WELBORNE

You know me: This is rare: O here's Tom. Alworth Tom. Better, and better. He contemnes me too? No: I will not stir. Do you mark, I will not. Let me see the wretch That dares attempt to force me. Why you slaves, Created only to make legs, and cringe; To carry in a dish, and shift a trencher; That have not sou'es only to hope a blessing Beyond black jacks, or flagons; you that were born Only to consume meat, and drink, and batten Upon reversions: who advances? who Shows me the way? Madam, my designs Bear me to you. And though I have met with But ragged entertainment from your grooms here, I hope from you to receive that noble usage, As may become the true friend of your husband, And then I shall forget these. Scorn me not good Lady; But as in form you are Angelical Imitate the heavenly nature's, and vouchsafe At the least awhile to heareme. You will grant The blood that runs in this arm, is as noble As that which fills your veins; those costly jewels, And those rich clothes you wear; your men's observance, And women's flattery, are in you no virtues, Nor these rags, with my poverty, in me vices. You have a fair fame, and I know deserve it, Yet Lady I must say in nothing more, Than in the pious sorrow you have shown For your late noble husband. That husband Madam, was once in his fortune Almost as low, as I. Want, debts, and quarrels Lay heavy on him: let it not be thought A boast in me, though I say, I relieved him. 'Twas I that gave him fashion; mine the sword That did on all occasions second his; I brought him on, and off with honour, Lady: And when in all men's judgements he was sunk, And in his own Hope's not to be bung'd up, I stepped unto him, took him by the hand, And set him upright. I confess you made him Master of your estate, nor could your friends Though he brought no wealth with him, blame you for't. For he had a shape, and to that shape a mind Made up of all parts, either great, or noble, So winning a behaviour, not to be Resisted, Madam. For his sake then, in that I was his friend, Do not contemn me. No Madam, on no terms: I will nor beg, nor borrow six pence of you, But be supplied elsewhere, or want thus ever. Only one suit I make, which you deny not To strangers: and it's this. Nothing; unless you please to charge your servants, To throw away a little respect upon me. I thank you, Lady. Now what can be wrought out of such a suit, Is yet in supposition; I have said all, When you please you may retire. Nay, all's forgotten, And for a lucky Omen to my project, Shake hands, and end all quarrels in the cellar. Sir your Wives Nephew, She, and my Father tumbled in one belly. By this light I think he's mad. You have took a course Between you, and my venerable Uncle, To make me so. By what? Thy religion! The Devils Creed, but what would you have done? I thank you. Here's variety I must confess; but I'll accept of none Of all your gentle offers, I assure you. It'll not do; deer tempter, With all the Rhetoric the fien'd hath taught you. I am as far as thou art from despair, Nay, I have Confidence, which is more than Hope, To live, and suddenly better than ever. I'll be more kind to thee. Come thou shalt dine with me. Nay more, dine gratis, Thou art incredulous, but thou shalt dine Not alone at her house, but with a gallant Lady, With me, and with a Lady. With the Lady Alworth, knave. Mark there, with what respect I am entertained. It's not far off, go with me: trust thine own eyes Come along then. Yes, yes, and knock again. Say so much To my friend I pray you. Mum; this is nothing. I am satisfied: farewell Tom. Be still a Pagan, And unbelieving Infidel, be so Miscreant, And meditate on blanketts, and on dog whips. What's thy will? That way I Like they best. What think you of the hedge we shall dine un der? Shall we feed gratis? I am well here till her Ladyship quits her chamber. Trouble your self no farther; Dear Madam; my heart's full of zeal, and service, How ever in my language I am sparing. Come master Marrall. There are casualties That men are subject too. Prithee do not flout me. What I shall be, I shall be. Is't for your ease, You keep your hat off? Is not this a true Rogue? aside. That out of mere hope of a future cosnage Can turn thus suddenly: it's rank already. No; speak freely. But where's the horse? I thank thy love: but must make no use of it, What's twenty pounds? Dost thou think though I want clothes I could not have they, For one word to my Lady? Come I'll tell thee a secret, and so leave thee. I'll not give her the advantage, though she be A gallant minded Lady, after we are married (There being no woman, but is sometime froward) To hit me in the teeth, and say she was forced To buy my wedding clothes, and took me on With a plain Riding-suite, and and ambling Nag. No, I'll be furnished something Like my self. And so farewell; for thy suit touching Knaves acre. When it is mine it's thine. Let my silence plead In my excuse my Lord till better leisure Offer it self to hear a full relation Of my poor Fortune's. No such thing: Compassion rather Sir. He'll run into the noose, and save my labour. aside. This done Sir out of love, and no ends else. Binds my still your servant. Here's and Uncle In a men extremes! how much they do belie you That say you are hardhearted. How's this! petitioned too? But note what miracles, the payment of A little trash, and a rich suit of clothes Can work upon these Rascals. I shall be I think prince Welborne. Then look thou for advancement. And thou shalt hit it. Fear me not Sir Giles I over herd you, And the bribe he promised, you are cousend in they, For of all the scum that grew rich by my riots This for a most unthankful knave, and this For a base bawd, and whore, have worst deserved me, And therefore speak not for'em, by your place You are rather to do me justice; lend me your ear, Forget his Turkeys, and call in his Licence, And at the next Fair, I'll give you a yoke of Oxen Worth all his Poultry. Speak; what are you? Remember. Thou art and honest fellow: I'll set thee up again, see his bill paid, What are you? See him paid, and botch no more. Such Tailors needs not, If their bills are paid in one and twenty year They are seldom losers. Oh, I know thy face Thou were't my Surgeon: you must tell no tales. Those days are done. I will pay you in private. See all men else discharged And since Old debts are clear why a new way, A little bounty, will not misbecome me; There's something honest Cook for thy good breakfasts, And this for your respect, take't, it's good gold And I able to spare it. Pray you on before. Now master Marrall, what's the weighty secret You promised to impart? That's forgiven. I rely upon thee. And will continue Such in my free acknowledgement, that I am Your creature Madam, and will never hold My life mine own, when you please to command it. I herd of him, Madam, By his minister Marrall, he's grown into strange passion About his daughter, this last night he looked for Your Lordship at his house, but missing you, And she not yet appearing, his wise-head Is much perplexed, and troubled. Sir. It's all I owe you. Have your redeemed rags Made you thus insolent? Insolent to you? in scorn. Why what are you Sir, unless in your years, At the best more than myself? Well Sir, and what follows? Can you be So cruel to your Nephew? now he's in The way to rise: was this the courtesy You did me in pure love, and no ends else? And beg after: Mean you not so? No: indeed you shall not: Nor bound, nor bill, nor bore acknowledgement, Your great looks fright not me. Let him come on, With all his wrongs, and injuries about him, Armed with his cutthroat practises to guard him; The right that I bring with me, will defend me, And punish his extortion. This rage is vain Sir, For fighting fear not you shall have your hands full, Upon the least incitement; and whereas You charge me with a debt of a thousand pounds, If there be law, (how ever you have no conscience) Either restore my land, or I'll recover A debt, that's truly endue to me, from you In valve ten times more than what you challenge. I do acknowledge none, I never passed over Any such land, I grant for a year, or two, You had it in trust, which if you do discharge, Surrendering the possession, you shall ease Your self, and me, of chargeable suits in law, Which is you prove not honest, (as I doubt it) Must of necessity follow. Let despair first seize me. Indented I confess, and labels too, But neither wax, nor words. How! thunderstruck? Not a syllable to insult with? my wise Uncle Is this your precious evidence? is this that makes Your interest clear To save thee would beggar the stock of mercy. All will come out. I think so: You dare do any ill, yet want true valour To be honest, and repent. This sudden heat May yet be cooled Sir. As it appears, You are so my graven Uncle You'll grow Like him Should you answer his vain challenge. I do believe thee. But first discover the quaint means you used To raze out the conveyance? You are a Rascal, he that dares be false To a master, though unjust, will never be true To any other: look not for reward, Or favour from me, I will shun thy sighed As I would do a basilisks. Thank my pity If thou keep thy cares, how ever I will take order Your practice shall be silenced. That were to little purpose, His conscience be his prison, not a word But instantly begone. His looks are ghastly. Thus would I fly among you, There's no help Disarm him first, then bind him. And bites the earth. It's the language That I speak too; but there is something else Beside the repossession of my land, And payment of my debts that I must practice I had a reputation, but 'twas lost In my lose course; and Till I redeem it Some noble way, I am but half made up It is a time of Actium, if your Lordship Will please to confer a company upon me In your command, I doubt not in my service To my King, and Country, but I shall do something That may make me right again. Nothing wants then But your allowance. Verity, you brach! The Devil turned precisian? Rogue what am I? How! dog? Rascal, slave. Am not I He Whoseriots fed, and clothed thee? Wertenberg thou not Born on my father's land, and proud to be A drudge in his house? Slave, stop, or I shall loose my self. Some Curate hath penned this invective, mongrel, And you have studied it. I shall switch your brains out. Yes, to whores, and canters, Clubbers by night. Thus you doggebolt, And thus. Stir and thou diest: Your potent Prince the Constable shall not save you. Hear me ungrateful hell h owned; did not I Make purses for you? Then you licked my boots, And thought your holy day cloak too course to cleane'em. 'Twas I that when I herd thee swear, if ever Thou couldst arrive at forty pounds, thou wouldst Live Like and Emperor: 'twas I that gave it, In ready gold. Deny this, wretch. They are well rewarded That beggar themselves to make such cuckolds rich. Thou viper thankless viper; impudent bawd! But since you are grown forgetful, I will help Your memory, and tread thee into mortar: Not leave one bone unbroken. I will not be granted. For once thou hast redeemed them from this sceptre: But let'em vanish, creeping on their knees, And if they grumble, I revoke my pardon. Sent to your mother? It's a noble widow, And keeps her reputation pure, and clear From the least taint of infamy; her life With the splendour of her actions leaves no tongue To Envy, or Detraction. Prithee tell me; Has she no suitors? Forbear it, While I give you good counsel. I am bound to it; Thy father was my friend, and that affection I boar to him, in right descends to thee; Thou art a handsome, and a hopeful youth, Nor will I have the least affront stick on thee, If I with any danger can prevent it. You think you walk in clouds, but are trans rend, I have herd all, and the choice that you have made; And with my finger can point out the North star, By which the loadstone of your folly's guided. And to confirm this true, what think you of Fair Margaret the only child, and heir Of Cormorant Overreach? does it blush? and start, To hear her only named? blush at your want Of wit, and reason. Wounds of this nature are not to be cured With balms, but corrosives. I must be plain: Art thou scarce manumised from the porters lodge, And yet sworn servant to the pantophle, And darest thou dream of marriage? I fear It'll be concluded for impossible, That there is now, nor ere shall be hereafter, A handsome page, or players boy of fourteen, But either loves a Wench, or drabs love him; Court-waiters not exempted. Grant this true As I believe it; canst thou ever hope To enjoy a quiet bed with her, whose father Ruined thy state? I confess it. True I must tell you as a friend, and freely, That where impossibilities are apparent, It's indiscretion to nourish Hope's. Canst thou imagine, (let not selflove blind thee) That Sir Giles Overreach, that to make her great In swelling titles, without touch of conscience, Will cut his neighbours throat, and I hope his own too; Will ere consent to make herthine? Give over And think of some course suitable to thy rank, And prosper in it. No matter, no matter. How's this? Money from thee? From a boy? a stipendiary? one that lives At the devotion of a stepmother, And the uncertain favour of a Lord? I'll eat my arms first. Howsoever blind fortune Hath spent the utmost of her malice on me; Though I am vomited our of and Alehouse, And thus accoutered; know not where to eat, Or drink, or sleep, but underneath this Canopy; Although I thank thee, I despise thy offer. And as I in my madness broke my state, Without th'assistance of another's brain, In my right wits I'll piece it; at the worst Die thus, and be forgotten. I am wholly yours, yet Madam, if you please To grace this Gentleman with a salute. I shall receive it As a most high favour. Run backward from a Lady? and such a Lady? Why thou unthankful villain darest thou talk thus? Is not thy house, and all thou hast my gift? Art thou not in love? Put it not off with wonder. May it please your Lordship For some ends of mine own but to withdraw A little out of sighed, though not of hearing, You may perhaps have sport. No bouze? nor no Tobacco? I think I am in a good way. I do now then? To him again. Mark that.