Scene 1
Scene a Chamber, with a Bed in it; a Table, Chairs, a Guitar and Chest.
Cynthio, Isabella, Mezzetin, Columbina, are discover'd, talking.
Cin.
Dear Isabella, forgive my Love the Trick it makes me put upon your cruel Uncle. You know, this House, and the Land about it, shou'd have been mine, but that he cheated my Father of it; and unless we can fright him out of the Deeds, by making him believe the House is haunted, I must despair of being able to maintain you, as I wou'd the only Person that can make me happy.
Isab.
I can forgive you any Thing but staying here now, my Cinthio: My Uncle is just coming to Bed; he's but speaking to his Tenant.
Cin.
That Tenant is my Friend, and keeps him in Talk on purpose: Knowing that your Uncle was to come this Evening from Naples, to take Possession of this Estate, we have contriv'd Traps and other Matters to carry on my Design; and if it succeeds, Colombina and Mezzetin shall be so well rewarded.
Mez.
Yes, with a damn'd Cudgel, if our Master Signore Pantalone catches you with us here.
Cin.
Fear nothing: Pasquarel, my nimble Spaniard, watches, and will give you timely Notice.
Col.
You and he may be deceiv'd in that, as well as in your Design of making him pass for a Spirit: I fear he can't speak our Language well enough for that; tho' I own he speaks it like a Devil.
Enter Pasquarel.
Pas.
Sir, he's coming.
Mez.
Away.
Col.
We're undone, that Door is double lock'd.
Colombina goes to open the other Door, and finds it shut.
Mez.
There's no way but one to bring you off; bolt the Door to keep him out. Colombina, off with that black upper Petticoat. You, Sir, must unbutton your Coat: 'Tis well 'tis black: Let me put it over your Head backwards, thus, inside-outwards. Now your Arms through the Side-slits. Now on with the Petticoat. Thus you'll look like a Fryar. Look grave. Leave the rest to me. [Colombina's Petticoat is put on by Cinthio, and his Coat put over his Head, which exactly resembles a Fryar's Habit.] Hah! he's here already.
Knocking without.
Pas.
What will become of me?
Mez.
An Eunuch if he sees thee.
Pas.
He shan't, if these Petticoats will hide me.
Col.
Hold, hold, I'll let no Body come there.
Pas.
That's a Lie. I must e'en get under that Table.
Pan.
[without, Knocks and Calls] Open the Door!
Pasquarel hides himself under the Table.
Mez.
Oh! Sir, we dare not.
Pan.
Who has shut it?
Mez.
The Spirit.
Pan.
The Spirit's the Wind, you Ass.
Mez.
Now you may open.
Opens the Door.
Enter Pantalone.
Pan.
[Entring.] Where are these Fools that are afraid of Spirits? [He starts, seeing Cinthio.] Hah! what's that?
Mez.
Nothing but a reverend Father, Sir. Your Niece is afraid of the Spirits, which, they say, haunt the House; so she would not go to Bed without Confession.
Pan.
She's a credulous Fool. But no matter; 'tis well there are such, and unbelieving Knaves to keep 'em so. [Aside.] Reverend Father, she's a stubborn Sinner; she would marry a beggarly Reprobate, who says I trick'd his deceas'd Father out of this Estate. Wou'd I had him here! he shou'd feel the Vengeance of an Italian. Reprove her, Father; I leave her wholly to be guided by you.
Isa.
Since my Uncle is come into this Room, let your Reverence be pleas'd to walk into the next.
Cinth. Isab. and Mezzetin, Exeunt.
Pan.
Your Reverence's humble Servant.
Col.
Sir, here's a new Ruff was left for you: Pray try whether it fits, that it may be alter'd, if it does not: For you'll want it to morrow.
Pan.
Do so. [She puts the Ruff on him, and it rises over his Head.] Heigh day! The Devil's in it.
Col.
[Aside.] Ay, now it's about your Neck. -- Oh! Sir, the Spirit that haunts this House, puls it up.
Pan.
Bless me! But I'll try to pull it down.
Pasquarel attempts to get out, but Pantalone pulls the Ruff down, and Pasquarel is forc'd to run under the Table again.
Pan.
So! 'tis off. Let the Devil put it on for me. [He throws the Ruff down, and spys a Letter, which he takes up.] Hah! what's that? A Letter.
Col.
[Aside.] I fear Isabella drop'd it. -- Don't touch it, Sir; sure the Devil laid it there: 'Twill burn you.
Pan.
Let's see the Light! I'll put on my Spectacles, and read it.
Col.
[Aside.] He must not. I'll make my Words good, and set it on Fire.
She sits it o' Fire.
Pan.
This Candle gives a pretty good Light. [Having read a little.] Cot so, my Fingers itch. Hell and the Devil! it burns me.
He let's it drop, and it burns to Ashes.
Col.
I told you so, Sir: Some unlucky Devil dropt it.
Pan.
There was something of Fires and Flames in it.
Col.
No wonder then if it burn'd so. Oh! I dare not stay here.
Exit. Colom.
Pan.
I don't know what to think of all this! But come what will, I'll not abate a Penny of the Rent. I'll e'en go too, and try whether the Father-Confessor can set Things to right.—Stay; is not that the Devil at my Heels? [Looks back, and sees Pasquarel come with great Strides, he starts; Pasquarel makes odd Postures; frights him, trips up his Heels, and runs out.] Help, help! Mezzetin! Colombina!
Enter Colombina.
Col.
What's the Matter, Sir?
Pan.
Did not you see it?
Col.
What, Sir?
Pan.
The Devil, the Spirit.
Col.
I saw nothing.
Pan.
Oh! I am crippl'd. Where's the Father-Confessor?
Col.
He's gone, Sir.
Pan.
What shall I do? I dare not lie alone. Colombina, prethee lie with me to Night.
Col.
Fy, Sir; such a wicked Thing would raise the Devil certainly.
Pan.
But this is no such dangerous Devil neither: I dare say, he'll do thee no Harm.
Col.
No; nor no Good neither, I dare say. Get your Man Mezzetin to lie with you.
Pan.
No, he's a Cow-hearted Rascal.
Enter Nicholas.
Col.
There's Nicholas, your Farmer's Man! He's a stout Fellow.
Nic.
Cra' mercy; and God speed the Plough! I thought I had heard an Outcry.
Pan.
So thou didst. The Spirit has broke my Bones.
Nic.
Oh! is that all? Mary 'tis well he ha'n't broke your Neck.
Pan.
He cannot, Nicholas: The Devil has no Power but on those that have sold themselves to him: Now I han't sold my self to the Devil.
Nic.
Troth, I don't know. You old Pinch-pennies are like your Wenches, and your Court-Folks, they say; you'd sell any thing for Mony.
Pan.
Well, wilt thou lie with me, honest Nick?
Nic.
An't please you, I'm no proud Man; I had rather lie with you' Wench.
Col.
What are you afraid of Spirits too?
Exit Colombina.
Nic.
Not I; but many a one has been trust up for being in bad Company. What if old Nick should mistake in the Dark, and carry young Nick away in stead of his Worship.
Pan.
Thou needst not fear: Didst thou ever give thy self to the Devil?
Nic.
What need I? I'm no marrie Man.
Pan.
Then thou'rt safe enough: The Devil has no Pow'r over thee.
Nic.
Why are you then so ascard?
Pan.
I! I a'n't afraid. But 'tis good to have Company.
Nic.
Why, I've heard our Curate say, An Usurer's never alone; Gold and the Devil (God bless us) are always in his Company.
Pan.
Come, you must lie with me; for I will not lie by my self.
Nic.
Stay; I'm thinking of a rare Bedfellow for you.
Pan.
Sayst thou so? Prethee who is it?
Nic.
Why, our Master's Wife. I dare say she'll deny no Man. Then she must needs be a plaguy good Body; for he has bid the Devil take her these Ten Years, yet the Devil don't care to middle with her.
Pan.
Come, lie with me; thou dost not know what I'll do for thee.
Nic.
No, nor never shall, I'll warrant. But if I must come, let's e'en pig toge∣ther quickly o' God's Name; for I'm e'en as sleepy as our Neighbour's Dog, that lean'd his Head on the Wall to bark.
Pan.
Draw the Window-Curtains, and we'll to Bed.
Nic.
A Match, quoth Joane, when she lay with her Master.
Exeunt.