POLISH

Alas, they are both dead, and it please you; But, Your Ladyship means well, and shall mean well, So long as I live. How does your fine Niece? My charge, Mistress Placentia Steel? Not well? 'Od shield! She is a noble Aunt! And a right worshipful Lady, and a virtuous; I know it well! Sir I will speak, with my good Ladies leave, And speak, and speak again; I did bring up My Ladies Niece, Mrs. Placentia Steel, With my own Daughter (who's Placentia too) And waits upon my Lady, is her woman: Her Ladyship well knows M rs . Placentia Steel (as I said) her curious Niece, was left A Legacy to me; by Father, and Mother With the Nurse, Keep, that tended her: her Mother She died in Childbed of her, and her Father Lived not long after: for he loved her Mother! They were a godly couple! yet both died, (As we must all.) No creature is immortal; I have herd our Pastor say; no, not the faithful! And they did die (as I said) both in one month. And did bequeathe her, to my care, and hand, To polish, and bring up. I moulded her, And fashioned her, and formed her; she had the sweat Both of my brows and brains. My Lady knows it Since she could write a quarter old. Sir sixteen thousand pound Was then her portion! for she was, indeed, Their only child! and this was to be paid Upon her marriage, so she married still With my good Ladies liking here, her Aunt: (I herd the Will read) Mr. Steel her father, The world condemned him to be very rich, And very hard, and he did stand condemned With that vain world, till, as 'twas 'prov'd, after, He left almost as much more to good uses In Sir Moath Interests hands, my Ladies brother, Whose sister he had married: He holds all In his close gripe. But Mr. Steel, was liberal, And a fine man; and she a dainty Dame, And a religious, and a bountiful— You knew her Mr. Compass? And her husband, What a fine couple they were? and how they lived? And loved together, Like a pair of Turtles? And feasted all the Neighbours? She would dispute with the Doctors of Divinity At her own table! and the Spittle Preachers! And find out the Armenians. I say the Armenians. So Mr. Polish called them, the Armenians! Yes, he knew them, And so did Mistress Steel! she was his Pupil! The Armenians, he would say, were worse then Papists! And then the Persians, were our Puritans, Had the fine piercing wits! The middle men, the Lukewarm Protestants? Sir she would find them by their branching Their branching sleeves, branched cassocks, and branched doctrine, Beside their Texts. I respect no Persons, Chaplins, or Doctors, I will speak. Sir I am mad, in truth, and to the purpose; And cannot but be mad; to hear my Ladies Dead sister sleighted, witty Mrs. Steel! She was both witty, and zealous, And lighted all the Tinder of the truth, (As one said) of Religion, in our Parish: She was too learned to live long with us! She could the Bible in the holy tongue: And read it without pricks: had all her Masoreth; Knew Burton, and his Bull; and scribe Prin -Gent! Fraesto-be-gon: and all the Pharisees. I shall obey If your wise Ladyship think fit: I know, To yield to my Superiors. How now, my dainty charge, and diligent Nurse? What were you chanting on? ( To her daugh ter kneeling. God bless you Maiden.) She shall have a man, good Nurse, and must have a man: A man, and a half, if we can choose him out: We are all in counsel within, and fit about it: The Doctors, and the Scholars, and my Lady; Who's wiser then all us—. Where's Mr. Needle? Her Ladyship so lacks him to prick out The man? How does my sweet young Mistress? You look not well, me thinks! how do you, deer charge? You must have a husband, and you shall have a husband; There's two put out to making for you: A third, Your Uncle promises: But you must still Be ruled by your Aunt: according to the will Of your dead father, and mother (who are in heaven.) Your Lady-Aunt has choice i'the house for you: We do not trust your Uncle; he would keep you A Batchler still, by keeping of your portion: And keep you not alone without a husband, But in a sickness: I, and the green sickness, The Maidens malady; which is a sickness: A kind of a disease, I can assure you, And Like the Fish our Mariners call remora —. How now goody Nurse? Dame Keep of Katernes? what? have you and oar In the Cockboat, because you are a Sailors wife? And come from Shadwell? I say a remora: For it will stay a Ship, that's under Sail! And stays are long, and tedious things to Maids! And maidens are young ships, that would be sailing, When they be rigged: wherefore is all their trim else? The stay is dangerous: You know it Mrs. Needle. Say you so, Sir? Says his worship so? I warrant them he says true, then; they sometime Are Soothsayers, and always cunning men. Which Doctor was it? Why? hear you, Nurse? How comes this gear to pass? This is your fault in truth: It shall be your fault, And must be your fault: why is your Mistress sick? She had her health, the while she was with me. You must do more then your duty, foolish Nurse: You must do all you can; and more then you can, More then is possible: when folks are sick, Especially, a Mistress; a young Mistress. Doctor Doo-all can do it. Thence he's called so. Doctor, do all you can, I pray you, and beseech you, for my charge, here. I know you can do all things, what you please, Sir, For a young Damsel, my good Ladies Niece, here! You can do what you list. Especially in this new case, of the Dropsy. The Gentlewoman (I do fear) is leavened. Puffed, blown, an't please your worship. Tainted (an't please you) some do call it. She swells, and swells so with it.— Yes, I say so Mr. Doctor, and betimes too. Your Ladyship says right, Crimpe, sure, will cure her. Must she then drop it? We all shall thank him. But, deer Madam, think, Resolve upon a man, this day. Oh, that Will be a work of time; she may be old Before her husband rise to a chief Judge; And all her flower be gone: No, no, a Lady OF the first head I'd have her; and in Court: The Lady Silkworm, a Diaphanous Lady: And be a Viscountess to carry all Before her (as we say) her Gentleman-usher: And cast off Pages, bore, to bid her Aunt Welcome unto her honour, at her lodgings. Oh, you shall precede her: You shall be a Countess! Sir Diaphanous, Shall get you made a Countess! Here he comes; Has my voice certain: Oh fine Courtier! Oh blessed man! the bravery pricked out, To make my dainty charge, a Viscountess! And my good Lady, her Aunt, Countess at large! Why, now your Ladyship is free to choose, The Courtier Sir Diaphanous: he shall do it, I'll move it to him my self. The making you a Countess. Sir, do but make her worshipful Aunt a Countess, And she is yours: her Aunt has world's to leave you! The wealth of six East Indian Fleets at least! Her Husband, Sir John Loadstone, was the Governor OF the Company. seven years. I cannot tell, I must attend my Gossip, her good Ladyship. How do you sweet charge? I, and a faint sweat marry. But there's Sir Moath your brother Is fallen into a fit of the happyplexe, It were a happy place for him, and us, If he could steal to heaven thus: All the house Are calling Mr. Doctor, Mr. Doctor. The Parson he has gi'n him gone, this half hour; He's pale in the mouth already, for the fear OF the fierce Captain. What a brave man's a Doctor, To Beatrice one into health! I thought his blows Would eene have killed him: he did feel no more Then a great horse. Where there are means, and Doctors, learned men, And their Apothecaries, who are not now, (As Chawcer says) their friendship to begin. Well, could they teach each other how to win I'their swath bans—. Nay, I know when to hold my peace. All errant learned men, how they 'spute Latin. Who? Come away Gentlemen. Out thou caitiff witch! Baud, Beggar, Gipsy: Any thing indeed, But honest woman. Thou art a Traitor to me, And Eve, the Apul, and the Serpent too: A Viper, that hast eat a passage through me, Through mine own bowels, by thy retchlesnesse. Did I trust thee, wretch, With such a secret, of that consequence, Did so concern me, and my child, our livelihood, And reputation? And hast thou undone us? By thy connivance, nodding in a corner, And suffering her begotten with child so basely? Sleepy unlucky Hag! Thou bird of night, And all mischance to me. Softly Devil, not so lowed, You'd have the house hear, and be witness, would you? What will you do? Not so high! And must you be thus loud? Didst thou not swear To keep it secret? and upon what book? (I do remember now) The Practice of Piety. What have I done? Conjured a spirit up I shall not lay again? drawn on a danger, And ruin on my self thus, by provoking A peevish fool, whom nothing will pray of, Or satisfy I fear? Her patience stirred, Is turned to fury. I have run my Bark, On a sweet Rock, by mine own arts, and trust: And must get off again, or dash in pieces. Blessed woman? Blessed be the Peacemaker. Good gentle Keep, I pray thee Mistress Nurse, Pardon my passion, I was misadvised, Be thou yet better, by this grave sage woman, Who is the Mother of Matrons, and great persons, And knows the world. Put your somethings. Together then. Breath of and Oracle! You shall be my deer Mother; wisest woman That ever tipped her tongue, with point of reasons, To turn her hearers! Mistress Keep, relent, I did abuse thee; I confess to penance: And on my knees ask thee forgiveness. Oh! give you joy Mademoiselle Compass! You are his Whirlpool now: all to be married, Against your Mother's leave, and without counsel! He has fished fair, and caught a Frog, I fear it. What fortune have you to bring him in dower? You can tell stories now: you know a world Of secrets to discover. No, you shall not, I'll take order. Go, get you in there: It is Ember -week! I'll keep you fasting from his flesh a while. You have done a Miracle, Mother Chair. Come sweet Charge, You shall present your self about the house, be confident, and bear up; you shall be seen. I knew the Gentlewoman; Alderman Parrots Widow, a fine Speaker, As any was in the Clothing, or the Bevy; She did become her scarlet, and black Velvet, Her green, and purple— She dwelled in Doo-little Lane, a top o'the hill there; In the round Cage, was after Sir Chime Squirrell's. She would eat nought but Almonds, I assure you. You are a foul mouthed, purging, absurd Doctor; I tell you true, and I did long to tell it you. You ha'spread a scandal in my Ladies house here, On her sweet Niece, you never can take off With all your purges, or your plaster of Oaths; Though you distil your Dam, drop by drop, In your defence. That she hath had a Child, Here she does spit upon thee, and defy thee; Or I do't for her. Go thou thither, That better hast deserved it, shame of Doctors: Where could she be delivered? by what charm? Restored to her strength so soon? who is the Father? Or where the Infant? Ask your Oracle, That walks, and talks in his sleep. I, sweet Mr. Compass? I honour you, and your wife. I hide your wife? Why should I hide your wife, good Mr. Compass? You may say what you will: you are Mr. Compass, And carry a large sweep, Sir, in your Circle. Fine Pol! Pol is a fine bird! Oh fine Lady Pol! Almond for Parrat; Parrat's a brave bird: Three hundred thousand pieces have you stuck, Edge-long into the ground, within the Garden? O'bounteous Bird! Pretending! Sir, I am her Mother, and challenge A right, and power for what I have done. How knows he this? have you told this? A cunning fool, If that be all. This's Like all the rest of Mr. Compass. I scorn to be prevented of my glories. I plotted the deceit, and I will own it. Love to my Child, and lucre of the portion Provoked me; wherein though th'event hath failed In partly, I will make use of the best side. This is my Daughter, and she hath had a Child This day, unto her shame, I now profess it.) By this mere false-stick Squire Needle, but Since this wise Knight, hath thought it good to change The foolish Father of it, by assuring Her to his deer friend, Mr. Bias; and him Again to her, by clapping of him on With his free promise of ten thousand pound, Afore so many witnesses. I should be unnatural To my own flesh, and blood, would I not thank him. I thank you Sir: and I have reason for it. For here your true Niece stands, fine Mrs. Compass. (I'll tell you truth, you have deserved it from me.) To whom you are by bound engaged to pay The sixteen thousand pound, which is her portion, Endue to her husband, on her marriage-day. I speak the truth, and nothing but the truth. Will you leave her then? It shall be thanked, and you too, wisest Mother; You shall have a new, brave, foure-pound Beaver hat, Set with enameled studs, as mine is here: And a right pair of Crystal Spectacles, Crystal of the Rock, thou mighty Mother of Dams, Hung in and Ivory Case, at a gold Belt, And silver Bells to jingle, as you pace Before your fifty Daughters in procession To Church, or from the Church.