Robert Dodsley

“ Most beautiful, fair and virtuous mistress, whose face is a burning-glass, and hath set me on fire. My sugar-plum and stewed-prune lady, whose fine sharp nose, like Cupid's darts, hath pricked me to the heart! Whiter than the curds thou sell'st, softer than the silk thou wearest, milder than the four-shilling beer thou drink'st! Venus, I believe, was a fresh cheese and cream woman, and, letting fall her pail, made the Milky Way, but yet came as far short of thee, my sweet, honey Nancy, as whey of butter-milk or skimmed milk of cream! ”

“ Man may receive what he can never merit!
Be not thou cruel, my Artemia;
Do not torment me with thy grief, and make
Me die before my time: let hope a while
Suspend thy sorrow; if the worst should fall,
Thy sorrow would but more enfeeble me,
And make me suffer faintly for thy sake.
Art. If worst should fall, my love (which heaven forfend) ,
How could I choose but suffer?
Euph. I will hope
Your safety yet may well be wrought; and knowing
Sir Argent's mind, you know what ways to trust.
Art. Good cousin, help us with thy counsel now,
If thou dost love my life. ”

“ Ditty. How now, Budget? Can you sing your ballad yet? Come, are you perfect?
Bud. Not yet, Ditty; but is't to the tune o' th' Bleeding Heart, do you say?
Ditty. Ay, ay; but what makes you so pale, Budget? There's a cup of ale at mine host Welcome's will make your nose of another colour.
Bud. O Ditty, there is a nail knocked into my heart! It pricks, it pricks.
Gum. Why, if you can't wrench it out, we'll send for a smith.
Ditty. Has Cupid played the joiner with you, then? Who is't he has fastened to your heart with that nail? What metal is she made of, that you cannot hammer her? ”

“ Mine; for thou know'st, when I am dead, this kingdom
Thy father will inherit or thyself.
'Tis but the waiting of an old man's death,
Who cannot long outlive me: will you do't?
Thyr. Sir, you are noble, I do see you are,
You lov'd this lady once: by that dear love—
With me it was a conjuration
To draw my soul out, whilst I was so happy—
I do beseech you spare her noble life,
Her death will sit full heavy on your soul,
And in your height of kingly dignities
Disturb that head which crowns will give no rest to.
To take my life is justice. ”

“ Come, I will work my husband: stay this grief.
The longest sorrow finds at last relief.
Enter Clown.
Now, sir, your business?
Clown. Marry, mistress, here are two creatures, scarce able to make one man, desire to speak with you.
Wife. What are they? Know their names.
Clown. Nay, I know that already: the one is a thing that was plucked into the world by the head and shoulders to be wondered at, and 'tis called a knight; the other is a coach-horse of the same overridden race, and that's a foolish gentleman. ”

“ In my grief's descant, when you're vex'd at heart:
Your second choice will differ from the first;
So oft as widows marry, they are accurs'd.
Clown. Ay, cursed widows are; but if they had all stiff husbands to tame 'em, they'd be quiet enough.
Wid. You'll be gone, sir, and see dinner ready.
Clown. I care not if I do, mistress, now my stomach's ready;
Yet I'll stay a little, an't be but to vex you.
Wid. When go you, sirrah?
Clown. I will not go yet.
Wid. Ha, ha, ha! thou makest me laugh at thee; prythee, stay.
Clown. Nay, then, I'll go to vex you. ”

“ Jane. Should I wed you, the fire with frost must marry,
January and May! I for a younger tarry.
Lamb. That's I! In troth, I'll be thy young Lambskin; thou shalt find me as innocent as a sucking dove. Speak, sweet mistress, am I the youth in a basket?
Jane. You are the sweet youth, sir, whose pretty eyes
Would make me love; but you must first be wise.
Speed. Ha, ha! Is your coxcomb cut? I see experience must board this fair pinnace. A word in private. ”

“ Paid scot and lot, old Timothy Credulous
My father—though I say it, that should not.
Sir T. I don't regard this thing that you call blood;
'Tis a mere name, a sound.
Mean. Your worship speaks
Just like yourself: methinks he's noble
That's truly rich. Men may talk much of lines,
Of arms, of blood, of race, of pedigree:
Houses, descents and families; they are
But empty noise, God knows; the idle breath
Of that puff nothing, honour; formal words,
Fit for the tongues of men that ne'er knew yet
What stem, what gentry, nay, what virtue lies
In great revenues. ”

“ Euph. How some men's poetry happens to be rewarded!
Lady W. Shall we go in? But, prythee, Euphues,
What is the reason sweet Artemia,
Thy cousin, is not here?
Euph. I know not, madam;
But her pretence was business. I am going
To visit her. If you go in to keep
Th' old couple company, I'll fetch her to you.
Lady W. I prythee, do! Farewell. Come, servant,
Shall we go in?
Dot. I'll wait upon you, mistress. ”

“ As barely poor as nature thrust him out;
[Pg 506] Nay worse—though spirits boil: rage, anger, care,
And grief, like wild-horse, tear the affrighted mind;
Though wrongs excoriate the heart; yet all is sweeten'd
If vengeance have her course. I reck [324] not how;
Let commonwealth expire, and owls proclaim
Sad desolation in our halls; let heaps
Of dust and rubbish epitaph our towns;
Let fire and water fight, who first shall spoil
This universal frame. From north or south,
Revenge, th' art welcome! No sin worse than pity;
A tyrant's only physic is phlebotomy. ”

“ Pray tell me, Daphnis—you are young and handsome,
The lover of our fairest nymph Nerina—
Would you, for all that fruitful Sicily
Can yield, or all the wealth of Persia,
Change one poor lock of your fair mistress' hair,
Whilst she is yours, and you her shepherd are?
Daph. Would she were mine, I'd ask no portion.
Mir. Spoke like a lover of the ancient stamp!
Char. Son, son, she shall be yours: why, am not I
Her father, she my daughter? May not I
Bestow her where I please?
Mir. Yes, if she like
The man, she will bestow herself, ne'er fear it. ”

“ Sir, 'twas my business in your courteous tongue
To put the arbitration. I have again
(Discover'd by my mother) reliev'd my poor uncle;
Whose anger now so great is multiplied,
I dare not venture in the eye of either,
Till your persuasions [shall] with fair excuse
Have made my satisfaction.
Brew. Mother-o'-pearl! sir, 'tis a shrewd task;
Yet I'll do my best: your father hath so good news,
That I hope 'twill be a fair motive to't;
But women's tongues are dangerous stumbling-blocks
To lie in the way of peace.
Enter George.
Now, George?
George. Master Foster's coming, sir. ”

“ Bung. Not one, sir; our old charwoman, Mary, has not called for her morning's draught yet—she that's the tub for all men's snuffs, and devours me more tappings than would serve to make strong waters for an army.
Wel. Sure, all the beer that was drunk yesterday had poppy in't instead of malt; and people are not yet awake, or else they mistake my house for a prison, and my old lattice for grates. Come, Bung, we'll give ourselves handsel; go, fill's a lusty pot of ale. [Exit Bung.] ”

“ SCENE II. Mistress Potluck.
Pot. Now help, good heaven! 'tis such an uncouth thing
To be a widow out of term-time: I
Do feel such aguish qualms and dumps, and fits,
And shakings still an end! I lately was
A wife, I do confess; but yet I had
No husband; he, alas! was dead to me,
Even when he lived unto the world: I was
A widow, whilst he breath'd. His death did only
Make others know so much ”

“ Sir Arg. Have I liv'd all this while to be o'er-reach'd
And cheated by a woman? I'll forsake her
Immediately.
Fruit. Sir, 'tis a happy thing,
When men can love with such discretion,
As to forsake when they shall see just cause.
Some are so fond in their affections
That, though provok'd by all the injuries
That can be offer'd, they can never leave
The mistress of their hearts.
Sir Arg. I warrant her,
For any such affection in old Argent.
Fruit. I do believe it, sir; you are too wise. ”

“ If you do wish it a continuance, 'tis in your power to make it last to ages. Since my Milesia's death, I have not loved a lady equal with your Hermione; in her I hope to lose my swollen misfortunes, and find out a joy that may extinguish them. 'Tis now no time to tell her how much I am her servant; for this lord here, that does pretend to her fair graces, before I had declared myself his rival—perchance you would believe me if I had said, he no way doth deserve her. ”

“ And you besides are mistress of your own.
And all the charitable deeds, which you
After your death shall do, as building schools
Or hospitals, shall go in your own name;
Which otherwise Sir Argent Scrape would have,
And with your riches build himself a fame.
Lady C. I grant 'tis true: but will it not seem strange
That I should serve him so?
Fruit. Strange, madam! no;
Nothing is now more usual: all your widows
Of aldermen, that marry lords of late,
Make over their estates, and by that means
Retain a power to curb their lordly husbands. ”

“ Let it go on; let it work something farther:
'Tis almost ripe enough to crush. He hath not
Crept high enough as yet to be sensible
Of any fall.
Slicer. Now is the time, or never.
This night, you know, he and his doxy meet;
Let me alone to give them their good-morrow.
If that we carry things but one week longer
Without discovery, farewell London then:
The world's our own. He ne'er deserves to thrive
That doth not venture for it: wealth's then sweet,
When bought with hazard. Fate this law hath set;
The fool inherits, but the wise must get. ”

“ Grave sir, in whose rich bounty it must lie,
To make me happy in conferring on me
So bright a jewel as Artemia,
'Tis your consent I beg.
Free. You have it freely;
Her heart I know she gave you long ago,
And here I give her hand.
Eug. A richer gift
Than any monarch of the world can give:
Bless'd happiness? Gently my joys distil, [20]
Lest you do break the vessel you should fill.
Enter Barnet, Dotterel, Lady Whimsey. ”

“ Phor. At these games of love we set all; but the best is, we cannot stake, and there's no loss of credit in the breaking. Cleon, hast thou seen him with his mistress?
Cle. Yes, and he stands gazing on her, as if he were begging of an alms.
Phor. 'Tis not ill-done; but does he not speak to her?
Cle. Never but in hyperboles; tells her, her eyes are stars, which astronomers should only study to know our fate by.
Phor. 'Tis not amiss if she have neither of the extremes. ”

“ Enter the Moor on her bed, Hermione, Phillida, and Irene. The bed thrust out.
Moor. O, O, O gods! If I have merited your hate,
[Pg 607] You might have laid it on, until my name
Had been a word to express full misery,
And I had thank'd you, if you had forborne
To make his innocence the instrument
Of your dire wrath. Hermione, Irene,
I have conjur'd my servants not to tell you,
When I am dead, who I was: but if
Their weakness shall discover't, let it be hid
From the best Lysicles: I burn, I burn,
And death dares not seize me, frighted
With the furies that torment me. ”

“ Are the same things
Seen in this new world as they are in th' other?
Or in the grave do men see waters, trees,
As I do now, and all things, as I liv'd?
But (sure) I live still. If I do, why then
Was I here buried amongst these flowers?
Sure, I am dead; but yet I walk and speak,
And I have heard that those who once are dead
Can never use their voice or action.
But who is this I see here? Daphnis, ha!
Are you dead too, as well as I?
Daph. No, sweet;
I live to be the servant of Nerina.
Ner. Ay, so said Hylas, whilst I liv'd with him.
Daph. She thinks of Hylas still: what shall I do? ”

“ Ire. Thou wouldst weep in thy grave, Phillida; yet the worst is, thou wilt lose more within this seven years than thou hast got in ten; for men are changeable, sweet Phillida.
Phil. And our faces were not, 'twere no matter. They should make haste, or we should overtake them, or prevent them. A commodity of beauty, that would last forty years, would bear a good price, madam.
Ire. By Venus, would it, Phillida! as high as that of honour.
Phil. But is not my lady a strange woman to weep thus for one servant, when she has another in his place? ”

“ Sir Arg. I hope I shall know how to keep mine own.
Euph. I do begin to pity the poor lady.
Free. This has wrought goodness in her. Who are these?
Enter Earthworm and Theodore.
My neighbour Earthworm? Lord! how he is chang'd!
Earth. 'Twas basely done, and like a covetous wretch,
I'll tell him to his face: what care I for him?
I have a purse as well as he.
Euph. How's this?
Earth. Betray a kinsman's life to purchase wealth!
O, detestable!
Euph. O miraculous change!
Do you not hear him, uncle?
Earth. Master Freeman, happily met.
Free. Sir, I am glad to see you. ”

“ Lys. Our causes are not equal.
Eug. They will be, when you're dead. How you mistake
[Pg 617] The laws of friendship, and commit those faults
You did accuse me of! I would not live so long
To think you can survive your dying friend.
Lys. Eugenio, I am conquered; yet I hope thy kindness
Will do that for me which thy sword refuseth.
Love thy Hermione: she deserves it. Friend,
Leave me alone awhile.
Eug. Your grief's too great for me to trust your life with't:
I dare not venture you beyond my help.
Within. Where's Prince Lysicles? Where's Prince Lysicles? ”

“ Slicer. Th' art a dry devil, troubled with the lust
Of that thou hast not, flesh.
Pot. Rogue, rascal, villain!
I'll show your cheating tricks, i' faith: all shall
Be now laid open. Have I suffer'd you
Thus long i' my house, and ne'er demanded yet
One penny rent for this? I'll have it all:
By this good blessed light, I will!
Hear. You may,
If that you please undo yourself; you may:
I will not strive to hinder you. There is
Something contriving for you, which may be
Perhaps yet brought about: a match or so;
A proper fellow: 'tis a trifle, that;
A thing you care not for, I know. ”

“ I would I were a man for his sake.
Ire. So you told him, and he, still courteous for all your anger, promised to give you what you wanted of a man, or teach you how to make one.
Her. Thou wilt never be old, wench, if thou still keep'st this humour.
Ire. Not a sigh older these seven years, if't please Sir Cupid; for he blows our bellows. [Enter Ergasto and Cleon.] But look, yonder's your servant, there's no starting now; you must stand to't. ”