Classic Poem

ACT IV. SCENE I.

Aimwell's Lodgings .

Enter AIMWELL and Sensible .

Aim . Can this be true?
Sens . As I have faith to heaven.
Aim . Take this, and this, [and this,] for thy sweet story.
Thou hast entranced me with thy language: laden
With my despairs, like a distressed bark
I gave myself up lost in the imagin'd
Tempest; but at point of striking
Upon a rock, what a celestial gale
Makes my sails swell with comfort! and enforcing
My ship into the channel, I do feel it
Bound on the waves, discretion at the helm,
Which passion had forsaken; I now bless
The minute I weigh'd anchor; oh, my destiny,
Dwell longer on this thread, and make it firm;
Upon it hangs the weight of such a fortune,
That, if it crack, will, swifter than Jove's flaming
Arrow, dig my grave in the earth's centre.
Forgive me, sacred sex of women, that,
In thought or syllable, I have declaim'd
Against your goodness, I will redeem it
With such religious honouring your names,
That when I die, some ne'er thought-stain'd virgin
Shall make a relic of my dust, and throw
My ashes, like a charm, upon those men
Whose faiths they hold suspected. To what pitch
Of blessedness are my thoughts mounted!
Sens . Sir,
This is an opportunity for action;
Time will run fast upon the minute.
Aim . Pardon
The trespass of my joy, it makes me wild;
I am too well rewarded for my' suffering,
Promise thyself a noble recompense.

Enter MANLY and CLARE .

Man . Come, have you finish'd your discourse yet?
Aim . You are my friends;
I was deceived in my Violetta,
She loves, she has sent me proof; but a mistake
Sent back my letter, and detain'd her answer,
Which was betray'd to her father. But keep your wonder
To honour her rare wit, which, if the stars
Shew themselves not malicious, will assure
All my desires in her; a divine project;
She is the master-engine; you must work too,
Will you not, friends?
Clare. Man . You know you may command us.
Aim . Then spread your bosoms; you shall straight procure
A caroch be ready on the back side of my lodging;
Do not lose time in questioning; my fate
Depends upon your haste.
Man . Promise it done.
Aim . You shall disguise youself; I must employ you
In rougher action.
Clare . I refuse no office
To advance your hopes.
Aim . My certainties: on thee
The frame of our whole building leans. Come on.
Move slowly, time, until our work be done.

SCENE II.

A Room in Richley's House .

Enter VIOLETTA and Tutor.

Vio . I was not blind to your deserts,
Nor can be so ungrateful now, as not
To give encouragement to your affection;
My father may command my person, never
My love, to marry Treedle
Tutor . He is an ass; I made his best verses for him.
Vio . I thought his fancy could not reach them.
Tutor . His sconce is drier than a pumice.
Vio . There be ways to prevent marriage, for I'm already changed.
Tutor . You are wise; let us run away together.
Vio . But how shall I be sure your love is firm?
Tutor . Try me, and trust me after.
Vio . And I will, for it shall be a hard task I will impose on you; dare you fight?
Tutor . If I like my enemy.
Vio . It is a poor old fellow.
Tutor . Then I will kill him; his name?
Vio . My father's servant, Brains.
Tutor . He is dead
By this time.
Vio . Stay, there is a circumstance
To be observed: by some means I'll procure
He waits on me to the Strand this afternoon — —

Enter TREEDLE , and WHIBBLE , who is busied in adjusting the knight's dress .

Sir Nicholas! — — your ear for the rest.
Tutor . He will suspect nothing by our privacy;
He bad me take occasion to urge
His good parts to you: should he ask, I'd swear
I did but press his commendations.
Treed . Is thy name Whibble?
Whib . Yes, an't please your worship.
Treed . I like thee the better for that; my name's Treedle.
Whib . I thank your worship.
Treed . Hast done hooking o' me?
Whib . Every eye hath his object already.
Treed . A witty knave! what place dost thou occupy under thy master?
Whib . I am commonly his journeyman, sir.
Treed . How?
Whib . I look to his horses, sir.
Treed . Wilt serve me when I'm married?
Whib . Alas! I have no good parts to commend me.
Treed . No good parts! an thou hast but skill in horses and dogs, thou art fit for any gentleman in England.
Vio . Just at that place assault him.
Tutor . By your fair hand I will.
Vio . [ coming forward .] Mydelight, how fare you?
Treed . I am studying some witty poesy for thy wedding-ring; let me see —
Vio . Trouble not your head. — Whibble, entreat my father hither.
Treed . No matter; I will send to the university.
Vio . Were you ever of any college?
Treed . College! I have had a head in most of the butteries of Cambridge, and it has been sconced to purpose. I know what belongs to sizing, and have answered to my cue in my days; I am free of the whole university, I commenced with no worse than his majesty's footmen.
Vio . And ever since you have had a running wit. You were better consult our wits at home; we have excellent poets in the town, they say.
Treed . In the town? What makes so many scholars then come from Oxford and Cambridge, like market-women, with dorsers full of lamentable tragedies, and ridiculous comedies, which they might here vent to the players, but they will take no money for them.
Vio . Oh, my dearest! How happy shall I be when I'm married.

Enter RICHLEY and WORTHY

Wor . Look! they are ingendering at the lip.
Rich . I like it well.
Vio . Why are our joys deferr'd?
Rich . But till to-morrow.
Vio . 'Tis an age, methinks.
Treed . Kind worm!
Wor . This cannot be deceit.
Vio . I want some trifles, the Exchange will furnish me;
Let it be your motion to my father.
Treed . Father and uncle, you will excuse our familiar conversation, I vow I will be honest till I be married; not a touch of my flesh within the walls, only the suburbs of her lips or hands, or so, and when, and when? — is to morrow the day, the day of coupling and so forth? have you got a license?
Rich . It shall be my next work.
Treed . Pray do, we will be married here, but keep our wedding at my own house at Croydon, we will have the city waites down with us, and a noise of trumpets, we can have drums in the country, and the train-band, and then let the Spaniards come an they dare! — Dost hear? here is twenty pieces, you shall fribble them away at the Exchange presently.
Rich . How, sir?
Treed . By this gold she shall, father. — Lay it out in tooth-picks, I will wear them in my hat. — Come,
I will with you for the license.
Rich . Who shall with her?
Wor . I must attend a project of my daughter's.

Rich . Brains!

Enter BRAINS .

Bra . Sir.
Rich . Wait on my daughter to the Exchange; observe her carefully.
Bra . Point me a minute to return with her; if I fail, put my brains into the pot, and let them be served up with a calf's head, to-morrow [for] dinner.
Vio . It succeeds to my wish.
Treed . Violetta, look you lay out my gold at the Exchange in Bartholomew-fairings; farewell, Viotetta.
Bra . Come, mistress, will you walk? I would fain see any mortal wit cozen me of my charge now. I will live to be the shame of politicians, and when I am dead, be clapt up into the Chronicles.

SCENE III.

A Room in Worthy's House .

Enter FOWLER .

Fow . Ah, the desire of unlawful flesh! what a conjuring dost thou keep within us to lay this little spirit of concupiscence! The world and the devil are tame and sprightless temptations, poor traffic, to this staple commodity of whoring: this is the place where I must take shipping for the summer islands; if she keep touch, I will call them Fortunate, and once a week make a love voyage to them. [ Music within ] — Ha! are we entertained with music?

SONG.

Back, back again! fond man forbear ,
Buy not a minute's play too dear;
Come with holy flame, and be
Welcome to virtue and to me.

FOW . Come with holy flame, and be
Welcome to virtue and to me.
Flame! I bring none with me, and I should be sorry to meet any fireworks here; for those hereafter I look on them afar off, and apprehend them with less fear. — Again!

SONG.

Love a thousand sweets distilling ,
And with nectar bosoms filling,
Charm all eyes that none may find us;
Be above, before, behind us;
And, while we thy pleasures taste,
Enforce time itself to stay,
And by [the] fore-lock hold him fast,
Lest occasion slip away.

Fow . Ay, marry, this is another manner of invitement; I will to her; but —

Enter WINNIFRIDE .

Here comes the squire of her mistress's body, —
How does my little taper of virgin wax? thou hast been in some damp, thou bnrn'st blue, methinks.
Win. [in a hoarse voice.] Noble sir.
Fow . What! a cold?
Win . A great cold; I have lost my voice.
Fow . An thou hast not lost thy maidenhead, it is no matter; have a little care of thy frank tenement, and thy tongue will come time enough to itself, I'll warrant thee: what place has she chosen for the encounter?
Win . Her chamber.
Fow . Her chamber!
Win . It is all dark.
Fow . Is it all dark? I commend her policy the better; then the room, and the deed that must be done in it, will be of one complexion; so she be light I care not: prithee convey me to her.
Win . Follow me.
Fow . As thy shadow. — Woe be to some of the dear sex when a chambermaid is usher to a gentleman.

SCENE IV.

Another Room in the same, darkened.

Enter PENELOPE and WORTHY .

Pen . It shall be a harmless trial, sir.
Wor . Go to; I know thou art virtuous; put in execution thy purpose, I will be within the reach of thy voice.
Pen . It shall be my security. —
What ill star ruled at my nativity,
That I should be so miserable to love
A man, whose glory is his vice, whose study
Is but to ruin virtue!

Enter WINNIFRIDE .

Win . Mistress!
Pen . Here, Winnifride.
Win . The gamester waits his entrance, jocund as a bridegroom; he has forgot his fever.
Pen . Away; you know your charge; be ready.
[ Exit Win. Pen. goes to the door, and speaks hoarsely .] — Where are you, sir? Master Fowler.

Enter FOWLER .

Fow . [In] hell, if darkness will carry it; yet hell cannot be so black, there are too many flames in it. Thy hand, what monk's hole hast thou brought me to? where is thy mistress?
Pen . This is the way.
Fow . Is this the way? it is a very blind one; the devil can hardly know me if he meet me here, that is my comfort: yet if he did, he loves the sin too well to interrupt so precious a meeting. Prithee, child of darkness, conduct me to the handsome fairy I must dance withal.
Pen . It seems your fever hath left you.
Fow . My fever! I forget myself, I should have counterfeited sick all this while, but no matter, an thy mistress know it not; thou art skilful in secrets, and I will deserve it: two or three fits when I am in her presence, will make her keep her promise with me about the cure, for that she thinks I was so: Prithee do thy office, and bring me to her; I hope she is not within hearing.
Pen . Fear not.
Fow . So, about it then.
Pen . There is a fee belongs to my place first.
Fow . A fee belonging to your place? as I hope for a limb of thy mistress I had forgot it; there is gold, I can feel it: by this darkness, for thou seest I have no light to swear by, it is weight; quick, periwinkle! to thy mistress, now.
Pen . This is not enough.
Fow . There is more; take silver and all.
Pen . This is nothing.
Fow . Is it nothing? by this hand, would I could see it; it is all I have; wilt search me?
Pen . There is another fee belongs to us.
Fow . Another fee belongs to us! what is that? I must kiss her: — [ kisses her .] — thou hast a down lip, and dost twang it handsomely; now to the business.
Pen . This is not all I look for.
Fow . She will not tempt me to come aloft, will she?
Pen . If you could see me, I do blush.
Wor . What does my daughter mean?
Fow . If I could see her she does blush, she says; it is so: oh the insatiable desires of chambermaids! they were wont to look no higher than the groom or servingman, and be thankful; or if the master would be pleased to let them shew him this lobby, t'other withdrawing chamber, or the turret, in summer, and take occasion to commend the situation and so forth, it was after the lady had been served, out of his own mere motion and favour, and it was taken as an indearment for ever of their service and secrecy; now, they must be tasters to them in the sweet sin; fees of the court must be paid, or no suit commenced with iniquity. — O Venus, what will this world come to!
Pen. Hear me.
Fow. Yes, I cannot see thee.
Pen. This chamber, by my policy, was made dark.
Fow. This chamber, by your policy, was made dark , so.
Pen. My mistress expected you without this ceremony.
Fow. Your mistress expects me without this ceremony . — Cunning gipsey!
Pen. But if you condescend not first —
Fow. But if I condescend not first; will she threaten me?
Pen. To impart to me the sweet pleasure of your body —
Fow. To impart to you the sweet pleasure of my body!
Pen. Indeed you shall not embrace my mistress, and so forth.
Fow. Indeed I shall not embrace your mistress, and so forth! You will justify this to her face? 'tis not that I stand upon a carriere, but I will not be compelled to lie with any whore in Christendom. Was ever such a goat in nature! Why, hark ye, virgin above ground, for a dark room or a cellar are all one for you, you that are a degree above the kitchen, and make your master's man run mad to hear you play on the virginals; whose breath, though strengthened with garlic, you would suck like a domestic cat at midnight, will no diet down with you, but what is reserved for your mistress's palate? You are in hope to filch a point from my breeches, which, executed at both ends, you will wear about your smutchy wrist for a bracelet. I will seek out thy mistress, rifle her lady-ware, in spite of thee, and give my footmen charge not to kiss thee, an it would keep thee from starving. — Would I could see the way out again!
Pen. I can betray, and will.
Fow. She'll betray us, she has voice enough for such a mischief. [ aside .] — Do'st hear? do but consider she is thy mistress, there's some reason she should be preferred.
Pen. I'll hear none.
Fow. She'll hear no reason! If the devil hath fed her blood with the hope of me, would he would furnish her with an incubus in my shape, to serve her, or let a satyr leap her! Oh, unmerciful chambermaids! the grave is sooner satisfied than their wantonness. [ aside .] — Dost hear? wilt have the truth on't? 'twas a condition between us, and I swore no woman should enjoy me before her; there's conscience I should be honest to her; prithee be kind to a young sinner; I will deserve thee hereafter in the height of dalliance.
Pen. I am in the same humour still.
Fow. She is in the same humour still! I must go through her to her mistress. [ aside .] — Art thou a Christian? Well, thou art a brave girl, and I do love thy resolution, and so soon as I have presented my first fruits to thy mistress only for my oath's sake, I'll return and ply thee with embraces, as I am a gentleman. Prithee shew me the way.
Pen. I will not trust you, sir.
Fow. Will not you trust me? why, come on then, an there be no remedy.
Pen. Will you satisfy my desire?
Fow. I'll do my endeavour, I am untrussing as fast as I can; nay, an I be provoked, I'm a tyrant; have at your bacon.
Pen. [ aloud .] Winnifride!

Re-enter WINNIFRIDE with a light .

Fow. Have you found your voice? what mean you by this light?
Pen. That you should see your shame.
Fow. Cheated; ha?
Pen. Is this your love to me, your noble love?
I did suspect before how I should find you.
[ Fow. Penelope!]
Pen. Degenerated man! what mad disease
Dwells in thy veins, that does corrupt the flowings
Of generous blood within thee?
Fow. Shall I not vault, gentlewoman?
Pen. What behaviour.
Of mine gave thee suspicion I could be
So lost to virtue, to give up mine honour?
Poor man!
How thou didst fool thyself to thy devouring
Lust, for 'twas it made thee so late a counterfeit, —
Go home, and pray
Thy sin may be forgiven, and with tears
Wash thy polluted soul.
Wor. I like this well,
And find her noble aim.
Pen. Be man again;
For yet thou art a monster, and this act
Publish'd, will make thee appear so black
And horrid, that even beasts will be ashamed
Of thy society. My goodness,
In hope of your conversion, makes me chide you so —
Ha! Win, dost thou observe him? Oh, my heart
Is full of fear; I tremble to look on him:
See, of a sudden, what a paleness has
Possest his face; do not his eyes retire
Into their hollow chambers? Sir, how do you?
Fow. Well.
Wor. What new project's this?
Win. A sudden change.
Sure, heaven is just unto thy late imposture,
And thou art punish'd now indeed with sickness,
For mocking heaven, I fear. Oh, dost thou see?
Fow. What?
Pen. Death sits upon his forehead; I ne'er saw
The horror of a dying countenance,
But in this gentleman. — Winnifride, to my closet,
Fetch me the cordial.
Fow. What do you mean, gentlewoman?
I do not feel any such dangerous sickness.
Pen. What a hollow voice he has! oh, my misfortune,
If he should die here! Fetch me some strong waters.
Fow. No, no, I can walk for them myself, if need be.
Pen. He talks wildly;
I may suspect him; if you have so much strength
To walk, go home, call your physician,
And friends; dispose of your estate, and settle
Your peace for heaven, I do beseech you, sir;
My prayers shall beg a mercy on your soul,
For I have no encouragement to hope
Your glass hath many sands. Farewell, sir; cherish
Pure holy thoughts, that if your life soon end,
Your better part may to yon court ascend. —
Come, to my father.
Fow. What's the meaning of this? sick and dying! I feel no pains. I have heard of some died with conceit; if it should kill me, I were a precious coxcomb. Was ever poor gentleman brought into such a foolish paradise! prepared for a race, and mounting into the saddle, — I must go home and die! well, if I live I'll quit your cunning, and for the more certainty my revenge may prosper, I will not say my prayers till it take effect.

SCENE V.

The Street, near Richley's House .

Enter Tutor.

Tutor. This is the place where I must exercise my valour upon Brains; I was ne'er given to fight, but I'm engaged for such a prize as I would challenge all the noble sciences in my own defence.

Enter AIMWELL , CLARE , and MANLY .

Aim. I cannot spy them yet; pray heaven no disaster cross our project.
Clare . What thing's that walks about the door?
Aim. One practising, I think,
The postures of a fencer.
Tutor. Things occur worthy consideration. Were I best to speak before I strike him, or give him blows, and tell him [the] reason afterwards? I do not like expostulations, they proclaim our anger, and give the enemy warning to defend himself; I'll strike him valiantly, and in silence.
Clare. What does he mutter?
Aim. What business stays him here? some treachery.
Tutor . Being resolv'd to strike before I speak,
'Tis worth my judgment, whether fist or sword
Shall first salute him: I'll be generous,
And give him first two or three wholesome buffets,
Which, well laid on, may haply so amaze him,
My weapon may be useless; for I fear,
Should I begin with steel, her very face
Would force me make too deep incision,
And so there may be work for sessions:
I like not that, as valiant as I am:
Killing is common.
Aim. Clare, they are in sight! down, down! oh, my ravish'd soul! what bliss is in this object!
Tutor. Ha! they are coming; 'tis she and the old ruffian; he has but a scurvy countenance; I have the advantage in the first blow, and I should be very sorry he should beat me in the conclusion.
Clare . Why does this fellow stay?
Tutor . I must on; she has spied me through her mask;
I see her smile already; and command
A present battery.

Enter BRAINS before VIOLETTA .

Clare. Will this fellow prevent my office? he goes towards him with a quarrelling face. — Ha! I'll not engage myself then; 'tis so.
Vio. Help! help!
Bra. Mistress, stay! Fear nothing; alas, good gentlewoman. — [ beats the Tutor .] — You black maggot; death! I'll tread him into the kennel amongst his kindred.
Tutor . Hold! help! murder!
Bra. We shall have the whole street about us presently. Let's on our journey. Who is this mole-catcher? — An ye had not been with me, I would have cut him into more pieces than a tailor's cushion. — Sir Nicholas, you shall know on't too.
Tutor. They are gone together; pox on this toughness! He has made an ass of me; next him do I hate the law most abominably, for if I might kill and not be hang'd for him, 'twould never trouble me. Shall I lose my reputation so? I'll venture another pounding, but I'll be revenged on him.

SCENE VI.

Another Part of the Same.

Enter BRAINS before Sensible .

Bra. My mistress is grown very thrifty of her voice o' the sudden; I have ask'd her two or three questions, and she answers me with holding out her hand, as the post at St. Alban's, that points the way to London; either she is grown sullen, or the fright she was in late, like a wolf that sees a man first, hath taken away her voice. — I'll make her speak to me. — [ he stops, she puts him forward with her hand .] — Said you, forsooth? — 'twill not do — what a blessed comfort shall he enjoy if she continue speechless! the Persians did worship a god under the name of Silence, and, sure, Christians may have an excuse for their idolatry, if they can find a woman whom nature hath posted into the world with a tongue, but no ability to make use of that miserable organ. — What do you think 'tis o'clock? two not struck, ha? — [ she slips away .] — How now, mistress, treading on t' other side? this is your way to the Exchange.
Sens. My way, you saucy clown! — take that.
Bra. You are bountiful; 'tis more than I look'd for.
Sens. [ unmasking .] — What have you to say to me, sirrah? Cannot a gentlewoman —
Bra Ha, ah! my brains melt; I am undone, I am undone; you succuba, where is my mistress? Proserpine, speak!

Enter Tutor, with Serjeants.

Tutor . That's he; your office.
Serj. We arrest you, sir.
Bra. Me, you toads?
Sens. How's this?
Tutor. Away with him to prison; 'tis no slight action: at your perils, serjeants. — My fairest mistress.
Sens. Mistress! — I'll humour this plot for the mirth sake.
Bra. Sirrah tadpole, what do you mean? — I owe him not a penny, by this flesh; he has a conspiracy upon me; I charge you, in the king's name, unbind me.
Serj. We charge you, in the king's name, obey us.
Bra. May you live to be arrested of the pox, and die in a dungeon! may inns o' court gentlemen, at next trimming, shave your ears and noses off, and then duck you in their own boggards!