Act 3 — SCENE III.
Reading edition
Holborn.
Enter Sir Alex. Wengrave, Sir Davy Dapper, and Sir Adam Appleton on one side, and Trapdoor on the other.
S. Alex. Out with your tale, sir Davy, to sir Adam:
A knave is in mine eye deep in my debt.
S. Davy. Nay, if he be a knave, sir, hold him fast.
[Sir D. Dapper and Sir A. Appleton talk apart.
S. Alex. Speak softly; what egg is there hatching now?
Trap. A duck’s egg, sir, a duck that has eaten a frog; I have cracked the shell, and some villany or other will peep out presently: the duck that sits is the bouncing ramp,[1050] that roaring girl my mistress; the drake that must tread is your son Sebastian.
S. Alex. Be quick.
Trap. As the tongue of an oyster-wench.
S. Alex. And see thy news be true.
Trap. As a barber’s every Saturday night. Mad Moll——
S. Alex. Ah——
Trap. Must be let in, without knocking, at your back gate.
S. Alex. So.
Trap. Your chamber will be made bawdy.
S. Alex. Good.
Trap. She comes in a shirt of mail.
497S. Alex. How? shirt of mail?
Trap. Yes, sir, or a male shirt; that’s to say, in man’s apparel.
S. Alex. To my son?
Trap. Close to your son: your son and her moon will be in conjunction, if all almanacs lie not; her black saveguard[1051] is turned into a deep slop, the holes of her upper body to button-holes, her waistcoat to a doublet, her placket[1052] to the ancient seat of a cod-piece, and you shall take ’em both with standing collars.
S. Alex. Art sure of this?
Trap. As every throng is sure of a pick-pocket; as sure as a whore is of the clients all Michaelmas term, and of the pox after the term.
S. Alex. The time of their tilting?
Trap. Three.
S. Alex. The day?
Trap. This.
S. Alex. Away; ply it, watch her.
Trap. As the devil doth for the death of a bawd; I’ll watch her, do you catch her.
S. Alex. She’s fast: here weave thou the nets. Hark.
Trap. They are made.
S. Alex. I told them thou didst owe me money: hold it up; maintain’t.
Trap. Stiffly, as a puritan does contention.—Pox, I owe thee not the value of a halfpenny halter.
S. Alex. Thou shalt be hang’d in it ere thou ’scape so:
Varlet, I’ll make thee look th[o]rough a grate!
498Trap. I’ll do’t presently, through a tavern grate: drawer! pish. [Exit.
S. Adam. Has the knave vex’d you, sir?
S. Alex. Ask’d him my money,
He swears my son receiv’d it. O, that boy
Will ne’er leave heaping sorrow’s on my heart,
Till he has broke it quite!
S. Adam. Is he still wild?
S. Alex. As is a Russian bear.
S. Adam. But he has left
His old haunt with that baggage?
S. Alex. Worse still and worse;
He lays on me his shame, I on him my curse.
S. Davy. My son, Jack Dapper, then shall run with him
All in one pasture.
S. Adam. Proves your son bad too, sir?
S. Davy. As villany can make him: your Sebastian
Doats but on one drab, mine on a thousand;
A noise of fiddlers,[1053] tobacco, wine, and a whore,
A mercer that will let him take up more,
Dice, and a water-spaniel with a duck,—O
Bring him a-bed with these: when his purse gingles,
Beasts Adam ne’er gave name to; these horse-leeches suck
499My son; he being drawn dry, they all live on smoke.
S. Alex. Tobacco?
S. Davy. Right: but I have in my brain
A windmill going that shall grind to dust
The follies of my son, and make him wise,
Or a stark fool. Pray lend me your advice.
S. Alex. S. Adam. } That shall you, good sir Davy.
S. Davy. Here’s the springe
I ha’ set to catch this woodcock in: an action
In a false name, unknown to him, is enter’d
I’ th’ Counter to arrest Jack Dapper.
S. Alex. S. Adam. } Ha, ha, he!
S. Davy. Think you the Counter cannot break him?
S. Adam. Break him?
Yes, and break’s heart too, if he lie there long.
S. Davy. I’ll make him sing a counter-tenor sure.
S. Adam. No way to tame him like it; there he shall learn
What money is indeed, and how to spend it.
S. Davy. He’s bridled there.
S. Alex. Ay, yet knows not how to mend it.
Bedlam cures not more madmen in a year
Than one of the Counters[1056] does; men pay more dear
There for their wit than any where: a Counter!
Why, ’tis an university, who not sees?
As scholars there, so here men take degrees,
And follow the same studies all alike.
Scholars learn first logic and rhetoric;
500So does a prisoner: with fine honey’d speech
At’s first coming in he doth persuade, beseech
He may be lodg’d with one that is not itchy,
To lie in a clean chamber, in sheets not lousy;
But when he has no money, then does he try,
By subtle logic and quaint sophistry,
To make the keepers trust him.
S. Adam. Say they do.
S. Alex. Then he’s a graduate.
S. Davy. Say they trust him not.
S. Alex. Then is he held a freshman and a sot,
And never shall commence;[1057] but being still barr’d,
Be expuls’d from the Master’s side[1058] to th’ Two-penny ward,
Or else i’ th’ Hole beg plac’d.[1059]
S. Adam. When then, I pray,
Proceeds a prisoner?
S. Alex. When, money being the theme,
He can dispute with his hard creditors’ hearts,
And get out clear, he’s then a master of arts.
Sir Davy, send your son to Wood Street college,
A gentleman can no where get more knowledge.
S. Davy. There gallants study hard.
S. Alex. True, to get money.
S. Davy. Lies[1060] by th’ heels, i’faith: thanks, thanks; I ha’ sent
For a couple of bears shall paw him.
S. Adam. Who comes yonder?
S. Davy. They look like puttocks;[1061] these should be they.
501Enter Curtleax and Hanger.
S. Alex. I know ’em,
They are officers; sir, we’ll leave you.
S. Davy. My good knights,
Leave me; you see I’m haunted now with sprites.[1062]
S. Alex. S. Adam. ] Fare you well, sir. [Exeunt.
Cur. This old muzzle-chops should be he by the fellow’s description.—Save you, sir.
S. Davy. Come hither, you mad varlets; did not my man tell you I watched here for you?
Cur. One in a blue coat,[1063] sir, told us, that in this place an old gentleman would watch for us; a thing contrary to our oath, for we are to watch for every wicked member in a city.
S. Davy. You’ll watch then for ten thousand: what’s thy name, honesty?
Cur. Sergeant Curtleax I, sir.
S. Davy. An excellent name for a sergeant, Curtleax:
Sergeants indeed are weapons of the law;
When prodigal ruffians far in debt are grown,
Should not you cut them, citizens were o’erthrown.
Thou dwell’st hereby in Holborn, Curtleax?
Cur. That’s my circuit, sir; I conjure most in that circle.
S. Davy. And what young toward whelp is this?
Han. Of the same litter; his yeoman, sir; my name’s Hanger.
S. Davy. Yeoman Hanger:
One pair of shears sure cut out both your coats;
You have two names most dangerous to men’s throats;
502You two are villanous loads on gentlemen’s backs;
Dear ware this Hanger and this Curtleax!
Cur. We are as other men are, sir; I cannot see but he who makes a shew of honesty and religion, if his claws can fasten to his liking, he draws blood: all that live in the world are but great fish and little fish, and feed upon one another; some eat up whole men, a sergeant cares but for the shoulder of a man. They call us knaves and curs; but many times he that sets us on worries more lambs one year than we do in seven.
S. Davy. Spoke like a noble Cerberus! is the action entered?
Han. His name is entered in the book of unbelievers.
S. Davy. What book’s that?
Cur. The book where all prisoners’ names stand; and not one amongst forty, when he comes in, believes to come out in haste.
S. Davy. Be as dogged to him as your office allows you to be.
Both. O sir!
S. Davy. You know the unthrift, Jack Dapper?
Cur. Ay, ay, sir, that gull, as well as I know my yeoman.
S. Davy. And you know his father too, sir Davy Dapper?
Cur. As damned a usurer as ever was among Jews: if he were sure his father’s skin would yield him any money, he would, when he dies, flay it off, and sell it to cover drums for children at Bartholomew fair.
S. Davy. What toads are these to spit poison on a man to his face! [Aside.]—Do you see, my honest rascals? yonder Greyhound is the dog he hunts with; out of that tavern Jack Dapper 503will sally: sa, sa; give the counter; on, set upon him!
Both. We’ll charge him upo’ th’ back, sir.
S. Davy. Take no bail; put mace[1064] enough into his caudle; double your files, traverse your ground.
Both. Brave, sir.
S. Davy. Cry arm, arm, arm!
Both. Thus, sir.
S. Davy. There, boy, there, boy! away: look to your prey, my true English wolves; and so I vanish. [Exit.
Cur. Some warden of the sergeants begat this old fellow, upon my life: stand close.
Han. Shall the ambuscado lie in one place?
Cur. No; nook thou yonder. [They retire.
Enter Moll and Trapdoor.
Moll. Ralph.
Trap. What says my brave captain male and female?
Moll. This Holborn is such a wrangling street!
Trap. That’s because lawyers walk[1065] to and fro in’t.
Moll. Here’s such jostling, as if every one we met were drunk and reeled.
Trap. Stand, mistress! do you not smell carrion?
Moll. Carrion? no; yet I spy ravens.
Trap. Some poor, wind-shaken gallant will anon fall into sore labour, and these men-midwives[1066] must bring him to bed i’ the counter: there all those that are great with child with debts lie in.
504Moll. Stand up.
Trap. Like your new Maypole.
Han. Whist, whew!
Cur. Hump, no.
Moll. Peeping? it shall go hard, huntsmen, but I’ll spoil your game. They look for all the world like two infected malt-men coming muffled up in their cloaks in a frosty morning to London.
Trap. A course, captain; a bear comes to the stake.
Enter Jack Dapper and Gull.
Moll. It should be so, for the dogs struggle to be let loose.
Han. Whew!
Cur. Hemp.
Moll. Hark, Trapdoor, follow your leader.
J. Dap. Gull.
Gull. Master?
J. Dap. Didst ever see such an ass as I am, boy?
Gull. No, by my troth, sir; to lose all your money, yet have false dice of your own; why, ’tis as I saw a great fellow used t’other day; he had a fair sword and buckler, and yet a butcher dry beat him with a cudgel.
Trap.[1067] Honest servant, fly!
Moll. Fly, master Dapper! you’ll be arrested else.
J. Dap. Run, Gull, and draw.
Gull. Run, master; Gull follows you.
[Exeunt Dapper and Gull.
Cur. [Moll holding him] I know you well enough; you’re but a whore to hang upon any man!
Moll. Whores, then, are like sergeants; so now 505hang you.—Draw, rogue, but strike not: for a broken pate they’ll keep their beds, and recover twenty marks[1068] damages.
Cur. You shall pay for this rescue.—Run down Shoe Lane and meet him.
Trap. Shu! is this a rescue, gentlemen, or no?
Moll. Rescue? a pox on ’em! Trapdoor, let’s away;
[Exeunt Curtleax and Hanger.’s
I’m glad I’ve done perfect one good work to-day.
If any gentleman be in scrivener’s bands,
Send but for Moll, she’ll bail him by these hands.
[Exeunt.