THE COMMITTEE-MAN CURRIED.
A COMEDY presented to the view of all Men.
Written by S. SHEPPARD.
A piece discovering the corruption of Committee-men, and Excise-men; the unjust sufferings of the Royall party, the divellish hypocrisie of some Round-heads, the revolt for gaine of some Ministers.
Not without pleasant mirth, and variety.
Printed Anno Dom. 1647.
The Prologue.
Dramatis Personae.
- SUck-dry, a Committee-man, a lover of Hornes wife.
- Sneake, his Clearke.
- Common-curse, an Excize-man.
- Shallow-braines, his Clearke.
- Loyalty, a Cavaliere.
- Rebellion, a Round-head, Ʋnkle to Loyalty.
- Horne, a contented Citizen.
- Light-heele, his Wife.
- Da-mee, a Ruffian, her Lemman.
- Time-server, a Priest.
- A Servant. A Drawer. Fidlers.
The Sceane LONDON.
THE COMMITTEE-MAN CURRIED.
ACTƲS 1.
SCENA 1.
Hei, ho.
Thou dull and sordid lumpe, unweildy as the bulke Prometheus fram'd ere he infusd life in it; open thy closed eyes.
Hei, ho.
I shall be quite undone, and loose my place; —Slave—Ile kick thee into sense.
This roome so swarmes with Fleas, I neare can sleep in quiet.
O Rogue — is this a time to kill 'um,—when all my brethren in full assembly met expect my presence— and ere I come, perhaps may share the Gold that's due to me— villaine rowse thy selfe—not yet—
[...]old sir —this sitting up a nights—hei, ho.
Shake thy selfe Rogue—where is my Gown — 'sdeath be nimble in thy motion — bring me that Parchment bundle — those blankes to signe on all occasions; — I had almost forgot — bring me those Orders too were coyned yesterday to leavy moneys for the reliefe of Ireland. — Let's away,
Ile pocket up the Commons Coyn to day.
SCEAN 2.
How now sir—
How now sir — slave I would see thy Master; —I must have —
What sir, —his Purse?
Doe rich men keepe such Curs to snarle at strangers? — Tis fit I doe chastise thy sawcinesse; Learn manners for the future.
O help, help.
Suspend your wrath sir, till you heare my plea; your servants language 'twas that drew a danger from my arme.
After expence of time, of blood, of sweat, I come to see you Unkle and expect — at least a verball welcome.
He hath's damnation seald that harbours thee — thou enemy to goodnesse; thou that hast dar'd to ayde thy Soveraigne Lord, and fight against those that doe seeke his [Page] welfare, who have a Nation before dull, and lumpish, now made expert and prompt in active warre, have taught the people for to know the worth of gentle peace, the horrors waite on warre, have learnt them how to pine themselves with want; while they doe pamper those that doe reforme them, have sold them precious wisdome which they've gain'd, onely with losse of LIFE, of GOODS, of FAME.
By Jive he speakes all Oracle; and may they have no other Trumpet for to noyse out their Fame then thy unwary tongue. —Sir I had thoughts did prompt me to make known my wants and penury unto you; but in perswading you to bounty, I shall but imitate a foolish wave, that seekes to penetrate a Rocke. — God buy sir, — May you and all your Tribe finde the like comfort from the rigid Judge, whenas you'l stand pleading to live yet longer. All Climates are alike unto a generous soule, he is CIVIS MUNDI. France, I come into thy armes, thou spreadst them wide to entertaine those loyall Subjects flie to thee for shelter.
ACT. 2.
SAyst thou the Butchers threaten to knock down who ere shall rate their Cattell.
Yes sir, and they adde tis great injustice their Bullocks should bring in so great a gaine into Guild-hall, due unto them, purchast with paine and sweat: and yet the Shee-sellers of Mutton in Turnball-street, Spring-garden, and Crosse-lane, passe without paying tole for Maydenheads, sell flesh at dearer rates then they, and yet pay no Excise.
It were not for the credit of the State thou foole to [Page] make a gaine of sinne, and like Romes Bishop receive tythes from the Brothels.
Come along SNEAKE,—thou must fill up those blankes to night
Very like sir, would nature had produc't Geese without quils, — I should not have—
M r COMMON-CURSE, happily met, and how, and how goes squares; — does thy bags strut like to the udder of a Cow? — these times will make us all.—Pray Heaven they hold the name of peace sounds in my eares like to the Ravens croaking—it sings my Dirge.—But stay I heard sad news this evening.
What news?
That the Cow-killers of Cowlane, and Smithfieldbars have burnt down the Excise house.
Were that news true, 'twould scorch my heart to tind r. — I ever fear'd those masty knaves would muteny; tis a sad OMEN, and prognosticates the Excise is not long liv'd.
The foolish Commons now 'gin to wax wise, they'r wak't out of their dreame, and finde their fancy has deluded them, — they doe begin to thinke o'the daies of yore, when as their coine, and children were their own.
Ha—what noise is that, runne SHALLOW-BRAINES, and learn the cause.
Thou tremblest as if thy sinnes had met thee, or thy fathers ghost.
I feare the rage o'the incensed multitude, whose malice is inveterate against me.— Pray heaven they make not this way.
The occasion of the shout was this sir; the Butchers are releast from the burden o'the Excize, and to expresse their joy they rend the ayre with clamour; this night they doe intend to have the Bels ring merrily, each where Bonefires made; and on a pile of wood they've tide the picture of an Excise man, shapt with reeds; and him they sacrifice to the God of fire.
Methinks the fire doth parch my limbs; so would they serve me, had they what they would.
O SUCKDRY, this is the first day of my ruine.
Cheare up man, thou shalt not fall alone; we two, like Hypocrates twins, must live and die together: the Excise is the Committees prop, and but drawn with desire of that sweet gaine the Excize doth daily bring us, would we so venter, thinkst thou; and privately hoord up the coyne is lent upon the publique Faith, casting behind our backs the thought of feare? — Good fellows still envy the drinke they swallow, Beere and Tobacco still bring in Excise, with all things else of worth, and vendible.
Had I not met thee, I had sure ere this dissolv'd into a Jelly, —this harsh news astonisht so my sences;—This is Algate,—lets to the Sunne and taste a pint of Sack,—'tis Wine alone can mitigate my feares.
Nere doubt it sir.
ACT. 3.
THis is legitimate blood of the rich corsick Grape; fill me a boule, that I may bathe my head in 't, and rise like Phaebus from the East, shaking my dewy locks. —I now could rarely Poetize; — No marvell the hungry Poets talke of Tantalus, of Jaion, and of Titius; of fell Maegera, Tisiphone, and Alecto, when Sack doth shape Chimeras in their braines — Methinks I could create a second Hell, and place bless'd soules in an Elizium, the ancient Bards nere dreampt of.
He's inspired.
Boy, some Wine.
I come, I come sir.
Gentlemen will you have a straine of mirth?
I am all ayrie now — Come all at once, and let your mellodie in discords please, to which wee I foot it, as those loose quarries, that o're-heard Orpheus, and his harpe.
— More wine, I now begin for to have merry thoughts, — more wine, — the newest ayre you have.
A SONG.
We are in an excellent humour — lets have the tother quart,
Rare rogue in Buckram— thou shalt goe out a wit, and vie with Martin Parker, or John Tailor.
Shall I so — then let the money I have gain'd to day; buy Sack, and Musick, — throwes down money ha, ha, ha,
A round — a round — a round — some bodies at doore
prethee — prethee — sirra try thy skill.
Whose there, Edward, one M r. Rebellion a Roundhead, and one Time-server a Priest.
Let um in, let um in.
Master Rebellion, and Master Time-server, welcome, welcome I faith now — some wine boy.
What Circe hath with murmuring charmes, thus Metamorphos'd seeming civil men to beastly swine, O M r. Time-Server — with weeping eyes, behold those sinnes here Acted, for which a Nation mournes. —
My eyes are ready to drop out, and fall like bullets at my feet, for to behold this object.
Come M r. Rebellion, and M r. Time-Server, this sterne Socratick garb doth not become you, leave it, faith tis scurvie; — what Planet struck — desperate wounds must have desperate cures — shut the doore — nay gentlemen — you shall drink — sit down and tipple — so — M r. Rebellion a health to king Pims Ghost — can you deny the honour'd shade that courtesie, — nay, I will be pledg'd —
— Thanks M r Rebellion, nay, it must go round, M r. Time-Server you'l not affront our triumph.
Alas this sack agrees not with my constitution — so deepe a draught, will put me to the charge of physick: besides it is a sin, to guzzel down the creature thus in waste, a crime which heaven abhorres — sir I dare not.
How? — dare [Page 9] not — thou art not then a friend unto the cause, and so I will inform —pox on him— if you love me Suckdrie, lets stiffe him, and say it was a sudden judgement upon him for his obstinacy; the posture will confirme it.
You must drink sir —
hold, sir ile drink —he drinks —
So, so, so.
This is good sack gentlemen, ile spend my pint — so please you —
Ile gi'thee a quart (my Bullie) to morrow, I le be thrifty, and share the Commons coine with frugall skill — Nay Master Time-server, sit not so farre of, each man joyne foot to foot, and tipple in an Orbe. Some wine boy
I come, I come Sir,
Here Master Time-Server, — you are too Stoicall — a draught of this, will give you the Anallysis of your text, without mediums or nocturnall watchings — here, he drinks.
This is inticing liquor — drinks
M r. Rebellion, this blood of the ripe grape, will adde unto your numerous pious thoughts, in this bowle full to the brimme I memorize your health —
I thank you sir, and by my fathers head, this sack is very warme, and comfortable, give me measure sir, — drinks.
I now begin to be strangely transported; gentlemen, shalls be merry for troth to say, 'tis that I most effect; how ere I counterfeit,— to please the rising Round-heads — when as the Bishops rul'd I was for them, I wore my Cassock most canonicall; but now the tide is turnd, 'twere simple policy to swim against the streame, to be so nice of conscience, for making scruple to revile my Prince, to cherish and confirme base men, in hope of that nere was, nor is, nor ere shall be to loose vast summes of gold, thanksgiving dinners and repute —
Drink deepe, my fingers itch, untill they seize the bowle — I laugh to think how when I counterfeit a whining passion, and talke of God and goodnesse, walke with a sad, and mortified countenance, how I'me admir'd, amongst the Brethren, and stild a man of God —
Excellent, heres to thee for that conceit; we foure should have made rare States-men, we are so wittie in our mischief.
Master Time-Server, You have occupied with the nine girles — lets heare, lets heare. —
A reckoning boy — call thy Master.
Your will gentlemen
Our will sir is to pay, gentlemen deposite — they pay — dost heare, here's a friend of ours has forgotten himself. —
— a little as they call it — the wine has got
into his head — as frost into a hand — he is benum'd and has no use of himselfe for present.
You'd need gentlemen, be all wafted home in a Sedan, you are so light, you hardly feele your selves; and yet so weighty, that you reele under your burdens thus must we thrive by sinne — it must be so, this is the last of ages.
ACT. 4.
What dee lack Gentlemen, pray what dee lack?
Sweet-heart, where have you dispos'd the velvet slippers, the Shoe-maker brought home last night. —
They are in the matted-chamber, close by the role of [...]
M r. Horne, I joy to see you healthy, and in so faire a way to thrive. —
my humblest service; I shall make bold Sir, to spend an houre or two with your faire wise. —
With all my heart Sir. Iames. — Shew worshipfull M r. Suck-dry into the painted chamber. Sir ther's a quilt of worth in 't. — Sweet-heart be not too nice, — refuse not to bee open to him, — thou know'st hes bountifull. —
I shall observe your charge Sir.
Sceane 2.
I'le lock the door Sweet —
So — Now we are alone — no envious eyes can gaze upon our actions. — Dearest Mistris, hast thou not wanted my societie, the tedious tearme of three whole dayes? —
No Sir, Love will subsist a while with ruminating of those joyes have bin, aswell as those that are to come. —
Looke here my Mistresse, since I saw you, I have invokt Apollo, and the Nine, to ayde my quill in some apt meeter for to sing thy praise.
Verses, — are they your owne Sir, — I doe not thinke but you Poets, that can so manifest your loves in blanke verse, not leave or god or goddesse in spacious heaven, but call them downe for witnesses, if you were mounted on a cowle-staffe, and toss'd some-thing high, you would imagine you backt Pegasus. — Or if you were plac't knee-deepe in a great tub of water, you dabling there would count it Helicon. —
Your wit's too sharpe Sweet Mistresse, you talke like a second Sapho, heare my Minerva speake.
Willingly Sir.
Troth Sir the sense ot'h lines puzzels my capacitie, — I want [Page 12] your meaning Sir.
I will unfold my selfe, when I told thee,
ACT. 5.
This day I'le sacrifice to Venus, Mars shall claime the next, the third I'le consecrate to Iupiter, the fourth I'le be a wit, and Mercury shall be my Clearke: Thus will I drive my dayes to weekes, my weekes to months, my months to yeares, and lavish out my life in lust, in wounds, in arts; I'le make the milke-sops of this age for to doe homage to my shadow. Stay — this is Horns house, — and his faire wife, I now must give a visite; — there is feaver in my bloud, I shall dissolve with heat unlesse — a cooler — knocks.
M r. Dammee, your radiant sublimitie doth illustrate this habitation, please you Sir draw neere my poore mansion, — my selfe and all are in't, at your disposall.
Thou dost but doe me justice, my merrits doe deserve thy low submission. Where is thy wife?
Sir she's a little busie, the time will not be long ere she'l wait on you.
I'le wait on her. —
Il'e see who tis that now imployes her, I thinke my gifts, have been as large and liberall — as any that survives. —
Sir I confesse your bountie, — you'l further yet oblige my gratitude, if you but please to take a turne i'th garden till she comes downe.
I'le cut thee into attomes, if thou prescribe my will. — Wher's this creature?
What are you pounded
You will undoe me Sir.
Sceane 2.
For heavens sake hold Sir.
Oh, oh, the splinters of my bones start out and peirce holes in my skin —
Slave I'le beat thy braines out at thy nose.
O hold Sir, I am one of the Committee.
Nay then thou shalt not live, if I kill thee, the fact will ne'r be odious in the sight of heaven; the Commons prayers will expiate my crimes. How many men have been undone by thee thou art insatiate as death and hell.
O fatall day, lust hath betray'd me unto death!
There lye and groane thy soule out.
Sir I repent that ere I entertain'd you, and wer't not that I hate my husbands basenesse, I would repent and be an honest woman.—You not content for to enjoy his wife — but to abuse his house.