Part 20

TAF. Captain Puff, for my last husband's sake, With whom you were so familiarly acquainted, I am content to wink at these rude tricks; But hence! trouble me no more; if you do, I shall lay you fast, where you shall see No sun or moon.

CAPT. PUFF. Nor yet the northern pole! A fico for the sun and moon: let me live in a hole, So these two stars may shine.

TAF. Sir, get you gone, You swaggering cheating Turnbull Street[386] rogue, Or I will hale you to the common gaol, Where lice shall eat you.

CAPT. PUFF. Go to, I shall spurn And flesh[387] your petticoat.

TAF. Run to the Counter, Fetch me a red-bearded Serjeant:[388] I'll make You, captain, think the devil of hell is come To fetch you, if he once fasten on you.

CAPT. PUFF. Damn thee and thy Serjeants, thou mercer's punk, Thus will I kick thee and thy farthingales.

[_Kicks at her petticoat._]

O. SMALL. Hold, captain!

CAPT. PUFF. What, do you cast your whelps? What, have I found you, sir? have not I plac'd My sakers, culverings, demi-culverings, My cannons, demi-cannons, basilisks, Upon her breach, and do I not stand Ready with my pike to make my entry, And are you come to man her?

O. SMALL. Good captain, hold.

CAPT. PUFF. Are not her bulwarks, parapets, trenches, Scarps, counter-scarps,[389] fortifications, Curtains, shadows, mines, counter-mines, Rampiers,[390] forts, ditches, works, water-works, And is not her half-moon mine? and do you bring A rescue, goodman knight?

TAF. Call up my men.

_Enter_ O. SMALL, _and two or three others with clubs_.

Where be these knaves? bare they no ears or hearts? Bear hence this rascal; some other fetch a warrant: I'll teach him to know himself.

JUS. TUT. Down with the slave.

O. SMALL. Tis not your beard shall carry it; down with the rogue.

CAPT. PUFF. Not Hercules 'gainst twenty.

[_Exit_ PUFF.

JUS. TUT. Ah, sirrah! I knew[391] my hands no longer could forbear him: Why did you not strike the knave, Sir Oliver?

O. SMALL. Why, so I did.

JUS. TUT. But then it was too late.

O. SMALL. What would you have me do, when I was down, And he stood thundering with his weapon drawn,

_Enter_ ADRIANA.

Ready to cut my throat?

ADRI. The rogue is gone, And here's one from the lady Sommerfield. To intreat you come with all the speed you can To Saint John's Street.

JUS. TUT. Which I will do.

TAF. Gentlemen, I am sorry you should be thus disturb'd Within my house; but now all fear is pass'd, You are most welcome: supper ended, I'll give a gracious answer to your suit; Meanwhile, let nought dismay or keep you mute. [_Exit._

_Enter_ THROAT, FRANCES, _and_ DASH.

THROAT. Pay the coachman, Dash, pay him well, And thank him for his speed. Now _Vivat Rex_, The knot is knit, which not the law itself, With all his Hydra-heads and strongest nerves. Is able to disjoin: now let him hang, Fret out his guts, and swear the stars from heaven-- He never shall enjoy you; you shall be rich. Your lady-mother this day came to town In your pursuit: we will but shift some rags, And straight go take her blessing.

FRAN. That must not be; Furnish me with jewels, and then myself, Attended by your man and honest Beard, Will thither first, and with my lady-mother Crave a peace for you.

THROAT. I like that well; Her anger somewhat calm'd, I brisk and fine, Some half hour after will present myself As son-in-law unto her, which she must needs Accept with gracious looks.

FRAN. Ay, when she knows Before by me, from what an eminent plague Your wisdom has preserv'd me.

THROAT. Ay, that, that-- That will strike it dead. But here comes Beard.

_Enter_ BEARD.

BEARD. What, are you sure I tied fast by heart and hand?

THROAT. I now do call her wife, she now is mine, Seal'd and deliver'd by an honest priest At Saint Giles's in the Fields.

BEARD. God give you joy, sir.

THROAT. But where's mad Small-shanks?

BEARD. O, hard at hand, And almost mad with loss of his fair bride; Let not my lovely mistress be seen; And see, if you can draw him to compound For all his title to her: I have serjeants, Ready to do the feat, when time shall serve.

THROAT. Stand you aside, dear love[392]; nay, I will firk My silly novice, as he was never firk'd, Since midwives bound his noddle: here they come.

_Enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS, THOMAS SMALL-SHANKS, _and_ BOUTCHER.

W. SMALL. O Master Throat, unless you speak good news, My hopes are cross'd, and I undone for ever!

THROAT. I never thought you'd come to other end; Your courses have been always so profane, Extravagant and base.

W. SMALL. Nay, good sir, hear: Did not my love return? came she not hither? For Jove's love, speak.

THROAT. Sir, will you get you gone, And seek your love elsewhere? for know, my house Is not to entertain such customers As you and your comrades.

W. SMALL. Is the man mad Or drunk? Why, Master Throat, know you to whom You talk so saucily?

THROAT. Why, unto you And to your brother Small-shanks: will you be gone?

BOUT. Nay, good sir, hold us not in this suspense; Answer directly: came not the virgin hither?

THROAT. Will you be gone directly? are you mad? Come you to seek a virgin in Ram-Alley, So near an inn-of-court, and amongst cooks, Ale-men, and laundresses? why, are you fools?

W. SMALL. Sir, leave this firk of law, or, by this light, I'll give your throat a slit. Came she not hither? Answer to that point.

THROAT. What, have you lost her? Come, do not gull your friends.

W. SMALL. By heaven, she's gone, Unless she be return'd since we last left you.

THROAT. Nay, then, I cry you mercy; she came not hither, As I am an honest man: is't possible, A maid so lovely fair, so well-demean'd, Should be took from you? what, you three-- So young, so brave, and valiant gentlemen-- Sure, it cannot be!

T. SMALL. Afore God, 'tis true.

W. SMALL. To our perpetual shame, 'tis now too true.

THROAT. Is she not left behind you in the tavern? Are you sure you brought her out? were you not drunk, And so forgot her?

W. SMALL. A pox on all such luck! I will find her, or, by this good light, I'll fire all the city. Come, let's go: Whoever has her shall not long enjoy her, I'll prove a contract; let us walk the round. I'll have her, if she keep above the ground. [_Exit._

THROAT. Ha, ha, ha! he makes me sport, i' faith. The gull is mad, stark-mad. Dash, draw the bond, And a release of all his interest In this my loved wife.

BEARD. Ay, be sure of that, For I have certain goblins in buff jerkins[393]

_Re-enter_ WILLIAM SMALL-SHANKS _with the Serjeants_.

Lie in ambuscado for him.

OFFICER. I arrest you, sir.

W. SMALL. Rescue! rescue!

THROAT. O, he is caught.

W. SMALL. I'll give you bail: Hang off, honest catchpoles. Master Throat, good, wise, Learned and honest Master Throat, now, now-- Now or never, help me.

THROAT. What's the matter?

W. SMALL. Here are two retainers, hangers-on, sir, Which will consume more than ten liveries; If by your means they be not straight shook off-- I am arrested.

THROAT. Arrested! what's the sum?

W. SMALL. But thirteen pounds, due to Beard the butler: Do but bail me, and I will save you harmless.

THROAT. Why, here's the end of it[394]: I know the law; If you be bail'd by me, the debt is mine, Which I will undertake--

W. SMALL. La[395] there, rogues: Foot! I knew he would not let me want For thirteen pounds.

THROAT. Provided you seal a release Of all your claim to Mistress Sommerfield.

W. SMALL. Serjeants, do your kind: hale me to the hole. Seal a release? Serjeants, come: to prison! Seal a release for Mistress Sommerfield? First I will stink in jail, be eat with lice, Endure an object worse than the devil himself, And that's ten Serjeants peeping through the grates Upon my lousy linen. Come to jail: Foot, a release!

T. SMALL. There's no conscience in it.

BOUT. 'Tis a demand uncharitable.

THROAT. Nay, choose.

_Enter_ FRANCES.

FRAN. I can hold no longer; impudent man--

W. SMALL. My wife! foot! my wife! let me go, serjeants.

FRAN. O thou perfidious man! dar'st thou presume To call her wife, whom thou so much hast wrong'd? What conquest hast thou got to wrong a maid, A silly harmless maid? what glory is't, That thou hast thus deceived a simple virgin, And brought her from her friends? what honour was't For thee to make the butler lose his office, And run away with thee! Your tricks are known; Didst thou not swear thou shouldst be baronis'd? And hadst both lands and fortunes, both which thou want'st?

W. SMALL. Foot, that's not my fault: I would have lands, If I could get 'em.

FRAN. I know your tricks; And know I now am wife unto this man.

OMNES. How?

THROAT. I thank her, sir, she has now vouchsaf'd To cast herself on me.

FRAN. Therefore subscribe; Take somewhat of him for a full release, And pray to God to make you an honest man: If not, I do protest by earth and heaven, Although I starve, thou never shalt enjoy me.

BEARD. Her vow is pass'd, nor will she break her word; Look to it, micher.

FRAN. I hope he will compound.

W. SMALL. Foot, shall I give two thousand pounds a year For nothing?

T. SMALL. Brother, come: be rul'd by me. Better to take a little than lose all.

BOUT. You see she's resolute; y'had best compound.

W. SMALL. I'll first be damn'd, ere I will lose my right, Unless he give me up my forfeit mortgage, And bail me of this action.

FRAN. Sir, you may choose: What is the mortgage worth?

W. SMALL. Let's have no whispering.

THROAT. Some forty pounds a year.

FRAN. Do it, do it. Come, you shall do it, we will be rid of him At any rate.

THROAT. Dash, go fetch his mortgage. [_Exit_ DASH. So that your friends be bound, you shall not claim Title, right, possession, in part or whole, In time to come, in this my loved wife: I will restore the mortgage, pay this debt, And set you free.

W. SMALL. They shall not.

BOUT. We will. Come, draw the bonds, and we will soon subscribe them.

_Enter_ DASH.

THROAT. They're ready-drawn; here's his release: Serjeants, let him go.

DASH. Here's the mortgage, sir.

W. SMALL. Was ever man thus cheated of a wife! Is this my mortgage?

THROAT. The very same, sir.

W. SMALL. Well, I will subscribe. God give you joy, Although I have but little cause to wish it, My heart will scarce consent unto my hand. 'Tis done.

THROAT. You give this as your deed?

OMNES. We do.

THROAT. Certify them, Dash.

W. SMALL. What! am I free?

THROAT. You are: serjeants, I discharge you. There's your fees.

BEARD. Not so; I must have money.

THROAT. I'll pass my word.

BEARD. _Foutre!_ words are wind: I say, I must have money.

THROAT. How much, sir?

BEARD. Three pounds in hand, and all the rest to-morrow.

THROAT. There's your sum. Now, officers, be gone, Each take his way; I must to Saint John's Street, And see my lady-mother: she's now in town, And we to her shall straight present our duties.

T. SMALL. O Jove! shall we lose the wench thus?

W. SMALL. Even thus. Throat, farewell: since 'tis thy luck to have her, I still shall pray you long may live together. Now each to his affairs.

THROAT. Good night to all. [_Exeunt_ W.S., T.S., _and_ BOUT. Dear wife, step in. Beard and Dash, come hither: Here take this money: go borrow jewels Of the next goldsmith: Beard, take thou these books, Go both to the broker's in Fetter Lane, Lay them in pawn for a velvet jerkin And a double ruff: tell him, he shall have As much for a loan to-night, as I do give Usury for a whole circuit; which done, You two shall man her to her mother's: go.