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DEAMATISTS OF THE EESTOEATIOK 
 
 W I L S N. 
 
Printed for Subscribers only. 
 
 450 copies Small Paper. 
 150 „ Large Paper. 
 30 „ Whatman's Paper. 
 3 ., Vellum. 
 
THE DRAMATIC 
 
 / 
 WORKS OF JOHN WILSON. 
 
 WITH PREFATORY MEMOIR, INTRODUCTIONS, 
 AND NOTES. 
 
 MDCCCLXXIV. 
 
 EDINBUEGH: WILLIAM PATEESON. 
 LONDON : H. SOTHEEAN & CO. 
 

 MURRAY AND GIBB, EDINBURGH, 
 PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTT's STATIONERY OFFICF. 
 
TO 
 
 WILLIAM JOHN THOMS, Esq., F.S.A., 
 
 ETC. ETC. ETC., 
 
 THE ORIGIXATOR, AND, FOE, 
 
 A QtrARTER OF A CEXTTJEY, EDITOE OF 
 
 NOTES AND QUERIES, 
 
 THESE, THE DEAMATIC WOEKS 
 OF 
 
 JOHN WILSON, OF Lincoln's Inn, 
 
 NOW FOE THE FIEST TIME COLLECTED, 
 AEE, WITH MOST SIXCEEE EEGAEDS, INSCEIBED BY 
 
 THE EDITORS. 
 
COXTEJSTTS. 
 
 , Page 
 
 •^The Cheats, ..... 1 
 
 AnDRONICUS COilNENIUS, . . . .111 
 
 The Projectoes, .... . 211 
 
 Belphegor, ..... 279 
 
The information hitherto afforded us respecting John 
 Wilson, the author of the plays contained in this 
 volume, through the medium of Langbaine and other 
 contemporaneous authorities, and reiterated by the 
 editors of the Biograjphia Britannica, the Biographia 
 Dramatica, and the rest of the more modern writers, 
 is of a very scanty kind, resolving itself into the mere 
 fact, that towards the end of the seventeenth century 
 he was Recorder of Londonderry. That a man of such 
 great ability as Wilson, and who in his time had 
 rendered himself in some degree prominent in Ireland 
 as an adherent and supporter of the cause of James 
 II., should have been thrust into the shade, or, as it 
 were, almost totally extinguished, may perhaps be 
 accounted for by reason of his political principles, 
 the tone of the times on the sudden accession of the 
 House of Orange being coloured by the prevailing 
 influence of the popular power, which could recognise 
 only its own supporters. The continuation of Lang- 
 baine — London, 1699, 12mo — contains this brief 
 notice of John Wilson : 
 
 "An author, of the place of whose birth I am ignorant. He 
 was once Recorder of Londonderry, and some time resided in 
 Dublin, where he wrote ' Belphegor, ' which was afterwards 
 acted in London. He died about three years since, near Lei- 
 cester Fields, but where buried I know not. He is author of 
 four plays, viz. : — 
 
 "Andi-onicus Comnenius : a Tragedy. 4to, 1663. Plot from 
 Heylin's Cosmography in the Description of Greece, Cantacu- 
 senus, Leunclavius, etc. 
 
 "Belphegor; or, the Marriage of the Devil: a Comedy. 
 4to, 1690. Acted at the Queen's Theatre in Dorset Garden. 
 Plot taken from a novel of Machiavel and Quevedo's novels.* 
 
 "The Cheats: a Comedy. 4to. Printed two editions, the 
 
 * In Machiavel certainly, but not in Quevedo. 
 
Vm MEMOIR. 
 
 last 1671.* This play met with applause when first acted, and 
 is a diverting comedy. 
 
 "The Projectors: a Comedy. 4to, 1665. This play met 
 with no great success." 
 
 John Wilson was the son of the Eev. Aron Wilson 
 of Plymouth, from whom he derived a competent 
 patrimony. He became a student of Lincoln's Inn, 
 and was called to the bar on 31st October 1646 ; 22 
 Car. I. It is believed that he became secretary in 
 Ireland to the Duke of York, through whose influence 
 he was appointed, shortly before the death of King 
 Charles ii., to the ofiice of Eecorder of Londonderry; 
 but this he seems to have vacated about the time of 
 the siege, which began 18th April and continued till 
 1st August 1689, during which, as there were neither 
 mayor nor sheriff", the vocation of recorder would be 
 a dead letter. It is evident that Wilson shortly after- 
 wards went to Dublin, no doubt to join King James 
 there, and that, hoping in the ultimate ascendency of 
 the Jacobite cause, he remained a resident for some 
 years afterwards. He appears to have died in London 
 in 1696. 
 
 That he was not quite so unknown to fame, as 
 hitherto the writers respecting him have indicated, 
 these contemporaneous lines will evince : 
 
 " Ellis in great discontent went away, 
 
 Whilst D'Avenant against Apollo did rage ; 
 Because he declared llie Secrets di play 
 Fitting for none but a mountebank stage. 
 
 John Wilson stood up, and wildly did stare, 
 When on a sudden stept in a bold Scot ; 
 
 And offer'd Apollo he freely would swear 
 
 The said Maister Wilson might pass for a sot. 
 
 But all was in vain ; for Apollo, 'tis said, 
 AVould in nowise allow of any Scotch wit ; 
 
 Then Wilson in spite made his plays to be read, 
 Swearing he'd answer for all he had writ." 
 
 These lines are from '' The Sessions of the Poets, to 
 the tune of Cock Laurel," in the 1st vol. of " Poems of 
 
 * This is an error. " The Cheats " ran through four editions. 
 
MEMOIR. IX 
 
 Affairs of State from the time of Oliver Cromwell to 
 the abdication of K. James Second. Written by the 
 greatest wits of the age." Lond. 8vo, 6th ed., 1716. 
 Vol. i. ; — a continuation of " A Tryal for the Bays, in 
 imitation of a satyre in Boileau, by the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham, and the Earl of Eochester." — See the Works 
 of his Grace, George Yilliers, late Duke of Bucking- 
 ham, vol. i. p. 155, 8vo, 3d ed. 1715. 
 
 Besides the four plays enumerated, which are in 
 themselves works of immense merit, he wrote the 
 following books : — 
 
 1. Morise Encomium : or, the Praise of Folly. 'Writteii ori- 
 ginally in Latin by Des. Erasmus of Eotterdam, and trans- 
 lated into English by Jobn Wilson. Licensed, Eoger L'Estrange. 
 London, printed for William Leak, and are to be sold at the 
 Crown in Fleet Street, between the two Temple gates. 1668, 
 12mo. 
 
 2. Jus Eegium Coronse : or, the King's Supreme Power in 
 dispensing with Penal Statutes ; more particularly as it relates 
 to the two Test Acts of the twenty-fifth and thirtieth of his late 
 Majesty, King Charles ii. Argued hy Reason, and confirmed by 
 the Common and Statute Laws of this Kingdom. In two parts. 
 Auctore, Jo. Wilsonio, J.C. 
 
 Sir Edw. Coke, 1 Inst. 64. Imperii Majestas, Tutelce Salus. 
 London, printed by Henry Hills, printer to the King's most 
 excellent Majesty, for his household and chapel ; and are sold 
 at his printing house, on the Ditch side, in Blackfriars. 1688. 
 4to, pp. 79. 
 
 The dedication runs thus : — 
 
 "to the h6notjrable society of Lincoln's inn, 
 
 "It is my honour, gentlemen, that I served a double appren- 
 ticeship within your walls ; and however I have for many years 
 discontinued, it is not possible that any man, bred in a society 
 of so much learning and air, should have altogether forgotten 
 what he once imbibed, 
 
 "The loyalty of your house, excepting some single person 
 here and there, was in the worst of times exemplary ; nor were 
 y' last in bringing the King back again to his. And because 
 the dispensing power best secures him in it, and the kingdom 
 under it, unto whom more justly could I make a proof of it, 
 than to that honourable body, from whom I received it ? 
 
 * ' Such, gentlemen, is the discourse I herewith present ye ; 
 and in that being now no longer mine, but yours, as none are 
 more able, be also as pleased to defend it ; or so kind, at least, 
 to say this of your old acquaintance : That he spoke his thoughts ; 
 
X MEMOIR. 
 
 that he believed them true ; and on that account would not 
 willingly quit them, till he be better informed. — Gentlemen, 
 your most humble servant, John Wilson," 
 
 The postscript is this : 
 
 " What has been the common want to the reader suits better 
 with this matter to give it here, and that is, the occasion of 
 what I have written, which lies thus : — 
 
 "His Majesty, through the greatest of difficulties, and the 
 repeated but fruitless attempts of an exclusion, had, by the death 
 of his late royal brother King Charles ii., come at last to the 
 crown ; nor was it scarce on his head when a double rebellion 
 did more than threaten it. Upon this, the King (sole judge of 
 the danger of the kingdom, and in what manner to avoid it), 
 being little other than necessitated either to trust those few he 
 had tried, or those many others that had been for excluding 
 him, grants commissions to certain persons, not qualified accord- 
 ing to the said statute 25th Car. ii., with a non obstante to 
 that statute. This begat some popular disputes touching the 
 King's dispensing power, and those a desire in me of satisfying 
 my own judgment ; and, being confirmed myself, I thought it 
 my duty to strengthen others. 
 
 "In short, it was wiitten about Easter 1686, and has but 
 lately come to my hands again ; by which means I wanted the 
 advantage of rivetting it with that solemn judgment in point (in 
 B. E. ) in the case of Godwin versus Sir Edward Hales upon 
 this statute, which was not till the Trinity term following. 
 However, finding that so great a foundation for a further 
 superstructure, I w^ent on with the argument upon that other 
 Test Act, 30th Car. ii., as it severally respects a Peer of the 
 realm and a member of the House of Commons ; and finished it 
 with this : that the King might lawfully dispense with that 
 statute also. But this being out of my hands, and having little 
 to recover it by but some imperfect notes, I thought fit to 
 publish this first part for the present, with assurance, neverthe- 
 less, of that second part to follow it ; though neither of them 
 had been further thought on, but that, the same dust being 
 raised anew, it was but charity to keep it from blinding the 
 people. " 
 
 He also wrote : 
 
 3. A Discourse of Monarchy, more particularly of the Imperial 
 Crowns of England, Scotland, and Ireland, according to the 
 Ancient, Common, and Statute Laws of the same ; with a close 
 for the whole as it relates to the succession of his Eoyal High- 
 ness, James, Duke of York. Deut. iv. 32 — 'Interroga de diebus 
 antiquis qui fuerunt ante te, ex die quo creavit Dominus homi- 
 nem super terram,' etc. London: printed by M. C. for Jos. 
 Hindmarsh, bookseller to his Eoyal Highness, at the Black 
 Bull in Cornhill, 1684. 8vo. 
 
MEMOIR. XI 
 
 The table of contents gives for Section 10th the 
 following heads, which will show the nature and 
 tendency of Mr. Wilson's book : — 
 
 "A close from the whole, by way of inquiry whether an 
 exclusion of his Koyal Highness the Duke of York may be of 
 more advantage or disadvantage. The advantage proposed ; 
 and whether an Act for security of religion may not be as safe 
 as a Bill of Exclusion, The moral impossibility of introducing 
 the Komish religion, though the Prince were of that persuasion. 
 The reason why the kingdom followed the Reformation under 
 Edward vi., Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth. That the case 
 cannot be the same at this day. The crown of England an 
 ancient entail, with the danger of innovations. Objection that 
 such things have been done ; so has a King been murdered. 
 More particularly answered in Edward iv., Queen Mary, and 
 Queen Elizabeth ; all three excluded by Parliament, yet came 
 to the crown. No man changes but in hopes of better. The 
 advantages of continuing as we are. It is a bar to pretenders ; 
 the same as to competitors. Disorders avoided. No new family 
 to be provided for. The indignity of a repulse avoided. Sup- 
 pose Scotland and Ireland be of another opinion, the former of 
 which has by Parliament asserted the right of succession of that 
 crown, notwithstanding any religion, etc. Lastly, all occasions 
 of jealousy taken away. Objection answered. Disadvantages 
 that have attended the laying by the right heir. Examples 
 from old Rome, and usurpations at home. The revolt from 
 Rehoboam ; our loss of France. With a conclusion from the 
 whole, more particularly as it relates to his Royal Highness." 
 
 The dedication runs thus : — 
 
 "to the most honourable JAMES, DUKE OF ORMOND, ETC., 
 LORD-LIEUTEiSIANT OF IRELAND. 
 
 *' May it please your Grace, 
 
 "It was a saying of the late Earl of Ossory (Lord-Deputy 
 cf Ireland, your son, at what time he delivered up the sword of 
 that kingdom to the Lord-Lieutenant Berkeley), ^ Action is the 
 life of Government. ' Common experience tells us, usefulness is 
 the end of action, and without which (like a glass-eye to a body), 
 a man rather takes up a room than becomes any way service- 
 able. The sense of this put me on those thoughts I herewith 
 present your grace ; and unto whom more fitly, than to a person 
 in the defence of which few men sate longer at helm, or suffered 
 more ; you, that hung not up your shield of faith in the temple 
 of despair, and never seemed more worthy of the great place you 
 now fill than when farthest from it. Nor am I in the so doing 
 without some prospect of advantage to myself; inasmuch as, if 
 censuring, the age shall handle me roughly on this account, 
 under your great patronage I shall fight in the shade. 
 
XU MEMOIR. 
 
 "And now, my lord, I was just breaking off when it came 
 into my liead that I had, in some of our late pieces, found Sir 
 Edward Coke often quoted, especially to the defence of those 
 notions which had better slept in their forgotten embers ; and 
 therefore I thought it not altogether foreign to the matter that 
 I used the words of St. Peter (2 Peter iii, 16), touching St. 
 Paul's Epistles, * in which ' (saith he) * are some things hard to he 
 understood, which they that are unlearned and unstable wrest, 
 as they do also the other scriptures, unto their own destruction. ' 
 I have purposely made use of him in many places as an high 
 assertion of monarchy and prerogative; those that find him 
 otherwise, 
 
 'Habeant secum, serventque ;' 
 or let him lie indifferent, my argument depends not singly on 
 him ; while I humbly took leave to advert, and am, may it 
 please your grace, your most obedient, obliged, humble servant, 
 
 "John Wilson." 
 
 In addition to a poetical epistle "to His Grace 
 James, Duke of Ormond," Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, 
 printed at London in 1677, Wilson addressed the 
 following verses to the duke's son : — 
 
 " To his Excellence Richard, Earl of Arran, etc. , Lord-Deputy 
 of Ireland. A Poem. 'JVec deficit alter aureus, et siinilifrondescit 
 virga metallo.' Dublin. Printed at His Majesty's printing 
 house for Joseph "Wild, bookseller in Castle Street. 1682. Folio. " 
 
 *'To his Excellence Richard, Earl of Arran, Lord-Deputy of 
 Ireland, on the occasion of his Grace James, Duke of 
 Ormond, etc., Lord- Lieutenant of the same (his father's), 
 going to England and leaving the Government to him.* 
 * ' Hence the nice wits that are so squeamish grown, 
 
 Nothing will down with them but what's their owti ! 
 
 It has been said (yet tax'd) I freeze and hum. 
 
 And the same instant both rejoice and mourn. 
 
 And why, I pray, mayn't different notes agree ? 
 
 Take away discords, where's the harmony ? 
 
 Both are met here : "We mourn one sun gone east. 
 
 And joy : another rising in the west ; 
 
 Such — such as had the ancient Persian 
 
 Yiew'd the Parelia, this double sun 
 
 Had made him stagger at the smart surprise, 
 
 !N"or yet resolv'd, divide his sacrifice. 
 
 'Tis now past twenty times since th' Ormond stem 
 First branch'd itself in such a princely brain ; 
 And may it yet increase, and multiply 
 Its scatter'd rays into a galaxy ! 
 
 * James, Duke of Ormond, returned Lord-Lieutenant in 1684. 
 
MEMOIR. XUl 
 
 Spread-eagles join in body ; Lucifer 
 And Vesper are the same alternate star ; 
 The elements, Castor and Pollux, too. 
 Believe each other, and in that still new. 
 
 Nature had never made a second day 
 "Without a night's repose : that short allay 
 Stamp'd us another, and that timely care 
 Stepp'd in, and sav'd the infant world's despair. 
 
 And now 'tis but a day from sun to sun ; 
 The one takes up, the other holds it on : 
 Seasons to seasons give a fresh supply ; 
 The year absolv'd, comes the Epiphany. 
 
 Such your most noble father, sir's, with you ; 
 He closes one, and you begin the new : 
 And be his motions yours, I'll boldly say. 
 The sun withdrew, and yet we lost no day. 
 
 J. Wilson." 
 
 This will be found in a folio volume in the British 
 Museum, — Sig. ^^'J' ° , — immediately following which 
 this ill-humoured rejoinder occurs in MS. 
 
 ** On Mr. "Wilson's admirable copy of verses dedicated to his 
 Excellency the Earl of Arran : — 
 
 " Hence the nice wits who are so squeamish grown, 
 Nothing will down with them but what's their own ! " 
 
 ".'Twas wholesome council, and 'twas fairly done, 
 To tell them their dull fare before they come ; 
 Their puny stomachs never would digest 
 This nauseous stuff of thine, this porters' feast. 
 But yet, methinks, 'twas prodigal to rhyme 
 Out of that slender shallow stock of thine ; 
 Thy name in preface might have done as well : 
 ' Here, little Wilson, here doth dulness dwell. ' 
 For who the devil with appetite would look 
 On such a dish, and dress'd by such a cook ? 
 Who can endure, dost think, to see thee run 
 For an old threadbare simile to the sun ? 
 A thing the very Phillis-fools despise, 
 And far more bright than the fair Celia's eyes. 
 But thus from thy parelia to fall 
 To Lucifer and Hespers ; worst of all 
 To treat thy prince with scraps pick'd here and there 
 From sacred Lilly and the famous Hare. 
 Tell me, for sure thou did'st it out of sport. 
 To show thy worst ; or was't compos'd in coui*t. 
 Where thou that Latin cub of thine brought forth, 
 To boast thy haughty ignorance in both ? 
 
XIV MESrorR. 
 
 By heaven, were I in 's Excellency's case, 
 
 I'd hang the wretch that did me this disgrace. 
 
 'Tis time, indeed^ the style may serve to show 
 
 When sun's in Cancer, when in Scorpio, 
 
 To help a wretched almanac's dull sale. 
 
 And martyrdom of Christmas pies bewail. 
 
 But never, sm-e, did flattering poet kiss 
 
 The hands of prince in such a style as this — 
 
 A style whose panegyric is abuse, 
 
 AVhich nothing but his madness can excuse ; 
 
 For mad he is, — at least he is possess'd. 
 
 The fiend Belphegor heaves within his breast, — 
 
 Else why should he poetic strains essay 
 
 Since the sad fate of that unhappy play ? * 
 
 'Tis true his ' Cheats,' tho' stol'n, had great applause. 
 
 And thence, alas ! sprang the unlucky cause 
 
 Of his succeeding trifles. Swell'd with praise. 
 
 The fiend Belphegor he from hell must raise ; 
 
 Thence these lewd lines (which surely were not stol'n — 
 
 They're dull enough, I'm sure, to be his own). 
 
 Thus a vile fawning dog, if heretofore 
 
 He chance to please you once, will ne'er give o'er ; 
 
 Impertinent about your feet he '11 play. 
 
 Till you are forc'd to spurn the cur away." 
 
 Prior to the appearance of Wilson's play, Anclro- 
 nicus Comnenius, an anonymous author had written 
 one on the same subject. It is titled, "Andronicus : 
 A Tragedy. Impiety's long Success, or Heaven's late 
 Eevenge. Discite justitiam moniti, et ne temnite Divos. 
 London, printed for Eichard Hall, and are to be sold 
 at the stationers in London, 1661. 12mo." 
 
 Mr. Geneste has overlooked this play, of which the 
 author gives this account in his Address to the 
 Eeader : — 
 
 ' ' Let me acquaint thee with the pedigree and progress (not 
 to say pilgrimage) of this tragedy. It was born some eighteen 
 years since in Oxford, thence carried by a casualty to York. 
 The author thereof, conceiving this (the only copy) utterly lost, 
 found it, beyond his expectation, in I^ondon some months 
 since. 
 
 ' ' Thus, weary with long wandering, it hopeth at last to find 
 
 * As the play of Belphegor was not printed until 1690, and 
 Geneste notes that it was "hcensed October 13, 1690," it may be 
 inferred from what this writer says, that an earher edition had 
 been acted prior to 1682 without success. AVe may therefore 
 assume that Wilson improved the piece before printing it. 
 
MEMOIR. XV 
 
 quiet repose and candid reception, reader, with thee. Tt hath 
 in it some negative goodness, namely, nothing therein which 
 in the least degree trespasseth on piety, charity, or modesty. 
 Besides, it presumeth on something positivcy viz. variety and 
 verity — the one to please, the other to profit. And if the poet 
 brought the varnish, the historian, I am sure, gave the ground- 
 work. 
 
 ""What moved the author to make it may invite thee to 
 read it, — diversion of his mind from the troubles of the times. 
 I have done, when I have remembered thee of Avhat I have read 
 in Mr. Herbert : *A verse may find him out who shuns a sermon. ' 
 And such is the genius of our times, that those who dislike 
 more serious matters may benefit by these lighter treatments of 
 their time. If the author hereof hath intrench'd on his fancy, 
 upon him who wrote the life of Andronicus in the Holy State, 
 he doubts not but to obtain his pardon, as also hopes to have 
 thine for his failings herein. — Philaxax." 
 
 There is a formidable list of dramatis personm, 
 ■which is as follows : — 
 
 1. Maria Cesarissa, daughter to Manuel, late Emperor of 
 
 Constantinople. 
 
 2. Zena, the Empress, mother to Alexius. 
 
 4 fre^r^' ! ^^^®^ of honour to Zena. 
 
 5. Artemia, a court lady, wife to Menander. 
 
 6. Anna, Empress to Alexius, afterwards to Andronicus. 
 
 7. Juletta, maid of honour to Anna. 
 
 8. Akxius, son of Manuel, and Emperor. 
 
 9. Andronicus, kinsman, murderer, and successor to Alexius. 
 
 10. Isachius, next of the imperial line, at last Emperor. 
 
 11. Ducas, a prince of the blood. 
 
 12. Basilius, patriarch of Constantinople. 
 
 13. Monobius, a hermit ncAvly quitting his cell. 
 
 14. Cleohulus, an aged privy councillor. 
 
 15. Paleologus, a j'^oung corn-tier. 
 
 16. Lapardus, an instrument to promote Andronicus. 
 
 17. Menander, a courtier, and husband to Artemia. 
 
 18. Crato, a statesman. 
 
 19. Assotus, a dissolute man, and debaucher of Alexius. 
 
 20. Panergus, engineer - general to Andronicus in all his 
 
 villainies. 
 
 21. Philohihlus, tutor to Alexius. 
 
 22. Spiculator, an executioner. 
 
 23. Nurse, Servants, Surgeons, Messengers, and Citizens. 
 
 The Scene : Constantinople. 
 A contemporaneous reader of the copy of this play- 
 in the British Museum has issued summary judgment 
 
XVI MEMOIR. 
 
 upon its merits, by writing "verry badd" at the 
 beginning of the first scene, and repeating his expres- 
 sive phrase after the word "Finis." Without adopting 
 this early reader's opinion, we content ourselves by 
 saying that it is an eccentric production, and the 
 poetry is in most instances truly original. In the 
 first scene between Maria Cesarissa and her nurse, 
 Alexius is thus spoken of : — 
 
 *' jVwr. Have patience, madam ; matters may amend : 
 The Emperor's yet a child. 
 
 Mar. And child in judgment he will ever be. 
 No monster doth more hate a looking-glass 
 Than he a book ; his wit's too short to measure 
 A noble sport or honourable pleasure. 
 Only he sits, and sots, and drinks, and sleeps : 
 The stews are brought him, or he to th' stews. 
 
 Nur. Andronicus will shortly here arrive. 
 And by him all things will be rectified. 
 
 Mar. Well, I could tell you something if I durst. 
 
 Nur. Madam, do ! 
 If I reveal it, let me be accurst. 
 Sooner the very stones themselves shall speak. 
 
 Mar. That's not impossible ; 
 In churches oft I have seen speaking stone. 
 
 Nur. Midnight shall turn a clack sooner than I. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis this : I do not think Andronicus 
 "Will help us any whit. 
 
 Nur. Know you the man ? 
 
 Mar. Were all faults lost, in him they might be found." 
 
 There are other passages equally, if not more grand- 
 iloquent than this, and some of the situations are 
 bordering closely on the ludicrous ; but to pursue the 
 subject farther would be only to bestow our tedious- 
 ness too long upon our patient readers, who, if they 
 wish to peruse the play itself, will find the only copy, 
 it is believed, extant, in the King's Library, British 
 Museum. 
 
 James Maidment. 
 
 W. H. Logan. 
 
 Edinburgh, 1st Novemher 1873. 
 
THE CHEATS. 
 
The Cheats : A Comedy. Written in the yea?' 1662. Hor. 
 Serm. 1. — ' Hidenteni dicei-e verum, Quis vetat?' Imprimatur, 
 Nov. 5, 1663. Imager L' Estrange. London, Printed for G. 
 Bedell and T. Collins, at the Middle- Temple-Gate; and Cha. 
 Adams, at the Talbott, over against St. Dunstan's Church in 
 Fleet Street. 1664. 4to. 
 
 The Cheats. The Second Edition, 1671. 
 
 The Cheats. The Third Edition. Printed by James Raio- 
 lins for John Wright, Moses Pitt, Thomas Saiobridge, and 
 Gabriel Collins. 1684. 
 
 The Cheats. The Fourth Edition, corrected, loith the addition 
 of a new Song. By J. Wilsoji of Lincoln s Lin, Gent. Printed 
 for J, Walthoe in Vine-Court, Middle-Temple. 1693. 
 
The comedy which follows is cleverly wiitten, and in style re- 
 sembles that of Ben Jonson more than of any other writer. 
 On its earliest production on the stage it was received with 
 applause, which was not diminished on every fresh revival. 
 Langbaine, in speaking of the author, says: "His play called 
 The Cheats having the general approbation of being an excellent 
 comedy," while the editors of the Biographia Dramatica are 
 equally laudatory. They remark: "This play met with general 
 approbation, and very deservedly ; notwithstanding which, the 
 author's modesty induced him to make an apology for its faults, 
 in a preface to the earlier editions." Geneste, although he 
 affirms that "some parts of it are very dull," corroborates the 
 general opinion that "on the whole it is a good play." The 
 "preface" alluded to, however, as will be seen, is more a 
 disavowal of any intention of personality than an apology for 
 faults. 
 
 The popularitj'^ of The Cheats caused the issue of several 
 editions. The text presently adopted is that of the fourth, it 
 being the last published during the author's lifetime, and "with 
 the addition of a new song." Prior to the introduction of this 
 song, and the short relative dialogue preceding it, which now 
 appears in the concluding scene, Whitebroth immediately 
 followed up the dance with the words: "Why so? We're all 
 friends," etc., the play ending as now. 
 
 Although this comedy was acted frequently before the fourth 
 edition appeared in 1693, none of the actors' names are earlier 
 given ; but it is evident that the cast is that originally made, 
 several of them being at that date dead or retired from the 
 stage. 
 
 William Wintershall or Wintersell died in July 1679. He is 
 spoken of in Buckingham's Rehearsal, and in the prefixed Key 
 is characterized as a most judicious actor, and the best instructor 
 of others. Downes says he was a good performer in tragedy 
 and comedy, and that, as "Cokes" in Bartholomew Fair, Nokes 
 fell short of him. Downes commends him highly as Master 
 Slender. Pepys, on 28th April 1668, has this entry : "In the 
 King's house, and there did see Love in a Maze, wherein very 
 good mirth of Lacy, the clown, and Wintershall, the country 
 knight, his master. " 
 
 William Cartwright was one of Killigrew's company at the 
 original establishment of Drury Lane. By his will, dated 
 1686, he left his books, pictures, and furniture to Dulwich 
 College, where also his portrait still remains. 
 
4 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Oldys in his notes says, in reference to tlie library in Dul- 
 wich College, "to which Mr. Cartwright, a player, who was 
 bred a bookseller, and had a shop at the end of Turnstile Alley, 
 gave a collection of plays, and also many excellent pictures." 
 
 "Here comes in the Queen's purchase of plays [formerly 
 Mrs. Oldfield's], and those by Mr. "Weever, the dancing master, 
 Sir Charles Cotterell, Mr. Coxeter, Lady Pomfret, and Lady 
 Mary Wortley Montague, " 
 
 Pepys mentions Cartwright thus : "2d Nov. 1667. — To the 
 King's playhouse, and there saw Henry the Fourth; and, con- 
 trary to expectation, was pleased in nothing more than in 
 Cartwright's speaking of Falstafife's speech about 'What is 
 Honour?'" 
 
 Cartwright and Wintershall belonged to the private house in 
 Salisbury Court. 
 
 Nicholas Burt, as a boy, was first under Shanke at Black- 
 friars, and then under Beeston at the Cockpit, where he used 
 to play the principal female parts, particularly "Clariana" in 
 Love's Cruelty. — Wright's Historia Histrionica. 
 
 On the 11th October 1660, Pepys says: "Here, in the Park, 
 we met with Mr. Salisbury, who took Mr. Creed and me to the 
 Cockpit to see The Moor of Venice, which was well done. Burt 
 acted the ' Moor ; ' by the same token, a very pretty lady that sat 
 by me called out to see Desdemona smothered. With Mr. Creed 
 to Hercules Pillar, where we drank. " Davies, in 'hiQ Miscellanies, 
 observes that Burt ranked in the list of good actors after the 
 Restoration, though he resigned the part of " Othello" to Hart. 
 Pepys, on the other hand, contradicts this in some degree. There 
 is this entry in his diary, of 6th February 1668-9 : " To the 
 King's playhouse, and there, in an upper box, — where come in 
 Colonel Poynton and Doll Stacey, who is very fine, and by her 
 wedding ring I suppose he hath married her at last, — did see 
 The Moor of Venice, but ill acted in most parts. Mohun, which 
 did a little surprise me, not acting 'lago's' part by much so 
 well as Clun used to do; nor another Hart's, which was 'Cassio's;' 
 nor, indeed, Burt doing the 'Moor's' so well as I once thought 
 he did." 
 
 Pepys does not appear latterly to have thought much of 
 Burt. He had recorded his feeling respecting him on a previous 
 occasion thus: " 11th Dec. 1667. — Attended the Duke of York, 
 as we are wont, who is now grown pretty well, and goes up 
 and down Whitehall, and this right will be at the Council. 
 Here I met Rolt and Sir John Chichly ; and I met Harris, the 
 player,^ and talked of Catiline, which is to be suddenly acted 
 at the King's house ; and there all agree that it cannot be well 
 done at that house, there not being good actors enough; and 
 Burt acts ' Cicero, ' which they all conclude he will not be able 
 to do well. The King gives them £500 for robes, there being, 
 as they say, to be sixteen scarlet robes. " 
 
THE CHEATS. 5 
 
 Charles Hart was great-nephew, as is believed, to William 
 Shakespeare, and one of the most celebrated tragedians of his 
 time. Some have said that he was ISTell Gwyn's first lover. 
 Others, again, assert that Nell's first admirer was Kobert Duncan 
 or Dungan, for whom she obtained a commission in the Guards. 
 — Cunningham's Story of Nell Gwyn, p. 27. See also Notes 
 and Queries, 3d series, i. 286. It is very questionable whether 
 either were in that position, or whether she herself was aware 
 of who was her first lover, her earliest life having been passed 
 in no very reputable company. However, it is not a matter 
 of consequence, as she had a pretty accurate idea of who was 
 the father of the ancestors of the Dukes of St. Albans, her sur- 
 viving issue. Sir George Etherege, in a satirical poem printed 
 in the Lives of the Most Celebrated Beauties, etc., 1715, says 
 she was "protected" by Lacy, and afterwards by Hart. At all 
 events it is certain that, previous to her elevation to Eoyal 
 favour, Nell received instructions in the Thespian art from both, 
 these gentlemen. 
 
 Malone says : "Charles Hart, the actor, was born about the 
 year 1630, and died in August 1683. If he was a grandson of 
 Shakespeare's sister, he was probably the son of Michael Hart, 
 her youngest son." 
 
 Hart, who used to play " Cassio," while Burt played 
 "Othello," became soon so superior to Burt that he took the 
 lead of him in almost all the plays acted at Drury Lane. 
 Othello was one of his master parts. — Davies. He also be- 
 came great in Wycherly's Plain Dealer. 
 
 Hart and Clun, as boys at Blackfriars, played female parts. 
 Hart was Eobinson's boy or apprentice; he acted the "Duchess" 
 in the tragedy of The Cardinal, which was the first part that 
 brought him into notice. The principal actors, such as Robin- 
 son, formerly performed on the sharing system. Usually the 
 sharers were not more than twelve. The inferior actors were 
 retained, by the name of hirelings, at a weekly salary defrayed 
 by the sharers, each of whom was entitled to have a boy for 
 youthful or female parts. For the services of these boys their 
 masters received a stipulated sum. 
 
 Hart and Killigrew, soon after the theatre in Drury Lane was 
 burnt down, 1671-2, sent Jo. Haynes to Paris to examine the 
 machinery displayed in the French opera, with a view to the 
 adoption of its best features in this country. The King's com- 
 pany, after being burnt out, took refuge in the theatre in 
 Lincobi's- Inn-Fields, which had been vacant since the Novem- 
 ber previous. They opened on 26th February 1671-2, with the 
 play of Wit without Money. 
 
 Richard Robinson, above mentioned, circa 1616, usually 
 performed female characters himself. (See The Devil is an Ass, 
 act ii., scene 3.) In 1647 his name occurs, with several others, 
 prefixed to the dedication of the first folio edition of Fletcher's 
 
6 THE CHEATS. 
 
 plays. He served in the King's army in the civil wars, and was 
 killed in an engagement by Harrison, who refused him quarter, 
 and who was afterwards hanged at Charing Cross. 
 
 The patent of the Theatre Rcyal, Drury Lane, of which Mr. 
 Hart and Major Mohun formed part of the company, having 
 descended from Thomas to Charles Killigrew, "in 1682 he 
 joined it to Dr. Davenant's patent, whose company acted 
 then in Dorset Garden, which, upon the union, were created 
 the King's company ; after which Mr. Hart acted no more, 
 having a pension to the day of his death from the united 
 company. I must not omit to mention the parts in several 
 plays of some of the actors, wherein they excelled in the per- 
 formance of them. First, Mr. Hart in the part of 'Arbaces' 
 in King and no King, ' Amintor ' in The Maid's Tragedy, 
 ' Othello, ' ' Rollo, ' ' Brutus ' in Julius Ccesar, ' Alexander. ' 
 Towards the latter end of his acting, if he acted in any one of 
 these but once in a fortnight, the house was filled as at a new 
 play, especially 'Alexander' — he acting that with such grandeur 
 and agreeable majesty, that one of the court was pleased to 
 honour him with this commendation, that Hart might teach 
 any king on earth how to comport himself. " — Downes' Roscius 
 Anglicanus, edit. 1789. 
 
 In Eymer's Dissertation on Tragedy he is thus noticed : — 
 *' The eyes of the audience are prepossessed and charmed by his 
 action before aught of the poet can approach their ears; and to 
 the most wretched of characters Hart gives a lustre which dazzles 
 the sight, that the deformities of the poet cannot be perceived." 
 
 Again, Downes: "He was no less inferior in comedy, as 
 ' Mosca ' in The Fox ; * Don John ' in The Chances; ' Wildblood,' 
 in The Mock Astrologer, with sundry other parts. In all the 
 comedies and tragedies he was concerned, he perform'd with 
 that exactness and perfection that not any of his successors have 
 equall'd him." 
 
 It would seem that, through Hart's "excellent action" alone, 
 Ben Jonson's Catiline {his own favourite play), which had been 
 condemned on its first representation, was kept on the stage 
 dm-ing the reign of Charles II. With Hart this play died. 
 
 The cause of Hart retiring from the stage was by reason of 
 his being dreadfully afflicted with the stone and gravel, "of 
 which he died some time after, having a salary of forty shillings 
 a week to the day of his death." 
 
 Clun was barbarously murdered on the night of the 4th of 
 August 1664, on his way out of town to his country house, after 
 having performed the character of the " Alchymist," which was 
 one of his best parts. Pepys says he was "set upon and 
 murdered; one of the rogues taken, an Irish fellow. It seems 
 most cruelly butchered and bound," naively adding, "the house 
 will have a great miss of him." 
 
 Five years afterwards, Clun still dwells in Pepys' remem- 
 
THE CHEATS. 7 
 
 brance. "17th April 1669, — At noon, home to dinner, and 
 there find Mr. Pierce, the surgeon, and he dined with us; and 
 there hearing that The Alchy7nist was acted, we did go, and 
 took him with us to the King's house, and it is still a good 
 play, having not been acted for two or three years before; but I 
 do miss Clun for the ' Doctor.'" 
 
 "Ben Jonson had one eie lower than t'other, and bigger, 
 like Clun, the player. Perhaps he begott Clun." — Aubrey's 
 Lives, 8vo, 1813. — Art. Ben Jonson. 
 
 John Lacy was originally a dancing master. He subse- 
 quently procured a lieutenant's commission in the army, which 
 ere long he quitted for the stage, Pepys characterizes him as 
 an admirable actor, and Langbaine says he "performed all parts 
 that he undertook to a miracle, insomuch that I am apt to 
 believe, that as this age never had, so the next never will have, 
 his equal, at least not his superior. " He was notable in eccentric 
 parts, such as Frenchmen, low Irishmen, Scotchmen, etc. He 
 died in 1667. 
 
 The King would appear, from the following entry of Pepys, 
 8th May 1663, to have preferred Lacy to Clun : "Took my 
 wife and Ashwell to the [new] Theatre Royall, being the 
 second day of its being opened. The house is made with ex- 
 traordinary good convenience, and yet hath some faults, as the 
 narrowness of the passages in and out of the pit, and the dis- 
 tance from the stage to the boxes, which I am confident cannot 
 hear ; but for all other things is well ; only, above all, the 
 musique being below, and most of it sounding under the very 
 stage, there is no hearing of the bases at all, nor very well of 
 the trebles, which sure must be mended. The play was The 
 Humorous Lieutenant, a play that hath little good in it, nor 
 much in the very part which, by the King's command. Lacy 
 now acts instead of Clun, In the dance, the tall devil's actions 
 were very pretty, " 
 
 Langbaine speaks of Lacy as the most perfect actor of his 
 time; he was one of the recruits which they engaged in the 
 King's Company, for there is no trace of his having ever acted 
 before the Restoration, He wrote three plays, and died about 
 the year 1684, — Davies. See an account of Lacy in the Bio- 
 graphia Drainatica ; also, in his own collected works, in this 
 edition of the Dramatists. 
 
 Lacy played " Falstaff " during the life of Cartwright. On 
 account, I suppose, of his superior excellence, Langbaine speaks 
 of his admirable representation of " Falstaff"," — Davies. 
 
 Downes, in detailing the new plays acted, among others 
 mentions The Behearsal, in which last Mr. Lacy, 
 
 " For his just acting, all gave him due praise, 
 His part in The Cheats, Jony Thump, 
 Teg, and Bayes ! 
 In these four excelling, the Court gave him the bays ! '* 
 
S THE CHEATS. 
 
 Michael Mohiin, better known as Major Mohun, he having 
 held a commission during the civil wars, was brought up as an 
 actor under Robinson, as Hart and others were. In his youth 
 he acted " Bellamente" in Love's Cruelty, "which part," accord- 
 ing to Wright, "he retained after the Restoration." Mohun 
 and Shatterel were, according to the same authority, boys along 
 with Burt under Beeston, afterwards at the Cockpit. Major 
 Mohun remained in the " United Company" after Hart's retire- 
 ment. "He was eminent for ' Volpone;' 'Face' in The Alchy- 
 mist; 'Melanthius' in The Maid's Tragedy; 'Mardonius' in 
 King and no King; 'Cassius' in Julius Coesar; 'Clytus' in 
 Alexander; 'Mithridates,' etc. An eminent poet [thought by 
 Thomas Davies to have been Lee] seeing him act this last, 
 ventured suddenly this saying : ' Oh, Mohun, Mohun ! thou 
 little man of mettle; if I should write 100 plays, I'd write a part 
 for thy mouth.' In short, in all his parts he was most accurate 
 and correct. "^ — ^Downes' Jioscius Anglkanus. 
 
 Davies further observes, that Lee "was himself so good a 
 reader of his own tragedies, that Mohun frequently threw down 
 his part, in despair of approaching to his excellence of ex- 
 pression. " 
 
 Pepys has this entry of Mohun's first appearance after the 
 Restoration : " 20th November 1660.— Mr. Shepley and I to the 
 new playhouse, near Lincoln's-Inn-Fields (which was formerly 
 Gibbon's Tennis Court), where the play of Beggar's Bush 
 was newly begun ; and so we went in, and saw it well acted. 
 And here I saw for the first time one Moone, who is said to be 
 the best actor in the world, lately come over with the King ; 
 and, indeed, it is the finest playhouse, I believe, that ever was 
 in England." 
 
 Mohun appears to have had the ear of his majesty, for on the 
 occasion of the Honl^Ie. Edw^ard Howard's play, called The Change 
 of Croivns, having given offence to Charles — 15th April 1667 — 
 and performances at the theatre having in consequence been 
 forbidden, he interceded, and "got leave for them to act again, 
 but not this play." Pepys calls it "a great play, and serious ; 
 only Lacy did act the country gentleman come up to court, who 
 so abuses the court with all the imaginable wit and plainness 
 about selling of places, and doing everything for money. The 
 play took very well." " Knipp tells me the King was so angiy 
 at the liberty taken by Lacy's part, to abuse him to his face." 
 
 Davies records that "King Charles II., being asked how he 
 liked Mohun's acting in a certain play, said that Mohun, or 
 Moon, as usually pronounced, shone like the sun, and Hart 
 like the moon." Waldron, commenting on this anecdote, says : 
 ^'Charles II. is somewhere characterized as having never said a 
 foolish thing, nor ever done a wise one. This play upon the 
 words sun and moon might pass for wit in a king, but would 
 not be so reputed in a subject. " 
 
THE CHEATS. 9 
 
 Rymer, in The Tragedies of the Last Age Considered, thus 
 criticizes these two actors: "We may remember (however we 
 find this scene of 'Melanthius' and 'Amintor' written in the 
 book) that at the theatre we have a good scene acted ; there is a 
 work cut out, and both our ^sopus and Eoscius are on the 
 stage together. Whatever defect may be in 'Amintor' and 
 ' Melanthius, ' Mr. Hart and Mr. Mohun are wanting in nothing. 
 To these we owe what is pleasing in the scene, and to this scene 
 WG may impute the success of The Maid's Tragedy. " 
 
 In A Comparison between the Two Stages, this anecdote is 
 given : "The late Duke of Monmouth* was a good judge of 
 dancing, and a good dancer himself. When he returned from 
 France, he brought vdth him St. Andre, then the best master 
 in France. The Duke presented him to the stage ; the stage, to 
 gratifie the Duke, admitted him, and the Duke himself thought 
 he might prove a mighty advantage to 'em, tho' he had nobody 
 else of his opinion. A day was published in the bills for him 
 to dance, but not one more besides the Duke and his friends 
 came to see him. The reason was, the plays were then so good, 
 and Hart and Mohun acted 'em so well, that the audience would 
 not be interrupted for so short a time, tho' 'twas to see the best 
 master in Europe. " 
 
 Mohun acted, in 1682, in The Persian Prince, by Southern ; 
 and "Burleigh," in The Unhappy Favourite, by Banks, in 
 1685. 
 
 Geneste observes: "Robert Shatterel was a performer of 
 repute. William Shatterel seems to have been an actor of the 
 lowest rank." William Shotterel or Shatterel, as his name is 
 frequently printed, is the actor who was associated with the 
 others just enumerated. He performed such characters as 
 "Voltore," in The Fox; "Sir John Daw," in The Silent 
 Woman; "Foyns," in King Heni'y IV., etc. 
 
 The actress who played "Mrs. Whitebroth" in the present 
 comedy, whose name is printed " Covey," must have been Mrs. 
 Corey. Her name appears in the list of those who had acted 
 under Killigrew's patent, and who remained on the union of the 
 two companies in 1682. Downes gives the list as follows : — 
 Major Mohun, Mr. CartwTight, Mr. Kynaston, Mr. Griffin, Mr. 
 Goodman, Mr. Duke Watson, Mr. Powel, sen,, Mr. Wiltshire, 
 Mrs. Corey, Mrs. Bowtell, Mrs. Cook, Mrs. Montfort, etc. 
 
 On 26th November 1720, The Cheats was played at Lincoln's- 
 Inn-Fields — " not acted twenty years" — "Whitebroth," Mr. C. 
 Bullock. On the 20th May following it was again performed. 
 The cast then was "Scruple," Griffin; "Mopus," Harper; 
 " Afterwit," Leigh; "Jolly," Diggs ; "Eunter," Boheme ; 
 "Double Diligence," Bullock; "Tyro," Pack; " Bilboe," 
 Egleton ; "Titere Tu," H. Bullock ; "Mrs. Whitebroth," Mrs. 
 
 * See notes appended to the Masque of Calisto, in Crowne's Works, vol. i. 
 of this series. 
 
10 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Gifford ; "Mrs. Mopus," Mrs. Elsam; "Mrs. Double Diligence, " 
 Mrs. Gulick ; "Beatrice," Mrs. Knapp ; " Cis," Miss Stone. 
 Geneste has this remark: "Alderman "Whitebroth is omitted 
 — C. Bullock was no doubt ill. The bill for January 23, 1720, 
 gives us reason to suppose that Egleton played 'Apish' [in 
 The Quaker's Wedding], May 10, 1721, in consequence of C. 
 Bullock's illness. " 
 
 In all the editions of The Cheats prior to the fourth, the 
 second prologue is thus headed: "Another. Intended, upon 
 the revival of the play, but not spoken." 
 
 The licence granted by Sir Eoger L'Esti-ange for this play 
 was simply a licence for printing, in terms of an existing act 
 which terminated in 1679, Sir Roger had no connection with 
 the stage. 
 
 Further reference as to the actors of the time may be made 
 to the inti'oductory memoir of Sir William Davenant, in the first 
 volume of his Dramatic Works in the present series. 
 
THE AUTHOE TO THE EEADER. 
 
 — Non omnibus unum est 
 Quod placet, hie, Spinas colligit, ille, Rosas. 
 
 — Petron. Aebiter. 
 
 I HAVE ever had so little faith for apologies, that I 
 rather believ'd they did more hurt than good, and, 
 for the most part, left things in a worse condition 
 than they found them. The sense of this made me 
 pass some late censures in silence, and perhaps might 
 have oblig'd me to the same still, had I not found a 
 dust rais'd, and believ'd it my concern to blow it off, 
 — at least, endeavour it. To come to the matter : this 
 comedy was lately acted, and, as it fares with things 
 of this nature, variously receiv'd; nor could I well 
 have expected other. It were too much fondness, not 
 to say worse, to tax that freedom in another which I 
 should think hard to be denied myself No, this is 
 nothing of the point. All that I take notice of is this, 
 how justly it may have deserv'd all that has been said 
 upon 't ; unless people would have it dealt with like 
 Don Quixote's library, — some burnt for the curate's 
 sake, others for the barber's, and not the least for the 
 good woman's. Not to detain you longer in the 
 porch, I have at present but this short request, that 
 it may speak for itself. And first, to take the parts 
 as they lie, I shall begin with Bilboe and Titere Tu, 
 the one usurping the name of a Major, the other of a 
 Captain ; whereas, in truth, and as may be gather'd 
 from their discourse, they never were either, or 
 scarcely anything like it, — a humour that can be 
 no wise strange to any man that knew this town 
 between the years '46 and '50, and, being so under- 
 stood, will be as unlikely to prove an occasion of 
 scandal to any person of honour ; for if I have shown 
 the odd practices of two vain persons pretending to 
 what they were not, I think I have sufficiently justified 
 
12 THE CHEATS. 
 
 the brave man even by this reason, that the excep- 
 tion proves the rule. And further, if there be any- 
 thing in their language that may seem loose, be pleased 
 to consider who they are that speak it ; and then I 
 hope you'll thus far absolve me as to say, I had as ill 
 brought 'um in with a pair of beads at their girdle, as 
 my Puritan constable with a feather in his cap. But 
 secondly, for the second scene ; I am confident I may 
 pass it and come to the third, where, and in other 
 parts of the play, if you meet with a small pretender 
 to astrology, physic, the Rosicrucian humour, fortune- 
 telling, and I know not what, — or in the fifth act, 
 qualiacunque voles vmdentem somnia, I shall, instead of 
 plea to it, only enlarge my request, That you would 
 but run over the late adventures of that kind, the sad 
 effects of which may be well fear'd to live among the 
 people when the persons that writ 'um may be either 
 dead or forgotten. Nor do I think I ought to ask 
 pardon that I have taken a Levite to this teraphim, 
 since whoever shall give himself the trouble of inquiry 
 will, without the least force, easily find that both alike 
 have spoken vanity. But fourthly, for what concerns 
 Runter, though I think I might have let that pass too, 
 yet, because I would not be misunderstood, give me 
 leave to believe that no wise man can conceive either 
 profession, viz. common or civil law, could be intended 
 in it. For as to the first, those that know my way of 
 education will be ready to excuse me thus far, that had 
 I design' d that I must necessarily have laid it another 
 way, and perhaps, too, might have been able to have 
 done 't ; or, if I had struck at the latter, that I was not so 
 altogether a stranger to it as not to have run it higher. 
 Let this suffice to both, that I made use of no more 
 than what serv'd to my purpose. And so I leave it to 
 a favourable interpretation, and come to the fifth scene, 
 viz. Mr. Scruple ; where, if any man shall say I have 
 trod too near upon religion, I hope, upon his second 
 thoughts, I may trust my cause with him, when, if he 
 shall rightly understand it, he will easily perceive that 
 I have only shown how that venerable name has been 
 
THE CHEATS. 13 
 
 abus'd, and that best thing made bawd to the worst 
 actions. Lastly, to any man that shall say such or 
 such humours have either been in the town before, or 
 formerly writ upon, give me leave to offer this to the 
 first, that Comedy either is or should be the true 
 picture of virtue or vice, yet so drawn as to show a 
 man how to follow the one and avoid the other ; in 
 doing which, if I had fram'd anything that was not, I 
 had not only belied the town, but wrong'd myself. 
 Doth not Martial say of his epigrams, 'Didavit auditm^f 
 And was not Quicquid agant homines, Juvenal's farrago 1 
 As to the second, if it has been said so long since that 
 there is nothing which has not been before, I hope, if I 
 may have border'd upon anyone that has gone before, 
 I am thus far excusable that I have purposely declin'd 
 both his matter and his way. To which, if the con- 
 trary shall chance to be objected, I think it enough at 
 present to say, I am in possession ; and a bare ' the}^ 
 say,' without showing it, will not be sufficient to evict 
 me out of it. To be short, were there nothing more, 
 even this were enough, that there is hardly anything 
 left to write upon but what either the ancients or 
 moderns have some way or other touch'd on. Did not 
 Apuleius take the rise of his Golden Ass from Lucian's 
 Lucius f And Erasmus his Akumistica from Chaucer's 
 Canon's Yeoman's Tale ? And Ben Johnson his more 
 happy Alcliymist from both 1 The argument w^ere 
 everlasting, Sed Cynthius aurem vellit, et admonuit; 
 and therefore, upon the whole matter, whoever may 
 have seen the play, or shall happen to read this, I have 
 but two things more to beg of him, — the one, that 
 by a new comment he pick not out any ill meaning 
 which I never intended — Improbe facit, qui in alieno 
 libro ingeniosus est ; the other, that he remember that 
 of the tragedian — Si judicas, cognosce. And then, per- 
 haps, I may have deserv'd his thanks, that I thus 
 hung out the buoy to discover the rock, and drew the 
 curtain from an old cheat, to no other end but to 
 prevent a new. Farewell ! 
 Lincoln's Inn, Nov. 16, 1633. 
 
THE PEOLOGUE. 
 
 Custom prevails, and somewhat must be said 
 
 To tie your hands, and save the author's head. 
 
 'Tis a new play ! you'll cry. What then 1 'Twere too, 
 
 Too much to find you meat and stomachs too. 
 
 But since it must, expect no bill of fare. 
 
 No ! I shall only tell ye — what's not here ! 
 
 We've no sententious sir, no grave Sir Poll, 
 No little pug nor devil, — bless us all ! 
 No tedious sieges to the music room. 
 Nor frisks abroad ! No, — our scene's all at home I 
 But if you ask me, how 1 'Troth, I've forgot. 
 And, now I think on 't, it may spoil the plot 
 To give 't you beforehand. Whate'er it be, 
 Have but a little patience and you'll see. 
 
 ANOTHER. 
 
 LPpon the revival of the Play, after it had been suppressed 
 by a faction. 
 
 Sad news, my masters ! and too true, I fear, 
 
 For us ! Scruple's a silenc'd minister. 
 
 Would ye the cause 1 The brethren snivel and say, 
 
 'Tis scandalous that any cheat but they. 
 
 Well, — to be short ; h'as been before the triers, 
 
 And, by good fortune, is got out o' th' briers. 
 
 Where, if he lost a limb to save the rest, 
 
 No hurt ; here's yet enough to know the beast ! 
 
 Nor let the sisters pule ! I'll tell y' a thing, — 
 
 He may be libb'd, and yet have left a string ! 
 
THE EPILOGUE. 
 
 SPOKEN BY MOPUS. 
 
 I HAD almost forgot ! Let's see — what weather ? 
 Nor fair — ^nor foul, — ^indifferent, — both together ; 
 Clear, if no clouds nor rniz'ling. If there should, 
 It shall proceed from former causes. Good ! 
 
 So much for doctrine ! To apply it, now ! 
 YeVe had a play, but whether good or no, 
 'Tis past my globe ; yet guess, the weather will 
 Prove fair enough unless you make it ill. 
 
 'Tis you must make the play or stand or fall ; 
 Therefore, by me, to you, and you, and all. 
 The author bows. And perhaps reason for 't — 
 Some men the judge, others the jury court ; 
 The one more just if unconcerned ; the other 
 More pitiful ; if he claps both together 
 He means no hurt, for in a common hall 
 Noise carries it. He fain would please you all. 
 You've had for pit, for box, for gallery too ; 
 Keep your own posts and he is well enou'. 
 But, if you must lash out, and think you can't 
 Be wits yourselves unless you pique and rant, 
 At your own peril be 't ; and further know, 
 Who gives a character, in one, gives two. 
 He hopes the best, — nor will we be perplext ; 
 Laugh hearty now, and he shall fix you next ! 
 
THE PERSONS. 
 
 With some of the first Actm^s' names. 
 
 Whitebroth, An Alderman, Mr. Cartwright. 
 RuNTER, A Civilian, . . Mr. Wintersal. 
 Afterwit, a Gentleman, Suitor} ^/r^ -p^^^ 
 
 to Beatrice, . . . j" ^^- ^^^^• 
 Jolly, His Friend, . . Mr. Hart. 
 Tyro, A young Squire, Pretender} 
 
 to Beatrice, . . . ) 
 
 Scruple, A Nonconfm-mist, . Mr. Lacy. 
 Mopus, An Astrological Physician, Mr. Mohun. 
 f 2\vo Hectors ; the ] 
 
 BiLBOE, J ""^ '''''fl^ *^'^ I Me. Clun and 
 
 TiTEEE Tu, r"*^ i "^^T' Me. Shattered 
 
 ' I the other oj a \ 
 
 [ Caj^tain, . J 
 Double Diligence, A Puritan} 
 
 Constable, . . . . j 
 Timothy, The Alderman's Ser-\ 
 
 rant, , . , . j 
 
 Mrs. Whitebroth, The Alder-} ^ ^ 
 
 mans Wife, . . . ) 
 Mrs. Mopus, The Astrologer' s\ 
 
 Wife, .... I 
 Mrs. Double Diligence, The) 
 
 Constable's Wife, . . \ 
 
 Beatrice, The Alderman' s\ 
 
 Daughter, . . , . j 
 Cis, The Alderman's Maid, . 
 
 > The Scene — 
 LONDON. 
 
THE CHEATS. 
 
 Act l — Scene i. 
 Enter Bilboe a7id Titere Tu, as meeting. 
 
 T. T. HoH : Major 1 Quilms Hector, etcetera ? 
 
 Bil. Why, faith, the old trade still — here, and 
 there, and everj^^vhere. But how now, captain % 
 — Latin ! Latin ! — Send us fair weather ! From small 
 beer and ends of Latin, deliver me. 
 
 T. T. Troth, I rise with as little of 't this morning 
 as the rest of my neighbours ; and yet once to-day, 
 'twas a measuring cast whether I had English enough 
 to carry me to bed. 
 
 Eil. For why, my Man o' Memphis % New adven- 
 tures ? 
 
 f. T. Small game. However, 'tis better than idle- 
 ness. A man would pick straws rather than not 
 keep his hand in use. Anything, good Major, in an 
 honest way. 
 
 Bil. Thou'rt in the right, boy. But, hark ye ! did 
 ye bite % 
 
 T. T. Yes ; and I've struck him. 
 
 Bil. A squire ? Another squire ? 
 
 T. T. He may be one in time ; but for present he 
 is only a small bachelor of the law, new come to 
 town to learn breeding. 
 
 Bil. I'll say this — and a fig for thee — he has as 
 hopeful a tutor as man need have rak'd hell for. 
 
 T. T. Mean you me, sir, or Eunter the civilian, 
 to whose care his father by his last will committed 
 him? 
 
 Bil Eunter? Hah! hah! 
 
18 THE CHEATS. 
 
 T. T. Why, he thinks himself a learned man ; and 
 'tis some sign that others are of the same opinion. I 
 .can assure you, he missed the Chancellorship of Dun- 
 stable as narrowly as ever any man that went without 
 it. 
 
 Bil. Nay, nay, nay ! the gentleman will be well 
 bred, there's no doubt of 't. But what's the business 1 
 
 T. T. Compositions, Major, compositions ; a small 
 collation to save the effusion of Christian blood. 
 That thou hadst seen him while the Prudential and 
 my Second were discoursing the business ! He looked 
 so like a sick horse, he would neither eat nor drink 
 before he knew whether he should live or die ; but as 
 soon as the sum was agreed, and we had shaken 
 hands upon 't — Whip, says Jethro ! — he was got 
 drunk ere I could wet my whistle. 
 
 Bil. But are the pence numbered 1 Do they cry 
 chink in thy pocket ? How many yellow boys, 
 rogue 1 how many yellow boys ? 
 
 T. T. Why, faith, Major, none ; but we are to take 
 a .£100 together, which will be all one. 
 
 Bil. But who must lay it do^vn, Captain ? who 
 must lay it down ? 
 
 T. T. T have a small broker that for £40 or £50 
 has undertaken to procure it. 
 
 Bil. That may do well ; but hark you ! where does 
 your horse stand % I hear of a purchase, and must 
 out to-night. 
 
 T. T. No more, good Major; no more of that 
 doleful tune ; the very remembrance of 't puts me 
 into a cold sweat. 
 
 Bil. 'Twas a pretty nag — thou hast not sold him % 
 
 T. T. Would 'twere no worse. 
 
 Bil. He is not stol'n 1 No rogues among ourselves, 
 I hope? 
 
 T. T. Neither. 
 
 Bil. Or is he dead ? 
 
 T. T. In law, I think he be. I was t'other night 
 upon the randan, and who should I meet with but 
 our old gang, some of St. Nicholas' clerks ? Pad was 
 
THE CHEATS. 19 
 
 the word, the booty set by the Chamberlain ; we took 
 it, and shar'd it, but, coining home, were all snap'd 
 by a hue and cry for another business, wherein I was 
 not concerned ; which Mr. Constable perceiving, and 
 imagining me as very a rogue as the rest, and that I 
 would be glad to escape upon any terms, he takes me 
 aside and tells me, that though I was not in this, 
 yet there were others wherein I had been ; and there- 
 fore (because I looked like a civil gentleman, merely 
 drawn in by ill company) if I would give him my 
 horse he would let me escape. You may easily 
 believe he did not speak to a deaf man, or one that 
 had no mind to understand him. I closed with him, 
 got me to my company, made them dead drunk, and 
 when they were fast asleep fairly march'd off. 
 
 Bil. That is to say, ran away. 
 
 T. T. And a good shift too. You are put to none 
 of these hazards. Major. You lie as safe in the con- 
 stable's house as a thief in a mill, or (to use a more 
 familiar expression) some of our friends in Newgate. 
 
 Bil. Yes, I could have better accommodations 
 abroad ; but he is my loving friend. 
 
 T. T. His wife, you mean. 
 
 Bil. Why, — she's a good girl. And now you talk of 
 these trumperies, what's become of your small cocka- 
 trice, the astrologer Mopus his wife ? 
 
 T. T. I ha'n't seen her since my last mischance ; I 
 must ev'n to her for new riggings. I hope her hus- 
 band has had a good term of 't. I'd live like a prince 
 if I could perform the tenth part of what his bills 
 promise. But see, Major ! yonder's your pinnace 
 sailing by — 
 
 Enter Double Diligence and Ms loife. 
 
 Ah ! how she booms ! Prithee, hail her, man. Would 
 I had the furling of her mainsail ! 
 
 Bil. Landlord, well met ! How now, landlady ? 
 This is better than wish. I must give you a barrel 
 of oysters and a bottle or two of wine ere we part, 
 honest landlord. [BiLBOE hugs him. 
 
20 THE CHEATS. 
 
 B. D. Oh, — good Major, — another time; we are 
 going to exercise now. 
 
 Bil. But, dear landlord Captain, advance, and 
 
 know this gentleman, my friend and landlord ; he is 
 the honestest fellow, and the best natured thing 
 
 J). D. Thank you, good Major, I have always your 
 good word. 
 
 Mrs. D. Ay, indeed, husband, that you have ; and 
 more behind your back than ever I told you of 
 
 [T. T. comes up and salutes D. D. 
 
 T. T. Worthy sir, your servant's humble servant. 
 
 D. D. Alas, good Captain ! — Indeed and truly, — 
 sweet sir, — the Major and I are old friends. 
 
 T. T. And may you long continue so. 
 
 D. D. I thank you, sir. Come, my joy, shall us walk 1 
 I should be loth to have Mr. Alderman there before us. 
 
 Mrs. D. Ay, my dear, I stay for thee. 
 
 [Exit D. D. 
 
 Bil. But hark you, hussy — 
 
 [He whispers lier hack. 
 Where shall you and I exercise ? Can't you drop 
 him, or give him the slip for an hour or two ] 
 
 Mrs. D. Oh, no. We are to be at the Repetition at 
 Mr. Alderman's — 'tis Friday night. But I shall see 
 you anon. Farewell, good Major. Your servant, sir. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 T. T. Your servant, lady. 
 
 Bil. Captain, prithee let's meet to-morrow, in the 
 afternoon, at Mother Formal's, the midwife's, and 
 bring your small harlotry with you. We'll be merry. 
 
 T. T. A match — a match ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Entei' Jolly and Afterwit. 
 
 Aft. You are so wise ! I have observ'd, this world 
 Dwells most abroad ; seldom or ne'er at home. 
 Most men can counsel others ; few themselves. 
 
THE CHEATS. 21 
 
 Jol. Hah ! sentences. There's somewhat troubles 
 you ! 
 AVhat is 't % And can you call me friend, and yet 
 Not let me bear my part ? Friends should be one ; 
 Breath, hope, fear, will, and nill the same, in common. 
 
 Aft. Why, what were you the better if you knew 1 
 You cannot give me ease. 
 
 Jol. However, try ! 
 A handsome fellow, and a fair estate, 
 And wit at will ! — thou mayest command the town. 
 Leave off this fooling. 
 
 Aft. I'm beholden to you. 
 Can you, with all your wisdom, tell me now 
 Where this shoe wrings me ? 
 
 Jol. No. 
 
 Aft. Then pray believe 
 I know ; and if you are my friend, forbear 
 A further scrutiny. 
 
 Jol. My life, in love ! 
 Not past that boy's disease — that troublesome itch ? 
 Come ; we'll be jovial, and divert the humour. 
 
 Aft. Suppose I were, is not the world the same ? 
 Love is the bond of nature ; and without it 
 The universe were but a besom unbound — 
 Sand without lime. 
 
 Jol. I need no further symptoms 
 To make the crisis. Hah ! And you believe 
 This dainty philosophical poultice 
 Will work the cure 1 If I have any skill. 
 There were a better remedy. 
 
 Aft. For shame, 
 Thou infidel to all that's good or lovely ! 
 May'st thou die in thy heresy, and ne'er know 
 What a good woman means, unless, perhaps. 
 For thy conversion. 
 
 Jol. This was intended 
 For a small curse. But I must thank my friend. 
 And if he were not turn'd bigot, I think 
 Might satisfy him. You're in love, forsooth ! 
 All in good time. But have you not yet consider'd 
 
22 THE CHEATS. 
 
 What 'tis 1 How much more misery beyond it 
 Than on this side of 't 1 You may fancy castles, 
 And forty I know not what's ; but they're of snow ; 
 Come one good show'r, and farewell my fine gewgaw. 
 
 Aft. Thou art a strange fellow. What dost think 
 of those 
 Have gone before us, and commend it too 1 
 
 Jol. One woodcock makes no winter. But, I pray, 
 What are the persons ? Are they not concern'd ? 
 These married men are like boys in the water. 
 Ask 'um how 't goes : Oh ! wonderous hot, they cry, 
 When yet their teeth chatter for very cold. 
 If you must love, love on ; but go no further. 
 Women enjoy 'd, like rivers in the sea. 
 Lose both their taste and name. Suppose 'um Junoes 
 In the pursuit, they're clouds in the enjoyment. 
 
 Aft. Thou'rt like the fox, that, having lost his tail, 
 Would fain persuade the rest to mak 't a fashion. 
 Prithee give over. 
 
 Jol. Troth I've scarce begun. 
 Suppose her handsome, she's a honey-pot 
 I' th' sun ; if otherwise, you'll ne'er endure her : 
 If honest, insolent, though ne'er so ugly : 
 She thinks you are beholden to her for't ; 
 And yet, who knows how long she may be so. 
 Is she the map of modesty % perhaps 
 'Tis but your own opinion ; love is blind. 
 There's many pass for such, whose husbands yet 
 Could, if they durst, tell you another tale. 
 Is she a housewife 1 can she make a band 1 
 Order a dairy ? cure a broken shin 1 
 Examine your accounts, and at year's end 
 Pray tell me what you've saved. Is she highborn 1 
 Twenty to one she's proud, and quickly scorns you. 
 What are you better for those doughty acts 
 My lord her great-great-grandfather perform 'd 
 The Lord knows where % or t'ave her portion paid you 
 In genealogies, gilt spurs, and cantons 1 * 
 
 Aft. Come — ^I can hold no longer. Have you done 1 
 * A term in heraldry. 
 
 1 
 
 A 
 
THE CHEATS. 23 
 
 Jol. With your good patience, a word. Consider, 
 'Tis like a battle, to be fought but once ; 
 And therefore, it must be so, be sure 
 She be your equal, and if possible virtuous — 
 At least not tainted with her mother's vices. 
 And now, if after this thou dar'st be wiving, 
 Th'art a bold fellow ; and that's all I'll say. 
 Heav'n keep thee yet within the power of hellebore. 
 
 Aft Prithee be n't so severe. Thou art my friend, 
 And I'll deal plainly with thee. That estate 
 Which you believe so fair (and wer't not for 
 My father's debts, and some small slips of mine. 
 Might have look't somewhat like it) is at present 
 At that low ebb, that if I don't look to 't 
 In time, it will be past recovery. 
 Come ; the red petticoat must piece up all. 
 
 Jol. 'T 'as a half face of reason. As you say. 
 Desperate causes must have desperate cures. 
 But what is he has got this hank upon 't 1 
 
 Aft. Did you ne'er hear of Alderman Whitebroth 1 
 
 Jol. Ay, there's a Jew indeed ! I'll tell thee what — 
 He has a daughter ; thou shalt have her too, 
 Tho' it be but to be reveng'd of him. 
 
 Aft. There spake my friend. Oh ! but her father 
 
 Jol. What] 
 
 Aft. Will never give consent. 
 
 Jol. To chuse — she'll make 
 The better wife, to justify her folly. 
 
 Aft. Prithee be serious. 
 
 Jol. Good faith, I am ; 
 And if thou hast her not, one way or other, 
 I'll be thy bondman. We'll about it straight. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 
 Enter Mopus, solus, with a hook, etc. 
 
 Mop. Saturn and Jupiter come to a trine in Taurus 
 and Capricorn. Huh ! We shall have 
 
24 THE CHEATS. 
 
 come to town, and their wives ne'er miss 'em in the 
 country. Next month they all meet in the house of 
 Mercury, he being lord thereof and significator of 
 speech : it may intend advocates, cryers of courts, 
 
 splitters of causes, oyster wives, and broom-men 
 
 Hold ! — Saturn — (nothing but this malevolent planet) 
 in the sign Virgo, in conjunction with Venus in her de- 
 triment. Beware, women, of green gowns : great men, 
 of stone and cholic ; and costermongers, of rotten 
 pippins. Again, pars tmiurce, coupled with the Ca- 
 tabibason — that is to say, the Dragon's Tail — huh, 
 huh — children shall be subject to convulsion fits, 
 young wenches to the falling evil, and old women 
 to cough out their teeth. — [He nmkes a jpause.'] — 
 But all this is no money. Many an honest man has 
 but one house, and maintains his family very well ; 
 but, such an unlucky rogue, the whole twelve will 
 hardly pay my rent. Now, a pox take these citi- 
 zens, and then a man might get some money by 'um. 
 They are so hidebound, there's no living by 'um ; 
 so clunch-fisted, a man would swear the gout were 
 got out of their feet into their hands ; 'tis death to 
 'um to pluck 'um out of their pockets. I am sure my 
 bills bid as high as the proudest — they cure all diseases, 
 and resolve all astrological questions, and they'll 
 hardly quit cost for pasting 'um up. Here dwells an 
 astrological physician, reads one ; And there let him 
 till I trouble him, answers another. His Majesty's 
 most excellent operator, says one ; Yes, upon post, 
 quoth another. And thus you see how an artist is 
 valued. O ignorance ! ignorance ! well may'st thou be 
 mother of devotion ; but I am sure thou art the step- 
 dame of art. If it were not for the good women, with 
 their groats and their vinegar bottles, and now and then 
 a young wench to enquire of her sweetheart, I might 
 e'en hang myself ; nay (which were worse), my wife 
 would cry her trade were the better o' th' two. But 
 husht ! I hear somebody coming. Ten to one but 'tis 
 my young Squire, with his mercer's wife to have her 
 fortune read — I could with less trouble and more cer- 
 
THE CHEATS. 25 
 
 tainty have told her husband's. I hear 'um — husht ! — 
 my wife understood their meaning, and might have 
 put *um together without troubling of me. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Mopus. 
 
 Oh ! is it you ? How goes all causes ] 
 
 Mrs. Mop. But ill enough, I'm sure. I wonder what 
 I'm the better for a husband in you. Here you sit 
 moping and moping all day upon a book, and at night 
 you are as sleepy as a gib'd cat. 
 
 Mop. Oh ho ! I'm in thy debt, but thou shalt be 
 paid it altogether. Is it not better to receive £100 at 
 one payment than to dribble 't shilling and shilling ? 
 
 3Irs. Mop. But you'd be loth, though, if your wife 
 had an occasion, that she should borrow, though 'twere 
 but sixpence. 
 
 Mop. Thou sayest right ; but I dare trust thee fur- 
 ther. Prithee go in and look after the house ; we 
 shall have some or other come popping in presently. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. To mighty purpose ! 'Tis well you get 
 so much. Methinks trading is grown extreme dead. 
 Time was when your honest citizens' wives, and no 
 ordinary madams, and their gallants would come and 
 be merry here ; but now 
 
 Mop. A little patience, good wife ; 't 'as been a long 
 vexation the gentry are not come to town yet. And 
 yet we have some doings, too. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Yes ; a company of fribbles, enough to 
 discredit any honest house in the world. No ; I'd have 
 you know, I am for none of your skip -jacks. No. 
 Give me your persons of quality; there's somewhat 
 got by them. Besides, a woman need not be ashamed 
 to sit jig by joul with the best of the parish ; and who 
 dare say black is her eye *? • 
 
 Mop. Prithee be quiet. I expected a young squire 
 and his mistress ; but I believe she could not get out, 
 her husband is so jealous of her. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Now, out upon her ; could she not have 
 took another woman with her % He has been a good 
 one himself, I warrant you, that shall offer to sus- 
 
26 THE CHEATS. 
 
 pect two women together. Marry hang these jealous- 
 headed coxcombs, these ass-cuckolds, that believe their 
 ears to be horns ; and such have you been in your time 
 too — that you have. 
 
 Mop. AVell, well ! go in — all shall be mended. 
 Prithee, in ! 
 
 Mrs. Mo;p. No, indeed, I don't intend it ; I must 
 have some money first. Do you think I can go always 
 in one gown % Pray don't mistake yourself. Besides, 
 I must buy the child a new coat ; and Mr. Scruple 
 expects I should carry him something for his pains 
 amongst us. Indeed, husband, he is a precious able 
 man. 
 
 Mop. Yes, he is able — able to speak more with 
 ease than another man can hear with patience. Away, 
 you fool ! 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Nay, good husband ; how do you think 
 a woman can love you, if you will not let her do as 
 the rest of her neighbours 1 I warrant you for them, 
 not one of them mist the meeting to-day ; and I hope 
 you have found that they are not the worst customers 
 we have. Marry come up here — 
 
 [She strikes the hook out of his Jiand. 
 'Tis a fine thing that a woman can have no money 
 but what she must ask her husband for; and then, 
 too, to have all this clutter about it. Give me some 
 money, or I'll make my complaint to Mr. Scruple. 
 
 Mop. Be quiet, and thou shalt have anythingv I 
 must e'en stop her mouth to be rid of her. 
 
 [This and the next aside. 
 If once she set up her clack, the cataracts of Nile are 
 but still music to 't. Come, we'll in, and see what 
 may be done. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 Enter Eunter and Tyro. 
 
 JRu. Indeed, your father was my old acquaintance 
 and very good friend. Ah ! how it tickles my lungs 
 
THE CHEATS. 27 
 
 to think how many mad frolics we have had at 
 robbing of orchards and stealing pudding - pies. I 
 hope I may take it for granted that you visited the 
 University 1 Pray, which of 'um, and what College 1 
 
 Ty. Gotam College, sir ; the University of Eumford. 
 
 Ru. My fellow-collegiate ! You and I must be ac- 
 quainted. A graduate, I hope, sir ? 
 
 Ty. Yes, sir, a small one ; I went out bachelor last 
 horse fair. 
 
 Ru. And I doctor, in the throng. We must be 
 better acquainted. You're come up to study 1 
 
 Ty. My mother would have it so. 
 
 Ru. Then let me advise you. Study both laws, but 
 chiefly the civil : you would not think what advan- 
 tage 'tis to be a general man. 
 
 Ty. I shall follow your directions, sir. 
 
 Ru. Then, when you come to practice, you must 
 get you a good brass towel and a steel countenance, 
 and ever carry so much patience as not to be dis- 
 couraged at anything; for I am to tell you a great 
 truth, that our profession rots at the wrong end — the 
 young ones die, and the old ones Kve. But how, I 
 pray % Even like bawds and medlars, never ripe till 
 rotten ; that is to say, seldom or never get money till 
 they are past the use of 't. And then, perhaps, what 
 with a little favour and a great deal of money, they 
 may chance to arrive at last to the height of sleeping 
 out a cause. 
 
 Ty. I thank you, sir ; and I think I shall be able to 
 remember it. 
 
 Ru. Then you must ever be obsequious to great 
 men ; not that you expect any good from 'um, but, 
 as the Chineses worship the devil, that they do you 
 no hurt. Then be sure to keep your chamber ; it will 
 keep you. I kept mine many a long year, and nothing 
 came ; but at last, thanks to my stars and these good 
 times, it came to the purpose. 
 
 Ty. I know this to be true ; for my mother would 
 be continually preaching it to my father. 
 
 Ru. Then you must never examine your cause. 
 
28 THE CHEATS. 
 
 whether it be good or bad. If it be good, and of no 
 great concernment, it will carry itself ; if bad, there's 
 your master-piece to help it out. Every fool can 
 manage a good cause ; but he's your man can set the 
 nose to which side he pleases, and make something 
 out of nothing. 
 
 Ty. I hope I shall have the grace to put it in 
 practice ; and wish my father were alive, to thank you. 
 
 Ru. Then, if at any time you find you have the 
 worst end of the staff, leave off your cause and fall 
 upon the person of your adversary ; put it boldly and 
 enough of't, and somewhat must stick; no matter 
 how true or false, it begets a prejudice to a person, 
 and many times forejudges the cause. For example, 
 now, to give you an instance in a gentleman, a friend 
 of mine, a great master of this way of pleading : A 
 gentleman, with a long comely beard, demurs to his 
 client's bill ; my friend takes him up at first hop, 
 and demurs to his beard ; calls it a vow-beard, and 
 that he had made an oath not to cut it till the King 
 came in ; and hark you, had he had twenty argu- 
 ments, he might have better spared the other nineteen 
 than that one. I could tell you of as good a one of 
 my own, and upon as great a person as any tliis day 
 in Europe — ah ! how I firk't him up, with — a chip of 
 the old block, and twenty as good — but enough of 
 this now. The thing is sufficiently known, and it ill 
 becomes a man to set out his own virtues. But try this, 
 and do it boldly, and never doubt of clients. A modest 
 lawyer ! — A silent woman ! — A paradox in nature. 
 
 'Ty. I can but thank you still, sir. 
 
 Ru. I had almost forgot one thing, and no way 
 inferior to any of the rest. If you find any commotion 
 in the state, be sure to strike in with the first. If you 
 get nothing — cantabit vacuus — ^you'll pass in the crowd ; 
 if you do, you'll have money enough to purchase your 
 pardon, and perhaps, too, get in to be some great man's 
 advocate. Chew the cud upon this for the present, 
 and as I find you grooving up to 't, I shall instruct you 
 further. [Exeunt 
 
THE CHEATS. 29 
 
 Scene v. 
 
 Entei' Whitebroth (coughing), Mrs. Whitebroth, 
 Beatrice, Cis, and Timothy, laden with books. 
 
 Wh. I do profess, this Mr. Scruple is a singular man. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Ay, indeed is he ; I never edified under 
 any man like him. But how d'you, my lamb ? how 
 d you 1 
 
 Tim. A vengeance over-grown one. I have seen 
 
 many a ram in my time has not been so big by the 
 
 head and the horns. [Aside. 
 
 [Whitebroth covghs all the while. 
 
 Bea. How d'you, sir 1 You don't look well. 
 
 Wli. Nothing but a cold, my child — nothing but a 
 cold ! I hope 'twill away again. [He coughs again. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Cis, Cis ! a stick of licoras, Cis. 
 
 Enter Double Diligence and his Wife. 
 
 Cis. I have some candied ginger, forsooth. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Here, chick, prithee bite a bit of 't ; 'tis 
 the most sovereign thing, next a pepper-posset, as can 
 be. 
 
 D. D. Save your good worship ! It fell in an ill 
 time. I am afraid it may beget an obstruction of jus- 
 tice, by hind'ring your worship's sitting on the bench. 
 
 Wh. How d'you, neighbours both ? How d'you % 
 You're welcome — [coughs] — I am afraid I sat a little 
 too long in the cold — [again]. Come, neighbour Dili- 
 gence ! you and I'll walk in, and leave the women to 
 entertain Mr. Scruple. 
 
 D. D. I wait upon your worsliip. 
 
 [Exeunt Whitebroth and Double Diligenck 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Timothy ! 
 
 Tim. Madam? 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Quickly, good Timothy, quickly — run in 
 and get the towels. After, good Cis, after him ; and 
 see they be through warm. 
 
 [Exeunt Timothy and Cis. 
 
30 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Enter Scruple. 
 
 Oh, Mr. Scruple, Mr. Scruple ! Alas, good man, how 
 he sweats ! Tim ! Tim ! Tim ! A towel, Tim, a 
 towel — quick, quick, quick ! 
 
 Enter Tim. 
 
 Tim. Here, forsooth. 
 
 Mrs. D. Now, blessing o' your heart, good Mr. 
 Scruple ; you have taken a great deal of pains to-day. 
 
 Tim. Or his lungs have, which is all one. [Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Truly, and indeed, a great pains-taker. 
 Come, Mr. Scruple, you have stood long to-day ; pray 
 sit down — [they pull him down into a low chair and 
 neb him] — we must rule you here. Will you have 
 a candle, sir 1 Alas, poor man ! how wet the collar 
 of his shirt is ! Feel, Diligence ; I prithee feel. 
 
 Mrs. D. Now, beshrew me, but 't 'as work'd quite 
 through his doublet, coat, cloak, and all. 
 
 Sc. Hum, I am refreshed ; yea, in good sooth, I 
 am. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Will you have a lemon-posset, sir ? 
 
 Sc. I fear me it is too cold. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Will you go to bed, sir ? or have a fresh 
 shirt ? How do you, sir 1 
 
 Tim. Troth, very ill upon a text. 
 
 Sc. I am well eno\;gh ; only a qualm — a qualm. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. What say you to your collar of S'S, 
 then? 
 
 Sc. That would not be amiss — there's no false Latin 
 in 't. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Quickly, Tim, quickly ! — a pint of sack, 
 a quart of cider, and a handful or two of sugar ; and 
 put 'um into the great bowl. Eun, Timothy, run ! 
 Dear child, do thou help him. 
 
 Tim. Call you me this his collar of S'S % — \aside^ — 
 You shall have it presently. 
 
 \Exeunt Timothy and Beatrice. 
 
 Mrs. D. I am afraid you are not well, sir. 
 
 Sc. Yes ; I am so so. You would not think how 't 
 
THE CHEATS. 31 
 
 has recover'd me. One would hardly believe what a 
 rejoicing to my spirit it is to see you thus eager and, as 
 it were, hungry for your food. Ah ! be the same still. 
 You cannot lay out yourselves, nor I myself, forth 
 enough, in these ways. Pray mark it. We cannot 
 lay out ourselves forth enough, one to another. These 
 often duties put us into a spiritual posture of war. 
 Ah ! it is best fighting together. Ah ! what a 
 precious thing it is when we are concern'd together, 
 and — ah ! — ah ! as a man may say, wrap't up in one 
 common cause and interest. Ah ! good sisterly 
 women, consider it, and lay it upon your hearts. But 
 how does Mr. Alderman ? Methought I heard him 
 cough ere while. How does he 1 
 
 [The women ansiver him in a long-draivn sigh]. Hui ! 
 
 Mrs. TFh. Now, indeed, I think he sat too long in 
 the cold. He has gotten a heavy cough of 't. 
 
 Sc. To see the frailty of man's nature ! How weary 
 of every thing that is good ! — how irksome it is unto 
 us ! I dare undertake he should have sat at a lewd 
 stage-play a whole afternoon — nay, with his hat off 
 too — and — ah, been ne'er the worse. 
 
 Mrs. JVh. But are these stage-plays such lewd 
 things as you make them ? 
 
 Sc. Why, truly, you are my bosom-sisters, and I 
 may speak truth to you. Nay, they are not; for 
 you may find good moral things in them — vice 
 deprest, virtue encourag'd, and the like. However, 
 , we have thought fit to rail at 'um, for fear the people 
 should set their hearts upon 'um, and consequently 
 undo us. I have often lectured at 'um in a morning, 
 and in the afternoon stol'n behind a pillar to hear 'um. 
 
 Enter Tim. 
 
 But see, here comes Timothy. — \He starts.l — A vaunt ! 
 This bowl is scandalous — it looketh like a wassail. — 
 [Tim offers to go out.] — Nay, hold, Timothy ! Though the 
 bowl be scandalous, 'tis pity the good creature should be 
 spoil'd. Pray, next time, let me have the great tankard ; 
 I am of opinion, too, it holds more. — [He drinks.] — The 
 
32 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Casuists speak comfortably in this point. A man may 
 eat and drink abundantly without any necessity, but 
 merely for his pleasure. Nay, he may usque ad vomi- 
 tmn ingurgitare, provided always he do not prejudice 
 his health thereby: because it is allowable in the 
 natural appetite to be taken up with those actions that 
 are proper thereunto. We must deny ourselves ; we 
 may not deny the creature. Pray observe it. I say, 
 we may not deny the creature ; it being given us not 
 for our sustentation only, but contentation also. 
 Timothy ! Prithee once more, good Timothy. 
 
 2'im. Here, sir. [Scruple drinks again. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Now, much good may it do your heart, 
 good Mr. Scruple. 
 
 Mrs. D. Indeed he deserves a good thing, he makes 
 so much of it when he has it. 
 
 Sc. This is napping gear, and well encourag'd. But, 
 pray, no more of this bowl ; pray no more of 't. For 
 this time it may pass. Now, trust me, it has such a 
 pleasant farewell, it invites a man to drink often of it. 
 Timothy ! 
 
 Tim. Here, sir ! [Scruple drinks again. 
 
 Sc. I do assure you, special stuff, and too good for 
 the wicked ; it may strengthen them in their enor- 
 mities. But come ; let's go visit Mr. Alderman. 
 Timothy, is all out 1 
 
 Tim. Yes, sir — not a drop left. 
 
 Sc. Then pray speak to Euth to dress up the great 
 tankard, and bring it in to Mr. Alderman's chamber. 
 
 Tim. It shall be done, sir. [Exeunt 
 
 Act il — Scene i. 
 
 Enter Timothy, solus. 
 
 Tim. Huh ! he grows worse and worse. I have 
 been with the doctor, and he'll be here presently. 
 Precious Mr. Scruple is departed, but so like a dog 
 
THE CHEATS. 33 
 
 outlaw'd, that unless the devil owes me a spite, I may 
 be troubled with a mourning cloak. I am sure I 
 liave deserved it. I am the general officer of this 
 house, like my mistress's silver sack -posset-bason — 
 screw a handle to 't, and 'tis her bed-pan ; put a cover 
 to that, her warming-pan ; take off both, it serves to 
 wash her hands in the morning, and for a sack-posset 
 at supper. In the stable I am groom ; in the garden 
 gard'ner; at the market, caterer; in the cellar, butler; 
 upon all visits, her gentleman usher; and above 
 stairs, his valet de chambre. 
 
 Enter Mopus. 
 
 My noble doctor ! you're a man of your word. 
 
 JIo}). How does your master ? 
 
 I'im. Alack, sir ! I thought you could have told 
 that by the stars. I have heard say, learned men 
 know everything. 
 
 Mop. Yes ! I could have erected a Scheme, but I 
 thought it unnecessary. How does he take his rest 1 
 
 Tim. But ill ; and complains of heats and gripings. 
 
 Mop. I'll set him right again — unless the stars 
 
 Tm. What, good sir 1 
 
 Mop. Have pre-decreed the contrary ; and if so, we 
 must submit. Will you let your mistress know I am 
 here 1 
 
 Tim. I shall, sir. [Exit Timothy. 
 
 Mop. So — there's half the disease ; I shall easily 
 pick the rest out of the good woman. If all things hit 
 right, this alderman may prove a good milch-cow. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Whitebroth. 
 
 Madam I your humble servant. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. You're welcome, sir. Nay, what d'you 
 mean % Pray, sir ! Indeed there's nobody expects it. 
 Pray be pleas'd, I can assure you, no — in truth I do 
 not — pray, sir ! 
 
 [She does this to rnake MoPUS put on his hat. 
 Mop. — your servant. Have you sav'd the Alder- 
 man's water, as I ordered "l 
 C 
 
34 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Enter Cis and Timothy. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Yes, sir ! Cis, Cis ! thy master's state. 
 
 Cis. ! Tim, Tim ! 'twas in the silver tankard, and 
 the cat overthrew it. 
 
 [This and the next to he spoke aside. 
 
 Tim. There stands some dead ale upon the table, 
 put that i' the urinal : he'll tell as much by one as 
 t'other. [Exeunt Timothy and Cis. 
 
 Moj). A most fortunate face — I never met with 
 more lucky lines. You'll live to bury the Alderman 
 — and — shall marry — ^let me see — a lord. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Indeed, sir? I believe you can tell. 
 
 Mop. Nay, I am certain of it. Hereafter I may 
 chance to tell you his name ; but for the present, be 
 sure he is a viscount at least. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. This — [she gives him money'] — and my 
 thanks. A viscountess ! I'll promise you, I'll take it no 
 longer as I have done. 
 
 Enter Cis with an urinal. 
 
 Mop. Oh ! let me see 't. High-colour' d — his blood's 
 inflam'd. Feverish — feverish. 
 
 [At every stop he shakes the urinal. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Indeed, sir, he bums like fire. 
 
 Mop. Sick — sick — sick ! He cannot rest. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Ay, indeed ! You are as right. 
 
 Mop. Sometimes up, and sometimes down. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Truly, he has not been out of his bed 
 since he first took his cold till just now. 
 
 Mop. Huh — a cold ! — [Aside.] — Pains in his limbs, 
 coughing, and now and then wind. This froth and 
 feather in the water is a certain token. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Now, bless me, sir ! how is 't possible you 
 should hit things so right 1 
 
 Mop. How do you hit your mouth in the dark ? 
 One's as easy as t'other — that is to say, to a man of 
 art. I could tell you a thousand things ; but time is 
 precious. May I not see the Alderman 1 
 
 Mrs. Wh. 0, by all means. I hear him coming. 
 
THE CHEATS. 35 
 
 Enter Whitebroth. 
 
 O, my dear, here's a gentleman has told me all your 
 distemper, as right. [Whitebroth cmtghs. 
 
 Wh. And what does he think of it ? 
 
 Mop. Pray, bend your wrist, sir. — [He feels his 
 imlse.^ — All will do well again. A purge and a 
 vomit — a purge and a vomit. Gi' me a pen and ink. 
 
 [He writes. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Would not some Parma Citty do him 
 good 1 Truly, I would be loth he should want any- 
 thing. 
 
 Mop. You do well. Let me see — what says the 
 College ? Sperma cceti, confedio quoidarti — pox on't, I 
 have forgot the rest. Sperma cceti ! — sperma cox comb. 
 They're a company of quacking fools. 'Tis Parmacitty, 
 and takes its name from the city of Parma. Hang this 
 foisting — I'll trust ne'er a doctor of them all. — [He 
 tears the paper.] — Have a little patience, madam, and 
 I'll send you a preparation of my own. In the mean 
 time, your servant. I am staid for at present. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Farewell, good doctor. Come, my heart ! 
 rest tliyself within. 
 
 [Exeunt, Whitebroth coughing. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 Enter Jolly and Afterwit. 
 
 Jol. And how d'you like her now 1 
 
 Aft. Could I like heav'n ] 
 Prithee, forbear these questions. 
 
 Jol And much good may she da thee. Thou sha't 
 have her. I've laid the plot, and I am sure 'twill take. 
 
 Aft. As how, my Jolly 1 
 
 Jol. Not so hasty. I have an odd humour in my 
 pocket will strike fair to it. 
 
 [He pulls out a printed bilk 
 
36 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Aft. What's here 1 A printed bill ! Prithee let's 
 hear 't. 
 
 Jol. ' In the name of God, through the light of the 
 Son, by the revelation of the Spirit, I cure these 
 diseases, perfectly and speedily, without any annoy- 
 ance to the body, which commonly happens through 
 college bills and apothecaries' medicines, with which 
 the devil has deceived the world these many hundred 
 of years. 
 
 ' The new disease (otherwise called the Great Pox) 
 Avith all its appendices, in few days, with herbs that 
 I gather in the woods, and gums of trees — agues of 
 all sorts, in three fits — gout, whether knotted or 
 running, in four or five dressings — dropsy — timpany 
 — rickets — spleen — convulsion — yellow and black 
 jaundies, stone, strang-ury, and collick, in six hours. 
 All kinds of fluxes, most distemj)ers of the head, 
 shortness of breath, and ptisick, at first sight. And 
 have ever by me a most approved remedy against 
 green sickness, barrenness, and fits of the mother.' 
 
 Aft. 'Twas fairly vied. Who bids more V 
 
 Jol. He comes again : 'As also (to let the world see 
 how wide of their mark they are like to run that as 
 boldly as ignorantly dare adventure on physic with- 
 out the knowledge of astrology), I resolve these 
 ensuing astrological questions : 
 
 ' The sick, whether they shall recover or not ; the 
 party absent, whether living or dead. How many 
 husbands or children a woman shall have ; whether 
 one shall marry the party desir'd, or whom else. 
 Whether a woman hath her maidenhead or not, or 
 shall be honest after marriage, or her portion well paid. 
 If a man be wise or a fool. Whether it be good to 
 put on new clothes. If dreams be for good or evil. 
 Whether a child be the reputed father's ; or shall be 
 fortunate, or not. Ships at sea, whether safe or not. 
 Of law-suits, which side shall have the better. And 
 generally, all astrological questions whatever. 
 ' latros latrophihis Mopus, 
 ' A Servant of God, and Secretary of Nature.' 
 
THE CHEATS. 37 
 
 Aft. Hah, boys ! if this wo'n't take 'um, the devil 
 take 'um. But what are those hard words 1 
 
 Jol. Oh ! a phj^sician, a friend to physicians — 
 The only true thing in all his bill. These quacks are 
 the best friends physicians have ; they make work for 
 'um. What dost think is come into my head ? 
 
 Aft. How is it possible I should know 1 I am no 
 (Edipus. 
 
 Jol. Whj, this fellow must be a cheat ; and, I am 
 confident, with a little help, would be able to do our 
 business. Prithee let's to him. But see, your mis- 
 tress ! To her ! 
 
 Enter Beatrice aiid Cis. 
 
 Aft. This is such fortune, I forgive my stars 
 All their unkindness. 
 
 Bea. Is this natural 1 Or do you carry set forms 
 about you, to be used as occasion shall serve 1 
 
 Aft. Faith, neither. So much excellence must needs 
 inform a statue, and make a post rhetorical. 
 
 Bea. Demonstrations ! Why, how now, Mr. After- 
 wit ? 
 
 Aft. Just as you see. How d'you like him 1 
 
 Jol. Well said 1 To her again. If I can make no 
 sport, I'll mar none. How now, Cis 1 
 
 Cis. The better for your asking, I thank you, sir. 
 
 Jol. Hark you — a word. 
 
 [Jolly and Cis walk aside. 
 
 Aft. So fair, and so unkind ! Sure Nature dotes, 
 She twists such contradictions ; or, what's worse, 
 Has lost her wits, and would have all like her. 
 
 Bea. Whence this new fury ? 
 
 Aft. Can you read your self 
 And ask that question 1 Were you made thus lovely, 
 To make me miserable 1 Would you had less 
 Divinity or more humanity. 
 
 Bea. Then you're in love, it seems ! or at least would 
 Make me believe it. Don't I know, you men 
 Speak anything 1 Women are fools, and can't 
 For shame but credit it. 
 
i38 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Aft. You wrong my truth. 
 By all that's good ! 
 
 Bea. No more. Admitting yet 
 What I can scarce believe, why must you crop 
 That flower, which, as it grows, may peradventure 
 Look fair and lovely ; but once gather'd, withers *? 
 Give me love refined — a love that flames 
 Upon itself, not fed with grosser fuel ; 
 A love that loves the virtue, not the sex. 
 
 Aft. And such is mine. But fancy not this new 
 Philosophy of immaterial flames. 
 Hearts may meet hearts, and souls piquere * with 
 
 souls; 
 But if they come no nearer than the eyes, 
 For want of matter to maintain 'um, die. 
 
 Bea. Be judge yourself Who but the needy pray % 
 Once fill your belly, you've no more to say. 
 
 Aft. Yes. To give thanks, and ruminate upon 
 Those blessings which grow faster than we reap 'um. 
 Come, come, be wise, and trifle not away 
 That youth would make an emperor too happy. 
 All seek their like, and like the needle, tremble, 
 And never settle till it reach that North. 
 I'd rather be an owl than phoenix, 
 If I must live alone. 
 
 Bea. These morals, sir. 
 Might have been better. But since you'll needs 
 Make me beHeve you love me, court my father ; 
 For notwithstanding the respect I bear you, 
 I must declare, I've neither eyes nor ears 
 To anything but what he shall direct. 
 
 Jol. You need say no more. Mind what I told you, 
 and leave the rest to me. — [He speaks this to CiS.] — 
 What ! have you done yet *? A good soldier, now, 
 
 * Or ' pickeer ' — coquette. Literally, to skirmish before a battle 
 begins. 
 
 Ye garrison, w^^ some commons and the Scotch horse picquw- 
 ing awhile close by the walls on the east, drew off, after they had 
 failed in snapping Col. Graye's small regement of hors at Stan- 
 wick, with much ado gott into the towne without losse. — Tullie's 
 Narrative of the Siege of Carlisle, p. 6. 
 
THE CHEATS. 39 
 
 would have carry'd the town with half this do. Ha' 
 done your grace for shame ; and fall to your meat. 
 
 Aft. Sure my father went to heaven, I'm so unfor- 
 tunate. Well, be it as 't will, I love you ; and were I 
 to speak seven years, I could but say the same thing. 
 Come ! I'll wait on you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 Enter Scruple and Mrs. Whitebroth. 
 
 Sc. I can't away with it ; unfeignedly, I cannot. 
 A man may profess it is lawful — yea, assuredly it is ; 
 and therefore, I profess if any of my flock shall so 
 much as straggle into his pastures, I shall not only 
 turn them out of my fold for rotten sheep, but they 
 shall for ever be to me as publicans ; that is to say, as 
 the learned have most ingeniously observ'd, Fublicanus, 
 quasi publicus cards. 
 
 Mrs. JVh. Why, good Mr. Scruple, a member should 
 not be cut off for one failing. 
 
 Sc. Good, me no goods, good Mrs. Whitebroth ; I 
 teirthee here, sister of mine, it is a wilful failing— a 
 very wilful failing. 
 
 3frs. Wh. For why, I pray % The man is learned — 
 I am sure he told me all my husband's distemper be- 
 fore he so much as saw him. 
 
 Sc. Told ye ! Ay, there's the point. And I must 
 tell you too, he must needs use some unlawful means. 
 
 Mrs. Wli. Alas ! It cannot be. His wdfe, good 
 woman, is one of us ; and do you think, if he were 
 such, she would ever suffer it 1 
 
 Sc. AVhy, there's the blind. The woman is a sis- 
 terly woman, and an often frequenter ; w^hich he 
 allows of only to deceive the world, as if he were ! 
 Well, well, mark what I say ! — if he has not made some 
 secret express contract with Satan, I'll be your teacher 
 no longer. If you had ever read Doctor Faustus, this 
 would not be so strange to you. 
 
40 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Now, goodness defend it ! 
 
 Sc. Come, come, 'tis great pity it is not look't into. 
 I dare undertake, had this fellow set up in Spain, he 
 had been in the Inquisition long ere this. But we, 
 the more light we have, the less we see. We are wil- 
 fully, stiff-neckedly blind ; indeed we are. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Be not too rash. Many a good body's 
 wrong'd, or many of our brethren and sisters are not 
 what they should be. 
 
 Sc. Yes ! that was always the malice of the devil 
 and his instruments. But this fellow is a profest re- 
 probate. I have read his bills, and spoken with 
 several that have been with him, and they tell me he 
 has a globe ever standing upon his table, and never 
 answers any question propos'd without first turning 
 that. And why may not the devil be in that globe, as 
 well in the pummel of Paracelsus's sword, and Doctor 
 Dee's cristall ? D'you mark me that, gentlewoman % 
 Answer me that ! 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Nay, pray, Mr. Scruple, I must go to 
 him ; all that he told me was without his globe. I 
 mean no hurt. 
 
 Sc. That may be something in the case. Let me 
 see, what say the Casuists 1 If anything help you, it 
 must be the intention ; and that we are forc'd to make 
 use of in many cases, especially such as we cannot 
 hinder, and correct the viciousness of the means by 
 the purity of the end. For example : if a woman, 
 great with child, long for another man besides her 
 husband, and this husband will not give consent, in 
 this case we say, and so we generally agree, that 
 she may follow her natural inclination ; provided 
 always she have no intention of sin, but only to 
 satisfy her longing; for. Actus non facit rmm, nisi 
 mens sit rea. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Now, blessing on you, good sir ; I always 
 thought so. 
 
 Sc. In like manner : if a woman of a godly j^arent- 
 age do fall into a holy fornication, not out of lust 
 but love, and thereupon prove with child, in such a 
 
THE CHEATS. 41 
 
 case we say that it may be lawful to procure abor- 
 tion ; provided always it be not with intention of 
 murder, but only to save life or reputation. Nay, 
 further, lest the profession should be scandal'd by it, 
 we hold it better to trust Providence, by foreswearing 
 the fact, than to fall into the hands of men by con- 
 fessing the infirmity of the flesh. And in this, as 
 many other things, we agree with some gentlemen 
 abroad ; and truly, where we do differ, the diff'erence 
 between us is so fine and nice, we can hardly perceive 
 it ourselves. There is, as the schoolmen term it, an 
 identificadunity of principles common to us both. 
 They have their private shrifts ; so we. They call it 
 a venial sin "vvith a sister, and in case of necessity 
 can forgive a neighbour's wife ; so we. They allow 
 regulating by tumults ; so we. And lastly, they 
 deny all this in plain words, but grant it in eff'ects ; 
 so we.* 
 
 Mrs. Wh. What's this to me? May not I go, 
 good Mr. Scruple 1 
 
 Sc. If your intention be right, you may. However, 
 for fear of the worst, I will go with you ; I should be 
 loth to lose one of the best sheep in my flock for want 
 of a little care. Come, Mrs. Whitebroth, I did not 
 think to have done so much ; but you have such a 
 mnning way with you, such a power upon me, I can 
 deny you nothing — indeed I cannot. Come ! we must 
 now and then comply with one another's weakness. 
 
 [He leads her off. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. 'Tis a good hearing, sir. I thank you. 
 
 \Exeunt. 
 
 * Who shall decide when doctors disagree, 
 And soundest casuists doubt like you and me ? — PoPE. 
 
 What arguments they have to beguile poor, simple, unstable 
 souls with, I know not ; but, surely, the practical, casuistical, that 
 is the principal, vital part of their religion, savotirs very little of 
 spirituality. —South. 
 
 Morality, by her false guardian drawn. 
 Chicane in furs, and casuistry in lawn. — Pope. 
 
42 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 Enter Bilboe, leading Mrs. Double Diligence ; 
 and TiTERE Tu, leadi7ig Mrs. Mopus. 
 
 Bil. Come, gipsy ! how came you to light on this 
 house ? 'Tis a rare convenience. 
 
 Mrs. D. Oh ! she's our midwife. 
 
 T. T. And, faith, they are good necessary things, 
 and generally tractable before they grow rich. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. How do you know 'l I never met you 
 here before. 
 
 T. T. Time enough now. 
 
 Mrs. D. But pray, Major, is this gentleman married 1 
 
 Bil. Hang him, rogue — every man's boots serve 
 his turn. 
 
 T. T. And better so than going barefoot. I am 
 not married, sweet lady, but a lover still. 
 
 Mrs. D. A pretty gentleman ! 
 
 Mrs. Mop. He was, you would have said, had you 
 known him when I knew him first ; but now 
 
 T. T. As good as ever, my girl ! Dear Mopus ! 
 
 [He hugs her. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Away, Captain ! You do so mousle one ! 
 
 Bil. Nay, have a care of him. I say no more. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Marry ! I hope you are not in earnest. 
 
 T. T. And thou hast no more wit than to believe 
 him. As sound as a bell, wench ; as sound as a bell. 
 
 [He capers. 
 
 Mrs, Mop. Indeed, Captain, I hope the best. But 
 sure there's somewhat in 't — he does not fine up himself, 
 as he was wont. 
 
 T. T. I seldom regard fashions ; anything serves 
 me. Drape de berry in the summer keeps out the heat, 
 and stuff in the winter lets it in. I must confess, I 
 have three or four as rich suits for Flanders lace, 
 gimp, and embroidery, as any in the town. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. But where are they, good Captain, where 
 are they 1 
 
THE CHEATS. 43 
 
 T. T. Why, faith, I have had 'um all in my head 
 this twelvemonth, but could never yet get one of them 
 upon my back. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Troth, Captain, 'twould not be amiss at 
 this time if you open'd your head and took one of 
 'um out. 
 
 T. T. The jade's too hard for me. Hark you ! 
 
 \He picks her pocket. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. 0, good Captain ! It must buy the child 
 a new coat. 
 
 T. T. Hang him, brat ! one of thy old petticoats 
 will serve. Bestow money upon puppy-dogs ! 
 
 Mrs. Mop. You always serve me thus. Pray, Cap- 
 tain ! Give me some of 't again. 
 
 [He leads her aside, and whispers. 
 
 T. T. Not a cross, by this good light. D'you hear 
 me? 
 
 Bil. And must thy Major have no hatchments? 
 Prithee, disburse, disburse ! Dear landlady ! 
 
 [He hugs her. 
 
 Mrs. D. Indeed I have no money. One would think 
 your meat, drink, lodging, washing, and wringing were 
 worth somewhat. 
 
 Bil. Irish beef, by this good Tilbury — nothing but 
 sheep's heads and Irish beef 
 
 Mrs. D. 'Tis but too good for you, unless you were 
 more thankful. Many an honest gentleman would 
 be glad of your orts.* 
 
 Bil. Prithee, my best landlady, let the small gem 
 or the superfluous petticoat march. 
 
 Mrs. D. I will not always endure this ! For once 
 
 But shall we be merry then ? 
 
 [She plucks out a ^nece wrapt up. 
 
 Bil. As merry as thou wilt, my joe. Hang pinch- 
 ing ! we'll never pine ourselves, though our heirs 
 smart for 't. 
 
 Mrs. D. Here, Major, here's an old Elizabeth has 
 not seen light these seven years. 
 
 Bil. And ev'n let her go. She has been prisoner 
 * Leavings. 
 
44 THE CHEATS. 
 
 long enough, of all conscience. Come, Captain, let's 
 be merry ! 
 
 T. T. By this hand, 'tis true. — [SpeoMng to Mrs. 
 Mopus] — I love thee above all flesh alive. Fear 
 nothing ! All's well, and as right as my leg. 
 
 Bil. And that's crooked, to my knowledge. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Nay, good sir ; you do but jest ! 
 
 T. T. Hang him — hang him ! I have said enough. 
 And now I'm for you. Be true^ cuckolds ; he true, he 
 true, etc. \He sings. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Hoop holyday ! That's old. 
 
 T. T. You are for new faces too 1 Pray, Major, 
 will you oblige this lady ? 
 
 Bil Who, I ? With all my heart. But I've got 
 so strange a cold, and drunk so much French wine of 
 late, that, by this old companion of my side, 'twill be 
 but once remov'd from howling. 
 
 Mrs. D. However ; pray venture ! I never knew a 
 good voice without an excuse. Pray, try ! 
 
 Bil. My landlady might command me anything. 
 But I'm so out of tune. Ta, — la, la, la, la. Hang 't ! 
 
 T. T. Let him alone, and you won't be rid of him. 
 He's like the blind beggars of Bolonia ; a man must 
 give 'um a halfpenny to sing, and twopence to hold 
 their tongues. 
 
 BiLBOE Sings. 
 
 I. 
 
 Come, give the wench that is mellow. 
 And a pox take all fools that are yeUow ; 
 
 'Tis the horn, the horn. 
 
 The advancing of the horn. 
 Dubs a cuckold an alderman's fellow. 
 
 II. 
 
 Let no man disorder his rest 
 
 By believing bull's feathers in 's crest ; 
 
 When you've said what you can, 
 
 A cuckold is a man. 
 Or most of our fathers were beasts. 
 
THE CHEATS. 45 
 
 III. 
 
 Then let us sing, At it, and at it ; 
 
 And let ev'ry one catch that can catch it ; 
 
 All opinions agree 
 
 In one of these three — 
 The horn, the pot, or the placket. 
 
 Bil La, you now ! Did not I tell you as much ? 
 I'll have my pipes clear'd against we meet next. 
 
 Mrs. D. But when shall that be 1 
 
 Bil. When you will ; provide it be for all night, and 
 out of town. 
 
 Mrs. D. That's impossible ! 
 
 Bil. Not at all. You may leave word, you are gone 
 to a woman's labour. 
 
 Mrs. D. Hah ! hah ! But her husband 
 
 Bil. What? 
 
 Mrs. D. Will discover the contrary. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Puh ! puh ! Never let that trouble you. 
 His knowledge does not lie that way. You know, 
 Captain, I have slipt a man into his tables ere now, 
 and he not a farthing the wiser. 
 
 T. T. Ay, that thou hast, I'll be sworn. 
 
 Bil. Come, come ! let's in, and discourse it further. 
 A bottle and a fiddle, and then good-night. 
 
 T. T. A match, a match ! Lead up before, Major ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene v. 
 Enter Eunter and Tyro. 
 
 Bu. What think you of it ? She is a handsome 
 gentlewoman, and her father's heir. 
 
 Ty. Think, do you say 1 I'll promise you, my 
 stomach wambles* at her already. 
 
 * This word lias long been in use in Scotland as well as in 
 England. The celebrated Henry Erskine, Dean of the Faculty 
 of Advocates, when pleading before a venerable Senator of the 
 
46 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Ru. Leave it to me. I will not do with you as t 
 do with my clerk, snip half profits. But you know, 
 , sir, somewhat ought to be done. Danda est ossa. 
 
 Ty. Whatever you please, sir. If this take, I will 
 down into the country, get me an able clerk, and turn 
 Justice of peace. 
 
 Ru. And so you may. The Alderman is gone to 
 take the air, and ten to one but he makes this way 
 homeward. I did once, at distance, propose such a 
 thing ; and, now I perceive you relish it, I'll present 
 you to him. But to pass the time till he comes — 
 you say you are a bachelor of law ? I'll try your wit. 
 I have a case here referr'd to me ; pray observe it, and 
 give me your opinion in 't. I take it, it runs through 
 the whole twenty-four letters. These common 
 lawyers are our younger brothers, but they have 
 given us the start ; they never let anything come to 
 us but what they can make nothing of themselves. 
 
 Ty. Pray, sir, let me hear 't. 
 
 Ru. You shall. 'Tis thus : — \he reads] — ^Abigail, 
 a femme sole, seised in tail of the manor of Black-acre, 
 makes a feoffment in fee to Cutbeard, upon condition 
 that if Daniel shall release Emanuel of and from all 
 actions relating to Ferdinand, that then Gregory shall 
 satisfy Humphry of and for all marriage -portions 
 intended by Jeremy to be given Knipperdoling, with 
 his wife's daughter Lettice ; which, Maximilian per- 
 ceiving, and believing that Nicholas had a more than 
 ordinary influence upon Oh'ver, procures Peter to dis- 
 charge Quintilian, and engage Rowland to estate his 
 wife Susan in the capital messuage of Tonguewell 
 (with a certain salt-marsh and under-woods thereunto 
 belonging), and stop his daughter Ursela's mouth with 
 
 College of Justice somewhat slow of comprehension, advanced, 
 and most pertinaciously urged, a plea of which his Lordship did 
 not perceive the force, although he gave his full attention to the 
 learned lawyer's subtle arguments. When concluded, his Lord- 
 ship did not venture to deliver judgment, but calmly said : ' "Weel, 
 Hairry, there may be a great dale in what ye say, but I'll just let 
 it wimble-wamble in ray wame, an' I'll let ye ken what I think 
 o't the morn. ' This mode of dealing with a case is now termed 
 ' taking it to avizandum.' 
 
THE CHEATS. 47 
 
 a wind-mill and a water-mill left her by her mother. 
 Whereupon, Winifred, having lately recovered, in a 
 pre-contract against Xenophon, makes a lease to 
 Younker, who re-leases to Zachary, who enters upon 
 Abigail, who re-enters upon him, and, ejecting him 
 out of the premises, burns his principal evidences.' 
 And now, sir, what think you ? Where has this man 
 his remedy t 
 
 Ty. I should think, sir, he were gone at common 
 law, 
 
 Ru. You are always hankering after the common 
 law. How shall we hedge in the jurisdiction of 't ? 
 
 Ty. Indeed I cannot tell. But, they say, here is a 
 learned astrologer, that undertakes to tell such things 
 by the stars. Perhaps it might not be amiss to con- 
 sult him. 
 
 Ru. Hark you ! I dare trust you. He knows no 
 more of law than you or I do. Now, by my troth, 
 but it is a difficult case, and I have given my opinion 
 in 't both ways — the devil's in 't if one of 'um ben't 
 right. But, as I told you, the Alderman — his con- 
 stable and he are a little private ; they'll have done 
 presently. 
 
 Enter Whitebroth and Double Diligence. 
 
 Wh. How do you say it was ? 
 
 D. D. Why thus, an't please you : I had, according 
 to the duty of my office, just walk'd my round, w^hen 
 lo ! about the first of the morning, we perceived a 
 land of glimmering, as of Guido Faux's lanthorn ; and 
 we said unto it — ' Stand ! And what art thou 1 and 
 what meaneth that light at this unseasonable hour of 
 the night *? ' when presently a voice answered — ' Nay, 
 but what are yef and we said — ' The watch.' And to 
 our seeming, it said again — 'Harm watch, harm catch;' 
 and there fell a shower, as it had been of chamber- 
 pots ; and we were most lewdly bepist, and some pates 
 broken. 
 
 Wh. A plain case. The King's majesty's authority 
 affronted, in the representative person of my neighbour 
 
48 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Double Diligence, the constable. Bring 'um before 
 me ; I '11 make 'um know what's what. 
 
 D. D. Will it please your worship to grant me your 
 warrant 1 I had one from mistress's worship, during 
 your sickness, but could make nobody obey it. 
 
 Wh. How 1 not obey her warrant 1 I'd have 'um 
 to know she is, in my absence, as good a justice of 
 peace as myself Are not man and wife one person 
 in law 1 Not obey her warrant ! Let me see who 
 dares deny 't ! Come, neighbour, come, I smell a rat ; 
 what would you say now, if this should prove to be a 
 Bull from the Pope. I say no more. 
 
 [RuNTER and Tyro come up. 
 
 EiL Save you, Mr. Alderman ! I am glad to see 
 you so well abroad again. 
 
 JVh. Doctor Eunter ! my loving friend and 
 neighbour, well met. 
 
 Bu. This is the gentleman, sir, I told you of He 
 is a thriving young man, and you may do what you 
 will with him. 
 
 fVh. I shall be glad to be acquainted with you, sir. 
 
 Ty. I hope the doctor mil oblige me in 't. 
 
 JFh. Methinks the air is somewhat sharp. Come, 
 Doctor, take your friend with you. [Exeunt. 
 
 Act III. — Scene i. 
 Enter Jolly, Afterwit, and Boy. 
 
 Boy. Be pleas'd, gentlemen, to take a turn or two 
 in this room. My father is a little private with a 
 person of honour, but will be with you presently. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Jol. Where are we now 1 Nor better, nor worse, 
 but a downright astrological bawdyhouse. The devil 
 of anything could I see in t'other room but two or 
 three chairs broke in the back, half-a-dozen empty 
 gally-pots and a death's-head between two syringes. 
 
THE CHEATS. 49 
 
 Aft. You may guess forty times, and not hit so 
 right again. I believe him a better artist at bawdry 
 than conjuring. 
 
 Jol. Not a jot the worse instrument. Do but hear 
 him, and you'll quickly judge. And if you love me, 
 pray let me manage the conference. He 's somewhat 
 long. Where is this man of learning % 
 
 Enter MoPUS. 
 
 Mop. Here, sir ! A poor old man; one or other will 
 never let him be quiet till he is in his grave. Your 
 commands, gentlemen 1 
 
 Jol. Whj faith, this gentleman and myself have 
 receiv'd so large a character of you, that we are 
 come to wait on you in the behalf of a friend of 
 ours. 
 
 Mop. I have done somewhat in my time, and hope 
 I shall never be too old to do good. 
 
 Jol. You say well. There is a friend of ours, that 
 for the present shall be nameless, has got a small 
 mischance. You may guess what I mean. 
 
 Mop. Well, sir, I apprehend you, and will set him 
 right again. 
 
 Jol. Then you take it for granted it must be a man. 
 Suppose it be a woman, does that alter the case ? 
 
 Mop. Sir, I'll deal plainly with you. If your friend 
 be a man, I'll cure him for live pieces ; but if a woman, 
 I shall not take her in hand under twenty. 
 
 Jol. Why this great difference ] 
 
 Mop. sir, not without reason. The sooner you 
 cure a man, the sooner you have him again. He's a 
 constant Termor. But a woman — ah ! sir, she brings 
 grist to mill — cure her once and she grows cun- 
 ning ; you'll hardly hear of her more. I shall not 
 bate anything of twenty pieces to cure her. But this 
 I'll do with you — I'll patch her up against Term for 
 forty shillings. 
 
 Jol. Hah ! hah ! Let this satisfy you ; 'tis a man. 
 [He gives him money.] — I'll send him t'you. 
 
 Mop. Pray do ; and leave him to me. And if there 
 
 D 
 
50 THE CHEATS. 
 
 be any virtue in sassa, guaiacum, or turpentine, you 
 need not fear him. 
 
 Aft. A rare rogue ! [Aside. 
 
 Jol. Well, sir, I shall. But this is not all our busi- 
 ness. We are well satisfied that you are a person 
 of occult learning. Pray, sir, oblige us. 
 
 Mop. You look like gentlemen, and I am con- 
 fident are so. I'll be free with you. I could discover 
 a secret of nature to you, and for the expence of a 
 brace of hundred pounds put you in possession of 't. 
 It -will give you the knowledge of all things — past, 
 present, and to come ; and long life, health, youth, 
 blessedness, wisdom, and virtue shall be added to it. 
 
 Aft. As paper and pack-thread. [Aside. 
 
 Mop. But, if you should not make a right use of it, 
 by living soberly, temperately, and enjoying it, as if 
 you had it not ; but shall mis-employ it, in swagger- 
 ing, gluttony, worldly pride, and sensuality, you shall 
 not only lose it for the present, but be out of all 
 hopes of finding it again for the future. And this is 
 that which we call our Magisterium Elixer, or Eosy- 
 crucian Pantarva. The father of it is the sun, the 
 mother of it the moon, its brothers and sisters the 
 rest of the planets ; the wind carries it in its belly, 
 and the nurse thereof is the earth. 
 
 Jol. Pray, sir, proceed ; and disclose this son of gold. 
 
 Mop. Hermetically, I shall. It is situated in the 
 centre of the earth, and yet falls neither within centre 
 nor circumference ; small, and yet great ; earthy, and 
 yet watery ; airy, and yet very fire ; invisible, yet 
 easily found ; soft as down, yet hard above measure ; 
 far off", and yet near at hand. That that is inferior, 
 is as that which is superior ; and that which is superior 
 is as that which is inferior. Separate the combustible 
 from the incombustible, the earth from the fire, the 
 fluid from the viscous, the hot from the cold, the 
 moist from the dry, the hard from the soft, the subtile 
 from the thick — sweetly, and with a great deal of 
 judgment, per minima, in the caverns of the earth — 
 and thou shalt see it ascend to heaven, and descend 
 
THE CHEATS. 5l 
 
 to earth, and receive the powers of superiors and 
 inferiors. Comprehend this, and be happy ! Thou 
 liast discover'd the balsam of sulphur, the humidum 
 rculicale of metals, the sanctuary of nature ; and there 
 is little or nothing between thee and the mountain of 
 diamonds, and all the spirits of astromancy, geomancy, 
 and coschinomancy are at your command. 
 
 Jol. Pray, sir, how call you that % That last again ! 
 
 Mop. Coschinomancy, sir ; that is to say, the most 
 mysterious art of sieve and sheers. I must confess, I 
 was once of the mind to have oblig'd the world with 
 a discourse upon this subject; but since that, the 
 Avorld and I have been better acquainted, and I find 
 it base and unworthy. 
 
 Jol. Troth, sir, 'tis pity but you went on ; such a 
 Quixotism in philosophy must needs please every 
 man. For my own part, I dare promise you, you shall 
 want neither money nor coals as long as this gentle- 
 man's purse and mine can supply you. 
 
 Mop. A^Tiy, truly, sir, encouragement may do much. 
 I am neither Mede nor Persian ; upon good demon- 
 strative reasons I may be persuaded. — \A hell rings 
 ivithin.] — What pity it is, that beast of mankind, that 
 Goth to all good literature, — for he deserves no better 
 from me, — Dioclesian, burnt all the books of this art, 
 and for no other reason but that he fear'd, forsooth, 
 they would make gold too common. A wise fellow, — 
 another Lycurgus, — to avoid drunkenness, cut down 
 the \anes. You see by this he confest it feasible. 
 
 Enter Boy. 
 
 Boy. Sir, I must speak a word with you in haste. 
 
 Mop. Gentlemen, I'll wait on you again instantly. 
 
 Jol. By no means. We shall have further business 
 to you, and Avill see you again. We follow you. 
 
 [Exit MoPUS. 
 What say you, now 1 Is not this a special rogue 1 
 
 Aft. As ever breathed. But to my business — I am 
 afraid I shall want present money ; I could never find 
 any wheels move merrily VN^thout greasing. 
 
52 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Jol. Nor I neither. And therefore, to prevent the 
 worst, try to get t'other £1000 of the Alderman, and 
 crossbite him with his own money. 
 
 Aft. And that I can. He has oiFer'd it me ! 
 
 Jol. And do it. If a man must break, a £1000 
 will signify little in the sum. Come, mind your 
 business, and you cannot miscarry if you would ! 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 Scene ii. 
 Enter Whitebroth and Timothy. 
 
 Tim. I am glad to see your worship tread so lusty 
 and strong again. I hope you'll be better for 't. 
 
 Wh. Ay, Tim. 'Twould have vex't a man, to have 
 just got an estate, and strait pipt o'er the pearch he 
 had ere he had time to look upon 't. Mr. Scruple 
 l)ut divers things very home to me, and 'twas ten to 
 one but all had come out, but that I thought with 
 myself there was no such need yet. Come, Tim, leave 
 that, and let's see how affairs stand at present. How 
 have you done with your rotten raisins ? Did they 
 yield well "? 
 
 Ti7n. Troth, sir, the wine-coopers have done their 
 part ; they have made you at least sixty pipes of wine 
 out of 'um. But they advise your worship to get 
 your money for 'um before they stir out of your cellar ; 
 for however they may be palatable enough as long as 
 they lie there, yet, as soon as you stir 'um, they'll 
 kick up their heels. 
 
 Wh. Good enough to be pist against a wall an' 
 they were worse. And now I think on't, you 
 remember the country vintner, that bought the pipe 
 of Canary on shipboard, and gave it to Eascal-Mark, 
 to cheat the Customhouse ? See it be cran'd off into 
 another pipe, and fill'd up again with your new what 
 d' you call it 1 'Tis good enough for sinners. If he 
 discover it, you may tell him 'tis his own mark. 
 
THE CHEATS. 53 
 
 Tim. It shall be done. But, sir, Mr. Spendal was 
 to have waited on you yesterday touching a bond of 
 his of £500, which he says is paid, and you promis'd 
 to deliver up. 
 
 Wh. O ho ! let me see. Here 'tis — \]ie reads] — 
 ' If the said Spendal shall content, satisfy, and pay,' 
 etc. A^Tiy, see — the condition of the obligation, which 
 is made for his benefit, and not mine, says, if he shall 
 content. Pray tell him, notmthstanding the pay- 
 ment of the money, his bond is forfeited ; for I am 
 not contented. Does he think I can be content with 
 six per cent. ? I have no more to say to him ; I'll take 
 my course. Pray mind your own business. Have 
 you receiv'd the Jew's money, and sent him the pack 
 of left-handed gloves I order'd you % 
 
 Tim. Yes, sir ; 'tis done. 
 
 JVh. Put tricks upon me ! Make me buy a round 
 I^arcel of gloves ; and now you know I have 'um by 
 me, if I "^^all not bate a third part of the money, you 
 have occasion but for half of 'um, and be hang'd. I'll 
 Jew you, with a horse pox. I have receiv'd half your 
 money, and you shall have half the gloves — that is to 
 say, all the left-handed ones. You may truck them 
 off with maim'd soldiers ; if not, I'll make you pay 
 sauce for t'other. Reach me that book — and while 
 I remember it, go into my chamber, and upon the 
 table you'll find a £1000 in half-cro"vvns ; pray weigh 
 'um one by one, and lay by such as are over weight, 
 and see 'um melted down. 'Tis a hard world, and fit 
 every man make the most of his own. — [The hell rings.] 
 — See, w^ho's at door ! [Exit Timothy. 
 
 [SYhitebroth reads.] — ' Taken up on Bottomry, upon 
 the good ship call'd the Mary, to be paid with interest, 
 after the rate of £30 per cent., within ten days after 
 her coming to anchor in the River of Thames, £1700 ' 
 — So, so, that's paid : All got. She's sunk at New- 
 found-Land. Besides, I have insur'd a £1000 upon her 
 myself. How wealth trowls upon an honest man! 
 The master deserves a £100 extraordinary for this, 
 and shall have it. This is the fifth ship he has sunk 
 
54 THE CHEATS. 
 
 for me. ^ Item, Paid the Irish army, in Peru dollars.' 
 Ay, there's a sweet business. 
 
 Enter Timothy. 
 
 Who's that ? 
 
 Tim. Sir, Mr. Afterwit desires to see you. 
 
 iVTi. Stay him a while without ; I'll be for him 
 presently. — [Exit Tim.] — Here's a squire, too, will be 
 worth me somewhat. Let me see his account. 'Lent 
 his father, upon judgment, £4000. Item, More upon 
 a statute, £3000. Item, Upon mortgage, £2500. Item, 
 U2)on his own account, upon bond, £500. Item, More, 
 £300. Item, Bound to me, for other men, £1000.' 
 Pox o' these bonds ! I must persuade him to take 
 another £1000, and hedge all into one good mort- 
 gage. To see how this world goes round ! My great- 
 grandfather was a wealthy citizen, and left my grand- 
 father a gentleman, forsooth ! But what between my 
 my father and him, they so order'd the business that 
 they left me nev'r a groat. This fellow's grandfather 
 was a law-driver, and swallow'd my father up ; his 
 father set the estate a moving, and this will set it 
 quite away. His first ancestor cheated mine, and I 
 hoj^e I shall be able to requite his love upon his 
 posterity. Thus, you see, the wheel comes round to 
 the same point again. This city is like the sea — few 
 estates but ran out of 't at first, and will run into 't 
 at last. Timothy ! 
 
 Enter Timothy. 
 Desire my friend to walk in ! 
 
 Enter Afterwit. 
 
 Mr. Afterwit ! the welcom^st man alive ! You were 
 wont to come and sit with me ; but now, you're grown 
 such a courtier you forget your old friends. On my con- 
 science you want money, or I had not seen you now. 
 Away with 't ! 'tis all but dirt ! You shall not want 
 a £1000 as long as I can help you; nay, an' 'twere 
 £10,000, to do you good. The son of my old friend i 
 
 I 
 
THE CHEATS. 55 
 
 J ft. I thank you, sir, and shall make use of you ! 
 But I'll promise you, this was purely visit. 
 
 Wh. I am the more beholding to you. — [The waytes 
 play tvitlmi.] — Hark, Tim ! Beat out those rogues. 
 What would they have ] 
 
 Tim. They are the waytes, sir. They bid you good 
 morrow every morning; and they are now come to 
 congratulate your worship's recovery. 
 
 7Vh. I'll give 'um nothing ; they are the cause of 
 more beggars and bastards. When a man would 
 sleep quietly, they wake him, and be hang'd ; and 
 then the good woman plucks him by the sleeve, and 
 cries : ' Heark, husband, heark ! the waytes ! heark !' 
 Come, Mr. Afterwit, we'll out of the noise. 'Tis as 
 dreadful to me as the last trump. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 
 Enter Scruple ami Mrs. Whitebroth, conducted 
 by a Boy. 
 
 Sc. 'Tis a fine child ! I'll try his wit. How far 
 have you learnt, youth 1 
 
 Boy. Sententia puerilis, sir. 
 
 Sc. A good boy ! You may in time come to your 
 (/enus and species. 
 
 Boy. I am past that already — 
 
 ' Quae genus, aut flexum variant quaecunque novato 
 Ritu deficiunt superantve, heteroclita simto. ' 
 
 Sc. A most emphatical description of us, sister 
 Whitebroth. We are a kind of heteroclites ; and 
 oftentimes sav'd even contrary to rules. A witty 
 child ! Let's see ! Byssus, abissus ; how render you 
 that % 
 
 Boy. Byssus, a bottomless pit ; aUssus, a more bottom- 
 less pit. 
 
 Sc. Child, thou art in the right. There is a great 
 — great — great bottomless bottom. Indeed there is ! 
 
56 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Boy. Please you to give me leave to ask you one 
 word ? 
 . Sc. With all my heart, child. What is 't 1 
 
 Boy. What's the English of adolescentior ? 
 
 Sc. Adolescentior/ — Hum! Adolescentior I — Haw! 
 
 Adolescentior — Ay that is as much as to say — 
 
 adolescentior Now, fie child ! Ask questions with 
 
 that dirty face % Go wash it, child — go wash it ! 
 Fie, child, fie ! 
 
 Boy. It signifies a ladder. Adolescens, a lad; ado- 
 lescentior, a lad-der. 
 
 Sc. I profess I did not observe it. I see a man may 
 live and learn every day. Go, child, wash your face, 
 and let your father know I am here. 
 
 Boy. Yes, sir ; I shall. [Exit Boy. 
 
 Sc. Now, indeed, Mrs. W^hitebroth, this is your 
 fault. I am present in body, but absent in mind. 
 I could chide you now. But I hear him coming. 
 
 Enter MoPUS, as from his study. 
 
 Did not I tell you of that globe 1 'Tis well I did not 
 venture you by yourself I'll sift him. 
 
 Moix Worthy sir, and you, good madam, most wel- 
 come ! Be pleas'd to let me know your commands, 
 and you shall see I am so great a reverencer of your 
 coat that my whole art shall lie at your feet. 
 
 Sc. He speaks like other men. — [Aside.'] — You call 
 it right ; it is a coat indeed — no cassock, but a good, 
 plain, honest, distinguishing jump.* But to our busi- 
 ness. I have heard, sir, you are a man of art ; and 
 therefore I would fain know what you conceive of 
 this notable conjunction of Satan and Jupiter in 
 October next, which the learned believe to be the 
 forerunner of doomsday, if not the thing itself. 
 
 Mop. Saturn and Jupiter, you mean, in Sagitary ? 
 
 Sc. The same. What may it portend 1 Good or 
 eviU 
 
 Mop. Much good, no doubt ! Wherein, though I 
 
 * The weeping cassock scar'd into a jump, 
 A sign the presbyter's worn to the stamp. — Cleaveland, 
 
THE CHEATS. 57 
 
 dare not be positive, yet, as far as Trismegistus, 
 Albobazen, Haly ; Messahala, Zael, Rabbi Abraham ; 
 Albubater, Avenezra, Albumacer ; Guido, Bonetus, His- 
 palensis, Finnius ; Alchindus, Proclus, Monteregius ; 
 Albertus Teutonicus, Averrois ; and the most ancient 
 Chaldeans, Egyptians, Moors, Jews, or Arabians have 
 discourst, either this or the like, I shall give you my 
 opinion. 
 
 Sc. I profess, a great-read man ! 
 
 Mop. And here we are to observe, which of the 
 two planets, Saturn and Jupiter, — this the very best, 
 that the very worst, — is strongest at the time of his 
 conjunction ; for according to his nature will the 
 effects follow. 
 
 Sc. In truth, learnedly. Pray, sir, on ! 
 
 Mop. The last conjunction of these two planets 
 happened 
 
 Sc. Pray, sir, no chance or happening. Was, I 
 pray! 
 
 Map. Then, was in February 1643, in 25 degrees of 
 Pisces — a sign of the wat'ry triplicite, not known in 
 nature before, which produced those monstrous actions 
 not heard of in the world before. And now, forasmuch 
 as their conjunction is in Sagitary, the day-house and 
 triplicite of Jupiter, we may conclude it is the more 
 considerable, in regard they have wholly left the 
 aquatic trigon, and will for many years make their 
 conjunction in the fiery tranquillity; for when any 
 alteration from one trigon to his contrary happens 
 
 Sc. Good sir, no happening, let me beseech you ; 
 for look you, d'you see, as this — ^good sir, things come 
 not by hap or chance. 
 
 Mop. Well, what you please. It is impossible but 
 that some admirable effects, quite opposite to the 
 former, must needs follow. And of this opinion is 
 the learned Haly, and, generally, all the ancients and 
 moderns. 
 
 Sc. But suppose it should be otherwise 1 
 
 Mop. Then we're mistaken; and that's very unlikely, 
 amongst so many learned men. As we ordinarily 
 
58 THE CHEATS. 
 
 converse in the world, we may be mistaken ; but in 
 cathedra (that is to say, our studies), 'tis impossible. 
 
 Sc. A pretty word for a study. Cathedra, quasi 
 cathedra. But pray, sir, what effect do you conceive 
 this conjunction may have upon the whore of Babylon % 
 
 Mop. Why, truly, that is somewhat uncertain ; in 
 regard it will depend so much upon that great eclipse 
 of Sol in Cancer in the house of the moon, the 2 2d day 
 of June 1666, and will appear almost total at Eome. 
 For my part, I expect some or other should marry her 
 up, and make an honest woman of her, or otherwise 
 (as Mr. Brightman, upon his pair-royal of sixes, has 
 most excellently observ'd) she is likely to get such a 
 clap she'll hardly claw it off again in haste. 
 
 Sc. I do profess, you have handled the point notably. 
 I am convinc'd — there is no devil in this globe. 
 
 Mrs. Wli. La ! you know, Mr. Scruple, you'll trust 
 me another time ; won't you % 
 
 Sc. Eeproach not my good meaning. Certainly, 
 sir, you must needs have added a rare collection to 
 your own observation. 
 
 Mop. Yes, I have some toys, for so the world 
 esteems 'um. However, to me they are jewels. 
 
 Sc. As what, good sir 1 
 
 Mop. Many, many. In particular, a treatise of the 
 philosopher's stone, written by Janbosher, Adam's 
 tutor, whom you find recorded in the Indian books 
 written by Isagarith about a hundred years before his 
 time. 
 
 Sc. I thought letters had not been so ancient. 
 
 Mop. Alas ! there are diverse very good authors, writ 
 before the Flood. I have some half a dozen of 'um 
 within, if I could tell where to find 'um. Men of my 
 profession cannot well be without 'um. When I see 
 you next, I'll show you the very autographum by which 
 Seth drew his pillars. 
 
 Sc. Yes ; that were worth the seeing. And, now I 
 find you so near the Flood, give me the exact time 
 and the language of that time, and I'll say you're a 
 scholar. 
 
THE CHEATS. 59 
 
 Mop. For the time, it was, according to our com- 
 putation, the 5th day of June, in the 1656th year of 
 the world, one month and seventeen days, nor more 
 nor less ; and by all good tokens, upon a Friday — Sol 
 in Gemini. The Dominical letter that year D — fifteen 
 minutes precisely after sun-setting. 
 
 Sc. I see you're very exact. 
 
 Mop. Alas ! we must be so ; haK a minute's loss so 
 many years ago had been the Lord knows what by 
 this time. Then for the language, notwithstanding 
 anything that has been said to prove it high Dutch, 
 I am clearly of opinion it was Hebrew, or some other 
 jargon. 
 
 Sc. Nay, there you must bate me an ace ;* for, 
 though I look upon it as obscure as the head of Nile, 
 yet, as far as it may be lawful to pry into unreveal'd 
 mysteries, I dare boldly pronounce it to have been 
 Welsh. 
 
 Mop. Welsh I Afednvch cJuvi Gymercege ? 
 
 Sc. Why, truly, no ; but I have a Httle look'd into 
 the learning of the tongue, and that for two reasons. 
 The one, for the honour of my nurse ; for I am to tell 
 you I suck'd a Welsh nurse, and so, by a synecdoche 
 — [he pronounces it long] — may be called a AYelshman. 
 The other, that I have observ'd it makes an excellent 
 sound in a country church, and consequently is tanta- 
 mount to all the Eastern languages, and, I'll promise 
 you, as guttural (that is to say, throteral) — Y Craclog^ 
 Crugog, Crogicch, Y Gican icr hidl fu gan (r) hvch. 
 
 Mop. 0' my word, there's no more than Kaivse Fohi 
 in this. Pray, sir, how do you English it ? 
 
 Sc. It matters not ; or if it did, 'tis not the custom. 
 But I had almost lost the arg-ument. I say 'twas 
 Welsh, and thus I prove it. 'Tis confest of all hands, 
 that before the confusion of tongues there was but 
 one language ; which being so, 'tis more than pro- 
 bable that Gomer, the first grandchild of Noah, and 
 first ancestor of the Welshmen, spake the same lan- 
 
 * ' Excuse me there.'— Naees. See Davenant's Works, vol. L 
 p. 158. 
 
60 THE CHEATS. 
 
 guage that liis grandfather did ; and that from him, 
 by continu'd succession, it has t3een deriv'd to them. 
 For example : Ask a Welshman at this day what 
 countrjTnan ? He will answer, Cimro glan, a true 
 Welshman ; that is to say, Gomera glan. In like 
 manner, for his language, Gymercege quasi Gomercege ; 
 both from Gomer. And, truly, I take the Cimbrians 
 to be much the same — Cimbri quasi Cambrit, quasi 
 Cymbri, quasi Gomeri. And again, Mumgumri, quasi 
 Mount Gomery — the very seat of Gomer himself. 
 
 Mop. This is draper, diaper ; napkin, nipkin ; pip- 
 kin. King Pepin. 
 
 Sc. Most excellent ! I see you have studied etymo- 
 logy. I might yet further, and, I think, without 
 much difficulty, make it out that the mountains of 
 Ararat were Penmenmaure in Wales ; and the most 
 ancient Egyptians originally Welsh, as may be more 
 than suspected from their deification of leeks. But I 
 had rather come nearer home. What, pray, were the 
 Galli Senones that sack'd Rome 1 Welshmen, no 
 doubt ; the very name speaks it — Gallus, Guallus, or 
 JVallus^ a Welshman. In like manner, the Gallo- 
 Grcedans, under Brennus, the same — Brennus, Brcnn, 
 or Brenning, a king, in Welsh. But what do I go 
 about to prove that which nobody dares deny 1 I'll 
 give you but one smart parting blow. The red-streak't 
 apple which makes such excellent cyder, what was it 
 originally but the Welsh crab "? 
 
 Mop. Sir, you have shown yourself a person of no 
 ordinary learning ; and because I see you are a vir- 
 tuoso, be pleased to walk in with me, and I may 
 chance to show you some rarities not unworthy your 
 perusal. And you, madam, if you have any commands 
 for me, I'll receive 'um there. 
 
 Sc. We'll follow you, sir. [E^unt 
 
the cheats. 61 
 
 Scene iv. 
 Enter Whitebroth, Tyro, and Timothy. 
 
 Wli. You're welcome, sir ! and I have heard so well 
 of you from the doctor, your friend, that I'll show you 
 fair play. Catch her, and take her. Timothy ! 
 
 Tim. Your pleasure, sir. 
 
 Wli. Go, bid my daughter come hither. 
 
 [Exit Timothy. 
 'Tis a good girl, and will make a good wife ; and I 
 hope, whoever marries her will be a good husband to 
 her. She will deserve it, though I say it. 
 
 Ty. Never fear it, sir. If ever I kill her, 'twill be 
 Adth kindness. My mother would always say 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 I was the best natur'd thing I 
 
 Wh. Come hither, Beatrice. I am going abroad, 
 and will leave you to entertain this gentleman till I 
 come again. 
 
 Bea. I shall obey you, sir. 
 
 [Tyro goes backward, scraping. 
 
 Wh. Nay, to her, man. Never fall into the rear 
 when you should charge. 
 
 Ty. I warrant you, sir, for one. 
 
 [Exit Whitebroth ; Tyro struts. 
 
 Bea. What, in the name of goodness, have we here 1 
 By my father's last words it should be a sweetheart, 
 forsooth ! How it struts, like a crow in a gutter ! I 
 have a great mind to hear it speak ! [All this aside. 
 
 Ty. Methinks, madam, this is a very fine room. 
 
 Bea. It cannot be otherwise, sir, while you are in it. 
 
 Ty. Alas ! good madam, 'tis your goodness ! Truly, 
 pray, what a clock do you count it ? 
 
 Bea. He has a mind to show his watch; but I'll 
 prevent him. — [Aside.] — 'Tis much about four, sir. 
 
 Ty. I have a thing in my pocket corrects the sun. 
 [He pulls out a large brass watch. 
 
62 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Bea. How do you call it, good sir ? 
 
 Ty. The vulgar call it a watch ; but according to 
 the learned, 'tis a frochleal Iwradeixe. 
 
 Bea. He that made it was as little sparing of his 
 stuff, as t' other of his breath, that new-christen'd it 
 by so stubborn a name. 
 
 Ty. Will your ladyship be pleas'd to accept it ? I 
 assure you 'tis at your service. It shall be part of 
 your imrafernalia. 
 
 Bea. By no means, sir. You speak in phrase ! 
 
 Ty. Alas ! madam, 'tis the way of the learned. Term 
 is three-quarters of the art. Here's this, now — \he 
 points to a wooden standisJi] — I warrant you, you would 
 have called it an ink-box, or at best a standish. 
 
 Bea. It appears no other to me at present. 
 
 Ty. Nor yet to me. But the word's too common ; 
 a butcher would have said as much. Oh, no ! 'Tis a 
 ligneous pixid, accommodated with two plumbeous 
 receptacles or stanneous repositories for ink and sand. 
 Or, more laconically, an escritoire. 
 
 Bea. You're learned, sir ! 
 
 Ty. Thanks to a good tutor, some small founda- 
 tion. I must present you something. — [He takes out 
 a flageolet.'] — -What say you to this ? Your better sort 
 of gentlemen seldom go without one of them in their 
 pockets. [As Tyro plays, 
 
 Enter Afterwit speaking to Timothy. 
 
 Aft. A suitor, say'st thou ? 'Tis a puppet ! 
 
 Tim. You may be too confident, sir. 
 
 Aft. There ! — [He gives Timothy money.'] — And if 
 your master comes to hear of it, tell him I was drunk. 
 
 Tim. I shall, sir. [Exit Timothy ; Aeterwit reels. 
 
 Aft. How now ! Where's the Alderman % AYhat 
 have we got here 1 A glister-pipe ? 
 
 [He strikes o^ Tyro's hat, and kicks him. 
 
 Bea. Forbear, sir ! Know where you are ! 
 
 Ty. The hat cost more money than to be made a 
 football. 
 
 Aft. Ha ! reply ? Madam, your fan ! 
 
THE CHEATS. 63 
 
 Ty. Murder ! murder ! murder ! 
 
 [Exit Tyro, and runs against a post. 
 
 Bea. Was there ever such rudeness I 
 
 [She offers to go out 
 
 Aft. Nay; you shall only stay to see I am not 
 drunk I thought this the best disguise I could use 
 to keep your father from believing I made any pre- 
 tences to you. Well, madam, I love you, and you 
 know it. You may be proud. Farewell ! [Exit. 
 
 Bea. A mad wooer ! However, would my father 
 lik'dhim! [Exit 
 
 Scene v. 
 
 Enter Whitebroth, Runter, Timothy, Double 
 Diligence, all the women, and Scruple leading two 
 of them. 
 
 Bu. Good Mr. Scruple, satisfy my conscience. An 
 oath adds no legality to the action. If I swear to kill 
 a man, must I do it ? 
 
 Sc. Why, thus — ^hum ! — ^haw ! — [He groios pettish.'] 
 — Conscience ! me no conscience. I came not hither 
 to resolve any man's conscience ; it is not my way. 
 Truly, I hope, neighbours — [he alters his voice] — I 
 may not only hope, but dare say, that you are all so 
 well satisfied of what I have deliver'd to you, that 
 you are really convinc'd that they are truths not to 
 be question'd. You know I meddle not with con- 
 science ; I came to teach ye. — [He raises his voice.] — 
 Did I for this preach up the holy covenant 1 told you 
 you must deny learning and reason, and give the good 
 cause a lift 1 Was it for this that that zealous son of 
 thunder, Mas' Andrew, told you that he came to you 
 mth a commission to bid you subscribe % that it was 
 a spiritual contract in letters of flesh 1 and that he 
 came a wooing to you for him that had commissionated 
 him, and therefore call'd upon you to come and be 
 handfasted by subscribing the contract ? Did I for 
 
64 THE CHEATS. 
 
 this convince you of the lawfulness of the thing, and, 
 as it were, compel you to the wedding 1 And will 
 you call that holy violence a Spanish inquisition ? 
 Have I done all this, and will you now fall back? 
 Shall our old lease run out, and the land be sow'd 
 with cockels again 1 Ah ! ha ! 
 
 [The women answer him iiith a long-draicn Hui ! 
 
 Ru. This is not the point. I cannot deny but that I 
 took it myself ; but then, was then ; and now, is now. 
 
 Sc. Ah ! be stedfast, and do not believe I speak this 
 out of particular egotism, or fondlishness to myself. 
 Ah I no. This thing of selfishness is a very nothing- 
 ness ; a mere — mere Ah ! do but consider it. — 
 
 [He is out, and turns it off.'] — (And pray, neighbours 
 there, leave your whispering, and mind the matter in 
 hand.) — Hum! — I say — ^hum ! do but consider what 
 acting, wonder-working, advancing, and Christian- 
 comforting times, these were. How the rebuke of 
 the poor, behed, slander'd people was taken away, 
 and their reputation clear'd ! Ah — ah ! what great 
 things were i^Tought upon the spirits of men, even 
 through the bowels of difficulty ! Aa ! Antichrist 
 was dying in his limbs ; nay, dying upwards. And 
 this kingdom, that was once so given to it that it 
 was caird the Pope's Ass — ah ! how was it become (as 
 the Assembly most happily found it out) the chief of 
 the ten horns that were to gore the whore ! Ah — aa ! 
 good people, do not fear. There are more Assemblies 
 coming, and more purses opening to carry on the 
 work. Ah ! comfort yourselves, that though these 
 land-destroying sins of superstition, innovation, and 
 idolatry were sins in the kingdom, they were not sins 
 of the kingdom ; and a nation was never destroy'd 
 without national sins. Mark that, beloved ; pray 
 mark that I — [The women again — hui.] — Aa ! rouze up 
 yourselves, and let this beget in you, as it were — 
 hum ! haw ! — new spiritual mouth- waterings. Let it 
 not be said of you that you began well, but gave it 
 over when there was most need of you. Aa ! — no — 
 If we must perish, 'tis better to perish in hope than 
 
THE CHEATS. 65 
 
 fear. Aa ! — we must be a doing people as well as a 
 sapng people. — [The vjomen again — hui.] — It is not 
 enough that you have done well already, but you 
 must press forward ; and like the Grecian, that when 
 his hands were cut off clap'd hold with his teeth. — 
 Ah — aa ! — do you but stand in the gap, and there is 
 a block in the way; it cannot be got over. The 
 nation cannot be destroyed as long as you are in 't. 
 Ah ! then, do not despond in this day of trial, this 
 day of treading down and not builduig up. Aa ! — 
 give not up this good old cause, which you have so 
 long contended for with so much precious blood and 
 so much precious treasure. Aa ! — forsake it not, lest 
 the malignants rejoice ; lest the malignant and dis- 
 affected say, ' You've fought to much purpose.' — Aa ! — 
 bear it yet but a little, and you will see Dagon totter ; 
 and when he is once running down hill, he will not 
 stop till he come to th' bottom. — \Here he sinks his 
 voice.'] — In the meantime, — ah ! — what remams % but 
 that (forasmuch as the sword is yet out of our hands) 
 — ah ! — but that we, as it were, descend from ourselves 
 in petitioning for toleration and preservation of our 
 mortal bodies against the rude enemy ; and that we 
 promise to be their servants in everything that we 
 shaU judge to be righteous. [Here, all — hui. 
 
 Bit. There I hold with you, good Mr. Scruple ; and 
 the Codes are of the same opinion. Tempori, aptare 
 decet. Come, let 's in, and consult the Form. 
 
 So. I am for no Form. Yea, I hate the name ; I 
 abominate it. Fmnm, bonum fragile est [Exeunt 
 
 Act iy. — Scene l 
 
 Enter Bilboe and Titere Tu, fighting. Bilboe 
 drives Titere Tu round the stage. 
 
 Bit I'll make a rogue of you, sirrah I 
 T. T. Why, Major ! Nay, good Major ! Have a care I 
 E 
 
66 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Bil. Thou son of a woman ! do'st think men are 
 bulls, and get their money by roaring 1 Cheat me 
 of my share, you dog 1 — \T. T. has one leg over.] — Are 
 you earthing, you rogue 1 I'll unkennel you ! 
 
 T. T. Nay, Major — Major, what d'you mean ? Nay, 
 nay, nay ; flesh and blood is not able to endure this. 
 — [He takes his sioord in both hands, winks, and runs 
 again at t'other; Bilboe runs off.] — Nay; I am bound 
 to follow no man. Do you think I am obliged to fight 
 you by the mile "? [Bilboe peeps in. 
 
 Bil. The rogue's afraid, or he had mischieft me. — 
 [He comes on again.] — Sa, sa, sa, sa ! 
 
 T. T. Hold, Major, hold ! Tore George, you might 
 have spoiled a man so. 
 
 Bil. Why, sirrah ? You stinking, lousy totterde- 
 mallion ! you raggamuffin, tarrarag rogue ! who made 
 you a captain 1 Was it not 1 1 Speak ! 
 
 T. T. No, troth, was it not. 'Twas even the box- 
 keeper of the Three Kings, and the Fleece link-boys 
 made us both — you a Major, and me a Captain. 
 
 Bil. Why, you Eotterdam \dllain, deny it if thou 
 canst! Did not I pick thee up at a threepenny 
 ordinary, brought you into gentlemen's company, 
 dub'd you a knight of the blade, taught you the 
 method of making new plots and borrowing half-a- 
 crown of your landlady upon the hopes of 'um, and 
 after all this sign'd your certificate to make you 
 capable of those arrears you never fought for ? And 
 do you now forget your patroon, sirrah *? do you forget 
 your patroon 1 
 
 T. T. And, good Major, recollect yourself too, if 
 you please. Don't you know that I know that you 
 were never above a corporal in all your life, and 
 that, too, not till fighting was quite out of fashion 1 
 Bow the stick on t'other side, and 'twill be straight. 
 
 Bil. I must kill the rogue ! — {They fight again, as 
 hefore.] — 'Twas bravely fought ! Thou hast acquitted 
 thyself like a man of mettle. Let's breathe ! 
 
 T. T. Did not I, if you are yet cool enough to hear 
 truth, teach you your top, your palm, and your slur 1 
 
THE CHEATS. 67 
 
 Shew'd you the mystery of jack-in-a-box,* and the frail 
 die 1 Taught you the use of up-hills, down-hills, and 
 petars 1 the wax'd, the grav'd, the slipt, the goad, the 
 fullam, the flat, the bristle, the bar ;t and, generally, 
 instructed you from prick -penny to long-lawrence 1 
 And is the question now, Who is beholden 1 
 
 Bil. That ever friends should fall out about trifles ! 
 — [They drop their swords and embrace.'] — Prithee, let's 
 discourse the business quietly ; and since 'tis gone so 
 far as to be taken notice of in the town, cross and pile J 
 between us who shall wear his arm in a scarf 
 
 T. T. Agreed ! But hold ! the de\dl a cross have 1 1 
 
 Bil, Or I. Then knots and flats ! Our swords shall 
 serve. This, knots ; that, flats. I cry knots ! 
 
 T. T. And I flats ! Twirl up ! — [Bilboe twirls up 
 his swoi'd.] — 'Tis flats ! 'Tis yours, Major ; all thine 
 own, boy ! 
 
 Bil. Well, it can't be help'd. A man's ne'er the 
 worse man for a mischance. But hark you, Captain ! 
 upon honour, no talking 1 
 
 T. T. No, no, no ! First blood ! first blood ! And 
 now. Major, you think I cheated you 1 By this good 
 Morglay ! the rogue was resolved to fight, and I had no 
 reason but to suffer it to be taken up. I'll be sworn, 
 I got not so much as a reconciliation supper by 't ! 
 
 Bil. This is it, when men must manage their busi- 
 ness by themselves. All covet, and all lose. You 
 think you are well enough if you can but say your 
 gamut by rote, though you are not able to prove a 
 note of 't. Come, come ! I must tell you there's more 
 
 * Substituting empty boxes for others of like appearance full of 
 money. 
 
 t These terms are applicable to false or loaded dice, or to the 
 knavish mode of handliiig them. 
 
 X Cross and pile — a chance play with money, such as that now 
 called pitch and toss. 
 
 T^Tiackum had neither cross nor pile, 
 
 His plunder was not worth the while. — HuDiBKAS. 
 
 This I humbly conceive to be perfect boys' play ; cro^s, I win, 
 and pile, you lose ; or, what is yours is mine, and what's mine is 
 my own. — Swift. 
 
68 THE CHEATS. 
 
 requii^ed to be a rogue than to say I will be a rogue ! 
 A man would have thought one of your years and 
 education might have easily guessed who would fight 
 and who not. 
 
 T. T. Pox on 't ! 'tis past ! 
 
 Enter Tyro. 
 
 Prithee, no more of 't ! See ! here comes my squire 
 I told you of ! Noble squire 1 Your servant ! Pray, 
 Major, be pleas'd to know my friend ! 
 
 [BiLBOE and Tyro salute. 
 
 Ty. Oh, Captain, I have been all about to look for 
 you ! Not fighting, I hope 1 
 
 T. T. No ! The Major and I have been only mea- 
 suring blades. Here's the pretty'st thing you ever 
 handled. Hey, dash ! — \He foins at Tyro.] — Toledo 
 to an inch ; right Thomas de Ayala ! Upon my credit, 
 but two of 'um came over in three ships. Do but see 
 how finely 'tis mounted ! Sa, sa ! Observe — how 
 true it bends! Ah! for a pass in flanconade ! — [At 
 Tyro again.'] — 'Tis a trusty steel, and has been the 
 death of 
 
 Bil. A thousand frogs ! [Aside. 
 
 T. T. More than I'll speak of ; or, to tell you truth, 
 dare. But hark you, squire ! hast thou any noble 
 achievements for thy man of Mars % Must the great 
 Turk die 1 Speak ! His breath hangs on thy lips ! 
 
 Ty. Why, truly. Captain, I came to ask your advice. 
 I have been most lamentably abus'd ; nay, in the pre- 
 sence of my mistress, too ! 
 
 T. T. Send him a cartel, boy ! send him a cartel, 
 and I'll carry it ! Is he of mortal race 1 
 
 Ty. Why, truly. Captain, I cannot tell what he is. 
 But this I am sure, he had a good material hand and 
 hoof. 
 
 Bil. How, Captain 1 This gentleman is your friend 1 
 
 T. T. He is ; and I'm engaged in honour to see him 
 righted ! 
 
 Bil. 'Twas bravely spoke. And pray, think of no 
 second but myself Good sir ! — [to Tyro] — set forth 
 
THE CHEATS. 69 
 
 the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth ^ 
 it may be matter of life. 
 
 Ty. Then, so 't please you, thus : — I was entertain- 
 ing my mistress with this little bauble 
 
 \He sTwius the jiageolet. 
 
 Bit. 'Tis somewhat beneath the standard, I must 
 confess. But pray, on ! 
 
 Ty. ^\Tien, of a sudden, a rude, roaring roisterer — 
 
 Bil. His name, good sir ? 
 
 Ty. Truly, I could not learn that. It being in the 
 city, 'tis probable it was some merchant or other got 
 drunk. 
 
 Bil. Not unlikely. Proceed ! 
 
 Ty. I say, then, this rude fellow, without scarce 
 saying a word, gives me a good sound box. 
 
 Bil. Not to interrupt you, sir, was it the bucketoon 
 or the bucketado % Logically or rhetorically '? That 
 is to say, with the clunch fist or open palm 1 
 
 Ty. Why, truly, neither. But, as near as I can 
 
 remember, it was with the back of the hand on the 
 
 cheek ; for, with the same motion, he strook off my 
 
 hat. Thus, Major ! [He strikes o/Bilboe's hat; 
 
 BiLBOE stoops, takes it up, and rubs it. 
 
 Bil. 0, ho ! the I)e rere main ! Why, then, the 
 question will be singly this — whether a blow with 
 the back of the hand upon the cheek may be call'd a 
 box on the ear. For my part, I am clearly of opinion 
 not. 
 
 T. T. To take it literally, I grant it you. But then 
 answer me whether it were not a probable box o' the 
 ear 1 I take it 'twas. 
 
 Bil. So far I agree with you. Captain. But pray, 
 sir, the rest ? 
 
 Ty. Then, as if his foot had kept time with his hand, 
 he gave me such a kick in ana, that, to avoid him, I 
 had almost beaten out my brains against a post ! 
 
 Bil. This last of the post was your own act, and 
 may by no means be call'd his. However, upon the 
 whole matter, you are wrong'd, and we'll see you 
 righted ! 
 
70 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Ty. Thank you, good Major ! I am beholden to 
 you ! 
 
 T. T. D'you hear me, Squire 1 You see what pains 
 the Major has taken in your business — you must 
 present him! 
 
 Ty. 'Tis my intention. Pray, let's meet here about 
 an hour hence, and we'll further consider of 't ! 
 
 T. T. We'll attend you. Your servant ! 
 
 \E7x,unt severally. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Enter Mopus, solus. 
 
 Mop. So, so ! the trade goes merrily on ! Let it 
 hold but one seven years, and I shall go near to fine 
 for Alderman. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Mopus. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Mopus ! Mopus ! Here's the constable's 
 wife to have her fortune read ! She had a bastard 
 before she was married ! has had two husbands, and 
 one daughter by this ! One Major Bilboe is her sweet- 
 heart ; and I more than believe our Alderman has a 
 finger in the pie too ! [Exit Mrs. Mopus. 
 
 Mop. The de^dl's in 't if I miss her fortune ! I shall 
 be conjuror whether I will or no. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Double Diligenck 
 
 Save you, gentlewoman ! Your business with me ? 
 
 Mrs. D. Indeed, sir, I have heard you are a cunning 
 man, and can tell a woman anything ! 
 
 Mop. Such things have been done, and may again. 
 Let me see your hand ! — [She gives him her hand ; he 
 pores on it] — Three husbands ! The first dead ; the 
 second li^dng — a man of authority ! 
 
 3Irs. D. Now, indeed, sir, he is a constable ! Bless 
 me ! 
 
 Mop. Your third shall be very rich — a common- 
 
THE CHEATS. 71 
 
 councilman at least ! 'and jou shall have children by 
 him ! 
 
 Mrs. D. How many have I had already 1 
 
 Mop. Let me see ? One daughter, and no more — 
 that is, since you were married ! 
 
 Mrs. D. To see what learning can do ! 
 
 3fop. Ah, mistress, I travell'd hard for 't ! I have 
 been where never any man was before me or since ! 
 I'll speak a bold word — I have been so far that I 
 might have put my finger in the very hole where the 
 ■wind came out ; and all this for a little knowledge ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Methinks 'tis a great deal ! Pray, a little 
 more ! 
 
 Mojp. You should have three diseases ; and if you 
 'scape the first and second you may arrive to the third. 
 You shall bury all three husbands, and be very fortu- 
 nate toward your latter ©nd ! You were born — \lie 
 turns Ms globe] — under Cancer; and have receiv'd a 
 hurt by fire, hot water, or some other way ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Now truly, but I burnt my hand with a 
 smoothing iron ! and all to be scal'd my foot, with 
 taking down the pot one day, when my maid was 
 gone abroad with her sweetheart ! 
 
 Mop. You have a natural mark, before or behind, 
 or somewhere about you, between your head and your 
 heel! 
 
 Mrs. D. That's more than I know ; but I'll have 
 my husband look to-morrow morning ! 
 
 Mop. You are pretty neat in your house ; somewhat 
 nimble, witty, subtile, and a good bed-fellow ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Indeed, sir, I know not why; but I've been 
 told so ! 
 
 Mop. Double-minded ; often changing your resolu- 
 tion ; prone to be angry, but quickly gone ; and now 
 and then love a bit in a corner ! 
 
 Mrs. D. 'Tis best eating when one's a-hungry. 
 
 Mop. Your good days are Monday, Wednesday, 
 Friday. Your evil, Tuesday and Thursday. Satur- 
 day, indifferent. Your good fortune lies south and 
 by north ; and therefore direct your affairs that 
 
72 THE CHEATS. 
 
 way, aiid place your chamber door and bed to that 
 side ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Now, beshrew me, sir, but I'll observe your 
 directions ! 
 
 Mop. Once more your hand ! Your Mons Veneris 
 is exalted. You love ! Ay, marry, that you do ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Nay, now, sir ! what d'you mean 1 I love 
 nothing but what all women do, — their husbands ! 
 
 Mop. Two strange thwarting lines across the cin- 
 guhim. You have a sweetheart or two besides your 
 husband ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Who ? I, sir 1 I'd have you know I'm 
 no such ! I am as honest a woman as any in the 
 parish ! I scorn your words ! 
 
 Mop. No doubt of it. Let me see how your hand 
 
 agrees with my globe. He is \he turns his glohe, 
 
 and describes Bilboe] — Suppose I should name him 
 to you ? B-I-L — Bilboe ! He belongs to the sword. 
 
 Mrs. D. Oh, sir, have a care ! If my husband 
 should hear you, he would run horn-mad, and knock 
 both our brains out with his staff of authority ! 
 
 Mop. To show you more of my art — You had a 
 bastard before you were married ; and there is an 
 old fellow that haunts you. — [He describes the Alder- 
 man.'] — What say you ? 
 
 Mrs. D. Oh, good sir! If you discover me I am 
 undone ! 
 
 Enter Boy. 
 
 Boy. Sir, there are two gentlemen below desire to 
 speak with you. 
 
 Mop. I will wait on 'um presently. — [Exit Boy.] — 
 Never fear me ! We are oblig'd, by our order of the 
 Rosie Cross, to keep all confessions secret. 'Tis our 
 Alderman ; that's more ! 
 
 Mrs. J). If you should betray me, now 1 
 
 Mop. I will not — I will not ! But hark you — 
 upon condition still you give me a bit too ! 
 
 [He coils''^' her. 
 
 * Clasps. This stage direction is in the first ed. only. 
 
 I 
 
THE CHEATS. 73 
 
 Mrs. D. Oh, sir ! 'tis impossible ! Your wife's in 
 t'other room ! The gentlemen stay for you below ! 
 Somebody's coming up ! Mrs. Mopus ! Mrs. Mopus ! 
 
 [She speaks as if she would not he heard. 
 Mop. Hang her, jade ! 
 
 [As Mopus kisses aiul ptdls Mr, 
 
 Enter Jolly and Afterwit behind them. 
 
 Aft. See ! see ! see ! I' faith, Mr. Doctor, is 
 this your li\dng soberly, temperately, and enjoying 
 it as if you had it not ? [Mrs. D. scuttles away. 
 
 Jol. Is this your magisterium, elixar, or Eosycrucian 
 pantarva '? No, sirrrah ! The father of this is the 
 de\T[l ; the mother, his dam ; its brothers and sisters, 
 the tribe of whore-hoppers ; the wind carries it from 
 bawdy-house to bawdy-house, and the nurse thereof is 
 a suburb-tantrum ! 
 
 Mop. A plague o' this boy ! Undone for ever ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Jol. Are you so hot 1 I'll cool you ! D'ye hear 
 me ? Give the next porter half a cro^vn, and let him 
 fetch Double Diligence, the constable ! I am mistaken, 
 or the woman we found here was his wife ! 
 
 Aft. Keep him in the mean time. 
 
 Jol. I warrant you, he stirs not ! 
 
 [Afterwit offers to go out. 
 
 Mop. Gentlemen ! Good gentlemen ! As you are 
 men, you undo me for ever ! Study wherein I may 
 serve you ! 
 
 Jol. Stay a little ! — [to Afterwit.] — Confess, and 
 you shall see what we'll say to you ! Art not thou a 
 damn'd cheating rogue % How hast thou the impudence 
 to believe that anything but fools should come near, 
 thee? 
 
 Mop. Nor would I, by my good will, deal with 
 other. Do you take the wise men, and give me the 
 fools ; and then see who'll have the most practice ! 
 There are but two sorts of people in the world — aut 
 qui captant, aut qui captantur ; aut corvi qui lacerant, aut 
 cadavera quce lacerantur. Which the great Albumazer has 
 
74 THE CHEATS. 
 
 most significantly rendered by cheaters and cheatees. 
 If it were not for fools, sir, how should knaves live 1 
 
 Jol. An ingenious beginning ! If it hold, much 
 may be said ! 
 
 Mop, You are gentlemen, and, I see, understand. 
 I'll be plain with you. Examine the world, and 
 you'll find three-quarters of 't downright fools ; and 
 for the rest, six parts in seven little besides band and 
 beard ; and yet they make a great bustle in the world, 
 and pass for shrewd men ! And can you blame me, 
 then ? Did you ever hear a fishwife cry stinking 
 mackarel 1 or a citizen, gumm'd velvet ? No ! The 
 best in the town, though the worst in his shop ! Here 
 we have a learned consultation, whether my lady may 
 eat butter with her eggs, or have her posset turn'd 
 with lemon or ale. Yonder another keeps a sputter, 
 with his new, new, new ! the walley'd * mare, and 
 the cropt flea-bitten ; a book with a hard title ; a 
 new-found language in Ireland ; Turk and Pope ; 
 the flesh -office ; my lady's dog ; the safest way of 
 cutting of corns ; a bag of writings ; a house of 
 the Bank-side ; the christening of another Turk ; 
 a Franciscan proselyte, gentlemen-ushers and maid- 
 servants ; dentifrices and lozenges. Another daubs 
 you whole volumes with the difference between 
 sufficient and efficacious. Another, whether the 
 lining of Aaron's ephod were sky-colour'd or sea- 
 green ; and hack and hew so desperately about their 
 goats' wool, a man would bless himself to see such 
 piles of elaborate nonsense ! And now, gentlemen, 
 am I the only man in fault 1 The worst you can say 
 is, the people have so little wit as to give me money ; 
 and I am so mad as to pocket the injury ! Does this 
 satisfy ? 
 
 Aft. Eogue enough ! But is 't not possible to make 
 thee honest ? 
 
 Mop. Try me. I have a wife and three children — 
 
 * Having eyes with an undue proportion of white. 
 
 "Wall-eyed slave ! whither wouldst thou convey 
 
 This growing image of thy fiend-like face ? — Shakespeake. 
 
THE CHEATS. 75 
 
 the devil take my mfe and two of them, if ever I fail 
 you ! 
 
 Aft. A safe wish. But suppose I should order it 
 so that a young lady come to you, could you so read 
 her fortune as to make her marry me 1 You know 
 how to play your part if you please ! 
 
 Mop. And if I don't to your advantage, cut my 
 throat ! 
 
 Aft. Ye must know 't at last. I had as good tell 
 him the person. [To Jolly. 
 
 Jol. So you may ; and do ! 
 
 Aft. Hold up thy hand ! To make thee honest, 
 here's twenty pieces for thee ; and if thou dost thy 
 business, I'll give thee two hundred more. What 
 sayest thou % 
 
 Mop. If I betray you, or do not my best, be seven 
 years in killing me ! 
 
 Aft. You know Alderman Whitebroth % 
 
 Mop. Know him ! Why, I am his doctor ! 
 
 Aft, 'Tis his daughter. You know your work 1 
 
 Mop. And if you don't do 't, I'll run my country ! 
 And now, gentlemen, you shall say I am honest. 
 You observ'd the woman that was here when you 
 came in ? 
 
 Aft. Yes ; what of her ? 
 
 Mop. Why, she is the Constable's wife, whom, to 
 be short, the Alderman cuckolds. 
 
 Jol. Hah ! Are you sure of it % 
 
 Mop. By the help of this globe, I made her confess 
 that the Alderman and one Bilboe play level de coile 
 T\dth her. But (I may tell it you now) my wife gave 
 me the first hint of 't. 
 
 Jol. Hah! hah! Thou art honest! Bilboe 1 A 
 Hector ! He lies in the Constable's house % 
 
 Mop. The same ! Make what use of it you will ; 
 I'll promise you to follow your directions. 
 
 Aft. This was better than wish ! Come, we *11 lay 
 our heads together, and you shall hear of us suddenly ! 
 
76 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 
 Enter Whitebroth, Eunter, Timothy, Beatrice, 
 and Scruple, leading Mrs. Whitebroth. 
 
 Wh. Was he so drunk, 6!jom say *? 
 
 Tim. As ten thousand beggars ! 
 
 WTi. So, so ! his money's jogging already ! Alas, 
 Mr. Eunter, you hear what he says ? He was drunk ! 
 
 Tim. Indeed, sir, I was never but half so bad in all 
 my life, and then I was maudlin for a whole month 
 after. 
 
 Sc. And well it became you ! Compunction is good, 
 Timothy. 
 
 Pat. \Vhat say you, sir 1 Mr. Tyro is a civil, 
 hopeful gentleman, and, I am sure, loves your 
 daughter ! 
 
 JVh. Nay, speak to her. There she is ! 
 
 Bea. Love me ! 'Tis more than ever he told me 
 yet ! 
 
 Sc. He is a little modest. Ingenui vultits puer, 
 ingenuique pudoris. Truly, I think you could not have 
 chosen better. 
 
 Bea. I chosen, sir ? You ^vill not persuade me, I 
 hope, that I am in love ? If I am, I can assure you 
 'tis not Avith him ! 
 
 Mrs. Wh. How, child ! Not be rul'd by your 
 father 1 Indeed, husband, it would be worth your 
 while to have an eye upon her ! 
 
 JVh. And your own too, good wife ! 
 
 Sc. It should be both your care. You must provide 
 a husband for her in time, or she will provide one 
 herself. 
 
 Wh. Come, leave this discourse to another time. 
 You know we have business ! 
 
 [Exeunt. Manet Timothy. 
 
 Tim. What pity 'tis that this Monsieur le Coxcomb, 
 Tyro, should have my young mistress ! A fool, that 
 knows not the use of money, but to play at bob- 
 
THE CHEATS. 77 
 
 farthing and span-counter. Afterwit has most right to 
 her, for his estate's sake. Come, come, he is a gentle- 
 man ; and if things hit right, thou shalt have her, 
 boy ! [Exit 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 Enter Bilboe (his arm in a scarf) and Titeke Tu at 
 one door, Tyro at another. 
 
 Ty. Alas, Major ! Your arm in a scarf ? 
 
 Bil. Why, faith, a small badge of honour ! And 
 I was drest up in haste, that I might not fail you. 
 
 Ty. How was it, good Major ? 
 
 Bil. Nothing, nothing, but a small brush about the 
 wall, and I know not why ; but I fancied he might be 
 the person that affronted you. To be short, he made 
 me this pass in second, and I turn'd it so nimbly in 
 tierce, that I made the sun shine clean through him ! 
 
 T. T. Lightning ! by this hand, lightning ! Well ! 
 [He claps Bilboe on the hack. 
 
 Bil. Uh ! Have a care. Captain ! [Bilboe shrinks. 
 
 T. T. Go thy ways ; and if thou takest a swing in 
 quart* for 't, there hangs as brave a fellow as has hung 
 there these forty years ! 
 
 Ty. No murder, I hope, good Major 1 
 
 Bil. Let him look to that ! I neither know nor 
 care. Don't be troubled, boy. I have an arm yet 
 left to fight thy battles ! 
 
 Ty. I thank you, sir. Be pleased 
 
 [He gives Bilboe money. 
 
 Bil. sir ! Your love 
 
 T. T. Ne'er doubt him. Squire. I'd as leif have 
 him upon his stumps as twenty others upon no legs. 
 
 Ty. Well, gentlemen, courage ! For my own part, I 
 fear no flesh alive. No, upon my life and soul, don't 
 
 *■ Continviing the fencing terms used by Bilboe, Titere Tu pur- 
 poses this for a pun — ' quart,' or ' quarter,' also signifying an 
 upright beam, meant here to express the gallows. 
 
78 THE CHEATS. 
 
 I ! And I believe the same of you. You may fight — 
 you are men of the sword ! But for me, a man o' th' 
 law ! How say you, Captain ] 
 
 T. T. By no means, Squire ! 
 
 Bit. Say no more — He's dead ! 
 
 Ty. Nay, good Major, have a care ! No more 
 murder ! 
 
 Bil. What you please. I'll use him the better for 
 your sake. 
 
 Enter Apterwit. 
 
 Ty. See, Captain ! this is he ! 
 
 T. T. Pray, sir, withdraw ; and hazard not yourself ! 
 It may prove dangerous. \Exit Tyro. 
 
 Aft. I have out-stay'd my time — \to himself.^ — With 
 your favour, sir, what's o'clock 1 
 
 T. T. Look upon the dial. — [Titere Tu turns up 
 his hreech to him. Afterwit kicks him on the face 
 thereof, takes away his stvord, and sets one foot on him. 
 
 Aft. It wants a gnomon. [Bilboe steps in. 
 
 Bil. Hold thy death-threatening hand ! He is a 
 captain ! Let him die fairly ! You do well to pre- 
 sume upon this scarf ! I ha'n't been wont to see such 
 things and carry my hands in my pocket. 
 
 Enter Jolly. 
 
 But 
 
 Jol. Thou art not mad, man 1 Hold ! 
 
 Aft. The rogue has affronted me for speaking 
 kindly to him. Be quick, and let me know the 
 cause, or I'll nail thee to the ground for an example to 
 others ! 
 
 Bit. You have injur'd a worthy friend of ours, 
 —Squire Tyro ! 
 
 Aft. If that be all, rise ! There's your sword 1 
 
 Bil. By no means, sir ! — [Bilboe claps between 'um.] 
 — 'Tis against the law of arms to hold a sword 
 against any man has had our life at his mercy. 
 
 Jol. Major Bilboe, I think 1 
 
 Bil. The same, sir. I should know that face too. 
 
THE CHEATS. 79 
 
 Certain, sir, I have had the honour to be drunk in 
 your company ere now ! 
 
 Jol. And not unlikely ! We must not part with dry 
 lips now. Afterwit — our friend — dost not remember 
 we were merry together, at • 
 
 Aft. Oh ! Your servant, sir ! {They salute. 
 
 Jol. Come — all friends ! Well, Major, to renew our 
 acquaintance, I have the best humour for you. 'Twill 
 get you the pence, and all of us mirth ! 
 
 Bil. And what may it be % 
 
 Jol. Dismiss your friend to the next tavern, and 
 I'll tell you ! [Bilboe whispers Titere Tu. 
 
 T. T. Methinks I find a dislocation in my crupper. 
 Your servant, gentlemen ! 
 
 [Titere Tu goes limping off. 
 
 Bil. Your servant, you rogue, your servant ! Now, 
 sir, your commands 1 
 
 Jol. To the point, then ! If you are honest to us, 
 it may be worth you £500. If not, we are two to 
 one, persons unstain'd in our reputation ; and if we 
 deny, your affirmation will signify little ! Will you 
 be trusty 1 
 
 Bil. As steel, my boy ! What is 't 1 
 
 Jol. You lie at Double Diligence, the Constable's 
 house % 
 
 Bil I do. What then ? 
 
 Jol. And now and then, for diversion, with your 
 landlady % 
 
 Bil. No wounding of reputation, good gentlemen ! 
 She's a pretty fly-boat ; two men won't sink her ! 
 
 Aft. Nor three, I warrant you ! 
 
 Bil. It may be not. Have you a mind, gentlemen "? 
 
 Jol. Oh, no, sir ! I hope Alderman Whitebroth 
 visits you pretty often ? 
 
 Bil. For his rent, or so. 
 
 Jol. Then we know more than you. He has a lick 
 at her too. Will you assist us in a design 1 
 
 Bil. By the faith of a soldate and a man of arms, 
 I will! 
 
 Aft. To engage you, then, here's twenty pieces for 
 
80 THE CHEATS. 
 
 you. You must trepan him with the Constable's wife. 
 If you find her shy, you may bring in her husband 
 for a share. My neck on 't, you square him out of 
 a £1000 at least ! He'll do anything rather than to 
 have it known ! 
 
 Bil. Do 't 1 and thank you too ! The bed-pad is 
 the safest pad. Here's my hand ; I'll be honest to 
 you! 
 
 Jol. Well, see you are ; and let's hear from you 
 again as soon as you can. In the mean time, do you 
 two go to the Captain. You know whither I am 
 going. Farewell ! [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene v. 
 
 Enter CiS, sola. 
 
 Cis. That I could meet with Mr. Afterwit now ! 
 He'll never get such another opportunity ! And at 
 home 'tis vain to think it. 
 
 Enter Jolly. 
 
 Jol ! Cis ! Well met ! 'Tis my good girl ! 
 
 [He calls and kisses her. 
 
 Cis. Nay, pish ! stand away ! Come, do what you 
 will, but don't you .rumple my handkercher ! 
 
 Jol. Alas, poor thing ! I warrant, you much minded 
 what I spake to you of last ! Have you said anything 
 to your mistress about it 1 
 
 Cis. Yes, that I have ! And she likes him well 
 enough ; but she will never marry without her 
 father's consent. She loves him well, but her father's 
 estate better ! 
 
 Jol. A good crafty wench ! Let us but secure her, 
 I'll warrant the estate ! And if thou dost it, Cis, I'll 
 promise thee a good portion, and a better husband ! 
 
 Cis. What would you have me do ? 
 
 Jol. Lose no opportunity of commending Mr. 
 Afterwit to her, — a gentleman — a fine man — a 
 
THE CHEATS. 81 
 
 handsome man — a proper man — and, you dare 
 warrant, a good woman's man. And, hark you, you 
 may tell her how Tyro had hir'd a couple of fellows 
 to hector him, and that he came off iDravely — and 
 all this for her ! 
 
 Cis. Indeed, sir, I will not fail you in a tittle ! 
 
 Jol But were 't not possible to get her to Mopus's, 
 to have her fortune read 1 
 
 Cis. Suppose I should 1 What then 1 
 
 Jol. The work were done ! 
 
 Cis. Then trouble not yourself. She made me 
 steal out before, and is just following me to that pur- 
 pose. But, hang him, he knows as much as my 
 horse ! I had almost told her how Tim and I cheated 
 him with some dead ale in a urinal instead of my 
 master's water, but that Mr. Scruple and my old 
 mistress have so cried him up. 
 
 Jol. Have a care of stories ; they may spoil all. 
 The fellow is ignorant enough, there's no doubt of 't. 
 But yet, as long as they believe him knowing, mil be 
 easily able to do my friend's business. Prithee, desire 
 her to make him show her her husband's face in a 
 glass. Doubt nothing, but follow your instructions. 
 I must to Afterwit, and let him know whither his 
 mistress is going. 
 
 Cis. Well, trust to me ! Begone ! I hear her com- 
 ing ! [Exit Jolly at oiie dam; 
 
 Enter Beatrice at another. 
 
 Bea. ! Cis ! I am stol'n out with much ado ! 
 Shall we go 1 What dost think of him 1 
 
 Cis. Truly, I take him for a huge cunning man. 
 He has told all the maids of the parish the strangest 
 things ; and, they say, can show one one's sweet- 
 heart's face in a glass ! 
 
 Bea. If he can do that Til believe him ! I am so 
 strangely troubled with dreams, it passes 
 
 Cis. And so have I been too ; and thought several 
 times to tell you of a strange thing in our house, but 
 that I was afraid you would laugh at me. 
 F 
 
^^2 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Bea. But tell me ! What was 't 1 
 
 Cis. Why, last New- Year's Eve, when all the house 
 were in bed, I swept up the hearth, and smooth'd the 
 ashes, and next morning found the print of a wed- 
 ding ring and a grave upon them. I am confident we 
 shall have a wedding and a burial out of our house 
 this year — my old master die, and my young mistress 
 married ! 
 
 Bea. Away, fool ! If I marry, I promise you it shall 
 not be Tyro ! 'Tis such a piece of ginger bread ! 
 
 Cis. Marry hang him ! 'Tis all the news that he 
 hir'd a couple of fellows to murder Mr. Afterwit ; but 
 he has paid 'um to the purpose. And they say the 
 quarrel was about you ! 
 
 Bea. Then in short time I shall be town talk, and 
 work for knights adventurers. I should be sorry he 
 were hurt — I would. But come 1 I long to hear what 
 this fellow will tell me ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Act v. — Scene l 
 Enter Mopus, Jolly, and Afterwit. 
 
 Jol. Make haste ! I left 'um coming. — [The hell 
 .] — Here they are ! 
 
 Mop. Then do you step into the next room— po 
 Afterwit] — and when you hear me cry ' Jubeo,' take 
 the small stool in your hand, and come in ; stand 
 upon it behind her chair, and look upon the glass ; 
 and be sure, when you have done, to take the stool 
 along with you ! 
 
 Jol. I must be gone ; I have appointed Eunter. 
 Have you prepared the Alderman's dose '? 
 
 Mop. 'Tis here ! — [He shows a small vial.] — And as 
 soon as I have despatch'd you, I am resolv'd to visit 
 him, and give him half a score drops of it in somewhat 
 or other; but so qualifi'd, it shall not only distemper 
 him, but do him no further hurt. A glass of stomach 
 
THE CHEATS. 83 
 
 water will fetch him again while you say What's 
 
 this? 
 
 Enter BoY. 
 
 Boy. Sir, there is a gentlewoman or two at door 
 desire to speak with you. 
 
 Mop. Desire them to walk in ! Here, here 1 this 
 way 1 and you there ! 
 
 [Exeunt Jolly, Apterwit, and Boy severalhj. 
 So ; if this take, I shall save my credit, and get good 
 money to boot ! 
 
 Enter Beatrice and Cis. 
 
 Madam ! your servant ! What service have you for 
 mel 
 
 Bea. I have heard my mother so talk of you, I 
 could not be quiet till I came to you too. 
 
 Mop. I am not wont to make my art common. 
 But do you propose what you will, and I'll do my 
 best to resolve you. 
 
 Bea. Then, truly, sir, I have been extremely troubled 
 with dreams, and would fain know what they mean. 
 
 Mop. And shall, madam, if art can do 't. Dreams 
 are certain motions or fictions of the soul, signifying 
 some good or evil to come ; wherein, notwithstanding, 
 we chiefly regard how the moon stands afi'ected. 
 What were yours 1 
 
 Bea. Methought my father was chosen Lord Mayor, 
 and that Cis and I were pounding spices, to make an 
 entertainment, and at last, methought, we fell together 
 by the ears in our smock-sleeves. 
 
 Mop. For the first, 'twas an ill sign — a sign of your 
 father's death. For death is like the Mayor of the 
 town within his o^vn corporation — subject to none, 
 and has no companions. Then, as to your pounding 
 of spices, that betokens matrimony; for the pestle 
 represents the man, and the mortar the woman. 
 Lastly, as to your fighting, infallibly the same ; and 
 that the rather the persons being stript, as you say 
 they were. Have you more ? 
 
84 
 
 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Bea. Yes, sir. Methought I was married to a man 
 with a great jolt-head. 
 
 Mop. A sign of dignity. If there had been a 
 brazen face to 't, the better, for 'tis the first step 
 to't. 
 
 Bea. There were divers others, but I have forgot 
 'em. Pray be pleas'd to give me some general hints, 
 that I may the better observe 'um for the future ! 
 
 Mop. Anything, good madam, to serve you. To 
 dream of loss of eyes betokens help, for most men 
 help the blind. If but one eye, but half what was 
 expected. For a married woman to dream of behead- 
 ing, loss of her husband ; to a maid, loss of her 
 maidenhead. Of leeks and cheese, that she shall 
 marry a Welshman. Of hanging, matrimony ; for 
 they both go by one destiny. 
 
 Bea. Pretty, indeed. Pray, sir, some more ! 
 
 Mop. To dream of loss of fingers betokens want of 
 employment, to a lawyer. Of broken pates, good 
 luck, to chirurgeons. Of cutting high capers, hang- 
 ing, to a thief Of a midwife, revealing of secrets. 
 Of grasshoppers and crickets, more words than 
 performance. Of a post and pillars, a Mayor and 
 Alderman. Of a calf's head and pertinents, a fore- 
 man and his fellows. Of being abed with a handsome 
 lady, ill luck, because 'tis not true. Of having a 
 true friend 
 
 Bea. Ay ! what sign's that % 
 
 Mop. A sign he's mistaken. 
 Good madam, your hand ! 
 
 Bea. Here ! And pray, cell me my fortune. 
 
 Mop. I cannot make it better or worse ; but such as 
 it is, you shall know presently. — [He pores on her 
 hand.] — A fair table — the line of riches well extended 
 — very large wheels of fortune. You will be a good 
 housekeeper, rich, and fortunate. These lines 
 betoken husbands. You will have, let me see, if 
 your first husband dies before the mark's out of your 
 mouth, a second ; and then, perhaps, a third. These 
 interferings, children ; — you will have — some half a 
 
 But enough of this ! 
 
THE CHEATS. 85 
 
 dozen, more or less. Yet once again — pray, let me 
 see how your hand agrees with my globe ! 
 
 [He steps to the table and turns his book and globe. 
 
 Bea. What think'st thou of him, Cis 1 
 
 Cis. No doubt but it is all true. They say he can 
 show one's sweetheart's face in a glass. Good madam, 
 remember to try him ! 
 
 Mop. You shall have a husband in a very short 
 time. As to his person, he is, etc. — [He describes 
 Afterwit.] — He has some incumbrances upon his 
 estate at present, but shall recover them all, and be 
 very happy, fortunate, and honourable. 
 
 Bea. But does he love me '? 
 
 Mop. I am sure he does. And mthout him, you'll 
 be very unhappy. He is a most excellent person. 
 He receives his knowledge from Mercury in Virgo. 
 His completeness of body from Caput Draconis in 
 Gemini. Saturn and Venus, in Libra, direct him to 
 the light of nature. Fortuna major and Populus, 
 figures of geomancy, give him health, and Puella 
 befriends him. Mars, in Cancer, is his enemy ; 
 Jupiter, in Capricorn, somewhat uncertain ; and two 
 ideas, of geomancy conspire against him. But he 
 shall receive treasures from the sun and jewels from 
 the moon ; and his guardian angel shall defend him, 
 and make the spiteful dragon bite his tail in Sagitarius, 
 because he cannot be reveng'd of him. 
 
 Bea. But is 't not possible to see this excellent 
 person 1 
 
 Mop. 'Tis a thing I rarely do — I seldom practise 
 beyond the stars ; but if you'll promise me to sit quiet, 
 and not talk it abroad, I will, for once, show you the 
 height of art. 
 
 Bea. Well, sir, I promise. But pray, no noise ! 
 
 Mop. No ; he shall rise with music. Boy 1 
 
 Enter Boy. 
 
 My glass, and the enchanted chair ! 
 
 [Exit Boy. Mopus draws a circle. 
 Bea. Oh, good sir, have a care 1 
 
86 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Mojp. Be still ! The spirit knows my meaning, and 
 I dare not baulk him. Fear not ; you are as safe as 
 if you were in your father's house. 
 
 Enter Boy, with a glass and a groaning chair. 
 
 Here, madam, sit down ; and you, sweetheart, at 
 your mistress's feet. Sirrah ! — \IIe speaks aside to the 
 Boy.] — -Take your lute, and when you see the gentle- 
 man preparing to come in, play a lesson or two. — 
 [Exit Boy.] — Now, madam, sit still, and fear nothing ! 
 [He takes his hook, waves his rod, and reads. 
 
 "MAZOL TOB. 
 
 "Bombomachides Cluninstaridysarchides, qui prsepo- 
 situs es Utopise, et terram incognitam solus delineasti 
 - — Oonjuro, et confirmo te, et super te, nihilum 
 potens ! per nomen stellse, quge est sine nomine — 
 per solstitium solis, et lunse dodecatimarion ; per 
 Tiberii spintrium, et Claudii apocolocyntheosin ; per 
 cingulum Veneris, et garragantue ravpov ; per 
 alpha, beta, gamma, delta, coj)h, resch, schin, 
 tau — per omnia predicta, et alia ubicunque quae 
 nunquam fuerunt, nee usquam futura sunt. Conjuro 
 super te Bombomachides (occulta qualitas, et tamen 
 magne) quod relictis agris Gurgustidoniis, et Gog- 
 magogorum antiquissima sede, in instanti venias, pro 
 me labores, et perimpleas omnem petitionem hujus 
 dominse, juxta velle, et votum suum. Yeni ! Veni ! 
 Veni ! Per omnia predicta — jubeo — veni !" 
 
 [The lute plays. Enter Aeterwit ; looks over her chair, 
 as directed, and after a little time exit. Beatrice 
 and Cis rise, and look behind the chair. 
 
 Now, madam, you have seen the ne plus ultra of art ! 
 And if I might advise you, I would have you comply 
 with your destiny ; without it, you will be miserable. 
 
 Bea. And perhaps with it. Do you know the 
 gentleman ? 
 
 Mop. I never saw him in my life till now ; but as I 
 beheld him in the glass, methought he had a pro- 
 
THE CHEATS. 87 
 
 mising aspect, and agreed in everything with what 
 I have told you. Do you know the face 1 
 
 Bea. Yes. And if my father were consenting to 't, 
 it should be the first thing I would. 
 
 Mop. I can but wish you well. Yet one thing I'll 
 do — 'tis yet in my power. If you have no mind to 
 him, avoid seeing him before you have slept ; and let 
 me know it before sunrising to-morrow, and I may 
 prevent it. If otherwise, 'tis past the art of man. 
 
 Bea. I thank you, sir ! — [She gives him money.] — ! 
 Cis, what shall I do ? Is there no back way 1 If I 
 can but miss him now, I'm well enough ! 
 
 Cis. Have a good heart, madam ! What must be 
 will be. 
 
 Mop. You had best let my boy conduct you. Boy ! 
 
 Enter Boy. 
 
 You know the back way to the Alderman's 1 Show it 
 this lady, and wait on her as far as she pleases to 
 command you. [Exeunt Beatrice, Cis, and Boy. 
 
 Your servant ! So, so ! things go as they should ! 
 Where are you, sir 1 
 
 Enter Afterwit. 
 
 Your work's as good as done. She's gone the back 
 way ; you will easily get before her upon the turn of 
 the street. Now's your opportunity ! Make haste 
 and meet her, and she can't refuse you. 
 
 Aft. 'Twas well contrived ! Your servant ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Enter Bilboe and Mrs. Double Diligence. 
 
 Bit. I thought what you were ! Is this your going 
 to Eepetition ^ I'll tell my landlord ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Indeed I could not help it — I could never 
 be rid of him ! But I am sure I always loved you 
 best. I hope you will not undo a woman ! 
 
88 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Bil. Nay, nay ! that's notlimg to me. I am \ 
 
 resolv'd, unless you engage to do one thing. 
 
 Mrs. D. Anything, good Mr. Bilboe, that I can. 
 What is 't ? 
 
 Bil. When will the Alderman be here 1 
 
 Mrs. D. At night, after the watch is set. What 
 then? 
 
 Bil. Why, you must join with me to trepan him. 
 It may be worth us £1000 ! 
 
 Mrs. D. 'Tis impossible ! No one will believe him 
 to be such a man. 
 
 Bil. They'll never know it. He'll be hang'd ere 
 he'll let the business come upon the stage. 
 
 Mrs. D. I'll never yield to it ! You shall have what 
 money you will ! 
 
 Bil. Hang money ! — fly brass ! — the devil's a tinker ! 
 
 Enter Double Diligence. 
 
 Honest landlord ! I see you are for the watch. 
 Twenty to one but I beat up your quarters. I'll make 
 you run, i'faith ! 
 
 D. D. Yes — after you, Major ; I have done it forty 
 times ! 
 
 Bil. Why, how now, . man 1 melancholy ? Thou 
 lookest as if thy head were full of accounts ! 
 
 D. D. And, truly, you are right. I was just consider- 
 ing how to patch up my account with Mr. Alderman. 
 Indeed he ties me to hard meat. I cannot take a rat 
 but he makes me account to him for half profits ; and 
 yet I allow him as good as £40 a year for the keep- 
 ing of one poor gate. Would I were once overseer of 
 the poor, or churchwarden — there were somewhat to 
 be got by that ! I'm sure this will hardly keep life 
 and soul together. 
 
 Bil. Hang care ! I'll tell thee what — thou hast 
 the honestest woman to thy wife this day in the 
 parish. Poor soul, how she's been plagued by this 
 Alderman ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Nay, Major ! what d'you mean 1 — \Slie 
 pulls him hy the elbow.] — You won't, I hope, Major ! 
 
THE CHEATS. 89 
 
 Bil She was ashamed to tell you herself, and would 
 not be quiet till I had promised to do it. This old 
 goat is perpetually soliciting her — would one think 
 it 1 Troth, I should have guest him fuller of Mercury 
 than Venus ; but a man may be deceived. 
 
 D. D. How ! The Alderman 1 See what 'tis to 
 have an honest woman to one's wife. I warrant you, 
 had she been right, as they say, she had never discover'd 
 it. Now, my dear chick, how I love thee ! 
 
 Bil. Leave your slobbering, and consider what to 
 do. My advice is, that we trepan him ; the thief is 
 rich, and will bleed well. 
 
 D. D. That would be somewhat ! But how is 't 
 to be done ? 
 
 Bil. He will be here by that time the watch is set. 
 The Captain and I will do 't. 
 
 D. D. If we could get a good round sum between 
 us, 'twould do no hurt. You may compound with the 
 Captain for a small matter. 
 
 Bil. Let me alone with him ! He's hard at hand ! 
 I'll fetch him ! Don't you be out of the way ! 
 
 [Exit BiLBOE. 
 
 D. D. Indeed, wife, this is a providence, and may 
 do us good 1 Grant we may make a right use of 't. 
 
 Enter Whitebroth. 
 
 JVli. Not gone yet ! I must rattle '" him. 
 
 [Aside to himself. 
 
 D. D. Save your good worship, sir ! 
 
 WTi. Alas, Mr. Double Diligence, that you should 
 be thus negligent of the peace of the kingdom ! 
 Don't you know there are a number of dangerous 
 people abroad, and your watch not set yet 1 Now, 
 truly, but you are to blame ; and I could find in my 
 heart to have you complain'd of 
 
 D. D. I was just going — your worship sees I am 
 ready ! 
 
 JVh. Pray keep your watch together, and walk your 
 round in person — you cannot be too secure. Here ! 
 
 * Thrash. 
 
90 
 
 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Here's somewhat for your watch to drink. I have 
 given 'em nothing a great while. 
 
 D. D. 'Tis a fourpence-halfpenny, sir. Will your 
 worship be pleased to have the odd halfpenny again 1 
 
 JVh. No, no ! No matter ! — let it go for a crust. 
 
 D. D. We thank your worship. 
 
 [Exit Double Diligence. 
 
 JVh. I just met my doctor, and he has given me the 
 rarest cordial — methinks I am so flippant ! Now, my 
 little mouse ! How do you ? Shall we walk in 1 
 
 Mrs. D. Indeed, sir, I am somewhat ill. 
 
 [He calls her. 
 
 Wh. Prithee leave these excuses ! Thou knowest I 
 love thee. [Bilboe and Titere tu peep in. 
 
 Bil. See, Captain ! see ! 
 
 T. T. Ah ! the old rogue ! 
 
 Wh. Come, come ! — you must ! I've had no rent 
 a good while ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Indeed, sir, we've a hard bargain of 't. I 
 hope your worship will consider us against next 
 quarter. 
 
 Wh. Why — you pay me no money ! You know 
 I take it out, as they say. 
 
 Mrs. D. Ay, but Mr. Scruple's very hard upon my 
 husband, and won't believe but he has a double lease. 
 
 Wh. I'll order that hereafter. Prithee come ! — 
 the cuckold is secure. Good faith, you shall ! 
 
 Mrs. D. I cannot — nor will I ! Pray unhand me ! 
 
 [They struggle. 
 
 Enter Bilboe and Titere Tu, with their swords drawn. 
 
 Bil. How's this *? My landlady ! Cuckold my 
 honest landlord ! Kill him ! kill him ! 
 
 [They both lay at him, with the flat of their swords. 
 Wh. Good gentlemen ! spare my life ! Oh — oh ! 
 T. T. Hold ! hold !— better geld him ! 
 Bil. Agreed ! agreed ! 
 
 [Mrs. Double Diligence runs in. 
 Wli. Oh ! good gentlemen, 'twill break my wife's 
 heart ! Good gentlemen, I am an Alderman ! 
 
THE CHEATS. 91 
 
 Bil Thou an Alderman'? I'll undertake lie stole^ 
 this chain ! Gi' me 't ! — [BiLBOE takes it off aiid loocketb' 
 it]—TYL find out the truth. 
 
 T. T. Come, brother ! — Uncase ! uncase ! 
 \Tliey strip Mm to his canvas doublet and satin skirts. 
 
 Enter Double Diligence. 
 
 D. D. I had forgot my night-cap ! How now ? 
 what's here 1 Stand ! I require you, in their 
 majesties' name, to keep the peace ! Stand ! "V\^at 
 are you 1 Thieves ! thieves ! Down with 'em, Mr. 
 Alderman ! Alas, good sir, what makes your worship 
 in this condition ? 
 
 Bil. Landlord, I am confident this is no Alderman. 
 The rogue has serv'd my landlady ! — A man would not 
 serve a dog so ! 
 
 . D. D. How 1 Stick a bull's feather in my cap ! — 
 make me a knight o' the forked order ! Is this true, 
 Mr. Alderman % is this true 1 
 
 Wli. Failings, brother Diligence, faihngs ! Pray, let 
 the business be ended between ourselves., and I will 
 patiently submit to a church rebuke. 
 
 D.^ D. One good action is worth two rebukes and 
 three chastisements. Pray, gentlemen, keep him here 
 till I fetch the watch. I will have it recorded, to my 
 own honour, the example of all succeeding Constables, 
 and terror of Justices — that a Constable once in his 
 time laid a Justice of peace by the heels. I'll be with 
 you instantly . 
 
 [He offers to go out, Whitebroth stojjs him. 
 
 Wli. Good neighbour, this will be as great a 
 scandal to our fellowship as that abomination of the 
 elder's maid in Bell Yard. 
 
 Bil. Hold, landlord ! Is he an Alderman in earnest ? 
 
 D. D. Yes — yes ! But I'll Alderman him ! 
 
 [BiLBOE holds him.. 
 
 Bil. By no means ! — Stay ! The old gentleman 
 may take cold — pray, sir, put on your clothes ! 
 'Twas well I asked the question — I would not have 
 it go further for five thousand pounds. An Alderman ! 
 
92 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Wh. Thank you, good sir! Pray take up the 
 "business. 
 
 Bil. Come, landlord ! Hang 't — 'tis done, and can't 
 be help'd. He shall give you a thousand pounds. 
 
 D. D. A thousand pounds 1 — Out upon 't ! 
 
 Wh. A thousand pounds, sir ! Alas, I thought ten 
 pounds or so ! 
 
 Bil. Howl — ten pounds ! Send we make him accept 
 a thousand pounds ! 'Tis a foul business — the more 
 you stir, the worse 'twill be. Will you refer 't me 1 
 I hope to deserve a hundred pounds of you myself. 
 
 JFh. What you will ; but pray beat it as low as you 
 can. 
 
 Bil. Come, landlord ! what say you ? The gentle- 
 man's willing to give yOu a thousand pounds. 
 
 Wh. Oh ! undone ! — I'm a poor man ! 
 
 D. D. Tell me of a thousand pounds % 
 
 T. T. Nay, now, Mr. Constable, you're unreason- 
 able. 
 
 D. D. Well, then, let him throw in the lease of my 
 house too, and for your sake, Major, I'll do 't. 
 
 Bil. He shall — he shall ! Burn it, 'tis but an old 
 house — giv't him. Troth, I was afraid we should not 
 have got him so low. You heard what he said — 'twas 
 for my sake, too. I hope you'll consider it. 
 
 Wh. Well, if it must be so, no more words of 't. 
 I'll send you a thousand pounds to-morrow, and convey 
 over the house when you please. Oh — oh ! — an 
 undone man 1 
 
 Bil. In the meantime, a bond, as you use to say, 
 for mortality's sake, would do no hurt. 
 
 Wh. What you will — I must obey. 
 
 Bil: Be not troubled. The flesh was good flesh, 
 and worth the money. 
 
 Wh. But the sauce, though, was devilish dear. 
 
 Bil. Hark you, landlord ! Eun to your neighbour 
 Squeeze, the scrivener, for a couple of blank bonds. 
 Make haste ! And when the work's done we'll drink 
 abundantly, and remember the founder. 
 
 D. D. Truly, I like it well — exceedingly well. It 
 
THE CHEATS. 93 
 
 is good to be thankful. Pray, take the Alderman in, 
 and I'll be with you instantly. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 Enter Afterwit, Beatrice, and Cis. 
 
 Aft. Now, you see, madam, to how little purpose 
 we cross our stars. 
 
 Bea. Had you but miss'd me now, 
 I should have ventur'd that, and perhaps stav'd 
 That misery which always follows rashness. 
 
 Aft. Trust me ! I warrant you, things will go right. 
 Now for a small hedge-priest to make the knot ; 
 Well tie it faster as we've better leisure. 
 
 Enter Kunter and Jolly. 
 
 Keep back a little — I would not have them see us 
 yet. [Exeunt Afterwit and Beatrice. 
 
 Bu. Indeed I won't! You have been large to me 
 already. [Jolly would press money upon him. 
 
 You must excuse me. 
 
 Jol. Upon one condition I may. 
 
 Ru. What's that, good sir ? 
 
 Jol. That you will give me leave to put it in the 
 diurnal. 
 
 Ru. I must confess, I should be loth to be the 
 author of so ill a precedent. But if I should take it, 
 how shall I be able to serve your friend % 
 
 Jol. I have told you. 
 
 Ru. Hah ! But such an opportunity will never 
 happen. 
 
 Jol. I am certainly inform'd he is now upon 't. For 
 being taken very ill of a sudden, he has resolved to 
 publish that draught which you made for him, and 
 has lain in your hands ever since his last sickness. 
 Now, instead of that, let him seal and deliver this 
 settlement upon my friend, in consideration of 
 marriage with his daughter, and the work's done. 
 
94 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Besides, if he should discover it, I have him so sure 
 upon other accounts he dares not mutter. 
 
 [EuNTER ^peruses the deed. 
 
 Bu. You are a notable gentleman. You have done 
 extreme prudently in leaving a blank for the first 
 words, " This indenture," etc., and that the parchment is 
 plain at top. I will fill it up with ^'In nomine domini," 
 for fear some one should look over my shoulder while 
 it is doing ; when once 'tis over 'tis easy indenting it, 
 and scraping out "/«■ nomine domini," and instead 
 thereof puting in, " This indenture made," etc. Trust 
 me with it. 
 
 Jol. Shall my friend depend upon you 1 
 
 Bu. D'you think me a knave ^ A word's enough. 
 Yet, if you would be rul'd by me, I would advise you 
 to engage Mr. Scruple in the business ; he will be able 
 to do much in 't. 
 
 Jol. Will a parsonage of £300 a year do 't 1 If it 
 will, my friend has such a one newly fall'n, and giv'n 
 me order, as I see occasion, to present it him. But 
 do you think he \vill conform 1 
 
 Bu. I warrant you he does both. Leave it to me 
 to make him. I must confess he has been somewhat 
 violent heretofore ; but of late I can assure you very 
 instrumental. 
 
 Enter Scruple. 
 
 Here he comes. Pray, leave us not ; there will be 
 little said but what you may be privy to. Save you, 
 Mr. Scruple. 
 
 Sc. And your worship too. I have been looking 
 you everywhere. Mr. Alderman presents you with 
 that health he wants himself, and desires you to come 
 to him, and bring with you that draught of his will 
 which was engross'd when he was last sick. I left that 
 learned artist Dr. Mopus with liim, who shakes his 
 head, and wonders at this sudden alteration. He 
 says they drank a glass of ale together but few hours 
 before ; but, truly, now he doubts him. 
 
 Bu. Why ! what's the matter 1 
 
THE CHEATS. 95 
 
 Sc. The doctor had a hard word for 't, but I have 
 quite forgot it. He is taken with a strange scouring 
 and vomiting — the doctor knows not what to make of 
 him — death's in's face. 
 
 EiL Alas, poor gentleman ! I'll wait on him imme- 
 diately. That things should fall so cross ! His 
 daughter is just married. 
 
 Sc. How ! married 1 I am sure he knows nothing 
 of it, for his intention of sending for you was, that 
 he might so dispose his estate that the Court of Alder- 
 men might not have the fingering of it. 
 
 Bu. It can't be helpt — 'tis done. But hark you ! 
 'tis to a worthy gentleman, and one that has so great 
 an esteem for you, that having a parsonage of £300 a 
 year in his gift, and now void, he is resolved to dis- 
 pose it to no one till you have refused it. 
 
 Jol. This is true, I can assure you, sir ; and by me 
 has made the offer to this gentleman in your behalf, 
 who, I think, knows me too well to doubt the truth 
 oft. 
 
 Eu. Indeed I do. I'll take care your presentation 
 shall be dispatched out of hand. But — you must 
 conform, and sign with the cross. 
 
 Sc: Well — well ! The sign of the Cross or the sign 
 of the Blue Boar shall break no squares. £300 a 
 year ! I do assure you, a worthy gentleman ! 
 
 Enter Ajfterwit, Beatrice, and Cis. 
 
 Jol. He comes himself, and his fair bride. Madam ! 
 ^AUjoy! 
 
 Bea. Of what "? Will you persuade me into 't 1 
 
 Sc. Indeed, Mrs. Beatrice, give you much joy. In 
 truth, a very worthy gentleman. I am sorry it was 
 not my good fortune to have yok'd you together. 
 
 Aft. Perhaps it may not be too late yet. You 
 know wise men always marry their daughters both 
 ways. It is not impossible but that Mr. Alderman 
 and myself may be made friends — his daughter is still 
 ,^live. How says my dear 'i 
 
 Bea. Nay, pish ! You're such a man ! 
 
96 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Aft I shall be glad, sir, to be better known to you, 
 and hope my friend has made you a small present 
 from me. Had it been better, your worth deserves 
 it. 
 
 Sc. Alas ! sweet sir ! I thank your love — I have 
 accepted that already. You are an obliging person. 
 
 Ru. Come, madam ! you're melancholy ! Be cheery ! 
 All will do well. Mr. Scruple, a word — I think it 
 were not amiss if you went before, and let him know 
 I am coming. 
 
 Sc. With all my heart. Have you anything further 
 wherein I may serve this worthy person and his 
 lady? 
 
 Ru. Why, truly, yes. You will do well to keep 
 him in the same mind of making his will. Since the 
 young couple are together, and 'tis too late now to 
 part them, we must do something to secure them an 
 estate. 
 
 Sc. You say well ; and I will join with you in any- 
 thing, provided always you carry it prudently, for fear 
 of scandal. A blot is no blot till it be hit.* 
 
 Ru. You must have a care that no one be in the 
 room but ourselves — not so much as his wife. 
 
 Sc. By no means. If they should, I will cause 'em to 
 withdraw, upon pretence of giving him some ghostly 
 counsel, or the like. Farewell ! You'll find me there. 
 
 Ru. Not a word ! Make haste, and be sure to 
 break the marriage to the good woman before the 
 Alderman comes to know it. Watch your time ! 
 
 Sc. I warrant you ! [Exit Scruple. 
 
 Ru. Madam, your father has sent for me, and I must 
 leave you for the present ; but you shall be sure to 
 hear from me suddenly. In the meantime, if you 
 please to repose yourselves at my house, you shall be 
 welcome. You cannot be safer nor nearer if any 
 occasion should be. 
 
 Omnes. With all our hearts ! [Exeunt 
 
 * Eef erring to a movement in the game of backgammon. 
 
the cheats. 97 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 Enter Scruple, discoursing to himself. 
 
 Sc. Three hundred pounds a year, and conform t A 
 fair opportunity ; and if I slip it, may I never have 
 another ! But hark you, Mr. Scruple, you must sub- 
 scribe ! Well, and I will do 't 1 But what will the 
 brethren say ? How will the sisters take it, when it 
 shall be told 'um, Vir gregis ipse caper cle erraveratf 
 Why, 'twas an act of my hand, not an act of my 
 heart ! But stay ! — what needs this ] Has not the 
 direction of the intention a faculty to null promises ] 
 I take it it has. What say the Casuists ? If a man 
 promises, and had no intention to perform when he 
 made it, he is not oblig'd, unless there be an oath or 
 contract in the case ; for, when a man says simply I 
 will do thus or thus, it shall be conceived he meant 
 if his mind did not alter, for otherwise were to de- 
 prive him of his natural Kberty. But there is an oath 
 in the case, friend Scruple, there is an oath I How 
 will you do, now 1 Well, suppose there be two ! I 
 take it the case has been determin'd long since. I 
 may take it pro forma, by a pre\dous protestation, 
 nevertheless that it shall not be prejudicial to me in 
 anything that I shall act to the contrary hereafter. 
 If not, our brethren are clear in the point. Equivo- 
 cation, in cases of necessity, may be lawful. 'Tis a 
 pki fraus ! I'm sure, at worst, it is a probable opi- 
 nion ; and all probable opinions are equally safe in 
 themselves. But hold ye, brother ! Are not oaths 
 to be taken according to the meaning of the exactor 
 of the oath 1 Perhaps they are. AVhat then ? Sup- 
 pose I bring a probable opinion for the meaning of 
 the taker. The extremes are wide ; but I have found 
 an expedient, — and yet not mine, but our brethren's 
 still. The swearer is not bound to the meaning of 
 the prescriber of the oath, or his own meaning. How, 
 then 1 Sweetly I — to the reality of the thing sworn. 
 G 
 
98 
 
 THE CHEATS. 
 
 I think the hair is split ! But who shall be judge of 
 that 1 Of that hereafter. In the mean time, here is 
 £300 a year, and a goodly house upon 't ! I will 
 conform, reform, transform, perform, deform, inform, 
 any form ! Form — form — 'tis but one syllable, and 
 may be swallowed ! 
 
 Unter Mrs. Whitebroth and Mrs. Mopus. 
 
 Mrs. JVh. Now, bless the good man ! what's that 
 he says % Form — form ! Marry, I hope you don't 
 intend to conform ? 
 
 Sc. Form is a good word — a very good word ! 
 Forma dat esse rei I And without it, sister of mine, 
 you could be neither seen, felt, heard, nor under- 
 stood ! 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Now, goodness defend him! — In the 
 highway to Egypt again ! 
 
 Sc. Mistake me not ; I am neither for highways nor 
 high places ! But- 
 
 Mrs. }Vh. But what 1 I hope you are not in earnest. 
 Will you forsake the good old cause % 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Mr. Scruple spew up the Holy Covenants 
 
 >S'c. It forsook me, not I it. 
 
 Mrs. JVh. What will the vile cavalier say 1 
 
 Mrs. Mop. How will the despisers of the brethren 
 bristle ? 
 
 Mrs. TVh. How will the old enemy erect himseK? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. And the holy sisters be humbled 1 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Who shall carry on the great work ? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Or perfect that which you have begun ? 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Mr. Scruple transmogrify ? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Ah, no ! [Both of thera — Hui ! 
 
 Sc. You say right ; you are my workmanship ! I 
 have been working you these twenty years, and you 
 are wrought ! But alas 1 — I speak not this to you — 
 there are a number of dissenting brethren, and I have 
 tried 'em this way and that way and t'other way, and, 
 to say truth, every way, but never the nearer; and 
 therefore I'm ev'n resolv'd to try what the old way 
 will do. 
 
THE CHEATS. 99 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Ah, Mr. Scruple, do you know what you 
 say % The old way ! 
 
 Mrs. Mop. The old Avhore ! [Both — Hui ! 
 
 Sc. Yes ; the old way, though no old whore ! 
 Wherein, notwithstanding, I do no more than what- 
 ever was, is now, and ever will be. Mark what I say, 
 and observe it. Our brother Fox, that had so Httle 
 wit as to write his Booh of Martyrs, had yet enough 
 to keep himself from being one of the number ! 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Ah ! what will become of the flock ? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. And the httle lambs — how shall they 
 play? 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Who shall destroy the chickens of the 
 wolf? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. And break the leviathan's eggs i' the 
 shell ? 
 
 Sc. Come, sisters of mine, you live on the bUnd side 
 of the world ! I find the cause and its interest de- 
 serted by most people, unless it be some few that, 
 having found how sweet a thing it is to head a faction, 
 make use of us, as the monkey did of the cat's paw, to 
 scrape the nuts out of the fire ! I need say no more, 
 unless it be that I have a fair opportunity of £300 a 
 year offer'd me. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Ay, do — do ! and see who'll repent it first. 
 Never expect more Friday night suppers ! 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Nor the sweet society of brethren and 
 sisters ! 
 
 Mrs. Wh. What fellowship is there in stockfish and 
 oil? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Or, instead of jellies, to be swill' d with 
 frummetry ?* 
 
 Mrs. Wh. To exchange your venison for red her- 
 rings and mustard ? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. And virgin pullets for ling and haber- 
 dine ?t [Scruple slmhes his head, and sighs — Huh ! 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Who will be gainers now ? 
 
 * Hulled wheat boiled in milk, and seasoned with cinnamon 
 and sugar, 
 t Salted cod. 
 
100 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Or whose the loss when this happens ? 
 
 3frs. Wli. When the benevolence shall dwindle to 
 an Easter penny ? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. And purifying dinners into crack'd 
 groats ? 
 
 Mrs. Wli. "When you're at charge of a gown for 
 Sundays and holidays 1 
 
 Mrs. Mop. And the cassock comes out of your own 
 pocket ? 
 
 Mrs. JFh. \Mien the boys cry after you it grows 
 too fast ? 
 
 Mrs. Mop. And the knot of your surcingle sits in the 
 wrong place ? [Again, hut louder — Huh — hu ! 
 
 Mrs. JFh. And will you, then, leaA^e us 1 Let not 
 £300 a year be anything in the case ; we will allow 
 you four ! Pray consider ! Did we ever forsake you ? 
 What did you lose by your last imprisonment "?* 
 
 Sc. Now cannot I forbear, but I must accept your 
 £400 a year. Let a man strive never so much against 
 it, natural affection will return upon him. Comfort 
 yourselves — that is to say, be comforted ; I will not 
 forsake you ! Conchmim est contra, etc. I will not 
 conform ; nay, verily, I will not ! 
 
 Mrs. JFh. Ah, Mr. Scruple ! 
 
 [They both hang on Mm. Cough within. 
 
 Sc. Hark I I hear the Alderman ! Eun in — run in ! 
 I'll follow you instantly ! 
 
 [Exeunt Mrs. Whitebroth and Mrs. Mopus. 
 So, now 'tis £400 a year, and not conform ! The 
 women are good comfortable women, and I ought not 
 in conscience to leave 'em. But hear me, brother ! 
 what will you do with your new parsonage 1 Why, I 
 will get some or other instituted and inducted into 't, 
 to save a lapse, and take a bond of £500 of him to 
 resign at six months ; which he ^vill forfeit, of course, 
 as not doubting but to be reliev'd against it as 
 
 * Instead of this last inquiry, tlie first, second, and third 
 editions have : ' What have you lost by throwing youi'self on 
 yoiir friends? If the worst come to the worst, we will forsake 
 our carnal husbands and carnal children, and march off to New 
 England together. ' 
 
THE CHEATS. 101 
 
 simoniacal. So, there's £500 got too ! He's gone 
 every way — at common law, 'tis his own bond; in 
 equity, he might have resign' d. But why so fast, 
 friend Scruple ? Had not you as good sell it outright 
 to avoid dispute ? I cannot tell. But now, I remem- 
 ber me, the Casuists take a notable difference — that 
 is to say, between money given {pro valore henefidi) as 
 the full price, and {tanquam motivum ad resignandum) 
 for your good will or so. The first, they generally 
 agree to be simony ; but for the latter, they leave it 
 as a controverted point, positively denied by very few 
 but such as have money to give. 
 
 Enter Whitebroth led hy Mopijs and Timothy. 
 Whitebroth coughs. 
 
 Alas, good sir, how does your worship ? Pray, sir, 
 how do you like him '? 
 
 Mop. Troth, but ill ; I'm half afraid of him ! 
 
 Wh. Who's that? Mr. Scruple ? 
 
 Sc. Yes, sir. How do you ? 
 
 Wh. Uh — uh — very ill ! Is the Doctor coming ? 
 
 Sc. He'll be here immediately. Poor man ! he was 
 half distracted when I brought him the news. 
 
 Enter Eunter. 
 
 He's come ! How he sweats with haste ! 
 
 Ru. My dear friend, how do you 1 
 
 Wh. Oh, oh!— ill, ill !— uh, uh, uh ! Have you 
 brought my old will with you ? Let me see 't ! Uh 
 — ^uh — uh ! 
 
 Ru. Yes, sir ; here 'tis ! 
 
 [Eunter gives it Whitebroth ; he peruses it. 
 
 Sc. Indeed, sir, 'tis piously and discreetly done to 
 settle affairs, so that there may be no wrangling in 
 case you should do otherwise than well. 
 
 Mop. I wonder my boy comes not. I have sent 
 him for a rosicrucian preparation has fetcht a man 
 again after he has been dead a day and half ! I hope 
 it may do good. However, for fear of the worst, you 
 do well to settle your estate ; it may ease your head. 
 
102 
 
 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Wh. Uh — uh — iih ! Here, Doctor, put some wax 
 to 't ! Set tlie table nearer, and give me my seal ! 
 
 [EuNTER, in ^putting on the wax, puts the change upon 
 him ; he signs and seals the false deed, and coughs all the 
 while. 
 
 Ru. Sir, you are weak ! Do you deliver this as 
 your act and deed ? 
 
 }Fh. Yes, I do ! Pray, gentlemen, be witnesses 
 to it ! 
 
 Enter Boy. They tvitness it. 
 
 Mop. Ob, are you come at last 1 Here, sir — 
 here's the most sovereign cordial in all the world ! 
 I was seven years in making one poor pint and a half 
 oft! 
 
 TFh. I thank you, sir. — [He drinks.] — Uh — ^uh ! It 
 warms me strangely ! Uh ! — uh ! 
 
 Mop. Pray, forbear coughing ; you are weak ! How 
 do you feel yourself now 1 
 
 Wh. I cannot tell ; but methinks it does me good. 
 
 Mop. I see by this sudden operation 'twill do the 
 work ! You were best to walk in, and rest yourself 
 on your couch awhile before the fire ! 
 
 Ru. I must run home a little upon some urgent 
 occasions, but will see you again presently. 
 
 [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Scene v. 
 
 Enter Double Diligence, and his wife, Bilboe, 
 Titere Tu — the men drunk. 
 
 Bil. Why, Captain !— What ! all a mort 1 
 
 T. T. Faith I was contemplating upon the pence. 
 
 Bil. And thou shalt have 'em, boy. See here, my 
 bully ! — [He pulls out Whitebroth's chain.'] — Here's 
 that will fetch 'em. 
 
 Mrs. D. Dear Major, give it me ! 
 
 Bil. Thou shalt have anything, my jo ! Captain, 
 
THE CHEATS. 103 
 
 courage ! we'll be merry to-night, and have a wedding, 
 though 't be but a Westminster one. 
 
 T. T. What you will. 
 
 D. D. Well said, Major. Ah, for a fiddle now ! 
 Odds nigs ! 
 
 Bil. I hate those Puritan oaths. If thou must 
 swear, swear like a man of office ! 
 
 D. D. The old boy still. Now could I caper 
 through the moon ! Hey, toss ! Hang one fiddle, we'll 
 have a whole kennel ! Come, you jade, dance ! 
 
 Mrs. D. Alas, Major ! How pitifully my husband 
 is cut ! He'll be so sick to-morrow morning. 
 
 Bil. Yes, faith ; he has got a rattle as big as a 
 drum. 
 
 D. D. Major ! a word ! Do you think my wife's a 
 whore 1 
 
 Bil. Such another word, and, by all the bones of 
 my back 
 
 D. D. Nay, good Major ! I was once a little jealous, 
 till she told you of the Alderman ; but now, I dare 
 trust her to Lecture by herself. 
 
 Mrs. D. What's that you say to me ? 
 
 Enter Afterwit, Beatrice, Jolly, Eunter, and 
 
 CIS. 
 
 D. D. Stand ! Who comes there 1 Knock 'em 
 down ! What are you ? I am the Constable ! 
 
 Aft. The fellow's mad. 
 
 Mrs. D. No, sir ! He's a little overtaken, as they say. 
 
 D. D. Stand off" ! down with 'em ! Stand ! Treason ! 
 I command you to apprehend one another. 
 
 Jol. Many a good time has this fellow's head been 
 broken to keep the peace whole. Prithee take him 
 away. 
 
 Bil. Landlord, they're friends. 
 
 D. D. Which 1 — where ! Here I could have 'em, 
 and there I could have 'em. — \He fences ivith his staff.] 
 — Mr. Runter 1 I profess I knew you not ! 
 
 Bu. Then ha' done now ! Come, gentlemen, what 
 say you ? The business must be discovered, first or 
 
104 THE CHEATS. 
 
 last, and as good now and perhaps better than another 
 time. 
 
 Aft I like it well, but think it were not amiss to 
 lessen the company. We will not appear all at once. 
 
 Ru. However, let 'em be within call. 
 
 Jol. Pray, gentlemen, keep together ; we shall have 
 occasion to use you presently. 
 
 Bil. You see my arm's in a scarf — much cannot be 
 expected from me. But, for a dead lift, we'll make a 
 shift to change hands. Gi' the word of command 
 there — ^faces about, etc. 
 
 Jol. And hear me. Major! Lend me your chain, and 
 let it be your care to provide some abominable music. 
 We'll bring him to our bow, or run him to death with 
 fiddlers. 
 
 Bil. I warrant you. Here ! — \He gives him the chain. 
 
 Exeunt all hut Jolly, Afterwit, and Beatrice. To 
 them enter Scruple, and Mrs. Whitebroth. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. How'? — married? Oh, my child! my child! 
 
 Sc. You might have believed me sooner. How 
 often have I told you she was in her teens ? and, you 
 know, teen quasi teeming. I may be a little free with 
 you. Young girls are like nuts — you must gather 
 them when they begin to be brown at bottom, or 
 they'll fall of themselves. 
 
 Mrs. JVh. But, truly, I hope it is not so plain as you 
 make it. 
 
 Sc. How think you ? 
 
 [Afterwit and Beatrice come up and kneel. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. Oh, my child ! my child ! Thy father is 
 pretty hoddy again, but this will break his heart quite. 
 Oh, my cliild ! Has he not hurt thee 1 
 
 Enter Whitebroth, Mopus, and Timothy ; after them 
 Mrs. Mopus. 
 
 Aft. No great sign of death, mother. 
 
 Wh. What's all this clutter ? Here's a noise for a 
 sick man, with all my heart ! — [Aeterwit and 
 Beatrice kneel to him.] — How's this ? 
 
THE CHEATS. 105 
 
 Sc. Nothing but matrimony, sir, and conjugal love. 
 
 Wh. And were you pimp to 't ? I hope you have 
 made sure of her portion. I can assure you her 
 grandfather left her not so much as a grey groat. 
 
 Aft. I have enough in her. 
 
 fFh. Much good may 't do you ! 
 
 Bea. Good sir, forgive me ! 
 
 J'FIi. Out of my doors ! The wench is pretty hand- 
 some, and will be able to get her own living if the 
 parish will but keep the children. 
 
 Aft. I must not hear this language. Know you 
 thisi A good honest settlement upon myself — [he 
 shoivs the deed] — and your daughter, in consideration 
 of marriage. 
 
 IFh. Ha ! — settlement ! — and in consideration of 
 marriage ? I was not drunk, sure I When was this 
 done ? 
 
 Aft. Only a little crop sick — very lately. 
 
 Sc. Indeed, sir, you desired this gentleman and 
 myself to be witnesses to it. I know my hand again. 
 
 Mop. I saw you sign, seal, and deliver it. 
 
 fFh. I pubhshed only my will. 
 
 Mop. I know not what your meaning was, but you 
 delivered it as your act and deed. 
 
 fFh. Timothy ! fetch me the Constable 
 
 Jol. Sir, he'll save you that trouble ; I met him just 
 coming to you about a suspicious person, whom he 
 apprehended with this chain in his pocket. — [Re shoivs 
 the chain.] — You cannot imagine whose it should be ? 
 — [Whitebroth makes no anstver, but holds up his 
 hands, and walks. 
 
 Enter full butt upon him Bilboe, Double Diligence, 
 TiTERE Tu, and Mrs. Double Diligence. 
 
 Wh. Cheated ! cheated ! — as I'm an Alderman, 
 purely cheated ! 
 
 Aft. How can that be ? You have the reputation 
 of as shrewd a man as any upon the bench. 
 
 JVh. Ah ! rogues all ! rogues all ! [He walks again. 
 
 Jol. What say you, sir 1 Here's the Constable now. 
 
106 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Come, come ; be wise ! Your daughter has married 
 a gentleman. Is not this better than a Smithfield 
 bargain — give me so much money, and my horse shall 
 leap your mare ? 
 
 Wli. Don't worry me with words ! I'll consider oft. 
 
 Sc. Good sir, marriages are made in heaven. 
 
 IFh. Then I'll be sworn I had ne'er a friend there. 
 
 Cis. Truly, nor I neither ; for indeed, methinks, they 
 are very long in coming down. [Aside. 
 
 Sc. Now, verily, sir, but this a just judgment upon 
 you for hoarding up your moneys, and suffering the 
 good old cause to starve. 
 
 JFh. Screech-owl ! But where's my doctor 1 
 
 Jol. Why, troth, sir, you cannot blame him ; he is 
 somewhat loth to appear till he see how things are 
 like to go. Come, pray, sir. 
 
 Wh. Well, sir, I see by this chain the Major and 
 you understand one another. Let's have no more 
 words ; all parties shall be satisfied. Give me 't ! 
 
 Jol. There — and may you long Kve to wear 't. You 
 may come down — all's well. 
 
 [To EuNTER, peeping above. 
 
 Wh. Come, son and daughter ; the business is done, 
 and I forgive you both. And if that settlement be 
 not large enough, I'll make you a new one upon 
 demand. You shall have your own estate back in 
 present, and, as you love your mfe, the rest after our 
 deaths. And so you have my blessing. 
 
 Aft. and, Bea. — [kneel] — We thank you, sir. 
 
 Wh. Come, let's be merry ! and, as late as 'tis, send 
 for the music — we must have a dance at least. 
 
 Jol. See what 'tis to forecast a man's business right. 
 They are gone for, and will be here instantly. 
 
 Wh. But we forget the main thing — the posset. 
 Quickly, Cis, and get one ready. [Exit CiS. 
 
 Mrs. Wh. How's this 1 music ! — dancing ! posset ! 
 Are they lawful, good Mr. Scruple 1 
 
 Mrs. Mop. Are they not the rags of the whore ? 
 . Sc. Thereafter as they may be used. I will consider 
 it a little, and give you my opinion. [He vjalks. 
 
THE CHEATS. 107 
 
 Enter Runter. 
 
 Wh. my doctor ! you're a fine gentleman ! Good 
 faith, you are ! 
 
 Ru. Who — 1 1 I care not if all my faults were writ 
 in my forehead. 
 
 Enter Tyro. 
 
 WTi. It must be in shorthand then, or there -vyill 
 want room. 
 
 Jol. Here's Tyi'o too. You're even come time 
 enough to dance at your mistress's wedding ! 
 
 Ty. How ! My mistress's wedding ] 
 
 T. T. Even so. Alas, that I had known of this 
 before ! 
 
 Ru. Women will have their wills. Let her go — I 
 have another guess-thing in chase for you. 
 
 Ty. And shall I have her 1 
 
 Ru. Thou shalt. And hark you ! 
 [RuNTER having tvhispered him, he shrugs, and scratches 
 his elbow. 
 
 Sc. Hum — I am full, and shall discourse 'em 
 gradually. And first, of the first — music. Yes, 
 certainly, it is lawful. But what music ; that's the 
 question. We'll examine it a little. Cymbals — they 
 are Jewish ; the harp — malignant and Irish ; organs — 
 antichristian ; the flute — a mere hornpipe ; the fiddle — 
 out upon 't ! most abominable ; it ushers in revels and 
 May-poles. What then ? Why, truly, I agree with the 
 Assembly — bagpipes ; a harmless, innocent music, and 
 most agreeable to the discipline and practice of our 
 brethren of the kirk. Besides, it has (as the learned 
 observe) a specific quahty, to molHfy and soften the 
 most brutal natures — witness the bears. 
 
 "EmolHt mores nee sinit esse feros." 
 But, secondly, for dancing : — why, truly, that may be 
 lawful too. But here, too, the point will be the same — 
 what dancing 1 Country dances — they are pagan ; 
 French dances — fie, fie ! antic ; our ordinary dancing 
 — villanous; 'tis mixed and promiscuous — a very 
 
108 
 
 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Nicolaitanism. The benchers' measures, I must con- 
 fess, they come somewhat near were they not 
 superstitious. What then ? Why, the men may dance 
 in one room, and the women in t'other. Lastly, for 
 the posset : — and, truly, here I'm in a great wood. 
 But not to dAYell upon the letter whether posset, or 
 p-osset, I shall take it as it lies before me — posset — 
 and, truly, that may be lawful too. Lemon-posset is 
 cooling ; carduus-posset, henedidus ; and sack-posset 
 comfortable ; but wedding-sack-posset — there's the 
 ])oint ! Truly, I half doubt it, and that for fifteen 
 reasons — hum 
 
 Jol. A plague o' these fiddlers ! AVe shall be 
 murdered ere they come. 
 
 Sc. I say, for fifteen reasons. First, from the name 
 of the things, — posset, from posse, to be able, and from 
 that fond supposition first brought into weddings — an 
 invention merely carnal. But secondly, for that it 
 ministreth abundance of unsavoury discourse. Thirdly, 
 for that the grace before it is none at all, and the 
 grace after it lewd. Fourthly, that it is eaten by the 
 parties cliiefly concerned, only in spite. Fifthly, 
 hum — haw — I say, fifthly 
 
 Enter Fiddles. 
 
 Jol. Servavit Apollo ! Strike up ! strike up ] One 
 noise best drowns another. 
 
 Sc. A wholesome observation lost. 
 
 Jol. 'Twill keep cold for another time. 
 
 JVh. Come, gentlemen, one dance, and then for the 
 posset ! \Tliey dance. Tyro pipes. 
 
 Jol. Yet, with your favour, Mr. Alderman, a song 
 would do no hurt. 
 
 Wh. I think so too. 
 
 Sc. But ye don't consider 'tis Saturday night, and 
 past sunset. 
 
 Jol. Or you, that the room's next the street, and 
 most of the neighbours will take it for a psalm. 
 
 Wh. Well said, Mr. Jolly 1 and we will have it. 
 Begin ] 
 
THE CHEATS. 109 
 
 A Song. 
 
 Do it, do 't ! Ay, but what, my good fellow ? 
 Canst thou tell me what 'tis makes a glad man 1 
 
 Shall I flatter to thrive, 
 
 Or be honest and live 
 The same beast I was born, and die mad — man 1 
 
 Shall I bow to the calves of the season ? 
 Or cry up the Sir Pol of the nation 1 
 
 Or the college of fools, 
 
 Or those moulds of the schools 
 That spoil forty for one that they fashion ] 
 
 Shall I speak to the world, I've the meagrim, 
 By adorning the furrs and the custard?"' 
 
 By the conjugal itch, 
 
 Or the "plague of being rich, 
 And be damned for another man's bastard ] 
 
 Shall I bluff like the man of great business 1 
 Or set a starch'd face upon folly 1 
 
 Shall I pet and repine, 
 
 Turn love-sick and whine, 
 Or kick the world round, and be jolly ? 
 
 That ! that ! And while Gotam Hall statists 
 Buzz their heads with this fop and that clatter, 
 
 Who'll be the next mayor 
 
 Shall be least of my care, 
 Or who Pope on this side the water. 
 
 Then away with 't ! And thy foot to mine, boy ! 
 Here's a glass ! and again ! 'twill ne'er hurt you. 
 Drunk, drunk, and dead drunk. 
 And perpetually drunk, 
 Oh, 'tis the reward of virtue ! 
 
 [He drinks it off'. 
 * Qy. Costard— the head ? 
 
110 THE CHEATS. 
 
 Wh. Why, so — we are all friends ! And now, you 
 that are for the posset, follow me ! 
 
 Jol. Well moved ! well moved ! — the bride begins to 
 be sleepy. 
 
 Bil. Lead on before, there ; I'll bring up the rear. 
 Come, landlord, bear up for the bar of Chester ; and 
 since we have had so good fortune to-day, we'll hence- 
 forth boil our beef in sack, and make the beggars 
 drunk with the porridge. [Exeunt. 
 
 THE END. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
Andronicus Conmenius : A Tragedy. By John Wilson. 
 Juvenal, Sat. 13. — ' Fatebere tandem, nee surdum, nee Tire- 
 siam, quenquam esse deorum' — ^At last you'll find, that heaven 
 is neither deaf nw blind.' London, Printed for John Starkey, 
 at the Mitre, between the Middle-Temple Oate and Temple- 
 Bar, in Fleet Street. 1664. ito. 
 
AxDRONiCTTS CoMNEXUs, or, according to "Wilson, Comnenius, 
 was, as Gibbon truly observes, a remarkable instance of the 
 truth, of the old proverb, that "bloodthirsty is the man who 
 returns from banishment to power" — an adage of which Marius 
 and Tiberius were striking instances, and of which Andronicus 
 is a still more striking illustration. * He was the youngest son 
 of Isaac, who had the title of Sebastocrator, "which approached 
 the dignity, without sharing the power, of the Emperor, "+ and 
 gi-andson of the Emperor Alexius Comnenus i. 
 
 He was "one of the most conspicuous characters of the age, 
 and his genuine adventures might form the subject of a verj* 
 singular romance. To justify the choice of three ladies of royal 
 birth, it is incumbent on me to observe, that their fortunate 
 lover was cast in the best proportions of strength and beauty ; 
 and that the want of the softer graces was supplied by a manly 
 countenance, a lofty stature, athletic muscles, and the air and 
 deportment of a soldier. The preservation in his old age of 
 health and vigour was the reward of temperance and exercise. " 
 "Dexterous in arms, he was ignorant of fear; his persuasive 
 eloquence could bend to every situation and character of life ; 
 his style, though not his practice, was fashioned by the example 
 of St. Paul ; and in every deed of mischief he had a heart to 
 resolve, a head to contrive, and a hand to execute." 
 
 In selecting a portion of the life of Andronicus as a fitting 
 subject for his drama, Wilson has taken the latter part of his 
 sanguinary career, when, by his intrigues, his hypocrisy, and the 
 aid of those he subsequently betrayed, he succeeded in placing 
 on his brows the Byzantine diadem ; and it cannot be denied 
 that our Author has been successful in the manner in which 
 the true history has been epitomized, and in the language used 
 for that purpose, which is throughout poetical and appropriate. 
 The scenes where Andronicus declines the purple, and especially 
 the one where, after murdering Alexius, his youthful associate, 
 he courts his widow, Alice, J is not much inferior to the well- 
 known passage of words between Richard iii. and the Lady 
 Anne, the widow of the only son of Henry vi. There is a 
 singular resemblance between the Andronicus of Constantinople 
 and Richard of England : both were murderers, and both mar- 
 
 * History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap, xlviii. 
 London, 1791. Vol. ix. p. 104. 
 
 ■f Ibid. p. 86. 
 
 X A daughter of Louis vii., King of France. In the Dramatis Personm 
 she is called Anna. 
 
 H 
 
114 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 ried tlie widows of tlie parties they had murdered. But the 
 Eastern Potentate exceeded in acts of atrocity the King of 
 England, whose deeds of murder sink into insignificance when 
 compared with the wholesale slaughters perpetrated by the last 
 male representative of the illustrious race of the Comneui. 
 
 Gibbon has devoted several pages* of his valuable work to 
 this unchristian Christian, who avenged the fancied wrongs he 
 had suffered from his cousin, the Emperor Manuel, upon his 
 widow, the Empress Maria, and their son Alexius. "In the 
 first months of his administration, his designs Avere veiled by a 
 fair semblance of hypocrisy, which could delude only the eyes of 
 the multitude. The coronation of Alexius was performed with 
 due solemnity ; and his perfidious guardian, holding in his hands 
 the body and blood of Christ, most fervently declared that he 
 lived and was ready to die for the service of his beloved pupil. " 
 
 Thus, in his protestations, Andronicus went far beyond 
 Kichard, who never profaned the religion he professed by false- 
 hoods of this description. After thus declaring the boy 
 Emperor, the credulous citizens of Byzantium were easily in- 
 duced to assume that the associating of Andronicus as joint- 
 ruler with the boy- emperor was the only way of saving the 
 empire from ruin. 
 
 Amongst his earliest acts of vindictive revenge, was that 
 perpetrated by him upon the Empress Maria, whom he accused 
 of treasonably corresponding with the King of Hungary. He 
 caused her to be apprehended and tried before a "tribune, 
 which, without requiring any proof, or hearing any defence, 
 condemned the widow of Manuel ; and her unfortunate son sub- 
 scribed the sentence of her death. Maria was strangled, her 
 corpse was buried in the sea, and her memory was wounded by 
 the insult most offensive to female vanity — a false and ugly 
 representation of her beauteous form." 
 
 The fall of Alexius was not long deferred. He was strangled 
 with a bow-string ; and the veteran tyrant, after surveying the 
 body of his innocent victim, kicked it with his foot, exclaiming, 
 " Thy father was a knave, thy mother a w^hore, and thyself a 
 fool. " As a suitable conclusion to this bloody episode, Androni- 
 cus married the widow of his murdered colleague. To complete 
 this fearful tragedy, he put to death all those friends by whose 
 zeal and activity he was enabled to assume the purple. 
 
 After a sanguinary reign of three years, in the course of 
 which Andronicus, from time to time, destroyed every member 
 he could find of the imperial family, including his own half- 
 sister, the Princess Mary, it came to his knowledge that there 
 still existed a descendant of Alexius the Great, + named Isaac 
 
 * Chap, xlviii. 
 
 ■f Alexius I. was father of the Princess Anna Comnena, who wrote his 
 life, a work which "betrays in every page the vanity of a female author." 
 He assumed the purple in 1081, 1st April. The Princess Anna is introduced 
 toy Scott in Count Robert of Paris. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 115 
 
 Angeliis, who, although by a female descent, might at some 
 future period occasion him trouble. He resolved upon his death ; 
 and, ha\'ing given orders for his execution, retired Avith his 
 Empress and a favourite mistress to one of the delicious islands 
 of the Propontis, to enjoy the pleasures of their fascinating 
 society free from interruption of every kind. 
 
 The proscribed Isaac did not tamely submit to the bow- 
 string ; he bravely defended himself, slew the executioner, and 
 fled to the church of St. Sophia for sanctuary, where he w^as sui'- 
 rounded by a crowd of the citizens, who, becoming apprehensive 
 what might be the consequence of their daring to obstruct the 
 tyrant's order, took courage, and exclaimed : ""What should we 
 fear ? Why do we obey ? We are many and he is one : our 
 patience is the only bond of our slavery. " 
 
 At dawn, the populace were beyond control. The prisons 
 were forced open, and the liberated inmates swelled the crowd 
 of malcontents. Isaac Avas proclaimed Emperor. * Andronicus, 
 after a futile attempt to recover his position, attempted to 
 escape by sea, but was captured and dragged in chains to the 
 presence of his successor, who abandoned him to the tender 
 mercies of his captors. The description of the tortures inflicted 
 on this monster need not be here detailed, as our author has 
 sufficiently enumerated them in his drama. 
 
 Geneste remarks that this tragedy has, "on the whole, con- 
 siderable merit, particularly in the character of Andronicus," 
 an opinion, we venture to think, in which our readers will con- 
 cur. It is well put together, and the interest never flags from 
 the commencement to the end. The tyi'ant's son Manuel is 
 admirably drawn, and his virtuous character afi"ords a strong 
 contrast to the vicious one of his parent. Manuel is represented 
 as one worthy of the Grecian diadem, and in the drama shines 
 as a brilliant star amongst the lesser lights by whom he is 
 suiTounded. After the dethronement of Andronicus, it is 
 erroneously said by Gibbon that he became King of Trebizond, 
 a country of which much has been said, but of Avhich little is 
 known. 
 
 Had Wilson been aware of the fate of Manuel, he would not 
 have put the commonplace morsels of morality with which the 
 tragedy terminates in the mouth of Isaacus Angelus, who, so far 
 from feeling commiseration for the Prince, made him a captive, 
 deprived him of his eyesight after the Oriental fashion, and 
 afterwards, it is believed, put him to death. 
 
 The two infant sons of the Prince, Alexis and David, fled 
 with their aunt Tamar to Colchis, where they grew up to man's 
 estate. In 1206 Alexis made himself master of Trebizond, 
 where he ruled until his death in 1222. 
 
 The most original character of the piece is that of Philo, the 
 "zany" of Andronicus, who adheres to his master in all his 
 
 * 1185, Sept. 1. 
 
116 
 
 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 fortunes, and dies for him. It may "be conjectured, as nothing 
 is recorded of him in Gibbon, that he was a myth, the creation 
 of Wilson's fancy. The dialogue between Manuel and Philo, in 
 which the Prince endeavours to convert him to virtue, is, we 
 fear, more poetical than real. 
 
 Wilson has produced a noble tragedy, written in excellent 
 blank verse, at a period when the ear of the puW'c was corrupted 
 by the wretched jingle of rhyme, made fashionable as a French 
 importation, and patronized by the king and his courtiers. 
 Perhaps on that account it was never acted on the stage. 
 
TO MY FEIEND A. B. 
 
 If ever you give yourself the divertisement of reading 
 the preface to my comedy of TM Cheats, you may re- 
 member I did as good as protest against apologies ; 
 and yet the case happens to be such at present, that 
 I find myself, how unwilling soever, engaged to tread 
 that path yet once again. To tell you how long since 
 this tragedy was first written, or why it has not been 
 since acted, were but in effect to suspect your memory. 
 'Tis enough to me that you know both, and I doubt 
 not will be ready to do me right as you see occasion. 
 I pass it, and, according to our wonted freedom, shall 
 only speak a few words to the thing : A story of the 
 Eastern Empire, between the years 1179 and 1183, and 
 such, perhaps, as might not be thought altogether un- 
 parallel to what ourselves have seen, were not the one 
 but too fresh in our memories, and the other too far 
 removed from our knowledge. And now, methinks I 
 hear you charging me with a non bene conveniunt. The 
 story of three or four years cramped into fewer hours ! 
 And why not 1 My design was a history, and if I 
 have kept the connection, I may reasonably presume 
 I have observed enough ; nay, further, if I have dealt 
 with it as Procrustes with his guests, — lopped some, or 
 stretched others, — be pleased to consider, 'twas for the 
 same reason, that I might the better fit them to my 
 own model. To be short, if I have once again made 
 my thoughts legible, and myself the subject of every 
 man's opinion, how weak soever, be pleased, to such 
 cavils as you may chance to meet with, to oppose 
 this : — That notwithstanding I may have written some 
 few plays, yet the stage is the last thing I shall pre- 
 tend to j and therefore, though possibly I could wish 
 
118 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 ut placerent quas fecissem fabulas, yet I was never so 
 much in love with a full cry, as to believe that all 
 opened alike, or that the approbation of one wise man 
 was not more worth than the noise of a multitude. 
 Let me not seem immodest if I close all with that of 
 Plautus — 
 
 "Yirtute am hire oportet, non favitoribus ; 
 Sat habet favitorum semper qui recte facit. " 
 
 Farewell ! — Yours, etc., 
 
 J. Wilson. 
 
 Jan. 15, 1663. 
 
THE PERSONS. 
 
 Alexius Comnenius, A Youth, the Son and Successor of 
 Manuel Comnenius, Emperor of Constantinople. 
 
 Anna, His Wife, a Daughter of France, afterwards mar- 
 ried by Andronicus. 
 
 Maria C^esarissa, Half-sister to Alexius, and Wife to 
 Ccesar, an Italian lord, only mentioned, but appears 
 not. 
 
 Sebastus, The Husband of Xene, the Widow of Manuel, 
 who, by debauching the Emperoi^'s youth, had got the 
 management of affairs. 
 
 Andronicus Comnenius, A Prince of the blood, ba- 
 nished by Manuel; but, being called home to counter- 
 poise Sebastus, usurps upon Alexius, murders him, 
 > and marries Anna. 
 
 Manuel, His Son. 
 
 CONTO, 
 
 CONSTANTINUS, 
 DUCAS, 
 
 Lapardas, 
 
 Stephanus, 
 
 Basilius, 
 
 r Admiral of the 
 \ Gallies. 
 
 J Lords of thebest 
 extraction. 
 
 ' Captain of the 
 Guard to 
 Alexius, and 
 afterwards to 
 Andronicus. 
 President of the 
 City; both 
 confidants to 
 Andronicus. 
 
 All of them, together 
 with Maria and 
 Basilius, a bishop, 
 often mentioned, 
 but appears not, 
 of the conspiracy 
 to bring in An- 
 dronicus. 
 
120 
 
 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Mamalxjs, Secretary of State during the time of Manuel, 
 laid by by Sebastus. 
 
 Philo, Andronicus's Zany. 
 
 IsAACUS * Angelus, A Gentleman of the blood, afar off, 
 but living obscurely in a monastery, not taken notice 
 of by Andronicus; but, the rest of the blood being 
 destroyed, he is in a tumult set up against Andronicus, 
 and carries the Emjpire. 
 
 Citizens. 
 Guards. 
 
 Servants. 
 Fiddlers. 
 
 The Scene — 
 CONSTANTINOPLE. 
 
 * Throughout the play, as originally printed, this character is 
 styled " Isacius." 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS: 
 
 A TRAGEDY. 
 
 Act i. — Scene i. 
 Enter Lapakdas and DucAS. 
 
 Du. 'Tis strange ! and were 't not for tliat ready- 
 faith 
 I owe your lordship, I had sooner taken 
 Another article to my creed. A woman ! 
 And yet so large a soul ! Your lordship's merry ! 
 
 La. Troth, no ; she fixt me, Ducas ! When I saw 
 How she first took the question, stated it, 
 Ean the whole matter, and, where danger offer'd, 
 Past it with such a careless scorn. Believe me 
 It made me wonder into what narrow cranny 
 My soul had crept ! 
 
 Du. You've such a knack at speeching, 
 
 You either find them good, or make them so. 
 Eack me no longer, dearest sir ; let's have it ! 
 
 La. And willingly. We met — you know the place ; 
 Nor was th' appearance small. And as in councils 
 There never was a fool, — at least that would 
 Be thought so, — ev'ry man let fly his bolt ! 
 One offer'd this, another that. The point 
 Was common danger. All agreed the thing, 
 But few the way of helping it — that plague 
 And mischief of gTeat actions, " Let's do better," 
 Had so unhing'd their souls, until Maria 
 Summ'd up their Kttle all, told them th' 'ad lost 
 The question, and 'twas not their wellbeing 
 
122 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 But being was the point — not what Greece should be, 
 But whose it was ! And when they threw in doubts, 
 That thou hadst seen her how she blew them off ! 
 Snufft at their scruples ! " And is this," quoth she, 
 " The lion in the way 1 Can danger baulk 
 Men once resolv'd ^ Be that bugbear mine ! 
 I dare encounter it, and act, whate'er 
 You all dare think ! " 
 
 Du. 'Twas a brave virago ! 
 
 A wonder of her sex ! A phoenix, sure ! 
 
 La. Ay, you'd have sworn it, had you heard that 
 world 
 Of which this is but an imperfect globe — • 
 A wrong side of the hangings ! 
 
 Du. But, my lord. 
 
 How was it relish'd 1 Did not their seats grow warm ? 
 
 La. No ; but they all lookt wistly one on t'other. 
 As who would say, 'twas true enough, but yet 
 Some passages might have been well forborne. 
 
 Du. What was the issue 1 
 
 La. Why, they all shook hands, 
 
 And by a general vote center'd in this : 
 That men and monies must be rais'd, to break 
 The present faction, and themselves would do 't ! 
 Next, that Andronicus be invited home 
 To head the forces, which Maria pray'd 
 Might be her part o' th' work. Which once agreed, 
 Sooner than thought they fell into their gears ; 
 Each man subscrib'd his task, gave order straight 
 For her instructions, and have since despatcht her. 
 
 Du. But no account as yet 1 
 
 La. Not possible ! 
 
 'Tis scarce two months since she departed hence. 
 And we forbade all packets. But this night 
 She is expected. Good my lord, be there ! 
 Your proxy'U serve no longer. I have told them 
 Your gout is over ! 
 
 Du. I shall, my lord ! My fate 
 
 Euns hand in hand with yours ! 
 
ANDRONICUS COaiNENIUS. 123 
 
 Enter Maimalus. 
 
 But see ! "VMio's coming yonder % I'm mistaken, 
 Or 'tis Mamalus ! He was an honest courtier 
 And our true friend ; why should not he make one % 
 
 La. He is best able. All the affairs of Greece 
 Have pass'd his hand, and with no ill success. 
 
 Du. Let's try ! My honour for his secrecy ! 
 
 La. With all my heart ! See, he comes up to you ! 
 
 Du. Mamalus, save you ! 'Tis an age, or better, 
 Since we last met. 
 
 Ma. The loss, my lords, was mine ! 
 
 La. But whence, our friend? — turn'd courtier again % 
 How goes all there ? 
 
 Ma. Troth, I've scarce seen the place 
 
 Since my great lord and master, Manuel, died. 
 I can nor fawn nor truckle. 
 
 Loj. Pettish, I warrant ! I'm asham'd, Mamalus ! 
 Is it a courtier's part to show his teeth 
 Before he bite 1 — to breathe a pitiful revenge 
 Ere he have power to act ? x^o ! Great men's injuries 
 Are best remedied by not understanding them. 
 Or seeming t' 'ave forgot them ; whereas, otherwise, 
 Y' aTe sure to be prevented with a greater. 
 Have a good heart ! I not forbid thee strike ; 
 But do it sure. 
 
 Ma. Your lordship's wide o' the mark. 
 
 Yet since you name the Court, when were you there ? 
 
 Du. Troth, we come there, and that is all. We're 
 grown 
 Barely spectators — idle lookers on. 
 Sometimes, perhaps, out of a compliment, 
 To countenance a business, or concur. 
 We're caU'd to council too. 
 
 La. And what of that ? 
 
 Matters of consequence we must not know. 
 Nor is it out of love to us, but fear 
 Of what may follow, that we've kept our heads. 
 
 Ma. And can you blame me, then, that have no 
 stake, 
 
124 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 If I sit out, when you that have the greatest 
 Have such ill carding 1 
 
 Du. Break his neck that packt them ! 
 Come, join with us — shuffle and cut again ! 
 
 Ma. I am no conjuror ; your lordship must 
 Speak plainer ere I understand you right. 
 
 La. Give us thy hand and word for secrecy ! 
 
 Ma. You have them both. 
 
 La. Then, to be short, we're lost, 
 
 And so's the empire ! Now, to recover it. 
 Most of the lords and officers of state 
 Are join'd ; nor want we men, or arms, or money ! 
 Andronicus the head — at least we hope so. 
 
 Ma. But why, my lords, such haste % Must a man 
 lop 
 A limb 'cause out of joint 1 — knock out his brains 
 To cure the headache ? What's to be done but once 
 Should be considered twice ! Mutations 
 Are ever dangerous, even where the thing 
 Might have been good and profitable at first ; 
 It being impossible to provide against 
 Those inconveniences we can't foresee. 
 
 La. But there's no other way ! Has not Sebastus 
 Turn'd us quite topsy-turvy, disoblig'd 
 The nobles, trampl'd under foot the commons ] 
 
 Ma. 'Tis granted ! But why this last remedy ? 
 Bear it a little — time may work it off ! 
 Come, come ! close with him ! Blow the bladder stiff. 
 And it must crack ! By pulling others down 
 He has o'erbuilt himself ! 
 
 Du. We've often thought so, 
 
 But find it otherwise. 
 
 Ma. Admitting yet 
 
 You must be changing, how are you secure 
 He that comes next shall not be worse ? Who, pray. 
 Shall keep the keepers 1 
 
 Du. We have order'd that. 
 
 Ma. But why Andronicus, of all the world 1 
 
 Du. Why ] He's a soldier, and a Prince o' th' blood, 
 And valiant enough ! 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 125 
 
 3Ia. So much the worse ! 
 
 What were a virtue in another, in him 
 May prove a crime ! He is too near the crown 
 Already, and this gives him th' occasion 
 Of grasping that he has so long design'd ! 
 I dare not — nay, I must not join ! The wolf 
 Shall never have my voice to make him shepherd ! 
 But yet, to show your lordships I'll be secret, 
 I'll trust you with as much. You may remember 
 My master banisht him ; but why, I'll tell you. 
 He is a Prince of the most daring soul 
 E'er dropt from Heaven — industrious, vigilant. 
 Kind, affable, magnificent. 
 
 Yet all this good — nay, all his lusts and passions 
 Are slaves to his ambition ! Take him there, 
 Nothing can hold him. Laws, religion, all. 
 Sacred or civil, are no more than — this ! 
 
 Du. But we'll provide for that. AVe'll tie him up 
 Fast under hand and seal, well backt with oaths ! 
 
 Ma. Tie him with oaths ! Hah! You may sooner hold 
 An angry lion with a clew of thread. 
 Giants with rotten tow ! Th' old emperor found it, 
 When, having forgiv'n him so oft, he still 
 Broke out anew — swore and forswore again ; 
 Until necessity made him resolve 
 To kill or banish him — which last took place. 
 Pray Heaven 't 'as altered him ! Howe'er, let me 
 Remain your lordships' servant ! 
 
 Both. Friend, you mean ! Farewell ! 
 
 [Exit Mamalus. 
 
 La. 'Tis time that we went too. 
 
 Du. I wait your motion. ^[Exeunt. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Enter Sebastus and CoNSTANTiNUS. 
 
 Con. Now, good my lord ! h' 'as been an ancient 
 servant 
 
126 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Unto our family ! 'Tis tlie least I can ! 
 Pray let him have it ! 
 
 Seh. How was your lordship saying ? 
 I did not mind you well, my head's so full ! [Scratches, 
 
 Con. 0' th' simples! — [Aside.] — Come, I beg but 
 seldom. 
 Shall I send him to kiss your hands ? 
 
 Seb. Matters of State 
 
 Beat all things out ! 
 
 Con. No ; 'tis your oval crown [Aside. 
 
 Lets nothing in ! 
 
 Seb. But, good my lord, what is 't 1 
 It must be somewhat more than in my power 
 When you're denied. 
 
 Con. Troth, 'tis a very nothing ! 
 
 Seb. Why, then, you have it ! Is your lordship 
 pleas'd 1 
 
 Con. Hah ! yours is pleasant ; 'tis a little odd thing — 
 The majordomo to his majesty's bears. 
 
 Seb. Certain, my lord, it is too mean a place ; 
 And he might find much better. What is 't worth "? 
 
 Con. Not much above a hundred crowns a year, 
 Besides the blessing that attends an office. 
 
 aS'^^. Stay 1 Majordomo 1 — Let me see ! I doubt 
 Somewhat was done in 't lately. — [Scratches.] — Oh ! I 
 
 have 't ! 
 Alas ! my lord, 'tis gone — dispos'd, in troth. 
 Now I'm so sorry ! 
 
 Con. But to whom ? or how 1 
 
 Seb. Why, I'm mistaken, or the Emperor gave it 
 To — [scratches] — an old servant of his father's. 
 
 Con. Strange I 
 
 Eagles do seldom stoop so low. 
 
 Seb. Then 'twas 
 
 My wife — and like enough it might be so ! 
 But there are other things as good, or better, 
 And might be found if men were diligent. 
 Trust me, I am so vext ; I'll tell my wife 
 What a displeasure she hath done your lordship. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 127 
 
 Con. Your lordship's ! Gone ! — dispos'd ! My life, 
 this fellow 
 Would sell his soul, were any man so mad 
 To bid him money for 't ! Was this a thing 
 To be believ'd ? The devil of such a servant 
 Or office I yet ever heard or dreamt ; 
 But now I see 'tis good to try one's friends 
 Ere a man needs 'em. And the same have I 
 The nature of this beast. Now is he gone 
 To hunt a chapman ; but the scent, beloved. 
 Will be cold ere you light on one ! Dull Greece ! 
 Where is thy soul % What magic or what fate 
 Has dampt thy spirits % Canst thou live, yet be 
 Bull'd by this urchin ? Canst thou breathe, yet suffer 
 Such a slave ride thee % — such a tinsel bauble % 
 No ! Know, fond man, though Greece be fast asleep. 
 Her genius wakes ; nor shall thy formal nothing 
 Brave it much longer ! Dirt thou art, and dirt 
 Shall be thy last, and sudden too ! 'Tis done 
 The better half, what is once well begun ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 Enter Philo, solus, with a letter in his hand. 
 
 Ph. Hah ! hah ! hah ! hah ! hah ! hah ! To see 
 this world ! 
 Luck's all ! 'Tis better to be fortunate 
 Than be a rich man's son ! Here are boys scrambling : 
 One gets an apple, t'other a broken pate ! 
 There's good luck and bad luck ! 
 Yonder a knot of rogues rebel : the poor ones 
 Hang for example, and the great ones are "_ 
 Ev'n what they please — good luck and bad luck too ! 
 
 'Tis now two years since first my master sent me 
 To manage his design within this city. 
 And what have I done there ? Only deserv'd 
 For to be hanged ! Many an honester man 
 Than both has marcht that way ! But the luck's all ! 
 
128 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 See ! — [Shoivs his letter.] — I've receiv'd intelligence from 
 
 him 
 That what we have been hammering so long 
 Is just dropt into 's mouth ! 'Tis offer'd him ! 
 Here is a kennel of such precious curs 
 They cannot rule themselves ; and now they court 
 The devil to part stakes ! I hope he will 
 Remember them in time ! Troth, they deserve it. 
 Well, I must to them ; but, to bring me there, 
 Find out Maria ! Now, the wit of woman ! 
 I see they may be trusted with more secrets 
 Besides their husbands' ; though, in troth, I judge 
 'Twas the best place to lodge one safe — wise men 
 Ne'er look for 't there ! 
 
 Enter Manuel in a di 
 
 But what have we got here 1 
 A piece of poetry in prose 1 Hah ! hah ! 
 A small philosopher, but that he wears 
 A brawling-iron ! He walks as if he were 
 Measuring feet with the Antipodes, 
 Or treading out the Saxon ordeal ! 
 Sure it would speak ! I'll step aside and see. 
 
 Man. Vain state of wretched man, that only knows 
 AVhat yet he found too soon — his misery ! 
 Where is that happiness philosophers 
 So much contend for 1 I have often met 
 The name, but ne'er the thing ! — sure 'tis their stone. 
 In other words ; or, having trod that path 
 So long, I must have reach'd my journey's end. 
 One would have thought my birth, to say no more, 
 Had been enough t'ave given me title to 't. 
 But now, I am convinc'd 'tis but a dream, 
 An airy fancy ; or if yet there be 
 More in 't, 'tis negative, and to be happy 
 Is only not to be miserable ! 
 
 But what do I thus fondly to complain 
 In such a common case 1 Trace far and near, 
 And all alike — no satisfaction ! 
 Now I see nature took a fall when young, 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 129 
 
 She has so limpt e'er since. What's all this world 
 But several purlieus of mid beasts that walk 
 On their hin' legs, wherein not always strength, 
 But such as have the cleanliest conveyance, 
 Drive the dull staring herd before them 1 
 What's all that noise and cry of public good 
 But a conspiracy of the richer sort 
 To grind the poor, and fence themselves with laws 
 To keep that safely they've unjustly got 1 
 What makes a traitor but a ruin'd cause 1 
 Or heretics, but being less in number 1 
 Tiay, what are even our greater ties become 
 But bawds to interest, and specious names 
 To cover great men's wrongs 1 Who, then, would live 
 That had but soul enough to die 1 or be 
 A pris'ner when the keys of his own prison 
 Hung by his side, and might discharge himself? 
 And so will I — [draws] — 'tis worthy of my blood ! 
 Here — [sets the hilt to ground] — take your virtue back 
 again who gave it ! 
 
 And by your leave 
 
 [Philo comes from behind the hangings and 
 trips his sword away. 
 Ph. And mine too, if you please ! 
 
 Man. Still more misfortune ! What art thou ] 'Twas 
 rude 
 To take that from me which thou darest not give ! 
 
 [Manuel riseth and runs upon the other's point. 
 Ph. Stand off ! Nay, since you must pursue your 
 folly. 
 Hold ! there's your sword again — [draws]. 
 
 [They fight and dose; in the close Philo knows 
 him, throws aiuay his sword, and kneels. 
 My honour'd lord 1 
 Now, shall I bless or curse my hand ? 
 
 Man. Begone ! 
 
 And tempt thy fate no longer ! 
 
 Ph. My best lord ! 
 
 Yet hear me speak 
 
 MaM. Rise, and bs sudden then ! 
 
 I 
 
130 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Ph. I shall. — [Riseth.l — And, since this combat of 
 your passions 
 May've checkt each other, give your reason time 
 To breathe a while ! Consider what you're doing ! 
 It is an injury to yourself and nature. 
 Nature preserves itself, and taught not this, 
 Nor promis'd any by privation bliss. 
 
 Man. Injurious to myself it cannot be ! 
 I'm willing ; injury supposes force. 
 Nor yet 'gainst nature ; for then surely they, 
 Whom no religion aw'd, as having 't not. 
 Had never us'd, at least affected, it. 
 Then take your argument, or tell me why 
 Nature yet left it in our power to die ? 
 
 Ph. She could not help it. To have made a man, 
 And yet denied him liberty of will. 
 Had been t'ave given him wings and dipt them too. 
 Yet, take 't with its restriction, she ne'er meant 
 Because you might you should destroy yourself 
 If all should do the same, where were the world 1 
 
 Man. What's that to me ? would the whole world 
 lay here ! [Claps his hand u;pon his heart. 
 
 And I'd soon solve the question. 
 
 Ph. Yet show me 
 
 Some late example of this kind ; this humour 
 Has worm'd itself quite out of date. 
 
 Man. Disuse 
 
 Is a poor argument. Let children fear 
 To sit alone because their candle's out : 
 It is enough to me there is yet left 
 This remedy and triumph over fortune. 
 Begone ! 
 
 Ph. I must not. 'Tis now worth yourself 
 To dare to live ! Who ever sunk his ship 
 Because he fear'd a storm might do it for him % 
 Or kill'd himself to save his enemy pains 1 
 Life is a warfare, and who quits the field 
 Without a lawful passport runs away. 
 
 Man. And so do thou, and quickly, or, by this 
 
 [Manuel shakes his sword at him. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 131 
 
 I shall too soon confute your argument ! 
 
 Ph. What will your noble father say ? 
 
 Man. Ha ! Father ! 
 
 There's magic in the word ; 't 'as chill'd my blood 
 Into a palsy. Hence ! I dare not trust 
 My resolution, nor thy tattle, longer. 
 
 Ph. How will he bear 't, I say, when he shall hear 
 His son thus sacrific'd to his return ? 
 
 Man. Return ! There's witchcraft in thy breath ! 
 Begone ! 
 And stagger me no longer with false hopes. 
 
 Ph. Credit me once ! By all that's great or good, 
 He's now in Greece — nay, near this city too. 
 
 Man. Shall I believe thee ? No ! it must not be ! 
 Somewhat within me whispers 'tis not so. 
 Yet say he were ! He has believ'd me lost 
 These many years ; and why should I now add 
 New sorrows to myself or him — to see him, 
 And yet want power to help him 1 
 
 Ph. Fear not that 
 
 You have ! I'll chalk you out the way ; and if 
 You see him not ere many hours shall pass. 
 As glorious as the sun broke through a cloud. 
 Then let that mischief you design'd yourself 
 Fall headlong upon me ! 
 
 Man. Well, for a while 
 
 I'll give thee hearing ! [Sheathes his sward. 
 
 Take up that, and help me 
 To put it on again. So — so ! 'Tis well ! 
 
 [Philo takes up his grey periwig, and helps him 
 on with it agaivi. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 Enter Constantinus, Stephanus, a7id Basilius. 
 
 Bas. 'Twas a good humour ! 
 
 Const. Good ! I'll undertake 
 
 You shall not think that thing he shall not swallow. 
 
132 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Bas. 'Tis such a starcht intelligible ass ! 
 
 Ste. And may become a fair a twelvemonth hence. 
 
 Const. A dainty fine new-nothing ! — an odd scheme 
 Of knave and fool, where yet the fool's ascendant, 
 And lords the horoscope — too much the fool 
 To conceal handsomely the knave, and yet 
 Not knave enough to act the cunning fool ! 
 I shall forbear a farther lecture on him ; 
 I'm sure he'll stink ere I get half way through him ! 
 
 Ste. I would he knew how well his friends thought 
 of him ! 
 
 [To them CoNTO, Lapardas, and DuCAS. 
 
 JBas. See ! here are more of them ! 
 
 Co7ist. My lords, all health ! 
 
 [They salute each other. 
 What say you 1 
 Shall we fall to our business 1 
 
 Cont. When you please ! 
 
 [They take their seats. 
 
 Const. You know, my lords, what we resolv'd on last. 
 Have you received any account as yet 1 
 Is our Maria safe, or the work done 1 
 
 Cont. She is returned this night, and sent me word 
 She would be here. But what is done I know not. 
 
 Ste. 'Tis a brave lady ! Troth, I half despair'd 
 T' have heard of her so soon ! 
 
 Cont. Pray heaven it ben't 
 
 Too soon to all our costs ! 
 Your lordships know he is ambitious. 
 
 Const. And who is not, pray 1 
 
 It is the spur of every generous fool ! 
 And were not you the same, what make you here 1 
 
 Du. But 't had been prudence t'ave secur'd our- 
 selves. 
 
 Const. I hope there's no such need. Here comes a 
 lady 
 
 Enter Maria, led hy Philo. 
 
 Will quickly end the difference. Let's go meet her ! 
 [They all rise and go to meet her. Exit Philo. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 133 
 
 Madam ! you 're well return'd ! And yet not I, 
 But Greece, must speak it ! 
 
 Omnes. Royal Maria, welcome ! 
 
 [They all kiss her hand. 
 
 Mar. My lords and gentlemen, I thank you ! 
 And am sufficiently repaid my pains 
 In your acceptance. Please you keep your seats. 
 And I'll acquaint you what I've done. 
 
 Const Blest madam ! 
 
 Our life and death hang on your Hps ! And yet, 
 Methinks that face speaks a good augury. 
 
 Mai: Then know, my lords, 
 I have despatcht your message, and here bring you 
 All you could ask or think. The sea proved calm, 
 The wilKng winds smil'd on the enterprize. 
 And left me not till I had reach'd Onseum,* 
 Where I soon found Andronicus — his fame 
 Needed no guides — but, in that blest retirement, 
 That all those things which we call happiness 
 Might have took copy from 't, but still come short. 
 Not to amuse you longer, I presented 
 Your letters, and he read them o'er ; but when 
 He saw the business, troth, he wept, and wisht 
 It had been in his power to have complied ; 
 But he was old, and had given o'er the world 
 To younger men, and his ambition now 
 Was for a better. Yet he sigh'd and wept, 
 And wept and sigh'd, and sigh'd and wept again. 
 And thus he kept me many days. Yet still 
 I press'd him forward — ^told him Greece was sunk 
 Unless he buoy'd it up — that the court had 
 More factions than lords — the commons prest — 
 The empire shatter' d — nothing could restore 't 
 But his lost hand ; beseecht him to forget 
 His banishment and him that laid it on. 
 At length he paus'd, and, pausing, askt me how 
 It could be done *? He was but one ; and arms. 
 Not lazy wishes, must accomplish it ! 
 On which I show'd him all the whole design — 
 
 * Onium — a place of the Peloponnesvis, near Corinth. 
 
134 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 The persons' names, wliat force we had already. 
 
 And what expected to be hir'd from thence. 
 
 Well, to be short, I did at last prevail, 
 
 And with his help procur'd five thousand foot ; 
 
 Yet left him not till I had seen all shipt. 
 
 And safe amidst our fleet, where he now rides, 
 
 Before the city, and resolves to land 
 
 This very night, and sack her round ere morn. 
 
 'Tis more than time, my lords, that you were gone — 
 
 There's one came with me has your orders ready. 
 
 Cont. But what conditions has he sign'd ] 
 
 Mar. Much more 
 
 \She throivs them a blank. 
 Than you desir'd ; he bids you Avrite your own, 
 And he hath sworn religiously to observe them. 
 
 Cont. What's here ? — a blank ! 'Tis what I thought 
 — h'as sworn 
 To nothing, and nothing he'll perform. Would I 
 were fairly rid on 't ! 
 
 Lap. So would I ! 
 
 Bu. And I ! 
 
 Lap. We're fool'd so prettily ! 
 
 Cont. Or we may, in time ! 
 
 [CoxTO, Lapardas, and Ducas rise, walk, 
 and ichisper. 
 
 Bas. Did ever men confound a business so ? 
 My soul ! we're lost ! — we shall all be discover'd ! 
 
 Ste. I know not what their fear may do. 'Twere 
 best 
 To knock them i' th' head, and give it out 
 The soldiers did it. If our business thrive, 
 AYe're well enough ; if not, we save ourselves. 
 The dead can tell no tales. 
 
 Bas. 'Twere not amiss ! 
 
 What says my lord 1 
 
 Const. Let's hear him once again ! 
 
 And, Eoyal madam, see what you can do. 
 
 Mar. Well, my good lords, what would you now 
 beat? 
 Are you resolv'd as yet ? 
 
 \ 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 135 
 
 Cont Why — ^we'll consider 't, 
 
 \Tliey offer to go out, Maria stops them. 
 And send you back our answer. 
 
 Mar. How 's this 1 Consider ! Is 't your fear, or 
 fate? 
 Blisters of greatness, whom the stupid age- 
 Dull as yourselves — calls lords ! What prompts you 
 
 this 
 Irresolution 1 You all confess 
 
 The Empire flames, and yourselves must burn with it ; 
 And yet, forsooth, you first strain courtesy 
 Who shall begin, or which the way, to quench it. 
 Nor is that block sooner remov'd, but that 
 You stumble on another ; and then, too. 
 When one would think you had been all resolv'd. 
 You must be now secure ! Call you this lording 1 
 I shame to hear 't, and, but my sex forbids, 
 I should suspect your mothers ! Was 't for this 
 My glorious father '"" made all Asia bow. 
 Confess his empire, and, had nature pleas' d, 
 Shak't all the world — at least brought t'other eagle 
 Back to her nest again 1 Was it for this — 
 For this, I say, your famous ansires spread 
 Their flying banners far as earth had shore, 
 Only to leave the empty fame to you ? 
 Away ! Agree ! Occasion calls j^ou forth ! 
 Show whose you are, and justify your mothers ! 
 
 Const. 'Tis a brave mettled Amazon ! 
 
 [CoNTO, Lapardas, and DucAS walk uj) and 
 down, biting their U;ps. 
 
 Ste. T faith, 
 
 She nettles them ! 
 
 Mar. For shame, my lords ! Eesolve — 
 
 Time runs away ! 'Tis execution 
 Makes counsel's walk invisible, and, like arrows, 
 Outrun the eye, and hit the mark ere seen. 
 What is 't you fear 1 If 't be Andronicus 1 
 You have his honour, and his oath engaged. 
 Or if Sebastus % Fancy not to meet 
 * The Emperor Manuel. 
 
136 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Augustus' arts, nor yet Tiberius' cunning. 
 
 No, no ! he's nothing but a thick-skull'd stallion — 
 
 A very sot — and such a snivelling coward, 
 
 'Tis favour to call him so. Then, courage, lords ! 
 
 Challenge your birthright ! Be no more tame fools. 
 
 Dull heavy beasts, so jaded from your spirits 
 
 That honour cannot spur you up. Come, come ! 
 
 Mind what you should — 'tis now too late t' advise. 
 
 For Greece at present wants more hands than eyes. 
 
 Cont. Why, I still meant it. 
 
 Lap. We'd as good be lost 
 
 In going through as lose our heads for nothing. 
 
 DiL Nay, I'll do what you will — what you resolve 
 To do, do quickly. 
 
 Mar. Now you speak like men ! 
 
 Come, my lords ! all 's well again. And for aught 
 That yet remains, we'll better order it within. [Exeunt 
 
 Scene v. 
 
 Enter Andronicus, solus. 
 
 Thus far 'tis well, and I return'd again ! 
 
 To thank thee, Greece; nor have thy wrongs been 
 
 sown 
 On barren ground, but such as shall repay 
 The principal, with its forbearance too. 
 
 I am a Prince — who dares deny 't 1 He breathes 
 His last that answers no ! He damns his soul 
 In that one negative ! There's but a step 
 'Twixt me and the Imperial crown ! Nor should 
 That coward wear 't that dares not venture for 't. 
 Was this the reason, my blind mistress, that 
 You stroock at me 1 That thus you deal with all, 
 Fortune, like butchers, makes the fairest fall ! 
 But stay ! I'm still upon my feet, and will 
 Keep up my chin in spite of her ! If she 
 Will not assist, the world shall know I can 
 Do it mthout her help ; nor shall she share 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 137 
 
 A doit i' th' praise, when I, arrived at top, 
 
 Thus grasp my wish ! Yet say I were as flat 
 
 As she could lay me — at the lowest ebb — 
 
 I would not yet give out ; 'twere poor to fear : 
 
 Who is past hope he should be past despair ! 
 
 I'll run the hazard, then ; and if I fall. 
 
 What in me lies I'll pluck all after me, 
 
 Nor leave behind me such a one that shall 
 
 So much as mutter 't. No ! my very name 
 
 Shall fright the world, and make future times 
 
 Fondly attempt my history, but not reach it. 
 
 Who follow, tread where men have trod before ; 
 
 Who is example, must be something more ! [Exit 
 
 Act ii. — Scene i. 
 
 Alarums, as at the sack of a town ; shouts within. 
 Enter Sebastus, as in a fright. 
 
 Seh. Undone ! undone ! That ever man should be 
 Lost ere he dreamt it ! Whither shall I run 
 To. hide myself? — [Shout.] — Hark! they've won the 
 city. 
 
 Enter Alexius and Anna. 
 
 Alex. What sudden noise is this 1 
 
 Seb. I cannot tell. 
 
 Anna. Who should tell, then 1 
 
 Seb. They say Andronicus 
 
 Has landed thirty thousand horse and foot, 
 And is now storming of the city. 
 
 Anna. One would have thought you should have 
 looked to this. 
 
 Seb. Who would imagine banishment a place 
 To raise an army 1 Or suspect the fleet 1 
 
 Alex. No doubt but he's well back'd by some at 
 home. 
 
 Anna. Too true, I fear me ! 
 
138 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Seb. Will 't please your Majesty to get away 
 Ere 't be too late % 
 
 Alex. No ! I liave done no wrong, 
 
 Unless to wear a crown may be call'd such. 
 
 Seh. You willdo well enough, whoever suffer. 
 
 [To Anna. 
 Pray think on me ! 
 
 Anna. Yes, I'll remember you ! 
 And if my word will do 't 
 
 Seh. Do 't, without doubt ! 
 
 Anna. I'll have thee hanged, thou coward ! Take 
 thy sword. 
 And if thou canst not find a man that loves thee 
 So well as to die by thy side, yet go ! 
 And thrust thyself amidst thy thickest foes : 
 It may deceive the world. Thy life's not worth 
 His pains that takes it from thee. [Alarum — shouts. 
 
 Seb. Hark ! again ! 
 
 The palace is beset ! I 've but one shift. 
 And if that fail me, then good night to all. 
 
 Enter Andronicus, as giving orders to some within. 
 
 And. See that the soldiers make no outrages 
 Upon the palace ; there are Franks enough 
 Within the city, and good pillage too. 
 Set your guards round ; be sure no great ones 'scape. 
 And if you take Sebastus, bore his eyes out ! 
 But see ! — the Emperor ! — I must to him. Heaven 
 
 [Goes uj:) to him, and kneels and kisseth his feet. 
 Preserve your majesty, and confound your foes. 
 
 Alex. Cousin, you're well returned, and might have 
 been 
 As welcome with fewer followers. However, rise ! 
 Give me thy hand, and unto Heaven thy knee. 
 
 And. Next that, unto my prince. And do not think, 
 
 [He riseth. 
 Dread sovereign, that I intend you hurt 
 Although I knock'd thus rudely. All my aim 
 Was to remove your wardship, and I 've done 't. 
 And now you 're free — free as the air you breathe ! 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 139 
 
 Make the experiment ! and, if you doubt my faith, 
 Bid me return to banishment, — I 'm gone. 
 
 Anna. I know not why, but I don't like his looks. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Alex. Cousin, I thank you, and believe you too. 
 The helm requires your help ; I cannot trust it 
 Into a better hand. But pray, forget 
 Those injuries my father put upon you. 
 I am no otherwise entitled to them 
 Than as I am his son. 
 
 And. Had they been more, 
 
 I could have past them all, yet never cancel' d 
 That double tie of loyalty and blood ! 
 'Twas not his fault, but my unlucky fate, 
 To have my love misconstrued ; not the burthen 
 That grieved me, but the hand ; not banishment, 
 But that 'twas caused by him ! However, let 
 Kevenge sleep with his ashes ! I will pay 
 All mine in service to your majesty ; 
 And to that end have I embark'd at present. 
 
 Alex. Pray, let me see you often ! Farewell ! 
 
 [Exeunt Alexius and Anna. 
 
 And. All happiness attend your Majesties ! 
 Yes ! you shall see me — ay, and feel me too, 
 Ere you're much elder. Th' 'ast a double crime — 
 First, that th' art Emperor; next, that Manuel gat 
 
 thee. 
 Curs'd Manuel ! would thou liv'dst, I'd make thee feel 
 The weight of my revenge. I scorn to raze 
 Thy monument, or to ungrave thy dust ; 
 I rather wish the rest of all my foes 
 Entomb' d as fairly. But thy son, thy wife. 
 Thy friends, or whatsoever may prop either, 
 I will destroy ; and make this boy to know, 
 They're fools who trust a reconciled foe. 
 
 Enter Philo. 
 
 How now ! what news *? Have you dispos'd the army 
 Into good quarters ? Are the lords well pleased 1 
 Phil. Yes ! as success can make them. And the people 
 
140 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Call you the public father — scarce a house 
 Without its bonfire ! 
 
 And. Then the groundwork's laid ! 
 
 But, prithee, tell me — for I must acknowledge 
 Thy management — how gat you this odd rabble 1 
 Their tempers are more different than their faces — 
 'Twould puzzle the devil to suit them into pairs. 
 
 Phil. O, sir I I've ta'en more shapes than Proteus 
 knew — 
 Been everything to every man — divided 
 And subdivided them again ! Most men 
 Have their blind sides, but these are blind on both. 
 
 And. But how didst pick them out ? 
 
 Phil. He that will make 
 
 Aught of the husband must begin with th' wife. 
 I've dealt 'twixt bark and tree, turn'd Confessor, 
 And now and then held forth ; talked of ingoings 
 And of outgoings, so thin and bodyless, 
 That I was forced t' assign six or seven marks 
 To know it by, — twelve consequent effects. 
 Nineteen persuasions, besides ways to get it — 
 Innumerable. 
 
 And. You are merry, Philo ! 
 
 I fain would give myself the loose. Proceed ! 
 
 Phil. And since your highness gives me leave, I 
 shall 
 Set out my cattle. 
 
 I've one — but he's a scabbed sheep — a tailor, 
 And he's been studying these twenty years 
 A querpo * cut of government. I told him 
 'Twas special good, and must be well received ! 
 Another, a philosopher by fire ; 
 And he has broke his brains to find the powder 
 To cleanse houses of office without stinking ; 
 And him I have possess'd 'tis the first step 
 To the philosopher's stone — too great a thing 
 For any private man. However, he 
 
 * Close. Literally, a dress close to tlie body. 
 " I would fain see him walk in querpo, like a cased rabbit, 
 without his holy fur upon his back." — Dryden. 
 
 4 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 141 
 
 Should, as the first inventor, have the patent ! 
 
 T' other a one-eyed cobbler, — him I humoured 
 
 As a fit instrument to stitch a hole 
 
 I' th' commonwealth, when in a trice he threw 
 
 His wax to th' devil, and his awl to 's dam ! 
 
 T' other a meal-man ; and he was for sifting 
 
 The flour of pure doctrine from the bran 
 
 Of superstition, which his neighbour baker 
 
 Liked weU, and cried he 'd leave the leaven out ! 
 
 There's scarce a trade of which I have not one. 
 
 And, to keep all together, I 've a small Le^dte. 
 
 He does so tew * the Pope, that man of sin. 
 
 The whore of Babylon ; and when he takes a run 
 
 'Gainst sense and Antichrist, the clock can't stop him ! 
 
 And. 'Tis such a rope of sand ! Howe'er, they have 
 Done their work well enough. 
 
 Pkil. And are apt matter, 
 
 Ready disposed for what you 'd have them next. 
 
 And. But what was he that skuttled by my side 
 As I came in ^ He went as if his head 
 Would run away with 's shoulders ! 
 
 Phil. Can you blame 
 
 A bowl to wabble that hath lost its bias ^ 
 He's been an old State-martyr. 
 
 And. I remember him : 
 
 He was a scribbler in the old Emperor's days. 
 
 Phil. And has done special service for your high- 
 ness — 
 Not that he loves you more tlian him, but hates 
 Whatever's uppermost. 
 
 And. Then 'twere best hang him 
 
 To please the people. 
 
 Phil. You may do what you wiU ; 
 
 'Tis but a halter lost. 
 
 And. But what was he 1 
 
 Don't you remember him that led the van, 
 And stormed the citadel 1 I saw it aU ! 
 Thrice he came on, and thrice beat back again ; 
 But, as a happy omen to my cause, 
 
 * Annoy. This word is still in use in tlie north of England. 
 
142 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Brought off th' Imperial eagle in his hand ; 
 
 Eallied his men upon the spot again, 
 
 Mounted the walls afresh, and leapt among 'em ; 
 
 And, as jou 've seen a flock of sheep, when one 
 
 Breaks through the hedge the rest straight follow him. 
 
 So here his soldiers, as ashamed to see 
 
 One single man give battle to the Empire, 
 
 Leapt after him, and while you 'd say What's this 1 
 
 Carried the place ! Canst tell me what he was 1 
 
 Phil. Yes j he's a gentleman of noble blood. 
 And if your highness please to ratify 
 What I have done, the regiment is his. 
 
 And. With all my heart, and thank him too ! Where 
 ishel 
 
 Phil. Here, in the palace, sir. 
 
 And. Go, fetch him to me ! 
 
 Phil. I shall! [Exit FmhO. 
 
 And. This single soul is worth two Empires ! 
 Just such another had my Manuel been. 
 But that he fell too soon. For all the rest. 
 How I could hate them ! What's the best of men 
 That he must be beholden to such slaves ? 
 But it must be ! I have a greater work 
 For them to do — over their shoulders I 
 Must climb th' Imperial throne, no matter how ! 
 He that attempts a wickedness must lay 
 Thorough a greater wickedness his way ! 
 Sin sin must hide. Thus architects do roll 
 Stone upon stone, and so cement the whole. 
 I have my agents that shall buzz the people * 
 How fit it is Alexius' youth should have 
 One that may help and share in government. 
 And whom more fit than I, whom every mouth 
 Terms the preserver of their liberty 1 
 Nor shall they want rewards ! Tush, 'tis but lent ; 
 I can as easy pluck it back as squeeze 
 A sponge that's full. One need not far to find 
 A staff to beat a dog, nor circumstance 
 To make him guilty that 's before foredoom' d ! 
 * Spread secretly among the people. 
 
 1 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 143 
 
 Thus, when they've done, I'll throw the rod i' th' fire, 
 And break the ladder when 't 'as raised me higher ! 
 
 Enter Philo, conditcting Manuel. 
 
 Now thou hast brought me something ! How he looks, 
 As he would shake the world ! You're welcome, sir ! 
 I have sent for you, first to acknowledge, next 
 To thank, your valour. 
 
 Man. 'Twas my duty, sir. 
 
 And. Call 't what you will, I do assure you thus 
 
 [Hugs him. 
 I cherish it. And now, to let you know 
 How I can value virtue where I find it, 
 I ratify whatever Philo promised ! 
 I've a strange curdling in my blood— what ails me 1 
 
 Man. I thank your highness. 
 
 Phil. So do I ; you never 
 
 Could have bestow'd it better. 
 
 [Philo ;plucTcs off Manuel's disguise. 
 
 And. Ha ! what 's this % 
 
 Some devil has assumed my Manuel's shape 
 To vex my soul ; but I shall conjure him, [Draws. 
 And blow this thicken' d cloud to air again. 
 
 [Manuel kneels. 
 
 Man. Your blessing, Eoyal sir ! Forbear, a while ! 
 I am your son, your Manuel, not slain 
 As was supposed. 
 
 And. Stand up, and let me feel thee ! 
 
 [Andronicus feels him. 
 'Tis flesh, and warm ; and now I own thee too ! 
 Welcome, my Manuel, to thy father, welcome ! 
 Let me embrace my son ! Methinks I 'm young, 
 And have snatch' d forty years from time ; my blood 
 Beats high and strong again. But, prithee, tell me ! 
 Twentj^ at least have sworn they saw thee fall, 
 But, like thyself, opprest, not overcome. 
 
 Man. How 'twas I fell, I know not ; but next day 
 A countryman, searching to find his son 
 Among the dead, found me almost one wound, 
 
144 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 But yet not breathless, and in charity 
 Convey'd me to his house, and used me so 
 As he had known whom 'twas he entertain'd. 
 And that I am, next Heaven, I owe 't to him ! 
 
 And. Philo, take care two thousand crowns be sent 
 him, 
 And my faith, too, to his next wish — 
 He was an honest man ! 
 
 Phil. It shall be done, my lord. 
 
 And. Come, Manuel ! 
 I'm but too happy now ! Some little mischief 
 To turn this tide, lest, swelling up, it tear 
 Its banks, and drown what it but thought to cheer. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Enter Mamalus, solus. 
 
 Mam. Unhappy Greece, or more unhappy me, t 
 
 That live to see this day ! How is thy sword 
 Turn'd on thyself, and thine old foe invited 
 Unto the funeral of thy liberty 1 
 Pray Heaven, my augury prove false ! But yet 
 Methinks I see a cloud hang o'er thy head. 
 And, I 'm afraid, will break too soon ! That State 
 Is past its zenith that ne'er learns to do 
 But by undoing, and that ne'er sees order 
 But where disorder shows it ! Some curst star 
 Has fired the people, and our seditious peers 
 Bring fuel to 't ! If one should ask them now 
 What they would have, not one of them can tell, 
 But praise those times of old they only heard of, 
 And damn the present, though they neither know 
 What 's the disease nor yet the remedy. 
 And now Andronicus is the great idol. 
 The father of his country, and what not ! 
 A man may safer speak 'gainst Heaven than him, — 
 Him, whom last year they cursed, and, ten to one. 
 Will do 't again before the next be past. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMXENIUS. 145 
 
 Nor will he lose his time : he knows they 're clay, 
 
 And may be moulded to what shape he pleases. 
 
 The people is a skittish beast, and must 
 
 Be smooth'd and stroked till he get into the saddle. 
 
 He's at it now ; but if he once get there, 
 
 "Which Heaven forbid, they'll find both s^vitch and 
 
 spur. 
 His age has more of fii^e than Phaeton's youth — 
 He knows no mean ; but, as his soul is large, 
 So is his courage ! Think and act to him 
 Are the same things, only remov'd in time. 
 He 's not like others ; he was born to rule 
 Within an empty sphere, — for such he'll make it, 
 And christen that solitude with the name of peace ! 
 Others, they're like t'ave none. 
 
 Enter CoxTO leading Maria, Constaxtinus, 
 DucAS, and Lapardus. 
 
 But see ! my friends 
 That brought him in ! Islj life, they rue it &st ! 
 
 Omnes. Mamalus 1 well met ! 
 
 Mam. Your lordships' servant ! 
 
 \Tluij salute. 
 
 Mar. And now, my lords, will you believe me next ? 
 Is not Andronicus the same I promis'd ? 
 
 Const. Yes, troth he is ! and praise can add as little 
 Unto him as detraction take from him. 
 
 Cont. But yet it does no hurt to talk a little — 
 One may observe more than another does. 
 It did me good to see how he receiv'd us, 
 Manag'd the storm, and, when that brush was over, 
 How he embrac'd us with the same even temper. 
 As though he had not been concern'd at all. 
 Certain he must be wise ! 
 
 Mar. His long experience 
 
 Must do 't, if yet it had not found him so. 
 
 Du. And for his valour, ask the meanest soldier, 
 And he will swear it was his great example 
 Put courage in them all ; and, like the soul, 
 Did actuate the whole and every part. 
 K 
 
146 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Cont Most strangely liberal ! Has giv'n the fleet 
 Ten thousand crowns, besides what other presents 
 Has made to th' officers ! What pity 'tis 
 The Empire lost so brave a man so long ; 
 Or, since it has him now, age creeps upon him. 
 
 Mar. The greater is his glory ! Had he been young, 
 It had not been so much, though yet he has 
 Outstript whatever I or heard or read. 
 I'll vie his autumn with the pride of spring. 
 
 Const. But hark you, gentlemen ! you don't consider 
 How much work's yet to do. The Council waits us ! 
 Will 't please your highness walk ] 
 
 Mar. Lead on, my lord ! 
 
 The Duke and I will follow. 
 
 [Exeunt Constantinus, Conto, and Maria. 
 Manent Lapardus, Ducas, and Mamalus. 
 
 Lap. Now, my good friend. 
 That are so costive of your faith, how think you 1 
 Is not Andronicus a gallant person 1 
 
 Mam. You know I told it you, and only doubted 
 How long 'twas possible to keep him so. 
 Then are you safe, and only then, Avhen 'tis not 
 Within his power to hurt you if he would ! 
 I hope you've tied him up by hand and seal, 
 Though you have done no more. 
 
 LajJ. It needed not. 
 
 We have his honour and his oath engag'd. 
 
 3fam. To what 1 
 
 Du. We'U tell you that another time. 
 
 Mam. How willingly these lords would cheat them- 
 selves ! [Aside. 
 
 Lap. Methought you said he was ambitious ; 
 But I'll be sworn he is the humblest man 
 I ever met with. 
 
 Mam. And that may be pride. 
 
 For aught we know. Who was the prouder, pray — 
 Diogenes, that spurn' d at everything. 
 Or Alexander, that sate out at nothing 1 * 
 'Tis dangerous. There is a rule in ethics, 
 * "Was never satiated with conquest. (?) 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 147 
 
 That pride which riseth from humility 
 
 Is hardest cured ; because the vice is grounded 
 
 Upon the virtue, and the sin built on 
 
 That that should be the cure. 
 
 Lap. What should one talk 
 
 To make an infidel a proselyte 1 
 Farewell ! 
 
 Du. Farewell ! 
 
 Mam. My noble lords, your servant ! 
 
 [Exeunt by several loaijs. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 Enter Andronicus and Philo. 
 
 And. But did they relish it 1 
 
 Phil. 'Twas not disHk'd, 
 
 Xor much approv'd ; but yet they drank your health, 
 And swore you were the best and bravest Prince 
 That Greece e'er bred ! I only threw it out 
 As 'twere by chance, then catch' d it back again, 
 To make them follow it. What in the lump 
 Wauld fright, by piecemeal giv'n goes easy down. 
 
 And. It was discreetly manag'd ! You must ply them 
 For fear it cool ! 
 
 Phil. I warrant you 'tis done ! 
 
 The women are all agog — they would fain see 
 Another show ; besides, I've promist them 
 One's husband shall be this, and t'other's that ! 
 Let it ferment a while — 'twill do itself 
 
 And. I like it well ! Leave me, and tell Basilius 
 And Stephanus that I expect them here. 
 
 [Exit Philo. 
 
 And. What's the best workman without tools 1 I 
 think 
 I am fitted pretty well : the fleet mine o'svn. 
 In spite of Conto, and the fool dreams it not ; 
 The city sure, upon Basilius' score ; 
 The guards, on Stephanus' account j the army. 
 
148 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Upon my own ! He that can lose tliis game, 
 By my consent should never play another 1 
 And why should I suspect my fortune, then ? 
 Who courts her, loses her. She is a whore, 
 And must he ruffled ! So will I ! She never 
 Coy'd it to him that boldly offer'd at her 1 
 I'll forward then ! But, as men get up-stairs, 
 Step after step, 'tis somewhat long, but sure. 
 He that will get through a crowd, he must 
 First wedge an elbow, then a shoulder in. 
 And press on still till the whole body follow. 
 I must court everything, submit to all, 
 Tie up myself ! Yet what of that 1 A Hon 
 Is still a lion though his claws be par'd : 
 They'll grow again. He that doth otherwise 
 Falls foul of that odd solecism of power. 
 To will the end, yet not the means endure ! 
 
 Enter to him, Basilius and Stephanus. 
 
 Welcome, my friends ! for that and nothing else 
 
 Must be the name hereafter. 'Tis we three 
 
 Must make a new triumvirate, and share 
 
 Greece and her glory, and throw in the world 
 
 As overweight. What is 't you may not have 
 
 As cheap as ask 1 But give yourselves the trouble 
 
 To wish, and 'tis your own. Is it estate 1 
 
 The Empire and her wealth lie at your feet. 
 
 Is it command 1 The provinces are yours. 
 
 Is it revenge ? Mark out your head, and have it. 
 
 Would you a beauty 1 'Twill be offer'd you. 
 
 Wives by their husbands, daughters by their mothers. 
 
 And to complete all this, would you have honour 1 
 
 I am your servant, only mind yourselves ! 
 
 What say my noble friends 1 
 
 Ste. 'Tis seal'd and done ! 
 
 Nor shall the fate or fortune of the Empire 
 Stave it off longer. 
 
 Bas. I have giv'n my hand. 
 
 Nor Avould I pluck it back to save my head ; 
 Nay, though the universe depended on 't. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 149 
 
 And. Spoke like yourselves, my friends ! — [Hugs 
 them.] — Thus men resolve ! 
 Nothing remains but that we deal like friends ; 
 That's free and plainly. Have you discours'd the 
 
 thing 
 Unto your cousin, Basilius 1 What says he 1 
 
 Bas. Yes, and 'twill do ! But here's a gentleman 
 Will scarce believe 't. 
 
 And. And why, my Stephanus 1 
 
 Ste. Pox o' these holy cheats ! He humm'd and 
 haw'd, 
 Told me a sleeveless story, could not tell 
 What God might suffer, and, I know not what. 
 Of dispensations and of providence. 
 Pleaded his holy function ; but at last 
 Promis'd neutrality and secrecy. 
 
 And. Oh ! then he's sure enough. 
 
 Bas. My life for yours ! 
 
 Do you but make it law, he'll make it gospel ! 
 
 Ste. Nay, there's no doubt he can. 
 
 Bas. Trust me for him, 
 
 The thing is now abrewing ! But great designs 
 Are like great wheels — if once they move too fast, 
 'Tis odds they fire themselves. Besides, the people 
 Must not be rid too hard ; they travel best 
 When they play with the bit i' their mouths — if once 
 
 they get it 
 Between their teeth, 'twill try your horsemanship ! 
 A man must deal with them as we break horses. 
 Show them the saddle first, then let them smell 't ; 
 Lay it i' the manger ; set it on their backs. 
 Your foot i' the stirrup ; let them feel your weight 
 Once and again, and, as you find them coming, 
 Fall gently into the saddle ; off again ! 
 And use them thus but half a dozen times, 
 They'll take the rest themselves. 
 
 And. He's in the right ! 
 
 And I had former thoughts, whether were best 
 For my design the people or the nobles ; 
 But have resolv'd upon the first. They're won 
 
150 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 With half the do, and easier kept ; engage them, 
 
 Though never so implicitly, they drive 
 
 Furiously on ! They're like a conjuror's de^dl — 
 
 Find them but work enough, you need not fear them : 
 
 Without it, 'ware yourself. Our first work, then, 
 
 Is to divide them, and to keep them so 
 
 Till we be safe ourselves. We must have parties 
 
 And antiparties, factions and antifactions. 
 
 Until they break to nothing ; then you'll have them 
 
 Be glad of anything ! Distune a viol. 
 
 And you may set it to what tone you please. 
 
 Ste. But is 't not requisite your highness were 
 Of every of them — at least underhand % 
 One would not think what an endearment 'tis 
 When they believe that he that has the power 
 Is theirs, and singly theirs — it girds them to you. 
 
 And. And what says Basilius ? 
 
 Bas. Extremely good. 
 
 Nay, necessary ! If the people are mad. 
 He's madder far that will not be mad with them ! 
 What should a sober man in drunken company 
 But have his brains knockt out? 
 
 Ste. Besides, by this 
 
 You'll raise a dust before the grand design ! 
 'Tis hard to see the bait in troubled waters. 
 
 And. Now, you're my friends I'm sure ! I see you 
 love me, [Hugs them. 
 
 You've advis'd so true and honestly. 
 
 Bas. On, my lord, and trust me for the city ! 
 
 Ste. And for the guards, myself ! I'm sure I can 
 Form them to anything. Nor are they mine 
 But to your highness' service. 
 
 Arid. My best friends ! [Again. 
 
 Let's keep this knot inviolable ; and, however 
 Our present actions may seem flat and dull. 
 They'll credit us when they are seen at full. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 151 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 Enter Philo, and four Citizens drunk 
 
 Phil. Troth, we were merry ! Is not this better than 
 Small beer and homiUes 1 
 
 1 at. Yes j but methinks 
 I cannot find my feet ! 
 
 2 at. Nor I my head, 
 
 But by the noise in 't ! Now, were I scholar, 
 Would I confute philosophy, and prove 
 The world went round. 
 
 3 at. Faith, neighbour, at this time 
 I could say somewhat to that point. 
 
 4 at. If so, 
 It had been roasted to a coal ere now ! 
 
 Phil. Or raw, or roasted, what is that to us 1 
 
 1 at. Ay, let it round until the spit do crack ! 
 Give me more drink ! — [Knocks.'] — Sirrah ! boy ! rogue ! 
 
 more drink ! 
 
 Enter Drawer. 
 
 Draw. Anon ! anon, sir ! 
 Speak in the Mitre, Christopher ! Wliat lack you, 
 gentlemen ? 
 
 2 at. Some drink, you rogue ! some drink ! And 
 do you hear me 1 
 
 The best i' the cellar ! We trouble you but seldom. 
 Draiv. Please you to walk up, gentlemen ? 
 
 3 at. No j we'll take it here. 
 
 Draw. I wait upon you presently, gentlemen. 
 
 4 at. I've drunk enough, but I'll be rul'd ! Whoop, 
 Ambrose ! 
 
 AVhat — all-a-mort ? [Cla^js him on the shoulder. 
 
 2 at. I am not satisfied ! 
 But as a man would say, how do you ? and so forth. 
 
 Phil. "Why, what's the matter, man ? Art thou that 
 Greek 
 That knockst men underboard by scores, and cry'st 
 Have ye any more that must be drunkified 1 
 
152 ANDRONICUS COMNENIIJS. 
 
 Enter Drawer, and fills. 
 
 Set out your hand, or hang you ! — here's this to you ! 
 
 4 at. I know what troubles him ! The Court is 
 broke. 
 And most of 'um lie leiger * in his book ! 
 
 PMl. 'Tis not all lost — 'twill serve at last for waste- 
 paper. 
 If that be all, give him his drink — fill 't up ! 
 
 2 at What was 't % 
 
 Phil. Andronicus, his health ! 
 
 2 at Away with 't ! [Leaves some, 
 
 Phil. I must not bate you that ! 
 
 4 at Come, drink it off ! 
 
 He's a brave person ! 
 
 2 at He's a man indeed — 
 He paid me honestly. Then down it goes 
 
 If it were a mile to bottom. Here's to thee, Greg ! 
 
 3 at With all my heart ! He kept a princely 
 house : 
 
 One might have been drunk in his cellar with a good 
 conscience — it cost a man nothing ! 
 1 at The most affable man 
 I never met ! You could not speak to him 
 But he'd be bare as soon as you. 
 
 4 at He ow'd me 
 Some monies at his banishment ! I was paid, 
 And without sending for 't : Not many courtiers 
 Have such good memories. 
 
 3 at. A few such men 
 
 Would make tradesmen live. Bless him, say I ! 
 Phil. So ! it begins to work. [Aside. 
 
 Enter two others, drunk and singing — Ta! la! 
 la ! la ! la ! la ! — To them a Fiddler. 
 
 Plague o' these fools ! — they'U put it off again ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 Fid. Please you, have any music, gentlement ? A 
 
 * Passive. Literally, an ambassador resident at a foreign 
 court. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 153 
 
 dainty, fine, merry, new song ! Tliere is none but I 
 and my boy. Sirrah, come forth ! Where are you ? 
 I have not lost you in the crowd, have 1 1 
 
 Enter a tall well-set Fellow. 
 
 Phil. A pretty child-chopper ! 
 
 1, 2, 3 at. Ay, ay ! Strike up — strike up ! 
 
 4, 5, 6 at. Scrape, rogues, scrape ! \They play. 
 
 3 at. But shan't we have a song too 1 
 
 Omnes. Ay — ay — ay — ay — ay ! 
 
 Fid. A merry drinking song, and 't like your 
 
 worships ^ 
 Omnes. Ay — ay — ay ! — that — that — \1ie sings. ] — 
 
 "Fill— fill up, and"— 
 
 Fill, fill up the bowl. 
 
 And about let it trowl, 
 'Tis a magical spell against sorrow ! 
 
 It makes a man sing, 
 
 Hey ! derry, derry, ding ! 
 And ne'er busy his brains with to-morrow. 
 
 'Tis the beggar's ease. 
 
 And his charm against the fleas ; 
 It recovers the man that did dwindle ! 
 
 It makes a stiff" giant 
 
 Both active and pliant. 
 And a cripple turn round like a spindle. 
 
 It cares not a straw 
 
 For the Justice or his law ; 
 It fears neither spies nor reporters ; 
 
 It makes all the house 
 
 Lie as snug as a mouse, 
 And a petticoat sleep without porters. 
 
 1 at. How now, brother ? whence came you ? 
 
 6 at. Even from where it was, or, as a man may say. 
 The more the merrier : we have been drinking 
 The best man's health in Europe. 
 
154 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 3 CiL Then here 's to you — 
 
 The second best ! 
 
 6 Git. Who 's that 1 
 
 3 at. Andronicus! 
 
 6 Cit. 'Twas his T meant. 
 
 5 Cit. We cannot have 't too oft. 
 
 6 Cit. Come, then, away with 't ! 
 
 [They drink round. 
 
 Phil. Now 's my only time. — [Aside. 
 
 What say you, gentlemen % You all confess 
 He is a noble person 1 
 
 Omnes. As ever liv'd. 
 
 1 Cit. Wise ! 
 
 3 Cit. Bounteous I 
 
 4 Cit. Valiant ! 
 
 2 Cit. Everything ! 
 
 5 Cit. And deserves everything. 
 
 6 Cit. And would he had everything ! 
 
 Phil. Why, so ; I see 
 
 You 're understanding men, and may be trusted. 
 Look over this. [Re gives them a long roll. 
 
 4 Cit. Here are a thousand hands. 
 
 Phil. Yes, ten at least ! 
 I'm sure 't 'as cost my lord and me five days [Aside. 
 To scribble their ugly fists. 
 
 2 Cit. Let's see what is 't 1 
 
 1 Cit. [Beads.] " The humble petition and address of 
 the citizens and inhabitants of Constantinople, — 
 Showeth," etc. Hang 't — give me a pen ! I had rather 
 set my hand to 't unsight and unseen than to trouble 
 my head to read it over. [Subscribes. 
 
 4 Cit. Sure, there can be no hurt in 't ; there are 
 so many hands to 't. 
 
 Phil. You may be sure of that. 
 
 3 Cit. What is it, then? 
 
 Phil. Why, you congratulate his safe return, 
 And pray him he would assist the Emperor. 
 Alas, good Prince ! he '11 have a heavy trouble of 't ! 
 
 5 Cit. Assist ! hum ! — that is as much as to say, 
 Assist — or so 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 155 
 
 6 at. Ay, neighbour, ay ; 'tis plain. 
 
 5 at. Not so plain as you make it, neither. Give 
 me the pen ! I cannot write, but I can make a G for 
 John. 
 
 3 at. And I a K for Christopher. 
 
 6 at. I cannot read, but I can write — when I have 
 written it any one may read it ! [They all sulscrile. 
 
 [Nine others pass the stage. 
 2 at. Hoop, holiday ! What ! 's hell broke loose % 
 What are you % 
 
 Tai. Tailors, so please you, sir. 
 2 at. Oh ! tailors ! One man set his mark for you 
 all. 
 
 Phil. They look like honest men ! Come, gentle- 
 men ; subscribe, subscribe ! 
 
 [They all .subscribe. 
 
 Enter a seventh Citizen. 
 
 7 at. How now, my masters ? Shearing of hogs 1 
 All cry and no wool ? What 's the matter 1 
 
 2 at. Subscribe, subscribe ! 
 
 Phil. Nothing but set your hand to petition. 
 7 at. For aught I know, it may be treason twenty 
 years hence. Not I, beloved ! 
 
 3 at. Not you 1 Why not you ? — will you be wiser 
 than the best o' th' parish ? 
 
 4 at. And city too — will you 1 
 
 2 at. Show him the President's hand there. 
 
 7 at. Oho! I'm satisfied. 
 
 Phil. Come, come ; subscribe ! [He subscribes. 
 
 2 at. Eut, hark you ! how shall we get this pre- 
 sented 1 
 
 Phil. The President's an honefet gentleman, and 
 loves the city : I hope he will do 't. 
 
 2 at. Away, away ! let 's to him ! 
 
 Omnes. Ay — ay — ay ! 
 
 Fid. Please your worships to remember the music ! 
 
 5 at. Music, you rogue ! I 'd have made better upon 
 a gridiron ! 
 
 1 at: Or I with a key and tongs. 
 
156 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 2 at Hang 'um — hang 'um ! we have done with 
 'urn! 
 
 Phil. There, sirrah ! [Gives him money. 
 
 Fid. I thank your worship. 
 
 3 at. Hold, hold ! let him do somewhat for his 
 money before he goes. Has he subscribed *? 
 
 4, 5, 6 at. No — no — no; he has not yet, but he 
 shall. 
 
 Fid. "What your worships please. — [Subscribes.'] — Is 
 there any more 1 
 
 4, 5, 6 Git. No — no — ^no ! enough, enough, good Mr. 
 Scraper. [Exeunt, reeling. 
 
 Act III. — Scene i. 
 
 Enter Andronicus, solus. 
 
 And. It hits, and now my work's as good as done ; 
 But I must cast more blinds, for fear it be 
 Too soon discover'd. One would not tliink how 't 
 
 takes 
 That I have added fifty friars to pray 
 For the curst soul of Manuel ! " See his revenge, 
 Good prince !" the people cry. 'Twas necessary. 
 Nothing established Caesar s statues more 
 Than re-erecting those of conquer'cl Pompey ! 
 I must yet farther be their advocate 
 For liberty against restrictive laws, 
 And make whatever' s their concernment mine. 
 Thus shall I steal the power, and the dull beast 
 Not dream it lost until it feel where 'tis. 
 Then 'twill be time, and not till then, to hew 
 Th' imperial cedar, and stop the people's mouths 
 With a few sticks and chips — 'twill warm their hands 
 When t' other is forgot ! The dog that fought 
 To save his master's wallet, when he could not M 
 
 Defend it longer, ate for company ; ^3 
 
 And so will they. If not, necessity, 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 157 
 
 That has no law herself, shall coin one for it ! 
 All tilings are lawful to their end : that war 
 Is just that's necessary, and those arms religious 
 Where a man cannot well be safe without them. 
 Then shall I triumph, when I make the Empire 
 Shrink at my weight and truckle under me, 
 Trample the world, and frighten fate to feel 
 A thread so stubborn as to twist her wheel ! 
 
 Enter Stephanus. 
 
 How fares my lov'd Stephanus ? 
 
 Ste. As ever ; 
 
 Your highness' vassal. 
 
 And. Fie, my friend ! we're one ! 
 
 How does our friend Basilius ^ 
 
 Ste. He's well, 
 
 And better employ'd. 
 • And. As how 1 
 
 Ste. He's with his cousin, 
 
 A cunning sophister, that always followed 
 The rising sun ! He now begins to find 
 It may be lawful. Give him but your hand 
 He shall be patriarch ; my life ! he brings 
 A text to make it out ! 
 
 And. So ; ply him there. 
 
 And put it to him what he thinks if an oath 
 Of being true and faithful to Alexius 
 Were set on foot. 'Twould be a handsome cloak ! 
 
 Ste. But do more hurt than good ; for, if you add 
 His successors, — as I believe you mean, — 
 We shall be ripe too soon, and easy smok'd ! 
 
 And. Why ^ I shall be his successor, and then 
 The oath will reach to me. 
 
 Ste. That will be nothing, 
 
 Nor stand you much in stead. Suppose you were 
 Now Emperor, and 'twere now put about. 
 You'd find few boggle at it but such as could 
 Do you no hurt. These oaths are dangerous things : 
 They conceal enemies and make no friends ! 
 One will be true enough without it j t' other 
 
158 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Will not regard it. He that's forced to take 
 An oath, straight makes a second not to keep it ! 
 You're only sure of him whom, by believing 
 To be what you would have him, you make so. 
 
 And. But yet the greater number wiU swallow it. 
 Oaths are the same to them as rattles to children ; 
 It makes the cheat pass easy — slide, as 'twere. 
 
 8te. Howe'er, 'tis ticklish. Some cur or other 
 May find it out, and bark, and all the rest 
 Open for company. Then we shall have 
 Nothing but jealousies, distrusts, and fears; 
 News upon news, petition on petition ; 
 Laws, liberties, religion, all at stake, 
 And will be lost, unless these geese, forsooth, 
 Cackle, and save the capitol ! 
 
 And. Honest Stephanus ! 
 
 [Hugs him. 
 
 Sfe. Your actions will be table-talk ; disputed 
 In barbers' shops and bakehouses ; each slip 
 Be made a fault, and every fault a crime ! 
 Then shall your oath be brought upon the rack — - 
 Whether 'twere lawfully imposed, or you 
 Capable of receiving it ; or, if so, 
 How far it binds. " No faith with tyrants !" says one. 
 " With robbers ! " another cries. And then, how easy 
 'Twill be to make you one or both, especially 
 When they that give the sentence make the case, 
 I leave it to your highness. 
 
 And. My best friend ! 
 
 \_Hugs him again. 
 But somewhat must be done to blind the people. 
 
 Ste. Keep them but moving, they will ne'er mind 
 you; 
 Do you but shake the tree, they'll pick the fruit, 
 And busy enough I But lest, when all is gone, 
 They should look up to see who 'twas that did it, 
 You must provide your mask ; and of this kind — 
 None better than religion ! Your highness 
 Knows how to wear it to the best advantage. 
 'Tis a rare servant, but a scurvy master ! 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 159 
 
 And. Then you think best to let alone the oath — 
 At least not press it 1 
 
 Ste. Yes ; by any means — 
 
 You'll find an hundred safer ways. 
 
 And. We'll talk the rest within. These giddy fools 
 Are hunting out Basilius, and may chance 
 To 'light on me too soon ! 
 
 Ste. I wait your highness ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Enter Philo and Citizens. 
 
 Fhil. How say you, my masters 1 Who shall make 
 the speech ? 
 • So many of us, and not one gifted brother 1 
 
 2 at. Time was I could have done my part. The 
 Prince — 
 
 And no disparagement — might have heard it too. 
 Phil. And ne'er the wiser. [Aside. 
 
 3 Cit. Troth, my pump is dry ! 
 Phil. This is your drinking — I have often told you. 
 1 at. Have but a little patience ! Yonder's one 
 
 Will end the controversy ! Do but observe 
 
 How hard he wrings and squeezes. Somewhat's 
 
 coming ! 
 Fhil. What ! — he with that parenthesis about his 
 
 mouth 1 
 By no means, gentlemen ; 'tis ominous — 
 Whatever comes between 't may be left out ! 
 
 4 at. Tm satisfied ; 'tis but a good speech lost ! 
 Good master Philo, be that office yours. 
 
 Omnes. A Philo !— A Philo !— Philo !— Philo ! 
 Fhil. Ay, now the matter 's mended. 
 Omnes. Give 't him — give 't him ! 
 
 [^They give him the ^petition. 
 Fhil. Well, if I must, what remedy 1 
 Omnes. He comes ! 
 
160 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Enter Basilius. 
 
 Phil. Save you, most worthy sir ! I am commanded 
 By the inhabitants and citizens 
 Of this great city to present you this, 
 And beg your favour and assistance in 't. 
 
 \_Delivers the roll. Basilius reads to himself. 
 
 1 at. Hang the rogue, how he trowls it out ! 
 
 2 at. His tongue runs on wheels ! 
 
 Bas. In troth, my masters, 'tis a noble thing, 
 And well advis'd — nay, and becoming men 
 That love their country ! But I'm half afraid 
 He'll not accept it ; he's so humble-minded. 
 You'll hardly draw him to 't ! Howe'er, I'll try. 
 
 Omnes. We thank your honour. 
 
 1 at. I hope you will prevail. 
 
 2 at. I should be sorry else. 
 
 5 at So should I that e'er I set my hand to 't. 
 
 Enter Andronicus. 
 
 Phil. Stand off ! he comes himself ! 
 Long live your highness ! 
 
 Omnes. Long live the founder of our liberty ! ' 
 
 And. I thank you, gentlemen. But may I serve you? 
 
 Omnes. Long live the public Father ! — Live An- 
 dronicus ! 
 
 Bas. My lord, these gentlemen — ^both in their own 
 And friends' behalf — have made me promise them 
 That I'd present you this — \_delivers the roll.'] — Nor must 
 
 your highness 
 Make me denial. Their request is short, — 
 That you'd be pleas'd to ease Alexius' years 
 By bearing half the burden of the crown. 
 Nor do I think you will disdain a part. 
 Though you deserve the whole. And thus, of old, 
 The Eoman Senate to Marcellus join'd 
 Delaying Fabius * — age and youth together — 
 A wholesome mixture, where the one brought eyes. 
 The other hands — this, action ; he, advice ! 
 * Fabius, Cunctator. 
 
 1 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 161 
 
 Thus must the body of the Grecian State 
 Be wisely temper'd, lest we rue 't too late ! 
 
 And. What kind of voice is this I hear ? My frieads 
 Either forget, or know not what they ask. 
 Joint Emperor ! Were there no treason in 't, 
 I must not hearken to 't ! Who would be clogg'd 
 With gyves, though made of gold? — for such are 
 
 crowns — 
 Or stoop to take one up that knew the weight of 't % 
 Crowns are thick set with cares — for every gem 
 An hundred doubts and troubles ! Nor are their 
 
 ermine 
 More spotted than their fate -, whilst privacy 
 Lies low, 'tis true, but yet that low is safe. 
 Thunder ploughs up the hills when valleys 'scape, 
 And rives tall cedars when the shrubs go free ! 
 Sleep dwells in cottages, not thrones — content 
 In humble cells ; whilst greatness is at odds 
 With everything, nay, and itself to boot ! 
 Let others grasp at all, and by great pains 
 Aspire to greater ! Let them vex the world ; 
 They but disquiet themselves. He only lives 
 That's beneath envy and above contempt. 
 Be it enough that I have served my country 
 Thus long ; that I have freed her from the yoke ; 
 Broke all her fetters ! You have had my youth j 
 Let me enjoy my age ! 'Twere too severe 
 To have had one and yet deny me t' other. 
 
 Phil. That was well hinted, master. Excellent fox ! 
 
 \_Aside. 
 
 Omnes. Andronicus ! Andronicus ! Long live An- 
 dronicus ! 
 
 5 at. We've brought ourselves into a dainty noose. 
 
 1 at Good sir, persuade him ! 
 
 Bas. I must not leave your highness so. 
 Whom can Greece think more worthy than yourself? 
 Where should she pay most but where most is owing"? 
 Let me prevail, my lord ! This day shall be 
 Writ in a scarlet text, since hence we date 
 The happiness and new birthday of the State ! 
 L 
 
162 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 And. 'Tis strange, my friends, that you should press 
 me thus, 
 And put my modesty to a blush ! Can Greece 
 So far forget herself? — can Greece, so full 
 Of able Statesmen^ Greece o'ershoot herself 1 
 Who hath bewitcht thee ? With what spectacles 
 Didst thou look on my merit, that th' 'ast made 
 So fair a letter in so small a print 1 
 Andronicus deserve a crown ! Alas ! 
 Greece is mistook ! I have one foot i' th' grave ; 
 And can you think it sightly to behold 
 The other in a throne % No ! Graves and thrones 
 Hold least proportion. You say you love me ! 
 Show 't now, and dazzle not those eyes again 
 Which I thought shut to vanity. I am 
 Content, and what can Providence add more % 
 Not that I tell you this as I were lazy. 
 Or sullen, or refus'd to serve my country ! 
 Far be it from me ! No — we were not born 
 To live like hedgehogs, roll'd in our own down. 
 And turn out bristles to all the world besides : 
 Yet must we die t' ourselves ; and so let me. 
 Whose age may challenge a writ of ease, and crave 
 Leave of the world to let me mind my grave ! 
 
 Omnes. Andronicus ! Andronicus ! Long live An- 
 dronicus ! 
 
 Ph. 'Tis all in vain to press him now. We'll find 
 Some other time, when he shall not deny us. 
 
 \Exeunt with a shout. Manet Andronicus. 
 
 And. What is this giddy multitude % — this beast 
 Of many heads % — this thing vox populi ? 
 It can do all — as much or more than fate : 
 Raise and pull down, make and annihilate ! 
 Yet see, how easy 'tis to cast a gloss 
 Before those vulgar eyes — those leaden souls 
 Begotten in a dream ! Ex traduce — 
 How natural is it for fire to climb ! 
 And could they think a man — nay, more, a Prince — 
 Born near a crown, of such a frozen spirit 
 That Empire could not thaw 1 Come, come ! I must 
 
 1 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 163 
 
 Play my cards handsomely ; and though I yield — 
 
 As who would not 1 — make them believe it is 
 
 Through importunity, not my desire ! 
 
 I'll slip the vizard first, then let it hang 
 
 Till it fall off of 'tself ! Thus, while they woo, 
 
 I'll have my ends, and they beholding, too ! [Exit 
 
 Scene hi. 
 Enter Conto, Lapardas, and DucAS. 
 
 Conf. Observ'd you not the tumult? I've scarce heard 
 A fuller cry ! I wonder what it means ! 
 
 La. Where has your lordship been 1 — nothing, but 
 treason, 
 Is more familiar ! 'Tis a petition 
 To have Andronicus joint Emperor ! 
 
 Eu. And backt, they say, with twenty thousand hands, 
 Besides some great ones ! But, to give him's due. 
 He has refus'd it. If he ha'n't, I'll swear 
 Mamalus was a witch ! 
 
 Conf. Why, what of him ? 
 
 La. His name slipt from me unawares. Good faith, 
 He guess'd at this, unluckily, long since ! 
 But make no words of 't ; it may do him wrong. 
 
 Coni 'Tis spoken to a stone ; yet, troth, I'm glad 
 He has denied it. Say he should be honest 1 
 
 Eu. I cannot see his drifts. Would he have took it, 
 ' He might have had it now ere it took air, 
 And we in no condition to prevent it. 
 
 La. What say you if we went and waited on him. 
 Took notice of the thing, and thankt his virtue ? 
 
 Cont. I like it well ! 
 
 Eu. Then let us not delay it ! 
 
 \_As they are going out they are met and stopf by 
 Maria, Constantinus, aiid Mamalus. 
 
 Mar. My lords, well met ! But whither 1 You are 
 posting 
 Who shall be first to kiss the rising sun 1 
 
164 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 La. No, no; there's nothing in 't. Besides, you, 
 madam, 
 Know we've his honour and his oath engag'd ! 
 
 Mar. Oh ! w' hear you have ! And yet I'll scarce 
 believe. 
 Though I have reason to suspect, he'll break them ! 
 
 Du. There is hope yet — he has refus'd the offer ! 
 
 Mam. To make them hotter on 't. Good gentleman, 
 He's modest, and may chance to want entreaty. 
 
 Const. Perhaps the cry was faint and weak ! There 
 wanted 
 More curs to yelp, and hounds to mouth it out ! 
 It was some time before he join'd with us ; 
 But yet at last you saw 
 
 Mam. I fear me, more 
 
 Than you'll be fairly rid on. Enemies 
 Are ten times easier kept out than thrown out ! ^ 
 
 Mar. But had this rabble no head'? He is too 
 cunning 
 To trust a giddy multitude ! 
 
 Const, They say 
 
 It was the city president ! 
 
 Cont. Most likely- 
 
 He's one that would be great, at any rate. 
 
 Const Ay, here's the hand, but where's the spring 
 that moves it % 
 
 Mam. The cobweb doth not cover the spider so 
 But I can see him work. Tliis must be old 
 Basilius ; I trace him by his cousin ! 
 They two are hand and glove ; only, one acts 
 What t'other's asham'd to own ! That holy men 
 Must, like the holy language, be thus read backward ! 
 
 Mar. But what would make him do 't 1 I'm sure 
 my father 
 Preferr'd him well ! 
 
 Mam. But can he make him Patriarch 1 
 You'll say he's dead, and can't ; then blame him not 
 To strike up interest with him that may. 
 T'other's forgot. Besides, ambitious men. 
 When they stand still, fancy they're going back. 
 
 I 
 
 J 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 165 
 
 Thus, much he has already only tells him 
 
 How much more's wanting ; and what was a sum 
 
 In the desire, enjoy'd is but a cipher ! 
 
 Mar. Prithee, Mamalus, do not draw the devil 
 More ugly than he is ! 
 
 Mam. Nor you, good madam. 
 
 Believe him fairer ! Don't we know the tree 
 By its fruit, and judge of men by actions. 
 Not fair pretences'? You forget our proverb — 
 Remember to distrust ! This easy faith 
 Has done more mischief than it e'er did good. 
 
 La. Had we believ'd your words, this had ne'er been. 
 
 Mam. As how, my leaky lord ] These bor'd barrels ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 La. Nay, be not angry, man ! We are all friends, 
 And may be free ! We'll live and die together ! 
 
 Mar. No heats among ourselves, good gentlemen ! 
 [Andronicus from hehind the hangings. 
 
 And. Yonder they are, i'faith ! I'll stumble on them ! 
 Now for a neat disguise, and all's my own ! 
 
 [A shout within. 
 
 Mar. Hark ! hark ! What's this 1 
 
 Mam. Ev'n the old rout again ! 
 This will be somewhat at last, or I'm mistaken ! 
 
 Enter Andronicus, as angry, and speaking to 
 some within. 
 
 And. Plague of these fools, and those that set them 
 on ! 
 What do they trouble me 1 Tell them I cannot, 
 Or if I could I would not ! Have they none 
 To bait but me 1 
 
 Mar. Save your good majesty ! 
 
 And. My friends, and all ! Is this the thanks you 
 give me ? — 
 This the reward I have *? Who but a madman 
 Would serve his country 1 Who would warm a snake 
 That knew its nature 1 For such 'tis to me ! 
 Was 't your design, when first you call'd me home, 
 To make me miserable that made you happy 1 
 
166 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Who courted you 1 Did 1 1 No ! Heaven knows 
 
 'Twas otherwise ! If not, you, madam, can 
 
 Be my compurgatrix. Nor think it strange 
 
 I talk this rate. Your ugly jealousy, 
 
 As closely as you carry 't, is cause enough. 
 
 Nay, I am right — I found it in your looks 
 
 Before this lady spake it. Is 't my crime 
 
 The people's mad 1 — or must my innocence 
 
 Suffer because they know not what they would 1 
 
 You'll say, perhaps, I have been offer'd Empire ! 
 
 But have I took it 1 That I might have been. 
 
 And am not, judge yourselves whether it speaks 
 
 My virtue more or your ingratitude. 
 
 Would he that told the people's heat had told you 
 
 My frosty answer : that had done me right 1 
 
 But now I see good deeds are writ in ice, 
 
 And the least groundless jealousy in steel. 
 
 Let me remember once — but to forget it 
 
 Ever hereafter — I have serv'd you truly, 
 
 Done myself injury to be kind to you. 
 
 And wrought my own disquiet to lighten yours. 
 
 You know necessity first made me arm ; 
 
 And, by whatever's good, there's nothing less 
 
 Shall make me keep it up 1 Then doubt not him 
 
 Whom you have tried. Could you believe I would 1 
 
 Certain you could not ! 
 
 La. My lord, I'm satisfied; and thank your highness 
 You took the pains to do 't 
 
 Crnit. The same am I. 
 
 Omnes. And all of us. [Ma^l^lus skews his lip. 
 
 And. Then pray continue so 
 
 Until you find me otherwise. 
 
 Omnes. We shall. 
 
 Your highness. [Exeunt 
 
 And. Madam, 111 wait on you ; 
 But I must chide you first ! You've been unkind ; 
 Good faith, you have. Distrust a friend 1 Nay, one 
 You knew so long, and might so well command I 
 I ha'n't deserv'd it. 
 
 Mar. Good my lord, forgive me ! 
 
ANDROXICUS COMNENIUS. 167 
 
 I lov'd my brother well, and was afraid 
 What such a tumult might 
 
 And. Hang them ! D'you tliink 
 
 I'd ruin what you, the glory of your sex, 
 Took so much pains to save % 
 
 Mar. Nay, good my lord ! 
 
 And. I'm yet too low. Th' 'ast a brave noble soul. 
 And such as might redeem a perisht world, 
 But that 'tis done already. 
 
 Mar. Nay — now — my lord ! 
 
 And. I've done ! But shall I never see the noble 
 Csesar, 
 Your husband, here 1 I'm sure the Empire wants him ! 
 
 Mar. I would you could, but I'm afraid you won't ; 
 His ague hath so shaken him in pieces ! 
 
 Aiid. I'm sorry for 't. He ne'er was well together. 
 
 [Aside. 
 He has my prayers and wishes. 
 
 Mar, Thank your lordship. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene iy. 
 Enter Manuel and Philo. 
 
 Man. But tell me, Philo — prithee, tell me how 
 Thou cam'st in this great credit with my father % 
 
 Phil. Oh, sir, I've been his servant many years. 
 He bred me from a boy to what you see — 
 Trust and employment can do mighty things ! 
 
 Man. How gatst th' into that trust ? 
 
 Phil. As other men : 
 
 By seeming fool, yet such a one as might be 
 Fit matter for the knave ; by bearing injuries, 
 And thanking them — at least, dissembling — 
 Till I had power to act a safe revenge. 
 
 Man. Suppose that never came % 
 
 Phil. Then I forgave them. 
 
 Man. I see th' 'ast studied the point. Prithee, 
 teach me 
 
168 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Some of those little arts. 
 
 Phil Call you them little % 
 
 As little as they are, they govern the world. 
 
 Man. 'Tis well 'tis ignorant how little governs it. 
 But on ! 
 
 Phil. Since 'tis your pleasure, I shall. Who would 
 Grow to an oak, he must be first a twig. 
 Supple and pliant, bow with every wind ; 
 He's long a growing up, but sure to stand 
 When t'other shows his roots. He must speak well 
 Of all in place, no matter what they are — 
 It is enough they're there. 
 
 Nature ne'er made so great a beast but somewhat 
 Might be said for it. Is the subject dirty ? — 
 Wrap 't in clean linen. For example, now — 
 Is he a downright fool 1 — call him good-natur'd. 
 A babbler, sociable ; a railler, witty ; 
 If scoffing, pleasant ; if malicious, subtle ; 
 If vicious, affable ; if foolhardy, daring : 
 If given to ribaldry, a merry gentleman ; 
 All noise, a learned man ; if he says nothing, 
 He thinks the more, and has a working brain ; 
 If impudent, a handsome confidence ! 
 They're very near allied, and only differ 
 I' the success. Is he thick-skulled and stupid ? — 
 A modest man, and has an excellent wit. 
 But an odd art of keeping 't to himself. 
 What though the shop be thin? — the warehouse 
 
 has 't. 
 Has he the Statesman's tread 1 — a wise man, no doubt. 
 If we perceive a river run dark and slow, 
 We straight pronounce it deep, and ne'er examine 
 Whether the mud at bottom be the cause. 
 Is he all apophthegm 1 — a shrewd man. 
 What matter though he want a trifling circumstance 
 Of sense and pertinence- — what's that to us % 
 What hurt's in all this ? Do not we call 
 Our pretty ladies civil obliging women ? 
 And shall we be less modest to their husbands '? 
 
 Man. How have I liv'd i' th' dark ! I always call'd 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 169 
 
 A spade a spade ; but now I see my knave's 
 Your thriving man. 
 
 PML Believe them what you please, 
 
 But treat them like honest men — t'other's so broad. 
 And what's your lordship better when you've done 't ? 
 They know 't as well as you. 
 
 Man. Th' art a rare fellow ! 
 
 Thou that hast this hast mora 
 
 Phil. Why, troth, not much ! 
 
 He must swear everything, and, if need be, 
 Forswear 't again ; but still beware it be 
 Done with a tenderness. He must own nothing 
 Laid by, nor boggle at anything cried up ; 
 And for his conscience, he must split the hair 
 'Twixt techy and prostitute. The one 
 Flies in his face, the other makes him cheap. 
 Lastly, for his religion, since 'tis necessary 
 He have a show at least, chuse 't, as men bells, 
 By the sound, or we our magistrates, by th' poll. 
 
 Man. But does the world do this ? 
 
 Phil. How think you, sir 1 
 
 Do they eat, drink, or sleep ? 
 
 Man. Wherever I come 
 
 I find it damn'd ! 
 
 Phil. And reason good. The people 
 
 May chance to smoke it else. Who first discover'd it 
 Put teeth in the sheeps' mouths ! You cannot fleece 
 
 them 
 Now but they'll bite ! No ! he must still decry it ; 
 But to believe liimself, not worth his while. 
 
 Man. And dost not thou^ What pity 'tis these parts 
 Should be thus lost in low, ignoble arts !— 
 Such little nothings ! Leave them — I'll prefer thee ! 
 
 Phil. Defend me from a lecture ! — [Aside.'] — 'Tis no 
 more 
 Than what my betters have done, and thriv'd by, too. 
 
 Man. Yet, let me beg thee, leave it. What is got 
 By such base means is but an empty blaze — 
 Crackles a while in talk, but quickly gone ! 
 'Tis not too late for to be virtuous yet. 
 
170 ANDRONICUS COMNENIirs. 
 
 What's done already may have rather been 
 The vice of thy employment than thy nature. 
 What say'st thou, man 1 
 
 Phil. I was ne'er obstinate. 
 
 Man. Let me instruct thee, then. And yet, Heav'n 
 knows, 
 How much I want myself, yet I may serve 
 To light a candle to thee. Couldst thou but see 
 What virtue were, thou wouldst prevent my wish. 
 Tis a continual spring and harvest both — 
 Bears fruits and blossoms, sows and reaps at once, 
 So quick is the return, and certain, too ! 
 And as in equal temperatures the pulse 
 Beats true and even, so here she's still the same — 
 Not swol'n with good things nor cast down with bad ; 
 Free, without cheapness ; composed, without formality ; 
 Calm, without dulness ; active, without weariness ; 
 And, in the want of everything, is all ! 
 How sayest thou, Philo 1 Wilt thou have her, man 1 
 
 Phil. ISi o ready money, sir '? Half one, half t' other. 
 Were somewhat like. I hearken to your lordship. 
 
 Man. Whose are the quiet sleeps but the virtuous 1 
 Who valiant but they 1 — not brutish valour. 
 But such as dare die in cold blood. 
 Who honourable but they 1 Honour, without virtue. 
 Is what the people pleases, not our own. 
 Who are religious but they "? Without it, 
 Religion's but a soul without a body, 
 A painted butterfly, a specious nothing ; 
 Whilst join'd, they make a perfect harmony. 
 This is a virtuous man — fear neither drives him 
 Nor favour draws aside ; he values not 
 The curled wrinkles of a tyrant's brow ; 
 He's still serene, and tires as well the wit 
 As power of torture, and enjoys them too. 
 Such is his man's estate ; and when old age 
 Has seized the outworks, he's secure within, 
 And is so far from wishing youth again, 
 He's only sorry that he e'er was young ! 
 Come, I must make thee virtuous ! Follow me ! [Exit. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 171 
 
 Phil. I cannot tell, 
 
 [As he is going out Philo speaks aside. 
 But I half doubt myself. 
 
 One such a lecture more, — and good night, master ! 
 Farewell, good, honest Philo ! — How it sounds ! 
 
 [He startles. 
 Had I a puling gizzard now, 'twere done ; 
 But — soft and fair goes far. \_Exit. 
 
 Scene v. 
 
 Enter Andronicus, Stephanus, and Basilius. 
 
 Shouts within. 
 
 And. What would you have me do 1 
 
 Ste. Troth, play no longer ! — 
 
 Pardon the language, — they are all agog. 
 And may do mischief 
 
 Bas. If you slip this minute, 
 
 You may wait long enough ere you get another. 
 If once they settle, all our labour 's lost — 
 They'll understand themselves. Besides, you're gone 
 Too far to go no farther. 
 
 And. You mistake me ; 
 
 I am resolved upon it. What before 
 Look'd like ambition is but safety now. 
 I only stop'd awhile, as doubting whether 
 'Twere fit t' accept it yet. 
 
 Ste. What said the Lords 1 
 
 And. Most satisfied ; only Mamalus's face 
 Spake more than his tongue durst. 
 
 Bas. Puh ! he's but one, 
 
 And may be made ; at least be taken off, 
 By the old way — preferment, or his head. 
 
 And. But there are others, and not least concern'd. — 
 The sober party, that have stakes to lose. 
 The age is too refined for men to walk 
 Invisible. They ha'n't been dealt with yet. 
 
 Ste. 'Tis one o' th' greatest follies in the world 
 
172 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 For to believe the world wiser than 'tis. 
 Call me a junto ! They shall do it for you ! 
 You'll ne'er want men until you want preferment. 
 
 And. That were to let them see I needed them — 
 Put a sword in their hands, and make myself 
 Less than I am, them more than they should. 
 
 Bas. How will y' avoid it ? There is no other way 
 To fix and settle. Then you'll plead consent ; 
 Nor will it be difficult to bring them to 't. 
 The people are like sheep — 'tis better driving 
 A flock than one. 
 
 And. But say they should prove sullen 1 — 
 
 Unravel my title 1 
 
 Ste. You must venture that ; 
 
 'Tis easy turning them to grass again. 
 By all means let them meet, though they do nothing 
 But set the rates of tripes and pudding pies. 
 
 And. Well, be it so. And now, my friend, you may 
 Rally your rabble-regiment again ! 
 Tell them — I accept it. [Exit Basilius. 
 
 Ste. ril secure your highness 
 
 They shall not squabble for want of work 1 Myself 
 Has cut out more than they'll make up in haste. 
 Nor shall their speed be more than we think good ; 
 Whilst, though wise men propose, fools must debate it. 
 
 [Shout within, 
 hugs Mm.'\— 
 Let's keep here. 
 All will be well enough ! And though I cannot 
 Make the deaf adder hear, I'll be sure this— 
 To charm him so, he shall not dare to hiss ! [Exeunt. 
 [Shouts imthin, p'oclaiming Andronicus. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 173 
 
 Act IV. — Scene i. 
 Enter Alexius and Andronicus. 
 
 Alex. No longer cousin now, but dearest brother, 
 You're welcome to a burthen, and I'm glad 
 I've got so good a partner in the throne ! 
 
 And. Great sir, I thank you, and — have been so 
 used 
 To downright honesty — I believe you too ! 
 It is enough to me that I'm your servant, 
 The partner of your cares and not your throne ! 
 Yet who'd be great, when at the best 'tis but 
 A better sort of slavery, a handsome gaol. 
 And — what the worst of gaols is free from — envied 1 
 Could you believe that in this Httle time 
 I should be struck at, and through your sides too % 
 What is my fault % If to have done them good 
 Be such, 'tis mine. If to have broke my rest. 
 That they might sleep secure, be crime, I'm guilty. 
 
 Alex. Alas ! I'm sorry for 't, and cannot yet 
 Conjecture what you mean. 
 
 And. Please you, read this. 
 
 [Andronicus gives him a paper. 
 
 Alex. How's this 1 
 
 Belgrade betrayed unto the King of Hungary ? 
 
 And. It should have been ; and had not I stalk'd 
 with them, 
 It had been now too late to ask whose work 'twas. 
 
 Alex. What are the persons? They must be con- 
 siderable. 
 
 And. And so they are. 
 
 Alex. But have you taken any 1 
 
 And. Yes, divers j and on one a council of war 
 Has pass'd and sentenced. Please you, sign the war- 
 rant 1 
 
 Alex. Gi' me 't j and, lest relation may sway me, 
 I'll ne'er inquire the name. — [Signs z7.] — Yet let me 
 see 't ! 
 
174 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 How now ! — What's this "l — My mother Empress ? — 
 
 Hold! 
 Make me a Nero ? — Take away her life 
 That gave me mine 1 
 
 And. Have but a little patience, 
 
 And if I don't convince you, o' my honour 
 I'll give 't you back again. Consider it — 
 A frontier, a whole province in effect, 
 A little kingdom ! — All the fate of Greece 
 Attends its fortune. 
 
 Alex. But we have it still. 
 
 And. What matter is 't 1 Then you believe no 
 treason 
 Unless the Prince be kill'd 1 
 
 Alex. But 'tis my mother ! 
 
 And. Justice respects no persons, crowns, no 
 kindred ; 
 And fathers of their country know no mothers ! 
 
 Alex. As if one could not be a Prince unless 
 He put off man ! Come ; you are too severe ! 
 She is my mother ! — Let a cloister serve. 
 
 And. Severe 1 Know I'm joint Emperor, and can 
 Do it myself, but that I would not rob you 
 The glory of the action. This will break 
 The neck of treason, when the age shall see 
 Such signal justice done upon a mother. 
 
 Alex. That shall not I. 
 
 And. Then let the Empire sink ! 
 
 I'll never mind it more, nor break my sleep 
 To force a happiness on one that slights it ! 
 Here — take your paper ! but lest it be said 
 You did once well and straight repented it, 
 I thus dispose it. [Tears a wrong paper and hums it. 
 
 Alex. 'Tis all one. I thank you ! \_Exit. 
 
 And. 'Tis done ! and your game's next ! See — here's 
 the warrant ! 
 'Twas a wrong paper burnt ! What excellent mortar 
 Blood makes ! Eome batten'd in 't, and, from the ruins 
 Of Alba and the slaughter'd world, grew up 
 To what she was : and so must I the same. 
 
 \ 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 175 
 
 'Tis not enough that I'm got up myself, 
 
 But I must beat down others — level all 
 
 That stand before or near me ! I'm not safe 
 
 While young Alexius lives, or — which is worse — 
 
 Has a friend left him. He has many, and great ones, 
 
 And might be worth my fear could they but fix 
 
 Or know their strength. But there are only two 
 
 Considerable ; that's Constantinus and Mamalus — 
 
 Honest and able both. For all the rest. 
 
 Would all my friends were what they think themselves, 
 
 My enemies, what they are ! Yet, as they are. 
 
 They made me what I am, and may again 
 
 Crush me to nothing if I don't prevent them 
 
 By giving the first blow, and putting 't home ! 
 
 Thus, thus it must. Nor can I sleep secure 
 
 Till they have slept their last, and fall together 
 
 Wrapt in one common fate. None ever rack'd 
 
 A grave to find the man he fear'd or hated. 
 
 The rest mil follow. 'Tis but using well 
 
 The present time, and working on emergencies. 
 
 Things counsel men, and not men counsel things ! 
 
 Enter Manuel. 
 
 How now, my Manuel ? Thus you see my pains 
 To make you happy ! 
 
 Man. Would yourself were such ! 
 
 A7id. Small time will do 't — Rome was not built at 
 once ! 
 
 Man. And better she'd continued cottage still. 
 Than built on rapine, or enlarged with blood. 
 The tears of orphans and the curse of widows 
 Rot not i' th' air ! 
 
 And. Away, you fool ! The fox 
 
 Fares best when he is curst. 'Tis a sure sign 
 H' 'as done his work. But to be serious — Tell me 
 Whether a man may not preserve himself? 
 Or whether all things that are tending to 't 
 May not be lawful, at least excusable 1 
 
 Man. Thereafter, as they are ; though this I'll grant 
 you— 
 
176 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Peace without safety is a bare cessation, 
 No laying do^vn of arms. 
 
 And, Th"ast hit the nail ! 
 
 Come ! you must help me. See this executed ! 
 
 [Gives Manuel the warrant Manuel startles. 
 What makes you startle 1 Let me have it done ! 
 
 Man. Done ! Were I satisfied o' th' crime — which 
 yet, 
 The people say, was rather packt than proved, — 
 There's no such dearth of hangmen that your son 
 Need take the office. 
 
 And. Stranger to my blood, 
 
 And never true begot ! 
 
 Have I for this run through so many hazards 1 
 Ventured so far to make a villain great 
 That never had a soul above a dunghill 1 
 See it be done, and quickly ! or— — 
 
 Man. I cannot ; 
 
 And, which is more, I shall not ! Disobedience 
 Is virtue here. If you suspect my courage, 
 Try 't yet again. Show me your enemy. 
 And, were he guarded with ten thousand devils, 
 I'll through and through but I will reach his head. 
 Or lose my own ! But this — is such a thing. 
 Honour and conscience, justice, all forbid it ! 
 
 And. What are those private toys to me? Kings may 
 Do what they list. 
 
 Man. But can they do 't by law ? 
 
 Aiid. By law, you blockhead ! Doth not Justice sit 
 At Jupiter's elbow 1 What cannot power do. 
 And justify 't when done 1 He that can nothing 
 But what is lawful, reigns by courtesy. 
 Besides, what use of laws 1 Good kings may live 
 Without them ; bad ones will not much regard them. 
 Had Alexander squared his actions 
 By common justice, he had never wept 
 The want of worlds. Or had Eome giv'n back 
 To every one their own, how had she sate — 
 Like ^sop's jay — stript of her pilfer'd plumes, 
 And fairly march'd to her first huts again ! 
 
 I 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 177 
 
 Weigh crowns by th' balance, and you'll make fine 
 
 work ! 
 Preach laws to sword-men ! Out ! [Exit Manuel. 
 
 At another door, enter Stephanus. 
 
 This squeamish slave 
 
 Will be my ruin, and his own in mine ! 
 
 Welcome, my better self ! You must see this 
 
 [Andronicus gives Stephanus the warrant 
 for execution. 
 Despatch' d, and quickly ! If the people grumble, 
 Produce your warrant. Tell them how hard I stood 
 To have preserv'd her, but I could not do 't. 
 How says my Stephanus ? 
 
 Enter Philo. 
 
 Ste. I say — 'tis done ! 
 • And. 'Twas my good angel's voice. Good luck 
 attend it ! 
 
 [Exit Stephanus. 
 Now, honest Philo ! how goes your work on 1 
 
 Phil. As well as heart can wish — the stag is lodg'd, 
 And my hounds ready. 
 
 And. But dost know them well 1 
 
 Have they been enter' d, flush'd in blood before ? 
 I hate the fearful hands. 
 
 Phil. Ne'er doubt them, sir. 
 
 There's not a man among them but has been 
 Kick'd out of all the sanctuaries in Europe. 
 Whoever speaks of young Alexius next 
 Shall only say. He was ! 
 
 And. 'Twas bravely said ! 
 
 Come — we have more to do ! [Exeunt. 
 
178 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Enter Conto, Lapardus, Ducas, Constantinus, 
 and Mamalus. 
 
 Cont. We have done well, my lords ; we've made a 
 rod 
 To whip ourselves ! Right ^sop's frogs, i' faith ! 
 We must be changing ! Nay ; 'tis well enough. 
 
 Lajp. For why, my lord? I'm sure my thoughts 
 were clear 
 As spotless crystal ! Could I conceive one drop 
 Of blood within me traitorous, it should out, 
 Though 'twere that next my heart ! 
 
 Du. The same were mine ! 
 
 I only meant to use him as a purge 
 To carry ill humours, not our spirits, off. 
 
 Const. A fit comparison ! We're purg'd indeed — 
 The remedy proves worse than the disease ! 
 
 Mam. Ay ; you o'ershot the mark ! Ere he came in 
 He was your creature, but your master now. 
 
 Const. Where is this perjur'd villain 1 Sure he be- 
 lieves 
 The bottomless bag — that lovers' and traitors' oaths 
 Are lodged together ! — [Shouts.'] — The devil 's in this 
 
 rout ! — 
 More shouting yet 1 
 
 Lap. And more is like to be. 
 
 'Tis thought when fuel fails, they'll pluck down 
 
 houses 
 To keep the bonfires up ! Did not your lordship 
 See the instalment 1 
 
 Const. No ; but I have heard 
 
 'Twas very splendid. 
 
 Cont. Yes ; as art could make it. 
 
 Mam. So 't should ; the trappings of the President's 
 horse 
 Is more than half i' th' government o' th' city. 
 
 Const. But have you seen no public acts of late ? 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 179 
 
 The -sdzard is half off, the names transpos'd — 
 Andronicus first, and then Alexius ! 
 
 Mam. And reason good. Should not the figure 
 stand 
 Before the cipher 1 Caesar and Bibulus ! 
 One does all, t'other drinks all ! 
 
 Lap. Could he yet stop, 
 
 There might be hopes. 
 
 Mam. Small hopes. Ambition 
 
 Is ne'er so high but she still thinks to mount. 
 That station, which lately seem'd the top. 
 Is but a step to her now ; and what before 
 Was even beyond her wish, being once in power. 
 Seems low and cheap. If I mistake it not, 
 The Emperor yet lives ; and though he is 
 But the bare shadow of a swelling name. 
 Can you believe Andronicus will brook 
 An equal in authority 1 Is Andronicus 
 No better known 1 Well, my good lords, what say 
 
 you? 
 Please you to give me leave, and I'll propose 
 A short expedient 1 
 
 Omnes. With all our hearts ! 
 
 Mam. And you engage, however you dislike it, 
 Not to discourse 't abroad % 
 
 Omnes. Upon our honours ! 
 
 Mam. Then thus: He's yet unsettled. Heavy bodies, 
 Once mov'd, retain a trembling ere they fix. 
 So here. The Empire's in a strange confusion, 
 And 'tis his interest to keep it so. 
 Now what I offer is this — that every one 
 Pick out his faction, and oblige it to him. 
 Get but so far into them as to please them. 
 You have 'm sure enough. The power to raise them 
 Follows of course. Then shall we fall upon him 
 Ere he have time to think, and break his neck 
 By the same hand that set it ! 
 
 Const. I like it well ; 
 
 But cannot judge it safe to trust a tumult 
 Unless we had a body to make a stand. 
 
180 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Mam. Nor will we want it — we'll but use the people 
 As a forlorn. And for the rest, what think you 
 Of Stephanus % I'll pawn my head I make him. 
 
 Const. Impossible ! He was the chiefest person 
 Set t'other up. 
 
 Mam. But what has he done for him ? 
 
 He's but the same he was ; and, which makes for us, 
 Has equals, if not superiors, in favour. 
 I know his spirit can never brook it long. 
 Do you but give the word, I'll run the hazard. 
 
 Const. How say ye, my lords ? 
 
 Omnes. Worthy Mamalus, 
 
 You have our hearts, and thanks, and wishes to 't ! 
 
 Ente7^ Maria, as in haste. 
 
 Const. See ! here's more news ! I do not like the 
 haste. 
 
 Mar. Help ! help ! my lords ! — The Emperor and 's 
 mother ! 
 
 Omnes. What of them ? 
 
 Mar. Oh ! dead ! dead ! dead ! — Murder'd 1 
 
 That ever earth should bear so curst a traitor ! — 
 Such a false, treacherous, perfidious slave ! 
 And, which is worse than all, the people cry 
 A judgment on him for his mother's death ! 
 
 Const. How ! — what's all this 1 Good madam, divide 
 jouT grief. 
 And let us bear a part ! 
 
 Mar. I know not what 'tis — 
 
 Eeports are various ; but they say he sign'd 
 A warrant for his mother's execution 
 For a suppos'd betraying of Belgrade, 
 And since has broke his neck by a fall from 's horse 
 As he was hunting ! There are others, again. 
 Say he was bow-string'd ! Oh ! this curs'd string, 
 That murders more than e'er the bow kill'd fairly ! 
 That I could see him yet ! 
 
 Then thus I throw off woman, and bury my tears 
 In my revenge ! Come, lords ! Let 't ne'er be said 
 There's nothing left us of our former greatness 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 18l 
 
 But fame and ruin ! Let it ne'er be spoke, 
 Greece is grown barbarous, and the merry Greek 
 Has drown'd the valiant ! 
 
 Const. Most excellent madam ! 
 
 Mar. Come, let's forgive — ourselves, I mean — that 
 crime 
 Of ignorance and well-meaning. We that were 
 The stairs that helpt him up, our backs the steps 
 By which he climb'd, how are we trampled on ! 
 Come, come, my lords ! 'Tis time we look about us, 
 And ward the threat'ning blow ! Let's but agree, 
 And our work's done ! The tortoise is secure 
 Within her shell ; if any part lie out, 
 It dangers all the rest ! What says Mamalus 1 
 
 Mam. What ! But that he owes 
 Himself and his unto your higliness' courage ! 
 We had half drove the nail ere you came in ; 
 But now 'tis riveted ! There remains nothingr 
 But that we thank your highness, and keep to it. 
 
 Const. Well mov'd ! Let's on ! 
 
 Mar. Do ! and you'll find the lion 
 
 Is not so terrible as the painter makes him. 
 
 Lap. Du. Agreed ! agreed ! Let's on ! 
 
 Mar. Bravely resolv'd ! 
 
 Stars have their strongest influence in conjunction ! 
 
 [A clap or two of thunder. 
 
 Const. Hark ! hark ! — the voice of Heaven ! 'T 'as 
 answer'd us, 
 And seal'd the enterprise ! And when I fail it, 
 Let Heaven strike me as I this earth ! 
 
 Enter Philo with a guard. 
 
 Phil Stand ! — Treason ! — Seize them ! 
 Mar. Seize me ! For what ] 
 Phil. Oh ! your highness, 
 
 The Emperor will discharge you presently. 
 Const. Unhand me, villain ! Take that ! 
 
 [CoNSTANTiNUS biochs om of the guard 
 
 down. After a shmi scuffle, all seized. 
 
 Phil. So, so ! Away with them ! [Exeunt. 
 
182 andronicus comnenius. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 
 Enter Andronicus, solus. 
 
 And. Now I can say I live, and not till now. 
 I've elbow-room enough, and space to breathe : 
 I can look round me, too. There's not a tree 
 That stopt my prospect but I've levell'd it — 
 At least, am fairly onward. Not a mote 
 Hung in my light but I have swept it down. 
 Now, could the subtilest overgrown devil. 
 Whom age had render'd all experiment. 
 Done it more cleverly % These foolish lords, 
 Like ^sop's trees, have lent the axe an helve* 
 To hew themselves in pieces ; and the people 
 Kindled a fire that shall burn them up. 
 And let it burn ! This is my time to fix 
 And arm myself against the worst. Th' ascent 
 To thrones is slippery ; the top, shaking ; 
 The fall, a precipice ! Men go not down 
 By the same stairs they climb'd ! Yet what of that % 
 This must defend me ! — [Hands Us sw(yrd.'\ — Caesar 
 
 often sheath'd it. 
 But never laid it by ! 
 
 Enter Anna. 
 
 But see ! — the Empress ! 
 'Twere a good humour now for me, that kill'd 
 The husband, to make love unto the widow ! 
 For once I'll venture. — [He kneels.] — Hail, renowned 
 Empress ! 
 Amia. What would this plague and mischief of our 
 house 1 
 What means he "? 
 
 And. Duty, Eoyal madam, and leave 
 
 To drop a tear into this ocean ! [Rises. 
 
 Alas ! good Emperor ! Who can be happy. 
 When careless fate shall spin a thread so fine 
 * A handle. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 183 
 
 Only to snap 't in two again 1 Blest youth • 
 
 Had virtue, innocence, and all those graces 
 
 That build a Prince, and make him more belov'd 
 
 Than fear'd, done anything, th' 'adst been here still ! 
 
 Or could that early majesty, or courage 
 
 Beyond thy years, prevail'd, th' 'adst not died yet ! 
 
 But see our misery, that nothing can 
 
 Be happy long but Heav'n must envy it I 
 
 He was too good to live ! 
 
 Anna, Would thou 'adst been so, 
 
 I had not lost him, then ! Damn'd, cursed man ! 
 How durst thou vent these lies, when thou art he 
 That didst contrive his murder, and his blood 
 Yet reeks upon thee ? 
 
 And. Wrong not my innocence ! 
 
 By all the virtues of your sex, 'tis false ! 
 
 Anna. Thou liest ! 
 
 And. I do not ; 'twas a fall from's horse. 
 
 By this it was ! [Kisses her hand. 
 
 Anna. P'th ! I touch the hand [She spits at him. 
 That is besprinkled with my husband's blood 1 
 The day shall sooner set i' th' east ; the w^est 
 Shall be sunrising, ere I admit the hand 
 That took away my husband, kindred. Empire — 
 Nay, all ; but, what's more dear than all, thy hate, 
 Which, to my sorrow, is the common case 
 Of all with me, but shall continue fresh 
 And green, when thy ill-gotten bays shall wither, 
 And thy perfidious conquests be forgot ! 
 
 And. Call not my duty conquest. If you knew 
 With how much trembling I return'd again. 
 You would have pitied me, at least have judg'd 
 More favourably. I must change my key. [Aside. 
 But yet admit it conquest. He that did 
 That can do more. If still eternal hate 
 Lodgeth in mortal breasts, nor will it be 
 Reclaim'd though overcome, let conquerors 
 Keep what's their own, the conquered obey ! 
 
 Anna. 'Twas thy ambition first began it all ! 
 
 And. Say 't were ! 'Tis not the justice of the cause. 
 
184 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 But how it ends, is lookt upon. Success 
 Was always sainted. 
 
 Anna. Yes, i' th' devil's calendar 1 
 
 And. Come, come, forget ! And since I've sheatk'd 
 my sword, 
 Lay by your rancour ! 
 
 Anna. Would my eyes were basilisks,'^ 
 
 That I might look thee dead ! 
 
 And. They've done 't already ! 
 
 And no less power than that that gave the wound 
 Can make the cure ! 
 
 Anna. Then die, perfidious traitor ! 
 
 And. Yet ere I do 't, let me, like dying men, 
 Make my confession ! 'Twas I commanded 
 Your husband's death ; nor can I quit myself 
 Of anything that you have charg'd me with ! 
 Excuse 't I must and shall, or bring you in 
 As accessory ! 
 
 Anna. Me ! What means he, trow ? 
 
 And. I love you, Eoyal madam ! and with that zeal, 
 That to express it were to imagine 
 'Twere comprehensible, and make it nothing ! 
 Were there ten thousand mischiefs more, each mischief 
 Clog'd with another million, I would through — 
 Value no hazard, laugh at blood and ruin, 
 Till I had plac'd me on that even ground 
 Might challenge your love ! Now, madam, you have 
 
 the cause ; 
 Be merciful to me, or just to yourself! 
 
 Anna. What call you justice, then ? 
 
 And. Either absolve me, or condemn yourself 
 
 Anna. Was I the cause ? 
 
 And. Your beauty was. 
 
 Anna. Would it had been blasted 
 
 Beyond the power of art ! 
 
 And. Be not so cruel ! 
 
 Consider who 'tis loves you, and what he did 
 Was for that love ! The Emperor is dead, 
 
 * " Would they were basilisks to strike thee dead." 
 
 --Shakespeare's Richard III. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 185 
 
 And 'tis as easy to call back the day 
 
 That's past, as him ! A living mouse is better 
 
 Than a dead lion ; I am Emperor still. 
 
 Anna. But how ? or by what means 1 
 
 And. What matters that % 
 
 It is enough I am. Here ! take that love 
 AVhich all the world would court ! Nor think me old 
 Although 't 'as snow'd upon my head ! Your beauty 
 Can raise new spirits, and my power shall fix them ! 
 
 Anna. Let me alone — I hate thee ! 
 
 And. But I love you ! 
 
 Accept it yet, and keep that power and greatness 
 You ever had ! Nay, I will double it ! 
 I'll make yourself, and only you, the channel 
 To pass my favours through ! The Empire shall 
 Be blest or blasted by your influence ; 
 And the less world shall set its looks by yours ! 
 
 Anna. Would it had ne'er seen thine ! 
 
 And. Some angel help me ! [Draws his sword. 
 
 Here ! — [Gives it her.] — And I tell thee once again, I 
 
 kill'd 
 Alexius — and to enjoy thee, too ! 
 Revenge his death at least ! And since I cannot 
 Live with thy love, let me die thy martyr ! 
 
 Anna. I take thee at thy word. Repent, and die ! 
 
 [She offers. 
 
 And. Repent 1 — the phrase of ignorance ! That were 
 To doubt the action in its cause — your beauty ! 
 'Twas I ! Why doubt you ? Strike ! Strange that 
 
 you'll neither 
 Revenge nor yet forgive ! 
 
 Anna. Away, dissembler ! 
 
 [She throws the sword at him. 
 Thou art not ripe for vengeance, nor shall 
 My hand anticipate thy fate ! No ! Live ! 
 To let thee see how much I hate thee ! — live, 
 Only to fall more infamous ! [Exit Anna. 
 
 And. What's here ? 
 
 Love tricks 1 My life, she comes at t'other pluck ! 
 
186 andronicus comnenius. 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 Enter Stephanus, solus. 
 
 Ste. And must I still live this unmanly life 1— 
 Still brook a rival ? No ! In Princes' favours 
 There is no middle 'twixt the top and bottom 1 
 Their minds are large but various, and cloy'd 
 Sooner than others, easily o'erlooking 
 Their first election ! Sure, the Emperor loves me ! 
 I never wrong'd him in my thought. He does ; 
 I'll ne'er dispute it further. But what is 't 
 Unless I could engross him 1 There's Basilius 
 Keeps even pace in's favour, and may in time 
 Get the start o' me if I don't prevent him ! 
 No more ! He falls ! 'Tis here as 'tis in prospects, — 
 When others come on, we think ourselves go back ! 
 
 Enter Philo, as going hastily over the stage. 
 
 Whither so hasty, man '? 
 
 Phil. I cannot stay ; 
 
 I'll wait upon you presently again. 
 
 [As he goes out he drops a letter. 
 Stephanus takes it up. 
 
 *SVg. Hownow! Morework^ It is the Emperor's hand! 
 To Tripsicus ! 'S heart ! — a promoting rogue ! 
 And can you stoop so low % Then I see anything 
 Will serve your turn. This letter may beget 
 Eight understanding 'twixt us. Well, I'll read it ! 
 
 \He reads.'] — " Pray, mind what I hinted you last. 
 Affairs run high at present, but I si i all weather them !" 
 
 Ste. Good ! good ! good ! 
 " 9, 41, and 85 meet at night. 200 will tell you 
 where it is. Things are not yet ripe enough to own 
 you publicly." 
 
 Ste. Better and better ! 
 "You know your work — either bring the account 
 yourself, or send it by 90. I had rather the latter. 
 — Your beloved friend, A." 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 187 
 
 A ] — that's Andronicus ! I'm sure the hand 
 
 Is all his own. Super-excellent ! 
 
 T'faith ! i'faith ! and does the wind blow there 1 
 
 Philo returns in haste. 
 
 Phil. Dropt I no letter, sir 1 
 
 Ste. You best know that 
 
 Yourself. What letter ? or to whom directed 1 
 Sure, Philo, you're in love ; you're grown forgetful ! 
 You know you stopt not here ! Come, tell me true, 
 'Twas from your mis', and you're afraid another 
 May take the scent! Peuh! he'll but squeeze thy orange, 
 And thou may'st have 't again. 
 
 Phil. In troth, I'm serious ! 
 
 And if it ben't within, am lost for ever ! [Exit Philo. 
 
 Ste. My pocket, th' 'adst hit right ! Now for a trick 
 To kill two birds with one stone ! — ^make me 
 A property ! — an idle stale ! — I have 't ! 
 To see how luckily things hit ! Andronicus, 
 Finding the city troublesome, as resenting 
 Alexius' murder, makes it his endeavour 
 To fetch off Constantinus to his party ; 
 Perhaps to destroy me, too. Not unlikely ; 
 But I shall miss my aim or I cross-bite him ! 
 
 'Tis thus : — I smok'd the business, and, judging it 
 a fit opportunity to ruin Basilius, went privately to 
 Constantinus and struck up a friendship with him ; 
 and, as a first act of it, bade him have a care of 
 Basilius, whose civil usage had no other respect than 
 to betray him to the loss of his head, which,— to my 
 knowledge, as I told him, — Andronicus had plotted, 
 and would inevitably take eff'ect unless he could turn 
 the mischief upon t'other by making his escape. 
 Whereupon, by my advice, he has possess'd Basilius of 
 a seeming repentance for his former obstinacy, and 
 that he is both able and willing to recover it by the 
 discovery of a new plot. The thing takes. Androni- 
 cus has sent for him — I wonder he is not come yet ; 
 but if he does not give them the go-by, I'll lose my 
 head. If he does, the work is done — Basilius de- 
 
] 88 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 stroyed, and, consequently, Andronicus disarm'd of 
 the city by tlie falling of the power into my hands. 
 
 Now how I hug myself ! 
 Who cannot make his port with a fore wind 
 Must use a side wind. Craft, where strength doth fail. 
 And piece the lion with the fox's tail ! [Exit 
 
 Scene v. 
 
 Enter Andronicus, solus. 
 
 And. And am I Emperor, and do my foes 
 Still live 1 or must I, that have dar'd so far, 
 Falter at last, for fear the multitude 
 May be displeas'd 1 Can wounded greatness sleep, 
 Or joy itself, when it beholds a sword 
 Hang o'er its head 1 No ! Let me be safe. 
 Though the world tumble ! Slow and fearful counsels, 
 Which narrow-hearted fools call caution. 
 Ne'er made Rome what she was ! Who waits within 1 
 
 Enter Philo. 
 
 AVhat ! has Maria's doctor done his work 1 
 
 Fhil As pat as wish — she's dead ! and so's her hus- 
 band. 
 
 A7id. Here ! See these warrants executed ! For 
 Constantinus, 
 Let him alone till you hear further from me ! 
 
 Phil. 'Tisdone! 
 
 Aoid. I like a man goes merrily on ! 
 
 Are they not right 1 [Philo peruses them. 
 
 Phil. Yes, yes ! But if they were not, 
 
 I'd make them serve. — [Aside.'] — Send me good luck ! 
 
 I've dabbled 
 So long in blood, that ten to one he serves me 
 As our musicians when the music's done^ 
 Hang up the instrument ! But I am in, 
 And must wade through or sink ! [Exit Philo. 
 
 And. So much for them — now for an after-game ! 
 
ANDRONICUS COININENIUS. 189 
 
 But that lies nearer home. Here are a brace 
 
 Of rogues, my lords in mischief ! That's Basilius 
 
 And Stephanus, whom I kept hitherto 
 
 For a reserve, and thought t' 'ave sacrificed them 
 
 Unto a popular fury. But they're grown 
 
 Too cunning, and have stol'n the people from me. 
 
 Had they no other crime, this were enough. 
 
 Who puts off's hat unto the people, forfeits 
 
 His head to's Prince ! Nor will 't be difficult 
 
 To compass theirs. They're jealous one of t'other. 
 
 I must foment it, and, by setting poison 
 
 To work 'gainst poison, rid myself of both ! 
 
 I've instruments enough to fill their room 
 
 Less cunning and more tractable. 
 
 Enter Basilius and Stephanus. 
 
 My friends. 
 Most welcome ! What's the news 1 
 
 Bas. Little but that 
 
 The city's hush'd again. 
 
 And. I thank your care ! 
 
 What would the buzzards have % 
 
 Bas. They know not what ! 
 
 One's for a single person, another for two, 
 A third for neither, a fourth for liberty. 
 Oh ! what a gallant thing this Sparta vas ! 
 But what that was, the devil a bit they know ! 
 'Tis hardly credible : There's not a tap-house 
 But 's a new polity — a small free state ! 
 And there sit in judgment, and give sentence 
 Ere they agxee the case. 
 
 And. What would y' advise me 1 
 
 Ste. Let them alone ! When the dull beast is weaiy 
 'Twill fall asleep ! If not, grant them some toy 
 You meant t' 'ave done yourself 'Tis the same thing 
 As you had given them all — they'll be as little 
 Contented if you had. They are not capable 
 Of ha\dng all or nothing granted them. 
 They neither brook a downright slavery, 
 Nor may be trusted mth full liberty. 
 
190 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 And for the rest, — carry an even hand, 
 
 You need not fear them. Wind your strings too high, 
 
 They crack ; and let them down too low, they jar ! 
 
 And. My worthy friends, — But is 't not possible 
 To find the hands that set the wheel agoing ? 
 I'm sure the multitude are sots, and carry 
 Their brains in other men's heads, 
 
 Ste. I've heard of some ; 
 
 But pitiful fellows ! 
 
 And. As though a rogue 
 
 Might not bring in the plague ! Have they no money 'I 
 
 Ste. I hope in a short time to give you a catalogue. 
 
 And. 'Tis but ill playing with these tools. I thank 
 you! 
 And now I'll tell you news ! Could you believe 
 That Constantinus should have tack'd about ? 
 
 Ste. Nor shall I easily. The sky may fall, 
 But yet I wish my head ne'er ache till 't do ! 
 
 And. — you are too severe ! What says Basilius % 
 
 Bas. Troth, I believe he will ! And had you heard 
 Half our discourse, you must have judg'd the same : 
 I never met with larger promises. 
 
 And. I bade you bring him to me. Have you 
 done 't 1 
 
 Bas. I have ; and left him with a guard without. 
 
 And. Go, fetch him in ! [Exit Basilius. 
 
 Ste. And he shall fool you both ! [All this aside. 
 Things jump as right as wish, and his escape 
 Must hit. Pray Heaven, he don't mistake the door I 
 
 Basilius returns tvith Constaninus and a Guard. 
 Stephanus points to the door. 
 
 And. How now, my lord ! Basilius has told me 
 You'd somewhat to offer me. 
 
 Const. I heard you were 
 
 Willing to speak with me. 
 
 And. How !— What's all this t 
 
 Bas. Why, he told me 
 
 Const. Nay, if you can't agree, 
 
 I had as good be gone ! 
 
ANDROxNICUS COMNENIUS. 191 
 
 [CONSTANTINUS mokes his escape by a dom\ and claps 
 it after him. Stephanus aiid Basilius imrsue. 
 Excursions of Guards. After some time, they force 
 the door. 
 
 Ste. Hold ! Stop the traitor ! 
 
 And. Where leads this door ? 
 
 1 Gua. Unto the water, sir. 
 And. Nay, then, he's gone ! Order a gallej^ straight 
 
 To give him chase ! Disperse ! Stop ev'ry passage ! 
 A thousand crowns to him that brings his head ! 
 There must be more in this than barely chance — 
 'Twas a bold rogue that did it. 
 
 Stephanus returns in a fury, icith his sword drawn. 
 
 Ste. Nothing but locks 
 
 And bolts 1 Sir, you're betray'd ! 
 
 Enter Guard. 
 
 And. Did you recover hhn I 
 
 2 Gua. No ; he got boat ere we could reach the stairs. 
 And. But whither went he "? 
 
 2 Gua. 'Twas so thick a fog, 
 
 And the boat so well mann'd, we quickly lost her. 
 ■ And. Death and the furies ! Am I then betray'd, 
 And myself made the instrument % Where's Basilius 1 
 
 2 Gua. We left him fitting out a galley. 
 
 And. Hence ! 
 
 Ste. Let me beseech your majesty ; be not troubled ! 
 Now you shall see I love you ! If it be 
 A thing of chance, you'll hear no further of 't. 
 If other^vise, and he designs a rising. 
 The city is the scene. I'll get before him, 
 And raise the Guards ! And, if your majesty 
 Thought it convenient, could seize the heads 
 Of the left mutiny. But then — Basilius 
 
 And. And what of him ? 
 
 Ste. May chance to take it ill- 
 
 There' s some of them are his relations. 
 
 And. But are you sure to seize them ^ 
 
 Ste. Do I live ] 
 
192 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 And. And you dare act as high as I dare trust you 1 
 
 Ste. Dare, sir ! How think you 1 Dare I eat or drink 
 For fear of choking 1 
 
 And, I am satisfied ! 
 
 Seize him and all ! 'Tis not our ancient friend, 
 But our new enemy. 
 
 Ste. It may be dangerous ; 
 
 He is so popular. 
 
 And. Then knock out's brains ! 
 
 Such as would own his cause when living will 
 Shift for themselves when once they see him dead. 
 
 Ste. Please you to leave 't to me. 'Tis time 'twere 
 done. 
 
 And. Do what thou wilt — [Exit Stephanus] — and 
 good luck follow thee ! 
 Tell me of middle ways ! — an even hand ! 
 Who ever got a crown by evil arts 
 And manag'd it by good 1 That waking men 
 Should dream themselves away ! Empire's preserv'd 
 By the same way 'twas got. I stand too near 
 A precipice to think of stopping now. 
 No ! I must on ! What I've already done 
 Is but the antimask to what I'll do. 
 When safety comes in question, there's no difference 
 'Twixt just or unjust, pitiful or cruel ! 
 I'll break what will not bow — possess their hearts, 
 Or force them open ! They that will not love 
 Shall at least fear my power. 'Tis decreed ! 
 And this great beast must either bow or bleed. [Exit. 
 
 Act v. — Scene i. 
 
 Enter Stephanus and Constantinus. 
 
 Ste. Thus far, my lord, you're safe. But one pluck 
 more, 
 And you may write secure ! 
 
 Const. Nay ; that I am 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 193 
 
 Is yours, and singly yours. But passing what 
 I cannot name too oft, let us consider 
 What must be done. 'Twere better die at once 
 Than be thus saw'd in pieces ! Our wounds are 
 So far from being heal'd, they're hardly closed : 
 Nay, like sick men, we've rather lighted on 
 A new physician than a remedy. 
 
 Ste. 'Tis but too true, my lord ! but 'tis too late 
 To spend ourselves in womanish complaints — 
 'Tis more than time 'twere done. 
 
 Cmist But who shall do 't 1 
 
 You know our friends are gone, or, what's as bad. 
 By having lost their eyes, unserviceable ! 
 
 Ste. 'Tis our advantage ; what we want in numbers 
 Will be supplied in secrecy. Great designs, 
 Like wounds, if they take air, corrupt. Besides, 
 These frequent slaughters make our game, thus have 
 Lost their authority, and rend'red him 
 As cheap, as funerals a physician ! 
 And what is greater than all these, the city 
 Has ne'er a head ! 
 
 Const. No ! Where's Basilius 1 
 
 Ste. He's gone the way of those that oblige tyrants 
 Beyond requital — he's strangled ! 
 And now's our time to strike ! Your lordship has 
 Good interest among the citizens, 
 And they're just ripe for mischief. I have agents 
 Now raising them to your hand, and shall be ready 
 To back you with the Guards. Make'but a stand, 
 And all's our own ! Isaacus Angelus 
 Is of the blood, and we'll proclaim him Emperor ! 
 
 Const. But he's given up to privacy. Andronicus 
 Well knew 't, that suffered him to live so long ! 
 
 Ste. I thought as much myself ere I went to him. 
 But now, he is so sensible of 's danger, 
 He catches at anything. This is our nick ; * 
 For — I'm to tell you news — the Empress 
 Has, notwithstanding all her brave resolves, 
 Giv'n up t' Andronicus ! Poor lady ! 
 * Critical moment. 
 N 
 
194 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 It will concern us to be quick. This action 
 
 Will rivet all unless we crush him now 
 
 Now, while 'tis hot ! Come, my lord ! [Exeunt 
 
 Scene II. 
 
 Enter Andronicus, solus. 
 
 And. Mischief of greatness ! that has all to fear, 
 Yet knows not whom to trust. What desperate rocks 
 Must it run foul of, when to trust all or none 
 Is equally an error, and both fatal ! 
 How am I fool'd ! and by some bosom slave ! 
 But let it pass ; 'tis time must work it out. 
 I have enough at present to soothe the people. 
 Some crafty devil has buzz'd them in the head 
 With prophecies, the fond belief of fools. 
 But now and then the talk of wiser men ! 
 Nothing but murmurs, news, seditious libels — 
 The common weapons of unmanly spirits — 
 It must not be dallied with ! These hollow blasts 
 Bode no fair weather ; these imperfect motions 
 Show somewhat's out of frame ! 
 
 Enter Stephanus. 
 
 Ste. Safety to Caesar ! 
 
 The omen, to his enemies ! 
 
 And. What is 't 
 
 Can need that preface ? Speak ! 
 
 Ste. A fearful comet 
 
 Sweeps the air ! 
 
 And. Heav'n has done us right at last, 
 
 And grac'd our triumphs with its bonfires too ! 
 If otherwise, and there be danger in % 
 'T 'as told its errand, and betray'd its end ! 
 These toys astonish more than signify. 
 
 Ste. Nor is this all. Men talk as if an earthquake 
 Had overthrown some houses ! 
 
 And. 'T 'as yet left 
 
 The palace standing ! Have you more 1 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 195 
 
 Ste. The statue 
 
 Of your St. Paul drops tears ! 
 
 And. Mere change of weather ! 
 
 Unless, perhaps, the general acclamations 
 May Ve pierc'd its marble with a feeling sense 
 Of what we are. Tears are th' effect of joy 
 As well as mourning ! But I thought my Stephanus 
 Had had more wit than to regard these fooleries ; 
 They're natural, and ignorance of cause 
 Must make them miracles. He that regards 
 The crowLQg of a hen, a fox with young. 
 Hare, cat, or weasel crossing his way, a snake 
 Dropt from the tile, a black dog at his door, 
 A left hand magpie, or a right hand thunder, 
 Must never sleep ! The very peasant, now. 
 Can half look through them ! — and shall Empire fear 
 them ? 
 
 Ste. Now, how it joys my soul to see your majesty 
 Thus yourself still ; and to confirm you so. 
 Let me once say, be safe ! I've charm'd the city 
 Into obedience ; nor is there left 
 A head or hand that dare appear against you. 
 But though the flame be quench'd, there may, perhaps, 
 Some brands He smoking ! To prevent the worst, 
 'Twere fit the guards kept there — besides, 'tis good 
 To show the dog his whip. 
 
 And. My other self ! 
 
 \He embraces him. 
 Keep up thy wonted courage, and make the Empire 
 Confess thou sav'dst it ! If you can look so low, 
 You'll find a nest of slaves, that, like ill spirits, 
 Foretell the storm themselves intend to move. 
 Let not a mother's son escape ! These villains 
 Are grown State mountebanks ; nothing can pass 
 But they must raise some observation 
 Or use upon 't. And the dull beast conceives, 
 According to the colour of those rods 
 They cast before them ! * Stephanus conceives me ? 
 
 * See Shakespeare's Merclmnt of Venice, Act i. Scene iii., voce 
 Shylock. 
 
196 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Ste. I do ! and shall not sleep 'till I have giv'n you 
 Some fair account. [Exit Stephanus. 
 
 And. Farewell, my worthy friend ! 
 
 So ! he stands single now — he'll fall the easier. 
 He's grown too stubborn for me : I daren't displease 
 
 him, 
 For fear he take a pet and set up another ; 
 Perhaps himself But I shall check him there : 
 He's only safe that has nought left to fear. [Exit 
 
 Scene hi. 
 Enter a RaUle of Citizens. 
 
 1 Cit. Come, neighbour, come ; it is not to be endur'd ! 
 
 2 Cit. No, troth is it not ! 'Twould make a man a 
 whore to consider it seriously. 
 
 7 Cit. I told you this before — you might have 
 hearken'd to a fool ! 
 
 3 Cit. Ay, neighbour, would you had ! 
 
 5 Cit. Hang would ! let's be doing ! 
 
 6 Cit. Ay, but what, neighbour 1 what 1 
 
 4 Cit. Anything — anything ! I am for anything ! 
 Omnes. Liberty — liberty — -liberty ! [A hollow. 
 
 1 Cit. Why should this Andronicus lord it over us 
 any longer ] 
 
 2 Cit. He is a very tyrant, that's certain ! 
 
 5 Cit. Troth, all I got by his government is, that 
 where I had a little money before, now I have none 
 at all ! 
 
 6 Cit. Nor I neither ! The devil might have danc'd 
 in my pocket this twelvemonth, and not broke his 
 shins against one single cross ! Call you me this, 
 assisting 1 
 
 5 Cit. It seems, neighbour, it is not altogether so 
 plain as you made it. 
 
 1 Cit. What say you, gentlemen 1 There's Isaacus 
 Angelus, and, as I have heard say, has as good a title 
 to the crown as another man ! 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 197 
 
 2 at. Constantinus appointed us to have met Mm 
 here. 0' my word, they say he is a pretty gentleman ! 
 
 4 at I wonder they should stay so long ! 
 
 6 at. Tell me of none of your pretty gentlemen 1 
 I am for liberty ! 
 
 Omnes. Liberty — Hberty — liberty ! [A hoUow. 
 
 1 at. But hark you, neighbours; we must have 
 some government ! 
 
 2 at. Time enough to think of that hereafter ; let's 
 destroy this first ! 
 
 3 at. What think you of aristotocracy 1 
 
 4 at. No — no — no ! Oligasky for my money ! 
 
 5 at. By your favour, neighbour, I should think 
 demococracy 1 
 
 6 at. And, with your favour too, why not anarchy? 
 
 2 at. Anything — anything but what we are ! 
 Omnes. Liberty — liberty — liberty ! [A hollow. 
 
 Enter Philo. 
 
 Phil. Save you, gentlemen ! What's the business ? 
 'Tis not midsummer moon, I hope ? 
 
 3 at. Suppose it be — what then % 
 
 Phil. Nothing, good gentlemen ; but if it be, I hope 
 it will not last all the year ! 
 
 2 at. Then we shall have another in 's room ; but 
 what's that to you 1 
 
 Phil. Pray, gentlemen, you need not be so stout ! I 
 could tell you news deserv'd a better face. 
 
 Omnes. What's that 1 — what's that % 
 
 Phil. The Emperor has thought upon a device, that 
 no freeman of Constantinople shall ever want money 
 unless it be his own fault. 
 
 5 at. That would do well ! 
 
 6 at. Yes ! 0' my conscience, neighbour, would it ! 
 Omnes. But how — but how 1 
 
 Phil. Do but acquiesce a while, and you'll quickly 
 see ; whereas, if you disturb him in 't, you spoil all, 
 and perhaps may repent it when 'tis too late ! 
 
 2 Oit. Acquiesce, that's the word — huh ! 
 
 5 at. Ay, neighbour, ay ! — Acquiesce ! 
 
198 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 3 CH. Troth, he speaks reason ! 
 
 4 Git Marry, does he ! 
 
 5 at. Our city orator's but an ass to him ! 
 Phil. What say you, then, gentlemen 1 
 
 2 at For my part, now, I'll live and die with him ! 
 
 3 at. And so will I ; we may do worse ! 
 
 Phil. Yes ; I dare trust them for the first ! — [Aside.] 
 — ^But what's the matter 1 Has so good an Emperor 
 hut two friends among you all 1 Throw up your caps, 
 and away with 't ! 
 
 Omnes. One and all ! one and all ! long live An- 
 dronicus ! 
 
 Phil. He is beholden to you, and I'll let him know 
 as much ! Farewell 1 good gentlemen. 'Twas a fair 
 'scape ! [Aside. Exit Philo. 
 
 Omnes. Farewell ! farewell ! Long live Andronicus ! 
 
 [Hollow. 
 
 1 at. Come, neighbours, come ! We had as good 
 be quiet. There will be faults while there are men ! 
 
 3 at. Ay — ay — let's home — let's home ! 'Tis good 
 sleeping in a whole skin ! [As they are going off. 
 
 Enter IsAACUS and Constantinus. 
 
 Const. Now, gentlemen, I see you're men o' your 
 words I 
 Tis but an easy risk, and all 's our own ! 
 Can you remember your old Emperor, 
 Or his late murder'd son, and not acknowledge 
 The heir, the undoubted heir 1 
 
 1 at. Ay, neighbour, ay ! 
 'Twas this we came about. 
 
 2 at. Where's that rogue, Philo] Knock out 's 
 brains ! 
 
 Omnes. Ay — ay — ay ! "WTiere is he — ^where is he 1 
 
 3 at. We cannot for shame now but proclaim him 
 Emperor ! 
 
 6 at. Oh, by any means ! 
 
 Omnes. Long live Isaacus, Emperor of Greece ! 
 Isa. It was so far, my friends and countrymen, 
 From my desires t'ave liv'd to see this day, 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 199 
 
 'Twas never in my thoughts : My privacy 
 
 Was all the Empire I or "vvisht or dreamt. 
 
 But since your joint unanimous consent 
 
 Has firm'd that title, which my birthright gave me, 
 
 I cannot but acknowledge it ! 
 
 3 at. What's that he says ? Long live Isaacus ! 
 Omnes. Long live the Emperor ! 
 
 4 at Peace ! hear him speak ! 
 Isa. 'Tis not my business here to rip old sores, 
 
 Or to keep ope those wounds which, let alone, 
 AVould close themselves. Yet, since the readiest way 
 To what we should be, is to know what we are. 
 Let me once ask you, what d' you call this place ? — 
 Greece, or her ruins ^ You had once an Emperor, 
 A good one, too — I mean Alexius ! 
 I will not say who murder' d him ! He had 
 A sister ; I do not say she was poison'd ! 
 You had good laws ; Andronicus made more — 
 I would he had kept either ! I forbear ! 
 Conto, Mamalus, Csesar, Basilius, 
 Lapardas, Ducas, and a thousand more ; 
 Some murder'd, others their eyes bor'd out ! My way 
 Is not to speak against such as are absent. 
 ' Omnes. Yes — yes — yes — pray on ! Long live 
 Isaacus ! 
 
 6 at. Peace ! hear him speak ! 
 
 Isa. Which of you all durst shake his head, and not 
 Believe it loose and might fall off 1 '^^^lat though 
 You 'scap'd when others fell ? — you were but kept 
 To close his stomach and be last eat up. 
 
 Yet let me give Andronicus his due : 
 He brought the city once again within 
 Her walls, whose suburbs, like the spleen, had swoU'n, 
 To the consumption of the rest o' th' body ! 
 I would he 'd left inhabitants enough 
 To people that little remain'd ! He built a chapel — 
 I would the devil had not set up the cross ! 
 An aqueduct — I would the kennels had run 
 No other colour ! One or two good actions 
 To blanch and varnish o'er a deal of ill 
 
200 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Is but the music to a tragedy. 
 But I forget myself : I never lov'd 
 To rake in dunghills, I only wish their author 
 Had his desert ! Not that I bid you lay 
 Violent hands upon him; Justice will do 
 Enough but give her leave ! And so I shall not 
 Detain you longer ; only let me beg you, 
 If you meet Manuel, to preserve him safe. 
 His only crime is, that Andronicus gat him ! 
 
 7 at Ay, here's one spoke like an Emperor ! 
 
 Omnes. Long live Isaacus ! 
 
 3 at. Come, we lose time ! Andronicus may chance 
 to give us the slip ! 
 
 5 at. But if we take him, we'll give it him ! 
 
 Omnes. Follow — follow — follow ! — whoop ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene iv. 
 Enter Andronicus and Stephanus. 
 
 And. But did he land again 1 
 
 Ste. I'm certain oft. 
 
 I miss'd him narrowly ; perhaps he may 
 Have taken sanctuary. 
 
 And. What ? — Harbour traitors ! 
 
 Demand him straight ! if they refuse a search, 
 Force all the doors ! — [Shout within.] — What means 
 
 that hollow 1 
 Some devil's abroad ! Prithee go see what 'tis ! 
 
 [Exit Stephanus. 
 Nothing but mischief still 1 No day-shine clear 
 Without a cloud 1 111 follows ill, like waves, 
 One is no sooner past but t'other rolls. 
 Within there ! 
 
 Enter Philo. 
 
 Call me a lutenist, and let him sing 
 The song my Music sang me last ! Make haste ! 
 
 [Exit Philo. 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 201 
 
 My head's disquieted ; an old wizard's saw 
 
 Swims in my brains ! 'Twas told me once I should 
 
 Live to be Emperor, and that I. S. 
 
 Should be my successor ! No Delphian devil 
 
 Was ever more obscure ! — I. S. — Isaurus. 
 
 But I've an eye on him. Whoe'er he be, 
 
 The devil was right ; if not, 'twas our mistake. 
 
 But say — I. S. — Whom heaven intends to ruin 
 
 It first infatuates 1 There's Isaacus, 
 
 Whom hitherto I've rather scorn'd than fear'd, 
 
 Appears like something now ! He must not live ! 
 
 In vain we fell a tree if yet we leave 
 
 Quick roots behind. But what's the matter ? 
 
 What makes the day post backward to the east? 
 
 Whence this unwonted night — these stars at noon % 
 
 Out with that dunghill stuff ! See how it waves 
 
 And darts at me ; but I'll fetch it down ! 
 
 Where be the sons of Titan 1 Let them come ; 
 I'll be their captain ! With this arm I'll pluck 
 Eocks from their standing, trees with roots and all, 
 Whole mountains with their Centaurs, and erect 
 A scaling ladder made of heaped hills, 
 Whose top shall touch the clouds ! The world shall 
 
 see 
 Ossa once more on Pelion ; a third 
 Shall be Olympus, whose advanced chin 
 Shall knock the Heav'ns — if not, I'll throw it in ! 
 
 \He staggers, and falls into a chair. 
 
 Enter a Lute. 
 A Song. 
 
 Some have called life a stage play, that includes 
 Nothing but scenes and interludes j 
 
 Others a month of April, where two hours 
 Scarce pass without as many showers ; 
 
 Others, again, a miscellane of years. 
 
 Or chequer-work of hopes and fears. 
 
 But I'm confirm'd they were ordain'd by fate, 
 
 As hieroglyphics of a Prince's state. 
 
202 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 One, while his genius is so kind, he'd swear 
 
 He's in an empyrean sphere ; 
 So curst again by fits, the frozen zone 
 
 Is habitabler ten to one ! 
 Strange kind of life ! to have one's hopes be brought 
 
 To somewhat, and straight dash'd to nought. 
 When rais'd upon the pinnacle, 'tis all 
 To think, not whither, but from whence, we fall. 
 
 Since, then, our dappled fate is such, who can 
 Call himself blest and yet be man 1 
 
 Ev'n crowns their crosses have ; nor Caesar shall 
 Write happy till his funeral. 
 
 More are our clouds than suns ; our care and pain 
 Weigh down our bliss ! Who's happy, then ? 
 
 He, and he only, whom the womb doth smother. 
 
 And sends him packing from one grave to t'other. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Ha ! what was that 1 Methought I heard a voice 
 And music ! How 't 'as fix'd me ! Plato, sure, 
 Was in the right — -our souls are harmony. 
 I am myself again ! What should I fear 1 
 Who flies to shun his fate runs headlong on 't. 
 Heaven helps the valiant, and ne'er descended 
 To save that coward durst not save himself 
 Since, then, the Empire knows not when 'tis well, 
 I'll make it sensible what power can do ; 
 I'm but defendant, they provoke me to 't ! 
 Nor can the world my blackest action blame — 
 Necessity has neither sin nor shame ; 
 Mischief is never safe, but heap on heap 
 One must back t'other ! They that stumble leap ! 
 
 [Exit. 
 
andronicus comnenius. 203 
 
 Scene v. 
 Enter Citizens aiid RabUe. 
 
 Omnes. Hollow! 
 
 1 at. Where is this traitor that murder'd the 
 Emperor 1 
 
 2 at. Would I could light on him ! — I'd have a leg 
 or an arm of him ! He hang'd my brother ! 
 
 3 at. If every one he has wrong'd have but a little, 
 I am sure a joint will not fall to your share. 
 
 4 at. Come, come ! there will be enough for us 
 all ! Would we had him, though I were bound to 
 give you mine. 
 
 5 at. What had we best do, neighbours 1 
 
 3 at. Smoke the fox out of his hole ! 
 
 2 at. Set fire on the palace ! 
 
 4 at. By no means, gentlemen ; 'twill destroy a 
 deal of good pillage — That has done no hurt. 
 
 6 at. No — no — no ! destroy all ! You'll ne'er be 
 rid of the wolves till you cut down the woods ! 
 
 1 at. We had better sell them, and share the 
 money ! 
 
 6 at. 'Twill be too long a-doing, and others may 
 
 Enter Philo. 
 
 See, neighbour, see who comes here ] 
 Even the very rogue that first betrayed us ! 
 Down with him ! 
 Stand ! 
 
 Knock him down first ! 
 Phil. Good gentlemen ! But hear me 
 
 3 at. No — no — no ! Hear him 1 — That were a 
 trick, indeed ! . [They hiock him down. 
 
 2 at. So, farewell him ! I have a boy at home will 
 cry for him, I'm sure of 't ! 
 
 5 at. Upon my conscience, neighbour, but my wife 
 will do the same. 
 
 get m. 
 
 1 at. 
 
 2 at. 
 
 3 at. 
 
 4 at. 
 
 5 at. 
 
204 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 6 at Hang him ! — hang him ! We lose time ! 
 Let's about our work ! [Hollow. Exeunt. 
 
 Scene vi. 
 
 Enter Andronicus with his sword drawn, 
 and a Servant. 
 
 And. Ha ! — Philo dead ! These devils are every- 
 where. 
 Thou shalt not fall alone ! What was you saying % 
 
 Ser. Another rout has seiz'd St. Sophy's temple ! 
 
 And. Who heads them ? 
 
 Ser. Constantinus ! who has taken 
 
 Isaacus Angelus, and proclaim'd him Emperor ! 
 And to them Stephanus, with all his Guards, 
 Is since revolted ! 
 
 And. Then farewell my hopes ! 
 
 But I am still Andronicus ! Leave me 1 
 
 [Exit Servant. 
 And is your anger such, ye powers ? And can 
 What's least above stoop to contest with man 1 
 Did ye of brittle clay his fabric rear 
 Only to dash 't in pieces ? Bade ye him bear 
 His Maker's image in his brow to show 
 Ye reign'd above, he a small Jove below ? 
 Only to show him happiness, and yet 
 Straight snatch it from him, or tumble him from it ? 
 Had I submitted to a general fate. 
 It had been nothing ! Had I seen my State 
 And Empire sunk before me, I had gone 
 Contentedly ! But to fall alone — 
 Thus tamely lost ! What boots it to complain ? 
 Give me one battle ! Heav'n be heav'n again ! 
 One battle, and let me perish ! 
 
 Enter three or four of the Babble. 
 
 1 at Here he is ! Follow — follow — follow ! 
 And. Villains ! 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 205 
 
 2 at Stand ! [He kills two or three, the rest run. 
 
 And. Lie thou ! 
 
 By another door enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. I'm sorry I came so late. Please you, great sir, 
 Retire a while, until the storm be past ! 
 Your name's too great in arms to have it call'd 
 A cowardly flight. Then fall not out of season ; 
 Reserve yourself for better times. I have 
 A galley waits your majesty ! 
 
 And. Now Heav'n reward thy honesty ! Lead on ! 
 I know the worst ! 
 Foolish despair is but occasion lost. \Ex&ant. 
 
 Scene vii. 
 Enter Constantinus, Isaacus, and Citizens. 
 
 Const. Not find him yet ? I warrant you we know 
 him ! 
 Stop all the passages, and desire Stephanus 
 To draw down with his guards ! 
 ■ 6 at. All but that last 
 
 Is done already. I'll about it straight ! \Exit 
 
 Const. How ? — Philo slain ! He never did his master 
 A truer service. 
 
 7 at. And my good neighbours, Ambrose and 
 Gregory. Alack, alas ! Nothing certain in this life ; 
 to-day a man, to-morrow a cuckold, the next day dead ! 
 
 3 at. Come, come ! let's carry them off ! But for 
 that rogue, let him ev'n lie; he was a pestilent villain ! 
 
 4 at. Are you sure he is dead? Does not the 
 rogue counterfeit ? 
 
 5 at. 'Twill do no hurt to see. 
 
 3 at. For the more certainty, 'tis good to be sure. 
 
 [Stals him again. 
 
 5 at. Well done, neighbour ! You're in my mind. 
 I scarcely believe a man dead as long as his head 's 
 upon his shoulders. [Exeunt. 
 
206 andronicus comnenius. 
 
 Scene viii. 
 
 Enter Manuel, solus. 
 
 Man. 'Twould be some comfort yet I could but 
 hear 
 My father 'scap'd their hands — I'm half afraid 
 He scorn'd to step aside. Ha ! — what's here ? 
 Alas, poor Philo ! dead ! Now I perceive 
 Thou hadst some honesty — thou lov'dst thy master : 
 'Twas more than I expected. What's this world 
 And all its greatness 1 It has rais'd up some, 
 But ruin'd more ; and even those whom 't has 
 Most rais'd, 't 'as ruin'd most ! What's all this toil 
 And blind pursuit, but like our children's following 
 A butterfly \ Sometimes they cannot reach it ; 
 Sometimes o'errun it ; sometimes think they have 't. 
 But it slips through their fingers ; and at last, 
 When, after all their offers, turns, and falls. 
 They've taken it, what is 't ? Alas, poor fools ! 
 Nothing but painted wings. 'Tis not my late 
 Experience taught me this — I ever found it ! 
 Who could imagine to have seen my father. 
 So late the people's darling, now their hate ? 
 But yesterday an Empire at his back ; 
 Now scarce a hole to put his head ! 'Twas Heav'n, 
 And I submit ! But yet it lessens not 
 Their crime that were the cause. There's Stephanus ! 
 False Stephanus, a traitor to both masters ! 
 Were he my enemy, 't hadn't troubled me — 
 Nay, I'd forgiv'n him. But my friend, 'tis hard ! 
 
 Enter Stephanus. 
 
 See ! here he comes ! Now Heaven forgive me ! 
 I had a father till his treacherous faith 
 Bereav'd me of him. Father ! methinks the word 
 Prompts me to something. 
 
 Ste. My good lord, be safe ! 
 
 Safe as your virtue merits ! 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 207 
 
 Man. What hast thou 
 
 To do with virtue ? I ne'er suspected her 
 Until I found her in thy mouth. There ! 
 
 [He strikes o/Stephanus' hat 
 
 Ste. Ha ! Has your folly made you desperate 1 
 Now would thy father and his daring soul 
 Perch'd on thy point ! [They draw. 
 
 Man. The justice of my cause 
 
 May be enough to do thy work : My sword 
 In a child's hand, inform'd by that, with ease 
 Would reach thy treacherous heart! Words trifle 
 
 time- 
 Defend yourself ! [They fight. 
 
 And after some small time enter Constantinus. 
 
 Con^t. Hold ! Stephanus, hold ! Nay, good 
 
 my lord, 
 Let me entreat you ! [Stephanus falls. 
 
 Ste. How am I lost in sight of land, and all 
 
 My tow'ring hopes sunk with me ! Heav'n is just ; 
 I would, but cannot ! [Dies. 
 
 Man. So may all treachery succeed ! And if 
 
 T'ave been my own justiciar be a crime. 
 Forgive me — I had no other way ; his treason 
 Had lost its name, and in the world's ethics 
 Had past for virtue else. 
 
 Const. Alas, my lord, 
 
 'Twas an unfortunate action ! But since 
 'Tis done, preserve yourself Pray, good my lord. 
 Withdraw a while, nor let your virtue fall 
 A prey unto the rabble. 
 
 Man. I always scorn'd them, 
 
 And shall not now, by showing of my back. 
 Make them believe I fear them ! 
 
 Const. What's your courage 
 
 Against their numbers 1 Good my lord, withdraw ! 
 Venture not gold to dirt. Pray, give me leave ! 
 
 [Calls a servant 
 Come hither ! Attend my lord, and see him safe 
 Within my doors ! I'll wait on you presently. 
 
208 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 Enter another. 
 
 Ser. My lord, Andronicus- 
 
 Const. Well ! what of him 1 
 
 Ser. Had put to sea, and was now well-nigh reach'd 
 The other shore, when, of a sudden, the winds 
 And seas, as conscious whom they wafted o'er, 
 Check'd his full speed and beat him back again. 
 Yet he put out a second and third time. 
 But all in vain ! The face of Heav'n was sulKed, 
 The winds broke loose and clubb'd into a storm, 
 Till the poor galley, having lost her rudder, 
 Her oars unserviceable, and her masts 
 Spent by the board, came rolling on the back 
 Of an impetuous wave, and drove on shore. 
 Where he soon met a storm indeed ! The people, 
 Having by this time utterly defac'd 
 Whatever bore his name or memory. 
 Fell foul of him, or rather he of them ! 
 Had you but seen the hubbub ! — One twicks his beard. 
 Another beats out an eye, a third a tooth, 
 A fourth cuts off a hand ! No cruelty 
 He e'er commanded but was there again 
 Epitomiz'd on himself ; and when at last 
 Their tired invention could inflict no longer. 
 Laden with dirt and obloquies, and crown'd 
 With garlic, they set him on a scabbed camel, 
 And in that odd procession led him to 
 The common gallows, where they hung up that little 
 They'd left of him ! So fell Andronicus ! 
 
 Const. May the same fate ever attend rebellion 
 And usurpation ! And let the world 
 Hence learn on what a ticklish point they stand 
 Whose unjust actions and borrow'd greatness. 
 How speciously soever colour'd o'er, 
 Have no foundation but what's built upon 
 The people's favour ! The uncertain people. 
 Constant to nothing but inconstancy ; 
 Prone to afi'ect, but without judgment still ; 
 Hot-headed ; envious ; suspicious, 4 
 
ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 209 
 
 Yet credulous ; frame whimsies to themselves, 
 And after fear them ; now set up one, then t'other ; 
 But deal with all as children with their dirt-pies — 
 First raise, then pash * them out ! 
 
 Enter Isaacus. 
 
 Isa. My Lord, you hear the news of Andronicus ? 
 
 Const. Yes ; and may treason never prosper better ! 
 
 Isa. But I admire we hear nothing of Manuel. 
 
 Const. He's safe ! and now an object of your mercy! 
 
 Isa. For why, my Lord "? Is virtue grown a crime ? 
 
 Const. Behold ! — [He shoivs him Stephanus.] — I'll 
 let you know the rest within ; 
 But must assure your Majesty at present, 
 'Twas fairly done ! 
 
 Isa. Shall my first letters, then. 
 
 Be writ in blood ? Howe'er, — I pardon him ! 
 It is enough to me he durst be virtuous, 
 AVhen Caesar, and that Caesar his father, too. 
 Was otherwise. Bid him from me safe ! 
 
 Const. I thank your Majesty ! 
 
 Isa. But now, my Lord, 
 
 I mast desire you look into the city. 
 The people, like the sea, keep rolling still. 
 Although the "svinds that rais'd them first be laid ! 
 If they continue longer, there'll be nothing 
 Left them to spoil, and then perhaps they may 
 Consider and repent ! 
 
 Const. Ill straight about it ; 
 
 They have been up too long ! 'Twere to be wish'd 
 This beast, the people, either never knew 
 Their strength, or always knew to use it right. 
 
 Isa. You may go farther, and, as you see cause, 
 Proclaim a general pardon ! The more I spare. 
 The more are left me to adorn my trophy ! 
 Promise them better days, and let them know 
 That though we're not ia Plato's commonwealth, 
 
 * " Witli my armed fist 
 I'll pash him over the face." 
 
 —Shakespeare. 
 
 
210 ANDRONICUS COMNENIUS. 
 
 To have whate'er's amiss at once remede, 
 
 Yet the first stone is laid, and I despair not 
 
 A hopeful superstructure ! Eest and time 
 
 Will make your troubled waters clear again ; 
 
 For what remains, a gentle hand will do' t. 
 
 Harsh, cruel Empires, like acute diseases. 
 
 Are rather sharp than lasting ! That must dure * 
 
 When nations of their rulers feel secure ; 
 
 So must that Prince who'd wisely govern here, 
 
 Trust in his subjects' love, not claim their fear. 
 
 [Exeunt Omnes. 
 
 * Continue. 
 
 THE END. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 
 
i 
 
 The Projectors: A Comedy. By John Wilson. — jEtatem 
 hahet ipse de se loquatur. — Imprimatur, Roger L' Estrange, 
 Jan. 13, 1664. Lond. Printed for John Playfere at the 
 White Lyon, in the Upper Walk of the JVeio Exchange; and 
 William Crook, at the Three Bibles, on Fleet-Bridge. 1665. 
 Ato. 
 
I 
 
 Although the editors of tlie Biographia Dramatka say that 
 The Projectors "met with good success upon the stage," it 
 has been questioned by Geneste whether the play was ever 
 acted at all. "llf either the title page nor Langbaine," as he 
 affirms, "give us reason to believe so;" adding, "the play itself 
 seems badly calculated for representation;" while, at the same 
 time, he acknowledges that "it is well written, but wants 
 incident sadly. Suckdry, the miser, is an excellent character — 
 a better character of that description is not to be found in any 
 play: several of his speeches are translated from the Aulularia 
 of Plautns. The scene in the third act between the women is 
 founded on Aristophanes." — See Account of the English Stage, 
 8vo, Bath, 1832, vol. x. Mr. Halliwell's Dictionary of Old 
 English Plays — London, 1860, 8vo — confirms the statement of 
 the Biographia Dramatica ; and Langbaine, although not speci- 
 ally commenting on this particular comedy, says, in reference 
 to the author generally : ' ' Whose muse has been applauded 
 on the stage," — inferring that all his plays had been acted. 
 The supplementary volume of Langbaine contains this remark : 
 "This play met with no great success." 
 
 The characters are well depicted, the dialogue is good" 
 throughout, and the interest is strong enough to warrant the 
 piece being acted, at least in the days when it was written. 
 Since then, so many writers have extracted its best parts, and 
 turned them to their own uses, that, its freshness being thus 
 gone, if it were brought forward in these times an audience 
 would not accept it as a novelty. The "Miser " has not only been 
 adopted by Sir Walter Scott in his Old Mortality, and repeated 
 in his Fortunes of Nigel ; but Mr. W. Harrison Ainsworth has 
 again taken not only forcible possession of him, but has traded 
 upon the incident in this piece, of the suitor for his daughter's 
 hand disguising himself in mean habiliments, so as to make it 
 appear that he was of a thrifty nature, and in accordance with 
 the miser's own ideas. 
 
 It is uncertain whether Moliere's L'Avare was known to our 
 author prior to his writing this comedy, there being doubts as 
 to the precise date on which LAvare itself was produced. In 
 the memoirs of the life of Moliere prefixed to his works — Edit. 
 Amst. et Leip. 1750 — it is said to have been represented "sur 
 le theatre du Palais Royal, le 9 Septembre 1668;" but this is 
 qualified by a foot-note of the editor, who says : "On ne S9ait 
 pas precisement en quel tems L'Avare parut pour le premiere 
 fois." The dates of the two pieces, however, in so far as has 
 been stated, so approximate that it is difficult to determine 
 
214 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 whether Moliere or Wilson first brought the character of the 
 "Miser" into comparatively modern notice; but the merit of 
 this appears, if at all, to preponderate in favour of the English 
 dramatist. It is clear that both of them took the idea from 
 the Aulularia of Plautus, and both have frequently drawn upon 
 that play not only for character, but for their language and 
 incidents. Thomas Shadwell and Henry Fielding have in turn 
 drawn from all these several sources for materials for their 
 comedies, called, in both instances, The Miser. For the Aulu- 
 laria of Plautus, the English reader is referred to the second 
 volume of a translation "into familiar blank verse," by Bonell 
 Thornton, Lond. 1769, 8vo. 
 
 Sir Gudgeon Credulous, in Wilson's comedy, bears con- 
 siderable resemblance to Fabian Fitzdottrel, in Ben Jonson's 
 Devil is an Ass : 
 
 "Enter Engine, a broker, to Fitzdottkel. 
 
 Fitz. O, my fine Engine ! What's the affair? More cheats? 
 
 Eng. No, sir ! The wit, the brain, the great projector 
 I told you of, is newly come to town. 
 
 Fitz. Where, Engine? 
 
 Eng. I have brought him, he's without— 
 
 Ere he pulled off his boots, sir ; but so follow'd 
 For businesses ! 
 
 Fitz. But what is a projector? 
 
 I would conceive. 
 
 Eng. Why, one, sir, that projects 
 
 Ways to enrich men or to make them great. 
 By suits, by marriages, by undertakings, 
 According as he sees they humour it." 
 
 Meercraft is the projector, and among the projects he submits to 
 Fitzdottrel, although designed as a satire upon the projects and 
 monopolies of the time, there are many, then deemed impro- 
 bable, which have since been brought forward in sober earnest- 
 ness and have met Avith success. 
 
 At the end of the printed copy of the present comedy is 
 the following note : — 
 
 "Errata. — Before the three first Acts you'll find Sccen. 1, 
 Wherein the printer. mistook his copy ; be pleased to blot 'em : 
 each Act being but one Scoene, and the stage throughout the 
 whole play kept full. — The rest, being at most but literalj^ 
 leaves to your favour." 
 
THE PEESONS. 
 
 Sir Gudgeon Credulous, A Projecting Knight, Stdtoi 
 
 to Mrs. Godsgood. 
 Jocose, A Courtier. 
 Ferdinand, His Son. 
 SucKDRY, An Usurer. \ 
 
 Squeeze, An Exchange Broker. \-All in for Projects. 
 GoTAiii, A Citizen. j 
 
 Driver, Jocose' s Servant. 
 Leanchops, Suckdrijs Servant. 
 Servant. 
 
 Mrs. Godsgood, A Widow. 
 Mrs. Gotam, Wife to Gotam. 
 Mrs. Squeeze, Wife to Squeeze. 
 Nancy, Suckdrijs Daughter. 
 
 The Scene : — 
 LONDON. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 It is so hard to please, when things must be 
 
 ]\Iouldy -svith age, or gilt with novelty ; 
 
 That, in effect, 'tis but a cross or pile '"* 
 
 In all that's written, whether well or ill. 
 
 Nor have we ventured on this liberty, 
 
 That we suspect your judgements ; no, they're free, 
 
 Free as that reason that inform'd them first. 
 
 And, were those common clogs of interest 
 
 Once shaken off, would be the same again. 
 
 What shall I say 1 Shall I entreat ye then 1 
 
 A poor inducement, if ye will not do it. 
 
 Out of good nature let me bribe ye to it. 
 
 Ay ! , now ye hearken ; but mistake me not, 
 
 AYe give no money back, that were a plot 
 Upon ourselves ; yet we have as good a shift. 
 Ye that would learn to thrive, we'll teach ye thrift ; 
 And ye that would get more ; why faith, for you. 
 We have, the Lord knows what, new projects too ; 
 And you — I do forget myself To run too far 
 May chance to cloy ye ere you see your fare. 
 
 * Head or tail. Chance. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Act I. — Scene l 
 
 Enter Suckdry, solus, as coming from a journey. 
 
 Suck Now, send that all things be well at home. 
 But, troth, I half doubt it, my mind so misgives me. 
 It could not be for nothing, sure, that the rats ate a 
 hole in my pocket last night, and a crow kept scraping 
 and cawing at me this morning. Uh ! my fears are 
 out. This rogue has given me the slip, and is run 
 away with my cloak bag. 
 
 Enter Lean chops, with a cloak bag under his arm. 
 
 Oh, Leanchops ! Art thou come 1 I profess thou 
 didst half fright me. This London is so villanous a 
 wide place, I was afraid I had lost thee, and must 
 have been at the charge of crying thee. Art thou 
 come, rogue 1 
 
 Lean. As you see, sir; but, it seems, must thank 
 this for your care and my welcome. And yet I'll 
 undertake it might have slept safe on a dunghill for 
 anything that's in 't. 
 
 Suck Away, sirrah ! I have often told you of your 
 surly proud heart ; sirrah, sirrah ! he that scorns a 
 little shall never be master of a great deal. No more, 
 I say, but stand forth, and let's see whether we have 
 lost anything by the journey. 
 
 [He takes out a roll, and reads. 
 
 "Lazarus Suckdry !" Ay, God wot, a poor man, — 
 as poor as Lazarus. I must be contented. Here I 
 am. " Zachary Leanchops !" 
 
 Lean. Here, sir. 
 
218 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Suck. 'Tis well ; let's on. "Item, one horse, three 
 shoes and a half, two stirrups, one saddle, one bridle, 
 one girth, one crupper, and half a saddle-cloth !" 
 
 Lean. All safe and forthcoming. 
 
 Suck Very well. Observe — " One doublet with a 
 new pair of foreskirts, one pair of breeches with a 
 blue codpiece point, one pair of stockings." 
 
 Lean. Without feet, sir. 
 
 Suck No matter, no matter; 'tis not seen. "One 
 pair of boots, one spur and spur-leather, one pair of 
 gloves, one basket-hilt sword, one girdle hanger, one 
 hat, one band, one coat, one jump,* and one switch." 
 
 Lean. All in view. 
 
 Sitck "Item, in the cloak bag, one Sessions* suit and 
 cloak, one pair of blue stockings with orange-coloured 
 garters and roses, three shoes, one comb with five 
 teeth, one razor, half a washing ball, and a piece of a 
 glass." Let me see, is it fast 1 All safe — ^ha 1 
 
 Lean. As you left it. He deserves to be damn'd 
 after it that would venture a hanging by stealing any 
 of 't. [Aside. 
 
 Suck Come, Leanchops, come ! this place is a little 
 too pubHc. We'll look over the rest when we come 
 home. 
 
 Lean. Unless we chance to meet a ragman by the 
 way, and then — rags to rags and rubbish to rubbish. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Suck Follow me, and have a care — here comes a 
 couple ! 
 
 Lnter Jocose and Driver. 
 
 One does not know what they may do. Have a care, 
 I say ; have a care ! 
 
 Joe. Mr. Suckdry, your servant ! Welcome to town. 
 
 Suck Thank you, good sir. Uh — uh ! he believes I 
 have money in my cloak bag. Would I were well rid 
 of him ! [Aside, walking. 
 
 Joe. How do you ^ You do not look well. Let me 
 give you a glass of wine ; 'twill comfort your heart. 
 * A waistcoat. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 219' 
 
 Suck. Wine ! uh — uh ! I dare not ; my doctor tells 
 me 'tis naught for me. I was right — he thinks I have 
 got money, and would make me drunk, to steal my 
 cloak bag. Uh — uh ! [Aside. 
 
 Joe. Come ; it shall cost you nothing ! 
 
 Such. Another time. Uh — ^uh ! This rogue Lean- 
 chops has smelt out my gold at home, and told him 
 where it lies buried. Uh — uh ! [Aside. 
 
 Joe. What ails you, sir ? 
 
 Such. Uh — uh ! sick ! A fit of the colic. I must home. 
 
 Joe. But perhaps I have somewhat to say to you 
 may deserve your stay. You have a daughter 1 
 
 Su£h. A poor girl, God wot. What of her 1 
 
 Joe. Call her not poor; she that is virtuous and 
 handsome is rich enough. 
 
 Such. Ah, sir ; but every man is not of your 
 opinion. Alas ! poor child ! she wants a portion. 
 There's something else requir'd besides virtue and 
 handsomeness. This may bring admirers, that sweets 
 hearts ; but 'tis money, money that gets the husband ! 
 
 Joe. Let not that trouble you. I have a son, and 
 though I say it, a handsome fellow ; one that, throw 
 him where you will, shall live in the world. 
 
 Such. But I can give nothing with my daughter. 
 Poor wench ! she's a right philosopher ; she carries all 
 she has about her. Good sir, do not abuse our poverty. 
 Uh— uh ! 
 
 Joe. Nor do I. Here's my hand ; I'm in earnest. 
 What say you ? 
 
 Suck I have told you already ; she has no money. 
 
 Joe. And I have answered it. Shall we bring 'em 
 together 1 
 
 Such. For that as you please; you know her portion. 
 Uh — uh ! I am sick, and cannot stay to talk it longer 
 now. Farewell, sir ! This is a trap to catch my gold ; 
 but he may be mistaken — old rats are not so easily 
 taken as young cats think. Uh — uh ! [Aside. 
 
 [Exeunt Suckdry and Leanchops. 
 
 Joe. Farewell ! My son and I'll see you within a 
 few days. 
 
220 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Dri. But, with your leave, sir, I hope you are not 
 in earnest. 
 
 Joe. No ? but I am. And if I can but compass it, 
 shall think it the best day's work I ever did in my 
 life. This fellow, as poor as he seems, tell him but of 
 a good mortgage, shall lend you ten thousand pounds 
 upon 't at a day's warning, and yet would have the 
 world believe him to be a poor man. And such, in 
 troth, he is, since he dares not enjoy what he has ; 
 for, o' my conscience, were he now sick in earnest, 
 he would rather die, to save charges, than be at the 
 expense of a glister. 
 
 Dri. A man would wonder at it; yet such I've 
 heard of 
 
 Joe. But beyond him, I think, few. I have had this 
 design in my head a long time, and made him many 
 a mortgage, and kept touch with him at his day, 
 merely to beget an opinion in him that I had great 
 dealings in the world, when yet I have found enough 
 to do to keep my head above water. 
 
 Dri. Do not despair, sir ; but think how I may be 
 ser^dceable to you, and see what I'll do. A mounte- 
 bank's zany shall not be at more command, nor half 
 so nimble, as I'll be industrious. 
 
 Joe. I do believe thee, and perhaps may have 
 occasion to try you sooner than you think of 't. 
 
 Dri. Never too soon, nor nothing too much, to serve 
 so good and bountiful a master ! 
 
 Joe. Well, then, to be serious. I have a great while 
 gone the plain downright honest way, but I find that 
 begets nothing but laughter ; and therefore I'm ev'n 
 resolv'd to follow the rest of the world — that is to say, 
 feed the humours of fools ; and if they will set up 
 windmills in their heads, contribute my assistance 
 to cut out the sails. When saw you Sir Gudgeon 
 Credulous ? 
 
 Dri. Very lately ; but so big with contemplation, 
 there was no coming near him. 'Tis true he cried, 
 -'How does your master? Eemember me to him!" 
 gave me the state nod, and — exit. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 221 
 
 Joe. 'Tis such a political hocus, such a frippery of 
 shreds and parings, that I can liken him to nothing 
 better than a tailor's cushion, — no two pieces of the 
 same colour, — to-day this, to morrow that, the next a 
 third thing ; but what that is, no man knows. 'Tis past 
 all men's understanding, and his own too; for, to speak 
 truth, he never had more than a man might well truss 
 up in an egg-shell, and room to spare. In a word, I 
 may say of him, as 'tis said of nature concerning 
 monsters, he was produc'd, not intended. 
 
 Dri. Nor have you mistook your character. I have 
 known him a mathematician, a pol,* a star-gazer, a 
 quack, a Chaldean, a schoolman, a philosopher, an ass, 
 a broken grammarian, and most abominable poet, and 
 yet sick of all — but the ass ; and now at last, if I mis- 
 take him not, a most confident ignorant projector. 
 
 Joe. And that he may thank me for. I saw he was 
 past the remedy of a mortar, and if I should have 
 pretended to a miracle, to have reduc'd him, 'twould 
 have been hardly belie v'd; and therefore I ev'n let him 
 alone, and, as I saw occasion, work'd him to my own 
 purpose. Methinks you might be useful to me in 't. 
 
 Dri, And will. I am your servant ; command it. 
 • Joe. Here dwells hard by one Mistress Godsgood, a 
 rich widow, to whom I have made some long pretences ; 
 nor had they been, as I am told, altogether success- 
 less, if this coxcomb's estate had not hung in my 
 light. She believes him what he is, an ass, but yet a 
 golden ass, and cries that's enough to cover his other 
 faults. Now, could I flay him of that fine skin, I need 
 not trouble myself to make him ridiculous, and con- 
 sequently do mine own work, 
 
 Dri. And truly he's in a fair way to 't. And now, 
 give me leave to tell you, you could have thought of 
 nothing wherein I could have serv'd you better. 
 
 Joe. I know thou hast been bred a scholar, and thy 
 invention not ill. But canst thou cant 1 
 
 Dri. How think you, sir *? Suppose I should tell him 
 
 * Query, a polemic? i.e. a disputant, a controversist, or, it may- 
 be, a preacher. 
 
222 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 I had studied the Emporeuticks, Lemnicks, Camnicks, 
 and Plegnicks ; could demonstrate the minimum quod 
 sit of Homocrecious and Heterocrasious ; and, stripping 
 Materia Prima to her smock, discover the most private 
 recesses and occult qualities of Ignicadrillica, Metal- 
 lorgonica, Euricatactica, and Hydropanta Pressoria? 
 Do you believe, I say, he would be able to understand 
 more of it than I do myself, which is just nothing 1 
 If you call this canting, let me alone with him ! 
 
 Joe. Excellent ! Then, to subdivide them into as 
 undemonstrable, yet seemingly probable, projects. 
 We shall make such sport ! 
 
 Enter Ferdinand. 
 
 Dri And yet good money, I warrant you, sir. But 
 see, my young master ! yet, methinks, not so merry 
 at heart as we are. 
 
 Joe. Now, Nando ! what news with you? Thou art 
 as spruce as if thou hadst been with thy young widow, 
 yet look'st as heavy as she had tum'd thee to lead. 
 How goes it 1 
 
 Fer. Why, faith, sir, I just came from her. 
 
 Joe. And what 1 How did she receive thee 1 
 
 Fer. So, so — the city way ; but at last I had laugh'd 
 her into a pretty good humour, till, as the devil would 
 have it, in dropt her uncle, and quite damp'd all with 
 a noise of jointures and I know not what — a disease, 
 I think, I shall be last troubled with. To be short, 
 she did in effect tell me she was handsome, and would 
 never marry but to better her fortune. 
 
 Joe. Let her go ! let her go ! If thou wilt not be 
 wanting to thyself, I'll put thee upon a better, and 
 one that shall never cheat thee by pretending to be 
 richer than she is ; for, in a word, she is not worth 
 one groat ! 
 
 Fer. What do you mean, sir 1 
 
 Joe. A good wife, and, for aught I ever heard, may 
 make a virtuous wife. 
 
 Fer. No ready money, sir 1 Methinks half one half 
 t'other were somewhat like. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 223^ 
 
 Joe. Let not that trouble you. Her father is rich, 
 very rich, and has no other child to leave his estate to, 
 and shall rather put her off to an ordinary fortune 
 with nothing, than give an hundred pounds to marry 
 her to the best estate in London. 
 
 Fer. And who may this be, good sir ? 
 
 Joe. Old Suckdry's daughter. 
 
 Fer. I could like it well ; but how is it to be done "? 
 
 Joe. Not with that tossing feather, lewd periwig, 
 lac'd band, flaunting linen, embroider'd belt, wide slops, 
 shop of ribbons, and vile porte-canons ! * 
 
 Fer. AVhy, sir, you have seen them all before ! 
 
 Joe. Nor am I angry with thee for doing as other 
 people do. No ; I had rather have thee comport thyself 
 to every man's humour — with old men, severe j with 
 young, jocund ; with the humoursome, morose ; with 
 women, galliard ; with thy companions, pleasant ; and 
 with a niggardly rascal, more sordid than himself — at 
 least appear so. And so would I have thee treat this 
 fellow. 
 
 Fer. If that were all, I could easily follow your 
 directions. 
 
 Joe. And you may not repent it. Go ! be rul'd by 
 me. Strip all this trumpery ; 'tis enough to fright him. 
 Should he see thee now, he'd swear the feathers were 
 more worth than the bird. Go, I say, and get me 
 some little odd hat, but quite out of fashion ; a di- 
 minutive band, no cuffs, hair shorter than your eye- 
 brows, at most not beyond your ears ; close breeches, 
 greasy gloves, Gresham shoes, leather shoe-ties ; and 
 for your cloak, no matter if it be of another parish, 
 — he'll like it the better. 
 
 Fer. My acquaintance would laugh at me. 
 
 Joe. Get thou the money, and laugh at them, boy ! 
 Then, for your discourse, — get me together all the base, 
 ill, sordid tricks of a covetous wretch, and deliver 
 them as morals ; wonder at the ignorance of the age, 
 
 * Or ' canions ; ' rolls at the bottom of the breeches imiQediately 
 below the knee. They were sometimes indented like a screw ; the 
 common ones were called straight canions. See Strutty ii. 148. 
 
224 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 that knows not those honest thrifty rules, or, if it do, 
 its shame in not practising them. 
 
 Fer. Well, sir, I see you are in earnest, and for 
 once I'll try what I can do. But I doubt 
 
 Joe. Do ; and ne'er doubt it. About it straight 
 while 'tis hot, and leave the rest to me ! 
 
 Fer. You have commanded, and I shall not dispute. 
 But if I bring it to pass, I may well swear miracles 
 are not ceas'd ! [Exit. 
 
 Joe. Come, let's be gone ! Thou knowest the plague's 
 in the city, and if I stay longer, 'tis odds but I may 
 be infected. 
 
 Enter Sir Gudgeon Credulous. 
 
 Dri. I hope, sir, you do not fear Sir Gudgeon 
 Credulous? 
 
 Joe. no ! he's a good preservative against it. 
 
 Dri. I told you he was as big as he could hold. 
 Do you not observe, sir, how hard he wrings his brows, 
 to the manifest hazard of disblocking his periwig? 
 Will you not speak to him ? 
 
 Joe. Presently. Let's view him a little ! 
 
 Sir Gud. It must take without doubt, and the profit 
 be infinite ; no man knows what. But for the manner 
 of doing it : — this way ? no ; it may be certain, but 'tis 
 too far about the bush. That way ? no ; for though 
 it be the shorter cut, we may yet be too hasty in the 
 experiment. T'other way? neither; the charge will too 
 vast. Hang charge ! we shall quickly fetch 't up again. 
 All I fear is, the thing will be so considerable, it may 
 chance to be begg'd from us ; and against that there's 
 no other fence but to swear 'tis worth nothing. That 
 was well thought on. Then, after this, comes my widow ! 
 I shall be but too rich ! — One Jupiter ! there could be 
 no less than ten Jupiters lords of my nativity ! 
 
 Joe. Sir Gudgeon Credulous ! save you ! I see there's 
 hopes of the business, you mind it so well. Have you 
 made any experiment ? 
 
 Sir Gud. Yes ; but I do not find it altogether answer 
 expectation. How^ever, 'tis but early days yet. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 225 
 
 Joe. Pray be very curious in it; and Driver, to whom 
 I have committed the management of my interest, 
 shall assist you. I must tell you he's no ordinary 
 artist. 
 
 Sir Gud. Better and better ! Then he has seen it ? 
 
 Dri. Seen it, sir ! If I should tell your worship all 
 I have seen, I should despair of the work ; 'twould so 
 put you out of patience ! 
 
 Sir Gud. Good Driver ! And how ? and when 1 
 
 Dri. Did not I tell you; you would not have 
 patience^ Good sir, let things do themselves — one 
 minute's over haste is enough to put us a twelvemonth 
 back ; for it fares here as with the philosopher's stone, 
 the least error in the work and we must begin all anew. 
 
 Sir Gud. Honest Mr. Driver, I will be rul'd ! 
 
 Enter Gotam, a note-book under his arm. 
 
 Got. 'Tis he ! I have his name here fast in my book 
 in good black and white. Let me see — E, F, G, H, 
 I, J, J — Jo, Jo, Jo — Jocose ; here 'tis — Jocose, page 
 150. "Mr. Jocose, for himself and wife, £108, 7s. 9d. 
 ob." A good round sum. Would I had it ! I could be 
 content to bate him the single money ! 
 ' Joe. But hark you. Driver ! thou seest this pagan 
 cousin of mine, and know'st his business 1 Prithee put 
 him off with some whim or other. 
 
 Bri. I warrant you, sir ; leave him to me ! 
 
 Joe. Cousin ! your servant. I was just sending my 
 man to speak with you ; but he knows the business, and 
 can tell 't you as well as myself Come, Sir Gudgeon ; 
 I'll wait on you ! [Exeunt Sir Gudgeon and Jocose. 
 
 Got. Your servant, sir ; I thank you. 
 
 Dri. Now, Mr. Gotam, you may see what 'tis to 
 have a friend at court. You thought, I warrant, my 
 master had forgotten you. 
 
 Got. Why, truly, sir, this money has been due a 
 pretty while — long before his wife died, I am certain. 
 
 Dri. No more of that ! Suppose he put you on a 
 business shall make you for ever, and be worth ye ; 
 thou hast hardly faith enough to believe, what ! 
 p 
 
226 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Got Ah ! good Mr. Driver ; as how, I pray ] 
 
 Dri. Why, thus : My master, you know, has great 
 friends, and therefore doubts not but by their assist- 
 ance to procure a patent of privilege to engross a 
 business solely to himself I must confess it will 
 scarce amount to more than a copyhold project. 
 
 Got. What do you mean by that ? 
 
 Dri. That is to say, it will not exceed ten thousand 
 pound a year. And I can assure you, if ever there 
 w^ere an ingenious invention, 'tis this ; and in this my 
 master intends to take you in with him, and let you 
 go what share you please. You shall do no worse 
 than himself ! 
 
 Got. Ah, sir, my cousin is an honest gentleman, and 
 I have had long experience of his love ! How do ye 
 call it % 
 
 Dri. 'Tis an ignick, hydrelick, and hydroterrick in- 
 vention, consisting of heat without fire or smoke ! 
 And certainly nature and art melted down into the 
 same body could not produce such another diacatho- 
 licon that shall equally serve to all purposes, — roast, 
 bake, boil, wash, brew, dry malt, hops, wheat, oats, 
 and generally everything else, as I told you before, 
 without the help of fire or smoke ! Now, sir, you 
 know the business, and may consider of it. 
 
 Got. Consider ! I apprehend it already, and find it 
 too great to be dallied with. Why, it will destroy all 
 the woodmongers upon the river, and reduce them to 
 their first dung-boats again ! How have you done 
 touching the charge ? 
 
 Dri. Truly you have hit upon one of the main 
 points, and part of the reason why my master made 
 you privy to it. For, as on one hand we must take in 
 some sharers to lessen the charge, so on t'other it 
 behoves us to consider how many we may admit, for 
 fear of diminishing the profits ! 
 
 Got. Most true ! we'll carry 't on between ourselves. 
 It will fall to my turn to be churchwarden this next 
 year, and then I shall have the custody of the parish 
 stock. If that will serve you, command it ; we shall 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 227 
 
 be able, I hope, to fetch it up again before my time be 
 out. 
 
 Dri. By much. But the business is now on foot, 
 and must not stand still for fear of spoiling, and there- 
 fore we must be provided of present money; because, 
 you know, some fees must be scatter'd among servants 
 and clerks, and some other will go to making of trials. 
 Things will not come without charge ! 
 
 Got. You say right ! And now I think on 't, I may 
 be able to bring in my neighbour Squeeze, the Exchange 
 broker, and by his means old Mr. Suckdry and Mrs. 
 Godsgood. There's money enough at an hour's warn- 
 ing, if one could tell how to get it ! 
 
 Dri. Pray, about it, and I'll see you to-morrow. If 
 you go forth, leave word where I may find you. Fare- 
 well ! I must follow my master. The knight and he 
 are gone to see a proof of what I told you. 
 
 [Exit Driver. 
 
 Got. Farewell ! but mum. Certain I rise with the 
 right end upward to-day, I have had such good luck ! 
 I shall be an alderman, I see, in spite of all three-half- 
 penny stars ! I think a brass jack-Kne would hang as 
 well o' my shoulders as on another man's — certain it 
 must. But see, my wife ! 
 
 Enter Mistress Gotam. 
 
 This hyterridinctido will be news to her, — i' faith will 
 it ! Sweetheart ! well met ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. I had as lief ha' found you at home. The 
 main chance goes well forward in the meantime, and 
 you never in your shop ! God held ! a beggar I found 
 thee, and a beggar thou'lt leave me 1 
 
 Got. Nay, wife, I have good news for thee. I have 
 been with my cousin ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. And has he paid you the money '? I am 
 sure 't has been due ever since my first husband's 
 time ! 
 
 Got. 'Tis sure enough ! not too hasty, wife ; we are 
 beholden to him. You know he took notice of me at 
 
228 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 court, show'd you the privy lodgings, got you a place 
 at the play, gave you a bottle of the king's wine and 
 a court tart, and sends us venison twice in a season, 
 wife ! 
 
 Mrs. Got Better he had sent his money, and I could 
 have got t'other myself 1 Marry gip ! this is one of 
 your old excuses. You think you have got a wife can 
 maintain you, and now, forsooth, you must walk like 
 a gentleman ! Sirrah, sirrah, look out and mind your 
 business, or I'll make you look out ! 
 
 Got. Good faith, I do. 
 
 Mrs. Got. Yes, among your gills too much ! What 
 was that you said to our maid t'other night in the 
 kitchen, when you thought I was abed ? I heard 
 you. You mought* have come up a pair of stairs 
 higher if you had pleas'd. I don't wonder now she 
 'as lost her stomach ! 
 
 Got. This is nothing but thy jealous head. 
 
 3frs. Got. Jealous ! Come up here ! You can be 
 merry enough abroad when you are amongst your 
 flirts, but at home you're as sad and lumpish as a 
 gibb'd cat ! I can tell you the reason, — thou art sad 
 because thou canst not bury me ! I half doubt the 
 ratsbane you bought t'other day was not altogether for 
 the rats ! Do you understand that, gentleman 1 
 
 Got. Not I, in troth. 
 
 Ifrs. Got. No, you won't ! you can understand your 
 gossips well enough ! 'Tis a fine thing you must be 
 perpetually hopping after them; and I, forsooth ! I 
 cannot walk in the fields with a friend, but, whoop ! 
 the house is too little for you ! My first husband was 
 another kind of man ; my finger could not ache but he 
 I woo's ! — nothing was too good for me. When will 
 you say, " Dear wife ! honey wife ! sugar wife ! how 
 dost thou ? Dost want anything 1 Would'st have a 
 new gown 1 Go abroad 1 Walk to Islington 1 See the 
 bears 1 Go whither thou wilt, do what thou hast a 
 mind to, I am not jealous 1" Here was a husband ! 
 
 [She cries. 
 
 * Might, must. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 229 
 
 Got Prithee, have done ! I told thee I had been 
 with my cousin, and have good news for thee ! 
 
 Mrs. Got As what, I warrant ? 
 
 Got What ! Such as shall make thee a lady within 
 this twelvemonth ! My cousin and I are engag'd in 
 a business cannot be less worth than fifteen thousand 
 pounds a year honestly ! Now, wife, where's your 
 loving husband % 
 
 Mrs, Got Whatever I say in my passion thou 
 
 art 'Tis but only to make thee better ! But 
 
 hark ye, my dearl sha'nt we not keep a coach then ? 
 
 Got A coach ! Yes, and eight horses ; and our 
 country house new built ! Come, follow me ! and I'll 
 tell thee the rest within, which I would have thee 
 communicate to your friend Mrs. Godsgood, and bring 
 her in for a share, while I do the same to my neigh- 
 bour Squeeze, the Exchange broker ! Come ! 
 
 Mrs. Got Anything, good husband ! I'll be thy best 
 wife ! [Exeunt 
 
 Act II. — Scene i. 
 
 Enter Leanchops, solus. 
 
 Lean. Well ! o' my conscience there was never so 
 unlucky a fellow as myself ! Service, do you call it 1 
 Certainly, if damnation be only poena sensus, that were 
 a fitter name for it ! Here I live with a master that 
 has wealth enough ; but so fearful, sad, pensive, sus- 
 picious a fellow, that he disquiets both himself and 
 every one else ! Art, I have heard say, has but seven 
 liberal sciences, but he has a thousand illiberal ! There 
 lives not a more base, niggardly, unsatiable pinch- 
 penny, nor a more gaping, griping, polling,* extorting, 
 devouring cormorant ! A sponge sucks not up faster, 
 and yet a pumice gives back easier ! The sign is 
 * Thieving, cheating. 
 
230 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 always with him in the clutches ; and a kite's pouncke 
 truss'"' not more readily ! He shall watch you a young 
 heir as diligently as a raven a dying horse, and yet > 
 swallow him with more tears than a crocodile ! He i^ 
 never sleeps but he seals up the nose of his belloTvs, 4 
 lest they lose breath, and has almost broke his ' 
 brains to find the like device for his chimney and his 
 throat ! A gamester has not studied the advantage 
 of dice half so much as he a sordid parsimony, -which 
 yet he calls thrift ; and will tell you to a crumb how 
 much difference there is in point of loss between a 
 hundred dozen of bread broken with the hand and cut 
 with a knife ! The devil's in him, and I am as weary 
 of him as of our last journey, which both of us per- 
 form'd on the same horse ! As thus : — In the morning, 
 about two hours before him, out gets Peel Garlick, he 
 jogs after, overtakes me, rides through the next town 
 and a little beyond it, leaves palfrey agrazing for me and 
 marches on himself In like manner I get up, overtake 
 him, ride on, and leave him on this side the next town, 
 and so order our business, that he rides out in the 
 morning and into the inn at night, and through every 
 town by the way. Nor need we fear any man's steal- 
 ing him ! Smithfield, at the end of a long vacation, 
 can't show such another wall-ey'd, crestfallen, saddle- 
 back'd, flat-ribb'd, gut-founder'd, shoulder-pitch'd, spur- 
 gall'd, hip-shotten, grease-moulten jade, besides splint, 
 spavin, glanders, farce, stringhalt, sprains, scratches, 
 malander, and wind-galls innumerable ! Like the 
 fool's hobbyhorse, were it not for the name of a horse 
 a man had as lief go afoot ; and thus we jog on in grief 
 together. But hold ! I hear him — somewhat's amiss ! 
 
 Enter Suckdry. 
 
 Suck. Undone, undone ! whither should I run % 
 whither should I not run % Stop there ! Whom % — 
 what % — where % — I know not ! Leanchops ! 
 
 * Pouncke — i.e. 'pounces,' — the talons or claws of a bird of 
 prey. ' Trussing,' in falconry, is the hawk soaring up with any 
 fowl or prey, and then descending with it. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 231 
 
 Lean. Sir, what ails you ? 
 
 Suck. Oh ! a lost undone man ! What a deal of 
 misery a day brings forth ! I have lost my money, 
 and what should I live longer 1 Hunger and poverty 
 will be my end ! 
 
 Lean. How much have you lost, sir 1 
 
 Suck. I believe thou knowest as well as I. Ah ! a 
 whole half-piece ! gone, gone, gone, and I undone ! I 
 believe thou hast found it ! Open your coat ! let's see 
 your right hand ! your left hand — both hands — your 
 third hand ! Ah, no hopes ! undone, undone ! 
 
 Lean. Pray, sir, search ! Perhaps it may be about 
 you ; you have many pockets ! 
 
 Suck. Impossible, impossible ! Uh ! 
 
 \They seccrch, and find it in a dirty cloth. 
 
 Lean. Why, see now! may not you be asham'd to 
 use me thus — and for nothing too 1 
 
 Suck. Asham'd ! What should a poor man do with 
 shame 1 Get in ! get in ! 
 
 Lean. 'Tis past three of the clock, and I have eat 
 nothing to-day ! 
 
 Suck. This rogue's mind is nothing but his gut! 
 A good thrifty servant, that minded his master's profit, 
 -would have gone to the cook's and cheapen'd every 
 joint, tasted all, but bought none, and made a good 
 meal on 't ! One would think, sirrah, you might not 
 be asham'd to do what your master has done before 
 you ! Get in, I say, and look to the house ! 
 
 Lean. There's no fear that any one will carry 't away ; 
 and, for anything in 't, there's nothing but cobwebs ! 
 
 Suck What's that he mutters ? No marvel, sirrah, 
 if for your sake I am not made an alderman ! I will 
 have the cobwebs preserv'd ; they are good for a cut 
 finger ! Get in, I say ! How the slave stirs ! If I 
 come to ye, I'll mend your snail's pace ! 
 
 Lean. One were better be hang'd than endure this life ! 
 
 Suck. How he mumbles the devil's ;paternoster ! 
 Sirrah, get in! and stir one foot till I call ye and thou 
 hast as good have broken thy neck ! So ; he's gone ! 
 
 [Exit Leanchops. 
 
232 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 And I'll go visit my gold ! I am afraid I have spoken 
 in my sleep, or dropp'd some word or other that may 
 discover it, or that this rogue has eyes in his poll, 
 and observ'd where I buried it ; but if he has, I'll so 
 dig 'um out ! I have reason enough to suspect it — 
 men speak more heartily to me than they were wont, 
 are more free in their salutes, stop and talk with me, 
 shake me by the hand, ask me how I do, whither I am 
 going, what's my business, if they may serve me, and 
 the like 1 Nay, Mr. Jocose t'other day would have 
 giv'n me wine, and profFer'd his son should marry my 
 daughter — without a portion, too ! Ah — ha ! I do not 
 like when rich men speak kindly to a poor man; they 
 offer bread with one hand, but carry a stone in t'other ! 
 But I lose time ! — my gold, my gold ! This must be 
 the place ! All's safe, and I'm alive again ! All 
 hail ! — [A board sinks, arid his bags are discovered.] — 
 Thou that givest form to everything ! thou sun of 
 life ! thou guardian that protectest us I thou regent 
 of the world, that disposeth of all things as thou best 
 pleaseth, and without whom human society would 
 quickly fall in pieces ! For, whatever else may be 
 call'd the girdle, I am sure thou art the buckle that 
 hold'st it together ! There ! rest in peace, my better 
 angels ! — [He covers it again.] — And while I call 
 ye mine, let the world frown, laugh, point, or hiss 
 — one glance of yours is worth it all; and I shall 
 want nothing but too few arms to hug myself! I 
 shall be courted by every man, welcome everywhere — 
 at least from the teeth outwards ; for in this world 
 gold seasons and relishes everything, and men are 
 received, not for the ass's, but the goddess's sake ! 
 'Tis like having a handsome wife — every man is, or 
 would be, your servant ! Ho ! Leanchops ! Lean- 
 chops ! 
 
 Enter Leanchops. 
 
 Lean. Your pleasure, sir 1 
 
 Suck. I am going abroad, Leanchops ! Shut the 
 door after me, bolt it and bar it, and see you let no 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 233 
 
 one in in my absence. Put out the fire, if there be 
 any, for fear somebody, seeing the smoke, may come 
 to borrow some ! If any one come for water, say the 
 pipe's cut off; or to borrow a pot, knife, pestle and 
 mortar, or the like, say they were stole last night ! 
 But hark ye ! I charge ye not to open the door to 
 give them an answer, but whisper 't through the key- 
 hole ! For, I tell you again, I will have nobody come 
 into my hoiise while I'm abroad ! No ; no living soul ! 
 Nay, though Good Fortune herself knock at a door, 
 don't let her in ! 
 
 Lean. She'll have care enough of that herself. She 
 has been often near us, but I think there is a cross 
 upon the door — she ne'er came in yet ! 
 
 Suck. Sirrah, sirrah, hold your peace, and do as I 
 bid you ! 'Twould better become you to know more 
 and speak less ! See it be done ! — [Knock within.] — 
 See who's at door ; but let not one in till you have 
 brought me word ! [Exit Leanchops. 
 
 What a misery 'tis to be thought rich — one or other 
 is perpetually haunting him ; while the poor man yet 
 is rich in this, that he's troubled with none of it ! He 
 fears neither thieves nor quartering of soldiers ! He 
 is exempt from rates and parish duties ! He sleeps 
 securely without bolts, and is subject to no man's 
 envy ! Every man's trencher is his table, ever}'' place 
 his own country, and lives in peace with all men but 
 the justice, the constable, and the beadle ! 
 
 Enter Leanchops. 
 
 How now 1 Who was 't ? 
 
 Lean. Mr. Squeeze, your Exchange broker ! He 
 would fain speak with you ! 
 
 Suck. ! let him in by all means. He is a good 
 man, and never comes empty-handed ! Make haste 
 before he be gone, sirrah ! [Exit. 
 
 This rogue will never learn wit ! One would have 
 thought he had liv'd long enough with me to have 
 been able to distinguish persons ! I must ev'n discard 
 him ; 'twill save charges !■ 
 
234 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Entef Squeeze, Sir Gudgeon Credulous, Mrs. 
 GoDSGOOD, and Gotam. 
 
 Squ. I'll show you the way, gentlemen ! I have 
 some interest in my pocket for him, and will pay him 
 that first ; 'twill make him more supple ! I was just 
 coming, sir, to wait on you with some money that I 
 had receiv'd for you, and met with these gentlemen 
 coming to me about a hke business, and I ev'n brought 
 'em with me. 'Tis \Theij iohis;per. 
 
 Suck. 0, they are welcome^they are welcome ! and 
 chiefly yourself 1 It came in good time, for I profess 
 I had hardly a groat in the house ! 
 
 Got. How ^ Then our business is done already ! 
 What's worse than ill luck 1 [To Squeeze. 
 
 Squ. Please you to tell it over 1 The overplus is 
 for continuance. [He whispers it. 
 
 Suck. Don't speak so loud ! I understand you ! 
 
 [Goes aside and counts it. 
 
 Squ. Let him alone awhile ; let him handle the 
 money 1 He means he has never a groat he would 
 spare by his goodmll ! [They whisper. 
 
 Suck. 'Tis all right and well, only here's a Parlia- 
 ment sixpence ; pray change it ! 
 
 Squ. How was I mistaken ? There, sir ! 
 
 Suck. Hark you, neighbour ! what's their business ? 
 
 Squ. Such as you never dealt in before — the most 
 ingenioust invention was ever yet found out ! I'll 
 undertake, after the first year, you may make cent, 
 per cent, of your money every three months, besides 
 a certain bank ready upon all occasions ! 
 
 Suck. Say you so, good Mr. Squeeze ? As how — as 
 how? 
 
 Squ. They'll tell you that themselves. You know 
 Mr. Gotam 1 — he has been always held a sober man ! 
 
 Suck. Indeed has he, and well to pass. He is of 
 the livery, and in a short time will be master of his 
 company. He married the Widow Mince ! I knew 
 her first husband ; he was a thriving man ! 
 
 Squ. Marry was he ! But the business is of so 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 235 
 
 great a concernment that 'tis not one or two ordinary 
 men's purses are able to carry it on. The other is Sir 
 Gudgeon Credulous, a worthy wise knight, and in his 
 own country of the peace and quorum. 
 
 Suck He seems no other. 
 
 Squ. There is a gentlewoman, too — one Mistress 
 Godsgood ! 
 
 Suck. 0, I have heard of her ! A rich widow 1 
 
 Squ. That she is, o' my knowledge — I deal for her. 
 All persons concerned ; but the main wheel of the 
 work is Mr, Jocose ! Faith, sir, I'd have you come in 
 too ! As poor a man as I am, I am resolv'd to go in 
 five hundred pounds ! 
 
 S2ick But what shall you come out, neighbour 1 — 
 what 
 
 Squ. No man knows what ! You had best speak 
 to 'um. 
 
 Suck How much would they have from me ? 
 
 Squ. That shall be as you please, whether anything 
 or nothing ; only at present they would borrow of you 
 two thousand pound 1 
 
 Suck Two thousand pound ! Do you know what 
 you say ? 
 
 ^ Squ. Yes ; £2000 ! You are too quick for me — I 
 meant upon good security. 
 
 Suck Oh, that alters the case ! Life is frail, man is 
 mortal, but good security may do much ! AVhat is 
 the security ? — Citizens or country gentlemen ? You 
 know my way, — I must have a judgment at least ! 
 
 Squ. Pray talk with 'em yourself. 
 
 Suck You're welcome, mistress ! Sir Gudgeon 
 Credulous, I understand? And you, Mr. Gotam? 
 Your business with me 1 
 
 Sir Chid. The same, sir ! I thought Mr. Squeeze 
 had inform'd you ! 
 
 Got. If he has not, we shall, 
 
 Sitck Whj, truly, he has given me a smaU touch 
 oft. 
 
 Sir Gud. Then thus, sir, — ^we are all persons jointly 
 concern'd in the same business, and we look upon 
 
236 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 the whole charge, what is past and to come, may 
 amount to £9000 — somewhat under a year's profits ! 
 Of this, I am out already £4000 ; the Widow Gods- 
 good advances £1500 more ; Mr. Gotam, £1000 ; Mr. 
 Squeeze, £500 ; and, to make up the sum, we would 
 borrow of you £2000, upon good security ! 
 
 Suck. Alas, sir ! £2000 ! — I am a poor man — 
 £2000 and I are not so near of kin but we may 
 marry to-morrow ! But if your security be like, and 
 you'll be civil to me, I have some friends ! Pray, sir, 
 what is your security ? [Spoken wliiningly. 
 
 Sir Gild. Would the Court of Aldermen were as 
 good ! Security ! 
 
 Enter Leanchops. 
 
 Lean. Sir, there's a gentleman at door inquires for 
 you! 
 
 Got. For me 1 It may be Mr. Jocose. Pray, desire 
 him to come in ! I am glad he found m.e out ! Now 
 you'll be able to see the very guts of the business ! 
 
 Suck. What share goes he ? 
 
 Sir Gud. Alas, sir, none ! 'Tis enough for him that 
 the invention was, and the patent will be, his ! There's 
 reason in all things ! 
 
 Enter Driver. 
 
 Oh, Mr. Driver ! Where's your master ] 
 
 Got. AVhere's my cousin 1 
 
 Dri. He intended to have been with you himself ; 
 but being unluckily taken ill of the gout, he sent me 
 to your house, where I heard of your being here. 
 
 Suck. A good rich disease ! I warrant I shall ne'er 
 be troubled with 't ! 
 
 Dri All that he bade me signify to you was, that 
 the work went well on, and only wanted more work- 
 men and more materials ! 
 
 Sir Gud. We are about it now, and have provided 
 very well for the time. And now you are come, pray 
 save me a labour, and let this gentleman understand 
 the business. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 237 
 
 Dri. Which, sir 1 That of the Plegnic Screw, the 
 Handquern, or the Horse-Wind- Water-Mill % 
 
 Sir Gud. Ha, ha ! 
 
 Suck. Have you more than one 1 
 
 Sir Gud. Divers, divers — which is the reason of the 
 excessive charge ! Though, troth, 'twas more than I 
 knew before ! — [Adde.] — But the more the merrier ! 
 Prithee, let's have that that is now in operation. I 
 think you call'd it the Metalloi'ganicum Ignicadrilli- 
 cum ! 
 
 Dri. You mean that of a constant heat, without 
 fire or smoke 1 
 
 Sir Gud. The same — the same I 
 
 Suck. How is 't possible 1 — which way ? 
 
 Dri. Tell you that, and tell you all ! Every art has 
 its occult quahty, which, once demonstrated, would 
 cease to be a secret, and some other might chance to 
 get between us and home ! However, since here are 
 none but friends, and all well-willers, I "will give ye 
 some small hints of 't, which, to be short, is singly 
 effected by a new kind of motion, — for, you know, 
 motion is the cause of heat, — and this, meeting with 
 matter ready dispos'd, shall either work naturally by 
 itself, or, in cases extraordinary, by an antiperistasis ; 
 and be not only equi-snfficient, equi-cheap, equi-excel- 
 lent, as all minor projects pretend to, but more cheap, 
 more sufficient, and super-excellent, which, when we 
 are better acquainted, I will easily demonstrate ! 
 
 Suck. I'll promise you, if this be able to be made 
 good, 'twill save abundance of wood and coals ! 
 
 Dri. That's least ! What say you to this "? First, 
 There can be no danger of firing ; for, as I told you 
 before, 'tis done without fire ! Secondly, You are not 
 troubled with smoke, the greatest enemy to man's 
 health ! Thirdly, No soot shall fall into the pot, nor 
 fat be lost in the fire ! Fourthly, It shall so preserve 
 the radical moisture, juice, and substance of hops and 
 malt, that whereas now they retain in a manner only 
 their fixed salt and excrementitious dead substance, 
 this shall so conserve their balsamical spirits that 
 
238 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 the brewer shall be able to afford twelve - shilling 
 beer at half-a-crown a barrel, and get more by 't than 
 he does now ! Fifthly, As you well observ'd, no 
 charge of fuel ! Sixthly — which one were enough by 
 itself — It is an invention, or rather a new marvellous 
 art, useful to all and injurious to none, and such as, 
 besides the eternizing our names to posterity, shall 
 give us at present honour, fame, friends, wealth, and, 
 as a consequent of that, everything ! 
 
 [The rest whisper, while Squeeze and 
 SuCKDRY discourse. 
 
 Sqii. What think you of this, sir '? 
 
 Suck. 0' my word, no contemptible business ! I 
 hear he has more on foot — and why mayn't we get 
 one to ourselves % 
 
 Squ. Perhaps you may; and the lending this money 
 may be a good introduction to t'other ! 
 
 Such. Don't you think they would take half money 
 and half jewels? 
 
 Squ. Perhaps they might ; but then you must en- 
 large the sum, or they may want money to carry on 
 the work ! 
 
 Suck. You say right ! What's their security % 
 
 Squ. O' my conscience, if you would but stand 
 upon 't, they'd go near to mortgage to you a third or 
 a fourth part of the clear profits ! 
 
 Suck. Softly ! Don't talk of a fourth ! I'll make 
 'um believe I will have a moiety ; though, rather than 
 fail, I could be contented with less ! 
 
 Squ. If I might advise you, sir {They whisper. 
 
 Dri. Why, truly, to tell you truth, we have made 
 very few proofs of the rest ; but if you will call at 
 my master's, I'll give you that account of 'em may 
 be worth your trouble ! There will be enough for 
 you all ! 
 
 Sir Gud. But hark ye, Mr. Driver, don't you bob 
 me off with a third-rate project now ! 
 
 Dri. Sir Gudgeon, that you should think so ! 
 
 Suck. Do you propose it to 'um ! [To Squeeze. 
 
 Squ. I shall, sir ! Mr. Gotam, you know we pro- 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 239 
 
 pounded £2000 for Mr. Suckdry? I have done the 
 work, and he shall be contented with a third part of 
 the profits for security. I hope you ^vill consider me 
 in my share 1 [Aside. 
 
 Got. And all the reason in the world ! You hear, 
 gentlemen, what he says 1 
 
 Sir Gud. I would have him secured. But I would 
 not, though, leave a twenty-shilling piece in pawn for 
 a groat ! 
 
 Such Alas, sir ! 'tis none of my money — 'tis my 
 friend's, and I'll account truly between you both. If 
 you intend honestly, you cannot give too great se- 
 curity. 
 
 Dri. You may do it ; I'll undertake my master shall 
 not oppose it. 
 
 Sir Gud. Then get ready the writings. I hope we 
 shall have a good account in a short time ! 
 
 Suck. As soon as you please ! — I'll about it straight. 
 We may be all made, and send us but good luck ! 
 
 Sir Gud. Well, sir, farewell for the present ! 
 
 [Exeunt all hut Suckdry and Driver. 
 
 Suck Farewell, good gentlemen ! But stay, Mr. 
 Driver — pray stay ! Let me speak with you ! Me- 
 thought you were saying your master had a great 
 many other projects 1 Surely — surely, he must be a 
 very rich man 1 
 
 Dri. Why, faith, sir, he is well enough, tho' he be 
 at a great deal of charge ; for now and then an engine 
 breaks, and an experiment fails ! Should all take 
 right, he would be too rich; but that's almost im- 
 possible 1 He that will get must now and then ven- 
 ture to lose ! This is our comfort — the first good hit 
 pays for all miscarriages ! 
 
 Suck That's well ! But pray, tell me, what children 
 has your master 1 
 
 Dri. One son, sir, and that's all. I have often ask'd 
 him why he toils himself to leave so great an estate, 
 when the tenth part of what he has already would 
 serve my young master and to spare ! 
 
 Suck No ill sign ! — I like him the better. But dost 
 
240 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 think he was in earnest when he proposed a match 
 between his son and my daughter 1 
 
 Dri. Yes, truly ; if he said it, you may believe him. 
 But, alas ! what should my young master do with all 
 that wealth you two are like to leave him ] 
 
 Such Keep it — keep it — and breed more ! Prithee, 
 tell me, dost think thy master would settle a good 
 swinging project upon him in possession 1 
 
 Dri. Yes, truly, I believe he may. 
 
 Suck. Then, hark you ! pick me out a good round 
 one, and it may not be the worse for thee ! 'Tis the 
 first part of falconry to hold fast ; and if thy young 
 master has that good quality, I dare trust him for the 
 rest, or he may quickly learn it ! 
 
 Dri. I shall be glad with all my heart to be an 
 instrument in the business ! And now, upon second 
 thoughts, I think your daughter may make an excel- 
 lent wife for him ! 
 
 Such. Your reason, good Mr. Driver'? — your reason? 
 
 Dri. Because I have so often heard him protest 
 against your great matches, as he calls 'em, and com- 
 pares 'em to an ill pudding — all blood and no fat. 
 
 Such. I'll be sworn a hopeful young man ! But tell 
 me — ^prithee, be true to me ! — ^what kind of wife does 
 he most affect, if he might have his choice ? 
 
 Dri. What % Ev'n a good honest man's daughter, 
 that shall bring him no charge, nor put him in fear of 
 being eat out by her kindred ! One that shall never 
 send her husband on a how -d'- ye, or keep more 
 coaches in town than he has ploughs going in the 
 country! One that shall not spend his Michaelmas 
 rents in Midsummer moon, and cost him more in 
 sails and rigging than the hull's worth ! 
 
 Such. 'Tis a hundred pities but thou were super- 
 visor-general of the female sex ! 
 
 Dri. Faith, sir, I car'd not much if I were — I should 
 be the better able to serve my friends ; but this is 
 not all ! 
 
 Such. Prithee, on ! I like it well. 
 
 Dri. One that is not haunted with perfumers, lace- 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 241 
 
 men, milliners, silkmen, jewellers, mercers, exchange 
 men, seamsters ; and, heyday ! and can be contented 
 with her husband's tailor ! One that understands not 
 the way of smooth-chinn'd pages, and can find both 
 lackeys and women in a single chambermaid ! One 
 that was never read beyond aquafortis and tinning- 
 glass, and is as much gravelled at Spanish paper and 
 talk as a country vicar at an Hebrew pedigree ! One 
 that has no aunts nor she-cousins to visit, and goes not 
 above thrice a week to the drawers for new patterns ! 
 One, to be short, that is all herself, and thinks it no 
 scorn to be her own seamstress and tirewoman ! 
 
 Suck Say'st thou me so, my heart 1 And if I ha' n't 
 a girl that tits him, she is not like her father ! Come, 
 Mr. Driver, be but assistant in striking up this match, 
 and thou shalt ne'er know what it may be worth 
 thee ! Come ! — ^A man must promise at large though 
 he perform at leisure — hope makes men diligent ! 
 
 [Aside. Exeunt. 
 
 Act III. — Scene i. 
 
 Enter JocosE, Ferdinand, in a Precisian habit, 
 and Driver. 
 
 Joe. Ay, this is something ! I protest I should 
 hardly have known thee myself ! But one thing — 
 I do not like this hat; 'tis so high crown'd, he'll swear 
 'tis mere waste, and three ounces of stuff might have 
 been well sav'd ! 
 
 Fer. That may be quickly mended, either by getting 
 another or circumcising this ! It lies under the band, 
 and will ne'er be seen, or if it should, he'll like it the 
 better. 
 
 Dri. Ne'er doubt it, sir ! It must take, for I have 
 read him such a lecture of my young master's frugality 
 that he is out of all patience till he see him; and if you 
 can but outcant him now, the work's done ! 
 Q 
 
242 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Fer. That must be left to chance ! and yet, 'tis not 
 impossible but I may make my party good with him. 
 Have I liv'd in Genoa, where the Jews come laughing 
 in and go crying out, as having met with greater Jews 
 than themselves, and do you think I shall not be able 
 to deal with him 1 I warrant ye ! 
 
 Joe. Well said, Nando ! A good confidence is half 
 the thing ! 
 
 Fer, But when must this robbery be 1 
 
 Dri. I expect him here instantly, though not pur- 
 posely, about this business ; for my design was to have 
 it come on, as it were, by the by, and of itself ! 
 
 Joe. What other business has he 1 
 
 Dri. Oh, sir, to see how the main work goes for- 
 ward. Besides, he expects you should settle a good 
 lusty project upon my young master, and I am wide 
 of the mark if he is not hammering at another for 
 himself ! And to tell you truth, so they are all ! 
 
 Joe. Now, send that thou hast not engag'd us further 
 than we shall be able to get off fairly ! 
 
 Dri. Pray, sir, trust me! Have I desired you to 
 appear in 't 1 or been wanting to 't in anything my- 
 self? 
 
 Joe. Well, I refer it to thee. But must you have all 
 the sport % Were 't not possible that I might at least 
 laugh inwardly'? 
 
 Dri. I was just making it my request to you that 
 you would so dispose yourself as to overhear the dis- 
 course, and perhaps it may not be unworth your 
 while. For the men, having consider'd that two heads 
 are better than one, have communicated it to their 
 wives, and ask'd their advice in the point ; and they 
 are so agog upon 't that they must have their projects 
 too, and amongst them you'll find your widow ! I 
 never saw things hit more luckily; 'tis impossible but 
 you must carry her! 
 
 Joe. Do you expect 'em here ? 
 
 Dri. I wonder they stay so long, and when they 
 come what they will say! — [Knock within.'] — That 
 knock may chance to be theirs ! 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 243 
 
 Joe. Take the occasion of leaving 'em alone, for 
 perhaps they may be more free amongst themselves 
 than if either of us were present ! 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 Ser. Sir, here are some gentlewomen that inquire 
 for yourself or Mr. Driver ! 
 
 Dri. It must be them ! 
 
 Joe. Desire 'em to walk in ! [Exit Servant. 
 
 Do you tell 'em I am a little busy, but you'll go and 
 acquaint me with it ! You shall find me in that 
 window ! [Exit Jocose and Ferdinand. 
 
 Dri. So — and now for the good women ! But what 
 to say to 'em, tell he that can — he must be better read 
 in these books than I am ! 
 
 Enter Mrs. Godsgood, Mrs. Gotam, Mrs. 
 Squeeze, and Nancy. 
 
 Dri. Ladies ! your servant ! And had you not 
 commanded the contrary, I had sav'd you this trouble 
 by waiting on you myself ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. No, sir; 'tis our own business, and we 
 thought least notice might be taken of it by discours- 
 ing it here ! 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Yes, indeed, 'twas all our opinions ! 
 Only, I must confess, the widow here would have 
 preferr'd a little state before convenience ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. But since I was overrul'd, pray, sir, 
 where's your master 1 
 
 Dri. I'll let him know you are here, and he'll wait 
 on you presently ! 
 
 3Irs. Got. I think this gentleman would be able to 
 do our business as well ! 
 
 3frs. Squ. Yes, truly ! He looks like a likely man ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. However, if Mr. Jocose were present 
 too, 'twere no whit the worse. 
 
 Dri. Be pleas'd to repose yourselves a while, and it 
 will not be long 'ere my master wait on you ! 
 
 Omnes. Your servant, sir ! [Exit Driver. 
 
 Mi's. Gods. Come, neighbours ! I think it were not 
 
244 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 amiss if we agreed among ourselves what we would 
 have before they come ! 
 
 Mrs. Got Now, truly and indeed, 'twas well mov'd I 
 
 Mrs. Squ. I like it well ; pray begin ! 
 
 3Irs. Got. Trust me, not I ; but I'll do as good, I'll 
 put in now and then. Pray, ^Irs. Godsgood ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. However you mistook me, I meant it so. 
 Pray, madam — no pray, forsooth ! — Avill you 1 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Not I, indeed ! How say you 1 — The 
 widow 1 
 
 Omnes. The widow — ^the widow ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Then, in obedience to your commands, 
 and may this present meeting be happy and prosper- 
 ous to ourselves and the whole commonwealth of 
 women, and that we propose those things that may 
 be for the common good and dignity of the sex. 
 You cannot be ignorant how much your husbands 
 have encroached upon you, or, to speak truth, how 
 much we have all lost by letting the men engross all 
 business to themselves, without so much as asking our 
 advice, as if we, forsooth, were no part of them, and 
 made to no other end but to sit at home and prick 
 our fingers ! 
 
 3frs. Got. Ay, indeed, a public grievance. 
 
 3Trs. Squ. The more's the pity. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Pray, sisters, has not every pitiful cor- 
 poration its counsel, the meanest parish its vestry, 
 and our very fumblers their common hall 1 And shall 
 women only lose their privilege 1 — shall we alone do 
 nothing ? 
 
 3Irs. Got. Had we no more wit than to be rul'd by 
 our husbands, we shouldn't ; but for all that, we now 
 and then do our parts, and sometimes, too, more than 
 comes to our shares. 
 
 Mrs. SqiL Thank themselves that won't be quiet 
 when 'tis well ! 
 
 3frs. Gods. Pray, no interruptions in the middle of 
 a speech ; there will be time enough for all ! Nor 
 would I set up a new thing, — only revive an ancient 
 and laudable, though somewhat antiquated, custom. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 245 
 
 I have heard of an old emperor, somewhere or other, 
 that ordain'd that, as he had his council of men, so 
 his wife should have hers of women, which should be 
 independent, and without appeal to t'other ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Marry, away with him ! — an old man ! — 
 what should we do with him 1 And I have heard of 
 a place, too, where they hung up the men, after they 
 come to threescore, as things past their labour, and 
 consequently useless ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Yet, again 
 
 Mrs. Squ. No more of that, good sister ; for, if I 
 mistake not the stoiy, they were more severe upon 
 us, and burnt us for witches at forty ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Heyday ! Pray, sisters 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Peace — silence ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. With all my heart ! No offence, I hope 1 
 
 Mrs. Squ. None on my part, I assure you ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. More still ! This council, as I told you, 
 whether in jest or earnest it matters not, they call'd 
 the She Senate ; and this is that which our present in- 
 terest should prick us forward to restore ! Nor let it 
 be any rub in the way that women are forbid to speak 
 in public, that being meant of a congregation of men, 
 and I speak only of an assembly of women ; for other- 
 wise, if we were ever to hold our tongues, to what use 
 were they given us 1 Those tongues, I say, that if 
 they might would speak sense as well as their own, and 
 upon a good occasion could be as loud ! Think you, 
 I warrant, they were given us to no other end but to 
 lick our teeth and cheapen eggs 1 I think not ! And 
 why should we not use 'em, then 1 No doubt but we 
 may, and perhaps, too, to as much purpose as the 
 men ; for could we look into their councils, 'tis ten to 
 one but we should find many things ourselves would 
 have been asham'd of ! How common is it with them 
 to be five days in wording the question, and as many 
 more e'er they can put it right, and perhaps at last 
 make nothing of it ; whereas we are plain downright 
 — we think what we please and speak what we think ! 
 How does this consultation thwart that, a third both, 
 
246 THE PKOJECTORS. 
 
 a fourth all, as if they met only to justify the proverb, 
 so many men, so many minds ; whereas we, if the 
 reins were in our hands, if we did not manage them 
 better, I am sure it could not be worse ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Well open'd ! Pray, proceed ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. I think this enough for introduction. 
 The next thing I would have consider'd is, of what 
 persons this council should consist % 
 
 Mrs. Got. Of whom but women *? 
 
 Mrs. Squ. All that will — ^what else 1 
 
 Mrs. Gods. That would be rather a tumult than a 
 council ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. And to select a few and exclude the rest 
 would be — what d'ye call it % — the men have a hard 
 word for 't — oli — oli — oligar — fie upon 't, I can't hit 
 it ! Oil and garlic I think they call 't ; 'tis either 
 that or somewhat near it — a very mark of tyranny ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Pray, no more interruptions ! If you do 
 not like it, refer it to another time. And first, if I 
 might advise, I would have no maids of this council ! 
 
 Nan. No maids ! Why, I pray 1 Were you never 
 one yourself, or was it so long since you have forgot 
 it? 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Pray, give me leave ! I say no maids, 
 because we may happen to speak that among ourselves 
 that may not be fit for them to hear ! 
 
 Nan. Goodly — goodly ! as if we could not tell how 
 the market went, though we neither bought nor sold 
 in't! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Well said, little gentkwoman ! Stand up 
 for your privilege ! 
 
 Mrs. Squ. I warrant they are not so ill bred but 
 they know what's what as well as ourselves ! How 
 say you, Mrs. Nancy ? Do not you know a pudding 
 from a cart wheel 1 
 
 Nan. I think I do ! 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Did not I tell you so 1 
 
 Mrs. Got. But how will you know which are maids 
 and which not 1 Do not all go for maids till they are 
 married ? 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 247 
 
 Mrs. Squ. And are not some afterwards ] What 
 think you of those that have overgrown old fellows to 
 their husbands 1 May not they be call'd maids, though, 
 perhaps, much against their will ? 
 
 Mrs. Gods. However, for honour's sake, we'll think 
 'em otherwise. But my meaning was, that none be 
 receiv'd but such as are, or have been, married ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Well distinguish'd ! And yet, perhaps, 
 it might be no hurt if they sat behind the hangings, 
 though they gave no voice ; 'twould make 'em the 
 abler against they came to 't themselves ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. For that, as you please. But, pray, no 
 more interruptions ! The next, I would have none 
 admitted that have been shod round ; and amongst 
 them I would place such as are past fifty, who, like 
 old garrisons, are fit for nothing but to be slighted, 
 and the rather, too, to make room for others ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. And good reason. Pray, on 1 
 
 3Irs. Gods. Then, I would have none admitted that 
 had not first purg'd herself by her corporeal oath that 
 she had never made her husband a cuckold ; unless 
 she be very ugly, and that in such cases it be taken 
 for granted that she has not ! 
 ' 3frs. Got. Now out upon 't ! 
 
 3Irs. Squ. This widow, I see, would make a very 
 tyrant ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Confess, and be hang'd ! — I am for none 
 oft! 
 
 3frs. Squ. Nor I neither. Here's a fetch with all my 
 heart ! 
 
 3frs. Gods. At least you may qualify it by proviso, 
 that if it be done to oblige a gentleman, she may, 
 notwithstanding, etc. 
 
 Mrs. Got. That alters the case a little. But I am 
 clearly for throwing out both. 
 
 Mrs. Squ. And so am I — at least for lajdng the 
 debate aside till a full house. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. What you please — I do but off'er. Next, 
 that if any discover the secrets of the house abroad, 
 that such person or persons have their tongues com- 
 
248 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 mitted to a three days' silence, without bail or main 
 price ! * 
 
 Mrs. Got. Insufferable ! 
 
 Mrs. Squ. A tyranny never heard of before. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Pray have patience ! Next, that none 
 be permitted to speak irreverently of their husbands, 
 inasmuch as, be the men what they will, the wives' 
 honour depends upon theirs — to traduce them were 
 but, in effect, to disgrace ourselves ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Oh ! worse and worse ! 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Abominable, and not to be endured ! 
 
 [They walk and fume. 
 Driver and Jocose appear above. 
 
 Dri. You see, sir, how hard your widow's beset. I 
 think 'twere not amiss if you reliev'd her ! 
 
 Joe. And so I will. She's better qualifi'd than I 
 expected. Follow me ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Not speak irreverently, as you call it ! Do 
 you think it reasonable that my sham-legg'd Monsieur 
 should say what he please of me, and I nothing 1 Or 
 fit, I woos, that he be ever rambling abroad, when, 
 though I say it myself, I am as able a woman for the 
 matter of the point of that as any woman in the two 
 next parishes ! And I must sit still and blow my 
 nails, forsooth ! 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Or that mine should be perpetually abus- 
 ing and striking me? I am sure he has so pommell'd 
 me about the head that I am hardly able to bear a 
 cup of drink, as they say! For, look ye, d' ye see, 
 when I am troubled, I go to the Salutation with two 
 or three neighbours or so, and call for our gills of sack 
 apiece ! — alas, you know it is not much ! — and then 
 we sit and chat over it; and look ye, d' ye see, I am 
 now and then troubled with a rheum in my side, 
 and go lame a little, and then when I come home my 
 rogue says I am drunk, and stink of aquavitce ; when, 
 alas, 'tis well known 'tis mere grief — mere grief makes 
 me in that condition ! Aa ! you don't know this 
 
 * Delivery into the custody of a friend, upon security given for 
 appearance. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 249 
 
 husband of mine : he were a very devil but that he 
 wears his horns ! And is this to be borne, think you ? 
 
 Joe. Hold a little — not yet ! 
 
 [To Driver offering to enter. 
 
 Mrs. Got. No, by my troth, is it not ! Come, come ! 
 serve him as I did mine ! He struck me t'other day, 
 and I set out my throat as loud as I could that he 
 had murdered me for what I had ; and as the neigh- 
 bours came in, I made 'em believe I was in a swoon, 
 and held him so long in suspense that from that day 
 forward I got the staff into mine own hand ! Ah ! my 
 poor first husband — he was a man of a thousand ! I 
 could have made him believe the cow was made of 
 wood ! But how d' ye think I brought him to 't ? 
 Even by complaining first, and pretending he did this 
 and that in his drink, which he, good man, never 
 thought of; and, if ever he denied it, 'twas but bring- 
 ing my maid to witness, and I was sure to be asked 
 pardon. 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Ay, here were a woman for the chair ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. With all my heart. 
 
 3frs. Squ. Then for the quorum, — if two women and 
 a goose make a market, I see no reason why three 
 may not make a council, at least to determine, tho' 
 not to hear. 
 
 Mrs. Got. I agree with you ; — and truly I think so 
 we should all. But for this widow, — she 's insuffer- 
 able ! Come, neighbour Squeeze, I see we must be 
 well advis'd whom we trust the chair with : she may 
 in time betray our liberties. 
 
 Enter Jocose and Driver. 
 
 Joe. Madam, your servant ! Methought I heard you 
 somewhat hot ; couldn't you agree ? 
 
 Mrs. Got. No indeed, sir, nor is it likely. 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Truly, I think 'twere not amiss if we 
 entreated this gentleman to take up the business. 
 
 Mrs.. Gods. You could not have thought better. 
 Pray, sir, will you give yourself a small trouble to 
 oblige us 1 
 
250 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Joe. Alas, madam, 'tis too large a parish for me ! how- 
 ever, I shall look upon your entreaties as commands. 
 What may it be 1 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Why, thus, an't please you. 
 
 Mrs. Got. No, pray let me 1 
 
 Joe. Hold ! suppose we walked in, we should be less 
 subject to disturbance. Will 't please you, madam 1 
 
 Omnes. With all our hearts. 
 
 [Jocose leads off G-odsgood, they follow, 
 Driver manet. 
 
 Dri. Call you me this matrimony % Help the good 
 man, say I, for I am sure they need it ; and yet certain 
 there must be some little, I know not what in't, that 
 I am ignorant of, or they would not be so hot upon't, 
 that like bold seamen, having 'scaped one wreck, they 
 dare yet venture on another. Whatever it be, I envy 
 it no man ; bless him with it, say I. I had rather 
 believe my share of it than run the experiment j for, 
 as far as I have ever observed, between a quiet and an 
 unquiet woman there is only this difference, that he 
 that has the first rides an ambling horse to the devil, 
 and he that has the second a trotter. 
 
 Enter Sir Gudgeon Credulous and Gotam. 
 
 Sir, your servant ! 
 
 Sir Gud. Honest Mr. Driver. And how 1 what 
 news ? Ha' you been as good as your word 1 
 
 Dri. Yes, sir, here are some ! — and you may take 
 your choice. [Shows his bag. 
 
 Sir Gud. Aa ! Mr. Driver, you were ever my friend. 
 But prithee satisfy me by discoursing the reason of 
 them, as why some are more lucky in their hits than 
 others. 
 
 Dri. You must know, sir, that inventions came by 
 degrees, but have ever had this ill fortune to be fatal 
 to the first inventors, who have only discovered a new 
 shore to shipwreck their persons on it, or bury their 
 fortunes in it. 
 
 Got. How shall we do then 1 
 
 Dri. Well enough ! We have this advantage, that 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 251 
 
 others have gone before us, and broke the ice to our 
 hands. However, we must not be so hasty as to expect 
 all things should be done at once. No ! Nature makes 
 no leaps, and Invention, which is the handmaid of 
 Nature, must but follow her and take pattern from 
 her. 
 
 Sir Gud. Nay, I grant ye, time perfects everything ; 
 nor can it be thought that our invention should be so 
 absolute, as that it were impossible to be improved. 
 
 Bri. You have hit the point, and learnedly. How- 
 ever, for demonstration : — The spade and shovel were 
 primitive inventions, and from thence came the plough ; 
 in like manner from the rake, the harrow ; from the 
 pestle and mortar, all sort of mills, whether horizontal 
 or plegnick, horse, hand, wind, water, or otherwise ; 
 from the wheel-barrow, carts and coaches ; from the 
 scraping of a hen, letters ; from pease-hulls in the 
 kennel, the invention of shipping ; and from a kite's 
 tail, the rudders to 'um. I should have mentioned 
 another thing, which, how simple soever at first, 't has 
 been since improved to a wonder. 
 
 Got. As what, good sir ? 
 
 Dri. Why, thus : You know men originally lapt 
 water like dogs, but finding that a little troublesome, 
 they soop't from their hands; from thence came 
 wooden dishes, thence earthen pitchers, thence black- 
 jacks, thence flagons, thence cans, thence horns, thence 
 pewter cups, thence glasses, and, as an eumechanic from 
 the whole, silver and gold tankards. 
 
 Sir Gild. I'll be sworn thou hast cut out the business 
 notably. 
 
 Got. Marry has he ! — a shrewd fellow. But hark 
 you ! have you remembered me 1 
 
 Bri. Presently ! I was just coming t' ye ; and shall 
 only tell you, by way of prolegomena, that inventions 
 are of two sorts, to wit, either such as are destructive 
 to human society — as the invention of walking in- 
 ^dsible, and making ships and boats sail in the air as 
 well as on the water, which we call Cacamechana — or 
 such as are advantageous and useful ; and of this kind, 
 
252 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 I think I can show you as much choice as any man, 
 whatever he be. 
 
 Sir Gud. I must confess I am for those, — let's see ! 
 
 Got. Ay, ay! —Those, those ! 
 
 Dri. You see, gentlemen, I am not shy to you ; I 
 dare trust you to peruse my papers ! 
 
 [They turn over his papers. 
 
 Sir Gud. Aa ! good Mr. Driver, what are these % 
 
 Dri. Let me see ! — most excellent things ! You 
 know, sir, we Englishmen chiefly buzzle our heads 
 about two things, that is to say, religion and trade ; 
 and truly you have luckily hit upon both, — the one 
 is a project for a divinity mill, that shall go by any 
 wind, and never stand still. 
 
 Sir Gud. But of what use ? 
 
 Dri. Marry, to grind controversy, and that so fine 
 and subtle, it shall hardly be perceptible, and, I'll 
 undertake, make more proselytes than ever did 
 Chaucer's Friar with his shoulder-blade of the lost 
 sheep. 
 
 Sir Gud. Lay that by ! I'll fit you a chapman. 
 T'other ! 
 
 Dri Why, this — 'tis the height of art ! An em- 
 porentick invention, of making cloth without wool. 
 
 Got. How's that 1 Cloth without wool ! Make me 
 but that good, and write your own conditions. 
 
 Sir Gud. With your favour, sir, I was in before you. 
 Pray, go on ! — how is it to be done % 
 
 Dri. Why, thus : — I shall discover all. 
 
 Sir Gud. Not to your friend, good Master Driver % 
 
 Dri. Then thus : you must gather the atoms into 
 a glass well ground, and then thread them upon a 
 fine imperceptible loom ; and, when they are once 
 wove, 'tis easy milling them to what consistence you 
 please. 
 
 Sir Gud. But how shall we do for this loom ? 
 
 Dri. Did you never hear of Vulcan's net 1 — You 
 must take copy by that. 
 
 Sir Gud. Cry y'mercie ! good Mr. Driver, this shall 
 be mine. I have a glass, as one would say, made for 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 253 
 
 the purpose, — a most excellent optic ; it shall make you 
 an atom show as big as a quarter-staff. 
 
 Dri. Alas, sir ! the thread will be too big, and fit for 
 nothing but to thrum coverlets ; whereas my design 
 in't was to alter the affairs of Christendom, by break- 
 ing the Spanish trade of fine wool, and the Dutch new 
 manufactures. 
 
 Sir Gud. I apprehend you ! — the price 1 
 
 Dri Why, troth, sir, it will not go under five hun- 
 dred pound and a quarter share. 
 
 Sir Gud. No more ! I'll give thee a note to my 
 goldsmith, honest Mr. Driver. 
 
 [He goes aside and writes. 
 
 Got. Here — here ! Mr. Driver. What are these 1 
 
 Dri. A rare invention for the sealing of butter, 
 without the charge of butter prints ; — the same for 
 gingerbread. 
 
 Got. Go on. This ! 
 
 Dri. This — a whirligig for draining the sea for 
 treasure-trove. But to this there belongs another — 
 oh ! I have it, — a device to stop up the rivers, that 
 they shall n't run in till the work be over. But this 
 will be a work of time and charge. 
 
 Got. However, the profit will answer it. 
 
 Dri. Here are others would do as well, or better ; — 
 you grasp at too great things ; — an invention for the 
 making books sell at treble the rate they would have 
 done otherwise. 
 
 Got. As how, good sir 1 My brother shall be in for 
 this. 
 
 Dri. By a fine new title and picture before it ; or if 
 that fail, getting 'um suppressed, and somewhat else 
 which I shall only tell the bookseller himself A new 
 engine for the better sowing of wheat and setting of 
 leeks. A proposition for the farming the excise upon 
 Jews' trumps and town tops. 
 
 Sir Gud. Not forgetting nine-pins and shovel-board 
 tables, I beseech ye. 
 
 Got. As how, I pray ? — can that amount to anything 1 
 
 Dri. Almost incredible ! there's a great mystery in 't ; 
 
254 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 for look you, sir : do but consider how many more 
 boys than men there are, and then make the conjec- 
 ture. Where's this 1 — Oh ! here ! — Be happy. Here's 
 an invention will do thy work : — thou may'st even 
 shut up shop, or do what thou wilt. 
 
 Got I can turn it over to another, which will be all 
 one, — what is't ? 
 
 Dri Why, 'tis a project to incorporate the gold- 
 finders, and makes 'um turn saltpetre-men ; for, be- 
 sides that the materials will be exceeding cheap, the 
 learned, upon experiment, have found it makes the 
 best gunpowder by reason of its nitrous quality, and 
 the refuse, most incomparable soap ; an invention 
 must necessarily destroy the trade of potashes, and 
 consequently bring all the soapboilers in London 
 under your girdle. 
 
 Got. I'm satisfied ! Not a word to Sir Gudgeon ; — 
 let's shake him ofi", and you and I'll drive the bargain 
 by ourselves. Pray, sir, use me as kindly as you can, 
 and I promise to consider you better as the profits 
 shall arise. 
 
 Dri. Well, sir, I shall not press too hard upon a 
 young beginner. I hope you'll be as good as your word. 
 
 Got. If I am not ■ 
 
 [Sir Gudgeon gives Driver a note. 
 
 Sir Gud. Here, sir ! If to-morrow be anything fair, 
 I'll begin the experiment, and perhaps make some small 
 essay this night upon the moon. 
 
 Dri. I know not what excellent quality your glass! 
 may have above others ; but, if I might advise you, I 
 would defer it to the dog-days. 
 
 Sir Gild. The goodness of my glass will supply a 
 small defect. I'll tell you what, — but you'll happily 
 believe it,- — I have discovered with it a flea in the 
 Bear's tail, and a louse in Caput Algol — Anglice, 
 Medusa's head. 'Tis but trying. — Come, I am out of 
 patience till I set it on foot. My service to your 
 master ; I cannot stay to talk with him now. Fare- 
 well ! 
 
 Dri Your servant, sir ! [Exeunt severally. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 255 
 
 Act IV. 
 Enter Squeeze and Driver. 
 
 Dri Good Mr. Squeeze, no more ! — I am so full of 
 business I can hardly tell which to set about first. 
 
 Squ. But I am afraid these will scarce turn to 
 account. 
 
 Dri. How ! — not turn to account ! Is the sole 
 engrossing of all love letters, whether in verSe or 
 prose, within the realm of England, dominion of 
 Wales, and town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, so cheap 
 in our eyes "l Besides, that unimaginable project of 
 procuring a fifth term and the multiplication of 
 oflSces, according to the augmentation of suits, so 
 slight with you ? the boundless avarice of insatiate 
 men ! 
 
 Squ. Nay, good Mr. Driver ! 
 
 Dri. What ! Nothing content you, unless you fine 
 for Sheriff the first year 1 Gi' me 't again. 
 
 Squ. Pray, sir, are you angry because my wit is 
 not so ripe as yours ? Great things are not so easily 
 apprehended. Suppose I offer'd that of a fifth term 
 to the Inns of Court and Doctors Commons, do you 
 think they would advance anything considerable 
 upon 't 1 
 
 Dri. Think ! About it, and be thankful. We shall 
 have you now once in a twelvemonth not know your 
 old friends ! But if you do, it shall be a warning to 
 me how I ever — — 
 
 Squ. What d'ye take me for ? Pray, no more. 
 Fare you well ! \_Exit Squeeze. 
 
 Dri. Your servant ! — So, so ; the wheels go merrily 
 round. And now for my main game, Mr. Suckdry. 
 If I can but squeeze that sponge into my young 
 master's pocket, the work's done. Let me see ! — 
 [Noise tvithin.] — He must not take me unprovided. 
 Hark ! 'tis he. [He turns over his hundle. 
 
256 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Enter Suckdry. 
 
 A project for the reprinting of Tom Thumb with mar- 
 ginal notes and cuts ; and that every man within this 
 kingdom buy it of the patentee at the rate of twelve 
 pence, or come up to town to show cause why he will 
 not. 
 
 Suck. Good ! I won't disturb him yet. 
 
 Dri. Another, for raising sixpence upon every 
 thousand of bricks ; and twopence a joint for every 
 joint of meat that shall be dressed on Fridays and 
 Saturdays. 
 
 Such Excellent ! This fellow will be rich ; he minds 
 his business. 
 
 Dri. That every usurer pay twelve pence per pound 
 out of all interest money towards charitable uses, and 
 that the patentee have the disposing of 't. 
 
 Suck. Oh ! he'll spoil all again. \He starts. 
 
 Dri. Who's there 1 Mr. Suckdry ! Your servant. 
 You see I am at work for you ; but this is not the 
 business I have design'd for you. Hmh ! 'tis come at 
 last. Here 'tis ! A thing shall bring you in a vast 
 deal of money without any charge besides the primary 
 charge. 
 
 Suck. As what, good Mr. Driver ? What 1 
 
 Dri. Why, 'tis a wooden horse, so contriv'd with 
 screws and devices that he shall out-travel a drome- 
 dary, carry the burden of fifteen camels, run you a 
 thousand mile without drawing bit, and, which is 
 more than all this, not cost you twopence a year the 
 keeping. 
 
 Suck. Ha ! ha ! he ! I'faith, i'faith ! prithee on ! 
 Is there no difiiculty in the work 1 
 
 Dri. The greatest will be to set him agoing. But 
 I think I have sufficiently provided for that. I'll tell 
 you how I have ordered it. Turn one pin, he shall 
 trot ; another, amble ; a third, gallop ; a fourth, fly : 
 and all this perform'd by German clock-work ! Don 
 Quixote's Rosinante was an ass, Eeynaldo's Bayart a 
 mere slug, and Clavellino the swift a very cow to him. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 257 
 
 I might mention Alexander's Bucephalus, the Cid's 
 Bajeca, the Moor's Zebra, Rogero's Frontino, Astolpho's 
 Hippogryphon, Orlando's Briliadoro, the Muse's Pegase, 
 the Sun's horses, and Zancho's Dapple ; but they are 
 not to be nam'd the same day together. One thing 
 more I could tell you ; but 
 
 Suck. Good Mr. Driver, out with it ! No buts among 
 friends, I pray. 
 
 Dri. 'Tis but shoeing him with cork, and he shall 
 tread as firm and strike as true a stroke on the water 
 as he does on land ; and, which is more, care for 
 neither tide nor weather, and run in the wind's eye ! 
 A de^dce must of necessity break the packet-boats, and 
 consequently engross the whole dispatch for Ireland, 
 France, and Holland. 
 
 Suck. And do you think you could prevail with your 
 master to part with this horse ? 
 
 Dri. Yes, certainly, for his son's good. Though, as 
 I told you before, he has more already than he knows 
 well how to spend. 
 
 Suck. No more of that. Prithee, let me speak with 
 him. He shall have bags, daughter, devil, and all ! 
 
 Dri. I'll wait on you again immediately. 
 
 [Exit Driver. 
 
 Suck. Not cost a man twopence a year the keeping ! 
 So — so. 'Tis an excellent shaped horse, and must be 
 good. Why may not I improve this project now, 
 and make him carry as much on his back as the 
 Trojan horse did in his belly ; at least, as many 
 citizens and their wives at once as the great bed at 
 AVare will hold at twice % 'Twas well thought on. 
 
 Enter Driver and Ferdinand. 
 
 Dri. This is my young master, sir ! will you please 
 to be known to him "? 
 
 Suck. A towardly young man. Save you, sir ! 
 
 Fer. Your friend and Ferdinand. Pray, no com- 
 pliments. 
 
 Suck. An humble young man, and sparing of his 
 very words. I'll try his temper. With your favour, 
 R 
 
258 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 sir, I have long desir'd your acquaintance, and, having 
 a further inclination to continue it, I must crave leave 
 to ask you a few questions. 
 
 Fer. The fewer the better. As near as I could, I 
 would not waste either time or breath. 
 
 Such Excellent ! Pray, sir, what do you take to be 
 the greatest virtue in the world 1 
 
 Fer. Thrift! 
 
 Suck. Short, but pithy. Admirable ! But might 
 not I be so much beholden to you as to give me your 
 reason for 't 1 
 
 Fer. It would better become me to learn from you. 
 However, since you desire it, I shall tell you what first 
 mov'd me to it. 
 
 Suck. I am beholden to you. Pray, begin ! 
 
 Fer. Then truly, sir, I find it founded upon nature. 
 The sun, the moon, the stars are sparing of their light j 
 and do not always shine. The earth is barren in some 
 places that it may be fruitful in others. And the sea 
 has its ebbs and neaps, as well as Sowings and spring 
 tides. And, in a word, from the beginning 'twas ever 
 so. 
 
 Suck. Excellent again ! Let me not interrupt you. 
 
 Fer. Nor is this all ; it has been the general prac- 
 tice of all times. The golden age, to save charges, 
 were clad in skins, drank water, eat acorns, and, to 
 show their innocence, wip'd their noses on their 
 sleeves. The philosophers, they were sparing; the 
 Brahmins went naked ; Diogenes liv'd in a tub ; 
 Pythagoras on carrots and cabbage ; Plato wonder'd 
 a man could eat two meals a -day; and Epicurus, 
 whatever we think of him, was as great a Prince with 
 a toast in the dripping-pan as a fat citizen with his 
 shoulder of mutton and capon. The Stoics were ab- 
 stemious to a miracle ; and, if ever they exceeded, 'twas 
 never at their own charge. Nor have they walked 
 alone, the learned tread hard after 'am ; for either, like 
 the ancient Druids, they commit nothing to writing, or 
 if they do, 'tis so close and enigmatical that nobody 
 can pick anything out of 't. But I burden you ? 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 259 
 
 Suck By no means. Good sir, on ! 
 
 Fe?\ To come nearer home, we all cry up charity, 
 and, no doubt, do well in it ; but who makes any use 
 of it 1 at least, any more than needs must 1 We bless, 
 'tis true, but without a cross ; and, for good works, we 
 do no more than will just serve, if yet that, for fear 
 of supererogating. Pray tell me, was it for nothing, 
 think you, that we found a late style of the keepers 
 of the Liberty 1 or that the keeper of a park had his 
 name to no purpose 1 Surely no ! The age is arriv'd 
 to that height of thrift, that they find more's got by 
 selling their bucks than by eating them themselves, or 
 giving them their friends. 
 
 Suck. Eight ! I have not found more thrift, — no, 
 not in Spain or Italy. 
 
 Fe7\ And now you mention Spain, give me leave 
 to put off my hat to that venerable name ! The 
 Spaniard ! — the frugal Spaniard ! — that shall make 
 you five meals upon one hen, feast his family with 
 three pilchards, and carry a pound of mutton in 
 triumph on a skiver ! But I forget myself : I am sure 
 now I weary you ; yet, if you have ever so much time 
 to spare, read but Sir Jeffery Dropnose his discourse 
 upon save-alls, or his new method of skinning of flints, 
 and perhaps you may not think your time ill spent. 
 
 Suck Ha — ha ! What was that 1 Books — books 1 
 
 Fer. Yes, sir, a good thrifty author, and well re- 
 ceived. 
 
 Suck Uh ! Have a care ! No books, I beseech 
 you. They cost money. Read men — read men ! 
 Hang these liberal sciences ! this is no time for 'em. 
 Study thrift — study thrift ! 'Tis strange, you, that 
 are so great master in the theory, should be so much 
 out in the practick ! Let me read to you. 
 
 Fer. With all my heart, and I readily embrace it. 
 
 Suck 'Twas well said. And first, for your person. 
 Have nothing about you that may be spar'd — nay, 
 though it be not worth a farthing ; for if you would 
 but seriously consider how much one poor farthing, 
 use upon use, in 200 years amounts to, you would not 
 
260 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 lay it out upon waste. Next, eat little, drink less, 
 and sleep much, to save fire and candle-light ; and, if 
 ever you are sick, be your own doctor, and never 
 exceed above a halfpenny worth of senna. Then for 
 your clothes : Make no new, but beg an old suit as 
 for a poor friend of yours ; but fit it up for yourself, 
 but short and close, lest your wife, taking example by 
 you, run out as much in train. 
 
 Fer. But suppose, sir, I kept her always in mourn- 
 ing, would it not do well, think ye, to save linen and 
 washing 1 
 
 Suck Very good, and well observ'd. And, hark 
 you ! never let her be too forward in making baby- 
 clouts ; perhaps the child may be still-born, and then 
 there's so much sav'd. And since you have nam'd 
 mourning, let me advise you, never give any upon 
 your will ; they'll then mourn indeed. And for your 
 wife, make her no more new clothes than needs must. 
 As long as the cat's skin is burnt, you shall have her 
 keep home ; let it be once sleek'd, and she's presently 
 a caterwauling. Then for your housekeeping : Be 
 ever exact in keeping fasting-days and holiday eves ; 
 for, besides that you comply with the discipline of 
 the church, you save your own purse. And for your 
 provision : Be sure to buy the worst of everything, 
 as rotten eggs, mouldy wheat, stinking beef, and the 
 like ; for, besides that it is much cheaper, your family 
 will eat the less, and for that reason also, let your meat 
 be either blood-raw or over-roasted, and as n«ar as you 
 can dine late, that they may have no stomach to supper. 
 
 Fe?\ Then, sir, if you'll give me leave 
 
 Suck. Good leave have you. Proceed ! 
 
 Fer. If your friend come to dine with you, ask him, 
 by way of prevention, when he'll be so kind as to 
 come and dine with you. But if he chance to sur- 
 prise you, treat him not, but tell him you'll make no 
 stranger of him. Either he has an appetite, or he has 
 not. If he has, hunger's the best sauce ; if he has 
 not, 'tis all lost. If he be your friend, he'll be con- 
 tented with what you have ; if not, 'tis too much. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 261 
 
 Suck. Or rather take pattern from the prudent 
 Dutch : Tell him your house is visited, and so carry 
 him to the next inn, and there eat upon his purse. 
 Two men's meals well sav'd ! But one thing more 
 which I had quite forgot. If ever you should chance 
 to keep servants, change 'em often ; they are generally 
 diligent in their new clothes. And for their service, 
 let every one perform two offices at least ; following 
 herein the example of the same thrifty Dutch, with 
 whom, generally, one and the same person supplies 
 the several offices of chaplain and barber. 
 
 Fer. How unfortunate am I, that have been so long 
 a stranger to such excellent morals ! Pray, sir, oblige 
 me once more. 
 
 Suck. Ha ! ha ! he ! Shall I turn prodigal in my 
 old age % 
 
 Fer. Of counsel you may, sir ; it costs you nothing. 
 
 Suck. Well- well-well, — since I must: — make the 
 ant your pattern for laying up, and the limbeck your 
 example for giving it out again, — the limbeck ! — 
 peace be with him that first invented it — the limbeck, 
 I say, that, be it never so full, gives back again, but 
 drop by drop ; — which that you may the better do, 
 let me advise you, first, to avoid law-suits, it being 
 like a sheep's flying for shelter to a bramble, where 
 commonly he leaves the better part of his fleece behind 
 him ; — next, give no money to servants, it being in 
 effect a paying for your entertainment, and as little, 
 upon hopes of return. Ingratitude reigns ! Then, 
 never fish with a golden hook for fear you lose it, or that 
 the profit do not countervail the hazard and charge. 
 But this I would have you : when you have any busi- 
 ness doing, let your hand be either fumbling about 
 your Little pocket, or playing with some gold. Ah ! 
 it makes a man so nimble when he believes it wiU be 
 his presently. But, when 'tis done, give him ne'er a 
 groat ; only shake him by the hand, invite him to 
 your house, and tell him your wife and he are town- 
 born children. Let him say what he will when you're 
 gone j you've sav'd your money, and the loser may be 
 
262 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 allow'd the liberty of speaking. Let the world call it 
 sordid, or what they please. He that can do this may 
 be presum'd to be content with it, and consequently 
 happy ; for happiness consists in nothing more than 
 in being content. Populus me sihilcct, at milii plaudo. 
 A good saying, and the only piece of all the poets I 
 ever understood. And, hark ye ! if thou marriest my 
 daughter, it shall be the posey of her wedding-ring. 
 
 Fer. How, sir ! Marry your daughter % Why, I 
 scarce ever saw her ! 
 
 Suck. Xo matter, no matter ; she shall be rul'd by 
 me. 
 
 Fer. Alas, sir ! charge of children will come on ; 
 and, I have heard say, a -s^dfe's as chargeable as an 
 old tenement; 'tmll cost you half your rent to keep it 
 wind-tight and water-tight. 
 
 Sack. Well, well, well ! thou shalt be at the charge 
 of repairs during my life, and, after my death, shalt 
 have all — all I have — all, all, all ! 
 
 Dri. Troth, sir, my young master is bound to you. 
 Come, sir, speak comfortably to the old gentleman. 
 
 Fer. I can only thank jovl, sir, and tell you that I 
 am wholly at your dispose. 
 
 Dri. Why, that's well said. 
 
 Enter Jocose aiid Mrs. Godsgood. 
 
 Suck. Mr. Jocose I — in pudding time ! Do you re- 
 member what you said to me touching your son and 
 my daughter ? Truly — truly, I like the young man 
 so well, that if I had twenty daughters he should have 
 'em all, — all, body and bones, — and all I have after 
 my death, — ay, truly, ever}" groat, unless it be four 
 old Harry groats, which I have thus dispos'd in my 
 will, viz. : one gToat to the poor of St. Giles's and 
 St. Andrew's, Holborn, to be equally di\dded amongst 
 'um ; a second to the hospitals of St. Bartholomew's, 
 Christ Church, and St. Thomas, to be equally divided 
 as before, provided always that, within the first' six 
 months after my decease, they set up my name amongst 
 tlieir benefactors : a third to charitable uses in general. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 263 
 
 to be disposed as to my executors shall seem meet ; a 
 fourth towards my funeral expenses, — I think there 
 Avill be no great need of a sermon. A man must do 
 some good, you know. 
 
 Joe. And may he never thrive that shall go about 
 to subvert so pious an intention ! And now for my 
 son : you have my consent. 
 
 Suck. I thank you. But, d'ye hear, Mr. Driver ? — 
 don't you forget the horse now. No more, but mum. 
 
 Dri. I apprehend you, sir. Your nod's enough ! 
 
 Suck. Come, son, — for that must be thy name now, 
 — come, go home with me ! And, good Mr. Driver, 
 let it be your care to get us a gentle reader, he will 
 not expect so much as another. But for the clerk, 
 you may let him alone ; one of us can say Amen as 
 well as he. There's so much sav'd ! 
 
 Dri. It shall be done, sir ! 
 
 Suck. Farewell, good sir ! We'll make no wedding 
 of it. Tailor's lists and blue points shall be both 
 garters and favours. 
 
 Fer. So much the better. Your servant ! 
 
 [Exeunt Suckdry, Ferdinand, and Driver. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Send them good luck ! 
 » Joe. And none for me, good widow 1 
 
 Mrs. Gods. 0, by any means. Your project de- 
 serves it. 
 
 Joe. Am I unkind to you, then, that I'd have you 
 take your money again 1 No ; you are rather be- 
 holden to me, that have not made those advantages 
 of you that, had I lov'd your money better than your 
 person, I might have done. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. In that respect I must confess I am. 
 But pray tell me, how came this humour about % 
 
 Joe. You may best answer that yourself You 
 know I lov'd you, and could not be ignorant but that 
 I look'd upon Sir Gudgeon Credulous as a block in 
 my way, which, once remov'd, I might have the better 
 hopes of kissing the mistress myself Pray, what did 
 you most fancy in him — ^his person, his parts, or his 
 estate ] 
 
264 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Mrs, Gods. I was never so greedy to expect all three. 
 I could for a need have excus'd the two former, to 
 have been well secur'd of the last. 
 
 Joe. A right widow ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. You men, alas for you ! you never mind 
 those little things of estate. You are above ordi- 
 nances ; you are altogether for virtue ! 
 
 Joe. Not so far neither, good widow. A little of both 
 does no hurt ; they do as well together as ill asunder. 
 
 J^7ifer Sir Gudgeon. 
 
 But see ! your haberdasher of small projects. 
 
 Sir Gild. Yours, sir ! Madam, who thought to have 
 found your ladyship here ? 
 
 3Irs. Gods. Can you blame me, that am so far dipt 
 in your projects, to inquire at least how things went 1 
 
 Sir Gud. You might have trusted that to me. I 
 dare warrant you a good return, and in few days. A 
 little time must needs make us either Princes or 
 beggars — I hope the first. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. But suppose the latter 1 
 
 Sir Gud. 'Tis not to be suppos'd. Let me tell the 
 widow of mine, Be happy. 
 
 3Irs. Gods. 'Tis the thing we all wish. But hoAv 
 came you to be so confident of a sudden ? 
 
 Sir Gud. Because 'tis impossible we should be other- 
 ■vvise. The work goes pleasantly on. And, hark ye, 
 widow ! I am resolv'd to present thee a piece of scarlet, 
 for thy own wearing, shall not have a lock of wool 
 in 't ; and yet good substantial cloth. 
 
 3Irs. Gods. But who makes it. Sir Gudgeon 1 
 
 Sir Gud. AVhat matters that, so you have iti I am 
 promis'd an artist shall do wonders. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. A small philosopher, I hope 1 
 
 Sir Gud. 'Tis not material whether he be or no. I 
 love to trust every man in his way. What care I 
 whether my tailor be a good musician, or my coach- 
 man be able to con a ship 1 It is enough to me that 
 he perform what I intend him for. For my own part 
 I am so well assur'd of the thing, that I could wish I 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 265 
 
 were no knight, but had staid to have been made a 
 lord for altogether. And so let me say to thee once 
 again, widow of mine. Be happy ! 
 
 Joe. For that of happy, be so as long as you can. 
 But pray take me along with ye : no longer widow, 
 nor yours, I beseech you. 
 
 Sir Gud. How's this ? Who dare say the contrary 1 
 He were better 
 
 Joe. Have broken your worship's pate. With this 
 lady's leave, that dare I ; or if you will not believe it — 
 pray, madam, lend me your busk. 
 
 Sir Gud. Mr. Jocose ! 'tis impossible ! I never 
 thought you would have serv'd me thus. 
 
 Joe. And why not 1 Would you engross all to your- 
 self? He projects, and she projects too. G-ood, Sir 
 Gudgeon, there's conscience in everything ! 
 
 Sir Gud. 'Tis well you are my friend ; but don't 
 ye presume too far. 
 
 Joe. Further than this lady I shall not ; and yet so 
 far, with her good favour, I ever shall. 
 
 Sir Gud. But you may come short home. You 
 know the necessity of attending more grand affairs 
 
 lies upon me ; but-^ 
 
 ' Joe. Does the fool prate ? [Sir Gudgeon runs out. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Nay, Mr. Jocose ! 
 
 Joe. I obey ! And now, madam, I leave it to your 
 own judgement how much I was out in my character ; 
 and if there remains anything to your further satis- 
 faction, pray let me know it. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. I'll consider of it within. [Exeunt. 
 
 Act v. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Gotaih and Mrs. Squeeze severally. 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Mrs. Gotam, well met ! — whither so fast ? 
 
 Mrs. Got. Marry, to find out this rogue that has 
 
 abus'd my husband ! I tell thee what. Squeeze, he 
 
266 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 and liis stafFmen liave made sucli a stink in our 
 house, that all the neighbours are up and cry, A 
 wedding, a wedding 1 I have been this half hour 
 a shaking the bride laces off my petticoat. 
 
 Mrs, Squ. Why, what's the matter 1 
 
 Mrs. Got Hang him for a fool ! He cries 'tis a new 
 way of making gunpowder ; but, when he's in a con- 
 dition of recei-^-ijig it, I'll ring him such a peal ! I'll 
 gunpowder him I 
 
 Mrs. Squ. And mine's as bad on the t'other side. 
 He's so full of business, he's even mad ! He talks of 
 nothing but sonnets, madrigalds, acrostics, love letters, 
 wedding posies, and I know not what ! Well, if thy 
 husband's project be the beginning of love, I am con- 
 fident mine's the end of 't. 
 
 Mrs. Got. that these men must do all things by 
 themselves, and never advise with their wives till it 
 be too late ! But I'll make my gentleman know a 
 piece of my mind before I have done with him. 
 
 Enter GoTAiSr, sputtering. 
 
 Mrs. Squ. Peace, peace ! here he comes ! 
 
 Got. Uh — hum — puth ! 'Ta'd need be profitable, I 
 am sure 'tis not very toothsome. 
 
 Mrs. Got. And whither, gentleman, whither so 
 fast 1 Your wife's nothing with you ! But I've 
 a crow to pluck w' ye. Where's my coach and 
 the eight horses you talk'd of, and the new dining- 
 room to our country house 1 D'ye think to rob me 
 thus? 
 
 Got. Nay, good A^-ife — dear honey — they're all a 
 coming 1 Do'st not see what pains I have been 
 taking, and all to make thee a lady ! Prithee, 'tis 
 all for thee ; good faith it is ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Marry, fough ! all what 1 
 
 Got. AATiatever I bring to perfection. Thou must 
 have patience ; 'tis but an embryo yet. 
 
 Mrs. Got. Pray leave me ofi" your brewing, unless it 
 were to better purpose. I was finely helpt up when 
 I married you, and refus'd more likely men every 
 
 I 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 267 
 
 way, and such as would have maintain'd me like a 
 woman. But the devil ow'd me a good turn ! 
 
 Got. Nay, dear wife, thou art always in this key. 
 AYhat encouragement can it be to a man when his 
 wife believes nothing but what she should not % 
 
 Mrs. Got. Say ! speak ! what should I believe, or 
 what should I not believe ? you'll teach me, will you 1 
 
 Got. No, good wife ; but we may hear one another 
 though. 
 
 Mrs. Got. I've heard too much. Thou lets every one 
 lead thee by the nose, and make thee an ass and a 
 beast. And I could find it in my heart to make thee 
 too — (look better to your business). Come, come ! 
 where be the keys of the chest 1 give them me ! 
 
 Got. What to do ^ 
 
 Mrs. Got. What to do with my own ? Why, was it 
 not all mine 1 and dost thou grudge me my own I 
 Go, go ! try thy experiments with what thou broughtst 
 thyself, unless they were better or more likely. 
 
 Enter Mr. Driver. 
 
 Got. Mr. Driver ! — Never in better season. 
 
 Dri. Why, how now, Mrs. Gotam ] — sitting in judge- 
 ment upon your husband '? 
 
 Mrs. Got. If I do, 'tis my own husband, and one 
 that, if you please, sir, has been fool'd enough by you. 
 
 Got. Nay, wife, you won't spoil all? The gentle- 
 man is a civil gentleman, and an excellent person in 
 his way. 
 
 Mrs. Got. I'll excellent ye both ! What fine project 
 is this you have put my husband upon ? Had your 
 master no one to fool but his own flesh and blood % 
 
 Dri. What does your wife mean, Mr. Gotam % 
 
 Got. Alas, sir, if you liv'd at our house you'd never 
 ask that question. 'Tis her ordinary exercise to keep 
 herself in breath. 
 
 Mrs. Got. I'll breath you ! Must you abuse me too % 
 Eemember this, gentleman 1 
 
 Dri. But may not I know whence all this heat % 
 
 Mrs. Got. You know but too well; and as you have 
 
268 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 brought him on, pray bring him off, or I'll make the 
 house too hot for you and your master too. I'll 
 powder you ! 
 
 Dri And why ? — how goes it forward ? 
 
 Got. In plain troth, sir, between ourselves, I half 
 doubt the woman's mad. She has thrown all the 
 tubs about house, and rais'd the neighbours about our 
 ears ! 
 
 Dri. And you think you've done a wise action now, 
 to discover in one minute what some men might have 
 studied their whole lives for, but never found % 
 
 Mrs. Got. Indeed, sir ! And do you believe there 
 was anything in 't ? 
 
 Dri. It matters not whether there were or no ; 
 your own folly will best teach you. — [He tears a paper.] 
 — There, there's the counterpart of your articles, and 
 to let you see how much I scorn to take advantage of 
 you, I discharge you of all monies due by virtue of 
 'um. 
 
 Got. You've done well, wife! you've made a fair 
 hand on 't ! 
 
 Mrs. Got. Nay, pray, sir ! 
 
 Enter Squeeze, singing. 
 Dri. Not a word more ! I ha' done with 't. 
 Squ. And wilt thou gang with me, my Jo 1 
 And wilt thou gang with me 1 
 Now for thy daddy's benison, 
 I prithee now gang with me. 
 Dri. Ay, here's your diligent man ; he has traverst 
 Scotland already. Now, Mr. Squeeze, how goes all 
 affairs 1 
 
 Squ. Why, as a man may say, on wheels. I had 
 no sooner set up my bills, and hung out a large label, 
 with this inscription in capital letters — 
 
 Young men advance, and maidens eke draw near, 
 Here dwells Love's epistoliographer ! 
 
 I say, I had no sooner hung it out, than my house was 
 too little to hold the company ! 0' my conscience, I 
 think Wapping, Eatcliff, and East Smith-eld were 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 269 
 
 never so drain'd since the last great show. I'll under- 
 take, 'twould have made two gingerbread women for 
 ever. 
 
 Dri. See here, Mr. Gotam, see what industry can 
 do ! And yet I valu'd your device at least fifty per 
 cent, more than this. 
 
 Got. I'm an unlucky fellow ! This a man gets by 
 making his wife acquainted with his business. 
 
 Mrs. Got. Nay, prithee sweetheart, let's home again ! 
 I'll try to recover all. 
 
 Got. Impossible ! or, if it weren't, the neighbours 
 have smok'd it. 0, Mr. Squeeze ! what luck you 
 have ! 
 
 Squ. My faith, I do pretty well, and at small ex- 
 pense. I'll be sworn the Packet of Letters, FamiUar 
 Epistles, Academy of Compliments, and two or three of 
 the new poets, is the greatest charge I have been at; 
 and I am confident I shall, in a short time, be able to 
 bring it into a lesser compass, by printing some blank 
 cojjies of the several kinds that shall indifi'erently 
 serve to every occasion. 
 
 Dri. A pretty device and well found out. 
 
 Squ. But the main thing I built on troubles me. 
 You remember the fifth term ? 
 
 Dri. And what of that 1 
 
 Squ. I have ofi'er'd it to all the Inns of Court, 
 Chancery, and Commons, and none bids me anything 
 for 't : for they that have anything to do cry four is 
 enough, and they that have not, though they shrug 
 their shoulders and look smilingly on 't, yet, whether 
 it be that t'others keep 'um so low, or that they fear 
 they'd in a short time engross this too, though they 
 seem to wish well to 't, yet they bid me not a farthing. 
 
 Dri No matter ; you'll find enough in this. You 
 must not be too covetous. 
 
 Mrs. Got. But, good Mr. Driver, ^vill you assist us 
 at least in the soap business 1 
 
 Dri. They go together : make one, and t'other 
 follows. But I'll meddle no more in't; I am too 
 full elseway. 
 
270 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Got Pray consider of 't, and we'll take a turn or 
 two in the garden the while ; perhaps I may light 
 upon some new proposals. Mr. Squeeze, shall I beg 
 your company ? 
 
 Squ. With all my heart ! [Exeunt all hut Driver. 
 
 Dri. Well, I am gone so far, but how to get clear 
 again, there's the question. I brought it on, and I 
 hope my master has by this time thought of some 
 device or other to bring it off. 
 
 Enter Sir Gudgeon. 
 
 Sir Gudgeon Credulous ! your servant. 
 
 Sir Gud. Oh, Mr. Driver ! how have you serv'd me ? 
 I have been trying your experiment at least forty ways, 
 and I'm sure my glass is as good as any in Christen- 
 dom ; but the devil of a thread can I make hold, 'twas 
 as rotten as dirt. An old black, died out of a rotten 
 scarlet, and that too burnt in the dye, is iron to it. 
 
 Dri. Sure, sir, your mistaken. 
 
 Sir Gud. No, no, no ! 'tis but too true. 
 
 Dri. Or did not take the right way. 
 
 Sir Gud. Oh no ! I was exact to the thousandth part 
 of a hair. 
 
 Dri. Or perhaps overdid your work, and so calcin'd 
 'um. O' my conscience, if the truth was known, this 
 was it. And yet 'tis strange, so grave a philosopher, 
 that has written so profoundly of cobwebs and perry, 
 should be so much out in his first rudiments ! 
 
 Sir Gud. I know not, but 'tis as I tell you. 
 
 Dri. You see what 'tis when men cannot be con- 
 tented to do, but they must overdo. 'Tis well I did 
 not trust you with the business of malleable glass, sup- 
 pressing mountebanks, and enlarging the city charter. 
 If I had, 't 'ad been all one. 
 
 Sir Gud. How's that, good Mr. Driver 1 Pray let's 
 hear 'um ; they may make amends for t'other. 
 
 Dri. No ! no more. I'll never trust a man again 
 that can't go by himself. One of your years and 
 intellectuals, and not read without a fescue ! '''" 
 
 * See Davenant's Works, vol. ii. p. 104. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 271 
 
 Sir Gud. Come, come, let's try to recover 't again. 
 
 Dri. Never, never ! I know, though I han't seen 
 your work, you have spoil' d the design ; for things of 
 this nature are so nice and kickish, the least error 
 renders them irretrievable. A man had better fix 
 mercury in a blowing mill than offer to think on 't. 
 
 Sir Gud. What remedy then 1 
 
 Enter Jocose leading Mrs. Godsgood. 
 Sir Gudgeon walks. 
 
 Dri. Patience, Sir Gudgeon, patience ! 
 
 Sir Gud. Hugh ! patience ! And had I more, here's 
 that would exercise it all. 
 
 Joe. And now no longer widow, be as merry as a 
 good husband can make thee. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. I have but your own word for 't, and 
 yet hope I shall have no cause to repent the action. 
 
 Joe. 'Twas well said ! and I'll promise thee, as near 
 as I can, I'll give thee none. But see. Sir Gudgeon 
 Credulous ! He's come to give thee joy. 
 
 Sir Gud. Joy ! choke 'um ! [Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Save you, Sir Gudgeon ! you've been a 
 great stranger. I see I might have even done what I 
 Would for all you y' are a kind suitor ! 
 
 Sir Gud. She jeers me too ! Is it not enough to 
 have injur'd me, but you must tell me so 1 
 
 Mrs. Gods. I injur'd you ! forbid it. Pray how goes 
 on our common business % 
 
 Sir Gud. All evaporated ! Gone — gone — quite lost ! 
 
 Mrs. Gods. Why, as I understand you, there was to 
 be neither fire nor smoke in 't. 
 
 Sir Gud. I know not. The devil was in 't ! and my 
 new drape — quite defunct. 
 
 Mrs. Gods. And do you think it was kindly done to 
 engage me in such a business ? 
 
 Sir Gud. 'Twas no more than what I did myself. 
 But I see, now it is too late, that I am merely tricked 
 out of my money, my widow, and all. But somebody 
 shall dearly rue it. 
 
 Joe. That's not I, Sir Gudgeon, is it ? 
 
272 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 Sir Ghid. No matter whether it be or no. There are 
 other bodies iii the world besides yourself. 
 
 Joe. Yes, that there are. There are bodies politic, as 
 London and Westminster ; and bodies simple, as Sir 
 Gudgeon and his participants. 
 
 Sir Griid, D'ye hear this, Mr. Driver 1 I shall 
 order you, i'faith, if there be any law between the 
 mount in Cornwall and Berwick stairs.* 
 
 Dri. However, sir, I am to thank you that you 
 have been pleas'd to lend me some money to defend 
 the suit. 
 
 Sir Gud. Well, look to 't ! I say no more. 
 
 [He offers to go out, Jocose stops him. 
 
 Joe. No departing in wrath, good Sir Gudgeon ! 
 One does not know what you may do to yourself; 
 you had better stay a while and take a little advice 
 with you. Go, go down into the country, and awe 
 your poor neighbours with my lord's nod, or his 
 whisper in your ear at parting. Study longitude and 
 the philosopher's stone, the north-west passage and 
 the square of a circle. So brave a Sir Poll trouble 
 himself with trifles 1 By no means — no, no ! Embark 
 for the Indies in a cock-boat, or to France on a mill- 
 stone ; plant a colony in Terra Incognita, or settle an 
 intelligence with the Emperor of Utopia. These were 
 fit for Sir Gudgeon ! 
 
 lice tihl sunt artes / 
 
 Sir Gud. Well, sir, well ! 'tis your time now. 
 
 Joe. Or, if you love the smoke o' the town better, 
 enter yourself a virtuoso, and sit in judgement on every 
 man but yourself Never open your mouth with less 
 than a cabal, and yet speak little, for fear you be 
 understood. However, let your sententious tooth- 
 pick speak for you, that you could say more if you 
 durst trust the company, or were not under an oath 
 
 * I.e. between Land's-end and the most northern point in 
 England — her Majesty's "good town of Berwick-upon-Tweed."' 
 "Berwick stairs" may be meant for "Berwick walls," or, per- 
 haps, for the barbican of the old ruined castle of Berwick, which, 
 resembling stairs, is still standing (1873), and runs down to the 
 margin of the Tweed. 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 273 
 
 of secrecy. Sir Gudgeon beat his brains about ordi- 
 nary matters 1 Fie, fie ! 
 
 Enter Suckdry, hugging himself. 
 
 Sir Gud. You do well, sir. 
 
 Suck. Not cost a man twopence a-year the keeping ? 
 — rare ! — Mr. Driver — 
 
 Joe. See ! here's another of your brethren. Prithee, 
 Driver, entertain him while I look to the knight. 
 
 Sir Gud. So, keep me a prisoner too"? you fear 
 nothing. 
 
 Suck. "Well met, well met. Sir Gudgeon ! I sent 
 you home the boy and the girl. — Ha? \To Jocose. 
 
 Joe. They are within. 
 
 Suck. But hark, Mr. Driver ! A word. Ha' ye 
 fitted out the horse yet ? 
 
 Dri. And over-fitted too. What's worse than ill 
 luck ? Certain we are bewitch'd ! 
 
 Suck. As how — as how — as how, Mr. Driver ? No 
 hurt, I hope, good Mr, Driver 1 
 
 Dri. Yes, faith, sir ! but it could not be helpt. 
 
 Suek. What 1 what ? what 1 what % what, I pray ? 
 
 Dri. Why faith, as he was coming full speed down 
 Highgate Hill, he tript upon a stone, fell, and broke 
 his leg short ofi" ! 
 
 Suck. Uh ! undone for ever ! No good to be done 
 with him now ? Speak ! ha ? 
 
 Dri. Why, truly, he may be made serve again — to 
 the Court of Guard, or so-^-but, I fear me, not without 
 some charge. 
 
 Suck. Uh ! charge ! What a fool was I to be so 
 forward in this match, till I had seen what would 
 come of t'other ! 
 
 Dri. How, sir ! is my young master so cheap with 
 you already % 
 
 Enter Ferdinand leading Nancy, loth in rich 
 apparel. 
 
 Suck. Why, that's some comfort yet. He'll save it up 
 again by Httle. Oh, Driver ! what's this I see ? Surely 
 s 
 
274 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 this house is the land of visions. My daughter in 
 beaten satin ! Hold me ! I faint — I faint ! Uh ! 
 
 Fer. Come, my dear ! And now no more of your 
 No pray I thank ye's. 'Twas well carried. 
 
 Nan. AATiile I was at my father's, blame me not if 
 I obeyed him; and, now his election has made me 
 yours, I hope I shall not so mistake the person as to 
 pay you less. 
 
 Fer. That's a pretty rogue ! 
 
 Nan. my father ! Good sir, help ! 
 
 Fer. Certain he never gat her ; nay, were she not 
 my wife, I'd swear it ! What's the matter % Stand off 
 and give him air ! 
 
 Suck. Uh — hu ! my son and all ! — ^and all to be 
 daub'd ! Is this the thrifty gentleman ? Uh ! how 
 apt is even the best ground to run into weeds ! Uh 
 — uh! 
 
 Fer. Come, pray, sir, do not disquiet yourself, or 
 judge me by my outside j 'tis the way to be mistaken 
 a second time. 
 
 Suck. Is this founded upon nature ? — this the habit 
 of the ancient philosophers 1 It had not been amiss, 
 if, while they pretended to instruct others, they had 
 yet taught themselves. 
 
 Fer. Let me supply that defect, if yet you doubt it. 
 
 Such This the keeping your wife in mourning, to 
 save linen and washing % This the burnt cat's skin we 
 talk'd of 1 — defend her from what follows ! 
 
 Fer. Pray, sir, hear me ! and though I did a while 
 l)ut a force upon my nature to humour you, be not 
 now disturb'd that I am yet at last come to myself 
 again. 
 
 Such. Uh — uh ! he believes these things are death 
 to me, and will murder me, though it be but to scatter 
 that little which with so much pains I have rak'd 
 together ! 
 
 Fer. Do not misconceive me; 'tis my desire you may 
 live and enjoy what you have. The earth, though she 
 conveys the water through her veins, is allow'd yet to 
 suck in as much as may refresh herself 
 
THE PROJECTORS. 275 
 
 Suck. I was right : lie is resolv'd to break my heart. 
 
 Fer. Pray, sir, hear me ! and set not up your rest on 
 that which, simply considered, is not that blessing the 
 world takes it for. No ; wealth not enjoy'd is but a 
 dead heap of muck, and the same unactive lump in 
 the chest it was in the mine. Were you master of all 
 the most mighty could wish; did you not only possess 
 riches, but tread on them ; should fortune cover you 
 with gold, and were your wealth as boundless as your 
 eye ; yet, had you not a heart to use % you would but 
 from thence learn to covet more, and those false 
 desires having no Kmit would become as infinite as 
 error. 
 
 Suck Uh — ^uh ! no mercy ! 
 
 Fer. Let me prevail, good sir. You cannot but hear 
 a man that pleads against his own interest. You 
 have enough ; why should ye deny yourself at least 
 a moderate use of it ? Why should ye be fearful to 
 approach it, and yet be jealous of others — ^like the 
 sensitive plant, shrink at the touch, and cramp into 
 a convulsion? Why should ye use your wealth, as 
 anglers their little fish, only to bait for more ? Or 
 why degrade yourself from that sphere wherein nature 
 set ye by a voluntary sale of yourself to slavery ? In 
 a word, why should you possess that with pain which 
 others behold with envy 1 — such as, in itself, rather 
 threatens than profits, and, thus obtain'd, becomes not 
 the end, but change of misery. Come, pray, sir ? 
 
 Suck How shall I believe him 1 He said as much 
 on t'other side erewhile. Give me leave ! 
 
 [SucKDRY offers to go out, Jocose stops him. 
 
 Joe. I'll be his security. Pray, stay a little ! all will 
 be well. 
 
 Fnter Squeeze, Gotam, and their Wives. 
 
 Oh, gentlemen, you're welcome ! Now, Sir Gudgeon, 
 what think you of reconciling all interests 1 
 
 Sir Gud. You're in your own house, you may do 
 what you list. 
 
 Joe. No more of that, I pray. I must have all 
 
276 THE PROJECTORS. 
 
 friends, though to my own loss. And therefore, to 
 be short, let me tell you, Sir Gudgeon, that, finding 
 you so incHn'd to projects, I thought you might 
 be instrumental to mine, and I have compassed 
 'um. This — [he points to the Widow and Nancy] — 
 for myself, and that for my son : for anything beyond 
 that, I am wholly a stranger to 't. For I ever look'd 
 upon projectors like the dogs in the fable, that burst 
 themselves by endeavouring to drink up the pond, 
 that they might the easier come at the carcase that 
 floated on the middle of 't. 
 
 Mrs. Got. And do you think to carry 't off thus 1 
 Dost look Hke a sheep-biter, and seest thyself laugh'd 
 at ? [To her Husband. 
 
 Joe. Pray, gentlewoman, — ^with your good patience 
 a little, — the use may chance to be more comfortable 
 than the doctrine. For once I'll be the author of an 
 ill court precedent; you shaU all have your money 
 again. 
 
 Sir Chid. Say you so, Mr. Jocose 1 Now, send us 
 more such courtiers ! Come, gentlemen, we will be 
 friends before his mind alter ; 'tis ten to one but he 
 had been too hard for us. 
 
 Got. Indeed might he have been. 
 
 Suck And so he has been for me. 
 
 Squ. I shall lose nothing by 't. 
 
 Joe. What say ye, gentlemen 1 d'ye like my motion ? 
 
 Sir Gud. Ay, ay ! Mr. Suckdry shall be ruled by me. 
 
 Suck. That's more than you know, though. 
 
 Omnes. Come ! pray, sir ! 
 
 Sir Gud. 'T'as taught us wit. 
 
 Joe. And I hope you'll consider your tutor Driver. 
 
 Sir Gud. Well, well, leave him to me ! 
 
 Joe. And so you're pleas'd 1 — ^and you, and you, and 
 you '? And I hope [^f^y answer several. 
 
 The same of you,* since now at last you find. 
 
 Who ploughs the clouds shall only reap the wind. 
 
 [Exeunt Omnes. 
 
 * The pit. 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 Plays are but morals, and the ancients, 
 That first wrapt truth in tales, had their intents. 
 Full well they knew nothing discover'd vice 
 Like its own picture : so we hope of this. 
 How ill Suckdry appears ! How oddly those 
 That grasp at shadows, and the substance lose I 
 Take you the moral right, and say : The stage 
 Then does its work when it reforms the age. 
 
i 
 
BELPHEGOR- 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MAEEIAGE OF THE DEVIL. 
 
Belphegor: or. The Marriage of tlie Devil; A Tragi-Comedy. 
 Lately acted at the Queen's Theatre in Dorset-Garden. By Mr. 
 Wilson. — " Prodesse potest aut delectare." — Licensed, October 
 13, 1690. London, Printed by J. L.for Luke Meredith, at the 
 Angel, in Amen-Corner, 1691. 
 
It is probable tbat the fiction of Belphegor may be traced to 
 some monastic legend or ancient Fabliaux, from wliicli tbe two 
 tales on the subject, ascribed to Machiavel and Straparola, bave 
 been constructed. Indeed tbis is asserted in a note to tbe tale 
 in the French translation of the latter, to -which we shaU after- 
 wards have occasion to refer. The intention of both writers was 
 to show that the sharp sting of a woman's tongue is quite suf- 
 ficient to subdue the devil, whenever it is her pleasure to give 
 his Satanic Majesty the full benefit of it. 
 
 In the olden time, the saints usually came off victorious in 
 their battles with Belzebub. St. Dunstan once settled matters 
 very speedily with a devil, who had slipped into Ms cell while 
 he was piously engaged in completing a chalice, and, peeping 
 incautiously over Dunstan's shoulder, he exposed his nose to 
 the eyes of the saint, who, seeing his advantage, turned round, 
 suddenly seized it with the red-hot tongs he was using for the 
 sacred utensil, and held it so tight, that the fiend roared so 
 loud and so long that the whole adjacent country was in a 
 state of alarm for hours. Hone, in his useful and entertain- 
 ing Every-Day Booh, has given a woodcut of this interesting 
 occurrence, copied from an original engraving, under which were 
 these verses — 
 
 "St. Dunstan, as the story goes. 
 Once pull'd the devil by the nose 
 With red-hot tongs, wMch made him roar. 
 That he was heard three miles and more." 
 
 After reposing on his laurels for many centuries, St. Dun- 
 stan was raised from his grave by the unknown author of Grim, 
 the Collier of Croydon, a drama of the latter days of Elizabeth, 
 or commencement of the reign of James i.* 
 
 St. Francis was a still more potent adversary of Satan. His 
 wonderful career will be found in the Alcoran des Cord4liers,'\ 
 a work "tant en Latin, qu'en Francois," taken from the great 
 book Des Gonformitez, jadis compost par frere Barthelemi 
 de Pise, Cordelier en son Vivant, and illustrated by Picart. 
 Two of the engravings represent the conquest obtained by the 
 
 * His presence was deemed necessary to watch the proceedings of the 
 court of Satan, which had deputed Belphegor to the earth to ascertain 
 whether the scandals circulated in Pandemonium relative to the fair sex 
 were well founded. 
 
 t Amsterdam, 1734. Two volumes 12mo. There was a copy of this very 
 rare and curious work in the BibUotfieca S*anUiana, 1813, No. 658. 
 
282 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 saint over the devil and his imps. The first is thus described : 
 "S. Francois et son compagnon trouverent une bourse, que le 
 Diable avoit mis la pour le tenter ; mais sitot que le compagnon 
 eut touche a la bourse le Diable en sortir et tout disparut," a 
 striking instance of the power of the saint, when his mere per- 
 sonal presence protected his companion from the "glamour " of 
 the evil one. 
 
 The second engraving represents the saint, who, after having, 
 in the month of January, vanquished the devil in a thicket 
 (buisson), gathered twelve red and the same number of white 
 roses, and, proceeding to carry them to the church, found the 
 ground covered with silk tapestry. He had an angel on each 
 side. In the back part of the print, Francis is placed in the 
 middle of the buisson, whilst the devil in despair reluctantly 
 takes his departure ; two heavenly beings in the sky view 
 everything with infinite satisfaction. 
 
 St. Francis was too exalted in mind to indulge, even with 
 Belzebub, in vituperative discussion. Shunning female society, 
 and resisting the temptations of beauty, he was ignorant of the 
 wondrous power of a female tongue, and would never have 
 credited the flight of Belphegor by its means. 
 
 The temptations of St. Anthony are well known. For twenty 
 long years he was persecuted daily. Armed with his crucifix, 
 he vanquished the arch-fiend, whose effigies, copied from the 
 original painting by Salvator Kosa,* of itself was sufiicient to 
 strike terror into the bosom of the boldest combatant. The 
 saint, of course, was triumphant, and so completely established 
 his superiority, that the fiends, upon hearing the voice of 
 Anthony, fled as fast as Belphegor did when he thought he 
 was about to be afilicted by the -voice and presence of his wife 
 Imperia, as Wilson calls her. 
 
 La Fontaine has introduced Belphegor into his collection of 
 tales and novels. According to his biographer, Monsieur Auger, 
 "Sa femme, nommee Marie Hericart, fiUe d'un lieutenant au 
 Balliage royal de la Ferte-Milon, ne manquoit ni de beaute ni 
 d'esprit ; mais elle etoit d'une humeur exigeante et fierce, et Ton 
 croit generalement qu'eUe est original de Madame Honesta dans 
 le conte de Belphegor. Ce qu'il y a de certain, c'est que La Fon- 
 taine se conduisit avec sa femme a-peu-pres comme Belphegor 
 avec la sienne, c'est-k-dire, s'eloigna d'elle le plus souvent, et 
 pour le plus de temps qu'il lui fut possible. " + It is very pro- 
 bable that this conjecture is correct. 
 
 The Contes et Nouvelles were printed some years before the 
 appearance of Wilson's drama on the same subject in 1690. La 
 Fontaine died upon the 13th March 1695, in Paris, at the age 
 of sixty-four, Wilson having survived him. Fontaine ascribed 
 
 * Hone's Every-Day Boole, p. 114. 
 
 t Vie de La Fontaine. CEuvres completes de La Fontaine^ a Paris, 1814, 
 Svo. Tom. I. f. xi. Printed by Crapelet. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 283 
 
 the tale to Machiavel, whereas "Wilson, who prefixes an abridg- 
 ment of the fiction, is uncertain whether the Florentine or 
 Straparola was the writer. 
 
 In the translation by *' Pierre de Larivey, Champenois," into 
 French, of the Tredici Piacevoli Notti del S. Gio. Francisco 
 Straparola da Caravaggio, The Marriage of the Devil is the 
 fourth tale of the second night, and in several respects resembles 
 the story ascribed to Machiavel. 
 
 Larivey, in the following note upon the tale of Straparola, 
 says : " C'est, comme tout le monde S9ait, le Belphegor de Ma- 
 chiavel. Le Doni, pourtant, — fuillet 89 de sa seconda Libraria 
 de I'edition du Marcolini en 12mo, a Venise 1551,— dit que cette 
 nouvelle, apres avoir eu cours sous le nom de Machiavel, a ete 
 depuis imprimee parmi celle du Brevio a Florence, ensuite dequoi 
 il la raporte tout au long, telle que I'auteur, dit-il, I'avoit ori- 
 ginairement ecrite. Ce qui a toute la mine d'etre une suposition 
 du Doni. Un chanoine de Saint Martin de Tours m'a dit que 
 dans un vieux manuscrit Latin de la bibliotheque de cette eglise, 
 I'istoire du mariage du Diable se trouvoit redigee en cinq ou six 
 lignes."* 
 
 At what time the version of Belphegor ascribed to Machiavel 
 was first printed has not been ascertained, but the tale by 
 Straparola will be found in the edition of his novels printed at 
 Venice 1578, page 57. Of this work there was a still earlier 
 edition — San Luca, 1557 — in the sale catalogue of the valuable 
 library of Colonel Stanley, + which was sold by auction in 1813, 
 realising the sum of £8215, lis. 6d. 
 
 "With the exception of the History of Florence, Machiavel's 
 works were translated into English from the Italian, — London, 
 1663, 12mo, — by Edward Dacres, and dedicated by him to James, 
 Duke of Lenox, Earl of March, etc., Lord Great Chamberlain 
 and Admiral of Scotland. In this translation the story of Bel- 
 phegor is not found, although it contains all the other works 
 then known to be his. In the folio edition, said to be the third, 
 printed London, 1720, but which was "licensed February 2, 
 1674," Belphegor is the last article but one, and is followed by 
 what is caUed "Nicholas Machiavel's letter in vindication of 
 himself and writings. " This is believed to be a forgery. It was 
 translated by the celebrated Marquis of "Wharton, the author, as 
 is generally believed, of Lillihurlero. Bishop "Warburton says, 
 that having had access to the Wharton papers, he found the 
 first proof of the letter corrected by the future Marquis. This 
 was the edition of 1680. 
 
 The resemblance of Machiavel's Belphegor to Grim, the 
 Gobbler of Croydon, is so very marked, that some notice of 
 the drama may not be unacceptable. The first scene is in the 
 "Devil's Dormitory," where St. Dunstan enters, properly armed 
 
 * Tom. I. f. 9. Amsterdam, 1725. 
 t Sold for £4. 
 
284 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 with his beads, book, and crozier, and informs his auditors, 
 that after the lapse of many hundred years, he had been brought 
 back by Envy to 
 
 "Show myself again upon the earth ; " 
 
 he then gives an account of himself, his high position, his 
 services under seven great kings, whose reigns he epitomizes, 
 when "on a sudden," the Holy Man, in the middle of his 
 autobiography, is overcome with sleep, and "layeth him down." 
 Whereupon "lightning and thunder " commence. The curtain 
 is drawn "on a sudden ;" and Pluto, Minos, ^acus, and llha- 
 damanthus are discovered, " set in counsel" to judge the case of 
 Malbecco's ghost, which stands before them guarded by furies. 
 The unhappy spirit had committed suicide by throwing himself 
 headlong from a rock, driven by his wife to the rash act. He 
 furnishes the judges with a catalogue of his sufferings, assuring 
 them at same time that they were just 
 
 " What the world is plagued with every day." * 
 
 Pluto, in a state of astonishment, exclaims : 
 
 " Can it be possible, you lords of hell, 
 Malbecco's tale of women can be true ? 
 Is marriage now become so great a curse, 
 That whilome was the comfort of the world ? " 
 
 Minos and ^acus both express opinions confirmatory of Mal- 
 becco's statement, when Rhadamanthus counsels that 
 
 "Your Grace should send some one into the world. 
 That might make proof, if it be true or no." 
 
 To this proposition Pluto at once agrees, and it is resolved that 
 Belphegor should be sent to visit the earth in human form, in 
 order to test the truth of Malbecco's accusation. Disguised as 
 Castiliano, an opulent merchant, he visits the earth, and from 
 his personal experiences reports that there had been no ex- 
 aggeration in the ghost's justification ; he was but too happy to 
 escape from earth and resume his comfortable position as one of 
 the cabinet council of Pluto. Malbecco having thus established 
 the truth of his charge, is sent back to plague the earth as 
 the demon Jealousy. Pluto having dismissed his visitor to the 
 realms above, thus concludes the play : 
 
 "And now, for joy Belphegor is return'd, 
 The furies shall their tortures cast away. 
 And all hell o'er, we'll make it holy-day." 
 
 The decision meets with general approbation, and the play 
 concludes, as it began, with thunder and lightning. 
 
 The story of Malbecco will be found in the Fairy Que&a,^ 
 
 * Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. x. Lond. 1827, p. 191. 
 
 f Spencer's Works by Todd. London, 1805, 8vo, vol. v. page 5. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 285 
 
 but greatly altered by the author of the drama. The name, 
 says the learned editor, "is derived from male, and hacco, a 
 cuckold or wittol ; hecco signifies likewise a buck-goat." 
 
 The scene of the drama having been laid in England, before 
 the Conquest, the author may perhaps have founded it on some 
 legend or tradition of that country, as otherwise it is difficult to 
 understand why St. Dunstan was introduced, or had anything 
 to do with the experiment of Pluto and his council to ascertain, 
 through the instrumentality of Belphegor, if ladies on earth, 
 were as bad as they were understood to be in Pandemonium. 
 The Continent would, for such an investigation, have been 
 more suitable than the island of Great Britain. It induces a 
 suspicion that the author may have been indebted for this part 
 of his plot to other sources than those afforded by Machiavel 
 and Straparola. St. Dunstan's assertion that he had been dead 
 some hundred years was an unnecessary fiction, as he was a 
 prominent character during the Saxon rule, and died in the 
 year 988, not very long before the battle of Hastings. * 
 
 Geneste says that Belphegor was brought out at Dorset 
 Garden, and was licensed October 13, 1690. He remarks that 
 the plot is professedly taken from a novel by Machiavel ; but, 
 as before observed, Wilson himself tells his readers that he is 
 uncertain whether the story was by Machiavel or Straparola. 
 Wilson, he continues, "has added an underplot which is rather 
 dull ; the comic scenes are good. The plot being so much out 
 of the common road, some explanation of it should have been 
 made iu the prologue ; it was perhaps for want of this that the 
 play was unsuccessful." It appears from the prologue that 
 Belphegor was the next new play after the Prophetess. 
 
 The Prophetess can hardly be called a new play, as it was 
 only an alteration of Fletcher by Betterton, after the manner of 
 an opera. There was one singularity about it — the prologue was 
 after the first day suppressed, probably in consequence of two 
 ofiensive lines by Dryden alluding to the machinery used, and 
 the quantity of singing — 
 
 " Never content with what you had before, 
 But true to change, and Englishmen aU o'er." 
 
 No authority has been given as to the want of success of 
 Belphegor, and the conjecture that it was occasioned by the 
 want of an introductory explanation can hardly be accepted 
 as a sufficient reason, as Fontaine's tale, which had been 
 recently published, and with which the reading public must 
 have been familiar, superseded any requirement of the kind. 
 
 The tragi-comedy of Wilson has great merit, and is worthy of 
 
 a high place amongst the dramas of the times in which it was 
 
 written. It is original and full of interest, and the characters 
 
 are well drawn, especially the "Demon Merchant" and his 
 
 * 10th October 1066. 
 
286 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 grasping wife, the fear of whose tongue had the immediate effect 
 of compelling his flight from the body of the Princess he had 
 possessed, and forced his return to the fiery regions from which 
 he had emanated. In the hands of a skHful dramatic writer, 
 we are inclined to think that "Wilson's Belphegor, with con- 
 siderable purification of the dialogue, and a judicious altera- 
 tion of some of the scenes, might, in the present time, be 
 successfully put on the stage, and received with that applause 
 which Geneste says -vvras denied to it on its original performance 
 in 1690. 
 
 Straporola's tale, as translated from the original Italian by 
 Pierre de Larivey into French, will be found in the Appendix, 
 as well as that by Machiavel, from the English edition of his 
 works in folio, London, 1720. 
 
THE AUTHOR TO THE READER. 
 
 Matchiavel — whether the original were his own or 
 Straporola's, for both lived near the same time, and 
 both played with the same story — gave me the Argu- 
 ment of the ensuing play, the substance of which is 
 briefly thus : — 
 
 The Argument. 
 
 It having been observed in hell that the souls of 
 such as came thither generally complained that their 
 wives sent them, it was at last resolved that some one 
 of themselves, as by lot it fell, should, for the better 
 discovery of the truth thereof, repair to the earth, 
 take upon him some human figure, and, for his better 
 encouragement, carry with him a round sum of money 
 in his pocket ; subjected, nevertheless, to all the con- 
 ditions of humanity, and, in the first place, to marry 
 a "wife, and live with her ten years, if possible, and 
 after that to return, and make them a true account 
 upon his own experience. 
 
 This lot fell to Belphegor, their old general, who, 
 assuming a brisk young figure, settles in Florence, 
 under the name of Roderigo, and quality of a mer- 
 chant newly come from the Indies, and marries a 
 lady of greater blood than fortune, whom he so loves 
 in earnest, that she finds it, and seeks all occasions of 
 squandering his estate, which yet he as readily com- 
 plies with, because it pleases his wife. However, the 
 trade of a merchant goes forward, and his adven- 
 tures at sea fall nothing short of her extravagance at 
 home. 
 
 This, and other accidents, make him incur debts ; 
 and, as other men in like cases, he takes up money 
 to support his credit, till at last, his ships at sea being 
 
288 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 all lost, what -with his creditors pressing him on the 
 one hand, and his wife's uneasiness on the other, he 
 fairly breaks. 
 
 And now, being subjected to all the conditions of 
 humanity like those of other men, he flies, and takes 
 sanctuary with one Mattheo, a neighbouring vineyard- 
 keeper, tells him his condition, and that if he'll shelter 
 him from the bailiffs that are in close pursuit of him 
 he'll make him a man for ever. In short, Mattheo 
 does it ; and, expecting the performance of his pro- 
 mise, Roderigo tells him that he is not what he 
 appears to be, — a man, — but a very devil, and gives 
 him some pregnant instances of it. However, to show 
 him what a gentleman of a devil he had met in him, 
 he further tells him that as soon as he parted from 
 him he would instantly possess such a great lady, 
 and that nothing should remove him till he came, and 
 therefore bade him be assured, and make his terms, 
 and so leaves him. 
 
 Nor was he worse than his word, but immediately 
 possessed the said lady, and suffered himself to be 
 dislodged from her by Mattheo ; as also of a second, 
 — with this caution, nevertheless, that if he put him 
 to it a third time, he should find him his mortal 
 enemy. 
 
 On this, Belphegor makes a trip into France, and 
 possesses that King's daughter, but not sooner than 
 the report of the two former ladies had reached that 
 Court. Whereupon the King sends several messages, 
 with large promises of reward, to Mattheo, to come 
 and dispossess his daughter, which he as often shifts ; 
 till at last, the King, having gotten him into his hands, 
 tells him that unless he dispossess her he will certainly 
 hang him. To be short, Mattheo puts on a bold face, 
 and accosts Belphegor; but, finding all to no purpose, 
 throws himself upon the King's mercy in favourably 
 accepting his endeavours, and demands a large stage, 
 with all sorts of music and pomp imaginable, and 
 that the lady be brought upon it ; to be sure, withal, 
 that when he threw up his cap that they all strike up 
 
BELPHEGOR. 289 
 
 together with a general shout. And this, said he, with 
 some other ingredients he had, would, he doubted not, 
 but deliver the lady. 
 
 In fine, all things being accordingly prepared and 
 ready, the lady is brought upon the stage, and from 
 one thing to another, they at last quarrel, and Mattheo 
 throws up his cap, which is seconded with a full shout ; 
 at which the possessed lady starting, and demanding 
 the meaning of all that noise, Mattheo tells the devil 
 in her his wife had found him out, and was just coming 
 up-stairs, on which the lady gives a spring at liim, and 
 drops, and Belphegor leaves her. 
 
 Thus far Matchiavel, whom I have chiefly followed ; 
 sa^dng that, where he runs his fable from one country 
 to another, I found myself necessitated, for preserving 
 the unity of time and place as much as it would bear, 
 to fix the scene in some one place, and accordingly 
 changed it from Florence, etc., to Genoa; and this 
 the rather, partly in that the women in Genoa have 
 a greater liberty than in other parts of Italy, and 
 l^artly that the dukedom of Genoa, being elective 
 from two years to two years, I might make way for 
 a cross walk of virtue, and thereby divert the tedious- 
 ness of a single walk — a path, I must confess, not so 
 generally trodden, yet even in that the less subject to 
 sloughs or dust. 
 
 To this purpose, I fancy Imperia, the wife of Bel- 
 phegor, had a sister Portia, of as high virtue as herself 
 was void of it, married to Montalto, a noble Genoese, 
 who had sunk his fortune in serving the Republic, 
 which yet, unknown to him, had been generously 
 restored by another nobleman, his friend ; and thence 
 endeavour some short characters of friendship and 
 gratitude, ^ — of a woman that sweetens her husband 
 on all occasions of discontent ; one whom no accident 
 of fortune can move, nor injury, how designed soever, 
 provoke to an indecency : and of a man in him that 
 weathers his troubles with an evenness of mind ; one 
 whom his country's ingratitude cannot tempt to a 
 revenge, and so little affecting his own grandeur, that 
 T 
 
290 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 when the Senate had at last elected him duke, he 
 modestly refused it. 
 
 And having wrought all together the best I could, I 
 absolve the whole. Of which yet, because I may not 
 be so competent a judge myself, I here give it as I 
 wrote it, and leave it to my unbiassed reader to de- 
 termine whether it might not have expected as much 
 justice from the house as it found from the actors. 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 On the occasion that the Play fell to he acted next 
 after the " Prophetess." * 
 
 Bold was the man that first put out to sea ; 
 
 Nor less advent'rous he that writes a play ; 
 
 Both have their hits : Some scud before the wind, 
 
 Others lie by, and others lag behind. 
 
 And what's the fate of plays ? — the bare success 
 
 Of any one makes the next comer less. 
 
 The market's cloy'd ; some like not this, some that, 
 
 And, as in surfeits, would they know not what ! 
 
 So when the Prophetess has fed your eye, 
 
 From pit and box to upper gallery, 
 
 "V\Tiat may our Devil of this night expect % 
 
 Our Author once was half afraid, neglect ; 
 
 Till he bethought him the best remedy 
 
 For a pall'd stomach was variety ! 
 
 What made the poets gods so oft below ? — 
 
 Or what Apollo so unbend his bow ? — 
 
 Or what makes you leave a fair wife at home 
 
 For a grass-girl, or some odd homely Joan ] 
 
 What but diversion 1 And so I'm bid say. 
 
 He's in good hopes you'll not forejudge his play. 
 
 But stay ! Let's see whom 'tis he must accost ! 
 'Tis not the wits he fears ; they're ever just. 
 And for those that can only carp, nor care. 
 While they keep pushing, how themselves lie bare ; 
 Those that speak well of nothing but their own. 
 And damn or save merely for faction ; 
 
 * The Prophetess, a Tragical History, by Beaumont and Fletcher, 
 revived and printed (1690) by Mr. Dryden under the title of TJie 
 PropJietess ; or the History of Dioclesian, with alterations and 
 additions after the manner of an opera. Eepresented at the 
 Queen's Theatre. 
 
292 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Those that bolt what they please, no matter how, 
 And carry 't off not by their brains but brow ! 
 If any such are here, 'twere well they knew 
 Eome's greatest wits were the best natur'd too. 
 But if this will not do, he justly thence 
 Brings his appeal to you — the men of sense ! 
 And if he must be pelted, begs this boon — 
 Let him that has least wit throw the first stone. 
 
THE PERSONS. 
 
 MoNTALTO, . A nolle Genoese,, loho had impaired his 
 fortune in serving the Republic. 
 
 Grimaldi, . One other Nobleman, his frieml, who, un- 
 known to him, relieves his estate. 
 
 RoDERiGO, . A Devil, disguised under that name and 
 person — his proper name Belphegor. 
 Given out for a Spanish merchant come 
 from the Indies. 
 
 FiESCHi, . . Nepheio to Giimaldi ; Gallant to Imperia, 
 
 Marone,. . An upstart Officer of St. George's Banlc; 
 speaks evil of mankind, admires Rode- 
 rigo for his wealth, and vilifies Montcdto. 
 
 Mattheo, . A Vineyard-keeper. 
 
 Pansa, . . Serva7it to Fieschi. 
 
 Don Hercio, A Bravo. 
 
 Crispo, . ) Two Puggs, Servants to Roderigo. Crispo, 
 
 Mingo, . / his valet ; Mingo, his page. 
 
 PiCARO, . . The common Executioner. 
 
 Portia, . . Wife to Montalto. 
 
 Imperia, . . Her Sister, Wife to Roderigo. 
 
 Julia, . . Niece to the Duke of Genoa ; a Demoniac, 
 
 possessed hj Belphegor. 
 BiANCA, . . Woman to Portia. 
 QuARTiLLA, . Matrona to Imperia. 
 Scintilla, . Woman to Imperia. 
 
 Servants. Officers. Watchmen. Jews. Women. 
 Belzebub and Puggs. Boys. Rabble. 
 
 The Scene : — 
 GENOA. 
 
BELPHEGOR; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE MAEEIAGE OF THE DEVIL. 
 
 Act I. — Scene i. 
 
 A stately room in Eod:prigo's house. 
 
 Enter Eoderigo, followed hy Crispo and Mingo. 
 
 Eod. We spirits, uncompounded essences, 
 Not manacled or immur'd with walls of flesh, 
 We can dilate, condense, or limb ourselves. 
 As like us best — assume what colour, shape, 
 Or size we please. And I have taken this : 
 My servants, that ; . my name below, Belphegor ; 
 Here, Eoderigo. My quality, a merchant 
 Come from the Indies. 0, most happy lot ! 
 WHio would believe that void and formless mass, 
 That fluid infinite, had e'er produc'd 
 Such an harmonious order 1 It strikes wonder 
 And ecstasy ! [He turns to his servants. 
 
 And what think ye of this world 1 Is not this better 
 than toasting the soles of your feet 1 
 
 Cris. The air, I must confess, is somewhat better ; 
 but for the people, not a doit to choose. 
 
 Min. I fancy them the worst of the two, and more 
 fond of the place than ourselves. 
 
 Eod. Can ye blame them 1 They know what they 
 are in this world, they know not what they may be in 
 the next. 
 
296 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Oris. Yet live here as if they expected no other ! 
 And so exquisitely practis'd in cheating one another, 
 that the best of us is a mere novice to them. 
 
 Min. Not a skip-kennel but gives you three tricks 
 for one. 
 
 Oris. And for their masters — could you believe it, 
 sir? — I met with a signior t'other night, most devoutly, 
 with his beads in one hand and the other in my 
 pocket ! 
 
 Bod. Why didst not beat him ? 
 
 Oris. I did but challenge him for 't ; and the rogue 
 had the impudence to kick me for taxing a person of 
 his honour ! 
 
 Min. I believe both our assumed bodies were 
 damn'd cowards while they lived here. For my part, 
 I had rather take ten kicks than so much as look 
 back to see who gave me one of them. 
 
 Bod. But sure, the women treat ye better 1 
 
 Oris. As judge yourself. It is not long since I had 
 a concern with a signiora, and, just as I had stript 
 and was going to bed to her, slip went the trap-door, 
 and down dropt Crispo into the common shore ! 
 
 3Iin. And mine has given me such a remembrance 
 of her love, that, as young soever as my figure speaks 
 me, I can hardly speak knitting-needles without en- 
 dangering the bridge of my nose. And when I tax'd 
 her for it, had the impudence to ask me how she 
 could give it when she still kept it herself ? 
 
 [EoDERiGO smiles. 
 
 Bod. But how d' ye find mankind in general 1 
 
 Oris. Still slandering us : — As drunk as a devil — As 
 mad as a devil — As poor as a devil — As dull as a 
 devil — and what not ! — when yet there's not so much 
 difference between us as would turn a pair of scales. 
 
 Min. And then perpetually playing fast and loose 
 with us ! Ever and anon giving their souls to the 
 devil; yet at last bequeathing them another way, 
 without the least thought of the pre-conveyance to us. 
 And therefore, I beseech ye, give me leave to return 
 to my old quarters. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 297 
 
 Cris, Not forgetting thy excellencies, poor Crispo. 
 
 Bod. Villiachoes 1 And must ye throw up your 
 cards when they play into your hand 1 Peace, and 
 be thankful ! all this but makes our game. Go, humour 
 them ! for we're restrain'd, and can do nothing without 
 themselves. They hold the candle to us. The mud's 
 their own : we only shake the vial and stir it up — and 
 so, look out, and sharp ! — 
 
 [Exeunt Crispo and Mingo. 
 Now to my own affair : — 
 
 [RoDERiGO takes out a paper and reads. 
 "At the Pandemonium or Common Council of the 
 Infernal Lake. Present — Lucifer, Abaddon, Belzebub, 
 and others, the high and mighty lords, potentates, and 
 princes of the Grand Abyss. — Whereas, upon taking 
 our yearly audits, it has been observ'd that the souls 
 of such as arrive generally agree that their wives sent 
 them : And whereas the said Board had formerly 
 ordered, that for the better discovery of the truth 
 thereof, some one of their body, as by lot it should 
 fall, repair to earth : And whereas the said lot fell 
 to Belphegor, Generalissimo of the Asphaltic Lake, — ■ 
 Kesolved as followeth : 
 
 "1. That the said Belphegor forthwith take upon 
 him that province, and that a million of ducats be 
 assign'd him, not as advance, but his full comple- 
 ment." — And well enough, no ill encouragement. 
 
 " 2. That for the better carrying on of the said 
 service, himself (and two other spirits assigned him as 
 servants) be at liberty to assume and actuate what 
 bodies, and settle in what part of the world, shall like 
 him best." — And I have done't. 
 
 " 3. That upon his first choice of his place of resi- 
 dence, he immediately marry a wife, and live with her 
 ten years if possible ; after which, pretending to die, 
 that he return, and upon his own experience make 
 affidavit of the pleasures and calamities of marriage. '* 
 — And I have done that first. A desperate service, no 
 doubt ! [He smiles. 
 
 "4. That he lose all qualities of a spirit (unless, 
 
298 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 perhaps, upon some last exigence), and become in all 
 things as a man ; subject to all the conditions of 
 humanity — poverty, imprisonment, passions, fear, hate, 
 love." — 
 
 Were there ten thousand more, that sweetened all : 
 Love ! — There's no passion but what's founded on 't ; 
 Men fear for what they love — desire, hate, envy. 
 And all because they love themselves. But mine 
 Carries a nobler tincture ; and I love 
 To that degree, I've half forgot the sex. 
 
 [He changes his voice. 
 And, but that she has little odd humours, and per- 
 haps, too, some fits of her mother ; Origen ! I'd 
 release thy kindness, and never accept other heaven 
 than here. 
 But see ! she comes ! 
 
 [Imperia and attendants cross the stage, as conducting 
 her sister Portia to her coach. They bow at dis- 
 tance. He points after her. 
 Such was the infant morn, when it first brake, 
 And blush'd, to see the Chaos left behind her. 
 Thence I felt passion first : what else I view'd 
 Wrought in my mind no change, no fond desire ; 
 But there, I am transported. — I, that was 
 High proof 'gainst all things else, there, there alone, 
 Weak, for to me whate'er she wills is fate. 
 
 [Imperia returns, sola. He runs to her. 
 Sure Nature was asleep when thou stol'st forth, 
 And all the graces she design'd an age 
 Crowded themselves together, and made thee. 
 
 Imjp. And are not you a fine gentleman to coax 
 your poor wife ? Alas, poor fool ! she cannot choose 
 but believe ye. 
 
 Rod. Couldst thou but see my heart, thou wouldst. 
 
 Imp. You can't dissemble, not you — ^you are — marry 
 — that you are. [She strokes him. 
 
 Rod. At least would be, whate'er I thought might 
 please thee ; 
 And were the world at my dispose, 'twere thine ! 
 
 Imp. No doubt of it. Witness the necklace ! 
 
BELPHEGOR. 299 
 
 Rod. I had forgot 
 
 Imp. And so you do everything that concerns me. 
 
 Rod. See 1 I have brought thee a better. 
 
 [He gives her a necklace. 
 
 Imp. But I long'd for t'other. The set of Neapolitan 
 horses, too ; but I'm your wife. There ! — [She throws 
 it away.] — Pray bestow it where you intended it ! I 
 could observe that eye of yours as my sister pass'd 
 you. [He offers to emhrace her. She turns him off. 
 
 Rod. Fie ! my Imperia, fie ! Wilt thou be always 
 thus 1 
 
 Imp. And much you care whether I am or not. 
 
 One would think a woman of my quality [She puts 
 
 finger in eye.] — I know not why so many good women 
 die, but wish I were dead too, that I might trouble 
 you no longer ! 
 
 Rod. No ! I'll die first, that thou mayst have 
 another. 
 
 Imp. No marvel, truly, — I live so well with you ! 
 
 Rod. She. cries ! By heaven she cries ! Poor inno- 
 cence ! — My life ! my soul ! my Imperia ! thou shalt 
 have anything — we'll come to articles. 
 
 Imp. And long you'll keep them. 
 
 Rod. By this kiss, for ever ! 
 
 [She receives it still sobbing. 
 
 Imp. And shall I have the necklace I long'd for] 
 
 [Sobs. 
 
 Rod. Thou shalt, my dear ! 
 
 Imp. The set of horses, too *? [Sobs. 
 
 Rod. I would they were better for thy sake. Thou 
 shalt ! 
 
 Imp. The brooch of diamonds would be very be- 
 coming, and the locket. — [A half sob.] — Now, 'twas so 
 pretty ! 
 
 Rod. That and whatever else thou wilt ! 
 
 Imp. The pearls, too, were large, round, oriental ; 
 and the pendants so delicate — I fancy how I should 
 appear in them ! [She comes info a pleasant humour. 
 
 Rod. Less than thou truly art ; but thou shalt have 
 them ! 
 
300 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Imp. And — \_she strokes him] — do what I will ] 
 
 Bod. What pleases thee sha'n't be amiss to me; 
 only be kind, and love thy Eoderigo ! 
 
 [They strike hands upon it. 
 
 Imp. A match, a match ! I will. 
 
 [Makes a loiu reverence. Exit. 
 
 Rod. Some tetchy mortal, now, would have quar- 
 rell'd; but we old experienc'd devils know better 
 things. [He walks. 
 
 And live with her ten years, if possible % Mistaken 
 fools, 'tis possible ! I will live with her, and that for 
 ever ! [It thunders. A Head rises. 
 
 Head. Thy articles, Belphegor, thy articles ! 
 
 Bod. And what of them ? The Casuists are clear 
 in the point; they may be shifted for advantage. 
 Sue them ! 
 
 Head. But is there not a public faith even among 
 devils 1 
 
 Bod. It may be broke for empire ; why not for love, 
 then, that commandeth empire 1 It may, and shall ! 
 Begone ! 
 
 Head. Be witness, thou inviolable Styx ! 
 Thou 'ast broken thine, and I pronounce thee mutinous. 
 
 [Sinks. 
 
 Bod. That I could reach the slave I'd make him 
 know 
 I fill my orb myself, and make my circle 
 "Without a borrowed light ! [Another thunder. 
 
 Squib on ! and say 
 
 I am more proud in my Imperia's love 
 Than when, as thunder proof, I once bestrid 
 That vast convex of lire, and leading up 
 The embattled legions of apostate cherubs, 
 Plough'd the parch'd earth and made the affrighted 
 
 deep 
 Shrink to its last recess ! 
 
 Enter Lviperia running. 
 
 Irap. 0, my dear ! heard you not the thunder 1 I'm 
 so afraid ! 
 
BELPHEGOR. 301 
 
 Eod. Of what 1 — Of thy own shadow % 
 
 Imp. How can you be alone 1 
 
 Bod. Yet meditating on thee; that very thought 
 were company enough. 
 
 Imp. 0, but confess; you look as you were dis- 
 turbed. 
 
 Bod. And thou so near 1 Impossible ! Or were it so, 
 The sight of thee would reconcile my passions, 
 And give me to myself [She strokes him. 
 
 Imp. But won't you tell me true % Are you not 
 well] 
 
 Bod. How can that man be ill that's happy enough 
 To pity Caesar ? And such am I in thee. 
 
 \He emhraces her. 
 Here will I fix my empire — here I'll reign, 
 And reign alone ! [He leads her off. Exeunt. 
 
 Scene il 
 
 A stately room in Grimaldi's house. 
 
 Enter Grimaldi, Marone, Fieschi, and Pansa. 
 
 Gri. You cannot say but that he paid you honestly. 
 
 Mar. I wish I could say I were as well satisfied. I 
 never found such honest payments rais'd an estate. 
 If ever I deal more on single interest, may I lose my 
 principal ! 
 
 Gii. Who'd have expected even that, at least [you'd 
 have] taken it from one so honourable, that has 
 perish'd his own fortune to save the public ? 
 
 Mar. These honourable rags are such fine things ! 
 How, I pray, do you find the price current ? Does 
 the frippery deal in such lumber? I think not. 
 Good sir, keep your whipt-posset for your better 
 friends, and give me more substantial fare. 
 
 Fies. His virtue might deserve better language ; 
 and it may be a question, if it had not been for him, 
 whether the State had been at least what it now is ! 
 
302 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Gri. And true ! When tlie sun could hold no 
 longer, and the moon slept, his eyes have been our 
 sentinels. 
 
 Mar. But what money has he got with all this ? 
 or what share in the government ? Simple merit 
 lords few men's horoscopes. 
 
 Gri. Greater than both — the conscience of worthy 
 actions. 
 
 Mar. What credit has it in the bank 1 For my 
 part, I can boast I have kill'd mine. And, if you'd 
 hear me, could show you a man has done nothing of 
 all this, and yet even the senate will confess him 
 wise, prudent, virtuous — everything ; and that he is 
 not one of themselves, I believe it more his own fault 
 than theirs. 
 
 Gri. Who should this be 1 
 
 Mar. What think ye of his brother-in-law, Eoderigo"? 
 There's a man for ye ! and, to my glory, he calls me 
 friend ! 
 
 Gri. But whence this meteor ? 
 
 Mar. Whence e'er he came, he darkens all our stars. 
 You'd swear he were descended of the Goths, 
 Or had been at the siege of Constantinople ! 
 
 Gri. Some Moor or baptiz'd Jew 1 
 
 Mar. Be what he will — 
 
 Turk, Pagan, or Infidel — would I'd his wealth 
 With his religion ! He's a Castilian ! 
 Were I that man ! 
 
 Fies. You'd take 't for an affront 
 
 His Catholic Majesty should call you cousin. 
 
 Mar. And yet you hear me not complain. I've that 
 Which finds me friends, or makes them ! — That one 
 
 thing 
 That can do all things ! How it makes a door 
 Or shut or open. 
 
 Fies. Or yourself, perhaps, 
 
 Snore o'er your cup, or find a fly in the ceiling. 
 
 Mar. That matters not. I'm sure it breeds com- 
 punction 
 And fellow-feeling in a man of office — 
 
BELPHEGOR. 303 
 
 Makes and remits offences — even Justice 
 More deaf than she is blind. And who would want it 1 
 Gri That would Grimaldi, and every man whose soul 
 Is not compos'd of the same dirt he treads. 
 Want it ! I mean, rather than have 't on terms 
 Dishonourable or sordid. 
 
 Mar. But do ye think 
 
 Any one's morals can reform the world ? 
 Don't they all thus 1 and, which is more, Court, follow, 
 Adore the rich, and spurn the unfortunate. 
 Gri. And I as much the world. 
 Mar. But say that world 
 
 Spurn you again ? Did ever wise man choose 
 Him for a friend that was deprest by fortune ? 
 Eats quit a falling house, and men a party 
 "When they perceive it going. 
 
 Gri. Where's honesty and honour all this while ? 
 Mar. Nay, if you come to that, farewell kingdoms ! 
 Nor is it mine to question them. Your servant ! 
 
 [Exit Marone. 
 Gri. Well, Fieschi, and what think'st thou 1 
 Fies. As is his name, such is the slave himself ! 
 Who'd expect other from a dog but snarling 1 
 
 Gri. His soul is sense; and as he has no knowledge 
 of virtue, he has no use of it. But how have you 
 dispos'd Montalto's matter 1 Is it so order'd that it 
 be not known from what hand it came ? 
 
 Fies. 'Twas the last thing I did. I left the writings 
 in a seal'd box with Bianca, who has assur'd me she'll 
 W9.tch an opportunity, and convey it into her lady's 
 closet ! 
 
 Gii. As well as I could wish, good man ! 
 He could have sooner perish'd than told me — 
 Told me, his friend — he wanted me ! AVho sees 
 His friend's distress, and stays till he's entreated, 
 He comes too late. 'Tis an extorted kindness. 
 Lost ere it comes, and shows he wanted will 
 T'ave done 't at all. But this Marone sticks in my 
 
 stomach ! 
 "\Mience truly is he ? 
 
304 BELPHEGOE. 
 
 Fies. Pansa, I think, remembers tlie first plantation. 
 
 Pan. That do I, sir, from the time he first came to 
 town in second mourning — that is, in a livery as 
 ragged and tatter'd as an he -goat; his hat right 
 beggar's block, no crown to 't; his doublet and 
 breeches so suitable, that in a dark morning he'd 
 have mistaken one for t'other ; his stockings without 
 feet or ancles, like a chandler's drawing-sleeves ; and 
 those, too, he durst not trust off his legs, for fear of 
 crawling away. In a word, a thing made up of so 
 many several parishes, that you'd have taken him 
 at first sight for a frontispiece of the resurrection. 
 
 Fies. Thence he came in as a sub-subcollector, and 
 thence into St. George's Bank ; and now, being in his 
 nature insolent, this imaginary reputation has made 
 him intolerable. 
 
 Gri. And for his other qualities, I know somewhat 
 myself. He never forgave beyond the opportunity of 
 a revenge, or spake well of any man but to his greater 
 disadvantage. A pretty gentleman ! but, 'tis pity — 
 
 Fies. Nay, worse ! shall play both the devil's parts 
 of tempter and accuser; provoke his friend into a 
 freedom of talk, and then inform it. 
 
 Ghi. Enough ! and for fear of any mistake make 
 another step to Bianca. 
 
 [Exeunt Fieschi and Pansa, Manet Grimaldi. 
 And this man thrives 1 Lucian, thy gods ! The 
 groans of deprest virtue and loud laughters of exalted 
 folly gave first name to the fortunate islands,"^^ where 
 men slept themselves away in the melancholy con- 
 templations between virtue and success. 
 
 To him enter Montalto and Portia. 
 
 You have prevented me — T was just coming 
 
 To give you joy. The senate have at last 
 
 Consider'd your services ! 
 
 Mon. And sent me a gewgaw, 
 
 [Montalto tahes out a chain and medal, and shows it 
 
 An empty nothing ! Pth ! 
 
 * Supposed to have been the Canary Islands. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 305 
 
 Gri 'Twas never intended 
 
 Beyond a mark of honour, and a pledge 
 Of future kindness ! 
 
 Mon. He's a beast that serves 
 
 A commonwealth ; for, when he has spent his blood 
 And sunk his fortune to support the pride 
 And luxury of those few that cheat the rest, 
 He straight becomes the object of their scorn 
 Or jealousy. 
 
 Gri. How oddly my friend argues 
 
 Against himself ! Have you not served the State 
 These twenty years 1 And can you think it wisdom 
 To quarrel now 1 Or now, when reasonably 
 You might expect the fruit of all your hazards. 
 Arm them against you 1 Virtue, merit, worth, 
 Ne'er wanted enemies ; make not you more ! 
 
 Mon. When they behold themselves through their 
 false optics. 
 They swell a gnat into an elephant ; 
 When others, how they turn the glass, and lessen 
 A mountain to a mole-hill ! 
 
 G)'i. Are you the only man has been so serv'd 1 
 
 Who deserv'd better for a lawgiver. 
 Than Solon ? or captain, than Thrasibulus ? 
 Or orator, than Demosthenes ? Yet Athens, 
 Ungrateful Athens, banish'd the two first. 
 And slew the latter ! Unto whom owed Eome 
 More than to Manlius, who, when her capital 
 Was grown too hot for Jupiter, preserved it 1 
 Or what might not Camillus have pretence to. 
 Who, when she was reduc'd to her last stake, 
 Push'd it and won it ? What should I mention 1 — 
 Rutilius, Scipio, Hannibal, Themistocles — 
 Men famous in their age — yet they fell — 
 Fell where they most deserv'd. 
 
 Mo7i. How my blood curdles at it ! And methinks 
 I feel a kind of currishness shot through me. 
 And want no property of a dog but fawning, 
 Tho' necessary to a rising man. 
 
 For. Is this that fortitude, my Montalto, 
 u 
 
306 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 This that heroic virtue you taught me 1 
 
 Sure 'tis not the Montalto I have seen, 
 
 When victory sat perching on his helm ; 
 
 Or that Montalto, when, opprest by numbers. 
 
 He lost the day, and yet brought home more glory 
 
 Than if he had been conqueror ; yet still, 
 
 Still the same even temper — ^unconcern'd 
 
 At loss or vict'ry ! 
 
 Mon. Would it not heat a man 
 
 To view his wounds, which, like so many mouths. 
 Speak out his wrongs the louder 1 — t'ave consum'd 
 Himself to warm ingratitude 1 
 
 For. The fruit 
 
 Of worthy actions is to have done them ; 
 And every man that will may give 't himself. 
 
 Mon. How can I stand my breast against a torrent 
 Of adverse fortune 1 
 
 For. 'Tis your greater glory 
 
 To stem that flood. How 're you beholden to her. 
 That she could pass the herd and single you 
 To combat her ? 
 
 Mon. But she has cut my sinews. 
 
 For. The more your honour ! I have heard you say 
 That a Eoman was more glorious in his scorch'd 
 Than armed hand. Do not distrust yourself, 
 And you must conquer her ! The constant man 
 Is master of himself and fortune too. 
 
 Mon. Bless me ! Thou glorious woman, never made 
 Of common earth, I am concern'd for thee ! 
 
 For. To the world's fondlings be their world ! 
 With me, 
 My own Montalt' outweighs the apparition. 
 The airy dream, which, when they think a substance. 
 Grasp at it, they awake and find it nothing ! 
 Sure, had it anything worthy our love. 
 It Avere a mind that can contemn it. 
 
 Gri. Brave woman ! 
 
 And who might'st bring philosophy to manners. 
 
 For. If you call this philosophy, 'tis what 
 Its first inventors meant it, ere our pedants 
 
BELPHEGOR. 307 
 
 Had made it rather difficult than great. 
 Come, my Mont alto, come ! and let th' example 
 Of others' virtue now engage your own : 
 Their glory your imitation. 
 
 Mon. Thou hast o'ercome, my Portia, and I'll try 
 If that content the larger world denies 
 May be found in ourselves. Even poverty. 
 If it can be content, has lost its name. 
 He never has enough that gapes for more ; 
 Opinion was never rich, nor content poor. 
 
 Gri. Now, how I love this rugged honesty ! 
 Like the first matter, 't 'as all the seeds of good, 
 Only wants form and order. \Exeunt 
 
 Scene iil 
 
 The First Scene again. 
 
 Enter Quartilla and Scintilla. 
 
 Qua. Believe me, our signiora has manag'd her 
 affair, and if I understand anything of the world, 
 well. 
 
 Scin. As how 1 Pray instruct me against the good 
 time. 
 
 Qua. Sh'as brought my Don on's knees ; 'tis all now 
 as she'll have it. 
 
 Scin. That all ? A mighty business ! Ha'n't they 
 been married two years 1 and does not he love her, 
 and she know it 1 Few women but would have done 
 as much ; besides, — and 'tis every day's experience, — 
 even the wisest men, when they once come to love in 
 earnest, turn generally half-witted. 
 
 Qua. You are to be instructed indeed, Scintilla. 
 He is good-natur'd and does love her ; but there are 
 many stubborn fools in the world, and a woman need 
 have all her -wits about her to keep her own. But to 
 get ground, I know it may be done, but not so easy. 
 
 Scin. I warrant ye, do but bring him to the right 
 
308 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 manage at first, humour him in everything you can't 
 hinder, and the rest follows ; 'tis not the point whether 
 she loves, but whether he believes so. There's your 
 art : to get him play himself into the noose, and be 
 proud oft too. 
 
 Qua. Well, well, the world is strangely alter'd since 
 my time. Young girls then were not wont to be so 
 knowing, but now they are even able to teach us. 
 
 Enter Pansa. 
 
 Pan. Now, grannum, and my pretty convenience ! 
 
 Qua. Grannum, with a murrain t' ye ! 
 
 [Pansa colls Scintilla. 
 Nothing down with you but squab-pigeons ! — A likely 
 fellow if a woman durst trust him, but men now-a- 
 days are so deceitful. [Aside. 
 
 Scin. Get ye to Bianca ! I'll tell her — you do so 
 mousle one. 
 
 Qua. Fie, Signior Pansa, fie ! is there no more but 
 fall on without so much as a short grace 1 I'm sure 
 it was not so 
 
 Pan. The year you lost your maidenhead ; and that 
 was so long since, you have by this time forgotten you 
 ever had one. 
 
 Qua. Away, knave, away ! 
 
 Scm. Yet she '11 not turn her back to you now. 
 
 Qua. Nor a better than himself 
 
 Pan. No anger, I beseech ye ! After the dull rate 
 men made love formerly, I should look upon a petti- 
 coat as one of the most defensible spots in Christen- 
 dom — so many scarfs, curtains, portcullises, counter- 
 works, and what not ; but, now that we'ave a shorter 
 cut of surprise, sapping, downright storm, or springing 
 a mine, up goes scarf, curtain, portcullis — and, hey 
 da! 
 
 Scin. Well, Pansa, thou 'It never break thy heart 
 for love. 
 
 Pan. Love ! — 'tis a kind of colic ; as long as ye keep 
 it under girdle ye may linger on with 't, and well 
 enough; but if it once get breast-high, the whole mass 
 
BELPHEGOR. 309 
 
 is infected, and I can only say, as physicians of their 
 dying patients, his time is come, cover him up, and 
 send for a parson. 
 
 Enter Bianca. 
 
 Qvu. Come, Scintilla ! 'tis as thou saidst, here she 
 comes. He's a filthy man, e'en leave them together. 
 [Exeunt Quartilla and Scintilla. 
 
 Pan. B'w'ye, grannum ! And now, my best girl, 
 thou hast not forgot, I hope 1 
 
 Bian. I msli I had. My lady was abroad this 
 afternoon, and I laid the box as you directed; but, 
 when she came forth, she gave me such a look, ask'd 
 me who had been there, and particularly named your 
 master. 
 
 Pan. Never the worse ; she could not have done 
 less. But thou hadst the grace to deny all ? 
 
 Bian. D'ye take me for a fool ? But this I told her, 
 — a gentleman I never saw before brought it, and 
 pray'd me to lay it in her closet, as I had done, and I 
 hop'd without offence ; if otherwise, I was sorry. 
 
 Pan. And that clear' d all again % 
 
 Bian. Quite contrary ! I saw fire in her eyes, yet 
 trembled, and could hardly speak. At last, she com- 
 manded me to find you out, and that you let your 
 master know she must speak with him. 
 
 Pan. Must, my she secretary ? 
 
 Bian. Yes, must, and out of hand. And if I lose 
 my place by the bargain, I have spun a fine thread. 
 
 Pan. Fear nothing : or if thou should' st, my master's 
 a gentleman, and my bed will hold two. 
 
 Bian. You men consider nothing. 
 
 Pan. And you wom^n too much. I tell thee, my 
 master, the knight, shall make his amour to thy lady, 
 the princess, while I, Pansa, the squire, put it in 
 practice with thee, Bianca, the damsel. 
 
 Bian. Well, now, and that's so fine ! but when will 
 ye bring me some of those books 1 Beshrew me, but I 
 should have broken my heart long ere this if 'twere 
 not for them. 
 
310 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Pan. Thou shalt have anything — my heart, my 
 all! 
 
 Bian. 'Tis not the first time you told me so. Ay, 
 but 
 
 Pa7i. D'ye think I am bound to find ye fresh oaths 
 every time 1 
 
 Bian. When shall I see ye at our house % 
 
 Pan. To-morrow, without fail. And is not this 
 better than putting all to the last % And what's that 
 but singing a psalm under the gallows % 
 
 Bian. But be sure, now, and find out your master 
 presently, and send him to my lady ! 
 
 Pan. Doubt not of either. — [Exit BiANCA.] — 'Tis the 
 best-humour'd thing — a jolly pug, and well-mouth'd 
 — none of the first or second rate, I must confess ; 
 he that sees her by day would hardly break his neck 
 to come at her by night. However, she's good mer- 
 chantable ware, and well-condition'd; and, how shy 
 soever she now and then makes it, serves my turn 
 when a better's out of the way. [Exit Pansa. 
 
 Act II. — Scene i. 
 
 The First Scene again. 
 
 Enter Eoderigo, solus. 
 
 Rod. My private instructions were to pervert and 
 enlarge the kingdom of darkness. Nor have I been 
 idle. I thought Marone might have given me some 
 pains, but he was mine at first, and has engaged to 
 me for his brothers of the bank ; but this Montalto 
 I much doubt, or rather fear him. 
 
 Enter Marone. 
 
 My friend ! welcome, my better half! we're now con- 
 cern'd, body, soul, interest. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 311 
 
 Mar. And when I fail ye, I'll turn a new leaf, and 
 build hospitals. But what progress have ye made 
 with Montalto 1 
 
 Rod. He's rugged, and wiU neither lead nor drive 
 but his own way ; and therefore I question whether 
 we had not better let him alone. 
 
 Mar. But he is poor and lofty ; despair him not. 
 This gold, 'tmll make a man do anything ; I never 
 yet found man or woman that withstood it long. 
 
 Rod. I would you'd feel his pulse, and I'll advance 
 the money. 
 
 Mar. That shall be least in the case, and I'd will- 
 ingly undertake it, but that, as you know, there's 
 no kindness between us ; and for me but so much 
 as to appear in it may render it suspected, whereas 
 from you, his brother-in-law, his friend, it can't but 
 pass. 
 
 Rod. I yield : it shall be so ! 
 
 Mar. Then, if you find him cold, I'll discover it my- 
 self. Tell me of 's ^drtue ! — a rattle for children ! I 
 hate it perfectly, and him for it. 'Why should any 
 man pretend to more than comes to his share 1 
 
 Rod. Now let me hug my genius ! and whom I love 
 so well, that, were I not sped already, I'd go no 
 farther than your family. 
 
 Mar. Between ourselves, give her a fig, and see if I 
 don't fit ye to your wish. 
 
 Rod. by no means; you run too fast ! 
 
 Mar. You need not be asham'd of her; we are 
 descended from Marius, and have had some cro^vn'd 
 heads of the house, tho', I confess it, somewhat long 
 since they have had any sceptre in their hands. 
 
 Rod. I judge it by yourself 
 
 Mar. Nor, to tell ye truth, can every man say so 
 much, or would, perhaps, be willing to hear all that 
 may be said of his. And that's the reason why so 
 many of the ancients were descended from the gods ; 
 for, when their birth was so obscure that they were 
 asham'd to own it, the jade the mother, or some blind 
 poet, found out a god to father the bastard. • ^Mlat, I 
 
312 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 pray, were Bacchus, Hercules, Eomulus, and several 
 others 1 Story lies, or their fathers were of the doubt- 
 ful gender, and their mothers of the common. But 
 this by the by. And, because I hear somebody coming, 
 I'll withdraw, for fear it happen to be Montalto. 
 
 [Exit Marone. 
 Bod. Devils, do they call us 1 Poor devils, where 
 have we been bred 1 This one, Marone, may shame us 
 all, and, had I done no more, is worth my journey. 
 
 Enter Montalto. 
 
 Health and his own wishes to my brother ! 
 
 3Ion. The same and more, were 't possible, to you. 
 
 Bod. But I'm half angry — angry with myself — 
 That this alliance is not yet made friendship. 
 
 Mon. No man shall court it more. And such a one 
 As loves the man and not his fortune — such 
 As can hide anything but his love, and whose 
 Mistakes shall be of weakness, not design. 
 
 Bod. Now, how you speak, my soul ! This empty 
 world 
 Is hollow, false, ungrateful ; and men live 
 As if 'twere made for them, they for themselves. 
 
 3fon. 'Twas ever so. 
 
 Bod. Witness those mangled officers, 
 
 Maim'd soldiers, wooden-legg'd artillerymen. 
 Spies and intelligencers out at heels — 
 Some showing their wounds, others numbering the 
 battles they have been in and the estates they have 
 lost ; some muttering libels, others modelling a refor- 
 mation, and not the least part of them studying where 
 to get a meal upon reputation. 
 
 Mon. And yet there's not a private soldier but 
 glories in his wounds, as having received them in 
 defence of his country. 
 
 Bod. And no doubt but they call them worthy 
 deeds, but I say they are deeds worthy of repentance ; 
 and such are all services paid to the ungrateful. 
 To go no further than yourself, what have you got 
 by all yours 1 
 
BELPHEGOR, 313 
 
 Mon. The satisfaction of having done what I ought. 
 Virtue is theatre enough into herself ! 
 
 Rod. You have said well and worthily; and, be- 
 cause he that is pleased with another's good increases 
 his own, give me leave, brother, and now friend, to 
 propose to you an honourable advantage. 
 
 [MoNTALTO hows to Mm. 
 But it requires secrecy, and I must have your word 
 for 't. 
 
 Mon. I know not what it may be. 
 
 Rod. You're at your liberty if you don't like it. 
 
 Mon. You have my word. 
 
 [Imperia is seen jpeeping in. 
 
 Rod. Then thus : There is a prince, whose name 
 must be as yet conceal'd, is so sensible of your merit 
 and this republic's ingratitude, that he has order'd ye 
 ten thousand pistoles, as a small pledge of his future 
 favour; and I'll advance the money. 
 
 [MoNTALTO starts. 
 
 Mon. Ten thousand pistoles ! and from a prince 
 unknown ! And what must I do for all this '? 
 
 Rod. Kings have their reasons to themselves, too 
 deep for private men to fathom. Who knows but he 
 may have a design upon Italy 1 — this, or some other 
 place 1 and, which is further in my instructions, has 
 pitch'd on you as general for the expedition 1 
 
 Mon. How are you sure it has not taken wind % 
 
 Rod. Not a man on this side the Alps knows it 
 besides ourselves. 
 
 Mon. Or that your king will keep his word, more 
 than Genoa has hers ? 
 
 Rod. I have the monej^ in the house. He's coming ! 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Mon. But is not this to betray my country % 
 
 Rod. Give it another name, and do 't ! Who ever 
 scrupled a safe revenge % Success will call it justice. 
 
 Mon. Upon my country ? 
 
 Rod. But ungrateful country. That only is my 
 country where I am well ! And what think you % 
 
 Mon. That you have said too much for me to hear. 
 
314 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 I lend a hand to slave my country 1 No ! 
 That won't Montalto, the disoblig'd Montalto ; 
 Virtue forbid the thought ! Tho' she mayVe lost 
 Th' affection of a mother, she's my mother ; 
 And, as she bears that name, I must and will 
 Support her, or lie buried in her ruins ! 
 
 Bod. Howe'er, I doubt not but I'm safe ; your word. 
 The great credentials of mankind, secures me. 
 
 Mon. Unlawful promises oblige to nothing 
 But a repentance ; and to keep mine here 
 Would be a double crime, and break those laws 
 Of piety and faith my country claims. 
 
 Bod. Country ! — A thing of chance, no choice of 
 yours j 
 Your mother might have dropped ye anywhere ! But if 
 You break your Word, you violate your honour ; 
 And that's your own. 
 
 3fon. Perish for me that honour, 
 
 Life, estate, everything, so she be safe ! 
 And so, my sister-in-law's husband, no more friend, 
 I'll not resolve ye Avhat I'll do ; but know, 
 'Twas not within my word not to prevent ye. [Bxit. 
 
 Bod. Bubbled ! by this good light, merely bubbled 1 
 and when, one would have thought, I had him — all to 
 nothing ! Sure, sure, our masters lie under a great 
 mistake, and mankind were once the ancient er devils, 
 and invented that sham of their wives sending them 
 only to frighten us from vent'ring among them. 
 
 Enter Imperia. 
 
 I hope she did not hear me. [Aside. 
 
 Imp. And what, if I may be so bold, have my wise 
 brother-in-law and you been projecting 1 "When d'ye 
 set out^ 
 
 Bod. For what, my dear, or whither 1 
 
 Imp. Why, for the Indies in a cock-boat, or France 
 on a mill-stone ! I hope you'll go by the north-west 
 passage, and take a bait by the way, to hear the mere- 
 maids sing ! Your friend, my sister's husband, would 
 make a special general for the expedition ! Ten 
 
BELPHEGOR. 315 
 
 thousand pistoles will do no hurt; you have it in the 
 house, and may advance it. 
 
 Rod. Betray 'd too ! — [Aside.'] — But why this to me] 
 Prithee, my dear 
 
 Imp. Methinks you're very familiar. 
 
 [She turns him off. 
 
 Rod. Nay, my best Avife, do but hear me ! 
 
 Imp. Wife 1 marry ! You think I cannot read your 
 thoughts in your looks % You must be plotting, must 
 
 ye? 
 
 Rod. If to raise thee to grandeur be plotting, I'm 
 guilty ! One successful work a-la-mode is a surer game 
 than a thousand good works. 
 
 Imp. I smell your design ; it is to ruin me. I was 
 once told by a cunning woman beggary would be my 
 end, and you take the way to 't. 
 
 Rod. 1 have enough — ne'er fear it. 
 
 Imp. Yes, and are fi^ee enough of it to every one 
 but me ; and there it goes from your heart. 
 
 Rod. Thou know'st the contrary ; it is but ask and 
 have. Dost want anything 1 
 
 Imp. As if a woman must have nothing but what 
 ghe wants and asks ! My family were never wont to 
 ask. 
 
 Rod. And I've been kind to them for your sake. I 
 have honourably bestowed two of your sisters. 
 
 Imp. They could have done 't themselves. 
 
 Rod. Sent a brother of yours into the Levant ; 
 another for France ; a third into Spain ; and am now 
 making provision for a fourth. So that, in effect, I 
 have married a tribe, to enjoy one. 
 
 ImjJ. Yes, to twit me mth it. 
 
 Enter Don Hercio. 
 
 signior ! that you had come a little sooner ! Our 
 spouse and I have been at jingle-jangle. He knows 
 
 1 love him, and that's the reason. 
 
 Her. Hough 1 — jangle with you ! I hope, sir, you 
 
 did not lift a finger ; if you had 
 
 [He cocJcs his liat, and struts. 
 
316 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Imp. I'd given him two for one. [She points at him. 
 
 Rod. And who are you ? 
 
 Her. Soy hydalgo come il re! My name — Don 
 Hercio Zanziimmim Gogmagog, lineally descended 
 from the Dukes of Infantado, Trinidado — or some- 
 body else. And if you had 
 
 Imp. No, there was nothing like it. 
 
 [EoDERiGO startles. 
 
 Her. I only say, if he had, my great, great, great, 
 great-grandfather's ashes — ^his that gave the Sultan 
 the lie, and took the Cham of Tartary by the whiskers 
 royal — would blush to see any of his posterity not true 
 to honour. You say he did not, and I'm satisfied. 
 But if he had, or durst but offer 't — Voto ! 
 
 Imp. Come, signior, TU be his security. 
 
 [Hercio leads Imperia of. 
 
 Rod. She has her bravo, too ! Cowardly devil that 
 I was not to draw upon him ! Yes, and fright my 
 wife, who, which is some sign of love, did not aggra- 
 vate it. Well, go thy ways, thou hast thy frolics ! 
 yet it shall go hard but I will hit thy humour. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Scene i i. 
 
 A nolle room in Montalto's house. 
 
 Enter Portia sola. 
 
 For. My husband is convinced, and so am I, 
 The action, in all its circumstances. 
 Must be Grimald's ; for 't can be none's but his. 
 And yet I'm racked between the two extremes 
 Of friendship to him and my just resentments 
 To his false nephew. All unknown to us, 
 The generous Grimaldi has restored 
 My husband's fortune : his degenerous nephew 
 Has taken this occasion to renew 
 His long rejected love. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 317 
 
 E7der Fieschi, as at a stand, and gazing on her. 
 
 Fies. Her virtue, sure, 
 
 Has wrought impossibilities, and added 
 New graces to her person, as if infinity 
 Could be increas'd. 
 
 For. I sent for ye, Fieschi ; 
 
 But it had been more honourable in you 
 Not to have given me cause. Your worthy uncle 
 Has, to his frequent obligations, 
 Added a fresh — I need not tell ye what. 
 
 Fies. And 'tis his satisfaction that he wanted 
 Neither the will nor means of doing it. 
 
 For. Debts are discharg'd with payment. Benefits, 
 Pay what we can, there will be still arrear. 
 But, for his nephew to profane that friendship, 
 I could be angry — verily I could 
 And would, were 't not to make another's ill 
 My own aflfliction. 
 
 Fies. Blame your virtue, then ! 
 
 Montalto loved it ; and the selfsame cause 
 That absolves him absolves Fieschi too. 
 He rested not in speculation only ; 
 And shall I turn philosopher 1 
 
 For. I'm his, 
 
 And only his, and therefore barred to you. 
 
 Fies. But nature's free, and walks not by restraint 
 But choice. 
 
 Fo7\ And I have mine. 
 
 Fies. She never coined 
 
 Those bugbear words of honour, jealousy ; 
 She ne'er impaled free woman, or designed 
 A thing so excellent for one's embrace. 
 
 For. Enough ! When that I ever heard ye, was as 
 Much against my will as the concealing it 
 Against my duty. No ; a virtuous woman 
 Takes no more liberty than what she ought. 
 
 Fies. At least blame love, not me. I've often rais'd 
 Your great idea in my soul, and, as 
 A diamond only cuts a diamond. 
 
318 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Set your own virtue 'gainst yourself; yet still 
 Love gets the upper ground, and pours upon me : 
 So weak a fence is virtue against love. 
 
 Por. We still excuse ourselves. The fault lies not 
 In virtue, but our resolutions. 
 Could we once make our actions work up 
 To our intentions, the work were done. 
 There — take your idle whatsoever it be ! 
 
 \Slm takes out a long white box, and throws it 
 toward him. 
 I knew the hand too well to open it. 
 
 Fies. And will you still torment me with the sight 
 Of a forbidden good 1 
 
 Por. Not good to you. 
 
 Because forbidden. If you're wise, begone ! 
 
 Fies. You've said it, and I obey. 
 [He is going off, as fm^getting the box ; she hicks it after 
 him ; he takes it up. Exit. 
 
 Pot. But take your box wi' ye. 
 Sure I have done some evil, and the guilt 
 Sticks on my brow. It must be so, or he 
 Had never offered this amour to me. 
 Be't what it will, this I'm sute, my will 
 Had nothing in 't ; yet how poor and cheap 
 Do even the appearances of evil make us ! 
 
 Enter Grimaldi and Montalto hand in hand. 
 
 Mon. Your repeated obligations 
 Deprive me of my liberty. 
 
 Gri. In exchange, take mine ! 
 
 Por. The only injury you ever did us ; 
 For it has put us on the necessity 
 Of living and dying ungrateful. 
 
 Mon. A benefit too great to be received. 
 
 Gri. Not for a friend to give. 
 
 Mon. But what return 
 
 Could ye propose 1 
 
 Gri. 'T has overpaid itself 
 
 To have done well, in hopes of a return, 
 Is the most sordid usury. Alloy 
 
 I 
 
BELPHEGOR. 319 
 
 Does but embase the coin ; and such a thought 
 Had derogated from the majesty 
 Of friendship, and been interest. 
 
 Man. But does not 
 
 EquaHty make the lasting friendship ? 
 
 Gri Of minds, I grant it. Friendship cannot stand 
 With vice or infamy. Degenerous mixtures 
 Seldom outlive the birth. And as ours was 
 Founded on virtue, like a true-built arch, 
 May it grow up until it knit at top. 
 And bid defiance to the shocks of fortune. 
 
 For. Thus you o'ercome us every way. 
 
 Mon. Teach me 
 
 What 'tis to be a friend ; one without whom. 
 As a man can't be happy, 'tis not his least 
 Unhappiness he never knows his friend 
 But by being unhappy himself. A friend ! 
 My earthly God ! 
 
 Ghi. As you are mine, no more ! 
 
 Come, let's enjoy this salt of life — this all 
 That gives it relish, and without which life 
 Were but a dull parenthesis of time. 
 The world a wilderness, and man the beast. 
 I've wanted company in a crowd. Blest friendship ! 
 Thou girdle of the world ! Had I been heathen, 
 I'd sacrificed unto no other goddess. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 
 The First Scene again. 
 
 Enter Imperia, Quartilla, and Scintilla. 
 
 Imp. To say otherwise were to belie him ; and, 
 as all men have their faults, the worst of his that I 
 know is that he loves me too well. 
 
 Scin. And such a fault may be easily borne with. 
 
 Quar. Thou'rt a mere chicken, girl ! there may be 
 as great a mistake in loving a woman too well as in 
 
320 BELPHEGOR, 
 
 loving her too little. What would I care for a man 
 should court my little finger, look babies in my eyes, 
 sit and admire me 1 That was not the fashion of my 
 time ; men were men then. 
 
 Imp. And there, too, he's likely enough — truss and 
 well knit. But why this to me 1 
 
 Quar. Your ladyship was wont to allow us this 
 harmless freedom. 
 
 ImjJ. Or, if I don't, you'll take it. 
 
 Quar. Without offence, then, what diversion have ye'? 
 
 Imp. As pleases my husband ; and I have neither 
 eye nor ear to anything else. 
 
 Sciii. And a friend would study as much to please you. 
 
 Imj). I should think one husband were enough for 
 any modest woman. Are there naughty women 1 
 
 Quar. Marry forbid it ! Or that they should not be 
 content with one eye, one hand, one leg. 
 
 Imp. But one's husband, tho', is the best friend. 
 
 Quar. And the worst company. Fie, madam, you'll 
 ruin the sex ! Husband, say jel A mere thing — a 
 cover-slut of custom ! 
 
 Scin. Has not every well two buckets 1 — every ship 
 two anchors 1 Or did you never see two cocks cruck- 
 ling about one hen, and her all the while picking of 
 straws to make her own nest ? 
 
 Quar. Well said, my fine girl ! Thou may'st come 
 to something in time. 
 
 Imp>. How these jades hit my humour ! — [Aside.] — 
 O — but — would a woman — a virtuous woman — a 
 woman of honour 
 
 Quar. Do anything but say her prayers. 
 
 Impf. Besides — the injury. 
 
 Scin. To what 1 — or whom 1 You lose nothmg, sell 
 no household stuff, nor waste goods. 
 
 Quar. Or if the main house fall, do but keep up the 
 dovecot, and you'll ne'er want pigeons till ye dam 
 up the loovre.* 
 
 * " Loover or lover," an opening at the top of a dovecot. 
 "A loover or tunnel in the roof or toj) of a great hall to avoid 
 smoke.''— Baeet, 1590. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 321 
 
 Imp. But you know I seldom go abroad, and for 
 me to receive visits would make my husband jealous. 
 
 Scin. Thatain 
 
 Quar. Or can he be so ill-natured, as, when his own 
 belly's full, to deny a beggar his leavings 1 
 
 Irap. But people will be apt to talk of a body. 
 
 Quar. For what % — For going to church \ Can't you 
 pretend a vow of devotion and chastity for three days 
 a week 1 
 
 Imp. And suppose he make the like for t'other 
 four] 
 
 Scin. How willingly, now, would she be persuaded 
 into her own desires ! — [Aside.] — You're young, and 
 the town's full. 
 
 Imp. You could not set up, then, with partridge and 
 quail for the year round 1 
 
 Scin. No, by my troth, could I not ; and yet I've 
 but a puling stomach. 
 
 Imp. There's somewhat in 't. What's everything 
 we do but a mere circle of variety, or grand oleo 
 dish'd up several ways to sweeten the wearisomeness 
 of one pleasure by another 1 What's imagination or 
 desire, when once attained, but surfeit 1 Fish of four 
 days old — away with 't ! 
 
 Quar. Your ladyship takes it very naturally. Don't 
 the men say of us — women — and women — and more 
 women — but still women 1 
 
 Imp. And shall woman — nature's last hand, to show 
 what she could do — she alone walk by herself 1 — To 
 one dark lantern 1 — She shut her windows to the 
 sun, to pore over a farthing candle 1 Which of them- 
 selves does it 1 — and shall 1 1 
 
 Scin. No, madam ! if the men ring the changes, I 
 know not why we mayn't shuffle, and cast knaves 
 again. 
 
 Imp. Well fare, honest Mahomet ! We read of no 
 couples in his paradise — and yet young juicy girls, 
 plump, balmy, and never above fifteen. 
 
 Quar. Beloved fifteen ! 
 
 Imp. And eyes ! 
 
 X 
 
322 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Scin. More sparMing than the diamond. 
 
 Imp. I should have thought the cow's eye better. 
 A demure look keep its own counsel, and a little seem- 
 ing innocence cheats a man into a fondness. The 
 sparkling eye may hit a straggling fool ; but 'tis the 
 melting, 'tis the dying eye that sweeps whole ranks. 
 Let's see — [to Scintilla] — set thine ! — Hold — ^there — 
 there was a look ! So — that again 1 
 
 Unter FiESCHi, as consulting somewhat to himself. 
 
 Fies. What ! practising against the ball 1 I fear me 
 I may have disturbed ye. 
 
 Imp. Not at all, unless it be with your new gravity. 
 
 But whence — whence this starched face"? — or why*? 
 
 [She beckons o/Quartilla and Scintilla. 
 
 [Exeu7it. 
 
 Fies. Besides my former disappointments, it is not 
 many hours since I left your sister Portia — but the 
 same chagrin still. Like the Parthian, she kills by 
 flying. 
 
 Imp. Alas, poor Fieschi, thou'rt smitten ! I thought 
 how ye loved me, and have found it. 
 
 Fies. You wrong me • there's nothing might have 
 taken in that sullen fort but I've attempted — made 
 all the approaches love backed with interest could 
 contrive, but all in vain. 
 
 Imp. The necklace cost me twelve hundred ducats. 
 
 Fies. That you had seen with what scorn she kick'd 
 it after me ! 
 
 Imp. That all 1 — she shall have a better jewel. 
 
 Fies. To as much purpose. A rock is not more 
 immovable. 
 
 Imp. Yet I have known a rock blown up. 
 
 Fies. Her virtue is as firm as her face charming. 
 
 Imp. Away, ye fool ! I have too many charms of 
 my own to suspect another's. — 'Tis not her beauty, 
 but virtue, quarrels me — that half-faced virtue that 
 has its faults as well as others, but a better way of 
 hiding 'em. 
 
 Fies. Be 't what it will, 't 'as conquered me ; and. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 323 
 
 were 't not for my prior love to you, I must have doted 
 on her. 
 
 Imp. False man ! And, when I think upon the 
 thing I'd curse, I'll name Fieschi [She seems to weep. 
 
 Fies. Be merciful, and kill me, or forgive me ! I'll 
 yet attempt her — I will ! — ^but — she's your sister. 
 
 Imp. What's that to my command ? Only conquer 
 her, and wear myself and fortune. That nature had 
 made me a man ! Consider — I'll return instantly ! 
 
 [Exit 
 
 Fies. If ever man had a wolf by the ears, I have 
 one now. If I renew my attempts on Portia, and 
 carry her, I hazard the friendship between my uncle 
 and Montalto ; and, if I don't, I lose Imperia. Of all 
 devils, defend me from a woman's devil ! 
 
 Erder Imperia, with lags of gold in her lap and a 
 casket of jewels in her hand. 
 
 Imp. There ! — [she drops the hags, and gives him the 
 .] — There's more gold and richer jewels, and, 
 as a farther pledge, this — [a ring] — and my heart. 
 Not yet resolved ^ Away ! [She strokes him. 
 
 Fies. I was meditating some new contrivance. 'Tis 
 done ! 
 
 Imp. There spake my better angel. 
 
 Fies. But say 
 
 Imp. More but's? Has she no she friend, no 
 woman? — and while I think on't, you may trust 
 Bianca — yourself no wit, or these no rhetoric. 
 
 [Pointing to the hags, etc. 
 
 Fies. Once more, 'tis done, as sure as fate had sealed 
 it ! And if Pansa has wrought up Bianca, as I once 
 designed it, you'll say 't yourself. [He leads her off. 
 
324 belphegor. 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 MoNTALTo's House. 
 Enter Pansa and Bianca. 
 
 Pan. They're all abroad, then % 
 
 Bian. Whether they are or not, you're out of hear- 
 ing. But what does your master mean by all this % 
 I overheard them when he was last here ; but never 
 let him look to come again. 
 
 Pan. Not without thee, Bianca. 
 
 Bian. I've had enough of it already — my lady has 
 not given me a good look ever since. 
 
 Pan. Patience, my beloved ! time and patience 
 
 Bian. Will do no good with her. Besides, you men 
 are so inconstant ; if ye had your wish to-day, you'd 
 have another to-morrow. 
 
 Pan. And are not you women the same — as fond 
 of an old sweetheart as a brisk widow of her third 
 husband 1 
 
 Bian. E'en thank yourselves that taught us. 
 
 Pan. Sick of everything but a new face. 
 
 Bian. Your own picture to a hair. 
 
 Pan. And so fickle, fickle, fickle — a man knows 
 not where to have ye. 
 
 Bian. Beshrew me, now, but that's a fib ! where to 
 have you 's the question — once fill your belly, and 
 ye drop off. 
 
 Pan. And there, I must confess, you have the 
 'vantage ; you stick the closer. And perhaps, though 
 I spake too soon, what have we got here 1 
 
 [He strokes her stomacher. 
 
 Bian. Nothing of your's, I'll secure ye. I shall be 
 married a Tuesday next. 
 
 Pan. StiU my good merry girl ! But say he find 
 it? 
 
 Bian. You men think you have all the wit, but I 
 can tell ye some women come two, three, four, and 
 
BELPHEGOR. 325 
 
 sometimes five months sooner than ordinary of the 
 first child ; but for the rest as right as others. You're 
 all for nine months at least, but I have known a 
 nimble fellow not married above eight weeks and his 
 mfe has brought him a couple — and so like the father, 
 too ! 
 
 Pan. Still the same merry rogue 1 
 
 Bian. But hark ye, tho' — where are the books you 
 promised me ? — I can't sleep for thinking of 'em. 
 
 Pan. And thou shalt have them in a day or two. 
 
 Bian. what a dainty thing it is to see a man 
 here to-day and a thousand miles off to-morrow ! — 
 mow giants by the waist, conquer armies, overrun 
 kingdoms, and all for the love of some distressed 
 princess he never saw ; whilst she, poor lady, appre- 
 hending it by instinct, sits bemoaning him in some 
 castle grate, and, if she can borrow so much leisure 
 from her grief, records his doughty deeds to posterity 
 in window cushions and coverlets. 
 
 Pan. And then, when, over the heads of forty or 
 fifty thousand men, all slain by his own hand, he cuts 
 his way to her chamber, ! what sighs, looks, half 
 words, and I know not what ! till, the lord of the 
 castle having reinforced his guards, surprises him ere 
 he can recover Morglay, and from his lady's arms 
 conveys him to a dungeon, where he's fed with no- 
 thing but horse biscuit and puddle water, till, being 
 fortunately released by some enchanter, his friend, he's 
 dropt in an unknown desert, whence, within three 
 days, he becomes master of a great kingdom, and 
 within four more by some private mark proves the 
 rightful heir of 't. 
 
 Bian. There were a man for me ! I hate your sots 
 that turn hermits, and can live seven years together 
 on nuts, blackberries, and acorns. They lovers ! O 
 that I were a man, that I might ha' been a knight ! 
 or, being as I am, some little odd princess. 
 
 Pan. And I have much of thy humour about me ; 
 for never had any man greater desire of wealth and 
 command than myself, and that only to eat well, drink 
 
326 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 lustick,* care for nothing, and have my flatterers as 
 other men. But come, Bianca! though I cannot make 
 thee a princess, I can put thee in the way shall make 
 thee as fine as a princess. Two hundred pistoles 
 would do no hurt, I take it. 
 
 Bian. Ay, marry ! but where's the money 1 
 
 Pan. Thy master now and then lies at his country 
 house, and, do thou but give my master the oppor- 
 tunity of getting into your lady's apartment some 
 such night, and I'll secure it thee. 
 
 Bian. To what purpose ? I'm sure he will do no 
 good. 
 
 Pan. Do thou thy part, he'll venture that; — ^two 
 hundred pistoles is money. 
 
 Bian. And, truly, to speak my heart, I've often 
 wonder' d how she can be so unkind. [She hugs him. 
 
 Pan. Goodnature, thou must ! and, to let thee see 
 he's in earnest, he has sent thee fifty in hand. — [Gives 
 her a purse.'] — Come, come ! there are certain critical 
 minutes when a woman can deny nothing. 
 
 Bian. But shall I be sure of the rest ? 
 
 Pan, If thou hast it not, never trust Pansa more ! 
 
 Bian. Well, then, you speak in a lucky hour, for my 
 master goes out of town to-morrow, and an hundred to 
 one if he return that night. Let your master and you 
 come about midnight, and you'll find the street door 
 unlock'd, and me ready to receive ye. But be sure, 
 now- 
 
 Pan. That thou should'st doubt it ! 
 
 [Exeunt hand in hand. 
 
 * " Lustick, " according to Halliwell and others, means ' * healthy, 
 cheerful, pleasant." The word does not appear as a noun. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 327 
 
 Act iil^Scene i. 
 Of EoDERiGo's House. » 
 
 Enter Crispo and Mingo, wijping their faces. 
 
 Oris. Here's a clutter, with all my heart ! Why, sure, 
 this master of ours is either running mad, or never 
 thinks of returning ! 
 
 Min. Here was a palace as well furnish' d as the 
 Duke's itself — such hangings, pictures, carpets, plate, 
 and everything suitable ; but it seems they were not 
 rich enough ! We're all new from top to bottom ! 
 
 Oris. For my part, my back's almost broke with lug- 
 gaging, and I think thine's not much better. Would 
 'twere her neck that has been the cause of all ! 
 
 Min, Yet what would not a man do that loves his 
 wife-? 
 
 Oris. Commend me to our old home ; we have no 
 wives there. And I've observed here, those that so 
 gild this pill of matrimony, to make it go down the 
 easier, never take it themselves. 
 
 Min. The truth is, neither of us need be fond of the 
 sex. But every one is not our Imperia ! A wife, if 
 you have money, will help to get more. 
 
 Oris. Or rather spend what you have. 
 
 Min. If you're at home, she'll bear you company. 
 
 Oris. Or rather scold ye out of doors. 
 
 Min, If you're abroad 
 
 Oris. Perhaps cuckold ye ere ye come home ! But 
 how now, Mingo, have ye forgot your knitting-needles? 
 
 Min. Nor your trap-door— mere accidents ! 
 
 Oris. I tell thee, brother of mine, a devil of clouts 
 would ha' more wit ; and I'm afraid our master has 
 spoil'd thee. 
 
 Enter Eoderigo. 
 
 Rod. So, so, ye have done well ; ye have done more 
 in a few hours than a dozen lazy blockheads would 
 
328 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 ha' done in a week. Yet, methinks, the rooms might 
 have been better perfum'd ! 
 
 Oris. We reserved that till last. 
 
 Bod. Never the worse ! Is the music come 1 
 
 Min. They only wait your call. 
 
 Rod. Go, then, and be sure everything be in order ! 
 [Exeunt Crispo and Mingo. 
 My wife and I are friends again, and to confirm it 
 I've promis'd her a ball, and can't but laugh to think 
 how she'll be pleased with the preparations I have 
 made for 't. She's but taking the air, and can't be 
 long ere she return. 
 
 Enter Imperia ; she runs to Mm. 
 
 Imp. my dear ! and am not I a good wife, now ? 
 That thou'dst been with us at Duke Doria's garden ! 
 The pretty contest between Art and Nature. 
 To see the wilderness, grots, arbours, ponds, 
 And in the midst, over a stately fountain, 
 The Neptune of the Ligurian Sea, 
 Andrea Dorea, the man who first 
 Taught Genoa not to serve ! Then to behold 
 The curious waterworks and wanton streams 
 Wind here and there, as if they had forgot 
 Their errand to the sea. 
 
 Rod. Thou set'st off this 
 
 So well, I fancy thou'dst design a fairer. 
 
 Imp. Dear husband, try ! And then, again, within 
 That vast prodigious cage, to see the groves 
 Of myrtle, orange, jessamine, beguile 
 The winged choir into a native warble. 
 And pride of their restraint. Then, up and down, 
 An antiquated marble or broken statue, 
 Majestic even in ruin ! 
 
 Rod. It pleases me 
 
 To see thee pleas'd ! 
 
 Imp. And such a glorious palace ! 
 
 Such pictures, carving, furniture ! my words 
 Cannot reach half the splendour. And after all, 
 To see the sea, fond of the goodly sight, 
 
BELPHEGOR. 329 
 
 One while glide amorous and lick her walls, 
 As who would say, Come, follow ! but, repulsed, 
 Eally its whole artillery of waves. 
 And crowd into a storm. But when, my dear. 
 Will ye fancy me such a retirement ? 
 
 Rod. When I, like him that rais'd it, can command 
 The spoils o' th' rifled ocean, thou shalt ! 
 
 Imp. Thou'st ever a fetch for what thou'st no mind 
 to ! How can a woman love ye ? 
 
 Rod. Do but consider ; the house we now live in is 
 little inferior to a palace, and might become my better. 
 
 Imp. A mere hole ! and that so damp, musty, and 
 raw ! 
 
 Rod. You ne'er complain'd of it before. However, 
 fire and perfumes will rectify the air. 
 
 Imp. Yes, to put a woman into fits ! 
 
 Rod. Bating that palace, there's not a house in 
 Genoa better ftirnish'd ! and, for pictures, I dare almost 
 vie Italy ! Come, and I'll show thee ! 
 
 [He offers to lead her out. 
 
 Imp. What, those in the gallery % I saw 'em as I 
 came in : mere sign-post work ! 
 
 Rod. How ! Titian's Yenus sign-post work 1 
 
 Imp. A downright country Joan ! 
 
 Rod. Eaphael's Paris and the three goddesses 1 
 
 Imp. A bumpkin and his milkmaids ! 
 
 Rod. What think'st thou, then, of Guido Rheni's 
 Rape of Lucrece 1 — Michael Angelo's Leda *? — or Cor- 
 regio's Jupiter and Semele 1 
 
 Imp. Enough to make a modest woman look through 
 her fingers ! 
 
 Rod. Would'st thou have nobler actions ? What 
 say'st thou to Carrachio's Perseus and Andromeda % — 
 Pietro Testa's Iphigenia "? — or Mola's Curtius ? 
 
 Imp. What Mr. Dawber pleases. 
 
 Rod. Or, if thou lik'st hunting, there's Tempesta's 
 Acteon ! 
 
 Imp. E'en keep it to yourself ! For my part, I would 
 not put such an afiront on my friends as to have them 
 seen in my house. Pictures, d'ye call 'em ] 
 
330 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Enter Crispo. 
 
 Cris. Sir, the company are now lighting at door ! 
 
 Imp. And why not madam, saucebox % — [She strikes 
 
 i.] — Your servants must disrespect me too ! En- 
 tertain them yourself for me. 
 
 [She is running off; he stops her. 
 
 Rod. Nay, wife, my dear wife ! what will our friends 
 say ? For thy own sake, if not mine, be civil ! 
 
 [She presses to go off. 
 
 Imp. Say what they will, shall I humour a husband 
 that can deny me anything ] You'd as good let me 
 go, or I'll spoil all. Let me go, I say ! 
 
 Rod. Thou shalt have anything. Here, take the 
 keys of all I have, and please thyself! 
 
 [She takes them grumbling. 
 
 Imp. You can make me do what you please, that 
 ye can. 
 
 Rod. I'll wait upon our friends ! 
 
 Enter Persons in masquerade. 
 
 Known or unknown, be pleas'd ! 
 
 [TheT/ seat themselves; music begins. 
 Do but observe this air ! — [to Imperia.] 
 
 [A dance of all but Roderigo and Imperia. 
 Imp. Scraping, you mean ! I'd 've made as good on 
 a gridiron. 
 
 Rod. Softly, my dear ! 
 
 [The dance ends ; they seat again. 
 Imp. And such a stringhalt dance. 
 
 [After a small interval, another music. 
 
 Enter a Boy. 
 He sings. 
 
 Were I to take wife, 
 
 As 'tis for my life. 
 She should be brisk, pleasant, and merry ; 
 
 A lovely fine brown, 
 
 A face all her own. 
 With a lip red and round as a cherry. - 
 
BELPHEGOR. 331 
 
 Not much of the wise, 
 
 Less of the precise, 
 Nor over reserv'd, nor yet flying ; 
 
 Hard breasts, a straight back. 
 
 An eye full and black. 
 But languishing as she were dying. 
 
 And then for her dress, 
 
 Be 't more or be 't less. 
 Not tawdry set out nor yet meanly ; 
 
 And one thing beside, 
 
 Just, just so much pride 
 As may serve to keep honest and cleanly. 
 
 Imp. Whoo — ho — ho — hoo ! here's a voice and a 
 song ! I thank ye. — [A noise within, as of some dishes 
 breaking.] — You'd have you can't tell what ! 
 
 Enter Quartilla. 
 
 Qiia. O madam ! your monkey has got into the next 
 room, and overturn'd all your cupboard of china ! 
 
 [She runs off in a fury. 
 
 Imp. Or I had done 't myself, to spite my Don. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Rod. I beseech ye, gentlemen, let this make no dis- 
 turbance. I hope you'll take share of a short regale ! 
 
 Omnes. Alas, poor Roderigo ! 
 
 [Exeunt maskers; manet Eoderigo. 
 
 Rod. Poor, henpecked devil, they might have said ! 
 The very boys will pelt me ! — [He walks.] — But is this 
 Belphegor? this the once GeneraHssimo ] Yes — \he 
 makes a shrug] — but subjected to all the conditions of 
 humanity; and I must be contented as well as others, 
 at least till I get my keys again ; for, to say truth, my 
 ships are longer out than was expected, and bills come 
 thick upon me. Some of them, too, begin to be im- 
 portunate ! My comfort is, they're three rich cargoes, 
 and any one's return will pay for all. [Exit. 
 
332 belphegor. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Of MoNTALTo's hmse. 
 
 Enter Pansa with a dark lantern, conducting FiESCHi. 
 
 Pan. She's as good as her word ! The door was 
 unlocked ! 
 
 Fies. And I may trust her ? 
 
 Pan. My life ye may ! for she ever made it a matter 
 of conscience to take a gentleman's money and do 
 nothing for 't. 
 
 Enter Bianca. 
 
 Bian. What shall we do, sir 1 Our master's return'd, 
 but in his own apartment. Consider ! 
 
 Fies. It must be, and why not now ? 
 
 Bian. Then follow me close and softly ! and do you, 
 Pansa, stay here till I return. 
 
 [Exeunt Bianca and Fieschi. 
 
 Pan. And if it hits, I'm made ; and who knows but 
 I may marry the jade myself for all her Tuesday next % 
 
 but — but what? To be a cuckold ! And how many 
 are there in the world yet live contentedly % But — 
 your own cuckold — forestal the market — antedate your 
 own fortune ! and what of that % I am not the first 
 has done 't, and sha'n't be the last. This I am sure, 
 
 1 am the less deceiv'd. Whate'er it be, two hundred 
 pistoles and my master's kindness will make amends 
 for all. 
 
 Bianca returns. 
 
 Now, Bianca, I was thinking, what if thou and I should 
 join jiblets in an honourable way ] What think ye of 
 matrimony, Bianca 1 
 
 Bian. No, Pansa, no ! for though I love ye well 
 enough, you shall never twit me with anything of 
 your own knowledge ; but for old acquaintance, I'll 
 recommend ye. She is — — 
 
BELPHEGOR. 333 
 
 PaTL The very mop of modesty ! But what has 
 she? 
 
 Bian. Enough for you, and to spare. The truth is, 
 not above sixteen or seventeen thousand ducats ready 
 money, and as much more after the death of her 
 grannum. But, for virtue ! 
 
 Pan. The Lord knows what ! But say she won't 
 ha' me ? 
 
 BioM. I'll put in a good word for ye. This for your 
 comfort j she'll sip Verdua — ^privately, though — and 
 then, so good-natur'd. 
 
 Pan. That's half the work ; for I never knew the 
 devil at one end but his dam was at t'other. 
 
 \A noise within as of a falling down-stairs. 
 
 Bian. Here, Pansa, here ! — \_Slie pjits Mm in a closet, 
 takes his lantern, and exit by one door. 
 
 ■ Brder Fieschi, running, by another. He falls, and 
 drops his dagger. 
 
 Fies. Where am I ? Blind fortune assist my blinder 
 
 self! [He recovers, and exit hy the door he first came in 
 
 at. BiANCA peeps in with her dark lantern, 
 
 sees tlie dagger, takes it up, and gives loth to 
 
 Pansa, then likewise peeping. 
 
 Bian. There ! bolt the door t'ye, while I look out 
 
 another way. \Exit. 
 
 Enter Montalto loith a case of pistols, in his nightgown, 
 hy the same dom' Fieschi ran in at. 
 
 Mon. The last noise lay this way. Within there, 
 ho ! — [He knocks.'] — What's here ? Methinks I see a 
 faint glimmering of a light within that closet. — [He 
 endeavours to open the door.] — Bolted within, too'? Nay, 
 then ! — [He fires at the doa)% Pansa slips the bolt, glares 
 him in the face with his dark lantern. Mon- 
 talto fires at him and closes with him. Both 
 fall. Pansa stabs him, and by that means 
 gets from him, but not without tlie loss of his 
 dagger. Exit Pansa by the same door as his 
 master. Montalto rises. 
 
334 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Enter Servants, with lights and swords, undressed. 
 
 1 Ser. Thieves, thieves ! Waken my lord ! he may 
 be kiird in's bed. 
 
 2 Ser. Hold ! there he stands ! He bleeds ! A 
 handkerchief, to keep the wound from air ! 
 
 Mon. What needs this noise ? One of ye stay with 
 me, another get me a chirurgeon. 
 
 3 Ser. I run, I run ! \Exit. 
 Mon. The rest look about the house ! 'tis almost 
 
 impossible he should escape. 
 
 3 Servant returns, 
 
 3 Ser. The street door, my lord, is open. 
 
 [He runs off again. 
 Mon. Nay, then, the bird is flown. However, see 
 what servants are wanting or out of bed. That men 
 knew when to put on arms ! 
 
 [1 Servant sees a dagger on the floor, takes it up, 
 and gives it Montalto. He starts. 
 
 1 Ser. Here's some one's bloody dagger. 
 Mon. And I know whose ; I gave it him. 
 
 That was unkind. [He throws it carelessly. 
 
 Enter Portia, in a nightgown. 
 
 Por. My husband bloody ! What have I done, good 
 heaven 1 Now pity me, and press me not with more 
 than I can bear, or give me strength. 
 
 [She staggers ; 1 Servant supports her. 
 Mon. Do not thou stab me too ! 
 
 [Montalto hreahs from the other. 
 'Tis but a scratch, and thy Montalto lives. 
 Stay ! stay, my Portia ! — yet one minute stay. 
 And take me with thee ! 
 
 [He runs to take the dagger ; 2 Servant prevents him. 
 
 2 Ser. She begins to stir, sir ! 
 
 [Montalto runs to her and shakes her. 
 Mon. Eeturn — ^return ! At least but give an eye. 
 And see who calls thee back ! 
 
 Por. My hovering soul 
 
BELPHEGOR. 335 
 
 Was on the wing, and nothing but that voice 
 Had check'd its flight. 
 
 Man. Do not torment thyself ; 
 
 Thou may'st accuse, but canst not alter fate. 
 Heav n, earth, all things have their period. 
 
 Fa)\ But Portia has resolv'd she will be Portia 
 In not surviving you. 
 
 Mon. Eespite till then. 
 
 Ev'ry wound is not mortal ; or, if 'twere, 
 Who comes to his last period dies old. 
 If I've liv'd well, it's enough ; if Ul, too long. 
 Life's measur'd not by years but actions. 
 
 Foi\ But to be thus rent from me ! 
 
 Mon. If I must leave the town, what matter is 't 
 What port I go out at ? or which way I die ? 
 Death has a thousand roads, but all of them 
 Meet at the journey's end ! How happy, then, 
 Is man, that he can neither lose his way 
 Nor pass it twice. 
 
 3 Servant returns. 
 
 3 Ser. The chirurgeons, sir, are coming ! 
 
 Mon. Bring them into the next room ! Come, my 
 dear; I hope there's no danger. However, happen 
 what will, it sha'n't surprise me. [Exeunt. 
 
 Scene hi. 
 
 RoDERiGo's hmse. 
 
 Enter Roderigo, with letters in his hand. 
 
 Rod. 'Tis what I feared ! My Levant merchant 
 taken by the Turks, my Frenchman sunk at sea, my 
 Spaniard lost at dice, and, what's worse, my credit is 
 at stake, my cash in my wife's hand ; and if she prove 
 cross, there's no more to be said — I must break. 
 
336 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 To him Don Hercio. 
 
 Her. I am a gentleman, sir, and the King's no more. 
 
 [He struts. 
 
 Rod. Heaven maintain it, sir. 
 
 Her. Maintain me ! I have an estate somewhere 
 beyond the mountains in my own country, and where 
 a pigeon-house once stood ; which, were it standing, — 
 as it is now fall'n, — well stock'd with pigeons, and 
 removed to Madrid, might be worth to me a brace of 
 thousand maravedis yearly ! 
 
 Rod. That is to say, about twenty shillings Eng- 
 lish. 
 
 Her. Maintain me ! \Cocks and struts. 
 
 Rod. Your pardon, sir. 
 
 Her. Yet think it no dishonour to converse with our 
 Jews in black hats here. Somewhat below me, I must 
 confess, but I am now and then serviceable to 'em, 
 and they thank me. 
 
 Rod. I remember ye, sir. Your commands to me 1 
 
 Her. That's as you please. You are, signior, a man 
 of fortune, which makes them envy you. In short, 
 'tis given out your ships are miscarried ; and now, one 
 taxes this, another that, a third your cattamountain, 
 my relation, your lady ! 
 
 Rod. Alas, poor fool ! must she suffer too 1 
 
 Her. I was once about to have made them eat their 
 words j but prudence, as sometimes it should, inter- 
 pos'd. Upon the whole, if you pay 'em not forty 
 thousand ducats, you'll be arrested ere night. 
 
 Rod. Neither my ships nor that will much affect me. 
 
 Her. The more's my joy. But since they are such 
 scoundrels, name me the man ye do but doubt, and 
 — ^he's dead ! 
 
 Rod. By no means, signior. However, as an ac- 
 knowledgment of your respect, be pleased 
 
 [He gives him a small purse. 
 
 Her. I beseech ye, sir — ^what d'ye mean 1 — nay — 
 [hut takes it.'] — Now could I quarrel you myself in 
 that you dare not trust my honour ; but I can take 
 
BELPHEGOR. 337 
 
 nothing ill from so noble a patron, and when you have 
 any such occasion, let me oblige ye. [Exit. 
 
 Bod. Her relation, he said ! — A worthy one ! And 
 yet it may be true as he says ; and who knows but 
 he might be sent to set me ? My last comfort is, I 
 have cash enough in the house, but the keys of it 
 hang at my wife's girdle. 
 
 Enter Imperia. 
 
 Never more welcome, tho' to unwelcome news ! 
 
 Imp. Your ships, you mean ? 'Tis everywhere ! 
 
 Bod. I'm happy yet in such a partner of my cares ; 
 all will do well again. Lend me thy keys ! 
 
 Imp. For what, I ms' 1 — Your wife, it seems, is not 
 fit to be trusted ? 
 
 Bod. Thou knowest the contrary ; — but I have some 
 bills charged on me that require speedy payment, or 
 they'll be protested ; and then, where am 1 1 
 
 Imp. Ev'n where you please; but keys you get 
 none of me — the fool has more wit. 
 
 Bod. I shall be ruin'd else. 
 
 Imp. Better you than I — she'll pro^dde for one. 
 
 Bod. I have enough to bear forty such losses. 
 
 Imp. Yes, in your great iron chest. Away, you 
 pitiful Don ! — With what face could ye cheat me 
 with a parcel of stones and brickbats instead of coin ? 
 Was this the treiasure — these the doubloons ye talk'd 
 of? 
 
 Bod. I tell thee, woman, 'tis all good silver ; and 
 more gold than the best of thy family thou so much 
 tattlest e'er saw together. 
 
 Imp. My family, gentleman 1 I was finely hope 
 up, when all the pride of Italy courted me, to marry 
 a Tramontane, a beggarly Don, — Don Roderigo 
 Castiliano, the first of his house and the last of his 
 name ! — blot my blood with your damn'd Morisco ! 
 That Moletto face might have forewarn'd me. But 
 alas ! poor me — I loved ! [She puts finger in eye. 
 
 Bod. Thou hast a prince incognito in me. 
 
 Imp. The devil I have ! Ha, ha, ha ! 
 Y 
 
338 BELPHEGGR. 
 
 Bod. Provoke me not, for fear thou find'st me such. 
 
 Imp. And what would my poor pug % I have a 
 charm shall lay ye, good sir devil— a circle shall cool 
 your courage. 
 
 Bod. Give me my keys, I say ! 
 
 Enter a Woman with a bandbox. 
 How now 1 who's this ] 
 
 Imp. Who should she be 1 — my tire-woman ! She 
 brings me knots, gloves, ribbons, points, everything. 
 
 Bod. And now and then a letter in the bottom o' th' 
 box. — [He puts his hand in the box, finds a letter, she 
 snatches it from him, and throws it back ; the tire-woman 
 takes it up, and exit running.] — ^Mighty fine ! And 
 from whom, I pray '? 
 
 Imp. What's that to you? Jealous ! o' my conscience, 
 jealous ! I see a mousled hood, rumpled tippet, or 
 tumbled petticoat would not down with you ! — my 
 Lord Dick or my Lord Tom stick in your stomach. 
 Jealous, my life! jealous! Know, Tramontane, 
 jealousy is the effect of weakness ; whereas he that's 
 virtuous himself believes the same of another. 
 
 Bod. Give me my keys, I say again, and that 
 letter ! or [He takes her by the sleeve. 
 
 Imp. But shall I have 'em again 1 
 
 Bod. Upon my honour, thou shalt ! I'll only take 
 what will serve my present occasion. 
 
 Imp. Shall I indeed. La ? — [She embraces him.] — And 
 will ye never be angry with your wife again 1 
 
 Bod. All, all's forgotten. 
 
 Imp. Well, then, I'll try for once. — [She whips out 
 his sword and beats him about the stage; and as she hears 
 company entering, she drops the sword and takes to her hand- 
 kerchief.] — Murder ! murder ! help ! murder ! 
 
 Enter five or six women. 
 
 Sure all women ha'n't such husbands. 
 
 1 Worn. Now, fie upon him for a villain ! — ^beat 
 his wife 1 
 
 2 Worn. Draw upon a woman 1 
 
BELPHEGOH. 339 
 
 Rod. Do but hear me ! 
 
 3 Wmn. That were wise work indeed. — [Third 
 woman takes up the sword; all fall upon him, 
 and beat him down, and having well pommelled 
 him, they go up to Imperia and exeunt with her, 
 EoDERiGO rises. 
 Omnes. I hope you are not hurt — \to Imperia.] 
 Rod. Nor all men, sure, such wives. What shall I 
 do ? Debts threaten me abroad — my wife's at home ; 
 stay here I cannot, and return I dare not. — \Re 
 walls.'] — ^And live with her ten years, if possible, — 
 that blest parenthesis, if possible ! 
 But yet, to fall thus tamely^ — be outwitted, 
 And by a woman ! By the drowsy Lethe, 
 Cocytus, Acheron, or whatever worse 
 Than fables ever feign'd or fear conceived, 
 I'll make her know me better — make her know 
 What an Italianated devil can do. \He gives a stamp. 
 Ho ! Sacrapant ! Adramelech ! 
 
 Enter Servant with a letter. 
 
 Ser. I am told, sir, it requires no answer. 
 
 [Exit Servant. He reads. 
 Rod. ^'Your house is beset with bailiffs — consult 
 your safety — haste, if you're wise." How I command, 
 how the dull slaves obey ! 
 
 [Another stamp. A hollow voice between the scenes. 
 Voice. What would Belphegor 1 
 Rod. Attend me without ! What shall a poor devil 
 do 1 — but — might not friends take up the matter 1 — 
 yes — and your house beset. I'd come to any terms, 
 but the letter said haste. I have a loophole yet — 
 but never more to maintain my figure. Haste was 
 the word ; but must I leave thee 1 I will yet stand 
 it — men and their wives have quarrell'd and been 
 friends again. — [A noise, as of the clatter of a door, is 
 heard within. He starts, runs his head against 
 the wall, recovers, and exit. 
 They're got into the house. 
 The best of 't is, I have not far to go. 
 
340 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 A street. 
 
 Enter Crispo and Mingo, hy cross doors. They meet, 
 jostle, and lay their hands to their swords. 
 
 Min. Signior Crispo ? Mio multo illustre ! 
 
 \They make their drunken scrapes, and embrace. 
 
 Oris. Min' here Mingo 1 Vostre tres humble. That 
 comrades should know one another no better ! 
 
 Min. And which becomes us least of all others — us, 
 that should unite against the common enemy, mankind. 
 
 Oris. Thou'rt right. And now, that we're pot- 
 valiant, what think'st thou of a frolic 1 
 
 Min. And kill the next we meet. 
 
 Cris. My very thought. A match ! — [They shake 
 " .] — Our master will not hear of our return ; and, 
 if I'm hang'd, 'tis what I would. 
 
 3Iin. And better far than living under the dominion 
 of this superdevilified Imperia. 
 
 Cris. Poor Belphegor ! I have known him somewhat 
 in my time, but now so sotted on her, he's not him- 
 self ; and all this to please her that will be pleased 
 with nothing. 
 
 Min. How one may be mistaken ! I remember, 
 while he courted her, almond-butter would not melt in 
 her mouth — so innocent, she'd have blusht t'ave seen 
 her own hand naked — and a voice so low, she could 
 not hear herself But not three days married, ere, Kke 
 an alarm clock, the house rang of her. 
 
 Cris. I'm sure I bear her marks. Time was I could 
 have bolted through a k^y-hole, cut capers on the 
 point of a needle, giv'n the double somersault on a 
 pin's head, felt no more blows than a sack of wool ; 
 but now she 'as beaten me to mash. 
 
 Min. And made me mere gut-founder' d. And I'm 
 afraid, our master, return when he will, will make but 
 a. ragged accompt of it. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 341 
 
 Cr'is. My only hopes are, he'll be weary in time, and 
 leave her behind him ; for if e'er she come among us 
 below, we break up house for certain. 
 
 Min. A lion, they say, runs from a cock ; and well 
 may the devil from a crowing hen. 
 
 Cris. I am glad to see this amendment, friend 
 Mingo, and hope now you are not so matrimonially 
 inclin'd as once you were. 
 
 3fin. I tell thee, Crispo, I know not what to make 
 of 'em. Some are so skittish, no ground will hold 
 'em ; others so resty, one can bring 'em to nothing ; 
 and others, again, like a rattle at a dog's tail, run 
 where you will and it still follows ye. 
 
 Cris. ^Tien all's done, there's nothing like an honest 
 private friend ; and, between ourselves, I have such a 
 piece. 
 
 3Iin. As mine, I warrant ye — so loving ! 
 
 Cris. So careful of her honour, yet so obliging ! 
 
 Min. As if I did not know your old Flora — a mere 
 rag of a jade ; I wonder thou durst venture on her, 
 for fear of navel-gauHng. 
 
 . Cris. And, I think, you have not much reason to 
 brag of your greasy tripe- wife. For my part, I hate 
 bog-trotting, 
 
 Min. What need this reservedness among friends ] 
 Upon honour now — who shall say first ? 
 
 Cris. And wound reputation ! — fie ! 
 
 Enter Marone and a large Watch. Crispo and 
 MmGO run; the Watcb. follow. 
 
 Mar. You may believe, neighbours, there's some- 
 what more than ordinary that I am here in person. 
 Every man would not have done 't. But see, who are 
 those fellows running there 1 — follow, follow ! There 
 is a dangerous plot now brewing, and I know who has 
 a finger in it up to the elbow. Follow — follow 'em ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
34:2 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Scene v. 
 
 Enter Mattheo and Eoderigo as in a vineyard; 
 Mattheo a s^ade in his hand. 
 
 Mat. I have heard of your quality and great losses 
 — ^but your wife, say you ? Alas, poor gentleman ! I 
 lost mine about a month since, and, tho' I have no 
 great reason to brag, find a niiss of her. 
 
 Bod. I'll change with ye — :my living wife for your 
 dead wife. 
 
 Mat. Not too much of that neither — ^I had one 
 before, and she was well enough. But this last ! — 
 such a^— 111 tread lightly on her grave, forfear she 
 
 Bod. And what difference found ye between a good 
 wife and a bad one 1 
 
 Mat. I said not she was good, but well enough ; 
 tho' I think the difference be much the same as 
 between a wild rabbit and a tame rabbit. However, 
 at last I found the way of beating the devil out of 
 mine. 
 
 Bod. And I should ha' thought there was more 
 danger of beating him in. But, sir, you don't con- 
 sider the catchpoles ; they follow upon a fresh scent. 
 Do but preserve me from Jem, I'll make ye a man for 
 ever. 
 
 Mat. Nor shall you repent the putting yourself 
 under my protection. Look ye, sir^[j3e takes him to 
 the scenes.] — You see those parings of vines ! creep 
 under them, and I'll cover ye up. — [Eoderigo creeps^ 
 IVIattheo covers him.] — -When they are gone, I'll give 
 you notice. A handsome fellow, and wears good 
 clothes ! If it miscarry, I have little to lose ; and if 
 it succeed, I'm made for ever. 
 
 Enter OmCERS; tJiey heat about. 
 
 Pray, gentlemen, don't trample my vines. Who are 
 ye? 
 
BELPHEGOR. 343 
 
 1 Off. We are the State's officers, in quest of a 
 gentleman we are sure took this road. 
 
 2 Off. And cannot be far behind him. At your 
 peril be it if you conceal him. 
 
 Mat. My house is open to ye* 
 
 3 Officer enters ; Mattheo digs. 
 
 1 Off. Prithee be honest to us, and thou shalt snack. 
 
 2 Off. We can afford him forty ducats — and that's 
 more than thou'lt get in haste by digging. 
 
 Mat. Forty ducats, gentlemen, would do me a 
 kindness. 
 
 1 Off. And if we take him I'll be thy paymaster — 
 I'm sure thou knowest me — and I'll be true to thee. 
 
 \He gives his hand. 
 
 Mat. Signior Bricone, if I mistake not ? 
 
 1 Off. Thou hast me right, and therefore doubt not 
 thy money. 
 
 Mat. Well, then, he is 
 
 [Mattheo describes Eoderigo's person and clothes. 
 
 2 Off. The same — and if he's about thy house, show 
 him us, and here's thy money down. 
 
 [He pulls out a hag. Third officer returns. 
 ■ 3 Off. There's nothing within ! 
 
 Mat. I rather wish he were ; but d'ye see that blind 
 road, on the left hand of my vineyard as ye came ? 
 
 1 Off. And were I to have fled for my life, I'd have 
 taken 't myself. 
 
 Mat. There did I see such a person, and one other 
 with him, ride by about an hour since. And now I 
 better consider on 't, he was the great merchant that 
 lost some ships t'other day. 
 
 Omnes. The same, the same ! — ^to horse, to horse ! 
 
 Mat. Ride hard, and ye can't but overtake him. 
 
 \Exeunt Officers, nmm'w^. 
 They're gone, and Eoderigo's wishes follow 'em. He 
 told me he'd make me a man for ever, and I hope 
 he'll be as good as his word, and not lick himself 
 whole again by non-performance. Ho, Signior ! the 
 coast is clear ; you may advance. 
 
344 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Enter Roderigo, stalking and looking about him. 
 
 Rod. I fancy I hear them still — hark ! what was 
 that ? 
 
 Mat. Nothing but the wind among the leaves. I 
 have perform'd my promise, and you're safe, tho', if 
 you overheard us, — as you needs must, — to my disad- 
 vantage. 
 
 Rod. I did, and doubly thank you ; nor shall it ever 
 be said that I forgot mine. But first, 'tis requisite 
 that you understand my condition. Know, then, I am 
 not what I appear to you — but, in few words, a very 
 devil. 
 
 Mat. A devil ! — [Mattheo starts\ — and afraid of 
 bailiffs ? 
 
 Bod. Yet so it is. I was sent to earth by special 
 command, subject, nevertheless, to all the conditions 
 of humanity, but more particularly oblig'd to marry a 
 wife. 
 
 Mat. Keep your wife to yourself; I have no mind 
 to cuckold the devil. 
 
 Bod. And now, what with her insulting, peevish 
 humour, my losses at sea, my correspondence failing, 
 and creditors pressing, you see to what condition I'm 
 brought. 
 
 Mat. Is't come to this 1 The sham won't pass on 
 me. Come, come — uncase ! — [Mattheo goes about to 
 strip him.] — A man for ever ! A devil would ha' been 
 more honest. 
 
 Bod. Have but a minute's patience, and if I don't 
 convince you of what I told ye, and you don't find me 
 the most ingenuous, grateful, and as gentleman-like a 
 devil as you could wish, I am contented you deliver 
 me up to my creditors. And, without your consent, 
 part from ye I will not. 
 
 Mat. 'Tis civil, tho'. [Eoderigo gives a stamp. 
 
 Bod. Ho ! Sacrapant, Adrameleck, Paganuccio, 
 Fortibrand ! — [Music is heard, spirits rise ; they dance 
 an antic about Mattheo, and exeunt, Mattheo all the 
 while trembling.] — Fear nothing ! they sha'n't hurt ye. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 345 
 
 Mat Fear nothing, said ye ? I'm not yet secure 
 but my soul may slip out at the wrong end. 
 
 Bed. I've shown you what I am ; and now consider, 
 what devil of a thousand would not such circum- 
 stances have tried % But to my promise ! — [A noise 
 ivithin ; he starts.] — Huisht, huisht ! — My wife ! — that 
 wife, whom now I dread more than ere I doated on 
 her. 
 
 3Iat. A tittle-tattle of mine ; I know her voice ! 
 
 Mod. My promise, I was saying. You know the 
 Lady Ambrosia ? 
 
 Mat. And what of her ? She's rich ; and do you 
 but make a match for me there, I'll release you your 
 promise. 
 
 Hod. I am no go-between ; but this I'll do — as soon 
 as I leave this place I'll instantly possess her, and, on 
 the faith of an oblig'd devil, will never leave her till 
 you come and force me from my quarters. And so, 
 you know how to make the terms. 
 
 Mat. But which way must I go about it ? 
 
 Bod. Sputter anything, and that shall do't ; and 
 besides, good brisk nonsense, with a little balderdash, 
 and the gravity of a graduated goose to set it off, will 
 give ye the vogue among the greater number, who, 
 like Socrates' children, take more after the mother 
 than the father. 
 
 Mat. My noble patron, I see you are in earnest ; 
 and, because you and I must be better acquainted, 
 your name, I beseech ye, and quality in the other 
 world 1 
 
 Bod. Belphegor, Generalissimo of the Subterranean 
 Forces; but this condition of humanity has so dis- 
 compos'd me, that I'm asham'd to own what I was. 
 
 3fat. Generalissimo ! A friend at court may, if he 
 please, stand a man in stead. But pray, sir, what do 
 ye do below 1 
 
 Rod. Much after the rate ye do here — ever speak- 
 ing well of ourselves and ill of others. And for 
 friendship, as we profess not much, for what we do 
 we observe it as little as yourselves. 
 
346 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 A wise people ! But how do men get thither? 
 Have ye no standing porters to attend the service ? 
 
 i^od By no means I no man comes thither but of 
 himself, or his wife's sending. I won't deny but 
 when a devil meets a man with his skates on he may 
 give him a push forward. But, I'm uneasy ! 
 
 [He looks over his shoulder. 
 
 Mat There's no danger. What kind of people are 
 ye? 
 
 Bod. A hotch-potch of all tongues, nations, and 
 languages. We speak the Lingua Franca, keep open 
 house, and never shut our gates to any that had 
 either wit or money ; and that's the reason we have so 
 many wits and usurers among us. 
 
 Mat And no women? — for, notwithstanding all, I 
 am no profess' d enemy to the sex. 
 
 Eod, They're the best customers we have; they 
 seldom come alone with their own lading. Some 
 bring more, some less ; not one in ten without a liver 
 and a gizzard— two friends at least, besides followers. 
 
 Mat But have ye no divines, physicians, lawyers ? 
 What have ye? 
 
 Bod. Of that, when we meet next. 
 
 Mat And you'll forget, you will. 
 
 Bod. Upon parole, I won't. — [They shake hands.'] — 
 With this further — whenever you hear of any lady 
 possess'd, be sure it is your humble servant, and no 
 other. [Exeunt severally. 
 
 Act IV. — Scene i. 
 
 Of EoDERiGo's house. 
 
 Enter Imperia, Quartilla, and Scintilla. 
 
 Imp. Our gentleman, it seems, is gone to take the 
 
 air, and I can look about me now, without asking leave. 
 
 Quar. He took so little with him, I wonder we hear 
 
BELPHEGOR. 347 
 
 nothing of him ; his proud spirit •will come down in 
 time. 
 
 Scin. But to run away in such a hurry ! 
 
 Imp. That last note I sent him did the business. 
 
 Scin. What made a gentleman of his wealth and 
 credit go off so soon ? 
 
 Imp. I was privy to none of his actions ; however, 
 so foresaw it as to secure his estate to myself 
 
 Scin. And with your ladyship's leave, are you not 
 bound in honour to set him up again ? 
 
 Quar. If I thought he might not be troublesome, I'd 
 persuade my lady to take him home again, and keep 
 him in pocket money, for her own credit. 
 
 Imp. No, no ! I'd better remove privately, and secure 
 what I have ; and that the rather, for if ever I heard 
 anything in my life, I heard his tread in my chamber 
 last night. 
 
 Scin. So have I fancied a man in bed with me, but 
 when all came to all, 'twas nothing but a nightmare. 
 However, madam, remove where you will, a man is 
 some credit to a house, and ours, methinks, seems 
 naked without him. 
 
 Quar. These girls never consider ; we should have 
 him rummaging the next bandbox again. 
 
 Imp. Oh, thou rememb'rest me! — [She takes out a 
 letter hroJcen open. Reads.'] — " Terrachina ! The thousand 
 crowns I formerly presented your ladyship emboldens 
 me" — ha, ha, ha ! my Lord Lack-land! There! — 
 [She throws away the letter.'] — Tell her that brought it I 
 have forgot the token, and he must send it again, or 't 
 won't do. [QuARTiLLA takes up the letter. 
 
 Quar. Now, out upon him ! Had he the impudence 
 to believe other 1 No, madam, you have it seven years 
 yet good to take; and after that, you may truck, 
 barter, or, at worst, give. 
 
 Enter Fieschi. Imperia hecJcons them off. Exeunt 
 QuARTiLLA and Scintilla. 
 
 Imp. Ye may keep within call. And now, Fieschi, 
 we have no more excuses, sure ? And how 1 — was my 
 
348 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 sister complaisant ? Has good nature yet brought her 
 about 1 
 
 Fies. Judge of me as you think I deserve. I had 
 found all open approaches as troublesome as fruitless, 
 and therefore resolv'd on stratagem. To this purpose, 
 I folio w'd the hint you gave me, and engag'd her 
 woman to give me the opportunity of getting into her 
 apartment, which not many nights since I attempted ; 
 and, tho' no one knew the house better than myself, 
 yet being in the dark, it was my misfortune to mis- 
 take his apartment for hers. Montalto heard me, and 
 sprang out ! I, as well I might, fled, and by another 
 mistake fell down-stairs ; he pursu'd ! I recover'd the 
 fall, and got off. 
 
 Imj). As, to give ye your due, you had ever the dis- 
 cretion to save one. 
 
 Fies. I thank your ladyship ! In short, my servant, 
 endeavouring to make up with me, engaged Montalto, 
 wounded him, and got off himself; and, I know not 
 by what accident, is since taken, or you might have 
 been sure I'd waited on you sooner. 
 
 Imp. Would thou wer't in his room ! A pretty 
 story ! — and I believe 't 1 No, thou silly nothing ! 
 'Twas thou that hired'st thy servant to kill Montalto, 
 to make room for thyself You were there"? — The 
 same was I. I've heard the story — a mere invention of 
 your own, to excuse yourself and cheat me. 
 
 Fies. You do me wrong; that my design miscarried 
 is not my fault ! 
 
 Imp. You might have laid it better ! 
 Did I command ye to a night adventure ? 
 I bid ye murder ? No ; my spotless honour 
 Cannot be blasted by a villain's tongue ! 
 Send me the jewels and the gold I lent ye, 
 Or you will rue the time that I send for 'em ! 
 And so, as far as honour, still command me ; 
 Further than that, your humble servant ! 
 
 [Exit Imperia. 
 
 Fies. Hey day ! — perfidious woman ! and I the fool, 
 To think there ever was or could be other. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 349 
 
 How, like Egyptian temples, do they at distance 
 Strike reverence and admiration ! 
 How beautiful ! how glorious ! Approach 'em, 
 And view the god — you find a cat, or ape, 
 A weeping crocodile, or perhaps a goat ! 
 Forgive me, virtue, but a just revenge. 
 And I'll abjure — that fair defect of nature — 
 The very sex, and never think on 't more. 
 But as men do of debts and sins, to curse 'em ! 
 
 [Stamps. 
 And now for that revenge. My servant's in hold, 
 and I know not how soon it may be my turn, but 
 that I think him honest, and Montalto, as 'tis said, 
 in no great danger. Help me, invention ! 
 
 Enter Quartilla, 
 
 I have it ! 
 
 Qiia. I thought my lady had call'd ; however, I am 
 glad to see your worship so well. I have often tasted 
 of your bounty, and would be glad it were in my 
 power to deserve it. 
 
 Fies. Thou hast an honest face, and I ever found 
 thee trusty. 
 
 Qua. And shall, I hope, continue so. And for my 
 face, 'tis all as you see ! — let them be beholden to 
 slops that want 'em. 
 
 Fies. Nay, there is somewhat in it; for Signior 
 Guido is so concerned for thee, thou'lt scarce believe 
 it. 
 
 Qua. Indeed, sir ! I am beholden to him for his 
 well- wishes ! 
 
 Fies. ^Vhat wilt thou say, now, if I make it a match 
 between ye ? 
 
 Qua. Ha — ha — ha ! But how shall we live together'? 
 
 Fies. He has an hundred ways of getting money, 
 only, Hke other men, an hundred and fifty of spend- 
 ing it, besides drinking ; but a wife will take him off 
 that. 
 
 Qua. And a -discreet woman will bear with a small 
 fault. 
 
350 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Fies. Well, then, there is a small job which thou 
 may'st and canst, if thou wilt, do for me ; and that 
 once done, let me alone for thine. 
 
 [He chucks her under the chin. 
 
 Qua. And if I don't, never trust woman again, for 
 my sake. 
 
 Fies. Your lady— but thou'lt laugh — and I are all 
 to pieces. 
 
 Qua. Marry forbid it ! Why, I have known ye play 
 together like two kittens, and as often told ye playing 
 commonly ended in earnest. If that be all, I bring ye 
 together again, and she'll love ye the better. 
 
 Fies. To move it to her were to set her the farther 
 oif. But thus — tell her there's an outlandish prince 
 new come to town, and that he's so enamour'd of her 
 that he intends her a rich damask bed and cupboard 
 of plate, which he'll send in to-morrow, and wait on 
 her himself at night ! Now, this prince will I per- 
 sonate ; let me alone for the disguise. 
 
 Qua. Impossible ! She stands upon her honour ! 
 She receive a night visit, from a stranger, and by her 
 own consent % Besides, your tongue will betray ye. 
 
 Fies. Tell her the prince understands no Italian, 
 and therefore she need not speak to him, nor take 
 more notice of him than if he were her husband. 
 And we shall have such laughing next morning. 
 Come, thou must ! [He gives her money. 
 
 Qua. What contrivances you men have to betray 
 poor women ! Well, then, if you'll run the hazard, 
 send in your present to-morrow, and come yourself 
 at midnight; because we are to remove in a day or 
 two, for she fancies the house is haunted. 
 
 Fies. I'll venture that too ! only do thou thy part. 
 
 Qua. You are resolved, and be it so ; in the mean 
 time you shall see how I'll work her — we women 
 can do much together. But I'd almost forgot — what's 
 your prince's name ? 
 
 Fies. II Principi Polacco ! 
 
 Qua. Then say, and hold Polacco. You'll find me 
 ready ! [Exit Qtjartilla. 
 
BELPHEGOK. 351 
 
 Fies. "What fools a man must sometimes be beholden 
 to ! And if I am not even with her ladyship, I'll 
 forgive her. That once over, I will endeavour, by some 
 worthy action, to expiate my past folly ! [Exit. 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 Of EoDERiGo's House. 
 
 Enter Marone, Imperia, and Quartilla. 
 
 Imp. 'Twas a sad accident, and, I fear me, more 
 than a bare chance ! I hear you took th' examina- 
 tions 1 
 
 3Iar. The friendship, madam, I ever ow'd your 
 husband might have commanded more; the rest 
 Signior Grimaldi has appointed to be taken here ! 
 
 Imp. And what d' ye think 1 — was my poor sister 1 
 I love her with my soul ! — Is there anything reaches 
 her ? 
 
 Mar. Directly nothing, but a single uncertain evi- 
 dence — her servant Bianca. Tho', to deal freely with 
 ye, I suspect it ; men of my station can see day at a 
 little hole — letters make words, and circumstances 
 things ! 
 
 Imp. Alas ! alas ! tho' yet my private thoughts 
 don't contradict ye. What would she have done had 
 she had my beast 1 But he was my husband, and, the 
 more unfortunate me, I lov'd him ! But pray, what 
 ground have ye 1 
 
 Mar. Enough, if not too much ! Montalto's estate — 
 however, it went in my name — was dipped in the bank 
 for thirty thousand ducats; Fieschi pays the money; 
 his servant gave Montalto his wound ; and whether 
 your sister and Fieschi were absolute strangers, I 
 leave it to your ladyship. 
 
 Imp. 1 am afraid y'ave gone too deep ! 
 
 Mar. I'll not give a rush for that man that cannot 
 pick anything out of nothing — at least bring it in by 
 
352 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 an innuendo ! Men of business, madam, are not so 
 much to seek as the world takes them. 
 
 Imp. And, truly — I tremble while I speak it — I 
 wish there was no design of taking off a husband, to 
 make room for a gallant ! 
 
 Mar. My conscience tells me y'ave hit the nail ! 
 
 Im]). And shall I own that sister % Virtue forbid 
 it! 
 
 Enter Grimaldi and Portia. 
 
 Grim. According to my appointment, I am come ! 
 yet thought it not altogether unfit that this lady, who 
 is most concern'd, should hear the matter. 
 
 Mar. And pray, sir, how goes it with our friend 
 Montalto ^ Is there no hope % 
 
 Grim. Yes, truly; and, as far as I conjecture, the 
 greatest danger of his wound lies in the chirurgeon's 
 hard words. All of them agree it fortunately slanted 
 on a rib. 
 
 For. This worthy person inform'd me it was his 
 desire the examinations might be taken here, which 
 made me willing to come myself 
 
 Imp. And that, perhaps, too soon for somebody's 
 credit ! 
 
 For. Whose e'er it be, I can hear it with more 
 grief than trouble. 
 
 Imp. Peradventure your own, or some one's else — 
 who knows % 
 
 Grim. I beseech you, madam — \to Imperia.] — What 
 mean ye ? 
 
 For. How ill this had become another ! 
 
 Imp. If any modest woman might have resented an 
 husband's injuries, I ought not to have sat down with 
 Eoderigo's to me ; but when I consider'd he was my 
 husband, that name soon covered all ; I pray'd no 
 gallant's aid ! 
 
 Grim. What's here 1 — ^The devil washing his face ! 
 woman ! what can'st thou not ? [Aside. 
 
 For. What virtuous woman ever did 1 
 
 Imp. EecoUect yourself; I never doubted your wit ! 
 
BELPHEGOR. 35S 
 
 For. Add patience to my innocence, good heaven I 
 
 Grim. No more, I beseech ye ! and pray, sir, how 
 d'ye find it % 
 
 Mar. I met a person t'other night incognito, whom, 
 not giving me a good account of himself, I committed: 
 he's now without. 
 
 Grim. And being informed that Bianca was found 
 in her clothes at that late hour when this accident 
 happen'd, I thought fit to examine her; and all I 
 could get from her was, there were other-guise per- 
 sons concern'd than thieves. I sent her t'ye. 
 
 Mar. The same she says to me, and more. She's 
 without too ! 
 
 Grim. Let's have her in ! 
 
 Mar. "Within, there ! bring in Bianca ! But were 't 
 not convenient that Portia withdrew ? 
 
 An Officer enters, and exit again. 
 For. She can say nothing shall shame me to her. 
 
 Returns with Bianca. 
 
 Grim. Now, Bianca, you remember what you've said? 
 Who were those other-guise persons % 
 
 Bian. My lady will be angry ! 
 
 Pot. Speak boldly, woman! Let truth come out, 
 tho' I perish ! 
 
 Bian. Fieschi and my lady had made an assig- 
 nation, and I was privy to it. But it seems my 
 master, sitting up later than ordinary, and Fieschi 
 making some noise, my master rushed upon him, and 
 in the scufile receiv'd that wound from him. 
 
 Chrim. Fieschi ! I'll cut him from my blood ! 
 
 Imp. My sister ! Her virtue, sure, knew better 
 things ! 
 
 Pot. And does, Imperia ! My innocence is above 
 scandal. 
 
 Grim. And no one with him but himself? 
 
 Bian. Not that I saw or heard. 
 
 Mar. Take her back again ! 
 
 {Exeunt OFFICERS with Bianca. 
 
354 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 The other, perhaps, may tell you more; I've kept 
 them asunder, and neither knows of the other's being 
 apprehended. 
 
 Grim. It was discreetly manag'd; bring him in, 
 Fieschi ! — Villain ! Whom shall a man put faith in ? 
 
 Enter, ly another door, an Officer with Pansa. 
 
 His servant, too ! What mischief, sirrah, have your 
 master and you been contriving '? 
 
 Pan. None, I yet hope ; however, come what will 
 of me, I will declare the truth ! About three nights 
 since, Bianca and I had appointed a meeting at her 
 master's house. When stealing by his apartment, it 
 was my misfortune to make a stumble ; he hears me 
 — I fled I he pursued— I got into a closet ; he sees a 
 glimpse of my lantern and fires thro' it — I got out 
 and glar'd him in the face ; he fires a second pistol 
 and closed with me, and having no other possibility 
 of escaping, I was forc'd to that unfortunate stab, which 
 yet I put not so home but that he wrench'd my 
 dagger from me. 
 
 Grim. This agrees word for word with what Montalto 
 told me. I wish, tho', I could have seen the dagger ! 
 
 Pan. It was my master's, who having left it care- 
 lessly on his table, and I, considering there might be 
 danger in the streets, put it in my pocket, and with 
 that dagger made the blow ! 
 
 Imjp. Where was your master 1 
 
 Pan. Had he been there, it is not to be thought I'd 
 take another's guilt upon myself ! 
 
 Grim. This cloud will break by degrees, and I am 
 glad we're got so far into 't. Take off" your prisoner ! 
 
 Mar. Or rather, confront him with Bianca ! 
 
 Grim. Well thought of ; bring her in again ! — [She 
 is brought in again.] — You said ere while that you saw 
 no one but Fieschi; and Pansa says 'twas himself 
 only, and that by appointment between you two. 
 
 Pan. By this token, that she, hearing the noise, put 
 me into the closet, and bade me bolt it on the inside. 
 
 [Bianca stutters. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 355 
 
 Bian. If th'ast a mind to hang thyself, do. Yes, he 
 was there, and I believe with a design of robbing the 
 house ! 
 
 Grim. Prithee, speak truth ! Whoever was there, 
 did your lady know anything of it 1 
 
 [She stands confused; at last kneels, 
 
 Bian. Good madam, forgive me ; you're innocent 1 
 
 [She howls. 
 
 Grim. Take them away, and keep them severally ! 
 [Exeunt Officers, with the prisoners. 
 
 For. And now, sister, judge favourably of me — 
 Poor me, whom nothing but a quiet conscience 
 Had kept from sinking. This is the true joy. 
 And this we give ourselves — this makes us bear 
 A mind above our sex. Fortune may clear 
 The visage ; only this can fill the soul ! 
 
 Mar. Your servant, sir ! and occasion offers I'll wait 
 on ye. [Exeunt Grimaldi, leading Portia, hy one 
 
 door, Marone and Imperia by another, 
 Manet Quartilla. 
 
 Qua. And now, when all's done, Fieschi for my 
 money ! He's scarce half rid of a surfeit and yet 
 vent'ring on the same dish again. He has a passion 
 for her, that's certain ; or otherwise, a love fit at this 
 time were inexcusable ! Well, his present is sent in, 
 and that so noble, I am afraid he does not intend to 
 come often. 
 
 Imperia re-enters. 
 
 Imp. What's all that luggage in the other room 1 
 
 Qua. A damask bed, with massy fringe and every- 
 thing suitable ! — besides a rich cupboard of plate ! — 
 and no other name for 't but luggage. I wish your 
 ladyship had such another to-morrow, we'd find it 
 house-room. 
 
 Lnp. I must confess it noble ; but whence came it ? 
 
 Qua. No Terrachino, I dare warrant ye. It is the 
 humble present of the outlandish Prince new come 
 to town, II Signior Principi Polacco ; your ladyship 
 understands the rest. But did ye know how I en- 
 
356 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 hanc'd the affair, — husband, relations, reputation, 
 honour, and to all this your utter averseness, — ^you'd 
 say I was no fool ! 
 
 Imp. Is he handsome 1 
 
 Qua. What matters that 1 — ^his present is. However, 
 to satisfy ye, he's as handsome a man as the best of 
 us need wish to lie boa,rd and board by ', for my part, 
 I could sink by his side. 
 
 Imp. When will he be here % 
 
 Qua. At midnight, and you'll be asleep ! 
 
 Imp. But to a man I never saw ! — how shall I look 
 next morning ? 
 
 Qua. Just as you did before ; or, you may, if you 
 think fit, cry out your women has betray'd ye ; nobody 
 will hear ye ! Tlio' yet, if ye should, he understands 
 no Italian. 
 
 Imp. Thou shalt supply my place — all petticoats 
 are sisters in the dark. 
 
 Qua. I would it were not to wrong your ladyship. 
 Come, madam, no more words ! do you but leave him 
 one side of your bed, he'll find the rest himself 
 
 Imp. Well, we'll further consider it within. 
 
 [Exeunt 
 
 Scene hi. 
 
 The Vineyard. 
 
 Enter Mattheo, solus, in a Hack velvet coat; a tipped 
 
 cane; turning up his moustaches, strutting, and 
 
 viewing himself. 
 
 It is the same ! of a better edition, tho' ; and truly, 
 to give the devil his due, he has shown himself much 
 a gentleman, which is more than I'll say of every 
 man. I have already dislodg'd him from two great 
 ladies ; and if it holds but one year, how shall I dis- 
 pose of this good fortune ? My boy — an arrant crack- 
 rope, father's own son — I'll breed him to my own new 
 
BELPHEGOR. 357 
 
 trade, and send him abroad to take his degree ! My 
 daughter — let me see, she shall marry some count or 
 other ! 
 
 Enter Grimaldi. 
 
 But hold ! who knows but here may be another 
 customer? and if so, I must stand off, to raise the 
 price. [Aside. 
 
 Grim. Our duke, sir, is so well assured of your more 
 than ordinary faculty at exorcism, that the Lady 
 Julia, a niece of ours, being at this time a demoniac, 
 he sent me to pray your help, and further assure you 
 of as large a reward as yourself could wish, or the 
 obliging a prince may merit ! 
 
 [Mattheo puts on a starched gravity. 
 
 Mat. I shall be proud, signior, if my poor talent 
 might contribute anything to his serenity's or your 
 service. How far have you proceeded 1 
 
 Grim. Tried all that religion or physic could pro- 
 pose ! 
 
 Mat. Have ye erected a scheme to know under 
 what direction the lady lies, and what kind of devil 
 it is that possesses her % 
 
 Grim. I think not ! 
 
 Mat. The reason I ask ye is, because there are 
 diversities of devils, — some so easy, gentle, quiet, ye 
 may do what ye will with 'em ; others, again, so 
 sullen, refractory, cross-grain'd, that neither threats, 
 enchantments, nor devotion itself will do any good 
 on 'em. 
 
 Grim. I leave it wholly to ye ! 
 
 Mat. Then the first thing I'll do shall be to erect 
 one, both as to the horary question and the matter 
 itself j and, when I've done that, I'll make a step 
 to the lady as incognito, and give ye my judgment 
 of it. 
 
 Grim. And credit me, it shall be gratefully acknow- 
 ledg'd ! [Exit. 
 
 Mat. So, so, here's more money coming ! A count, 
 did I say 1 we'll better consider it. 
 
358 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Enter Eoderigo hehind Mm, and gives him a 
 tap on the shoulder. 
 
 Thy fist, my Mephistopliiles ! And what 1 — ^thou'st 
 left the Lady Julia asleep to see a friend ? 
 
 Rod. Thyself, thou mean'st ; but how cam'st thou 
 to know it % 
 
 Mat You see how I improve by your acquaintance ; 
 'twas kindly done. And now your parole; what sort 
 of people have ye in the other world % 
 
 Rod. Whatnots 
 
 Mat. Have ye any divines among ye ? 
 
 Rod. Why, truly, we were once afraid of 'em, and 
 were ever and anon making laws against 'em ; 'till at 
 last, finding we were more afraid than hurt, we left 
 them at their liberty to come or go. But for the school- 
 men, we ever shackle them, for fear they make as 
 much disturbance there as they have already done 
 here. 
 
 Mat. Any physicians 1 
 
 Rod. And they, too, for several years together, had 
 sent us so many on their errand that we grew jealous 
 of them, as that they design'd a party; till, coming to 
 a better understanding, we have ever since not denied 
 'em house-room, for past services. 
 
 Mat. Any lawyers % 
 
 Rod. What should they do there ? The poor devils 
 have no money, and the rich will part with none, and 
 yet we want not their company too ; but alas ! let 
 'em get what estate soever here, they bring not a 
 groat with 'em, as not doubting but to raise another 
 among us ; but there the case is alter'd. 
 
 Mat. Have ye any poets ? 
 
 Rod. Of pretenders, not the least number. And 
 even there, too, some few who, regarding glory more 
 than profit, in studying to divert others, slipped their 
 opportunities and lost themselves. 
 
 Mat. Have you any philosophers '? 
 
 Rod. What — they sell hawks' bells and rattles ] 
 
 Mat. The same. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 359 
 
 Rod. We are with them like Rome of old with their 
 figure-slingers, ever banishing 'em but never rid of 
 'em ; however, we reckon them among the virtuosi 
 
 Mat. What are those virtuosi ? 
 
 Rod. They study nature — as why a fly should have 
 six legs, and a dromedary but four ; why a cat when 
 she's pleas'd holds her tail on end, and a dog wags 
 his ; why crabs go backward, and the like. 
 
 Mat. And very useful inquiries. What painters 
 have ye % 
 
 Rod. The truth is, we had once banished 'em for 
 painting us more ugly than we are, till Michael 
 Angelo's Day of Judgment complimented us with a 
 Master of the Ceremonies ; and Parmasano and Car- 
 rachi with their improvements upon Aretine, — pieces, 
 I assure ye, of as much service to us, as their others 
 of devotion had like to have done us mischief. 
 
 Mat. But what becomes of tyrants and others, those 
 common pests of mankind — a sort of men we read of 
 in old story, though I think the race be wholly run 
 out now % 
 
 Rod. 'Twould make ye laugh to see 'em, — one 
 cobbling of old shoes ; another heeling of stockings ; 
 a third rubbing the sweat in hothouses. 
 
 Mat. Have ye the pox there too 1 
 
 Rod. Millions of millions; for they that bring it 
 not with them are sure to get it on their first landing. 
 
 Mat. Well, thou'rt a merry devil, and I must say 
 an honest devil. But hark ye, I must beat up your 
 quarters once more. 
 
 Phod. What % — never have done % 
 
 Mat. You know I deliver'd ye from the talons of 
 the law, and then you told me what a grateful gentle- 
 man devil you'd prove. Prithee, oblige me this once, 
 in quitting the Lady Julia, and I release thee of all 
 demands whatever. 
 
 Rod. And I have paid ye sufiiciently. 
 
 Mat. But I'm concern'd in this beyond a retreat. 
 Prithee this once, or I must say too thou art not that 
 grateful devil I expected. 
 
360 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Bod. How, sirrah ! — tax me with ingratitude ? 
 Have ye forgot 'twas I that made your fortune 1 — I 
 that gave ye the occasion of that aphorismatical cane, 
 and reform'd your greasy chamois into silks and 
 satins ? And are ye now grown insolent % I'll make 
 ye know I can take back as well as give ; or other- 
 wise, call me the most pitiful, poor-spirited rascal of a 
 devil. 
 
 Mat Nay, let's not part in anger. A word with ye. 
 
 Rod. As many words as you please ; but no more 
 stark love and kindness. 
 
 [They whisper. Mattheo takes him by the collar. 
 
 Mat. Now, sirrah, too ; and since nothing else will 
 do it, I'll e'en return ye to your wife. — [They struggle. 
 Roderigo sinks under him, and leaves a dead body.] — 
 Now shall I be hang'd for idlling this rascal. There's 
 no more to be done but cut off his head and bury 
 him; and then, perhaps, wanting a retreat, he may" 
 quit the lady of himself. I'll run for a hatchet, and 
 do it. ' [I^xit Mattheo. Eoderigo springs up with 
 a hollow laugh. 
 
 Bod. Hoh — hoh — hoh ! [Eoderigo runs. Bel- 
 zebub rises unth hmror. Mattheo returns 
 with a hatchet, trembles, drops it, and crowds 
 himself up to the wall. 
 
 Belz. Whither, Belphegor] Hold ! 
 
 Bod. My old colleague and friend, Belzebub ! 
 
 Belz. "Which I abjure. We've heard of ye, thou poor. 
 Thou pitiful, hen-hearted, sneaking devil ! 
 Thou general 1 A scandal to the name ! 
 Where's all that fable of the giants' war 
 Thou hast so often boasted as thy story ? 
 
 Bod. And 'tis my glory yet. 
 
 Belz. In chimney-corners ! 
 
 Thou ever threw'st Ossa on Pelion ! 
 Away, thou changeling ! No ; thy best pretence 
 Is the degenerate offspring of their gore, — 
 Their earth-born gore, — and all thy former soul 
 Is dwindled to a glow-worm. Thou a devil % 
 A very shame t' us all ! 
 
BELPHEGOR. 361 
 
 Rod. The inclination 
 
 Follows the temper of the body ; and I 
 Was out in mine. 
 
 Belz. Thou mightest have chosen better. 
 
 How many brave bandits were there hang'd yearly 
 That durst have trod the utmost brink of space, 
 Have fought the devil on a precipice, 
 Brav'd fate, and stood a second and third thunder ! — 
 And thou to take such a tame, snivelling slave ! 
 
 Rod. Men have no windows in their breast, and what 
 Could I judge of a carcase ? He was handsome, 
 And so a step to get a wife, which you well know 
 Was the first thing I was obliged to do. 
 
 Belz. And thou hast got one with a vengeance ! 
 Mistaken fool ! As if women knew not what a smock- 
 face meant ! They take him for one of themselves, 
 only that nature mistook him in the coinage. If ever 
 they loved anything, it was a rough-hewn fellow that 
 knew what was fit for 'em, and let 'em have it ; but 
 never their wills. If they once get that bit between 
 their teeth, they run away with ye. 
 
 Rod. I was to become in all things as a man, and 
 did no more than what other men did. And if your 
 Grand Cabal knew 'em so well, why was I sent hither? 
 
 Belz. As an honourable spy. Thou hadst the world 
 before thee ; every lap * was thy chapel of ease : nor 
 wert thou bound to residence. 
 
 Rod. And yet to marry one. 
 
 Belz. As those other men, for fashion sake. You 
 may easily believe we design'd no breed. But where 
 lay the obligation of loving her more than other men 
 their wives 1 But to doat on her—'tis thy eternal 
 blot! 
 
 Rod. There had been no quiet without it. 
 
 Belz. Unthinking sot ! could there be any -with it % 
 If so, what makes thee shifting thus % What's become 
 of your million of ducats 1 
 
 * " I'll make my haven in a lady's lap, 
 
 And 'witch sweet ladies with my words and looks." 
 
 Shakespeake. 
 
362 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Rod. My wife has either spent or cheated me of 
 'em. 
 
 Belz. Beast of a devil ! Must we torment the bowels 
 of the earth, or from our treasure of the ocean, the 
 spoils of wrecks and tempests, furnish thee] Thy 
 folly, or thy wife's, never to be satisfied — I know not 
 what? 
 
 Rod. Ye left me to myself, and I was guided by 
 others. What counsel ever drew his own convey- 
 ance 1 
 
 Belz. But thou, contrary to all rules of practice, 
 hast given thyself physic. 
 
 [RODERIGO stejps forward to hwi. 
 
 Rod. As his penance, then, even take the doctor. 
 
 Belz. Stand off, thou less than man, and unworthy 
 the name of devil ! I hate a trimming devil. Keep 
 off! 
 
 Rod. You are no competent judge ; you were never 
 married yourself. I submit all to Lucifer. 
 
 Belz. And, when your time's expir'd, you shall be 
 heard. 
 
 Rod. But if either my wife or creditors catch me in 
 the meantime, I must and will return at all adven- 
 tures. 
 
 Belz. That at your peril ! and remember I tell it 
 ye. [Sinks. Roderigo goes up to Mattheo, yet 
 
 trembling, and takes up the hatchet and 
 lifts it at him. 
 
 Rod. Now, sirrah ! remember for what you brought 
 this hatchet. But I'm a gentleman. Live, and trouble 
 me no more ! [Exit with it. 
 
 Mat. A fair escape. But what shall I say to 
 Grimaldi, though 1 Why, he's a noble person, and if 
 I tell him the truth, he may, perhaps, be satisfied — at 
 least for a while. And if I don't outwit my devil at 
 last, I give him leave to brain me. [Exit 
 
belphegor. 363 
 
 Scene iv. 
 
 Of Grbialdi's hmse. 
 Enter Grimaldi and Marone. 
 
 Mar. 'Tis the most I can gather. Pansa stands 
 firm to his first examination, and Bianca more and 
 more clears her lady. 
 
 Grwi. Nor can anything please me better but that, 
 my friend's getting up again. 
 
 Mar. Would I could say as much of Eoderigo ! 
 
 Grim. For why, man ? 
 
 Mar. He's broke, and run away. 
 
 Grim. What? — He that darkened all our stars? 
 Impossible ! 
 
 Mar. Too true. 
 
 Grim. Yet how you magnified him. 
 
 Mar. His great dealings and punctual payments 
 might have cheated any man as well as me. 
 
 Grim. Was the sum considerable 1 
 
 Mar. Two hundred thousand ducats at least. 
 ■ Grim. 'Tis a wonder no more follow him ; for it is 
 often with merchants as nine-pins, hit but your first 
 and second right, and 'tis odds but two parts in three 
 tumble. 
 
 Mar. That, I'm afraid, shall I, for one ! He owes 
 me ten thousand ducats ; and, when I went to his 
 lady this morning, she told me he had left her a 
 beggar. 
 
 Grim. And yet, you know, he was wise, prudent, 
 virtuous, and once your glory ; he called ye friend, 
 and shall a little dirt part ye ? Come ! your credit 
 will set him up again. 
 
 Mar. If it would to the gallows, I'd venture as 
 much more. 
 
 Grim. Your friend 1 You wouldn't, sure ? 
 
 Mar. My friend ! A very rogue — a mere cheating, 
 beggarly, bankrupt rascal ! 
 
364 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Enter a Servant to Marone. 
 
 Ser. Eoderigo, sir, attempting to have got home last 
 night in a disguise, was met by the bailiffs, who secur'd 
 him, and coming to him this morning, found him dead. 
 
 Mar. Nay, then, farewell my ten thousand ducats ! 
 — if yet that were all. 
 
 Ser. And there were found in his pocket some papers 
 purporting a design of betraying this city, wherein you 
 seem concern' d ; upon which the Senate have issued 
 warrants against you, and seiz'd your house and goods, 
 for moneys, as 'tis said, due to the bank. 
 
 [Marone starts and tears his hmr. 
 
 Mar. Eoderigo ! — my papers ! — the bank ! What 
 shall I do ? 
 
 Grim. Consult your virtue ! A virtuous man is 
 ever present to himself, and proof against the worst 
 of fortune. 
 
 Mar. Virtue ! — Cold comfort. 
 
 [He run^ off. Eoderigo meets him. 
 
 Rod. I was at your house, to have adjusted some 
 accounts between us, and they directed me hither. 
 
 [Marone embraces him. 
 
 Mar. Eoderigo ! I'm o'erjoyed ! They've belied 
 my friend. We'll never part ! 
 
 Piod. Content ! 
 
 [Eoderigo tahes him in his arms, and sinks with him. 
 
 Grim. Defend me, heaven ! What's this % 
 
 [He loalks. 
 
 Enter Servant. 
 
 It has half bereft me of myself. 
 
 Ser. A gentleman, sir, — they call him the devil- 
 doctor, — desires to speak with you. 
 
 Grim. I would he had come sooner. Bring him in ! 
 — \_Exit Servant.] — Sure hell's broke loose this year. 
 
 Enter Mattheo, his head broken. 
 
 The dreadful object's not yet digested. 
 
 Mat. I was with the lady according to my promise, 
 
BELPHEGOR. 365 
 
 but, like a dog by a glover, the devil smelt me out 
 from all the company. Ecce signum ! 
 
 [He points to his head. 
 
 Grim. I'm sorry for 't ; but the duke will send ye a 
 healing plaister. 
 
 Mat. And I more sorry that the lady lies under 
 such an ill direction. Strange configurations — the 
 planets in their detriment, retrograde and malevolent ; 
 nor do I remember to have seen a worse aspect- of 
 heaven. Saturn and Jupiter, sir 
 
 G-rim. No canting, I beseech ye ! I believe it. 
 
 Mat. And for the spirit that possesses her, there 
 has not such an ill-contriv'd, capricious, hectoring 
 devil broke loose these three last centuries. I believe 
 the fathers are sensible of it. 
 
 Grim. The truth is they have had a hard tug with 
 him. 
 
 Mat. He is perversus hcereticus. Bell, book, and 
 candle — he danced a jig to 't; and for holy water, 
 he made no more of it than I'd have done of a bottle 
 of Montefiasco. Upon the whole matter, I judge him 
 some devil of quality ; and then I have no power over 
 him. All mine are poor devils. 
 
 - Grim. This will not do. If you please to free her, 
 it will be well accepted and better rewarded. If not, 
 be sure the duke will have ye in the Inquisition, and 
 make ye set forth by what new way, unknown to the 
 Church, you have delivered the two former ; or, who 
 knows, inquire de vita et moribus, and hang yourself 
 
 Mat. Will ye, then, hear me without canting, and 
 I'll discover all ? 
 
 Grim. Hear ye I will ! but promise nothing. 
 
 Mat. I ask no more. And who d'ye think this 
 devil is 1 Even Roderigo, our late great merchant ! 
 
 Grim. Convince me of that, and thou say'st somewhat. 
 
 Mat. The story is too large to tell you now ; but 
 thus, in short, 't was by compact between us for a 
 prior service, — of which I'll give ye an account anon, 
 — and on that score, and no other, was it that I freed 
 those ladies of him. 
 
366 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Grim. Then thou may'st the better do this.' 
 
 Mat. I once thought it. But, since you spake to me, 
 we met, and I propos'd to him the quitting the Lady 
 Julia as the last kindness I'd demand of him ; and he 
 not only refus'd me, but profess'd himself my mortal 
 enemy. And if this — [^pointing to his head] — be the 
 token of a friend, I leave it to you. 
 
 Grim. I am inclined to believe thee ; for 'twas not 
 a minute before you Came but he was here, and gave 
 me that evidence of what you say. I'll never desire 
 to see 't again. But what shall we do with the duke? 
 
 Mat. Do not despair ! I've yet a trick shall do the 
 business. Get me a large stage, with a full throng of 
 people, fifes, flutes, cornets, trumpets, sackbuts, drums, 
 kettle-drums, hautboys, and bagpipes; and let the 
 Lady Julia be brought on the stage well attended j 
 and when I throw up my hat, let 'em all strike up 
 together ! and, when I cry advance, let a lady in a 
 veil, whom I'll appoint for that purpose, enter with 
 another shout ; and this, with some other ingredients 
 that I have, will, I doubt not, send him packing. 
 
 Grim. Appoint your time and place ! all shall be 
 ready. 
 
 Mat. I leave that to your pleasure. 
 
 Grim. What think you of to-morrow, and the duke's 
 great hall for the place 1 
 
 Mat. None better; and I'll attend ye there. [Exeunt. 
 
 Act v. — Scene i 
 
 Tlie Street. 
 Enter Fieschi 
 
 Fies. It takes, as right as wish. Quartilla was just 
 to her hour ; and in the dark I shufiled my Signior 
 Principi's hand into hers instead of mine, and there's 
 no doubt but she has put them together. He's a 
 
BELPHEGOR. 367 
 
 brawny fellow, and like enough to please her ; but, 
 for fear the jade should be fond of him next morning, 
 he has his lesson not to answer her anything but 
 broken gibberish. The Jews sent in the bed and 
 plate on Roderigo's account, as new furniture for 
 his house, and, as I am told, are resolv'd to seize it. 
 And, if my Signior Principi has not deceiv'd me, we 
 shall have rabble enough about the house presently. 
 ril take a turn or two to see the issue. [He lualJcs. 
 
 Enter Jews. 
 
 1 Jew. I say 'twas your folly, brother, to send it 
 hand over head. 
 
 2 Jew. We have had greater dealings with him, and 
 his payment was ever good. 
 
 1 Jew. But men may not be the same at all times. 
 It was considerable, and you should have inquir'd. 
 
 2 Jew. You knew his broker ; and I saw the goods 
 deliver'd. 
 
 1 Jew. But he was broke before. 
 
 2 Jew. How could I know that ? — Men don't pro- 
 claim it. 
 
 1 Jew. Had we been bitten by a snap, 'twere some- 
 what ; but by a prodigal fool ! The town will laugh 
 at us. 
 
 Enter Officers. 
 
 2 Jew. Let's not make it worse by talking. Come, 
 gentlemen ; stand close, and as the door opens, enter ! 
 
 [He knocks ; Fieschi comes up. 
 Fies. 'Morrow, gentlemen ! You're early men. 
 
 1 Jew. Business must not be neglected. 
 
 Fies. And if I mistake not, your attendants speak 
 where it lies. 
 
 2 Jew. It is too late to conceal it now; we're 
 miserably cheated ! 
 
 Fies. What 1 — beaten at your own weapons ! Eode- 
 rigo, sure, is a man of estate and credit. 
 
 1 Jew. Time was he might have commanded all we 
 have ; but now — ^the bird is flown. 
 
368 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 2 Jew. Gone, as a man may say, infumo ! 
 Fies. He left enough behind, unless his wife has 
 sold it. 
 
 1 Jew. There's the danger ! Knock harder ! 
 
 [Another knock 
 
 Fies. I have no small concern with him myself, 
 
 which brought me hither, too, though not so well 
 
 provided. But — [he whisjpers tliem\ — if ye can, I'll 
 
 give ye [Again. 
 
 2 Jew. When we have serv'd ourselves, we're yours. 
 
 Enter Don Hercio. 
 
 Her. What rude hand profan'd this sanctuary 1 
 
 Fies. And who are you ] 
 
 [FiESCHi taJces him. by the arm, while the rest enter. 
 
 Her. I'm the righter of wrongs, and undoer of in- 
 juries — heart of steel, and arms of brass ! 
 
 Fies. And what figure do you make in this house 1 
 
 Her. Only engag'd in Eoderigo's absence ; and, Kke 
 the dragon of old, I watch the golden fruit till his re- 
 turn. Still true to honour, and will fight her battles ! 
 
 Fies. As thus — with that baboon's snout % 
 
 [He wipes him over the face. 
 
 Her. Foto ! Had it been under the ear, y'ad mea- 
 sured your length. 
 
 Fies. Sirrah, begone ! and take to your old trade of 
 knitting caps and making hair buttons, tooth-picks, 
 and false dice, which you learnt of your comerogues 
 of the galleys. 
 
 [Jews and Officers run out again, Quartilla 
 following with a paring-shovel.* 
 
 Qua. Why, villains ! rogues ! Jews ! Is there no 
 consideration of a lady's honour ? 
 
 1 Jew. Keep her honour to herself, and give us our 
 goods. 
 
 Qua. And thou, Polacco 1 — Oh me ! [To FiESCm. 
 
 Fies. I hope your lady had a good night of it. 
 
 Qua. Thou devil incarnate ! 
 
 * Paring-iron : an instrument to pare a horse's hoofs with. — 
 Palsgrave. Paring-spade : a breast-plough. — Yoeksh. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 369 
 
 Enter Boys and Rabble, whooping. 
 
 Boys. Picaro ! Picaro ! make haste, Picaro ! — exe- 
 cution stays for ye ! 
 
 Qua. What was that ? — -Picaro ! 
 
 [Picaro appears above. 
 Fie. I'm but buttoning my coat, and will be with 
 ye instantly. 
 
 Boi/s. Come down ! come down ! There will be no 
 sport till you come. 
 
 [Boys hollow ; Quartilla lays at them with her 
 paring-shovel ; they take it from her. 
 Qua. Ah, rogue ! art thou there 1 Have we refus'd 
 Velasco, Tedesco, di Parphar, di Laco 1 
 
 [She wrings her hands. 
 Fies. The devil and all ! 
 
 Qu^. And now to be sham'd by the common hang- 
 man ! 
 
 Enter Picaro in a white cap, sleeves, apron tuck'd round 
 his waist, arid a large knife stuck in it. 
 
 Boys. Picaro ! Picaro ! Picaro ! Picaro ! 
 
 Qua. Is this your Principi Polacco 1 Foveraccia ! 
 Foveraccia, peccatrice me ! I could eat thee ! — \to 
 Fieschi.] — Thou a gentleman 1 You said you'd make 
 a whore of me, too ; but why don't you, sirrah % — why 
 don't ye ? [Clapping her hands at him, and crying. 
 
 Fies. The fool raves ! And so, Picaro, I hope you 
 Hk'd your bed-fellow 1 
 
 Fie. So well, sir, I owe ye another job, and that for 
 nothing — she was such flesh and blood ! 
 
 Her. And shall I see honour thus trampled on, and 
 
 yet wear trusty steel on thigh ? Let me come at the 
 
 rogue ] I'll pink his doublet, and make a sieve of 's 
 
 skin. — [Boys hollow round him, and twitch him behind. 
 
 He draws ; they tie a cracker to him. 
 
 Her. Eogues ! scoundrels ! tatterdemallions ! — [He 
 
 whets his point on the floor. They fire the cracker, and 
 
 hollow.'] — ^I say, rogues ! dogs in doublets ! were ye 
 
 more renown'd than Palmerin of England, or valiant 
 
 2 a 
 
370 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 than his cousin D'Oliva; more undaunted than the 
 twelve peers of France, or greater bullies than King 
 Arthur's Eound Table men ; more adventurous than 
 Valentine and Orson, or invincible than Don Bellianis 
 of Greece ; nay, were the whole mirror of knighthood 
 contracted in ye, I'd make ye know [As he is rant- 
 ing, PiCARO and anotJier slip the paring-shovel 
 hetween his legs, hoist him on their shoulders, 
 carry him round the stage, and exeunt, the hoys 
 hollowing. Manet Fieschi. 
 Fies. 'Twas somewhat sharp, but just; her treachery 
 Deserv'd no better from me. And now no more 
 But a long, long farewell to everything 
 That looks like woman, till some worthy action 
 Compound for my past folly. To repent 
 Is the next step to being innocent. 
 
 Men are no angels ! Somewhat must be indulg'd 
 To passion, error, or mistake. The best 
 Are not without their faults ; and the fairest life 
 Has some leaves in it to be read without favour. 
 
 [Marone is throivn upon the stage. Fieschi 
 helps him up. 
 Marone ! sure 'tis he ! 'Twas said the devil had car- 
 ried him away, and now, belike, has thrown him back 
 as not worth keeping. 
 
 Mar. Where am I ? or whence came 11 Signior ! 
 I have wonders to tell ye. Eoderigo is a spirit — a 
 very de^dl ! 
 
 Fies. And make you a good use of your escape from 
 him. 
 
 Mar. I will, I will ! and never more oppress any man ; 
 but ha^sdng got clear of the Senate, what I once said in 
 scorn I'll now perform in earnest — I'll build an hospital. 
 Fies. To lodge those yourself first beggar' d. 
 Mar. Give what I have to charitable uses. 
 Fies. That is to say, you'll sleep upon 't, and look 
 out for another mortgage next morning. Charity, you 
 know, begins at home. 
 
 Mar. Eespite your censure till you hear my story. 
 That I had hearkened to your good, virtuous uncle ! 
 
BELPHEGOR. 371 
 
 Fies. Whom, under my present circumstances, I'll 
 never see. If ever man lost his reason in a petticoat, 
 'twas I, — ^the poor, unfortunate, mistaken Fieschi. 
 
 [EMunt 
 
 Scene ii. 
 
 A great Hall. 
 
 Enter Grimaldi avd Mattheo. 
 
 Chim. You're a man of your word. 
 
 Mat. And pray, believe I made not those scruples 
 out of any repugnancy, or want of will to serve ye ; 
 but that, in case my endeavours answer not my desires, 
 you might judge the more favourably of me. Are all 
 things ready 1 
 
 Grim. They are ! and if you want nothing, I'll go 
 for the lady. 
 
 Mat. I only wait her. But be sure you follow the 
 directions I gave you. 
 
 Grim. They shall be observ'd. [Exit Grimaldi. 
 
 - Mat. And now assist me, thou great patron of man- 
 kind. Impudence ! I have some ends of Latin myself, 
 besides a bushel of hard words I learnt from others, 
 if I can hit 'em right. However, like them, I'll trowl 
 it off boldly, and enough of it ; nor shall that trifling 
 circumstance of sense and pertinence be any rub in 
 my way. Ha'n't I heard a man quote the books he 
 never read, and cited authors that never were ? And 
 ha'n't it past ? What should hinder it % 
 
 Grimaldi returns with Julia in an elbow-chair, 
 well attended. 
 
 Jul. Are you there 1 I'll conjure ye ! Unhand 
 me, villains ! 
 
 3Iat. And you, too, nor man, nor devil — semibovemque 
 viruin, semivirumque bovem. — [He whisjjers her.] — Bel- 
 phegor ! dear Belphegor ! you know I once serv'd ye 
 
372 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 at a dead lift. Come, be yet civil, and depart ! if not, 
 this is the last time of asking. 
 
 Jul. I forbid the banns ! both parties are not agreed. 
 Have I gravelled so many doctors, to turn out now for 
 a pitiful vineroUo ? Let me come at him ! 
 
 Mat. Then know, foul fiend, conjuro et commando 
 fihi, by St. Hugh's bones, St. Luke's face, and ventre 
 St. Gii ; and by all the occult qualities of salt, sulphur, 
 and mercury, I once more command and conjure ye, 
 that ye make me direct answer touching yourself, 
 your tatterdemallions and puggs, and forthwith de- 
 part this lady, with all your signatures, tricks, trinkets, 
 and trumperies, from the crown of her head to the sole 
 of her foot, under the pain that I releage and confine 
 ye to your dismal lake for a thousand years yet more 
 than were ever decreed ye. 
 
 Jul. The rogue's pleasant, and I'll humour him. 
 
 Mat. Tell me I say, and conjure ye as before, what 
 are ye % 
 
 Jul. Shame fa' him that speers and kens sae weel. 
 
 Mat. Your name, I say % 
 
 Jul. Monsieur Devile; Don or Signior Diavolo; 
 Meinherr Tifle ; Herenagh Mac Deul ; or Sir Duncan, 
 in the devil's name. 
 
 Mai. What's here % — Philippus, Aureolus, Theo- 
 phrastus, Paracelsus, Bombastus of Hoenhayim? How 
 many are there of ye % 
 
 Jul. Ten hundred thousand ton ! 
 
 Mat. Of what order? 
 
 Jul. Like other bodies aggregate, of none, nor ever 
 reducible under any. 
 
 Mat. At least, your superior's name ? 
 
 Jul. I never own'd any. 
 
 Mat. Tell me, I say, and '^uheo — Is there absoluta 
 2)ofentia asmodei, sive cujusvis alii, or a vitium corpmis, as 
 say the learned ? What made ye first possess her 1 
 
 Jul. Look on her, and answer yourself — she's young 
 and handsome ! 
 
 Mat. So was your wife, sirrah ! and yet [She 
 
BELPHEGOR. 373 
 
 falls into a Jit] — This will work presently. — [Aside.] — 
 How long have ye been there 1 
 
 Jul. Much about the time you crack'd a command- 
 ment with your tailor's wife. — [Mattheo starts.] — Are 
 ye concern'd, gentleman "? Ha — ha ! 
 
 Mat. Bring me the flagellum dcemonmnf I'll taw 
 
 Jul. Or rather give yourself the first discipline, and 
 I'll help to lay it on. Ha — ha — ^ha 1 
 
 3fat. Once more, I say, turn out, or by the ^phoheron 
 phoherotaton, ton de apomeibomenos, and heautontemoru- 
 menos — Smyrna, Rhodos, Colophon, Salamis, Chios, Argos, 
 A tJience — I'll 
 
 Jul. What, my new conjuror — ^what 1 Hoh — hoh ! 
 
 Mat. I'll lead ye about the country, like a bear, by 
 the nose ; make ye turn spits, like a dog in a wheel ; 
 and if that won't do 't, have ye chain'd, Hke a flea in a 
 box. And therefore, despatch, and let me know what 
 sign you'll give of your departure. 
 
 Jul. Thunder — thunder — thunder ! As thus, rascal I 
 
 [She flies on him. 
 
 Mat. I'U have ye bound over for bloodshed and 
 battery. 
 
 Jid. I fear no justice under heaven. 
 
 Mat. I'll bring ye into th' spiritual court, and have 
 ye excommunicated ! 
 
 Jul. I am no member of your church ; or, if I were, 
 I have no money to pay fees. 
 
 Mat I'U have ye burnt in effigy, with brimstone, 
 galbanum, aristolochia, hypericon, and rue, in a more 
 terrible cap and painted coat than the Inquisition yet 
 ever thought of And, if all this fail, I'll send ye back 
 to your wife. 
 
 Jul. You told me so once before ; but now, I hope 
 you'll stay till you catch me. Yet I don't like the 
 rogue. [Aside. 
 
 Mat. Then I'll bring her to you. — [Be throws up his 
 hat. Wind music is heard, ivith a shout without. 
 
 Jul. What would this peasant be at ] I have more 
 than once view'd all the pomp of heaven, nor am I 
 
374 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 ignorant of what's most formidable m hell. But what 
 means this ? Prithee, Mattheo, what is it 1 
 
 3Iat. Are ye come to your prithee, sirrah ] Either 
 march off civilly, or know that, will or nil, you shall ! 
 Alas, poor Roderigo I your wife's in chase of ye, and 
 is just coming up-stairs. Advance, Imperia ! 
 
 [The same music is heard. A lady in a veil enters, 
 with shouting. Julia springs at him, and falls 
 as dead. It thunders. All startle. 
 
 Jul. 'Tis she ! she 'as found me out. 
 
 Mat. Fear nothing ! the work is done. And now, 
 take care of theJady. 
 
 Grim. I'll see it done. And, having made the duke 
 
 laugh, it shall be my next business to see you gratified. 
 
 [Julia is carried off. Exeunt all but IVIattheo. 
 
 3Iat. And if I get no more, 'tis no great matter ; I 
 have lin'd myself pretty well already. And now, all 
 things consider'd, I think myself happy enough that 
 I have 'scaped hanging at last ; and if, in spite of my 
 stars, I set up as a doctor, who can help it 1 [Exit. 
 
 Scene iil 
 
 MONTALTO'S house. 
 
 Enter Montalto, in a nightgown, Marone, Portia, 
 and Attendants. 
 
 3fon. I heard it from my friend, and must confess 
 Not without some surprise. I've here and there 
 Read of the devil's power to condense 
 A cloud, t' assume and actuate a body ; 
 But never came near the experiment till now. 
 Where were ye in that absence ? 
 
 Mar. I remember 
 
 No more of that than how I was thrown back. 
 
 Mon. You would do well to make a scrutiny 
 Into yourself, and where you guess the cause. 
 Unlearn that first. 
 
 For. And if you chance to find 
 
BELPHEGOR. 375 
 
 You have oppress'd the poor, make restitution, 
 And by what's past correct what is to come. 
 
 Mar. I'd once such thoughts ; but when I consider'd 
 I only took what law had given me, 
 I thought there was no such great haste or need. 
 
 For. The greater the oppression, when law 
 Is made the stale to 't. This of Eoderigo, 
 For aught you know, was given ye as a caution. 
 
 Mar. And had there been no malice of his own, 
 I should have thought so ; but he ow'd me money, — 
 Ten thousand ducats,— and, o' my conscience, 
 Thought to have frighten'd me to a release ; 
 And if I've giv'n him one, I'll plead j?er clures. 
 
 However, this I'm resolv'd — that, and other the 
 like debts, I'll give 'em all to pious uses. But for 
 restitution — alas ! my estate's but small, and I cannot. 
 
 . [MoNTALTO smiles. 
 
 Mon. That is, you will not ; nor, perhaps, repent 
 The late intended treachery to your countr}^ 
 A \drtuous man, like Sceva, in the breach 
 Combats an army singly for her safety ; 
 Inseparably they stand and fall together. 
 Cato would not survive his country's liberty ; 
 Nor did that hberty outlive Cato. 
 Make me think better of ye. Yet begin ; 
 Delay is just so much time lost. 
 
 Enter Grbialdi and Mattheo. 
 
 Grim. My doctor, here, has giv'n him a third re- 
 move. 
 
 Mat. And I hope there will be no occasion of show- 
 ing him round. 
 
 Gr'un. He'll tell ye the story Tvdthin j and not un- 
 worth your hearing. In the mean, I cannot too often 
 congratulate your recovery. 
 
 Mon. Nor I acknowledge your friendship. 
 I'll tell ye news — good news ! for there's nothing 
 We must not share. Methinks I am become 
 Another man, and this small quiet pleases 
 Beyond the noise of crowds. Now I can see 
 
376 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 The great ones heave like moles, and at next turn 
 Heave out themselves ; another, mushroom-like, 
 Spring in a night and cropp'd ere noon ; a third, 
 Snatch at a booty, which a fourth strikes from liim, 
 And unconcern' d myself. 
 
 Glim. True happiness 
 
 Lies not in greatness but an honest mind, 
 Not fram'd of accidents, nor subject to 'em — 
 A serene breast, and such a life as is not 
 'Sham'd to live, nor yet afraid to die. 
 
 For. And yet how does the world turmoil itself ! 
 How do they play away their days, and trifle 
 Their time in parts till they have slipped the whole 1 
 One business breeds another ; hope, desire ; 
 And that makes room for more. How they afflict 
 Themselves and envy others ! Eestless in war. 
 And ev'n in peace unquiet ! Compass with care 
 What they possess with more anxiety ! 
 
 Mon. To them that love it, be 't ; I neither like 
 The merchandise nor price. What is 't to him 
 That can't dissemble 1 — him that cannot flatter %— 
 That's not ambitious by indignities 
 To rise to dignities and lose himself? 
 Whereas retirement, as it costs us nothing, 
 Is much the shorter cut to heaven itself 
 
 Enter Imperia and Quartilla as distracted. 
 
 Imp. Help — help me, sister ! Can ye forgive me ? 
 You can't — you can't ! Whither shall I run ] He'll 
 ha' me — he'll ha' me. 
 
 Pot. You never injur'd me ; or if you had, I have, as 
 I ought, forgot it. 
 
 Qua. Our house is more than haunted ! 
 
 Imp. Sister — sister, I've married the devil ! See ! 
 where he stands ! 
 
 For. Bless the poor miserable woman ! good heaven ! 
 
 Qua. His eyes as big as pumpkins — [she starts'] — 
 and a mouth like any baker's oven ! Let me alone, 
 good devil; and take my lady— she's younger flesh ! 
 [Slie starts up and down, and shrieks. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 377 
 
 Imp. See ! see ! — the house cracks ! — ^the walls are 
 coming together ! — ^that beam was shot at me ! 
 
 Qua. I'm your old servant, Quartilla ! Good devil 
 
 Imp. There, too, the ground opens ! — I'll at him, 
 though ! Dost thou yet brave me % — Time was thou 
 fear'd'st me more ! — ^I'll give ye back your keys ! — 
 Dost thou yet — yet 
 
 Pm\ I see nothing, sister. Pray, walk in with me j 
 my innocence dares speak to him. 
 
 Imp. There, there — the greater devil — Fieschi ! 
 
 For. Poor afflicted woman ! — her hurt imagination 
 conceives anything. Pray, go in with me ! I'll bear 
 ye company. 
 
 Imp. No — no ; I'll out at that window ! 
 
 Enter Eoderigo. All are surprised. Imperia 
 and Quartilla shrieh and run off. Portia 
 folloius. Eoderigo makes up to Marone. He 
 gets behind Montalto. Montalto steps out. 
 
 Mon. Horror ! Be man or devil, I'll know what 
 thou art ! [Eoderigo gives hack. 
 
 Bod. Thy virtue is beyond the power of hell. Be 
 safe ! and if you have not heard my story, there's one 
 —[lie points to Mattheo] — can teU it ye. And so my 
 embassy is at an end perforce. 
 
 Mat. And your creditors may speak to ye upon even 
 terms. 
 
 Rod. No more of that. On what account I first 
 assum'd this body, you — [to Mattheo] — know ; how I 
 liv'd among ye, ye all know ; and why I went off so 
 soon, my wife best knows. In short, I have found 
 earth the greater hell, and, being obliged to no more 
 than my own experience, must declare that men's 
 souls are in the right, and 'tis their wives that send 
 them thither ; and, for myself, promise ye I'll never 
 again repent me at so dear a rate. \Exit. 
 
 Mon. Stupendous ! And the more I consider it, the 
 more I'm at a loss. My first surprise is now astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 Grim. I'm of opinion his two servants, that were 
 
378 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 taken up the other night, may be the same as their 
 master, and therefore I order' d Picaro to bring them 
 hither, as if they were to be put upon the rack. Per- 
 haps they'll tell ye more. 
 
 Mon. It can be no hurt, tho' nothing yet appears 
 against 'em. 
 
 G^rim. I would I could say as much of my unfortu- 
 nate nephew that was; and whom Imperia's last words 
 unmllingly brought to my memory. Can ye, as I 
 have, and ever will, forget him ? 
 
 Mon. And more than that, I have forgiv'n him ! do 
 you the same. He is not naturally vicious, and who 
 knows what his future actions may be % Whatever 
 were the injury design' d, it was to me. My Portia 
 is safe, and I'm reveng'd enough. The dismal object 
 once again ! 
 
 Enter Koderigo, plodding. All tJie comj>any again 
 sun 
 
 Mod. But stay ! Suppose 
 
 Mat. Are you come again? Nay, then, advance, 
 bailiffs ! [Roderigo starts. Recovers, and goes up 
 
 ruffling to Mm. 
 
 Eod. Beware, sirrah, how you fool once too much ! 
 Suppose, I say, my term being not a full third part 
 expir d, they'll not receive me below ! Why, I must 
 find somewhere to put my head. For the women, I 
 bar 'em, bye and main.* Who knows but I may have 
 better luck among the men ? I have, I must confess, 
 learn d some wit among ye ; and according to your 
 frank, open, wonted simplicity, I'll tell ye my design 
 — cross-bite it if you can. 
 
 Mat That could I, sirrah, if I durst. 
 
 [From behind Montalto. 
 
 Bod. I'll buzz fears and jealousies among citizens, 
 factions among country gentlemen, grumblings among 
 younger brothers, heart-burnings among courtiers, and 
 sedition among the common people. But suppose, 
 again, my citizen's wife work her husband into a good 
 
 * Terms in dice-play. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 379 
 
 trade ? — my country gentleman be made a justice of 
 the peace? — my younger brother become an elder 
 brother ?-^-my courtier stumble on a good office, or 
 be taken off with a feather in his cap 1 — the common 
 people get another opinion by the end 1 — and, at last, 
 necessity force every man to comply with what he is 1 
 Then am I but where I was ; and, as I said before, in 
 the greater hell. And therefore, gentlemen, till we 
 meet again, Bueonos nochios! [He sinks on the stage. 
 
 Mon. It yet amazes me ! 
 
 Mat. Do not believe him ; it is not the first time he 
 has shown me that trick. 
 
 Enter PiCARO, with Crispo and MiNGO manacled. 
 
 Pic. I have brought them, sir, according to your 
 commands ; but if I may be believ'd in my own trade, 
 the first stretch will pull 'em in pieces. 
 
 Grim. However, give 'em the question. What are 
 
 Oris. The same our master was. And since our 
 master, as I see, has giv'n us the slip, what have I to 
 do but follow him ? 
 
 Min. The same will trusty Mingo. Tell us of racks ! 
 As I came whole among ye, be assur'd I'll not hazard 
 a joint to satisfy a world ; ev'n take 'em all together. 
 
 Cris. And mine to boot. 
 
 [Crispo and Mingo drop, and leave dead bodies. 
 
 Grim. 'Tis what I thought. Those bodies were 
 assum'd. See if you know 'em; perhaps they may 
 have pass'd your hand. [To PiCARO. 
 
 Fie. As likely as not.- — [He turns them.] — Why, 
 truly, sir, it is no country work, and whoever did it 
 need not be asham'd of 't. Once more — the knot is 
 in the right place ; and now I better consider it, 'tis 
 all my own work. This Eoderigo, I remember him ; 
 his name was Scabbalucchio, a Neapolitan bandit — 
 I made his passport for t'other world about four years 
 since, but a more cowardly rogue I never saw. He 
 hung on arse more than a bear going to a stake ; and 
 was three-quarters dead ere he got half the ladder. 
 
380 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 But for the other two, I know no more of them but 
 that it was my work too ; and for plain work, I dare 
 justify it. 
 
 Grim. Well, take them off, and throw 'em together 
 into some hole or other ! {They are dragged off. 
 
 Mar. And let 'em lie till I inquire after them. 
 
 Grim. And beware you how ye venture another trip 
 to terra damnata ! 
 
 Mar. But the mob, I'm told, are got into my house, 
 and rifling what the bank has left. 
 
 Grim.. 'Tis natural to 'em, when they cannot cudgel 
 the ass, to vent their rage against the pack-saddle ! 
 Go, make your peace with the Senate ; and for the 
 rest, time may obliterate your oppressions, and the 
 next age forget their fathers were undone by ye. 
 
 Portia re-enters. 
 
 For. Poor, comfortless woman ! she's fall'n asleep at 
 last. 
 
 Mon. I think 't would do well to send her and all 
 the women to the Convertiti ! 
 
 Grim. And for Pansa, I'll secure him the galleys ! 
 And now, sir, give me leave to tell ye in private what 
 yet I have in charge from the Senate. Our duke 
 having absolv'd his two years' government, the Senate 
 is at last become so sensible of your merit, that they 
 have elected you Duke in his room. A more solemn 
 message will suddenly attend ye. 
 
 Mon. Tempt not your friend with a fair gilded pill, 
 All bitterness within. I am content. 
 And what can Providence add more 1 
 Caesar himself, the master of so many, 
 Is yet the servant of more. 
 
 For. And why should my Montalto seek elsewhere 
 What he may give himself? If ever ambition 
 Were justifiable, 'tis the ambition 
 Of being rather good than great. 
 
 Grim. Let snakes and worms, the emblems of self- 
 love. 
 Circle themselves into themselves, while nature 
 
BELPHEGOR. 381 
 
 Minds more the preservation of the whole 
 Than any single birth. Your country calls, 
 And you must once more serve her. 
 
 Mon. Why should I waste my small remain of life 
 In blind pursuit of what can only serve me 
 To furnish out an epitaph, yet must 
 Subject me to the world and lash of fortune ? 
 
 For. Fortune ! AVho'd trust her that has ever heard 
 A triumph turn'd into a sacrifice ? 
 Or a swoll'n favourite, whom the same day 
 Saw worshipp'd by the Senate and ere night 
 Torn piecemeal by the people ? 
 
 Mon. No, Portia 1 
 
 We'll find some nobler object — one on which 
 She has no empire. 
 
 For. There spoke Montalto ! 
 
 And let the world, from his example, learn — 
 Crimes may be fortunate while virtue creeps. 
 And, Hke a flower oppressed with morning dew. 
 Droops its neglected head ; but it will rise — 
 Eise under the dead weight, when t' others shall. 
 Like mighty ruins, break themselves on what they fall. 
 
 \Exmnt amnes. 
 
EPILOGUE. 
 
 Sjpoken hy Imperia. 
 
 All is not done : there's yet a word or two 
 For th' author ; and, fair ladies, first to you — 
 You, who're the making or the marring powers ; 
 For most men's watches ever went by yours. 
 From you he hopes he need not fear a frown ; 
 For what is Portia's virtue but your own ? — 
 Your own transcrib'd, and what — if ye must know 
 The truth — he only copied off from you. 
 
 But for myself — for once ev'n let me pass, 
 And tho' the face mayn't please ye, spare th' glass ; 
 Ye can't but say, I made the Devil an ass ! 
 Contraries by their contraries appear ; 
 Were you all 'like, where were the good or fair ? 
 There were no fund for wit were all men wise ; 
 And fools would want their representatives. 
 
 Faith, ladies, take it favourably ! and then, 
 He thinks he's more than half secure o' th' men. 
 For you that have good wives can't disapprove 
 That in another which in them ye love ! 
 And you that have got bad ones cannot call 
 The copy ill that hits the original. 
 What tho' at home ye dare scarce tread for fear 1 
 Y'are out of hearing now, and may laugh here ! 
 And you that ne'er had any of your own, 
 May view the ground before the match be run. 
 
 Sure, some of ye will be pleas'd ; and if so, 
 Give me your hands upon 't. And seal it, you 
 Fair ladies, with a smile ; 'twill clear the air, 
 Make it a starry evening, and all fair. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 I.— THE MARRIAGE OF THE DEVIL. 
 
 The tales of Straparola are so little known in this country, that 
 the following translation of the fourth fable of the Second Night, 
 de Les Facecieuses Nuits de Straparole, by *' Pierre de Larivey- 
 Champenois, " from the original Italian, may not be unaccept- 
 able to our readers, particularly as Wilson refers to the author 
 in his preface to Belphegor. 
 
 The edition of Pierre de Larivey, from which it has been 
 extracted, was printed at Amsterdam in 12mo, 1725, and is in 
 two volumes. There was an earlier translation by * ' Guillaume 
 Roville " in 1615, the preface to which is reprinted by De 
 Larivey ; it is of uncommon occurrence, and we have not been 
 able to obtain access to a copy. It is not to be found in Colonel 
 Stanley's sale catalogue, probably the richest collection of 
 FacetijB ever brought to the hammer in this country. 
 
 Le Diable entendant que les maris se plaignoient de leurs 
 femmes, epousa Silvie, & print pour compere Gasparin Bond, 
 d' ne pouvant plus durer avec sa femme, entra ou corps du Due 
 de, Melplie, puis son compere Gasparin Ven jelta hors. 
 ■ La legerete & peu d'entendement, qui se trouve pour le jourd 
 hui en la plupart des femmes ; je parle de celles qui sans aucune 
 consideration se laissent aveugler les yeux de I'entendment, 
 tachant d'accomplir leurs desirs effrenez me donne occasion de 
 raconter a la noble assistance un conte, non point par ci-devant 
 entendue. Et ja9oit que vous la trouviez assez brieve & mal 
 fagonnee, si est-ce qu'elle donnera a vous autres femme quelques 
 instructions, comme j'espere de n'etre point si facheuse dore- 
 navant a vos maris : Comme vous avez ete jusqu' a present. 
 Et se je vous semble un peu trop piquant, ne m'en accusez point, 
 car je suis hrunble serviteur de toutes vous autres, mais addres- 
 sez-vous a Madame, qui malache la bride de pouvoir raconter, 
 comme vous avez aussi entendu, ce qui me sera plus agreable. 
 II y a done assez long temp, gracieuses Dames, que le Diable 
 aiant ete abruve des grosses noises & questions, que faisoint 
 journeUement les mariez centre leurs femmes, delibera de se 
 marier. Et pour ce fau'e, il print la forme d'un beau jeune 
 iils, & de bonne grace, garni de deniers & possessions, & le fit 
 nommer Pancrace Stornel. Etant deja seme le bruit d'ice lui 
 par toute la ville beaucoup de Courratiers le vindrent trouver, 
 
384 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 lui presentant en manage de fort belles femmes avec gros deniers, 
 & entr' autres lui fiit presente une fort belle & honete Damoiselle, 
 nominee Silvie Balastre, laquelle etant en la grace du Diable la 
 print pour sa bien-aimee epousee. 
 
 On ne pouroit estimer les magnifiques noces, avec les 
 triomphes, parens tant d'un cote que d'autre, qui furent invitez 
 a ce festin. Le jour des epousailles il print pour son compere 
 de I'anneau Gasparin Bonci, & les pompes des noces finies, il 
 mena sa chere epouse en sa maison. Pen de jours, apres le diable 
 lui dit : Ecoutez ma femme Silvie, que j'aime plus que moi- 
 meme, vous pouvez assez facilement connoitre de quelle affection 
 je vous aime, comme vous en avez pu faire I'experience en 
 beaucoup de manieres. Puis qu'ainsi, est done vous me ferez 
 une grace, qui sera facile a vous & a moi agreable. La grace 
 que je veux de vous est, que vous me demandiez a present ce 
 que vous pouvez imaginer soit de vetement, comme perles 
 bagues, & autres choses qui appartiennent aux femmes, car j'ai 
 delibere pour I'amour que je vous porte, de vous contenter de 
 tout ce que vous me demanderez, voire valut-il un Eoiaume, 
 sous cette condition, que pour I'avenir vous ne me molesterez 
 plus pour telle occasion, mais que tout cela suifise pour tout le 
 tems de v6tre vie, & donnez-vous bien garde de m'en demander 
 plus! Car vous n'aurez jamais autre chose de moi. Silvie 
 aiant demande tems de repondre a cela se'n alia trouver sa mere 
 qui s'appeUoit Anastasie, laquelle etant deja assez agee etoit 
 l)areillement bien fine & russee, & lui reconta tout ce que le 
 mari lui avoit dit en lui demandant conseil fur cela. La mere 
 qui s9avoit fort bien joiir son personnage en telles matieres, 
 aiant entendu sa demande, print la plume & du papier & com- 
 men9a a ecrire tout ce qu'une langue n'eut pu raconter en deux 
 jours, puis dit a sa fille. Tien, retourne t'en a ta maison & dis 
 a ton mari qu'il te fournisse de tout ce qui est escrit en ce papier, 
 en se faisant tu feras contente de lui. Silvie s'etant partie 
 d'avec la mere, se'en alia vers son logis ou elle se present a devant 
 son mari, & lui requit tout ce qui etoit contenu en son memoire. 
 Pancrace aiant lu & diligemment considere le contenu sa 
 demande, lui dit tels propos, sgavez vous bien qu'il y a, ma 
 mie Silvie, regardez bien qu'il n'y defaille rien de ce que me 
 demandez, afin que vous ne vous plaigniez pas apres de moi, car 
 je vous avertis que se vous me demandez apres aucune chose, 
 elle vous sera refusee, & ne vous serviront de rien vos prieres ni 
 larmes & soupirs. Pensez done bien a v6tre cas, & regardez 
 bien qu'il ne vous faille rien. Silvie ne S9achant autre chose que 
 demander, dit, qu'elle se contenoit de ce qui etoit ecrit au papier 
 & quelle ne lui demanderoit plus rien. Tant j a que le Diable 
 fit faire de beaux vetemens garnis de grosse perles, bagues & 
 autres richesses, les plus belles k les plus triomphantes, qui 
 furent oncques vdes. Outre plus il lui bailla de belles coefes 
 sem'ees de perles, les aneauex, ceintures & autres choses encore 
 
BELPHEGOR. 385 
 
 en plus grand nombre qu'il n'y a voit au memoire. Ce qui seroit 
 impossible de raconter. Or Silvie se voiant ainsi bien vetue & 
 si bien accoiitree, qu'il n'y avoit point d'autre femme en toute 
 la cite qui lui ressemblat, en celas s'en tenoit toute glorieuse, & 
 ue se pouvoit imaginer de demander, aucune chose au mari ru 
 qu'elle se sentoit garnie de tout ce qu'il lui etoit nesscessaire. Ad- 
 vint qu'il se prepara en ce meme terns un magnifique triompbant 
 festin, oil furent invitees toutes les plus fameuses & honorables 
 Dames qui se trouvassant, & entr' autres, Madame Silvie ne fut 
 pas oubliee etant des plus belles nobles, & plus apparentes de 
 toute la cite. Alors les Dames cbangerent toutes les fa9ons d'ha- 
 billemens en d'autres, non point encore accoutumez, tellement 
 que leurs accoutremens etoient si difFerens des premiers qu'on 
 ne les connoissoit aucunement. Elle n'etoit pas fiUe de bonne 
 mere, comrae on fait encore pour le jourd'hui, celle qui ne 
 trouvoit une nouvelle fa9on pour mieux honorer le festin, 
 cbacune femme tachoit de tout son pouvoir de surmonter les 
 autres en nouvelles pompes & magnificences. Cependant les 
 nouvelles vindrent aux oreilles de Madame Silvie, que les 
 bourgeoises de la ville trouvoient nouvelles fa9ons d'babits, pour 
 lionerer la fete triompbante, tellement qu'elle se vint a imaginer 
 que les vetemens qu'elle avoit fait faire n'etoient plus bons, ni 
 convenables pour le tems, parce qu'ils etoient faits a I'antique, 
 & lors s'usoient accoutremens d'autre maniere, au moien dequoi 
 elle tomba en si grande melancolie & depit, qu'elle ne pouvoit 
 manger ni dormir, & n'entendoit-on autre chose par la maison 
 que soupirs & plaintes, que se departoient du plus profond de 
 son coeur. 
 
 Xe Diable qui S9avoit tout ce que sa femme avoit au coeur, 
 fit semblant de ne'n s9avoir rien, & s'aprochant d'elle, lui 
 dit. Qu-avez-vous, Silvie ? que vent dire que vous etes ainsi 
 fachee. Ne voulez-vous pas aller a ce festin? Silvie voiant 
 I'occasion de repondre, prit un peu de hardiesse, & lui dit ; 
 comment voulez-vous, mon mari, que j'y aille? mes habits sont 
 tons faits a I'antique & ne sont pas comnie ceux que les autres 
 Dames portent. Youlez-vous qu'on se mocque de moi? vi'ai- 
 ment je ne le crois pas. Alors le Diable lui repondit ; ne vous 
 ai-je pas fait faire tout ce qui vous etoit necessaire pour tout le 
 tems de votre vie ? Comment me demandez-vous quelque chose 
 maintenant ? Mais elle repondit n'avoir aucuns vetemens de 
 telle fa9on, se plaignant grandement de son malheur ; tellement 
 que le Diable lui dit. Or sus, que se soit pour jamais demandez 
 ce que vous voulez, il vous sera octroie pour cette fois, & si 
 vous me demandez aucune chose pour I'avenir, soiez assure qu'il 
 vous adviendra chose dont vous serez, mal-contente, Silvie 
 tout joieuse lui demandu taut de choses qu'il seroit impossible 
 a d'ecrire. Le Diable sans gueres retarder contenta pour lors 
 sa femme en ce qu'elle lui demanda. Bien-tot apres les Dames 
 commeucerent a trouves nouvelles fa9on d'habits que SiMe 
 
 2b 
 
S86^ BELPHEGOR. 
 
 n'avoit point ; & ponr autant qu'elle ne pouvoit comparoitre 
 entre les autres Dames qui avoient fagons sur fa9ons, noiiobstant 
 qu'elle fut ricliement accoutree & garnie de toutes sordes de 
 bagues, s'en fachoit grandement & n'osoit le manifester a son 
 mari, a cause qu'il I'avoit deja content^e par deux fois, de ce 
 qui ce pouvoit sonhaiter en ce monde. 
 
 A la fin le Diable la voiant ainsi triste, & sa9liant bien 
 la cause toutes-fois feignant de ne'n s^avoir rien, lui dit. 
 Qu'y a t'il, ma mie Silvie ? qu'avez vous a etre si triste ? 
 Alois elle prit un peu de hardiesse, & lui dit, N'ai-je 
 pas occasion d'etre fachee vu que je suis sans habits a la 
 nouvelle fa9on, tellement que je n'oserois comparoitre entre 
 les autres femmes que je ne sois mocquee & montree au 
 doigt. Ce que retourne a grand reproche de yous & de moi, 
 joint que la sujetion ou je suis etant avec vous avec la fideletie 
 que j'ai envers vous ne merite point une telle honte & scandale. 
 Alors le Diable emu d'un depit qu'il avoit, lui dit : Dequoi 
 avez-vous en faute etant avec moi ? Ne vous ai-je pas deja 
 eontente par deux fois de ce que m'avez demande : dequoi vous 
 plaignez-vous done ? Quant a moi je ne scais plus que vous faire, 
 je vous veux encore contenter de votre desordonne desir, toutes- 
 fois je m'en irai si loin que vous n'aurez jamais nouvelles de 
 moi. 
 
 Et de fait apres lui avoir donne de toutes les sortes 
 d'habits de soie selon, le tems, & I'aiant du tout contentee se 
 partit sans prendre conge d'elle, & s'en alia a Melphe ou il 
 entra au corps du Due en le tourmentant a prement. Le pauvre 
 Due se trouvant ainsi maltraite en etoit merveillesement facb^, 
 & n'y avoit en Melphe homme de si bonne & si sainte vie qui 
 lui put chasser du corps. Or advint que Gasparin Boncy com- 
 pere de Monsieur le Diable, fut banni de la cite, pour quelques 
 exces par lui commis; tellement que afin qu'il ne fut point 
 prins et puni par justice, il se partit de-1^ & se'n alia a Melphe, 
 pour autant qu'il ne s9avoit aucun metier, sinon joiier & trompes 
 un chacun; incontinent le bruit fut seme par la ville de Melphe, 
 que c' etoit un homme expert & metable a toute entreprise 
 honorable, & nean-moins il etoit du tout inutile. Ainsi que 
 ce Gasparin joiioit un jour avec quelques gentilhommes de 
 Melphe, & les aiant attrapez avec ses piperies, ils se facherent 
 grandement, & si la crainte de la justice ne les eut divertis ils 
 I'auroient facilement tue. Toutefois ne pouvant plus I'un diceux 
 endurer tel outrage, dit en lui meme. Je t'en punirai d'une 
 telle sorte qu'il te souviendra de moi tant que tu vivras, & sans 
 plus retarder laissa ses compagnons, & s'en alia tiouver le Due, 
 auquel aiant fait un grande reverence, dit ainsi : Tres excellent 
 Due & Seigneur il y aen cette ville un nomme Gasparin, qui se 
 vante partout de s9avoir chasser du corps des hommes, les esprits 
 de qtielque qualitie qu'ils soient ou terrestres, ou aerez : Au 
 moien dequoi il me semble qu'il seroit bon que vous en fissiez 
 
BELPHEGOR. 387 
 
 Texperienee, afin que suffiez delivere d'un tel tourment. Le Diic 
 aiant entendu ces propos, envoia incontenent qnerir Gasparin 
 lequel entendant le vouloir du Due s'en alia par devers lui, si- 
 tot qu'il I'eut regarde en la face, il lui dit : Seigneur Gasparin, 
 j'entends que vous faites profession, & vous vantez de scavoir 
 chasser les esprits ; quant a moi, comme vqus voiez, j'en ai un au 
 corps, & si vour, ni'en deliverez, je vous promets. Seigneur Gas- 
 parin, de vous faire un tel present, que vous serez heureux tout 
 les terns de votre vie, Gasparin qui n'avoit jamais oiii parler de 
 telles choses fut tout etonne niant fort et ferme de s'en etre 
 jamais vante, Le Gentilhomme qui n'etoit gueres loin de-la 
 s'approaclia, & lui dit : Ne vous souvient-il pas maitre, que vous 
 me dites telles paroles & telles, & Gasparin assuroit qu'il ne'n 
 etoit rien. Etant ainsi tous deux en ce debat, I'un niant & 
 I'autre affirmant, Le Due leur dit : Or sus, faites un peu de 
 silence, quant a vous maitre Gasparin, je vous donne trois jours 
 de terme pour penser a votre cas, & si vous me deliverez de 
 misere, je vous promets de vous donner le plus beau chateau qui 
 soit en mon pais : et pourrez disposer de moi a v6tre vouloir, 
 comme de votre personne propre; autrement soiez assure que 
 d'aujourd'hui en buit jours, vous serez pendu & entrangle entre 
 les deux colonnes de mon palais. 
 
 Gasparin aiant entendu le vouloir de Due, fut merveil- 
 leusement fache, & s'etant parti de sa compagnie, commen9a 
 a penser jour & nuit comment il pourroit chasser cet esprit. 
 Le jour de I'assignation venu, Gasparin retourna vers le 
 Due, & I'aiant fait entendre sur un tapis en terre, commenga 
 a conjurer le mauvais esprit qu'il sortit de ce corps et qu'il 
 ne- le tourmentat, Le Diable que se reposoit alors en ce 
 corps a son plaisir, ne lui repondit autre chose, mais enfla 
 si fort la gorge au Due qu'il se sentit quasi mourir, Gas- 
 parin reiterant encore sa conjuration, le Diable va repondre : 
 Mon compere, vous avez si bon temps, & je suis bien a mon aise 
 & vous voulez que je me parte d'ici vous me tormentez en vain 
 k ainsi se moquoit du compere, Etant venu Gasparin pour la 
 troisieme fois a le conjurer, en lui demandant beaucoup de choses, 
 & I'appellant toujours compere ne pouvant imaginer qui c'etoit, 
 a la fin il le contraignit de dire quel il etoit. Alors le Diable va 
 repondre : Puis que je suis contraint de dire la verite, & vous 
 manifester qui je suis ; S9achez que je suis Pancrace Stornel, Mari 
 de Silvie Balasrie, ne le s9avez-vous pas bien ? Pensez-vous que 
 je ne vous connoisse ? N'etesvous pas Gasparin Boncy, mon 
 trescher compere ? Ne S9avez vous pas bien combien de triomphe 
 avons fait ensemble ? Helas, mon compere ! repondit Gasparin, 
 que faites-vous ici a tourmenter ce pauvre homme, Je ne le 
 vous veux pas dire, repondit le Diable, allezvous-en je vous prie, 
 & ne me fachez plus ; car je ne me trouverai jamais mieux que 
 je fais a present, Alors Gasparin lui fit tant de conjurations, 
 qu'il fut contraint de raconter par le menu la cause pourquoi 
 
388 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 il s'etoit parti d'avec sa femme, & entre a corps du Due, telle- 
 ment qui Gasparin lui dit comment mon compere, mon ami, ne 
 me voulez-vous pas faire un plaisir. Quel plaisir ? dit le Diable. 
 Otez-vous de ce corps ici, repondit Gasparin, & ne le tourmentez 
 plus. Mon compere, dit le Diable, vous me semblez un grand 
 fol de me demander telles cboses, car je trouve un si grand plaisir 
 ici dedans, que je ne s9aurois imaginer d'avantage. Alors Gas- 
 parin dit, je vous prie par la foi de compere qui est entre nous 
 deux, que me fassiez ce plaisir, pour le present, car si vous ne 
 vous partez d'ici je perdrai la vie ; en ce faisant vous serez cause 
 de ma mort. Le Diable repondit, il n'y a point pour le jour- 
 d'hui de plus mechante & abominable foi que celle d'un com- 
 pere, & si vous en mourez ce sera votre dommage & non pas le 
 mien. Je ne desire autre chose que de vous voir abime au plus 
 profond d'Enfer ; vous deviez etre un peu plus sage, & tenir la 
 langue entre les dents ; car un bon taire ne fut jamais ecrit. 
 Dites-moi a tout le moins, repondit Gasparin, que fut celui qui 
 vous mit en si gi^and travail. Aiez patience, dit le Diable, car 
 je ne puis, & si ne le vous veux pas dire. Otez-vous seulement 
 d'ici, & n'attendez point d'autre reponse de moi. Et ainsi tout 
 depite laissa le pauvre Due plus mort que vif. Mais apres qu'il 
 fut un peu revenu, Gasparin lui dit, Seigneur Due prenez 
 courage, car vous serez bien-tot delivere. Je ne veux autre chose 
 de vous pour le present, sinon que demain au matin vous fassiez 
 venir au Palais, tons les Musiciens & joiieurs d'instrumens, & 
 que toutes les cloches de la ville sonnent, & qu'on tire toute 
 I'artillerie des boullevards, en signe de joie & triomphe, & tant 
 plus il y aura grand bruit, tant plus j'en serai content. Puis 
 laissez faire a moi. 
 
 Le Matin en suivant, Gasparin s'en alia vers le Palais, & 
 commenca a conjurer I'esprit du Due, & cependant qu'il le 
 conjuroit, on commen9a a ouir, trompetes, timbres, tabourins, 
 bassins, cloches, artilleries, & tant de sortes d'instrumens 
 de niusique qui sonnoient en un meme tems, qu'il sembloit 
 quasi que le monde diit riiinor. Or ainsi que Gasparin pour- 
 suivoit sa conjuration, le Diable lui demanda que signifioit 
 telle diversite d'instrumens, & si grande confusion de sons, 
 que jamais il n'avoit oiii. Ne le s5avez-vous pas bien, re- 
 pondit Gasparin. 'Non ! dit le Diable. Est-il possible, repondit 
 Gasparin, parce que nous autres qui sommes envelopez en ce 
 corps humain, ne pouvons s9avoir ni entendre tout, a cause 
 que cette matiere terrienne eft trop grosse, je vous le dirai en 
 peu de paroles, si vous mecoutez sans molester ce pauvre Due ? 
 Dites le moi, je vous prie, dit le Diable, & je vous ecouterai 
 volontiers, vous promettant de ne lui donner point de facherie. 
 Alors Gasparin lui va dire ; sgachez mon compere, mon ami, que 
 le Due voiant que vous ne le voulez-pas laisser, & que ne cessez 
 de le tourmenter, aiant entendu que vous avez laisse votre 
 femme pour le grand toui'ement quelle vous donnoit, il la 
 
BELPHEGOR. 389 
 
 envoie querir, tellement que toute la cite fait fete & triomphe 
 pour sa venue. Ce qu'entendment le Diable, lui va diie : 
 mechant compere, vous etes plus tin & plus ruse que moi ! Ne 
 vous dis-je pas hier qu'on ne trouva jamais compere que fut 
 loial a I'autre. Vous avez ete I'inventeur & celui que la fait 
 venir. Mais j'ai en si grand horreur & ai en si grande haine le 
 nomme de ma fenime, que j'aime mieux demeurer au plus pro- 
 fond d'Enfer que de la voir pres de moi. Au moien dequoi 
 jenie veux partir dici, & m'en aller si loin que vous n'aurez 
 jamais nouvelles de moi. Et aiant dit cela, avec un enflement 
 de gorge, & tournant les yeux en la tete, & autres signes epou- 
 ventables, il se partit du corps du Due ; tellement q'aiant 
 laisse une grande puanteur, le Due fut delivre du tout de cet 
 esprit. Bientot apres, le pauvre Due revint en son premier etat, 
 & recouvra ses forces accoutumees, & ne voulant pas etre ingrat, 
 fit appeller Gasparin & le fit Seigneur d'un fort beau chateau, 
 en lui donnant grande quantite de deniers & serviteurs pour la 
 servir, & en depit des envieux, le bon Gasparin vecut longue- 
 nient en felicite. Et Madame Silvie voiant ses beaux vetemens 
 bagues & anneaux etre convertis en cendre & fumee, mourut 
 bientot apres miserablement & comme desesperee. 
 
 Ce conte fut raconte par le Trevisan, avec grandes merveilles 
 et fut grandement louee, memement pas les hommes avec ris 
 excessifs. Vrai est qu'elle deplut quelque peu aux Dames, telle- 
 ment que Madame oiant les Damoiselles murmurer assez bas, & 
 les continuez ris des hommes, commanda que chacun mit fin a 
 ses propos, que le Trevisan commen^at son Enigme ; lequel sans 
 prendre autre excuse envers les Dames de ce qu'il les avoit si 
 vivement piquees, commen9a son Enigme. 
 
 Enigm^. 
 
 Mes dames nous avons une chose entre nous 
 Belle en perfection si one beautd fut belle, 
 Qui sans langue, sans mains, pieds ni chose telle; 
 Parle, touche, chemine & se montre k tous coups, 
 Sans yeux elle regarde, & nous contemple tous, 
 Ce ne'st qu'entendement, et n'a poiat de cervelle, 
 Elle peut tout sans vous, & vous rien sans icelle, 
 Car de notre puissance elle tient les deux bouts. 
 Toujours elle nous suit, compagnant notre vie, 
 Qui sans son bon secours nous seroit tot ravie, 
 Elle est fifldle, aimant en toute extrdmitid. 
 Des long-tems avant nous, dedans nous elle est nde, 
 Elle ne craiut la raort n'y etant destinee, 
 Ainsi vive elle vit en toute etrernitd. 
 
 L'obscur Enigme raconte par le Trevisan donna bien a rever 
 aux assistans, & chacun mettoit peine en vain de lui bailler la 
 vraie interpretation, tellement que le Trevisan, voiant que leurs 
 opinions etoiant bien eloignees de la verite, dit : Messeigneurs, il 
 
390 BELPHEGUR. 
 
 ne me semble pas convenable de tenir longuement en suspens 
 cette honorable compagnie. Si vous trouvez bon que je vous en 
 die nion opinion, je vous la dirai volontiers, ou bien j'attendrai 
 la resolution de quelque gentil esprit. Tous d'une voix le 
 prierent de I'interpreter, Alors le Trevisan. va dire que son 
 Enigme ne signifioit autre chose, si non Tame immortelle, la- 
 quelle est esprit, & n'a ne tete ni pieds, ni mains, & fait toute 
 operation, & ou elle est jugee, soit au ciel ou a I'Enfer, elle vit 
 eternellement, Cette docte exposition de I'obscur Enigme plut 
 inerveilleusement a toute la notable compagnie. Et pour 
 autant qu'il etoit deja passe une grande partie de la nuit, et que 
 les coqs commen^oient a annoneer le jour ensuivant. Madame 
 fit signe a Viucende qui etoit la derniere en song rang pour 
 diviser en cette seconde nuit, qu'elle dut finir la nuitee avec 
 quelque plaisant conte. JMais elle qui etoit devenue toute 
 vermeille au visage par couleur naturelle quelle avoit, non point 
 par une honte, mais plutot par le couroux, & depit qu'elle avoit 
 concude ce conte auparavant raconte, dit telles paroles contre 
 Trevisan : Seigneur Benoit j'estimois que fussiez plus paisible, 
 & que tiussiez plus le parti des Dames que vous ne faites, mais 
 comme je ne puis comprendre par le conte de vous recite, vous 
 leurs etes fort contraire. Car si que me fait penser que vous vous 
 sentez outrage de quelq'une qui etoit possible trop indiscrette 
 en sa demande. Toutefois encore ne devriez-vous pas si apre- 
 ment blamer les autres, car combien que nous soions forgees 
 d'une matiere, si est-ce qu'on en voit tous les jours, une plus 
 gentille de meilleur esprit que I'autre. Deportez-vous done de 
 plus les blamer en telle maniere. Car si elles vous mettent une 
 fois la dent dessus, vos sons & chants ne vous serviront de rien. 
 Quant a moi, dit le Tre"\dsan, je n'ai point fait cela pour 
 faire tort a la moindre, ni pour me.venger de ses paroles, mais 
 pour instruire les autres qui se mariorant, apres moi, detre plus 
 modestes vers lem's maris. Or bien, quoi qu'il en soit, dit 
 Damoiselle Yincende, je ne m'en soucie gueres, & moins ces 
 autres Dames y presentes. Mais afin qu'il ne semble jDoint que 
 par mon silence je vueille tenir le parti des liommes, & etre 
 contre aux Dames, j'en veux raconter un qui vous donnera 
 grande instruction, & aient fait la reverence, commenga a dire. 
 
II.— THE MARRIAGE OF BELPHEGOR, 
 
 BY 
 
 NICHOLAS MACHIAYEL. 
 
 Of this ancient legend there are two English, versions. The first 
 of these is to he found in the " AYorks of the famous l!^icholas 
 Machiarel, citizen and secretary of Florence, written originally 
 in Italian, and from thence newly and faithfully translated into 
 English." This translation was licensed upon the 2d February 
 1674, and the third edition, "carefully corrected," was printed 
 at London, 1720 — folio. The translator's name is not given, but 
 a curious statement made by Bishop Warburton might induce a 
 belief that it may have been no less a person than the first 
 Marquis of "Wharton, the reputed author of the celebrated 
 political ballad of Lilliburlero. 
 
 The Bishop says, that having had access to the "WTiarton 
 papers, he found the first proof of the translation of the letter 
 said to have been written by ^Slachiavel, — "to Zanobius Buondel- 
 montius in vindication of himself and his writings," — carefully 
 corrected throughout by the Marquis for the original folio 
 edition. It comes immediately before the letter. It is from 
 this version that the tale has been now reprinted. 
 
 Machiavel was at a later date translated by the Eev. Ellis 
 Farneworth, M. A., Vicar of Eosthern, in Cheshire, who also 
 translated the Life of Pope Sixtus V., and Davila's Civil Wars 
 of France. The first work was published at London in 1762, 
 in two volumes 4to. It is now much esteemed, although on the 
 original publication it met with little patronage, and very many 
 copies were disposed of as waste paper, which has made the 
 remaining copies difficult to procure. " Belphegor's Marriage" 
 occurs in the second volume, page 165. The older translation 
 has been selected as the one which we may presume was used 
 by "Wilson. 
 
 According to the Biographie Universelle, Straparola was 
 born towards the end of the fifteenth century, and died after 
 1557 — the year in which the first edition of his tales was given 
 to the public. Machiavel is generally believed to have departed 
 this life in 1530, and it is understood that during his lifetime he 
 was not known as the author of the "Marriage of Belphegor;" 
 This much is certain, that the tale was not included in the 
 edition of his works published 1550. On the other hand. 
 
392 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 Straparola's version of the Devil's Marriage appeared whilst he 
 was in life. Though both tales originate out of the inquiry 
 instituted by his Satanic Majestj'' as to the treatment of hus- 
 bands on earth, they vary considerably in detail ; and it may 
 fairly be assumed that the authors in both instances took their 
 text from some ancient manuscript chronicle or from tradition. 
 
 It is recorded in the ancient Chronicles of Florence, that a 
 certain holy person, whose life was the admiration of that age, 
 falling one day into a trance, had a very strange apparition. 
 It seemed to him that the souls of married men, that came 
 trooping in great numbers to hell, cried out all of them as they 
 passed, that their marriage was the cause of their misery, and 
 their wives the occasion of their coming thither. Minos, Eada- 
 manthus, and the whole infernal privy council were amazed at 
 the clamour. At first they could not believe there was anything 
 in the business ; but at last, observing the same complaints 
 continually multiplied, they thought it fit to make Pluto 
 acquainted. Pluto, understanding the report, without impart- 
 ing anything to his wife (who had taken physic that week, and 
 kept her chamber), resolved tlie matter should be accurately 
 examined, and such course be taken as was likeliest to make 
 the speediest discovery of the truth. He issued out his writs 
 immediately, and assembled his courts. His princes, dukes, 
 counts, and barons were all present — never was senate so full, 
 nor never was affair of that importance before it. The holy 
 father that beheld all affirms positively that Pluto delivered 
 himself in this manner : — 
 
 "Right trusty and well beloved, 
 
 "Though our kingdom was assigned us from heaven, and the 
 fatal decree has anciently determined our dominion ; though 
 that sentence be irrevocable, and above the cognisance of any 
 human power ; yet seeing his prudence is most safe that is 
 dictated by laws, and his judgment most solid that is fortified 
 with others, we are resolved to take your counsels along with 
 us, which way we are to steer in an affair that otherwise may 
 prove in time of great dishonour to our government. The 
 souls of married men, that are continually flocking into our 
 dominions, do unanimously exclaim against their wives as the 
 only persons that send them tumbling hither. To us it seems 
 impossible ; yet, forasmuch as a peremptory and determinate 
 sentence upon their bare allegations Avould not suit with our 
 Satanical mercy, so a careless pretermission on the other side 
 could not be without reflection on our justice. That matters of 
 such importance, therefore, may have their due disquisition, and 
 our administration be defended from obloquy or scandal, — that 
 no inconveniency may follow for want of deliberation, and that 
 
BELPHEGOR. 393 
 
 some better expedient may be found out than ourselves have 
 happily thought on, we have thought good to call you together, 
 being confident and assured, by the assistance of your counsels, 
 the honour and reputation of our empire will be continued as 
 unquestionable for the future as it has been preserved hitherto 
 by our own proper care and solicitude." 
 
 There was not one present but acknowledged it a business 
 of importance, and well worthy an exact consideration. It was 
 the opinion of the whole board that all imaginable means were 
 to be used to find out the truth, but what means these were could 
 not be agreed on. Some were of opinion a single person was to 
 be despatched into this world, and no more ; others judged it 
 better to send several, and that the discovery would be more 
 certain from the experience of many than of one ; and a third 
 sort, more brisk and severe in their counsels, thought that 
 clutter unnecessary, and that clapping good store of them 
 together upon the rack would be enough, doubtless, to extort a 
 confession. However, it was at last carried by the plurality of 
 voices that a single person only should be sent, and in this 
 resolution the whole company acquiesced. Nevertheless, there 
 being nobody found that would voluntarily undertake the 
 employment, it was concluded the election should be by lot ; 
 and at the same time, having made the billets and shuffled 
 them, the lot fell upon Belphegor. 
 
 One may say, and say true, that fortune never decided any- 
 thing so justly, for Belphegor was no ordinary devil ; and Pluto 
 having made him formerly Generalissimo of his armies, 'tis to 
 be presumed he was no novice. For all this, he had a month's 
 mind to be quit of his embassy ; but the order being unalter- 
 able, he was forced to submit, and accept these conditions, that 
 were solemnly decreed : That an hundred thousand ducats should 
 be paid him immediately, to defray the expenses of his journey; 
 that he should assume the shape of a man ; that he should take 
 a woman to his wedded wife, and live with her (if possible) ten 
 years ; that at the end of the term (pretending to die), he should 
 give her the slip, repair immediately to his old quarters, and 
 make affidavit upon his own experience of all the pleasures and 
 calamities of matrimony. It was declared to him also, that 
 during tliis metamorphosis he was to be subject to the pains 
 and misfortunes of humanity, — as sickness, imprisonment, and 
 poverty ; but that, if by his cunning and dexterity he could dis- 
 entangle himself, it should be allowed him, and not imputed as 
 any scandal or reproach. Belphegor accepts the conditions, 
 receives his ducats, and having drawn a spruce party of horse out 
 of his guards, and furnished himself with pages and footmen good 
 store, he set out immediately for this world, and arrived at Flor- 
 ence in a very fair equipage. He chose that place above all other 
 for the conveniency of improving his money, and putting it to in- 
 terest with greater advantage. He called himself Don Roderick (^eW-'^ 
 
394 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 of Castile ; lie took a very noble house in the Fauxbiirg of All- 
 Saiuts, and, that his quality might be undiscovered, he gave out 
 that he was a Spaniard; that being young, he took a voyage into 
 Syria ; that he had dwelt some time in Aleppo, where he had got 
 most part of his estate ; but being weary there, he was come 
 into Italy as a country more agreeable with his humour, with 
 intention (if any fair opportunity was offered) to marry, 
 
 Don Roderick seemed to be a very handsome man, about 
 thirty years of age, and in short time after his arrival he made 
 it evident enough that he was rich, and by his liberality that he 
 knew how to make the best use of his wealth ; insomuch that 
 several gentlemen of Florence that had more daughters than 
 money took all possible pains to insinuate how welcome he 
 should be into their alliance. Don Roderick, that had choice 
 of mistresses, preferred one that was transcendently handsome 
 before them all. The story says she was called Honesta, and was 
 the daughter of Americ Donati, who had three more also to 
 marry, and three sons between twenty and twenty-five years ot 
 age. But though Seigneur Americ was of one of the noblest 
 families of Florence, yet he was looked upon as down the wind, 
 and one that was overlaid with too many children, and the un- 
 avoidable charges of his nobility. But Don Roderick took an 
 order for that, defraying the whole expense of his wedding out 
 of his own purse, managing all things with that splendour and 
 magnificence that there was nothing omitted that was desirable 
 upon such an occasion. It was mentioned before, as one of the 
 conditions proposed to Belphegor, that as soon as he was out of 
 the infernal dominions he should be subject to all the passions 
 of mankind ; and accordingly, he began immediately to take 
 delight in the honours and gallantry of the world, and, as 
 cunning a devil as he was, to be wheedled with the flatteries 
 and applauses of men. But that which delighted him so much 
 cost him dear. Besides that, he had not been long with Honesta 
 but he fell stark mad in love with her ; and finding something 
 or other extraordinary in her that I cannot think of, he was so 
 far enamoured he never thought himself happy before ; inso- 
 much as, when she was melancholy or out of humour, he would 
 curse his commission, and take his corporal oath his very life 
 was tedious. On the other side, it was not to be forgot that 
 Honesta, marrying Roderick, and bringing him beauty and 
 nobility instead of a portion, she thought it not fit to leave her 
 pride and untractableness behind her. These two good qualities 
 were so eminently in her, that Roderick, who had been used to 
 Lucifer's, and had more than once experienced it, swore point- 
 blank his wife's insolence was beyond it. For when she once 
 found the fondness and passion her husband had for her, 
 believing she could manage him with a switch, and order him 
 as she pleased, she carried herself like his sovereign, and 
 handled him without pity or respect ; and if it happened he 
 
BELPHEGOR. 395 
 
 denied her anything, she gave him immediately to understand 
 that she was also as eloquent in scolding as others of her quality. 
 By this you may judge what a cooler this was to Don Roderick ; 
 nevertheless, the consideration of his father-in-law, his wife's 
 brothers, the kindred he had by that blessed marriage, but 
 above all, the passion and tenderness he had for her, made him 
 endure all patiently. I shall not mention the expense of her 
 clothes, which, though never so rich, he was forced to change 
 every Aveek, according to the ordinary vanity of the ladies in 
 Florence. Besides these, there were other things of no less 
 inconvenience. He was forced (to preserve the peace) to assist 
 his father-in-law in the marriage of his other daughters, which 
 cost him a good round sum. Moreover, that all things might 
 go well, and his correspondence continue with his comfort, he 
 was glad to send one of her brothers into the Levant with 
 woollen stuffs, another into France and Spain Avith silks, and 
 to furnish the third with wherewithal to set up a goldsmith's 
 shop in Florence. All which afflictions together were sufficient 
 to discompose any devil of a thousand, yet he had other thrown 
 into the bargain. There is not any town in all Italy more 
 extravagant in their expenses in their carnivals and feasts of St. 
 John than Florence ; and Honesta upon that occasion must 
 needs have her Eoderick outdo all people of his rank, in the 
 sumptuousness of his entertainments, in the magnificence of his 
 balls, and other divertisements that are usual at those times. 
 He suffered all these calamities for the same reasons he endured 
 the rest ; and though, perhaps, these difficulties were very hard 
 and unpleasant, he would have thought them supportable 
 could he have been satisfied his patience would have procured 
 any quietness in his family, and that he might have peaceably 
 awaited the hour of his destruction. But Don Roderick found 
 the clear contrary. Besides the expense she occasioned, her 
 insolence was accompanied with a thousand other inconveni- 
 ences, insomuch as he could keep neither man nor maid servant 
 in his house above three days together. This was severe trouble 
 to him, to find it was impossible for him to keep anybody about 
 him, though never so well experienced or affected to his affairs ; 
 nor indeed could anybody blame them for taking their leaves, 
 when the devils themselves that he brought along with him 
 did choose rather to return, and toast the laottoms of their feet 
 against the fire of hell, than live in this world under the 
 dominion of so super-devilish a woman. 
 
 Roderick's life being thus miserably uncomfortable, and the 
 stock that he had reserved exhausted by her extravagant ex- 
 penses, he was reduced to that pass he subsisted only upon the 
 hopes of the advantage he should make by the return of some 
 vessels he had sent into the east and west. Having very good 
 credit in that town, he resolved to keep up his rank, and 
 borrowed money of such as are used in that place to put it out ; 
 
396 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 but tliose kind of people being sucb as are not usually sleepy 
 or negligent in their aflfairs, they took notice immediately he 
 was not over-punctual to his day. His purse being already 
 empty, and he reduced to the highest extremity, at one dash he 
 receives news of two as disastrous accidents as could possibly 
 befall him. The first was, that one of Honesta's brothers had 
 lost at hazard, all that Roderick had intrusted in his hands ; 
 and the other, that his other brother-in-law, returning into 
 Italy, was himself cast away and all his goods. The business 
 was no sooner known in Florence but his creditors had a meet- 
 ing, where, giving him over for one that was irrecoverably lost, 
 and not daring to discover themselves because the time of pay- 
 ment was not yet come, they concluded he was to be watched 
 very close, lest he should chouse them and show them a light 
 pair of heels. 
 
 Don Rodei-ick of Castile, on the other side, considering with 
 himself his affairs were past remedy, resolves to take horse and 
 depart without any more ado, which he performed without nmch 
 difficulty, living conveniently for that by the Port del Prato. 
 Yet he was no sooner marched off but the alarm was taken by 
 his creditors. They repair immediately to the magistrates, and 
 pursue him not only with post and officers, but, lest a certain 
 number of ducats should debauch that kind of cattle, who are 
 no better in Italy than other places, and prevail with them for 
 an abatement of their speed, they follow him themselves in 
 a full body, with impatience of hearing some tidings of him. 
 Roderick in the meantime was no fool, but considered very well 
 what he had to do. As soon as he was galloped about half a 
 league from the town, he leaves the highway and his horse with 
 it (the country being inclosed and full of ditches on both sides), 
 and was forced to make the rest of his journey on foot, which 
 he did very successfully ; for, wandering up and down under the 
 shelter of the vines and reeds that abound much in those parts, 
 he arrived at last at Peretola, at the house of Jean Matteo del 
 Bricca, bailie to Jean del Bene. 
 
 By good fortune he meets Matteo carrying fodder to his 
 cattle. He accosts Mm immediately, and promises him, as he 
 was a gentleman, that if he Avould deliver him from the catch- 
 poles that were in pursuit of him with design to claj) him up 
 and starve him in prison, he had an invention in his pate would 
 make him rich out of hand, and of this he would give such 
 evidence before he departed as should assure him of his truth 
 and fidelity. "And if I do not," says he, with a damn'd impre- 
 cation, " I will be content to be delivered up into thsir clutches 
 that persecute me." Now you must understand that though 
 Matteo was a hind and a peasant, yet the fellow had cunning 
 enough, and knew on which side his bread was buttered. He 
 considered, if he undertook him, and miscarried, he had nothing 
 to lose, and that if he sacceeded he should be made for ever. 
 
BELPHEGOR. 397 
 
 Without any more ado, therefore, he promises him protection, 
 and clapping him close upon a dunghill that -svas before the 
 gate, he covered himself over with brush-faggots and reeds, and 
 such other fuel as lay there in readiness for the fire. And, in- 
 deed, he "was no sooner in his retirement but in came the 
 creditors with full cry. They swaggered and laid about them 
 like lords, but all to no purpose, Matteo could not be persuaded 
 to confess so much as he saw him ; insomuch as, marching on 
 still in the pursuit, but with as little success as they came 
 thither, thej gave Roderick and their money over for lost, and 
 returned to Florence every jot as wise as they were before. 
 The coast being clear in this manner, and the alarm over, 
 Matteo steals to the place where he had left Eodeiick, gives 
 him a little fresh air, and conjures him to be as good as his 
 word, Roderick was very honest in that point, and I dare say 
 never any devil, as to matters of gratitude, had more of a gentle- 
 man. He gave him thanks for the great obligation he had 
 received ; he swore over and over again he would do whatever 
 lay in his power to discharge himself of his promise ; and in the 
 heat and height of his compliments, to convince him he meant 
 as he said, he gives him the whole story as you have had it, 
 and at last told him the very way he had pitched upon to make 
 him a prince, " Know then, " says he, "that whenever you hear 
 of any lady that is possessed, 'tis no other devil but I that have 
 possessed her, and be sure I will never leave her till you come 
 yourself and force me from my quarters ; after which you have 
 wit enough to make your own terms for your payment. " They 
 had very few words more ; he only gave him the summerset 
 once or twice, and showed him two or three juggling tricks, and 
 vanished. 
 
 Awhile after, there was a great noise about the town that 
 Ambrosio Amidei's daughter, that was married to Bonaculo 
 Thebalducci's son, was possessed. Her father and mother did 
 not fail to use all the remedies are usual in so deplorable a 
 case. They brought before her St. Zanobi's head and St. J. 
 Gaulbert's cloak, which was nuts to Belphegor, and made 
 him do nothing but laugh. There was nobody in her but 
 Don Roderick de Castile, who was as ingenious a gentleman 
 de\'il as one would wish ; and that the world might take notice 
 that this was no fantastic imagination, nor fit of the nightmare, 
 nor any such trifle, but that she was really possessed, she spake 
 Latin better than TuUy ever writ, disputed in philosophy, and 
 discovered the secrets and sins of several people that were there, 
 who were very much surprised to find the devil concern himself 
 with those kind of aft'airs. 
 
 Amongst the rest was one holy father he did great dis- 
 courtesy to, in blurting out before the whole company as if he 
 had kept a young lass four years together in his cell in the 
 habit of a young monk ; and after all this, let anybody judge 
 
398 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 whether the possession was not like to be true. Ambrosio, in 
 the meantime, was in great affliction for his daughter. He had 
 tried all the ways that physic or religion could propose, but to 
 no purpose, so as he was brought to the highest point of 
 despair when Matteo came to him, and undertook to cure his 
 daughter if he would give him five hundred florins, which he 
 designed to lay out in land at Peretola. In short, Matteo was 
 an honest fellow, and would have done the miracle gratis, and 
 like a gentleman, but his pockets were hollow, and he had great 
 occasion for money at that time. Seignior Ambrosio accepts the 
 conditions, and Matteo falls to work. He began very civilly, 
 with certain masses and other ceremonies, that he might appear 
 the more formal in the business. At length he stole to the lady's 
 ear, calls Roderick, and tells him he was come thither to him, 
 and did require him to be as good as his word. "Content," 
 says Roderick ; "and that you may see I shall deal with you like 
 a person of quality, take notice, that because this expedition is 
 not enough to enrich you and do your business, I will befriend 
 you more than once ; for Avhich reason, as soon as I am departed 
 from hence, away 1 11 march into the daughter of Charles, King 
 of Naples ; and don't fear but I'll stick to her till you come to 
 exorcise me, so as there you may make up your markets at a 
 blow, and become considerable for ever. But be sure after that 
 I be troubled with you no more." And as soon as he had said 
 so, he whipped out of the lady, and was gone, to the great joy 
 and astonishment of the whole town. 
 
 Belphegor in the meantime was as good as his word. As he 
 promised Matteo, away he goes, and in two or three days' time 
 it was all over Italy that the daughter of Charles, King of i^aples, 
 was in the same condition, which was good news for Matteo, who 
 was at this bout to gain the philosopher's stone. The king 
 tried all means possible : the monks went to work with their 
 praj^ers and their crosses, but to no purpose; the devil would 
 not budge till Matteo came himself, who had formerly obliged 
 him. The king had news of what had happened at Florence, 
 and sends away immediately for Matteo to his court, who came 
 accordingly, and after some few ceremonious formalities, counter- 
 feited for concealment of the mystery, he cures his daughter. 
 However, Roderick, before his departure, as is reported in the 
 chronicle, accosted him in this manner : ' ' You see, Matteo, I 
 have been as good as my word ; you see you are become rich in 
 a trice, and may take your ease for the future, so as, if I be not 
 mistaken, I have discharged myself as to you very honestly. 
 Hereafter have a care how you come near me, for as hitherto I 
 have done you knight service, henceforward I will do you as 
 much mischief as I can. " Matteo, being returned to Florence 
 very wealthy (for the King of Naples had given him above five 
 thousand ducats), he thought of nothing now but enjoying that 
 peaceably he had got, never imagining Roderick would do him 
 
BELPHEGOR. 399 
 
 any harm ; but his designs were much frustrated by a report out 
 of France that Lewis the Seventh's daughter was possessed in 
 the same way as the daughter of the King of Naples had been. 
 Matteo was not ignorant of the power of Lewis ; on the other, 
 he remembered Roderick's last words. The king used all means 
 possible, but without any success. He was told what feats Matteo 
 had done, and despatched a post to him immediately, to desire 
 his company at Paris ; but Matteo, pretending indispositions, 
 that rendered him incapable of serving his majesty, the king 
 was forced to write to the magistrates, who sent away Matteo 
 immediately. 
 
 Being arrived at Paris, he was in great affliction, because he 
 knew not which Avay for his life to perform what was expected 
 from him. At last he goes to the king, and tells him that true 
 it was indeed he had formerly wrought some cures in that kind, 
 but that it was not in reason to be expected he could dispossess 
 all people he met with, seeing there were some devils so re- 
 fractory and cross-grained, neither threats, nor enchantments, 
 nor devotion itself would do any good on. That he said not 
 this out of any repugnancy or unwillingness to do as he was 
 desired, but that in case his endeavours were ineffectual he 
 might have his majesty's pardon. The king was stark mad at 
 the story, and told him in plain terms, if he did not rout the 
 devil out of his daughter, as he had done out of others, he 
 would hang him forthwith, for he saw no reason why miracles 
 were not as feasible at Paris as at Florence and Naples. These 
 words touched Matteo to the quick ; he thought there was no 
 pleasure to be taken in being hanged in that manner, and that 
 what the king had said was without any equivocation. How- 
 ever, he recollected himself a little, or at least pretended so, 
 and calling for the princess that was possessed, he makes his 
 approaches, and whispering her in the ear, told Roderick he 
 was his very humble servant, and put him in mind of the good 
 office he had done him, when he delivered him out of the 
 talons of the law ; adding, withal, that if he left him in the 
 lurcli in the extremity of danger he was then in, the whole 
 world would cry out on his ingratitude. Roderick heard him 
 with no more patience than needs must ; he swaggers, swears, 
 storms, and lays about him like a devil in good earnest, gives 
 him a thousand and a thousand ill words, but they could dis- 
 tinguish only these few at the last : ** How, now, you rascally 
 traitor, have you the impudence to come near me again ? Have 
 you forgot it was I that made you your fortune? But I'll make 
 all the world see, and you too, with a pox to you, that I can 
 take away as well as give ; besides which, you shall not fail to 
 be hanged before I get away from Paris. " 
 
 Poor Matteo, seeing no other remedy for his misfortunes, 
 lie fell athinking some other way ; and having sent back the 
 lady to her chamber, he made this speech to the king : " Sir, I 
 
400 BELPHEGOR. 
 
 have told you before that there are certain ill-natured, capricious 
 spirits one knows not which way to deal withal, and of this 
 sort is that which possesses your daughter. If what we shall 
 administer might be sufficient, your majesty should be happy in 
 your desire, and mine also ; but if things prove otherwise, and 
 your majesty be not satisfied with my endeavours, I shall sub- 
 mit, and your majesty may deal with me as I deserve. In the 
 meantime, I desire your majesty would give order a theatre be 
 erected in the church-yard of Notre Dame, big enough to 
 receive all the nobility and clergy in the town. Let this 
 theatre, if your majesty think good, be hung with cloth of 
 gold and other rich stuffs, and an altar set up in the middle on 
 Sunday next. I would desire your majesty to be there, with all 
 the princes and nobility in Paris ; and after a grand mass is 
 sung, let the princess be brought also. Besides this, it is 
 necessary there should be twenty persons at least, with trumpets, 
 horns, drums, hoboys, and cymbals, ready in some byplace, 
 when I throw up my cap into the air, to advance towards the 
 theatre with all the noise they can make ; which music, with 
 some other ingredients that I have, will send the devil packing 
 from the princess." The king gave order all things should be 
 done as Matteo requested, and Sunday being come, and the 
 theatre thronged with a multitude of persons of quality, and 
 the chiu'ch-yard of Notre Dame full of people, the princess was 
 led in by two bishops, and followed by several lords of the 
 court. Roderick was in a terrible amaze to behold so magni- 
 ficent a prej^aration, and pondering with himself, was overheard 
 to pronounce these words : '* I would fain know what this rascally 
 peasant means to do. I have i^een many places — I have more 
 than once seen the whole pomp of heaven, nor am I ignorant of 
 what is most formidable in hell, yet can I not tell what to 
 make of this ; but I'll handle him like a rogue as he is, and if I 
 fail, Pluto requite me." Matteo came up close to him, and 
 desired him very civilly to depart ; but Roderick cried out, "Oh, 
 the wondrous cunning that is in you ! Do you think by this 
 whimsey to save yourself from my power and the indignation 
 of the king ? But think what you will, you scoundrel, I am 
 resolved you shall hang for it, or else let me pass for the most 
 miserable, poor-spirited devil in the world. " Matteo persisted in 
 his request, but Belphegor gave him worse language than before. 
 But all that frighted not Matteo ; for without losing more 
 time, he threw his hat up in the air, and at an instant the 
 trumpets, horns, and all the rest of the music struck up and 
 advanced towards the theatre. Roderick was startled at the 
 noise, and made it manifest that there are some devils as fearful 
 as men ; and not able to imagine the reason, he called out to 
 Matteo, and asked what was the matter? Matteo, being a 
 cunning rogue every inch of him, as if he had been terribly 
 frighted, informs him thus : "Alas ! poor Roderick," says he, 
 
BELPHEGOR. 401 
 
 '* 'tis your wife Honesta is come to seek you at Paris." He said 
 no more, but it is not to be imagined what disorder these four 
 or five words put the devil into : they took away his wit and 
 judgment, so as, without any consideration whether the news 
 was possible or not, without speaking one word, away he stole 
 from the princess, choosing rather to go back into hell, and give 
 up Jiis accounts there, than to return again into the thraldom of 
 matrimony, that had already cost him so many sorrows and 
 dangers. As soon as he arrived, he demanded audience, and in 
 the presence of Pluto, ^acus, Minos, and Eadamanthus, all of 
 them councillors of state, he declared that the souls of men 
 were in the right on it, and that 'twas their wives that sent 
 them to hell. 
 
 Matteo, who had been too crafty for the devil, returned to 
 Florence in great triumph. The Chronicle mentions not any 
 great matter the king gave him, but it says, that having gained 
 sufficiently by the two former, he esteemed himself very happy 
 that he had escaped hanging in Paris, 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 2 C 
 
MURRAY AND GIBB, EDINBURGH, 
 PRINTERS TO HER MAJESTX'S STATIONERY OFFICE.