Chapter XXII: Act THE FIFTH: 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._

SCENE II.--_A Room in_ Sir DAVY DUNCE'S _House_.

_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE _and_ VERMIN.

_Sir Dav._ I cannot sleep, I shall never sleep again: I have
prayed too so long, that were I to be hanged presently, I have
never a prayer left to help myself: I was no sooner lain down
upon the bed just now, and fallen into a slumber, but methought
the devil was carrying me down Ludgate-hill a-gallop, six
puny fiends with flaming fire-forks running before him like
link-boys, to throw me headlong into Fleetditch, which seemed
to be turned into a lake of fire and brimstone: would it were
morning!

_Ver._ Truly, sir, it has been a very dismal night.

_Sir Dav._ But didst thou meet never a white thing upon the
stairs?

_Ver._ No, sir, not I; but methoughts I saw our great dog
Towzer, with his brass collar on, stand at the cellar-door as I
came along the old entry.

_Sir Dav._ It could never be: Towzer has a chain; had this
thing a chain on?

_Ver._ No, sir, no chain, but it had Towzer's eyes for all the
world.

_Sir Dav._ What, ugly, great, frightful eyes?

_Ver._ Ay, ay, huge saucer eyes, but mightily like Towzer's.

_Sir Dav._ O Lord! O Lord! hark! hark!

_Ver._ What? what I beseech you, sir?

_Sir Dav._ What's that upon the stairs? Didst thou hear
nothing? Hist, hark, pat, pat, pat, hark, hey!

_Ver._ Hear nothing! where, sir?

_Sir Dav._ Look! look! what's that? what's that in the corner
there?

_Ver._ Where?

_Sir Dav._ There.

_Ver._ What, upon the iron chest?

_Sir Dav._ No, the long black thing up by the old clock-case.
See! see! now it stirs, and is coming this way.

_Ver._ Alas, sir, speak to it--you are a justice o' peace--I
beseech you. I dare not stay in the house: I'll call the watch,
and tell 'em hell's broke loose; what shall I do? oh! [_Exit._

_Sir Dav._ O Vermin, if thou art a true servant, have pity on
thy master, and do not forsake me in this distressed condition.
Satan, begone! I defy thee. I'll repent and be saved, I'll say
my prayers, I'll go to church; help! help! help! Was there
anything or no? in what hole shall I hide myself? [_Exit._

_Enter_ Sir JOLLY, FOURBIN, _and_ BLOODY-BONES.

_Sir Jol._ That should be Sir Davy's voice; the waiting-woman,
indeed, told me he was afraid and could not sleep. Pretty
fellows, pretty fellows both; you've done your business
handsomely; what, I'll warrant you have been a-whoring together
now; ha! You do well, you do well, I like you the better for't;
what's o'clock?

_Four._ Near four, sir; 'twill not be day yet these two hours.

_Sir Jol._ Very well, but how got ye into the house?

_Four._ A ragged retainer of the family, Vermin I think they
call him, let us in as physicians sent for by your order.

_Sir Jol._ Excellent rogues! and then I hope all things are
ready, as I gave directions?

_Four._ To a tittle, sir; there shall not be a more critical
observer of your worship's pleasure than your humble servant
the Chevalier Fourbin.

_Sir Jol._ Get you gone, you rogue, you have a sharp nose, and
are a nimble fellow; I have no more to say to you, stand aside,
and be ready when I call: here he comes; hist, hem, hem, hem.

[_Exeunt_ FOURBIN _and_ BLOODY-BONES.

_Re-enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.

_Sir Dav._ Ha! what art thou?
Approach thou like the rugged Bankside bear,
The East-cheap bull, or monster shown in fair,--
Take any shape but that, and I'll confront thee!

_Sir Jol._ Alas, unhappy man! I am thy friend.

_Sir Dav._ Thou canst not be my friend, for I defy thee. Sir
Jolly! neighbour! ha! is it you? are you sure it is you? are
you yourself? if you be, give me your hand. Alas-a-day, I ha'
seen the devil.

_Sir Jol._ The devil, neighbour?

_Sir Dav._ Ay, ay, there's no help for't; at first I fancied
it was a young white bear's cub dancing in the shadow of my
candle; then it was turned to a pair of blue breeches with
wooden legs on, stamped about the room, as if all the cripples
in town had kept their rendezvous there; when all of a sudden,
it appeared like a leathern serpent, and with a dreadful clap
of thunder flew out of the window.

_Sir Jol._ Thunder! why, I heard no thunder.

_Sir Dav._ That may be too; what, were you asleep?

_Sir Jol._ Asleep, quoth-a? no, no; no sleeping this night for
me, I assure you.

_Sir Dav._ Well, what's the best news then? How does the man?

_Sir Jol._ Even as he did before he was born nothing at all;
he's dead.

_Sir Dav._ Dead! what, quite dead?

_Sir Jol._ As good as dead, if not quite dead; 'twas a horrid
murder! and then the terror of conscience, neighbour.

_Sir Dav._ And truly I have a very terrified one, friend,
though I never found I had any conscience at all till now. Pray
whereabout was his death's-wound?

_Sir Jol._ Just here, just under his left pap, a dreadful gash.

_Sir Dav._ So very wide?

_Sir Jol._ Oh, as wide as my hat; you might have seen his
lungs, liver, and heart, as perfectly as if you had been in his
belly.

_Sir Dav._ Is there no way to have him privately buried, and
conceal this murder? Must I needs be hanged by the neck like a
dog, neighbour? Do I look as if I would be hanged?

_Sir Jol._ Truly, Sir Davy, I must deal faithfully with you,
you do look a little suspiciously at present; but have you seen
the devil, say you?

_Sir Dav._ Ay, surely it was the devil, nothing else could have
frighted me so.

_Sir Jol._ Bless us, and guard us all the angels! what's that?

_Sir Dav._ "Potestati sempiternæ cujus benevolentiâ servantur
gentes, et cujus misericordiâ"--

[_Kneels, holding up his hands, and muttering as if he prayed._

_Sir Jol._ Neighbour, where are you, friend, Sir Davy?

_Sir Dav._ Ah, whatever you do, be sure to stand close to me:
where, where is it?

_Sir Jol._ Just, just there, in the shape of a coach and six
horses against the wall.

_Sir Dav._ Deliver us all! he won't carry me away in that coach
and six, will he?

_Sir Jol._ Do you see it? [_Exit._

_Sir Dav._ See it! plain, plain: dear friend, advise me what
I shall do: Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, do you hear nothing? Sir
Jolly--ha! has he left me alone, Vermin?

_Ver._ Sir.

_Sir Dav._ Am I alive? Dost thou know me again? Am I thy
quondam master, Sir Davy Dunce?

_Ver._ I hope I shall never forget you, sir.

_Sir Dav._ Didst thou see nothing?

_Ver._ Yes, sir, methought the house was all a-fire, as it were.

_Sir Dav._ Didst thou not see how the devils grinned and
gnashed their teeth at me, Vermin?

_Ver._ Alas, sir, I was afraid one of 'em would have bit off my
nose, as he vanished out of the door.

_Sir Dav._ Lead me away, I'll go to my wife, I'll die by my
own dear wife. Run away to the Temple, and call Counsellor, my
lawyer; I'll make over my estate presently, I shan't live till
noon; I'll give all I have to my wife. Ha, Vermin!

_Ver._ Truly, sir, she's a very good lady.

_Sir Dav._ Ah, much, much too good for me, Vermin; thou canst
not imagine what she has done for me, man; she would break her
heart if I should give any thing away from her, she loves me so
dearly. Yet if I do die, thou shalt have all my old shoes.

_Ver._ I hope to see you live many a fair day yet though.

_Sir Dav._ Ah, my wife, my poor wife! lead me to my poor wife.
[_Exeunt._

SCENE III.--Lady DUNCE'S _Chamber_.

Lady DUNCE _and_ BEAUGARD _discovered_.

_L. Dunce._ What think you now of a cold wet march over the
mountains, your men tired, your baggage not come up, but at
night a dirty watery plain to encamp upon, and nothing to
shelter you, but an old leaguer cloak as tattered as your
colours? Is not this much better, now, than lying wet, and
getting the sciatica?

_Beau._ The hopes of this made all fatigue easy to me; the
thoughts of Clarinda have a thousand times refreshed me in my
solitude. Whene'er I marched, I fancied still it was to my
Clarinda; when I fought, I imagined it was for my Clarinda; but
when I came home, and found Clarinda lost!--How could you think
of wasting but a night in the rank, surfeiting arms of this
foul-feeding monster, this rotten trunk of a man, that lays
claim to you?

_L. Dunce._ The persuasion of friends, and the authority of
parents.

_Beau._ And had you no more grace than to be ruled by a father
and mother?

_L. Dunce._ When you were gone, that should have given me
better counsel, how could I help myself?

_Beau._ Methinks, then, you might have found out some cleanlier
shift to have thrown away yourself upon than nauseous old age,
and unwholesome deformity.

_L. Dunce._ What, upon some over-grown, full-fed country fool,
with a horse-face, a great ugly head, and a great fine estate;
one that should have been drained and squeezed, and jolted up
and down the town in hackneys with cheats and hectors, and so
sent home at three o'clock every morning, like a lolling booby,
stinking, with a belly-full of stummed wine,[52] and nothing
in's pockets?

_Beau._ You might have made a tractable beast of such a one; he
would have been young enough for training.

_L. Dunce._ Is youth then so gentle, if age be stubborn? Young
men, like springs wrought by a subtle workman, easily ply to
what their wishes press them; but the desire once gone that
kept them down, they soon start straight again, and no sign's
left which way they bent before.

_Sir Jol._ [_At the door peeping._] So, so, who says I see
anything now? I see nothing, not I; I don't see, I don't see, I
don't look, not so much as look, not I. [_He enters._

_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.

_Sir Dav._ I will have my wife, carry me to my wife, let me go
to my wife, I'll live and die with my wife, let the devil do
his worst; ah, my wife, my wife, my wife!

_L. Dunce._ [_To_ BEAUGARD.] Alas! alas! we are ruined! shift
for yourself; counterfeit the dead corpse once more, or
anything.

_Sir Dav._ Ha! whosoe'er thou art thou canst not eat me! speak
to me, who has done this? Thou canst not say I did it.

_Sir Jol._ Did it? did what? Here's nobody says you did
anything that I know, neighbour; what's the matter with you?
what ails you? whither do you go? whither do you run? I tell
you here's nobody says a word to you.

_Sir Dav._ Did you not see the ghost just now?

_Sir Jol._ Ghost! pr'ythee now, here's no ghost; whither would
you go? I tell you, you shall not stir one foot farther, man;
the devil take me if you do. Ghost! pr'ythee, here's no ghost
at all; a little flesh and blood, indeed, there is, some old,
some young, some alive, some dead, and so forth; but ghost!
pish, here's no ghost.

_Sir Dav._ But, sir, if I say I did see a ghost, I did see a
ghost, an you go to that; why, sure I know a ghost when I see
one. Ah, my dear, if thou hadst but seen the devil half so
often as I have seen him!

_L. Dunce._ Alas, Sir Davy! if you ever loved me, come not, oh,
come not near me; I have resolved to waste the short remainder
of my life in penitence, and taste of joys no more.

_Sir Dav._ Alas, my poor child! But do you think there was no
ghost indeed?

_Sir Jol._ Ghost! Alas-a-day, what should a ghost do here?

_Sir Dav._ And is the man dead?

_Sir Jol._ Dead! ay, ay, stark dead, he's stiff by this time.

_L. Dunce._ Here you may see the horrid ghastly spectacle,
the sad effects of my too rigid virtue, and your too fierce
resentment--

_Sir Jol._ Do you see there?

_Sir Dav._ Ay, ay, I do see; would I had never seen him; would
he had lain with my wife in every house between Charing Cross
and Aldgate, so this had never happened!

_Sir Jol._ In truth, and would he had! but we are all mortal,
neighbour, all mortal; to-day we are here, to-morrow gone; like
the shadow that vanisheth, like the grass that withereth, or
like the flower that fadeth; or indeed like anything, or rather
like nothing: but we are all mortal.

_Sir Dav._ Heigh!

_L. Dunce._ Down, down that trap-door, it goes into a
bathing-room; for the rest, leave it to my conduct.

[BEAUGARD _descends_.

_Sir Jol._ 'Tis very unfortunate that you should run yourself
into this _premunire_,[53] Sir Davy.

_Sir Dav._ Indeed, and so it is.

_Sir Jol._ For a gentleman, a man in authority, a person in
years, one that used to go to church with his neighbours.

_Sir Dav._ Every Sunday truly, Sir Jolly.

_Sir Jol._ Pay scot and lot to the parish.

_Sir Dav._ Six pounds a year to the very poor, without
abatement or deduction: 'tis very hard if so good a
commonwealth's-man should be brought to ride in a cart at last,
and be hanged in a sunshiny morning to make butchers and suburb
apprentices a holiday; I'll e'en run away.

_Sir Jol._ Run away! why then your estate will be forfeited;
you'll lose your estate, man.

_Sir Dav._ Truly you say right, friend; and a man had better be
half-hanged than lose his estate, you know.

_Sir Jol._ Hanged! no, no, I think there's no great fear
of hanging neither: what, the fellow was but a sort of an
unaccountable fellow, as I heard you say.

_Sir Dav._ Ay, ay, pox on him, he was a soldierly sort of a
vagabond; he had little or nothing but his sins to live upon:
if I could have had but patience, he would have been hanged
within these two months, and all this mischief saved.

[BEAUGARD _rises up like a ghost at the_
_trap-door, just before_ Sir DAVY.

O Lord! the devil, the devil, the devil! [_Falls upon his face._

_Sir Jol._ Why, Sir Davy, Sir Davy, what ails you? what's the
matter with you?

_Sir Dav._ Let me alone, let me lie still; I will not look up
to see an angel; oh-h-h!

_L. Dunce._ My dear, why do you do these cruel things to
affright me? Pray rise and speak to me.

_Sir Dav._ I dare not stir; I saw the ghost again just now.

_L. Dunce._ Ghost again! what ghost? where?

_Sir Dav._ Why, there! there!

_Sir Jol._ Here has been no ghost.

_Sir Dav._ Why, did you see nothing then?

_L. Dunce._ See nothing! no, nothing but one another.

_Sir Dav._ Then I am enchanted, or my end is near at hand,
neighbour; for Heaven's sake, neighbour, advise me what I shall
do to be at rest.

_Sir Jol._ Do! why, what think you if the body were removed?

_Sir Dav._ Removed! I'd give a hundred pound the body were out
of my house; may be then the devil would not be so impudent.

_Sir Jol._ I have discovered a door-place in the wall betwixt
my lady's chamber and one that belongs to me; if you think fit
we'll beat it down, and remove this troublesome lump of earth
to my house.

_Sir Dav._ But will you be so kind?

_Sir Jol._ If you think it may by any means be serviceable to
you.

_Sir Dav._ Truly, if the body were removed, and disposed of
privately, that no more might be heard of the matter--I hope
he'll be as good as his word. [_Aside._

_Sir Jol._ Fear nothing, I'll warrant you; but in troth I had
utterly forgot one thing, utterly forgot it.

_Sir Dav._ What's that?

_Sir Jol._ Why, it will be absolutely necessary that your lady
stayed with me at my house for one day, till things were better
settled.

_Sir Dav._ Ah, Sir Jolly! whatever you think fit; anything of
mine that you have a mind to; pray take her, pray take her, you
shall be very welcome. Hear you, my dearest, there is but one
way for us to get rid of this untoward business, and Sir Jolly
has found it out; therefore by all means go along with him, and
be ruled by him; and whatever Sir Jolly would have thee do,
e'en do it: so Heaven prosper ye, good-bye, good-bye, till I
see you again. [_Exit._

_Sir Jol._ This is certainly the civilest cuckold in city,
town, or country.

_Beau._ Is he gone? [_Steps out._

_L. Dunce._ Yes, and has left poor me here.

_Beau._ In troth, madam, 'tis barbarously done of him, to
commit a horrid murder on the body of an innocent poor fellow,
and then leave you to stem the danger of it.

_Sir Jol._ Odd, an I were as thee, sweetheart, I'd be revenged
on him for it, so I would. Go, get ye together, steal out of
the house as softly as you can, I'll meet ye in the Piazza
presently; go, be sure ye steal out of the house, and don't let
Sir Davy see you. [_Exeunt._

SCENE IV.--_Entrance Hall in_ Sir DAVY DUNCE'S _House_.

_Enter_ Sir JOLLY JUMBLE.

_Sir Jol._ Bloody-Bones!

_Enter_ BLOODY-BONES.

_Bloody-B._ I am here, sir.

_Sir Jol._ Go you and Fourbin to my house presently; bid
Monsieur Fourbin remember that all things be ordered according
to my directions. Tell my maids, too, I am coming home in a
trice; bid 'em get the great chamber, and the banquet I spoke
for, ready presently. And, d'ye hear, carry the minstrels with
ye too, for I am resolved to rejoice this morning. Let me
see--Sir Davy!

_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.

_Sir Dav._ Ay, neighbour, 'tis I; is the business done? I
cannot be satisfied till I am sure: have you removed the body?
is it gone?

_Sir Jol._ Yes, yes, my servants conveyed it out of the house
just now. Well, Sir Davy, a good morning to you: I wish you
your health, with all my heart, Sir Davy; the first thing you
do, though, I'd have you say your prayers by all means, if you
can.

_Sir Dav._ If I can possibly, I will.

_Sir Jol._ Well, good-bye. [_Exit._

_Sir Dav._ Well, good-bye heartily, good neighbour.--Vermin,
Vermin!

_Enter_ VERMIN.

_Ver._ Did your honour call?

_Sir Dav._ Go run, run presently over the square, and call the
constable presently; tell him here's murder committed, and
that I must speak with him instantly. I'll e'en carry him to
my neighbour's, that he may find the dead body there, and so
let my neighbour be very fairly hanged in my stead; ha! a very
good jest, as I hope to live, ha, ha, ha!--hey, what's that?

_Watchmen._ [_Within._] Almost four o'clock, and a dark cloudy
morning; good-morrow, my masters all, good-morrow!

_Enter_ Constable _and_ Watch.

_Const._ How's this, a door open! Come in, gentlemen.--Ah, Sir
Davy, your honour's humble servant; I and my watch, going my
morning-rounds, and finding your door open, made bold to enter,
to see there were no danger. Your worship will excuse our care;
a good morning to you, sir.

_Sir Dav._ Oh, Master Constable, I'm glad you're here; I sent
my man just now to call you. I have sad news to tell you,
Master Constable.

_Const._ I am sorry for that, sir; sad news!

_Sir Dav._ Oh, ay, sad news, very sad news truly: here has been
murder committed.

_Const._ Murder! if that's all, we are your humble servants,
sir, we'll bid you good-morrow: murder's nothing at this time
o' night in Covent-garden.

_Sir Dav._ Oh, but this is a horrid, bloody murder, done under
my nose; I cannot but take notice of it; though I am sorry to
tell you the authors of it, very sorry truly.

_Const._ Was it committed here near hand?

_Sir Dav._ Oh, at the very next door; a sad murder indeed.
After they had done, they carried the body privately into my
neighbour Sir Jolly's house here; I am sorry to tell it you,
Master Constable, for I am afraid it will look but scurvily on
his side; though I am a justice o' peace, gentlemen, and am
bound by my oath to take notice of it; I can't help it.

_1st Watch._ I never liked that Sir Jolly.

_Const._ He threatened me t'other day for carrying a little,
dirty, draggle-tailed whore to Bridewell, and said she was his
cousin. Sir, if your worship thinks fit, we'll go search his
house.

_Sir Dav._ Oh, by all means, gentlemen, it must be so; justice
must have its course; the king's liege subjects must not be
destroyed.--Vermin, carry Master Constable and his dragons into
the cellar, and make 'em drink; I'll but step into my study,
put on my face of authority, and call upon ye instantly.

_Watchmen._ We thank your honour. [_Exeunt._

SCENE V.--_A Room in_ Sir JOLLY JUMBLE'S _House_. _A banquet set out._

_Enter_ Sir JOLLY JUMBLE, BEAUGARD, _and_
Lady DUNCE.

_Sir Jol._ So, are ye come? I am glad on't; odd, you're
welcome, very welcome, odd, ye are; here's a small banquet,
but I hope 'twill please you; sit ye down, sit ye down both
together; nay, both together: a pox o' him that parts ye, I say!

_Beau._ Sir Jolly, this might be an entertainment for Antony
and Cleopatra, were they living.

_Sir Jol._ Pish! a pox of Antony and Cleopatra, they are dead
and rotten long ago; come, come, time's but short, time's but
short, and must be made the best use of; for

Youth's a flower that soon does fade,
And life is but a span;
Man was for the woman made,
And woman made for man.

Why, now we can be bold, and make merry, and frisk and be
brisk, rejoice, and make a noise, and--odd, I am pleased,
mightily pleased, odd, I am.

_L. Dunce._ Really, Sir Jolly, you are more a philosopher than
I thought you were.

_Sir Jol._ Philosopher, madam! yes, madam, I have read books
in my times; odd, Aristotle, in some things, had very pretty
notions, he was an understanding fellow. Why don't ye eat? odd,
an ye don't eat--here, child, here's some ringoes,[54] help,
help your neighbour a little; odd, they are very good, very
comfortable, very cordial.

_Beau._ Sir Jolly, your health.

_Sir Jol._ With all my heart, old boy.

_L. Dunce._ Dear Sir Jolly, what are these? I never tasted of
these before.

_Sir Jol._ That? eat it, eat it, eat it when I bid you; odd,
'tis the root satyrion,[55] a very precious plant, I gather 'em
every May myself; odd, they'll make an old fellow of sixty-five
cut a caper like a dancing-master. Give me some wine. Madam,
here's a health, here's a health, madam, here's a health to
honest Sir Davy, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! [Dance.

_Enter_ BLOODY-BONES.

_Bloody-B._ Sir, sir, sir! what will you do? yonder's the
constable and all his watch at the door, and threatens
demolishment, if not admitted presently.

_Sir Jol._ Odds so! odds so! the constable and his watch!
what's to be done now? get you both into the alcove there,
get ye gone quickly, quickly; no noise, no noise, d'ye hear?
[_Exeunt_ Lady DUNCE _and_ BEAUGARD.] The constable and his
watch! a pox on the constable and his watch! what the devil
have the constable and his watch to do here?

_Enter_ Constable, Watch, _and_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.

_Const._ This way, this way, gentlemen; stay one of ye at the
door, and let nobody pass, do you hear? Sir Jolly, your servant.

_Sir Jol._ What, this outrage, this disturbance committed upon
my house and family! sir, sir, sir! what do you mean by these
doings, sweet sir? ho!

_Const._ Sir, having received information that the body of a
murdered man is concealed in your house, I am come, according
to my duty, to make search and discover the truth.--Stand to my
assistance, gentlemen.

_Sir Jol._ A murdered man, sir?

_Sir Dav._ Yes, a murdered man, sir. Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, I
am sorry to see a person of your character and figure in the
parish concerned in a murder, I say.

_Sir Jol._ Here's a dog! here's a rogue for you! here's a
villain! here's a cuckoldy son of his mother! I never knew a
cuckold in my life that was not a false rogue in his heart;
there are no honest fellows living but whore-masters. Hark you,
sir, what a pox do you mean? you had best play the fool, and
spoil all, you had; what's all this for?

_Sir Dav._ When your worship's come to be hanged, you'll find
the meaning on't, sir. I say once more, search the house.

_Const._ It shall be done, sir. Come along, friends.

[_Exeunt_ Constable _and_ Watch.

_Sir Jol._ Search my house! O Lord! search my house! what will
become of me? I shall lose my reputation with man and woman,
and nobody will ever trust me again. O Lord! search my house!
all will be discovered, do what I can! I'll sing a song like a
dying swan, and try to give them warning.

Go from the window, my love, my love, my love,
Go from the window, my dear;
The wind and the rain
Have brought 'em back again,
And thou canst have no lodging here.[56]

O Lord! search my house!

_Sir Dav._ Break down that door, I'll have that door broke
open; break down that door, I say. [_Knocking within._

_Sir Jol._ Very well done; break down my doors, break down my
walls, gentlemen! plunder my house! ravish my maids! Ah, cursed
be cuckolds, cuckolds, constables, and cuckolds!

_A door is opened and discovers_ BEAUGARD _and_ Lady DUNCE.
_Re-enter_ Constable _and_ Watch.

_Beau._ Stand off! by Heaven, the first that comes here comes
upon his death.

_Sir Dav._ Sir, your humble servant; I'm glad to see you are
alive again with all my heart. Gentlemen, here's no harm done,
gentlemen; here's nobody murdered, gentlemen; the man's alive,
again, gentlemen; but here's my wife, gentlemen, and a fine
gentleman with her, gentlemen; and Master Constable, I hope
you'll bear me witness, Master Constable.

_Sir Jol._ That he's a cuckold, Master Constable.

[_Aside._

_Beau._ Hark ye, ye curs, keep off from snapping at my heels,
or I shall so feague[57] ye.

_Sir Jol._ Get ye gone, ye dogs, ye rogues, ye night-toads of
the parish dungeon; disturb my house at these unseasonable
hours! get ye out of my doors, get ye gone, or I'll brain ye,
dogs, rogues, villains! [_Exeunt_ Constable _and_ Watch.

_Beau._ And next for you, Sir Coxcomb, you see I am not
murdered, though you paid well for the performance; what think
you of bribing my own man to butcher me?

_Enter_ FOURBIN.

Look ye, sir, he can cut a throat upon occasion, and here's
another dresses a man's heart with oil and pepper, better than
any cook in Christendom.

_Four._ Will your worship please to have one for your breakfast
this morning?

_Sir Dav._ With all my heart, sweetheart, anything in the
world, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha! this is the purest sport,
ha, ha, ha!

_Re-enter_ VERMIN.

_Ver._ Oh, sir, the most unhappy and most unfortunate news!
There has been a gentleman in Madam Sylvia's chamber all this
night, who, just as you went out of doors, carried her away,
and whither they are gone nobody knows.

_Sir Dav._ With all my heart, I am glad on't, child, I would
not care if he had carried away my house and all, man. Unhappy
news, quoth-a! poor fool, he does not know I am a cuckold, and
that anybody may make bold with what belongs to me, ha, ha, ha!
I am so pleased, ha, ha, ha; I think I was never so pleased in
all my life before, ha, ha, ha!

_Beau._ Nay, sir, I have a hank[58] upon you; there are laws
for cut-throats, sir; and as you tender your future credit,
take this wronged lady home, and use her handsomely, use her
like my mistress, sir, do you mark me? that when we think fit
to meet again, I hear no complaint of you; this must be done,
friend.

_Sir Jol._ In troth, and it is but reasonable, very reasonable
in troth.

_L. Dunce._ Can you, my dear, forgive me one misfortune?

_Sir Dav._ Madam, in one word, I am thy ladyship's most
humble servant and cuckold, Sir Davy Dunce, knight, living in
Covent-garden; ha, ha, ha! well, this is mighty pretty, ha, ha,
ha!

_Enter_ SYLVIA, _followed by_ COURTINE.

_Sylv._ Sir Jolly, ah, Sir Jolly, protect me or I'm ruined.

_Sir Jol._ My little minikin, is it thy squeak?

_Beau._ My dear Courtine, welcome.

_Sir Jol._ Well, child, and what would that wicked fellow do to
thee, child? Ha! child, child, what would he do to thee?

_Sylv._ Oh, sir, he has most inhumanly seduced me out of my
uncle's house, and threatens to marry me.

_Cour._ Nay, sir, and she having no more grace before her eyes
neither, has e'en taken me at my word.

_Sir Jol._ In troth, and that's very uncivilly done: I don't
like these marriages, I'll have no marriages in my house, and
there's an end on't.

_Sir Dav._ And do you intend to marry my niece, friend?

_Cour._ Yes, sir, and never ask your consent neither.

_Sir Dav._ In troth, and that's very well said: I am glad on't
with all my heart, man, because she has five thousand pounds to
her portion, and my estate's bound to pay it. Well, this is the
happiest day, ha, ha, ha!

Here, take thy bride, like man and wife agree,
And may she prove as true--as mine to me.

Ha, ha, ha!

_Beau._ Courtine, I wish thee joy: thou art come opportunely
to be a witness of a perfect reconcilement between me and that
worthy knight, Sir Davy Dunce; which to preserve inviolate,
you must, sir, before we part, enter into such covenants for
performance as I shall think fit.

_Sir Dav._ No more to be said; it shall be done, sweetheart:
but don't be too hard upon me; use me gently, as thou didst my
wife; gently, ha, ha, ha! a very good jest, i' faith, ha, ha,
ha! or if he should be cruel to me, gentlemen, and take this
advantage over a poor cornuto, to lay me in a prison, or throw
me in a dungeon, at least--

I hope amongst all you, sirs, I shan't fail
To find one brother-cuckold out for bail. [_Exeunt._

FOOTNOTES:

[48] Getting bespattered while roving about.

[49] Whipping.

[50] Truly.

[51] A strong inclination.

[52] Strong new wine.

[53] A writ in common law, penalty, difficulty.

[54] Eringoes, the holly plant, which was considered to be an aphrodisiac.

[55] Another aphrodisiac.

[56] This ballad often occurs in the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, and particularly in _Monsieur Thomas_.

[57] Whip.

[58] Hold.