But got the gentlewoman to go with me, My Lord Mayor's banqueting-house. Now, sir, this morning Was execution; and I never dreamt on't, And neither I, nor the poor gentlewoman, Amb. But when I waked, to put on my clothes, a suit I made new for the action, it was gone, And all my money, with my purse, my seals, My pen and ink, my civet, and my tooth-picks, to a conduit-head, Hard by the place toward Tyburn, which they call My Lord Mayor's banqueting-house.] Tyburn was anciently a village, taking its name from the rivulet Tyburn; and at the north-east corner of the bridge over it, was the Lord Mayor's banqueting-house, near which were nine conduits, erected about 1238 for supplying the city with water. Here it was usual for the Lord Mayor and Aldermen to repair, accompanied with their ladies, to view the conduits, after which was an entertainment at the banqueting-house. It was taken down in the year 1737. WHAL Meer. A kind of Irish penance!" Is this all, sir? Amb. To satisfy my lady. Meer. I will promise you, sir. Amb. I have told the true disaster. Sir, to condole; but gratulate your return. [Erit. Amb. An honest gentleman; but he's never at leisure To be himself, he has such tides of business. [Exit. SCENE II. Another Room in the Same. Enter PUG. Pug. O call me home again, dear chief, and put me To yoking foxes, milking of he-goats, Mustering of ants, and numbering atoms; all That hell and you thought exquisite torments, rather Than stay me here a thought more: I would sooner Keep fleas within a circle,' and be accomptant A kind of Irish penance!] There is the same allusion to the rug gowns of the wild Irish, in the Night Walker of Fletcher. "We have divided the sexton's household stuff Among us; one has the rug, and he's turn'd Irish." I would sooner, Keep fleas within a circle, &c.] This is is taken from an em. A thousand year, which of them, and how far, Enter AMBLER, and surveys him. Amb. This is my suit, and those the shoes and roses! [Aside. Pug. They have such impertinent vexations, A general council of devils could not hitHa! [sees Ambler.] this is he I took asleep with his wench, And borrow'd his clothes. What might I do to balk him? Amb. Do you hear, sir? [Aside. Pug. Answer him, but not to the purpose. [Aside. Amb. What is your name, I pray you, sir? Pug. Is't so late, sir? Amb. I ask not of the time, but of your name, sir. Pug. I thank you, sir: yes, it does hold, sir, certain. Amb. Hold, sir! what holds? I must both hold, and talk to you About these clothes. Pug. A very pretty lace; But the tailor cozen'd me. ployment of the same kind, which Aristophanes has given to Socrates: Ανηρεί αρτι Χαιρεφώντα Σωκρατης Ψυλλαν όποσες άλλοιο της αυτής ποδας ; &c. Nubes, A. I. S. 2. WHAL. This, I believe, Whalley took from Upton: the resemblance between the two passages is somewhat like that between Fluellin's two rivers-" there is" fleas "in both." Amb. No, I am cozen'd By you; robb'd. Pug. Why, when you please, sir; I am, And three-pence! give me an answer. My master is the best at it. Amb. Your master! Who is your master? Pug. Let it be Friday-night. Amb. What should be then? Pug. Your best song's Tom o' Bethlem. Amb. I think you are he.-Does he mock me, trow, from purpose, Or do not I speak to him what I mean? Good sir, your name. Pug. Only a couple of cocks, sir; If we can get a widgeon, 'tis in season. Amb. He hopes to make one of these sciptics of me, (I think I name them right,) and does not fly me; I wonder at that: 'tis a strange confidence! I'll prove another way, to draw his answer. SCENE III. [Exeunt severally. A Room in Fitzdottrel's House. Enter MEERCRAFT, FITZDOTTREL, and EVERILL. Meer. It is the easiest thing, sir, to be done, As plain as fizzling: roll but with your eyes, And foam at the mouth. A little castle-soap Will do't, to rub your lips; and then a nut-shell, With tow, and touch-wood in it, to spit fire. Did you ne'er read, sir, little Darrel's tricks With the boy of Burton, and the seven in Lan, cashire, 2 Somers at Nottingham? all these do teach it. And we'll give out, sir, that your wife has bewitch'd you. Ever. And practised with those two, as sorcerers. Meer. And gave you potions, by which means you were Not compos mentis, when you made your 2 Did you ne'er read, sir, little Darrel's tricks feoffment. With the boy of Burton, &c.] Impostures of this kind, the inventions of the jesuits, were frequent in the age of Jonson. Dr. Harsnet, who died archbishop of York, was fortunate in the discovery of the tricks made use of by these artists; and published them to the world. There is a pamphlet of his entituled, A discovery of the fraudulent practices of John Darrel, minister, in answer to a True narration of the strange and grievous vexation by the devil of seven persons in Lancashire, and William Somers of Nottingham. As the book is not easily to be met with, I am unable to give the reader the particulars of the cheat. WHAL. Dr. Harsnet's Discovery, which is a book of considerable size, was published in 1599. Darrel, who was a puritan preacher at Mansfield, replied to it in the following year, in a treatise full of "sound and fury," and has contrived to render it somewhat doubtful, whether he was a dupe or an impostor. In any case, there was assuredly more efficient agency than his at hand; there were spirits at work of whom he knew little or nothing. The Boy of Burton was one Thomas Darling, for the bewitching of whom, a poor old woman of the name of Alice Goodridge was condemned to the gallows, which she only escaped by dying in prison. Darrel dispossessed this booby of a spirit which Alice had sent to torment him: the credit which he got by this notable achievement, he lost by Somers of Nottingham; and in consequence of the discovery of the imposture, which yet he always affected to maintain, he was degraded from the ministry, and committed to prison. This took place in 1598. The seven in Lancashire belonged to the family of a Mr. Starkey, a mischievous crack-brained idiot, who accused one Edmund Hartley of bewitching them, and had credit enough with a judge and jury, as weak and credulous as himself, to get the poor man condemned and executed, at Lancaster, in 1597. |