The Puritan Widow (Folio 3, 1664)
Not Peer Reviewed
¶Porter.
¶Pye. A few friends here.---pray is the Gentleman
¶your Master within?
¶I pray you, have you forgot me.
¶tell him of you, please you to walk here in the Gallery till
¶he comes.
¶fair coming in, and the wicket, else I neither knew him
¶nor his worship, but 'tis happiness he is within doors,
¶what so'ere he be, if he be not too much a formal Citizen,
1290he may do me good: Serjeant and Yeoman, how do you
¶ne're knew me: No matter, what is forgot in you, will be
1295remembred in your Master.
¶A pritty comfortable room this methinks:
¶Put. Oh dog-holes to't.
¶Pye. Dog-holes indeed---I can tell you I have great
1300hope to have my Chamber here shortly, nay and dyet
¶takes: you would little think it? and what a fine Gallery
1305
Enter Gentleman.
¶Pye. Look what maps, and pictures, and devices, and
¶to your worship.
¶count of him.
¶extreams makes me boulder then I would be; I am a poor
¶Gentleman and a Schollar, and now most unfortunately
1320falne into the hands of unmercifull Officers, arrested for
¶utterly to perish, and with fees and extortions be pincht
1325clean to the bone: Now, if ever pitty had interest in the
¶favour that means of my escape, which I have already
¶thought upon.
¶Gent. Go forward.
1330Put. I warrant he likes it rarely.
¶Pye. In the plunge of my extremities, being giddy,
¶and doubtfull what to do; at last it was put in my labour-
¶ing thoughts, to make a happy use of this paper, and to
¶blear their unlettered eyes, I told them there was a Device
1335for a Mask drawn in't, and that (but for their intercep-
¶tion,) I was going to a Gentleman to receive my reward
¶for't: they greedy at this word, and hoping to make pur-
¶chase of me, offered their attendance, to go along with
¶me, my hap was to make bold with your door, sir, which
¶entrance, and I hope I have happened right upon under-
¶then, but to uphold my Device, which is to let one of your
¶men put me out at a back door, and I shall be bound to
1345your worship for ever.
¶Gent. By my troth, an excellent Device.
¶derfully.
¶Gent. A my faith, I never heard a better.
¶Serjeant.
¶Put. O there's no talk on't, he's an excellent Schollar,
¶Gent. Give me your Paper, your Device; I was never
1355better pleas'd in all my life: good wit, brave wit, finely
¶You heard how he like't it now?
1360go thy wayes, thou art a fine witty fellow ifaith, thou
¶Pye. I, I, that I will,---look Serjeants, here are Maps,
¶and pretty toyes, be doing in the mean time, I shall quick-
¶ly have told out the money, you know.
1365Put. Go, go, little villain, fetch thy chinck, I begin
¶to love thee, I'le be drunk to night in thy company.
¶Pye. This Gentleman I may well call a part
¶For he has sav'd me from three hungry Devils.
1370
Exit George.
¶things, but I could nere fancie them yet, me thinks they're
¶all the World's in one of them, but I could nere find the
1375Counter in the Poultry.
¶you know there's a company of bare fellows there.
¶much before. Sirrah Serjeant, and Yeoman, I should
1385out of door in 'em, oh we might have'em in a morning to
¶ground a whole day for 'em.
1390Five pound receiv'd, let's talk of that.
¶I have a trick worth all, you two shall bear him toth'Ta-
1395full of hazard: what will you say if I bring it to pass, that
¶Put. Why I would call thee King of Serjeants, and
1400ever.
¶Ra. Well, put it to me, we'll make a Night on't ifaith.
¶so long.
¶Put. He tarries long indeed, may be, I can tell you,
1405upon the good liking on't the Gentleman may prove
¶more bountifull.
¶him light enough.
1410
Enter the Gentleman.
¶Ra. Oh here comes the Gentleman, by your leave, Sir.
¶to stay for a friend of ours, that went in with your wor-
1415ship.
¶Gen. Who? not the Schollar?
1420Rav. How, Sir?
¶Gen. I paid him his money, and my man told me he
¶went out at back-door.
¶Put. Back-door?
¶Gen. Why, what's the matter?
¶Gen. What he was not? you the Sheriff's Officers---
¶you were too blame then,
¶Why did you not make known to me as much;
¶I could have kept him for you, I protest,
1430He receiv'd all of me in Britain Gold,
¶Of the last coyning.
¶Ra Vengeance dog him with't.
1435Put. Sup Simon, now, eat Porridge for a month.
¶Well, we cannot impute it to any lack of good will in
¶your Worship,--you did but as another would have
¶done, 'twas our hard fortunes to miss the purchase, but
¶if e'er we clutch him again, the Counter shall charm him.
¶Gent. So,
¶Vex out your Lungs without doors, I am proud,
¶It was my hap to help him, it fell fit,
1445He went not empty neither for his wit:
¶Alas poor wretch, I could not blame his brain,
¶To labour his delivery, to be free,
¶From their unpittying fangs,--I'me glad it stood,
¶Within my power to do a Scholar good.
Exit.
