Everill, Plutarchus, Guilt-head, Mere-craft, Fitz-dottrel.
O, Are you here, Sir? 'pray you let us whisper.
Plu.
Father, dear Father, trust him if you love me.
Gui.
Why, I do mean it, Boy; but, what I do,
Must not come easily from me: We must deal
With Courtiers, Boy, as Courtiers deal with us.
If I have a Business there, with any of them,
Why, I must wait, I'am sure on't, Son: and though
My Lord dispatch me, yet his worshipful Man ——
Will keep me for his sport, a Month, or two,
To shew me with my fellow Citizens.
I must make his Train long, and full, one quarter;
And help the spectacle of his greatness. There,
Nothing is done at once, but injuries, Boy:
And they come head-long! all their good turns move not,
Or very slowly.
Plu.
Yet sweet Father, trust him.
Gui.
Well, I will think.
Ever.
Come, you must do't, Sir.
I'am undone else, and your Lady Tail-bush.
Has sent for me to dinner, and my Cloaths
Are all at pawn. I had sent out this morning,
Before I heard you were come to Town, some twenty
Of my Epistles, and no one return —
[Mere-craft tells him of his faults.
Mer.
Why, I ha' told you o' this. This comes of
wearing
Scarlet, Gold-lace, and Cut-works! your fine Gartring!
With your blown Roses, Cousin! and your eating
Pheasant, and Godwit, here in London! haunting
The Globes, and Mermaides! wedging in with Lords,
Still at the Table! and affecting Lechery,
In Velvet! where could you ha' contented your self
With Cheese, salt Butter, and a pickled Herring,
I' the Low-countries; there worn Cloth, and Fustian!
Been satisfied with a leap o' your Host's Daughter,
In Garison, a Wench of a Stoter or,
Your Sutlers Wife, i' the Leaguer, of two Blanks!
You never then had run upon this flat,
To write your Letters missive, and send out
Your privy Seals, that thus have frighted off
All your acquaintance; that they shun you at distance,
Worse than you do the Bailies!
Ever.
Pox upon you,
I come not to you for Counsel, I lack Money.
[He repines.
Mer.
You do not think, what you owe me already.
Ever.
I?
They owe you, that mean to pay you. I'll besworn
I never meant it. Come, you will project,
I shall undo your practice, for this Month else:
[And threatens him.
You know me.
Mer.
I, yo' are a right sweet nature!
Ever.
Well, that's all one!
Mer.
You'll leave this Empire one day?
You will not ever have this Tribute paid,
Your Scepter o' the Sword?
Ever.
Tie up your wit,
Do, and provoke me not ——
Mer.
Will you, Sir, help
To what I shall provoke another for you?
Ever.
I cannot tell; try me: I think I am not
So utterly, of an ore un-to-be-melted,
[They join.
But I can do my self good, on occasions.
Mer.
Strike in then, for your part, Mr. Fitz-dottrel,
If I transgress in point of Manners, afford me
Your best construction; I must beg my freedom
From your affairs, this day.
Fit.
How, Sir.
Mer. It is
In succour of this Gentlemans occasions,
[Mere-craft pretends business.
My Kinsman ——
Fit.
You'll not do me that affront, Sir.
Mer.
I am sorry you should so interpret it,
But, Sir, it stands upon his being invested
In a new Office, he has stood for, long:
[Mere-craft describes the Office of Dependancy.
Master
of the Dependances! A place
Of my projection too, Sir, and hath met
Much opposition; but the State, now, see's
That great necessity of it, as after all
Their writing, and their speaking, against Duels,
They have erected it. His Book is drawn ——
For, since, there will be differences daily,
'Twixt Gentlemen; and that the roaring manner
Is grown offensive; that those few, we call
The civil Men o' the Sword, abhor the Vapours;
They shall refer now, hither, for their Process;
And such as trespass 'gainst the Rule of Court,
Are to be fin'd —
Fit.
In troth, a pretty place!
Mer.
A kind of Arbitrary Court 'twill be, Sir.
Fit.
I shall have matter for it, I believe,
Ere it be long: I had a distaste.
Mer.
But now, Sir,
My learned Counsel, they must have a feeling,
They'll part, Sir, with no Books, without the Hand-gout
Be oil'd; and I must furnish. If 't be Money,
To me straight. I am Mine, Mint and Exchequer,
To supply all. What is't? a hundred Pound?
Ever.
No, th' Harpey, now, stands on a hundred Pieces.
Mer.
Why, he must have 'em, if he will. To mor-
row, Sir,
Will equally serve your occasion's, ———
And therefore, let me obtain, that you will yield
To timing a poor Gentlemans distresses,
In terms of hazard. —
Fit.
By no means!
Mer.
I must
Get him this Money, and will. ——
Fit.
Sir, I protest,
I'd rather stand engag'd for it my self:
Then you should leave me.
Mer.
O good Sir, do you think
So coursly of our manners, that we would,
For any need of ours, be prest to take it:
Though you be pleas'd to offer it.
Fit.
Why, by Heaven,
I mean it!
Mer.
I can never believe less.
But we, Sir, must preserve our Dignity,
As you do publish yours. By your fair leave, Sir.
[He offers to be gone.
Fit.
As I am a Gentleman, if you do offer
To leave me now, or if you do refuse me,
I will not think you love me.
Mer.
Sir, I honour you.
And with just reason, for these noble Notes,
Of the Nobility, you pretend too! But, Sir —
I would know, why? a motive (he a stranger)
You should do this?
(Ever.
You'll mar all with your fineness)
Fit.
Why, that's all one, if 'twere, Sir, but my fancy.
But I have a Business, that perhaps I'd have
Brought to his Office.
Mer.
O, Sir! I have done, then;
If he can be made profitable to you.
Fit.
Yes, and it shall be one of my ambitions
To have it the first Business? May I not?
Ever.
So you do mean to make't a perfect Business.
Fit.
Nay, I'll do that, assure you: shew me once.
Mer.
Sir, it concerns, the first be a perfect Business,
For his own Honour!
Ever.
I, and th' Reputation
Too, of my Place.
Fit.
Why, why do I take this course, else?
I am not altogether an Ass, good Gentlemen,
Wherefore should I consult you? do you think, |
To make a Song on't? How's your manner? tell us.
Mer.
Do, satisfie him: give him the whole course.
Ever.
First, by request, or otherwise, you offer
Your Business to the Court wherein you crave;
The judgment of the Master and the Assistants.
Fit.
Well, that's done, now, what do you upon it?
Ever.
We straight, Sir, have recourse to the Spring-
head;
Visit the Ground; and, so disclose the nature:
If it will carry, or no. If we do find,
By our proportions, it is like to prove
A sullen, and black Bus'ness, that it be
Incorrigible, and out of treaty; then,
We file it, a Dependance!
Fit.
So 'tis fil'd.
What follows? I do love the order of these things.
Ever.
We then advise the party, if he be
A Man of Means, and Havings, that forth-with
He settle his Estate: if not, at least
That he pretend it. For, by that, the World
Takes notice, that it now is a Dependance.
And this we call, Sir, Publication.
Fit.
Very sufficient! After Publication, now?
Ever.
Then we grant out our Process, which is divers;
Either by Chartel, Sir, or Ore-tenus,
Wherein the Challenger, and Challengee,
Or (with your Spaniard) your Provocador,
And Provocado, have their several courses —
Fit.
I have enough on't! for an hundred Pieces?
Yes, for two hundred, under-write me, do.
Your Man will take my Bond?
Mer.
That he will, sure;
But, these same Citizens, they are such sharks!
There's an old Debt of forty, I ga' my word
For one is run away, to the Bermudas,
And he will hook in that, or he wi' not do.
[He whispers Fitz-dottrel aside.
Fit.
Why, let him. That and the Ring, and a hun-
dred Pieces,
Will all but make two hundred?
Mer.
No, no more, Sir.
What ready Arithmetick you have? do you hear?
[And then Guilt-head.
A pretty mornings work for you, this! Do it,
You shall ha' twenty Pound on't.
Gui.
Twenty Pieces?
(Plu.
Good Father, do't.)
Mer.
You will hook still? well,
Shew us your Ring. You could not ha' done this, now
With gentleness, at first, we might ha' thank'd you;
But groan, and ha' your courtesies come from you
Like a hard stool, and stink. A Man may draw
Your Teeth out easier than your Money. Come,
Were little Guilt-head here, no better a nature,
I should ne'r love him, that could pull his Lips off, now!
[He pulls Plutarchus by the Lips.
Was not thy Mother a Gentlewoman?
Plu.
Yes, Sir.
Mer.
And went to the Court at Christmas, and St. Georges-
tide?
And lent the Lords-men Chains!
Plu.
Of Gold and Pearl, Sir.
Mer.
I knew thou must take after some body!
Thou could'st not be else. This was no Shop-look!
I'll ha' thee Captain Guilt-head, and march up,
And take in Pimlico, and kill the Bush
At every Tavern! Thou shalt have a Wife,
If Smocks will mount, Boy. How now? you ha' there
now
Some Bristo-stone, or Cornish counterfeit
[He turns to old Guilt-head.
You'ld put upon us.
Gui.
No, Sir, I assure you.
Look on his luster! he will speak himself!
I'll gi' you leave to put him i' the Mill,
H' is no great, large Stone, but a true Paragon,
H' has all his Corners, view him well.
Mer.
H' is yellow.
Gui.
Upo' my faith, Sir, o' the right black-water,
And very deep! H'is set without a foil, too.
Here's one o' the Yellow-water, I'll sell cheap.
Mer.
And what do you value this at? thirty Pound?
Gui.
No, Sir, he cost me forty, ere he was set.
Mer.
Turnings, you mean? I know your Equivocks:
You'are grown the better Fathers of 'em o' late.
Well, where't must go, 'twill be judg'd, and therefore,
Look you't be right. You shall have fifty Pound for't.
[Now to Fitz-dottrel.
Not a Deneer more! And because you would
Have things dispatch'd, Sir, I'll go presently,
Inquire out this Lady. If you think good, Sir.
Having an hundred Pieces ready, you may
Part with those now, to serve my Kinsmans turns,
That he may wait upon you anon, the freer;
And take 'em when you ha' seal'd again, of Guilt-head.
Fit.
I care not if I do!
Mer. And dispatch all
Together.
Fit.
There, th'are just; a hundred Pieces!
I' ha' told 'em over twice a day these two Months.
[He turns 'em out together: And Everill
and he fall to share.
Mer.
Well, go and seal then, Sir, make your return
As speedy as you can.
Ever.
Come, gi' me.
Mer.
Soft, Sir.
Ever.
Marry, and fair too, then, I'll no delaying, Sir.
Mer.
But you will hear?
Ever.
Yes, when I have my Divident.
Mer.
There's forty Pieces for you.
Ever.
What is this for?
Mer.
Your half. You know, that Guilt-head must ha'
twenty.
Ever.
And what's your Ring there? shall I ha' none
o' that?
Mer.
O, that's to be given to a Lady!
Ever.
Is't so?
Mer.
By that good light, it is.
Ever.
Come, gi' me
Ten Pieces more, then.
Mer.
Why?
Ever.
For Guilt-head? Sir,
Do' you think, I'll allow him any such share?
Mer.
You must.
Ever.
Must I? Do your musts, Sir, I'll do mine;
You wi' not part with the whole, Sir, will you? Go too.
Gi' me ten Pieces!
Mer.
By what Law do you this?
Ever.
E'en Lyon-law, Sir, I must roar else.
Mer.
Good!
Ever.
Yo' have heard how th' Ass made his divisions
wisely?
Mer.
And I am he: I thank you.
Ever.
Much good do you, Sir.
Mer.
I shall be rid o' this Tyranny one day.
Ever.
Not
While you do eat, and lie about the Town here,
And cozen i' your Bullions; and I stand
Your name of Credit, and compound your business;
Adjourn your beatings every Term, and make
New Parties for your projects. I have now
A pretty task of it, to hold you in
Wi' your Lady Tail bush: but the toy will be,
How we shall both come off?
Mer.
Leave you your doubting,
And do your portion, what's assign'd you: I
Never fail'd yet.
Eve.
With reference to your aids?
You'll still be unthankful. Where shall I meet you, anon?
You ha' some feat to do alone, now, I see;
You wish me gone, well, I will find you out,
And bring you after to the Audit.
Mer.
'Slight!
There's Ingine's share too, I had forgot! This Reign
Is too-too-unsupportable! I must
Quit my self of this Vassalage! Ingine! welcome.