CHARTLEY

But I say no: I have lost and hundred pound, And I will have my saying. I cry you mercy , losers' may speak, I'll not except gainst you: but let me see Which of these two that pocket our Dares contradict me? I say this Hatt's not made of Which of you all dares say the contrary? would feign a with , to get of money again; but the they have wise to partly with it. I say it is not black. I have nought to say to losers. Have I nothing left to set at a Cast? Ey finger, Must you be in gold, and not a of silver in my ? A Bale of fresh Dice. Hoe, come at this Ring. That's the Winners phrase: Hold me play; Or he that hath uncrowned me, take a order with him. The Dice are mine: This Diamond I value at twenty marks: I'll venture it at a throw. Then at all. All's mine. Nay M. Boyster, I bar you: let us work upon the winners. Gramercy Sinks: Nay, though I owe you no quarrel, yet you must give me leave to draw. Again sweet Dice: nay I bar swearing, Gentlemen, let's play patiently. Well, this At the Candlestick, so— With Trays, how say by O he's old dog at Bowls and Trays. And so do I. Nay, swear not, lets play patiently. Drunk nor sober, I never saw a man cast worse. Upon better recollection, it's so indeed. Then put on your Helmet; let's leave this abominable Game, and find out some better Exercise. I can not endure this when men lose. A sign that I can giv good counsel better than take it: but say, Where be the prettiest wenches, my hearts? I have you sir, I have you; but I think you will ne for have her: it's the Knights daughter in Graci ous Street. Have I touched you? Never sir. That hath, as other women have, That she goes for a Maid, as others do, &c. Then I she have you, she is Like to have a proper Gentleman. What will you do M. Boyster? You will not acquaint me with your business. Do you go, or stay sir? You before, I'll follow. He thinks with his blunt humour, to enter as far as I with my sharp: No, my true Trojan, no: There is a fair sweet modest rogue, her name is Luce: with this Dandiprat, this pretty little Apes face, is yond blunt fellow in love; and no marvel, for she hath a Brow bewitching, Eyes ravishing, and a Tongue en chanting: And indeed she hath no fault in the world but one, and that is, she is honest: and were it not for that, she were the only sweet Rogue in Christendom. As I live, I love her extremely, and to enjoy her would give any thing: But the fool stands in her own light, and will do nothing without Marriage: but what should I do marrying? I can better endure Gives, than Bans of Matrimony. But in this Meditation, I am glad I have won my Money again. Nay, and she may be glad of it too: for the Girl is but poor, and in my pocket I have laid up a Stock for her, it's put to use already. And if I meet not with a Dice-house, or and Ordinary by the way, no question but I may increase it to a sum. Well, I'll unto the Exchange to buy her some pretty Novelty: That done, I'll visit my little Rascal, and solicit instantly. Guess that by the circumstance, here's a Ring weare't for my sake; twenty Angels, pocket them you fool; come, come, I know thou art a Maid, say nay, and take them. The stock I can, thou mayest see the fruits here after. Honour! there's another word to flap in a men mouth: Honour! what shouldst thou and I stand upon our Honour, that were neither of us yet, Right Worship full? You shall not, Luce. I will, as I am virtuous, I will: I told you, the second word would be Marriage. It makes a man forfeit his Freedom, and makes him walk ever after with a Chain at his heals, or a Jackanapes hanging at his el bow: Marriage is Like his labyrinth, and being once in, there's no finding the way out. Well, I love this little property most intolerably, and I must set her on the Last, though it cost me all the shoes in my shop. Well Luce, thou seest my stomach is come down; thou hast my heart already, there's my hand. Nay, I know not the way yet, but I hope to find it hereafter, by your good direction. In the way of marriage, in the way of honesty, in the way that was never gone yet: I hop thou art a Maid, Luce. Father, save you, you have happened of and ward Son-in-Law; here I am, how do you Like me? Then I perceive you are and old Eves-dropper: But what do you think of it, Father? Marry, even to morrow by that we can see; , loose no more time, le ache order for that. Ey, thereby hangs a Tale, we will have no more at our marriage, but my self, to say, I take thee Luce; thou to say, I Luce take thee Robin: the Vicar to put us together, and you Father, to play the Clerk, and cry Amen. Scandal? what scandal? Why to stop the mouth of all scandal, after some few days do I ap pear in my likeness, marri worser man and honest housekeeper, and then what becomes of your scandal? Come, send for M r . Vicar, and what we do, lets do suddenly. Well, be't so then. Come Harin ld, now we have been drink king of Mother Redcaps Ale, let us now go make some sport with the Wisewoman. You Enchantress, , Shee-devill you Madam , Lady , you are too old, you Hag, now, for con uring up Spirits your self; but you keep pretty young Witches your roof, that can do that. Away you old Dromadary, I'll come one of these nights, and make a racket amongst your She Catterwaullers. Out of my sighed, thou Shee-mastiffe. My honey sweet Hag, where's Luce? what's the reason we are thus Hood winkt? Gramarcy my Sugarcandy sweet Trot. If the great Heir and the young Lady be so dainty of their Complexions, they shall see (my sweet Luce ) we can wizard it with the best of them. I'll take this way. So, now am I the same man I was yesterday; who can say I was disguised? or who can distinguish my condition now? or read in my face, whither I be a mar ried man, or a Bachelor? Luce. The news? What's become of the Lord and the Lady? This storm is then well passed, and now convey your self home as privately as you can: and see you make this known to none but your Father. This name of Luce hath been ominous to me; one I should have married in the Country, and just the night before, a toy took me in the head, and mounting my H see, I left Capons, Ducks, Geese, Poultry, Wild fowl, Father, and Bride and all, and posted up to Lon done, where I have ever since continued Bachelor, till now. And now— Sirrah, go call me back that Servingman, And ask him what's the Gentlewoman's name. Are you so captious, sirrah, what's her name? Speak, and be brief. Gratiana! oft have I herd of her, but saw her not till now: it's a wench, a very pretty wench, nay, a very, very, very pretty wench. But what a Rogue am I, of a married man? nay, that have not been mar ried this six hours, and to have my shittle-wits run a Woolgathering already? What would poor Luce say if she should hear of this? I may very well call her poor Luce, for I cannot presume of five pounds to her portion: what a Coxcomb was I, being a Gentle man, and well derived, to match into so beggarly a kin dreaded? What needed I to have grafted in the stock of such a Choke Pear, and such a goodly Popering as this to escape me? Escape m e (said I?) if she do, she shall do it narrowly: but I am married already, and therefore it is not possible, unless I should make away my wife, to compass her. Married! why who knows it? I'll outface though Priest, and then there is none but she and her Father, and their evidence is not good in Law: and if they put me in suit, the best is, they are poor, and cannot follow it. I marry Sir, a man may have some credit by such a Wife as this; I could Like this marriage well, if a man might change away his Wife, still as he is a weary of her, and cope her away Like a bade commodity: if every new Moon a man might have a new Wife, that's every year a do zen. But this, Till Death us depart, is tedious: I will go a wooing to her, I will; but how shall I do for jewels and tokens? Luce hath mine in her custody, more ney and all; tush, I'll juggle them from her well enough: see, here she comes. , what, melancholy already re thou hast had good cause to be m rry, and what was. Alas poor fool, I am sorry for thee, but yet can not help thee, as I am a Gentleman. Why say , thou losest now shillings worth of Credit, stay but a time, and it shall bring thee in a thousand pounds worth of come moditie. But do you hear me? Will you but hear ? But hark you Father? Father? Father? Why Father in Law? Why so now, these be good words, I knew these storms would have a shower, and then they would . Now if your anger be over, hear me. Stay but a Month, it's but four Weekee; nay, it's February, the shortest Month of the year, and in that time I shall be at full age; and the Land being in tailed, my Father can disinherit me of nothing. Is your I satisfied you? Well, I see you choleric hasty men, are the kindest when all is done. Here's such of , weeps to think of his Wife, she weeps to see her Fa there cry Peace , we shall else have thee dreaded of the Woman killed with kindness. Gramercy Wench, thou shalt wear this chain no longer for that word, I'll multiply the links in such order, that it shall have light to shine about thy neck, oftener then it does: this jewel, a plain Bristol stone, a counterfeit. How base was I, that coming to thee in the way of Marriage, courted thee with counter feit stones? Thou shalt wear right, or none: thou hast no money about , Luce? Fetch it; let me see, how much branched Sat tin goes to a Petticoat? and how much wrought Velvet to a Gown? then for a Beaver for the Citle, and a Black bag for the Country: I'll promise her nothing, but if any such be brought home, let her not thank me for them. Gramercy Luce, Nay, go in, Gravity and Modesty, ten to one but you shall hear of me, you see me again. Why, do not I know you, and do not I know her? I doubt you'll wish that I had ne for known either of you: now, what sayest thou, my sweet Luce? What a Pagan am I, to practice such villainy a gainst this honest Christian! If Gratiana did come into my thoughts, I should fallen into a vain to pity er: but now that I talk of her, I have a tongue to woo her, Tokens to win her; and that done, if I do not find a trick, both to wear her, and weary her, it may prove a piece of a Wonder. Thou seest, Luce, I have some store of Crowns about me, there are brave things to be bought in the Ci tie; Cheapside, and the Exchange, afford variety and ra ritie. This is all I will say now, but thou mayest hear more of me hereafter. Noble Knight, whilst you peruse that sweet Lady, tell me how you Like this: To the word wooer let me add the name speeder my father hath written to your father, and the cause of his writing at this present, is to let you understand, that he fears you have lived a maid too long: and therefore to prevent all diseases incident to the same; as the green sickness and others. He sent me Like a skilful Physician, to take order with you against all such maladies. If you will not credit me, list but how fervently my father writes in my behalf. How say you by that sweet Lady three hundred pounds a year and a proper man to boot. But I'll be sworn he never writ it. Or else I understand it very poorly, but L die In earnest of further acquaintance, receive this Chain, These Jewels, hand and heart. Farewell good sir Timothy; farewell learned sir Timothy. I thank you: Luce? Nay how do I mean to the: as a Should use his wife. Tush, when we, meet in heaven let talk of that. Nay come you ass, you fool, whats passed is passed, Though man and wife, yet I must marry now. Another gallant, here's thy letter Luce. And this night I intend to lodge with thee. Thou canst not properly call me p st grac , for I never enjoyed thee yet: I cannot tell, whither I blush or no, but I have now at this time, More Grace, then I can tell what to do with. Ey thy father Grace. And were he here I would Ju ifie it to the old dota face. Heyda, if you get one word more of me to night, but scurvy looks, isle give you leave to hang me This is bade company who hath reduced thee? Speak on my blessing, who hath thus misled thee? But no more lies I charge thee. Bade company hath been the shame of me, I was as virtuously given as any youth in Europe, till I fell into one Boysters company, it's he that hath done all the harm up on me. And if he should deny it? I had best bite out my tongue, and speak no more what shall I do, or what shall I say, there is no out- acing them all ntlemen, Father's, wives, or what else. I have wronged all. I confess it that I have, what would you more, will any of you rail of me? Ill bear it, will any of you beat me? So they strike not too har I'll suffer it, will any of you challenge me? I'll answer it. What would you have me say, or do? One of these I have married, the other I have betrothed, yet both maids for me; Will you have me take one, and leave the tother? I will, will you have me keep them both? I will. What you here too? Nay then I see all my good friends are met together, wilt thou have me Luce? I am thy Husband, and had I not loved thee better then Grace. I had not disappointed the marriage day to morrow. Then neither married man, widow nor bachelor, whats to be done? Heeres even the proverb verified, be tween too stools, the tail goes to ground. There's one gone already, but Thy is my wife and her isle keep in spite of the Devil and his dam. That am I. Two gone, then where the third, this make me mad, where is my wife then, for a wife I had. First love, and best beloved? Grace, come not near her Grace. Father keep off, on Gentlemen apace. She S troubled with the falling sickness, for Oft hath she fallen before me. If it were in a man, it were nothing, but the falling sickness in a woman is dangerous. My tother father in Law, now shall I be utterly shamed, If he assure to know me, I'll out face him. How fellow. Gentlemen, the Ladies call upon you to dance, they will be out of measure displeased, if dinner being done, you be not ready to lead them a me sure: Fie sir Boniface: have you forgotten your self, While you are in the Hall, there's never a whetstone for their wits in the Parler? To me sir, from whom? a letter to her most deer, most loving, most kind friend Mr. Chartly these be delivered: sure from some wench or other I long to know the contents. Good news, as I live, there's for thy pains my good sir Pandarus: Hadst thou brought me word my fa there had turned up his heals. Thou couldst scarcely have pleased me better: (He reads) though I disclaim the name of wife, of which I account my self altogether un worthy, yet let me claim some small interest in your love, this night I lie at the house where we were married, (the Wisewomans I mean) where my maidenhead is to be rifled, bid fair for it, and enjoy it, see me this night or ne for, so may you marrying Gratiana, and loving me, have a sweet wife and a true friend: This night or never, your quo dam wife: Hereafter your poor sweetheart no other: Luce. So when I am tired with Gratiana, that is when I am passed grace. With her I can make my rendevowz, isle not slip this occasion, nor sleep till I see her, thou art and honest lad, and mayest prove a good Pimp in time. Canst thou advice me what colour, I may have to compass this come modity. I'll go, although the Devil and mischance look big, You rogue, I would he did but the name of that news is called, too good to be true. Enough: if ever I prove Knight errant thou shalt be mine own proper squire, for this thou hast fitted me with a plot, do but wait here note how I will man age it, Tabor my horse, for I must ride to night So tell my Bride and Father, I have news that quite confounds my nces. My Father, Oh my Father: If ever I will here his aged tongue. Preach to me counsel, or his palsy hand, Stroke my wild head, and bless me, or his eyes: Drop tear by tear which they have often done, At my misgoverned rioting youth. What should I more, if ever I would see; The good old man alive. O, O? Ey Grace, all this night. Nay Grace, now's no time. To stand on scrupulous parting. Knewest thou my business. And how I mean this night to toil my self. Thou would be moan my travel. You father, Grace, good Mr Harringsfield. You sir, and all pray for Gentl men, that in this dark nights journey I may find smooth way, sweet speed and all things to my mind. What? old acquaintance . Not a word? Yet some lip labour if thou love me. Come, come away with this wailing in woe, if thou puttest finger in the eye a little longer, I shall plunge in pain too presently. What thou my sweet wife, Prethe be merry? I have made a gull of Grace, and old Harry thinks me a great way off, I told the Knight, My father lay a dying, took post horse, Rid out of Holbur , turned by Islington, So, hither wench to lodge all night with thee. Why I too much of Grace already Nay lets to bed, if thou couldst but imagine how I love thee Luce. Dost thou not know rich? Why you fool as soon as I have God her dower, it is but giving her a dram, or a pill to purge m choly to make her turn up her heals, and then withal that wealth, come I oh li with thee my sweet rascal. I am betrayed. What shall I say, or think, or do, I am at Nonplus. Who but the old dotard thy Father, who when I was honestly married to a civil maid, perswa ed me to leave her, I was loath at first but after entreating, ur ging, and off ring me large proffers, I must confess I was seduced to come a wooing to thee. Plots, plots. I can but cry you rcy both, Say that I have done you wrong, I can be but sorry for it, but indeed to clear you, and lay the fault where it ought to be. All this comes from mine own father in the con trey, who hearin I had married with Luce. Sends me word of. his blessing to be divorst from her, and to come a suitor to your daughter, I think you have his hand and to show. Wilt thou have me Grace, for had I not loved thee better then Luce. I would never after I had married her been contracted to thee. Enough sir: if I should say I would become A new man; You would not take my word. If I should swear. I would amend my life, You would not take mine oath, if I should bind my self, to become and honest man you would scarce take my bound. Then sir, when to all your judgements I see me passed grace, do lay hold of Grace, and here begin to retire my self, this woman hath lent me a glass, in which I see all my imperfections, at which my conscience does more blush inwardly, then my face outwardly, and now I dare confidently undertake for my self I am honest. Knavery and riot both which, are now to me mean foe ige. Father, call me once again your son, and sir Harry me your friend: and hand, and mistress Grace and heart, in honourable love. Where I have wronged you Luce forgive. Impute my errors to my youth not , with Grace I interchange, and embrace with you Luce, a parting buss I wish you all joy, divide my art amongst you, thou my soul. Nay mother midnight theres some love for you. Out of thy folly, being reputed wise, We, self conceated would our folly's found: Bear thou the name of all these comic acts. Morrow ; In exchange of this , see what I have brought thee from the Exchange. I would not for a world it should be known to my Friends, or come to my Father's care. It may be ten thousand pounds out of my way for the pre sent: therefore this is my conceit, Let us be married privately, and L ce shall live Like a Maid still, and bear the Name. 'Tis nothing L ce: it is a common thing in this age to go for a Maid, and be none. I'll frequent the house secretly: ear not Girl, though I revel abroad a days, I'll be with thee to bring a nights, my little Whi ting Mopp. Hark in thine ear, I'll tell thee; nay hear me out, is't possible so soft a body should have so hard a soul? Nay now I know my penance, you will be angry, and school me for tempting your modesty: a fig for this modesty, it hin dears many a g odd man from many a good turn, & that's all the good it does. If thou but knewest, Luce, how I love thee, thou wouldst be far more tractable. Nay, I bar chiding when you speak I'll stop thy lips if thou dost but offer and angry word, by this hand I'll di' , and with this hand too. Go to now, what say you? A I thou canst not hire me too't. Why L ce, if thou be'st hungry, thou stay a month from meat? Nay, if I see my diet before me, I love to fallen too when I have a stomach. Here, buy thee a new Smock; let's have a new Bed too, and look it be strong: there's a box of Rings and Jewels, lay the up. Would ; me thinks the very name of Wedlock h that brought me to a Nightcap already, and I am grown civil on the . There's more money for Dishes, Platters, Ladles, Candlesticks, &c. as I shall them down in the Inventory. P Rice of my life: now if the Devil have bones, these Dice are made of his. Was ever such a cast seen in this Age? Could any Gull in Eum rope (saving my self) fling such a cast? A bargain, and there's earnest on thy lips See, here she is; how now Witch? How now Hag? How now Beldame? You are the Wise woman, are you? and have wit to keep your selte warm enough, I warrant you. As fair and Helmet as any man in Needs to wear. Oh the Witch, the Beldame, the Hag of Hog done. No harm done friend, no harm done. No . No. Now bless us all, what will you every Cross True, my losing had took away my Senses, Both of Seeing and Feeling: but better luck Hath brought them to their right temper. But come, a pox of Dice; it's time to give over. Stay but a month. That may be helped. Now Luce, your Father's pacified, will you be pleased? I would endure a Quarters punishment for thee, and wilt not thou suffer a poor Months penance for me? It's but eight and twenty days, Wench; thou shalt fare well all the time, drink well, eat well, lie well: come, one word of comfort at the later end of the day. Nay , sweet wife weeping if me,