The Works of John Dryden, Vol. II | Page 7

But what am I the better for this? I ne'er made jest in all my life.
_Fail._ A bare clinch will serve the turn; a car-wichet, a quarter-quibble, or a pun.
Burr. Wit from a Low Country soldier! One, that has conversed with none but dull Dutchmen these ten years! What an unreasonable rogue art thou? why, I tell thee, 'tis as difficult to me, as to pay him ready money.
Fail. Come, you shall be ruled for your own good; I'll throw the clothes over you to help meditation. And, upon the first opportunity, start you up, and surprise him with a jest.
Burr. Well, I think this impossible to be done: but, however, I'll attempt. [_Lies down_, FAILER covers him.
Fail. Husht! he's coming up.
Enter BIBBER.
Bib. 'Morrow, Mr Failer: What, I warrant you think I come a dunning now?
Fail. No, I vow to gad, Will; I have a better opinion of thy wit, than to think thou would'st come to so little purpose.
Bib. Pretty well that: No, no, my business is to drink my morning's-draught in sack with you.
Fail. Will not ale serve thy turn, Will?
Bib. I had too much of that last night; I was a little disguised, as they say.
Fail. Why disguised? Hadst thou put on a clean band, or washed thy face lately? Those are thy disguises, Bibber.
Bib. Well, in short, I was drunk; damnably drunk with ale; great hogan-mogan bloody ale: I was porterly drunk, and that I hate of all things in nature.
_Burr, rising_.] And of all things in nature I love it best.
Bib. Art thou there, i'faith? and why, old boy?
Burr. Because, when I am porterly drunk, I can carry myself.
Bib. Ha, ha, boy.
Fail. This porter brings sad news to you, Will; you must trust him for a suit of clothes, as bad as 'tis: Come, he's an honest fellow, and loves the king.
Bib. Why, it shall be my suit to him, that I may trust him.
Burr. I grant your suit, sir.
Fail. Burr, make haste and dress you; Sir Timorous dines here to-day: you know him?
Burr. Aye, aye, a good honest young fellow; but no conjurer; he and I are very kind.
Fail. Egad, we two have a constant revenue out of him: He would now be admitted suitor to my Lady Constance Nonsuch, my Lord Nonsuch's daughter; our neighbour here in Fleetstreet.
Burr. Is the match in any forwardness?
Fail. He never saw her before yesterday, and will not be brought to speak to her this month yet.
Burr. That's strange.
Fail. Such a bashful knight did I never see; but we must move for him.
Bib. They say, here's a great dinner to be made to-day here, at your cousin Trice's, on purpose for the interview.
Burr. What, he keeps up his old humour still?
Fail. Yes, certain; he admires eating and drinking well, as much as ever, and measures every man's wit by the goodness of his palate.
Burr. Who dines here besides?
Fail. Jack Loveby.
Bib. O, my guest.
Burr. He has ever had the repute of a brave clear-spirited fellow.
Fail. He's one of your Dear Hearts, a debauchee.
Burr. I love him the better for't: The best heraldry of a gentleman is a clap, derived to him from three generations. What fortune has he?
Fail. Good fortune at all games; but no estate: He had one; but he has made a devil on't long ago. He's a bold fellow, I vow to gad: A person, that keeps company with his betters; and commonly has gold in's pockets. Come, Bibber, I see thou longest to be at thy morning's watering: I'll try what credit I have with the butler.
Bib. Come away, my noble Festus and new customer.
Fail. Now will he drink, till his face be no bigger than a three-pence. [Exeunt.
SCENE II.
_Enter LOVEBY and BOY; followed by FRANCES, BIBBER'S wife_.
Lov. Nay, the devil take thee, sweet landlady, hold thy tongue: Was't not enough thou hast scolded me from my lodging, which, as long as I rent it, is my castle; but to follow me here to Mr Trice's, where I am invited; and to discredit me before strangers, for a lousy, paltry sum of money?
Fran. I tell you truly, Mr Loveby, my husband and I cannot live by love, as they say; we must have wherewithal, as they say; and pay for what we take; or some shall smoke fort.
Lov. Smoke! why a piece of hung beef in Holland is not more smoked, than thou hast smoked me already. Thou knowest I am now fasting; let me have but fair play; when I have lined my sides with a good dinner, I'll engage upon reputation to come home again, and thou shall scold at me all the afternoon.
Fran. I'll take the law on you.
Lov. The law allows none to scold in their own causes: What dost thou think the lawyers take our money for?
Fran. I hope you