SNAP

A poor distressed boy Sir, Friendless and comfortless, that would entreat Some charity and kindness from your worship, I would feign serve Sir, and as feign endeavour With duteous labour to deserve the love Of that good Gentleman shall entertain me. I can learn any thing That's good and honest, and shall please Master. I would not willingly. Do you love such boys, Sir? Do you speak this seriously? Would you have your Boy Sir Read in these moral mischiefs? And be a well trained youth in all activities? Or do you this to try me, Fearing a proneness. Then take me Sir, and cherish me and love me; You have me what you would: believe me Sir I can do any thing for your advantage, I guess at what you mean; I can lie naturally, As easily, as I can sleep Sir, and securely: As naturally I can steal too. Steal any thing from any body living. A rich man, that Like snow, heaps up his moneys I have a kind of pious zeal to meet still; A fool that not deserves they, I take pity on, For fear he should run mad, and so I ease him. I scorn all hazard, And on the edge of danger I do best sir, I have a thousand faces to deceive, And to those twice so many tongues to flatter, And impudence no brass was ever tougher, And for my conscience. This title, and I would done sir; I never can confess, I would that spell on me; And such rare modesties before a Magistrate, Such Innocence to catch a Judge, such ignorance. Have at you. Snap sir. I have walked through all the lodgings. A silence as if death dwelled there inhabits. Nought but a sad confusion thing Every left in such a lose disorder That were there twenty thieves, they would be laden. Certainly there is some cause, some death or sickness Is fallen suddenly upon some friend, Or some strange news is come. I think so, and found a sleep, unless it be Some women that keep watch in a low parlour, And drink, and weep, I know not to what end. Why locked up in that room. I saw the old Lady, ere she went to bed Put up her plate, and some of the rich hangings In a small long chest, her chain and rings are there too, It stands close by the Table on a form. I saw them sad too, and all take their leaves, But what they said I was too far to hear sir. A close one, A back door, that the women have left open, To go in and out to fetch necessaries, Close on the Garden side. Fearful? I'll be hanged first. I was then determain'd To have cried down right too, and have kept they company, As one that had and interest in their sadness, Or made and errand to I know not whom sir. And clear the Room of drunken Jealousies, The chest is of some weight, and we may make Such noise ith carriage we may be snaped. No, no, sir, weel have no shape so terrible, We will not do the devil so much pleasure, To have him face our plot. Thats too cold a shift, I would not wear the reward of my wickedness, I wonder you are and old thief, and no cunninger, Where's the long cloak? Give me the Turbant And the false beard, I hear some coming this way, Stoop, stoop, and let me fit upon your shoulders And now as I direct: stay let they enter, And when I touch move forward, make no noise. Though it were ith' dark sir, I can go to't. Noneleft sir, They are gone, and carried all the candles with they Their fright is infinite, lets make good use on't We must be quick sir, quick, or the house will rise else. Yes, yes. I know the right, no stay sir, Nor no discourse, but to our labour Justly, Put to your strength and make as little noise, Then presently out at: the back door. She's coming with a Candle To see our happy prize. I cannot blame you, plate is very heavy To carry without light or help. We have some reason; Things compasd without feat or eminent danger Are too luxurious sir to live upon. Money and wealth God thus are as full venture, And carry in their nature's as much merit As his, that digs em out 'oth mine, they last too Seasoned with doubts and dangers most delitiously, Riches that fallen upon us are too ripe, And dull our appetites. Mistress lets melt it first, and then 'tis fit You should dispose it, then 'tis safe from danger. Hold your light Mistress, we may see to enter. We would missed sir. Our hast and want of light made us mistake? The devil owed us a shame, and now he has paid us. Bury me alive in't. I cannot tell sir, Belike this was the sadness that possessed they; The plate stood next, I'm sure. This may work, what will become on's sir? Be not sir dejected, Too much a strange mistake! this had not been else, It makes me almost weep to think upon't. We must bury her. I am passed thinking too, no understanding, That I should miss the right Chest. That, which I saw and marked too. It my fault sir. And twenty thousand fears for this, oth'devill, Now could I curse, well, we have her now, And must dispose her. O. I know him too, let me alone. Thy wife. Thy abused wife, that cannot peaceably Enjoy her death, thou hast and evil conscience. Among thy other sins which black thy soul, Call to thy mind thy vow made to another, Whom thou hast wronged, and make her satisfaction Now I am dead, thou perjured man, or else A thousand black tormentors shall pursue thee, Until thou leap into eternal flames; Where gold which thou adorest here on earth Melted, the Fiends shall pour into thy throat; For this time pass, go home, and think upon me, I overheard the women talk to night on't; But now lets loose no time sir, pray lets bury This Gentlewoman, where's my Mistress? Buy a ballad, a ballad of the maid was God with child. A ballad of the Witches hanged at Ludlow. A ballad of wronged Maids. A book new Printed, against Playing, Dancing, Masking, May-poles; a zealous Brother's book, And full of fables. The staff I stole last night from a sleeping Constable; The rest I borrowed by my acquaintance with The Players boys; you were best to loose no time sir. There wants nothing already; but I fly sir. My Master stays, I doubt his lime-twigs catch not, If they do, alls provided; but I all This while forget my own state, fair Maria Is certainly alive, I met her in Another habit, with her Nurse, 'twas she: There is some trick in't, but when this is over, I'll find it out, this project for the Usurer May have good effect; however' 'twill be sport To mortify him a little; He's come without him: Have you failed sir? The pitfalls ready, never Justice Was caught in such a nooze, ere he get out, He shall run through a scouring purgatory, Shall purge him to the quick, 'tis night already. Yes, yes, sir, every thing inns place. Are you sure the same? Be you concealed by any moans yet, hark, They stop, I hope theile too't again, close sir. Good speed to your good exercise. I come sir from a gentleman, and neighbour hard by, One that loves your music well. To entreat a knowledge of you, whither it be By the Ear you ring thus cunningly or by the Eye; For to be plain, he has laid ten pounds upon't. That your Ear guides you, And not your Eye. But how shall we be sure on't. You say true, 'tis a fine cunning thing to ring by th'eare sure: And can you ring ith' dark so? It's wonderful, let this be certain gentlemen, And half his wager he allows among ye; Is't possible you should ring so? Let me hear to strengthen me; And when y'ave rungile bring the money to you. Here, here, sir. His whole case sir; I felt it out, and by the guards This should be the Coachmans, another suit too. That once finished, Yowl give me leave to play sir: here they come. Malicious furies hence, choke not the seeds Of holy penitence. Be thou wise, And entertain it, wretched, wretched man; What poor defence hath all thy wealth been to thee? What says thy conscience now? Take heed, There is no dallying, nor are these imposed. I'th number of thy soul oppressions; Thou hast undone a faithful gentleman, By taking forfeit of his land. He lives most miserable, And in despair may hang or drown himself; Prevent his ruin, or his blood will be More sin in thy account: hast thou forgotten He had a sister? Couldst thou for Mammon break thy solemn vow. Made once to that unhappy maid, that weeps A thousand tears a day for thy unkindness, Was not thy faith contracted, and thy heart? And couldst thou marry another? What do I instance these, that hast been false To all the world. I was commanded but a messenger To tell thee this, and rescue thee from those, Whose malice would have dradg'd thee quick to hell, If thou abuse this mercy and repent not, Double damnation will expect thee for it; But if thy life be virtuous hereafter, A blessedness shall reward thy good example, Thy fright hath much diftracted thy weak senses, Drink of this viol, and renew thy spirits, I would done my office, think on't and be happy. You will dispense with me now, as you promised sir. Thus far my wishes have success, I'll loose No time: Sir, are not you called Mr. Hartlove? Pardon my rudeness. Had you concealed, Or I forgotten it sir, so large were my Directions, that you could not speak this language, But I should know you by your sorrow. I come to bring you comfort. When you have herd me, you'll think otherwise; In vain I should report Maria living: The comfort that I bring you must depend Upon her death. Indeed I have no thought so uncharitable, Nor am I sent to grieve you, let me suffer More punishment than ever boy deserved, If you do find me false; I serve a Mistress Would rather die than play with your misfortunes; Then good sir hear me out. Before I name her, give me some encouragement, That you receive her message, she is one That is full acquainted with your misery, And can bring such a portion of her sorrow In every circumstance so Like your own, You'll love and pity her, and wish your griefs Might marry one another's. She was late beloved, as you were, promised faith, And marriage, and was worthy of a better Than he, that stole Maria's heart. Just as Maria dealt with your affection; Did he that married her, deal with my Mistress, When careless both of honour and Religion; They cruelly gave away their hearts to strangers. That I come to, My Mistress thus unkindly dealt with all, You may imagine, wanted no affliction; And had ere this, wept her self dry as marble, Had not your fortune come to her relief, And twin to her own sorrow brought her comfort. I know not how Companions in grief sometime diminish, And make the pressure easy, by degrees: She threw her troubles off, remembering yours, And from her pity of your wrongs, there grew Affection to your person thus increased, And with it, confidence, that those whom Nature Had made so even in their weight of sorrow, Could not but love as equally one another, Were things but well prepared, this gave her boldness To employ me thus far. If you incline to meet my Mistress love, It may beget your comforts; beside that, 'Tis some revenge, that you above their scorn And pride, can laugh at them, whose perjury Hath made you happy, and undone themselves. Only this little more; When you but see, and know my Mistress well, You will forgive my tediousness, she's fair, Fair as Maria was. Sir, your pardon, I have but done a message; as becomes A servant, nor did she on whose commands I gladly waited, bid me urge her love To your disquiet, she would chide my deligence If I should make you angry. Indeed I fear I have offended you: Pray if I have, enjoin me any penhance for it; I have performed one duty, and could as willingly To purge my fault, and show I suffer with you, Plead your cause to another. I undertake Nothing for gain, but since you have resolved To love no other, I'll be faithful to you, And my prophetic thoughts bid me already Say I shall prosper. Pray give us opportunity. With your fair leave Mistress I have a message from a gentleman, Please you vouchsafe your ear more private. You may, if please you, find another language, And with less pains be understood. Come, pray speak your own English. I must be plain then, come, I know you are Maria, this thin veil cannot obscure you: I'll tell the world you live, I have not lost ye, Since first with griese and shame to be surprised, A violent trance took away show of life; I could discover by what accident You were conveyed away at midnight, in Your coffin, could declare the place, and minute, When you revived, and what you have done since as perfectly — You are not for my knowledge, I'll be dumb For ever, rather than be such a traitor; Indeed I pity you, and bring no thoughts, But full of peace, call home your modest blood, Pale hath too long usurped upon your face; Think upon love again, and the possession Of full blown joys, now ready to salute you. I see how fear would play the tyrant with you, But I'll remove suspicion; have you in Your heart and entertainment for his love, To whom your Virgin faith made the first promise? You shall hereafter know, and thank me Lady, I'll bring you a discharge at my next visit, Of all your fears, be content fair Maria, 'Tis worth your wonder Be wise and silent, Dress your self, you shall be what you wish. All your cares on me. It had been nothing To would left him in the Porch; I called his Servants, With wonders they acknowledged him, I pretended It was some spice sure of the falling sickness, And that was charity to bring him home; They rubbed and chafed him, plied him with strong water, Still he was senseless, clamours could not wake him; I wished they then get him to bed, they did so, And almost smothered him with rugges and pillows; And cause they should have no cause to suspect me, I watched them till he waked. When his time came to yawn, and stretch himself, I bid em not be hasty to discover How he was brought home, his eyes fully open, With trembling he began to call his servants, And told they he had seen strange visions, That should convert him from his Heathen courses; They wondered, and were silent, there he preached How sweet the air of a contented conscience Smelled in his nose now, asked they all forgiveness For their hard pasture since they lived with him; Bid they believe, and fetch out the cold surloin: Pierce the strong beer and let the neighbours joy in't: The concealed Muscadine should now lie open To every mouth; that he would give toth' poor, And mend their wages; that his doors should be Open to every miserable suitor. They durst not speak, But blessed themselves, and the strange' means that had Made him a Christian in this overjoy, I took my leave, and bade they say their prayers, And humour him, lest he turned Jew again. Even here, and please you sir. Nay, 'tis she; To work thy fair way, I preserved you brother, That would have lost me willingly, and served ye Thus Like a Boy; I served you faithfully, And cast your plots but to preserve your credit; Your foul ones I diverted to fair uses; So far as you would Harken to my counsel; That all the world may know how much you owe me. I stole the contract, I must confess, And kept it to my self, it most concern me. That's mine own body. And must not be. Pray be wise sir, doe't handsomely, be not greedy, Lets handle it with such and excellence As if we would bring thieving into honour: We must disguise, to fright these reverend watches. So let them go, and while they are astonishd Let us presently upon the rest now suddenly.