A Select Collection of Old English Plays Part 88

[_They spy each other._

SAD. Is't not the captain and my friend?

[JOLLY _salutes them; then he goes to the_ CAPTAIN _to embrace him: the_ CAPTAIN _stands in a French posture_,[209]

_and slides from his old way of embracing._

JOLLY. Ned Wild! Tom Careless! what ail'st thou? dost thou scorn my embraces?

CAPT. I see you have never been abroad, else you would know how to put a value upon those, whose careful observation brought home the most exquisite garb and courts.h.i.+p that Paris could sell us.

JOLLY. A pox on this fooling, and leave off ceremony!

CAPT. Why, then, agreed: off with our masks, and let's embrace like the old knot.

[_They embrace._

JOLLY. Faith, say where have you spent these three years'

time?--in our neighbour France? or have you ventured o'er the Alps, to see the seat of the Caesars?

SAD. And can tell us ignorant (doomed to walk upon our own land), how large a seat the G.o.ddess fixed her flying Trojans in.

CON. Yes, yes, and have seen and drunk (perhaps) of Tiber's famous stream.

JOLLY. And have been where. ?neas buried his trumpeter and his nurse. Tom looks as if he had sucked the one, and had a battle sounded by the other, for joy to see our nation ambitious not to be understood or known, when they come home.

CAPT. So, now I'm welcome home: this is freedom, and these are friends, and with these I can be merry; for, gentlemen, you must give me leave to be free too.

JOLLY. So you will spare us miserable men, condemned to London and the company of a Michaelmas term, and never travelled those countries that set mountains on fire a-purpose to light us to our lodging.

WILD. Why, this is better than to stay at home, and lie by hearsay, wearing out yourselves and fortunes like your clothes, to see her that hates you for being so fine; then appearing at a play, dressed like some part of it, while the company admire the mercer's and the tailor's work, and swear they have done their parts to make you fine gentlemen.

CARE. Then leap out of your coach, and throw your cloak over your shoulder, the casting-nets to catch a widow, while we have seen the world, and learned her customs.

CAPT. Yes, sir, and returned perfect monsieurs.

SAD. Yes, even to their diseases. I confess my ignorance; I cannot amble, nor ride like St George at Waltham.[210]

JOLLY. Yet, upon my conscience, he may be as welcome with a trot as the other with his pace. And faith, Jack (to be a little free), tell me, dost thou not think thou hadst been as well to pa.s.s here, with that English nose thou carriedst hence, as with the French tongue thou hast brought home?

[_The_ CAPTAIN _has a patch over his nose_.

CAPT. It is an accident, and to a soldier 'tis but a scar. 'Tis true, such a sign upon Master Jolly's face had been as ill as a _red cross_, and _Lord have mercy upon us_,[211] at his lodging-door, to have kept women out of court.

JOLLY. For aught you know of the court.

CAPT. I know the court, and thee, and thy use, and how you serve but as the handsomest movables; a kind of implement above-stairs, and look much like one of the old court-servants in the hangings.

WILD. But that they move and look fresher, and your apparel more modern.

CARE. Yes, faith, their office is the same, to adorn the room, and be gazed on. Alas! he's sad: courage, man, these riding-clothes will serve thee at the latter day.

CAPT. Which is one of their grievances; for nothing troubles them more than to think they must appear in a foul winding-sheet, and come undressed.

JOLLY. Gentlemen, I am glad to find you know the court: we know a traveller too, especially when he is thus changed and exchanged, as your wors.h.i.+ps, both in purse and person, and have brought home foreign visages and inscriptions.

CON. Why, that's their perfection: their ambition to have it said: There go those that have profitably observed the vices of other countries, and made them their own; and the faults of several nations, at their return, are their parts.

JOLLY. Why, there's Jack Careless--he carried out as good staple-manners as any was in Suffolk, and now he is returned with a shrug, and a trick to stand crooked, like a scurvy bow unbent; and looks as if he would maintain oil and salads against a chine of beef. I knew a great beast of this kind; it haunted the court much, and would scarcely allow us (fully reduced to civility) for serving up mutton in whole joints.

CON. What, silent?

SAD. Faith, the captain is in a study.

JOLLY. Do, do, con the rivers and towns perfectly, captain: thou may'st become intelligencer to the people, and lie thy two sheets a week in Corrantos too.

CON. And could you not make friends at court to get their pictures cut ugly, in the corner of a map, like the old navigators?

JOLLY. We'll see, we'll see.

_Enter_ WIDOW _and_ PLEASANT _above_.

WID. I'll interrupt them. Servant, you're welcome to town. How now, nephew? what, dumb? where are all our travelled tongues?

JOLLY. Servant![212] who doth she mean? by this hand, I disclaim the t.i.tle!

PLEA. Captain, Secret has taken notes, and desires you would instruct her in what concerns a waiting-woman and an old lady.

CAPT. Very good! yet this shall not save your dinner.

WID. Nay, while you are in this humour, I'll not sell your companies; and though Master Jolly be incensed, I hope he will do me the favour to dine with me.

JOLLY. Faith, lady, you mistake me if you think I am afraid of a widow; for I would have the world know I dare meet her anywhere, but at bed.

[_Exit_ JOLLY.

WILD. No more, aunt, we'll come: and if you will give us good meat, we'll bring good humours and good stomachs.

[WIDOW _shuts the curtain_.

CARE. By this day, I'll not dine there: they take a pleasure to raise a spirit that they will not lay. I'll to Banks's.

CAPT. A pox forbid it! you shall not break company, now you know what we are to do after dinner.

CARE. I will consent, upon condition you forbid the spiritual nonsense the age calls Platonic love.

CAPT. I must away too; but I'll be there at dinner. You will join in a plot after dinner?

WILD. Anything, good, bad, or indifferent, for a friend and mirth.