will you answer your entertainment of a drunken red-coat in your lodgings at these unseasonable hours?

_Sylv._ That's a secret you will be hereafter obliged to keep for your own sake; and for the family, your friend Beaugard shall answer for us there.

_Cour._ Indeed I fancied the rogue had mischief in his head, he behaved himself so soberly last night: has he taken a farm lately too?

_Sylv._ A trespasser, I believe, if the truth were known, upon the provender you would fain have been biting at just now.

_Re-enter_ Maid.

_Maid._ Madam, madam, have a care of yourself: I see lights in the great hall; whatever is the matter, Sir Davy and all the family are up.

_Cour._ I hope they'll come, and catch me here: well, now you have brought me into this condition, what will you do with me, ha?

_Sylv._ You won't be contented for awhile to be tied up like a jade to an empty rack without hay, will you?

_Cour._ Faith, e'en take me, and put thy mark upon me quickly, that if I light into strange hands they may know me for a sheep of thine.

_Sylv._ What, by your wanting a fleece do you mean? If it must be so, come follow your shepherdess. Ba-a-a! [_Exeunt._