Act II. Scene I.|
Peni-Boy, Sen. Pecunia, Mortgage, Statute, Band,
Our Grace is sad, methinks, and melancholy!
You do not look upon me with that Face,
As you were wont, my Goddess, bright Pecunia:
Altho your Grace be faln, of Two i' the Hundred,
In Vulgar Estimation; yet am I
Your Graces Servant still: and teach this body
To bend, and these my aged Knees to buckle,
In Adoration, and just Worship of you.
Indeed, I do confess, I have no shape
To make a Minion of, but I'm your Martyr,
Your Graces Martyr. I can hear the Rogues,
As I do walk the Streets, whisper and point,
There goes Old Peni-boy, the Slave of Money,
Rich Peni-boy, Lady Pecunia's Drudge,
A sordid Rascal, one that never made
Good Meal in his Sleep, but sells the Acates are sent him,
Fish, Fowl and Venison, and preserves himself,
Like an Old hoary Rat, with mouldy Pye-Crust.
This I do hear, rejoicing, I can suffer
This, and much more for your good Graces sake.
Pec. Why do you so my Guardian? I not bid you,
Cannot my Grace be gotten, and held too?
Without your self-tormentings, and your watches,
Your macerating of your body thus
With Cares and Scantings of your Diet and rest?
P. Se. O, no, your Services, my Princely Lady,
Cannot with too much zeal of Rites be done,
They are so sacred. Pec. But my Reputation
May suffer, and the worship of my Family,
When by so servile means they both are sought.
P. Se. You are a Noble, Young, Free, Gracious Lady,
And would be every bodies, in your Bounty,
But you must not be so. They are a few
That know your Merit, Lady, and can value't.
Your self scarce understands your proper Powers,
They are All-mighty, and that we your Servants,
That have the Honour here to stand so near you,
Know, and can use too. All this Nether-world
Is yours, you command it, and do sway it,
The Honour of it, and the Honesty,
The Reputation, I, and the Religion,
(I was about to say, and had not err'd)
Is Queen Pecunia's. For that Stile is yours,
If Mortals knew your Grace, or their own good.
Mor. Please your Grace to retire.
Ban. I fear your Grace
Hath tane too much of the sharp Air. Pec. O, no!
I could endure to take a great deal more
(And with my Constitution, were it left)
Unto my choice, what think you of it, Statute?
Sta. A little now and then does well, and keeps
Your Grace in your Complexion.
Ban. And true Temper.
Mor. But too much, Madam, may encrease cold
Nourish Catarrhs, Green Sicknesses and Agues,
And put you in Consumption. P. se. Best to take
Advice of your grave Women, Noble Madam,
They know the State o' your Body, and ha' studied
Your Graces Health.
Ban. And honour. Here'll be Visitants,
Or Suitors by and by; and 'tis not fit
They find you here.
Sta. 'Twill make your Grace too cheap
To give them Audience presently.
Mor. Leave your Secretary,
To answer them. Pec. Wait you here, Broker.
Bro. I shall, Madam,
And do your Graces Trusts with diligence.
Act II. Scene II.
Pyed-Mantle, Broker, Peny-Boy sen.
Hat luck's this? I am come an Inch too late.
Do you hear, Sir? Is your Worship o' the Family
Unto the Lady Pecunia? Bro. I serve her Grace, Sir,
Aurelia Clara Pecunia, the Infanta.
Pie. Has she all those Titles, and her Grace besides?
I must correct that Ignorance and Over-sight,
Before I do present. Sir, I have drawn
A Pedigree for her Grace, tho yet a Novice
In that so Noble Study. Bro. A Herald at Arms?
Pie. No, Sir, a Pursivant, my Name is Pyed-mantle.
Bro. Good Master Pyed-mantle.
Pie. I have deduc'd her
Bro. From all the Spanish Mines in the West Indies,
I hope: for she comes that way by her Mother,
But by her Grand-mother, she's Dutches of Mines.
Pie. From Man's Creation I have brought her.
Bro. No farther?
Before, Sir, long before, you have done nothing else,
Your Mines were before Adam, search your Office,
Roll Five and Twenty, you will find it so,
I see you are but a Novice, Master Pyed-mantle,
If you had not told me so. Pye. Sir, an Apprentice
In Armoiry. I have read the Elements,
And Accidence, and all the leading Books,
And I have now upon me a great ambition,
How to be brought to her Grace, to kiss her Hands.
Bro. Why, if you have acquaintance with Mistris
Or Mistris Band, my Ladies Gentlewomen,
They can induce you. One is a Judges Daughter,
But somewhat stately; th' other, Mistris Band,
Her Father's but a Scrivener, but she can
Almost as much with my Lady as the other,
Especially if Rose Wax the Chambermaid
Be willing, Do you not know her, Sir, neither?
Pye. No, in troth, Sir.
Bro. She's a good pliant Wench,
And easie to be wrought, Sir; but the Nurse,
Old Mother Mortgage, if you have a Tenement,
Or such a Morsel, tho she have no Teeth,
She loves a Sweet Meat, any thing that melts
In her warm Gums, she could command it for you
On such a trifle, a toy. Sir, you may see
How for your Love, and this so pure Complexion,
(A perfect Sanguine) I ha' ventur'd thus,
The straining of a Ward, opening a Door
Into the Secrets of our Family.
Pye. I pray you let me know, Sir, unto whom
I am so much beholden; but your name.
Bro. My name is Broker, I am Secretary
And Usher to her Grace. Pye. Good Master Broker!
Bro. Good Master Pyed-mantle.
Pye. Why, you could do me,
If you would, now, this Favour of your self.
Bro. Truly I think I could; but if I would,
I hardly should, without, or Mistris Band,
Or Mistris Statute, please to appear in it.
Or the good Nurse I told you of, Mistris Mortgage.
We know our places here, we mingle not
One in another's Sphere, but all move orderly,
In our own Orbs; yet we are all Concentricks.
Pye. Well, Sir, I'll wait a better Season. Bro. Do,
And study the right means; get Mistris Band
To urge on your behalf, or little Wax.
[Broker makes a mouth at him.
Pye. I have a hope, Sir, that I may, by chance,
Light on her Grace, as she's taking the Air.