THE SOLDIER'S FORTUNE. ACT I. SCENE I. Enter BEAUGARD, COURTINE, and FOURBIN. Beau. A pox o' fortune! Thou art always teazing me about fortune: thou risest in a morning with ill-luck in thy mouth; nay, never eatest a dinner, but thou sighest two hours after it, with thinking where to get the next. Fortune be damned, since the world's so wide. T Cour. As wide as it is, 'tis so thronged and crammed with knaves and fools, that an honest man can hardly get a living in it. Beau. Do, rail, Courtine, do: it may get thee employment. Cour. At you I ought to rail; 'twas your fault we left our employments abroad, to come home and be loyal, and now we as loyally starve for it. Beau. Did not thy ancestors do it before thee, man? I tell thee, loyalty and starving are all one. The old cavaliers got such a trick of it in the king's exile, that their posterity could never thrive since. Cour. "Tis a fine equipage I am like to be reduced to; I shall be ere long as greasy as an Alsatian bully; this flopping hat, pinned up on one side, with a sandy, weather-beaten peruke, dirty linen, and, to complete the figure, a long scandalous iron sword jarring at my heels; like a Beau. Snarling, thou meanest, like it's master. Cour. My companions the worthy knights of the most noble order of the post; your peripatetic philosophers of the Temple-walks, rogues in rags, and yet not honest; villains that undervalue damnation, will forswear themselves for a dinner, and hang their fathers for half a crown. Beau. I am ashamed to hear a soldier talk of starving. Cour. Why, what shall I do? I can't steal Beau. Though thou canst not steal, thou hast other vices enough for any industrious fellow to live comfortably upon. Cour. What! would'st thou have me turn rascal, and run cheating up and down the town for a livelihood? I would no more keep a blockhead company, and endure his nauseous nonsense, in hopes to get him, than I would be a drudge to an old woman with rheumatic eyes, hollow teeth, and stinking breath, for a pension: of all rogues, I would not be a foolmonger. Beau, How well this niceness becomes thee! I'd fain see thee e'en turn parson in a pet, o'purpose to rail at all those vices which I know thou naturally art fond of. Why surely an old lady's pension need not be so despicable in the eyes of a disbanded officer, as times go, friend. Cour. I am glad, Beaugard, you think so. Beau. Why thou shalt think so too, man; be ruled by me, and I'll bring thee into good company; families, Courtine, families; and such families, where formality's a scandal, and pleasure is the business; where the women are all wanton, and the men are all witty, you rogue. Cour. What, some of your worship's Wapping acquaintance, that you made last time you came over for recruits, and spirited away your landlady's daughter a volunteering with you into France. Beau. I'll bring thee, Courtine, where cuckoldom's in credit, and lewdness laudable; where thou shalt wallow in pleasures and preferments, revel all day, and every night lie in the arms of melting beauty, sweet as roses, and as springs refreshing. Cour. Pr'ythee don't talk thus; I had rather thou would'st tell me where new levies are to be raised: a pox of whores, when a man has not money to make 'em comfortable. Beau. That shall shower upon us in abundance; and for instance, know, to thy everlasting amazement, all this dropt out of the clouds to-day. Cour. Ha! Gold by this light!— Four. Out of the clouds? Beau. Ay, gold! does it not smell of the sweet hand that sent it? Smell-smell you dog- [To Fourbin. [Fourbin smells to the handful of Gold, and gathers up some pieces in his mouth. Four. Truly, sir, of heavenly sweetness, and very refreshing. Cour. Dear Beaugard, if thou hast any good-nature in thee; if thou would'st not have me hang myself before my time, tell me where the devil haunts that helpt thee to this, that I may go make a bargain with him presently speak, speak, or I am a lost man. Beau. Why thou must know this devil, which I have given my soul to already, and must I suppose have my body very speedily, lives I know not where, and may, for aught I know, be a real devil; but if it be, 'tis the bestnatured devil under Beelzebub's dominions, that I'll swear to. Cour. But how came the gold, then? Beau. To deal freely with my friend, I am lately happened into the acquaintance of a very reverend pimp, as fine a discreet, sober, gray-bearded old gentle man as one would wish; as good a natured publicspirited person as the nation holds; one that is never so happy as when he is bringing good people together, and promoting civil understanding betwixt the sexes: nay, rather than want employment, he will go from one end of the town to t'other, to procure my lord's little dog to be civil to my lady's little languishing bitch. Cour. A very worthy member of the commonwealth! Beau. This noble person one day--but Fourbin can give you a more particular account of the matter. Sweet sir, if you please, tell us the story of the first encounter betwixt you and sir Jolly Jumble; you must know that's his title. Four. Sir, it shall be done-walking one day upon the Piazza, about three of the clock i'th'afternoon, to get me a stomach to my dinner, I chanced to encounter a person of goodly presence and worthy appearance; his beard and hair white, grave and comely, his countenance ruddy, plump, smooth and cheerful; who perceiving me also equipt, as I am, with a mien and air which might well inform him I was a person of no inconsiderable quality, came very respectfully up to me, and after the usual ceremonies between persons of parts and breeding had past, very humbly enquired of me what it was o'clock-I presently understood by the question, that he was a man of parts and business, told him, I did presume it was at most but nicely turned of three. Beau. Very court-like, civil, quaint, and new, I think. Four. The freedom of commerce encreasing, after some little inconsiderable questions pour passer le temps, and so, he was pleased to offer me the courtesy of a glass of wine: I told him I very seldom drank, but if he so pleased, I would do myself the honour to present him with a dish of meat at an eating-house hard by, where I had an interest. Cour. Very well: I think this squire of thine, Beaugard, is as accomplished a person as any of the employment I ever saw. Beau. Let the rogue go on. Four. In short, we agreed and went together: as soon as we entered the room, I am your most humble servant, sir, says he-I am the meanest of your vassals, sir, said I-I am very happy in lighting into the acquaintance of so worthy a gentleman as you appear to be, sir, said he again-worthy, sir Jolly, then came I upon him again on t'other side, (for you must know by that time I had groped out his title) I kiss your hands from the bottom of my heart, which I shall be always ready to lay at your feet. Cour. Well, Fourbin, and what replied the knight then? Four. Nothing, he had nothing to say; his sense was transported with admiration of my parts: so we sat down, and after some pause, he desired to know by what title he was to distinguish the person that had so highly honoured him.— Beau. That is as much as to say, sir, whose rascal you were. Four. Sir, you may make as bold with your poor slave as you please.-I told him those that knew me well were pleased to call me the chevalier Fourbin, that I was a cadet of the ancient family of the Fourbinois; and that I had had the honour of serving the great monarch of France in his wars in Flanders, where I contracted great familiarity and intimacy with a gallant officer of the English troops in that service, one captain Beaugard. Beau. Oh, sir, you did me too much honour. What a true-bred rogue's this!— Cour. Well, but the money, Fourbin, the money. -- Four. Beaugard, hum! Beaugard, says he!-ay, it must be so, a black man, is he not?—ay, says I, blackish-a dark brown-full-faced-yes-a sly, subtle, observing eye?-the same-a strong-built, well-made man?-right-a devilish fellow for a wench, a devilish fellow for a wench, I warrant him; a thundering rogue upon occasion, Beaugard! a thundering fellow for a wench: I must be acquainted with him. Cour. But to the money, the money, man, that's the thing I would be acquainted withal. Beau. This civil gentleman of the chevalier's acquaintance comes yesterday morning to my lodging, and seeing my picture in miniature upon the toilet, told me with the greatest ecstasy in the world, that was the thing |