The Puritain Widow | Page 7

time is dropt out of her Eyes: device well managed may do good upon her: it stands firm, my first practise shall be there.
SKIRMISH. You have my voice, George.
PYE. Sh'as a gray Gull to her Brother, a fool to her only son, and an Ape to her youngest Daughter.--I overheard 'em severally, and from their words I'll derive my device; and thou, old Peter Skirmish, shall be my second in all slights.
SKIRMISH. Ne'er doubt me, George Pye-board,--only you must teach me to conjure.
[Enter Captain Idle, pinioned, and with a guard of Officers passeth over the Stage.]
PYE. Puh, I'll perfect thee, Peter.--How now? what's he?
SKIRMISH. Oh George! this sight kills me. Tis my sworn Brother, Captain Idle.
PYE. Captain Idle!
SKIRMISH. Apprehended for some felonious act or other. He has started out, h'as made a Night on't, lackt silver. I cannot but commend his resolution; he would not pawn his Buff-Jerkin. I would either some of us were employed, or might pitch our Tents at Usurers' doors, to kill the slaves as they peep out at the Wicket.
PYE. Indeed, those are our ancient Enemies; they keep our money in their hands, and make us to be hangd for robbing of 'em. But, come, let's follow after to the Prison, and know the Nature of his offence; and what we can steed him in, he shall be sure of; and I'll uphold it still, that a charitable Knave is better then a soothing Puritain.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. A Street.
[Enter at one door Corporal Oath, a Vain-glorious fellow; and at the other, three of the Widdow Puritain's Servingmen, Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint-Mary-Overaries, and Frailty, in black scurvy mourning coats, and Books at their Girdles, as coming from Church. They meet.]
NICHOLAS. What, Corporal Oath? I am sorry we have met with you, next our hearts; you are the man that we are forbidden to keep company withall. We must not swear I can tell you, and you have the name for swearing.
SIMON. Aye, Corporal Oath, I would you would do so much as forsake us, sir; we cannot abide you, we must not be seen in your company.
FRAILTY. There is none of us, I can tell you, but shall be soundly whipt for swearing.
CORPORAL. Why, how now, we three? Puritanical Scrape-shoes, Flesh a good Fridays! a hand.
ALL. Oh!
CORPORAL. Why, Nicholas Saint-Tantlings, Simon Saint Mary Ovaries, ha's the De'el possest you, that you swear no better? you half-Christned Catomites, you ungod-mothered Varlets, do's the first lesson teach you to be proud, and the second to be Cocks-combs? proud Cocks-combs! not once to do duty to a man of Mark!
FRAILTY. A man of Mark, quatha! I do not think he can shew a Begger's Noble.
CORPORAL. A Corporal, a Commander, one of spirit, that is able to blow you up all dry with your Books at your Girdles.
SIMON. We are not taught to believe that, sir, for we know the breath of man is weak.
[Corporal breathes upon Frailty.]
FRAILTY. Foh, you lie, Nicholas; for here's one strong enough. Blow us up, quatha: he may well blow me above twelve-score off an him. I warrant, if the wind stood right, a man might smell him from the top of Newgate, to the Leads of Ludgate.
CORPORAL. Sirrah, thou Hollow-Book of Max-candle--
NICHOLAS. Aye, you may say what you will, so you swear not.
CORPORAL. I swear by the--
NICHOLAS. Hold, hold, good Corporal Oath; for if you swear once, we shall all fall down in a swoon presently.
CORPORAL. I must and will swear: you quivering Cocks-combs, my Captain is imprisoned, and by Vulcan's Leather Cod-piece point--
NICHOLAS. O Simon, what an oath was there.
FRAILTY. If he should chance to break it, the poor man's Breeches would fall down about his heels, for Venus allows him but one point to his hose.
CORPORAL. With these my Bully-Feet I will thump ope the Prison doors, and brain the Keeper with the begging Box, but I'll see my honest sweet Captain Idle at liberty.
NICHOLAS. How, Captain Idle? my old Aunt's son, my dear Kinsman, in Capadochio?
CORPORAL. Aye, thou Church-peeling, thou Holy-paring, religious outside, thou! if thou hadst any grace in thee, thou would'st visit him, relieve him, swear to get him out.
NICHOLAS. Assure you, Corporal, indeed-lam tis the first time I heard on't.
CORPORAL. Why do't now, then, Marmaset: bring forth thy yearly-wages, let not a Commander perish!
SIMON. But, if he be one of the wicked, he shall perish.
NICHOLAS. Well, Corporal, I'll e'en them along with you, to visit my Kinsman: if I can do him any good, I will,--but I have nothing for him. Simon Saint Mary Ovaries and Frailty, pray make a lie for me to the Knight my Master, old Sir Godfrey.
CORPORAL. A lie? may you lie then?
FRAILTY. O, aye, we may lie, but we must not swear.
SIMON. True, we may lie with our Neighbor's wife, but we must not