Rut, Interest, Item, Needle.
Rut. 'Tis such a Fly, this Gossip, with her buz,
She blows on every thing, in every place!
Int. A busie Woman is a fearful grievance!
Will he not sleep again?
Rut. Yes, instantly,
As soon as he is warm. It is the nature
Of the Disease, and all these cold dry fumes,
That are melancholick, to work at first,
Slow, and insensibly in their ascent,
Till being got up, and then distilling down
Upo' the Brain; they have a pricking quality
That breeds this restless rest, which we, the Sons
Of Physick, call a walking in the sleep,
And telling mysteries, that must be heard
Softly, with art, as we were sweing Pillows
Under the Patients Elbows, else they'd fly
Into a phrensie, run into the Woods,
Where there are noises, huntings, shoutings, hallowings,
Amidst the Brakes, and Furzes, over Bridges,
Fall into Waters, scratch their Flesh, sometimes
Drop down a Praecipice, and there be lost.
How now! what does her?
Ite. He is up again,
And 'gins to talk.
Int. O' the former matter, Item?
Ite. The Treasure, and the Lady: That's his argument.
Int. O me, happy Man! he cannot off it.
I shall know all then.
Rut. With what appetite
Our own desires delude us! Hear you Tim?
Let no Man interrupt us.
Ite. Sir Diaphanous,
And Mr. Bias, his Court-friend's, desire
To kiss his Nieces Hands, and gratulate
The firm recovery of her good fame,
And honour --
Int. Good, say to 'em, Mr. Item,
My Niece is, on my ladies side: they'll find her there.
I pray to be but spar'd, for half an hour:
I'll see 'em presently.
Rut. Do, put 'em off, Tim.
And tell 'em the importance of the business.
Here, he is come! sooth; and have all out of him.
Nee. How do you, Lady-bird? so hard at work, still?
What's that you say? do you bid me walk, sweet Bird?
And tell our knight? I will. How? walk Knave, walk?
I think y' are angry with me, Pol. Fine Pol!
Pol's a fine Bird! O fine, Lady Pol!
Almond for Parrat; Parrat's a brave Bird:
Three hundred thousand Pieces ha' you stuck
Edg-long into the Ground, withing the Garden?
O' bounteous Bird!
Int. And me, most happy creature.
Rut. Smoother your joy.
Nee. How? and dropp'd twice so many --
Int. Ha! where?
Rut. Contain your self.
Nee. I' the old Well?
Int. i cannot, I am a Man of Flesh, and Blood:
Who can contain himself, to hear the Ghost
Of a dead Lady, do such works as these?
And a City Lady too, o' the strait Waste?
Rut. He's gone.
Nee. I will go try the truth of it.
Rut. Follow him, Tim: see what he does; if he bring you
A 'ssay of it now.
Int. I'll say he's a rare Fellow:
And has a rare Disease.
Rut. And I will work
As rare a cure upon him.
Int. How, good Doctor?
Rut. When he hath utter'd all, that you would know of him;
I'll cleanse him with a Pill (as small as a Pease)
And stop his Mouth: for there his Issue lies,
Between the Muscles o' the tongue.
Int. He's come.
Rut. What did he, Item?
Ite. The first step he stept
Into the Garden, he pull'd these five Pieces
Up, in a Fingers breadth one of another.
The Dirt sticks on 'em still.
Int. I know enough.
Doctor, proceed with your cure, I'll make thee famous,
Famous among the Sons of the Pyshicians,
Machaon,podalirius, Esculapius.
Thou shalt have a golden Beard, as well as he had;
And thy Tim Item here, have one of Silver:
A livery Beard. And all thy 'Pothecaries
Belong to thee. Where's Squire Needle? gone?
Ite. He's prick'd away, now he has done the work.
Rut. Prepare his Pill, and gi'it him afore Supper.
Int. I'll send for a dozen o' Labourers to morrow,
To turn the surface o' the Garden up.
Rut. In Mold? bruise every
Clod?
Int. And have all sifted;
For I'll not lose a piece o' the Birds bounty,
And take an Inventory of all.
Rut. And then,
I would go down into the Well --
Int. My self;
No trusting other hands: Six hundred thousand,
To the first three; nine hundred thousand Pound. --
Rut. ' Twill purchase the whole Bench of Aldermanity,
Stript to their Shirts.
Int. There never did accrew
So great a gift to man, and from a Lady,
I never saw but once; now I remember,
We met at Merchant-Taylors-hall, at dinner,
In thread-Needle-street.
Rut. Which was a sign Squire Needle
Should have the threading of this Thread.
Int. 'Tis true;
I shall love Parrots better, while I know him.
Rut. I'd have her Statue cut, now in white Marble.
Int. And have it painted in most Orient Colours.
Rut. That's right! all City Statues must be painted,
Else they be worth nought i' their subtile Judgements.