it can scarce be imagined to have been in consequence of any appointment of that kind. He died at Whitehall on the 19th of March, 1682, having in his life-time published the following plays: (1.) "_The_Prisoners: a Tragi-Comedy. Written at London, and acted at the Phanix in Drury Lane." (2.) "Claracilla: a Tragi-Comedy. Written in Rome, and acted at the Phænix in Drury Lane." [Both these plays were printed in 12mo. 1641, with verses prefixed by H. Benet, afterwards the celebrated Earl of Arlington, Robert Waring, and William Cartwright.] (3.) "The Princess; or, Love at first Sight: a Tragi-Comedy. Written in Naples." "The Parson's Wedding: a Comedy. Written at Basil, in Switzerland." (4.) (5.) "The Pilgrim: a Tragedy. Written in Paris." (6.) "The First Part of Cicilia and Clorinda; or, Love in Arms: a Tragi-Comedy. Written in Turin." (7.) "The Second Part of Cicilia and Clorinda; or, Love in Arms: a Tragi-Comedy. Written in Florence." (8.) " Thomaso; or, The Wanderer: a Comedy. Written in Madrid." (9.) "The Second Part of Thomaso; or, The Wanderer. Written in Madrid." (10.) The First Part of Bellamira, her Dream; or, The Love of Shadows: a Tragi-Comedy. Written in Venice." (11.)" The Second Part of Bellamira, her Dream; or, The Love of Shadows: a Tragi-Comedy. Written in Venice." [All the above plays were printed together in one volume, folio, 1664.] Thomas Killegrew had two brothers, both dramatic writers, viz. Sir William Killegrew, author of Ormasdes, Pandora, Selindra, and The Siege of Urbin; and Dr Henry Killegrew, a clergyman, author of a play called The Conspiracy, printed in 4to. 1638, and afterwards altered, and printed in folio, 1653, under the title of Pallantus and Eudona. Dr Henry Killegrew was father to Mrs Anne Killegrew, a young lady celebrated for her wit, beauty, and virtue, and who was the writer of several poems, very highly esteemed by Mr Dryden. DRAMATIS PERSONE. Mr CARELESS, a Gentleman, and a Wit. Captain, a leading Wit, full of designs. Mr CONSTANT, two dull Suitors to the Lady CROP the Brownist, a Scrivener. Lady WILD, a rich (and somewhat youthful) Mrs PLEASANT, a handsome young Gentlewo Mrs SECRET, her (indifferent honest) Woman. Mrs WANTON, the Captain's livery Punk, mar- Bawds, Servants, Drawers, Fiddlers. SCENE I. ACT I. Enter the Captain in choler, and WANTON. Capt. No more; I'll sooner be reconcil'd to want or sickness, than that rascal; a thing, that my charity made sociable; one, that when I smil'd would fawn upon me, and wag his stern, like starv'd dogs; so nasty, the company cried foh upon him; he stunk so of poverty, ale, and bawdry. So poor and despicable, when I reliev'd him, he could not avow his calling for want of a cassock, but stood at corners of streets, and whisper'd gentlemen in the ear, as they pass'd, and so deliver'd his wants like a message; which being done, the rogue vanished, and would dive at Westminster like a dabchick, and rise again at Temple-gate. The ingenuity of the rascal, his wit being snuft by want, burnt clear then, and furnish'd him with a bawdy jest or two, to take the company; but now the rogue shall find he has lost a patron. Wan. As I live, if I had thought you would have been in such a fury, you should never have known it. Capt. Yes, faith, and urg'd, you (for your part) were never particular, and seldom sound. Wan. Not sound! why, he offer'd to marry me, and swore he thought I was chaste, I was so particular; and prov'd it, that consent was full marriage, by the first institution; and those that love, and lie together, and tell, have fulfilled all ceremonies now. Capt. Did he offer to marry thee? Capt. If ever then I deserv'd from thee, or if thou be'st dear to thyself, as thou hast any thing thou hop'st shall be safe or sound about thee, I conjure thee, take my counsel; marry him, to afflict him. Wan. Marry him? Capt. If I have any power I shall prevail. Thou know'st he has a fat benefice, and leave me to plague him, till he give it me to be rid of thee. Wan. Will you not keep me then? Capt. I keep thee! pr'ythee, wilt thou keep me? I know not why men are such fools to pay: we bring as much to the sport as women. Keep Capt. Treacherous rogue! he has always thee! I'd marry thee as soon; why, that's wedrail'd against thee to me, as a danger his friend-ding sin: no, no keeping I: that you are not ship ought to give me warning of; and nightly cry'd, Yet look back, and hunt not, with goodnature and the beauties of thy youth, that false woman; but hear thy friend, that speaks from sad experience. Wan. Did he say this? Capt. Yes, and swears ye are as insatiate as the sea, as covetous, and as ungrateful; that you have your tempests too, and calms, more dangerous than it. Wan. Was the slave so eloquent in his malice? your own, is all that prefers you before wives. Wan. I hope this is not real. Capt. Art thou such a stranger to my humour? why, I tell thee, I should hate thee if I could call thee mine, for I loath all women within my knowledge; and 'tis six to four, if I knew thy sign, I'd come there no more; a strange mistress makes every night a-new, and these are your pleasing sins. I had as lieve be good, as sin by course. Wan. Then I am miserable. 5 This play was originally represented wholly by women. See Dialogue on Plays and Players, Dodsley's Old Plays, Vol. XII. edit. 1780. Capt. Not so, if you'll be instructed, and let me pass like a stranger when you meet me. Wan. But have you these humours? Capt. Yes, faith; yet if you will observe them, though you marry him, I may perchance be your friend; but you must be sure to be coy; for to me the hunting is more pleasant than the quarry. Wan. But, if I observe this, will you be my friend hereafter? Capt. Firm as the day. Hark, I hear him; [The Parson calls within ;] I knew he would follow me, I gave him a small touch that waken'd his guilt. Resolve to indear yourself to him, which you may easily do, by taking his part when I have vex'd him. No dispute; resolve it, or as I live here I disclaim thee for ever. Wan. 'Tis well, something I'll do. [Exit WANTON. Capt. Open the door, I say, and let me in; your favourite and his tythes shall come no more here. Enter Parson. Par. Yes, but he shall; 'tis not you, nor your brac'd drum, shall fright me hence, who can command the souls of men. I have read divine Seneca; thou know'st nothing but the earthly part, and canst cry to that, 7 Faces about. Capt. I have for thee, slave, when I have been wondered at for keeping company with such a face; but they were such as knew thee not; all which thy looks deceiv'd, as they did me; they are so simple they'd cozen a jury, and a judge that had wit would swear thou lyedst, should thou confess what I know to be true, and award Bedlam for thee; 'tis so strange and so new a thing, to find so much rogue lodge at the sign of the fool. Par. Leave this injurious language, or I'll lay off my cassock; for nothing shall privilege your bragger's tongue to abuse me, a gentleman, and a soldier ancienter than thyself. Capt. Yes, thou wer't so; and now, I think on't, I'll recount the cause, which, it may be, thou hast forgot, through thy variety of sins; it was a hue and cry, that followed thee a scholar, and found thee a soldier. Par. Thou ly'st; thou and Scandal have but one tongue; hers dwells with thy coward's teeth. Capt. Oh! do you rage? nay, I'll put the cause in print too: I am but a scurvy poet, yet I'll make a ballad shall tell how like a faithful disciple you follow'd your poor whore, till her martyrdom in the suburbs. Par. I'll be reveng'd for this scandal. Capt. Then shall succeed, thy flight from the university, disguis'd into captain, only the outside was worse buff, and the inside more atheist than they; furnish'd with an insolent faith, uncharitable heart, envious as old women, cruel and bloody as cowards; thus arm'd at all points, thou went'st out, threatning God, and tremb Capt. Thou read Seneca! thou steal'st his cover, to clothe thee, naked and wicked, that for money wouldst sell the share of the twelve, and art allowed by all that know thee, fitter to have been Judas, than Judas was, for treachery. Par. Rail, do rail, my illiterate captain, that can only abuse by memory; and should I liveling at men. till thou couldst read my sentence, I should never die. Capt. No, ingrateful, live till I destroy thee; and, thankless wretch, did all my care of thee deserve nothing but thy malice, and treacherous speaking darkly still? with thy fine, no, not he, when any malicious discourse was made of me; and by thy false faint, no, faith; confess, in thy denials, whilst thy smiling excuses stood a greater and more dangerous evidence against me, than my enemy's affidavits could have done. Par. I'll lye for never a lean soldier of you all. Par. I'll be reveng'd, thou poor man of war, I'll be reveng'd. Enter WANTON. Wan. And why so bitter? Whose house is this? Who dares tell this story? Capt. Why, sweet, hath he not treacherously broke into our cabinet, and would have stol'n thee thence? by these hilts, I'll hang him; and then I can conclude my ballad with, take warning all Christian people by the same: I will, you lean slave; I'll prosecute thee, till thou art fain to hide in a servitor's gown again, and live upon 6 Quarry-i. e. The Game. Quarry is a term both of hunting and falconry. The allusion here is to the former. Quarrie (as referring to the latter), according to Latham's explanation," is taken for the fowle which is flowne at, and slaine at any time, especially when young hawks are flowne thereunto." 7 Faces about.-So, in Every Man in his Humour, A. 3. S. 1: And in The Knight of the Burning Pestle, Ralph, exercising his men, says: "Double your files; as you were; faces about." crumbs with the robin red-breasts that haunt the hall, your old mess-mates. Do you snarl? I'll do't, I will, and put thee to fight with the dogs for the bones that but smell of meat; those that your hungry students have polish'd with their teeth. Wan. If you do this, good captain, lieutenant, and company, (for all your command, I think, is within your reach,) I say, if you dare do this, I shall sing a song of one that bade stand, and made a carrier pay a dear rent for a little ground upon his majesty's highway. Capt. How now, mistress Wanton! what's this? what's this? Par. This! 'tis matter for a jury; I'll swear, and positively. I'll hang thee, I'li do't, by this hand, let me alone to swear the jury out of doubt. Capt. But you are in jest, mistress Wanton, and will confess (I hope) this is no truth. Wan. Yes, sir, as great a truth, as that you are in your un-pay'd-for scarlet. Fool! didst think, I'd quit such a friend, and his stay'd fortune, to rely upon thy dead pay, and hopes of a second covenant? Capt. His fortune! what is't? th' advowson of Tyburn deanry? Par. No, nor rents brought in by long staffspeeches, that asks alms with frowns, till thy looks and speech have laid violent hands upon men's charity. Wan. Let him alone; I'll warrant, he'll never be indicted for drawing any thing but his tongue, against a man. Capt. Very good. Pur. Dear mistress Wanton, you have won my heart, and I shall live to doat upon you for abusing this impetuous captain. Will you listen to my old suit? will you marry me, and vex him? say, dare you do't without more dispute? Capt. 'Twas a good question; she that dares marry thee, dares do any thing; she may as safely lie with the great bell upon her, and his clapper is less dangerous than thine. Wan. Why, I pray? Capt. What a miserable condition wilt thou come to? his wife cannot be an honest woman; and if thou should'st turn honest, would it not vex thee to be chaste and pox'd, a saint without a nose? what kalendar will admit thee, by an incurable slave that's made of rogues flesh? consider that. Wan. Why, that's something yet; thou hast nothing but a few scars, and a little old fame to trust to, and that scarce thatches your head. Capt. Nay then I see thou'rt base, and this plot not accident. And now I do not grudge him thee; go together, 'tis pity to part you, whore and parson, as consonant Wan. As whore and captain. Capt. Take her, I'll warrant her a breeder; I'll prophesy she shall lie with thy whole congregation, and bring an heir to thy parish, one that thou may'st enclose the common by his title, and recover it by common law. Par. That's more than thy dear dam could do for thee, thou son of a thousand fathers, all poor soldiers, rogues, that ought mischiefs, no midwives for their birth. But I cry thee mercy, my patron has an estate of old iron by his side, with the farm of old ladies he scrapes a dirty living from. Wan. He earn from an old lady! hang him, he's only wicked in his desires; and for adultery he cannot be condemn'd, though he should have the vanity to betray himself. God forgive me for belying him so often as I have done; the weak-chin'd slave hir'd me once to say, I was with child by him. Capt. This is pretty, farewell; and may the next pig thou farrow'st have a promising face, without the dad's fool or gallows in't, that all may swear, at first sight, that's a bastard; and it shall go hard but I'll have it call'd mine. I have the way, 'tis but praising thee, and swearing thou art honest before I am ask'd: you taught me the trick. Par. Next levee I'll preach against thee, and tell them what a piece you are; your drum and borrowed scarf shall not prevail, nor shall you win with charms half ell long (hight ferret ribband) the youth of our parish, as you have done. Capt. No, lose no time, pr'ythee study and learn to preach, and leave railing against the surplice, now thou hast preach'd thyself into linen. Adieu, Abigal; adieu, heir apparent to Sir Oliver Marr-text; to church, go; I'll send a beadle shall sing your Epithalamium. Par. Adieu, my captain of a tame band; I'll tell your old lady, how you abused her breath, and swore you earn'd your money harder than those that dig in the mines for't. [Exit Captain.] A fart fill thy sail, captain of a gally foist.He's gone: come, sweet, let's to church immediately, that I may go and take my revenge; I'll nake him wear thin breeches. Wan. But if you should be such a man as he says you are, what would my friends say, when they hear I have cast myself away? Par. He says! hang him, lean, mercenary, provant rogue; I knew his beginning, when he made the stocks lousy, and swarm'd so with 8 Gally foist.-A gally foist was the name of a pleasure-boat, or one used on particular days for pomp and state. The Lord Mayor's and Company's barges were sometimes formerly called The City Galley foists. See Wood's South East View of the City, and Part of Southwark, as it appeared about the year 1599. Par. Why, dost thou think I fear him? no, wench, I know him too well for a cowardly slave, that dares as soon eat his fox, as draw it in of nothing but fighting. Wan. Well, if you be not a good man, and a kind husband vermin, we were afraid he would have brought that curse upon the county-He says! but what matters what he says? a rogue, by sire and dam! his father was a broad fat peddler, a what-earnest; the slave's noted to make a conscience do-you-lack, sir, that haunted good houses, and stole more than he bought; his dam was a gypsy, a pilfering canting Sibyl in her youth, and she suffered in her old age for a witch: poor Stromwell, the rogue was a perpetual burthen to her, she carried him longer at her back than in her belly; he dwelt there, till she lost him one night in the great frost upon our common, and there he was found in the morning candy'd in ice a pox of their charity that thaw'd him; you might smell a rogue then in the bud: he is now run away from his wife. Wan. His wife? Par. Yes, his wife; why, do you not know he's married according to the rogues liturgy? a left-handed bridegroom; I saw him take the ring from a tinker's dowager. Wan. Is this possible? Par. Yes, most possible, and you shall see how I'll be reveng'd on him; I will immediately go seek the ordinance against reformadoes. Wan. What ordinance? Par. Why, they do so swarm about the town, and are so destructive to trade and all civil government, that the state has declared, no person shall keep above two colonels and four captains (of what trade soever) in his family; for now the war is done, broken breech, wood-monger, ragman, butcher, and link-boy, (comrades that made up the ragged regiment in this holy war,) think to return and be admitted to serve out their times again. Wan. Your ordinance will not touch the captain, for he is a known soldier. Par. He a captain! an apocryphal modern one, that went convoy once to Brainford with those troops that conducted the contributionpuddings in the late holy war, when the city ran mad after their russet Levites, apron-rogues, with horn hands. Hang him, he's but the sign of a soldier; and I hope to see him hang'd for that commission, when the king comes to his place again. Wan. You abuse him, now he's gone; but Par. Thou know'st the proverb, as happy as the parson's wife, during her husband's life. SCENE II. Enter Mistress PLEASANT, Widow WILD her Aunt, and SECRET her Woman, above in the musick-room, as dressing her; a glass, a table, and she in her night-cloaths. Plea. Secret, give me the glass, and see who knocks. Wid. Niece, what, shut the door? as I live, this musick was meant to you, I know my nephew's voice. Plea. Yes, but you think his friend's has more musick in't. Wid. No, faith, I can laugh with him, or so, but he comes no nearer than my lace. Plea. You do well to keep your smock betwixt. Wid. Faith, wench, so wilt thou and thou beest wise, from him and all of them; and be rul'd by me, we'll abuse all the sex, till they put a true value upon us. Plea. But dare you forbid the travel'd gentleman, and abuse them and your servant, and swear, with me, not to marry in a twelve-month, though a lord bait the hook, and hang out the sign of a court Cupid, whipt by a country widow? then I believe we may have mirth cheaper than at the price of ourselves, and some sport with the wits that went to lose themselves in France. Wid. Come, no dissembling, lest I tell your servant, when he returns, how much you're taken with the last new fashion. Sec. Madam, 'tis almost noon, will you not dress yourself to-day? Wid. She speaks as if we were boarders; pr'ythee, wench, is not the dinner our own? sure my cook shall lay by my own roast till my stomach be up. 9 As soon eat his fox.-A fox was formerly a cant word for a sword. So, in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair, A. 2. S. 6: "What would you have, sister, of a fellow that knows nothing but a basket hilt and an old fox in't?" Philaster, by Beaumont and Fletcher, A. 4: "I made my father's old fox fly about his ears." Henry V. by Shakspeare, A. 4. S. 4: 66 Thou dy'st on point of fox. See Mr Steevens's Note on the latter passage, where many passages of our ancient writers are produced to prove the explanation. |