The vvorkes of Beniamin Ionson. The second volume. Containing these playes, viz. 1 Bartholomew Fayre. 2 The staple of newes. 3 The Divell is an asse Jonson, Ben, 1573?-1637. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A72473 of text S111824 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 14754). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 2362 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 435 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A72473 STC 14754 ESTC S111824 99847092 99847092 12103 2264206645

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A72473) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 12103) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 671:9 and 756:3 or 2008:8) The vvorkes of Beniamin Ionson. The second volume. Containing these playes, viz. 1 Bartholomew Fayre. 2 The staple of newes. 3 The Divell is an asse Jonson, Ben, 1573?-1637. Digby, Kenelm, Sir, 1603-1665. v.2-3 (v.2: [12], 88, [2], 93-170, 75, [1] p.; v.3: 292; 122, 133-155, [1]; 132 p.) Printed [by John Beale, James Dawson, Bernard Alsop and Thomas Fawcet] for Richard Meighen [and Thomas Walkley], London : 1640 [i.e. 1641] Mostly in verse. Consists of two volumes, 2 and 3, the former intended as a continuation of the first volume published in 1615. Vol. 2 was edited by the author, vol. 3 by Sir Kenelm Digby. The three plays comprising volume 2 each have separate title page with imprint ".. printed by I[ohn]. B[eale]. for Robert Allot .. 1631"; "The staple of nevves" begins new pagination on 2A1. In another state (STC 14754a) "The Divell is an asse" is a reprint dated 1641 and the other two plays are often omitted. Volume 2 is a reissue of STC 14753.5, with the first sheet run through the press again by Bernard Alsop and Thomas Fawcet to print a general title on blank A1. Volume 3, printed by James Dawson for Thomas Walkley, lacks a general title page, and the order of the parts varies; the order given here follows Greg. "Christmas his masque" begins pagination on B1; within this section, "Under-woods" and "Mortimer his fall" have separate title pages dated 1640. "The magnetick lady .. printed M.CD.XL. [sic]" begins new pagination and register; within this section, "A tale of a tub. .. printed M.DC.XL." and "The sad shepherd .. printed M.DC.XLI." have separate title pages. "Horace his Art of poetrie .. M.DC.XL." begins new pagination and register; within this section, "The English grammar. .. M.DC.XL." and "Timber .. M.DC.XLI." have separate title pages. For details of publication history, see "Studies in Bibliography" 30:75-95. Identified as STC 14754b at reel 671:9. Imperfect: copy at reel 2008:8 has volume 2 only and is misbound. Reproductions of the originals in the Folger Shakespeare Library, British Library, and Harvard University Library. Appears at reel 671 (Folger Shakespeare Library copy), at reel 756 (British Library copy), and at reel 2008 (Harvard University Library copy). eng eebo The vvorkes of Benjamin Jonson. The second volume. Containing these playes, viz. 1 Bartholomew Fayre. 2 The staple of newes. 3 The Divell is an asse. Jonson, Ben, 1641 856 374270 245 0 0 0 0 0 6.57 B The rate of 6.57 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the B category of texts with fewer than 10 defects per 10,000 words. 2009-06 Assigned for keying and markup 2009-07 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2010-05 Sampled and proofread 2010-05 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2011-06 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

THE WORKES OF BENJAMIN JONSON .

The second Volume .

CONTAINING THESE PLAYES , Viz. 1 Bartholomew Fayre . 2 The Staple of Newes . 3 The Divell is an Asse .

LONDON , Printed for RICHARD MEIGHEN , 1640.

BARTHOLMEW FAYRE : A COMEDIE , ACTED IN THE YEARE , 1614.

By the Lady ELIZABETHS SERVANTS .

And then dedicated to King IAMES , of most Blessed Memorie ;

By the Author , BENIAMIN IOHNSON .

Si foret in terris , rideret Democritus : nam Spectaret populum ludis attentiùs ipsis , Vt sibi praebentem , mimo spectacula plura . Scriptores autem narrare putaret assello Fabellam surdo . Hor. lib. 2. Epist. 1.

LONDON , Printed by I. B. for ROBERT ALLOT , and are to be sold at the signe of the Beare , in Pauls Church-yard . 1631.

THE PROLOGVE TO THE KINGS MAIESTY . YOur Maiesty is welcome to a Fayre ; Such place , such men , such language & such ware , You must expect : with these , the zealous noyse Of your lands Faction , scandaliz'd at toyes , As Babies , Hobby-horses , Puppet-playes , And such like rage , whereof the petulant wayes Your selfe haue knowne , and haue bin vext with long . These for your sport , without perticular wrong , Or iust complaint of any priuate man , ( Who of himselfe , or shall thinke well or can ) The Maker doth present : and hopes , to night To giue you for a Fayring , true delight .
THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY . IOHN LITTLE WIT. A Proctor . WIN LITTLE-WIT . His wife . DAME PVRECRAFT . Her mother and a widdow . ZEAL-OF-THE-LAND BVSY. Her Suitor , a Banbury man . WIN-WIFE . His Riuail , a Gentleman . QVARLOVS . His companion , a Gamester . BARTHOLMEW COKES . An Esquire of Harrow . HVMPHREY WASPE. His man . ADAM OVER-DOO . A Iustice of Peace . DAME OVER DOO . His wife . GRACE WELBORNE . His Ward . LANT . LEATHERHEAD . A Hobbi-horse seller . IOANE TRASH . A Ginger-bread woman . EZECHIEL EDGWORTH . A Cutpurse . NIGHTINGALE . A Ballad-singer . VRSLA. A Pigge-woman . MOON-CALFE . Her Tapster . IORDAN KNOCK-HVM . A Horse-courser , and ranger o' Turnbull . VAL. CVTTING . A Roarer . CAPTAINE WHIT. A Bawd . PVNQVE ALICE . Mistresse o' the Game . TROVBLE-ALL . A Madman . WHTCHMEN , three . COSTARD . monger . MOVSETRAP . man . CLOTHIER . WRESTLER . PORTERS . DOORE-KEEPERS . PVPPETS .
THE INDVCTION . ON THE STAGE . STAGE-KEEPER .

GEntlemen , haue a little patience , they are e'en vpon comming , instantly . He that should beginne the Play , Master Littlewit , the Proctor , has a stitch new falne in his black silk stocking ; 't will be drawn vp ere you can tell twenty . He playes one o' the Arches , that dwels about the Hospitall , and hee has a very pretty part . But for the whole Play , will you ha' the truth on 't ? ( I am looking , lest the Poet heare me , or his man , Master Broome , behind the Arras ) it is like to be a very conceited scuruy one , in plaine English . When 't comes to the Fayre , once : you were e'en as good goe to Virginia , for any thing there is of Smith-field . Hee has not hit the humors , he do's not know 'hem ; hee has not conuers'd with the Bartholmew-birds , as they say ; hee has ne're a Sword , and Buckler man in his Fayre , nor a little Dauy , to take toll o' the Bawds there , as in my time , nor a Kind-heart , if any bodies teeth should chance to ake in his Play . Nor a Iugler with a wel-educated Ape to come ouer the chaine , for the King of England , and backe againe for the Prince , and sit still on his arse for the Pope , and the King of Spaine ! None o 'these fine sights ! Nor has he the Canuas-cut i' the night , for a Hobby-horse-man to creepe into his she-neighbour , and take his leap there ! Nothing ! No , and some writer ( that I know ) had had but the penning o' this matter , hee would ha' made you such a Iig-ajogge i' the boothes , you should ha' thought an earthquake had beene i' the Fayre ! But these Master - Poets , they will ha' their owne absurd courses ; they will be inform'd of nothing ! Hee has ( sirreuerence ) kick'd me three , or foure times about the Tyring-house , I thanke him , for but offering to putt in , with my experience . I 'le be iudg'd by you , Gentlemen , now , but for one conceit of mine ! would not a fine Pumpe vpon the Stage ha' done well , for a property now ? and a Punque set vnder vpon her head , with her Sterne vpward , and ha' beene sous'd by my wity young masters o' the Innes o' Court ? what thinke you o' this for a shew , now ? hee will not heare o' this ! I am an Asse ! I ! and yet I kept the Stage in Master Tarletons time , I thanke my starres . Ho! and that man had liu'd to haue play'd in Bartholmew Fayre , you should ha' seene him ha' come in , and ha' beene coozened i' the Cloath-quarter , so finely ! And Adams , the Rogue , ha leap'd and caper'd vpon him , and ha' dealt his vermine about , as though they had cost him nothing . And then a substantiall watch to ha' stolne in vpon 'hem , and taken 'hem away , with mistaking words , as the fashion is , in the Stage-practice .

Booke-holder : Scriuener . To him . Booke .

How now ? what rare discourse are you falne vpon ? ha ? ha' you found any familiars here , that you are so free ? what 's the businesse ?

Sta.

Nothing , but the vnderstanding Gentlemen o' the ground here , ask'd my iudgement .

Booke .

Your iudgement , Rascall ? for what ? sweeping the Stage ? or gathering vp the broken Apples for the beares within ? Away Rogue , it 's come to a fine degree in these spectacles when such a youth as you pretend to a iudgement . And yet hee may , i' the most o' this matter i'faith : For the Author hath writ it iust to his Meridian , and the Scale of the grounded Iudgements here , his Play-fellowes in wit . Gentlemen ; not for want of a Prologue , but by way of a new one , I am sent out to you here , with a Scriuener , and certaine Articles drawne out in hast betweene our Author , and you ; which if you please to heare , and as they appeare reasonable , to approue of ; the Play will follow presently . Read , Scribe , gi' me the Counterpaine .

Scr.

ARTICLES of Agreement , indented , between the Spectators or Hearers , at the Hope on the Bankeside , in the County of Surrey on the one party ; And the Author of Bartholmew Fayre in the said place , and County on the other party : the one and thirtieth day of Octob. 1614. and in the twelfth yeere of the Raigne of our Soueragine Lord , IAMES by the grace of God King of England , France , & Ireland , Defender of the faith . And of Scotland the seauen and fortieth .

INPRIMIS , It is couenanted and agreed , by and betweene the parties aboue said , and the said Spectators , and Hearers , aswell the curious and enuious , as the fauouring and iudicious , as also the grounded Iudgements and vnderstandings , doe for themselues seuerally Couenant , and agree to remaine in the places , their money or friends haue put them in , with patience , for the space of two houres and an halfe , and somewhat more . In which time the Author promiseth to present them by vs , with a new sufficient Play called BARTHOLMEW FAYRE , merry , and as full of noise , as sport : made to delight all , and to offend none . Prouided they haue either , the wit or the honesty to thinke well of themselues .

It is further agreed that euery person here , haue his or their free-will of censure , to like or dislike at their owne charge , the Author hauing now departed with his right : It shall bee lawfull for any man to iudge his six pen'orth his twelue pen'orth , so to hiseighteene pence , 2. shillings , halfe a crowne , to the value of his place : Prouided alwaies his place get not aboue his wit . And if he pay for halfe a dozen , hee may censure for all them too , so that he will vndertake that they shall bee silent . Hee shall put in for Censures here , as they doe for lots at the lottery : mary if he drop but sixe pence at the doore , and will censure a crownes worth , it is thought there is no conscience , or iustice in that .

It is also agreed , that euery man heere , exercise his owne Iudgement , and not censure by Contagion , or vpon trust , from anothers voice , or face , that sits by him , be he neuer so first , in the Commission of Wit : As also , that hee bee fixt and settled in his censure , that what hee approues , or not approues to day , hee will doe the same to morrow , and if to morrow , the next day , and so the next weeke ( if neede be : ) and not to be brought about by any that sits on the Bench with him , though they indite , and arraigne Playes daily . Hee that will sweare , Ieronimo , or Andronicus are the best playes , yet , shall passe vnexcepted at , heere , as a man whose Iudgement shewes it is constant , and hath stood still , these fiue and twentie , or thirtie yeeres . Though it be an Ignorance , it is a vertuous and stay'd ignorance ; and next to truth , a confirm'd errour does well ; such a one the Author knowes where to finde him .

It is further couenanted , concluded and agreed , that how great soeuer the expectation bee , no person here , is to expect more then hee knowes , or better ware then a Fayre will affoord : neyther to looke backe to the sword and buckler-age of Smithfield , but content himselfe with the present . In stead of a little Dauy , to take toll o' the Bawds , the Author doth promise a strutting Horse-courser , with a leerc-Drunkard , two or three to attend him , in as good Equipage as you would wish . And then for Kinde-heart , the Tooth-drawer , a fine oyly Pig-woman with her Tapster , to bid you welcome , and a consort of Roarers for musique . A wise Iustice of Peace meditant , in stead of a Iugler , with an Ape . A ciuill Cutpurse searchant . A sweete Singer of new Ballads allurant : and as fresh an Hypocrite , as euer was broach'd rampant . If there bee neuer a Seruant-monster i' the Fayre ; who can helpe it ? he fayes ; nor a nest of Antiques ? Hee is loth to make Nature afraid in his Playes , like those that be get Tales , Tempests , and such like Drolleries , to mixe his head with other mens heeles ; let the concupisence of Iigges and Dances , raigne as strong as it will amongst you : yet if the Puppets will please any body , they shall be entreated to come in .

In consideration of which , it is finally agreed , by the foresaid hearers , and spectators , that they neyther in themselues conceale , nor suffer by them to be concealed any State-decipherer , or politique Picklocke of the Scene , so solemnly ridiculous , as to search out , who was meant by the Ginger-bread-woman , who by the Hobby-horse-man , who by the Costard-monger , nay , who by their Wares . Or that will pretend to affirme ( on his owne inspired ignorance ) what Mirror of Magistrates is meant by the Iustice , what great Lady by the Pigge-woman , what conceal'd States-man , by the Seller of Mouse-trappes , and so of the rest . But that such person , or persons so found , be left discouered to the mercy of the Author , as a forfeiture to the Stage , and your laughter , aforesaid . As also , such as shall so desperately , or ambitiously , play the foole by his place aforesaid , to challenge the Author of scurrilitie , because the language some where sauours of Smithfield , the Booth , and the Pig-broath , or of prophanenesse , because a Mad-man cryes , God quit you , or blesse you . In witnesse whereof , as you haue preposterously put to your Seales already ( which is your money ) you will now adde the other part of suffrage , your hands , The Play shall presently begin . And though the Fayre be not kept in the same Region , that some here , perhaps , would haue it , yet thinke , that therein the Author hath obseru'd a speciall Decorum , the place being as durty as Smithfield , and as stinking euery whit .

Howsoeuer , hee prayes you to beleeue , his Ware is still the same , else you will make him iustly suspect that hee that is so loth to looke on a Baby , or an Hobby-horse , heere , would bee glad to take vp a Commodity of them , at any laughter , or losse , in another place .

BARTHOLMEW FAYRE .
ACT. I. SCENE . I. LITTLE-WIT . To him WIN.

A Pretty conceit , and worth the finding ! I ha' such lucke to spinne out these fine things still , and like a Silke-worme , out of my selfe . Her 's Master Bartholomew Cokes , of Harrow o' th hill , i' th County of Middlesex , Esquire , takes forth his Licence , to marry Mistresse Grace Wel-borne of the said place and County : and when do's hee take it foorth ? to day ! the foure and twentieth of August ! Bartholmew day ! Bartholmew vpon Bartholmew ! there 's the deuice ! who would haue mark'd such a leap-frogge chance now ? A very lesse then Ames-ace , on two Dice ! well , goe thy wayes Iohn Little-wit , Proctor Iohn Little-wit : One o' the pretty wits o' Pauls , the Little wit of London ( so thou art call'd ) and some thing beside . When a quirk , or a quiblin do's scape thee , and thou dost not watch , and apprehend it , and bring it afore the Constable of conceit : ( there now , I speake quib too ) let 'hem carry thee out o' the Archdeacons Court , into his Kitchin , and make a Iack of thee , in stead of a Iohn . ( There I am againe la ! ) Win , Good morrow , Win. I marry Win ! Now you looke finely indeed , Win ! this Cap do's conuince ! youl 'd not ha' worne it , Win , nor ha' had it veluet , but a rough countrey Beauer , with a copper-band , like the Conney-skinne woman of Budge-row ? Sweete Win , let me kisse it ! And. her fine high shooes , like the Spanish Lady ! Good Win , goe a litle I would faine see thee pace , pretty Win ! By this fine Cap , I could neuer leaue kissing on 't .

WIN.

Come , indeede la , you are such a foole , still !

LITT.

No , but halfe a one , Win , you are the tother halfe : man and wife make one foole , Win. ( Good ! ) Is there the Proctor , or Doctor indeed , i' the Diocesse , that euer had the fortune to win him such a Win ! ( There I am againe ! ) I doe feele conceits comming vpon mee , more then I am able to turne tongue too . A poxe o' these pretenders , to wit ! your Three Cranes , Miter , and Mermaid men ! Not a corne of true salt , nor a graine of right mustard amongst them all . They may stand for places or so , againe the next Wit fall , and pay two pence in a quart more for their Canary , then other men . But gi' mee the man , can start vp a Iustice of Wit out of six-shillings beare , and giue the law to all the Poets , and Poet-suckers i' Towne , because they are the Players Gossips ? 'Slid , other men haue wiues as fine as the Players , and as well drest . Come hither , Win.

ACT. I. SCENE . IJ. WIN-WIFE . LITTLE WIT. WIN.

WHy , how now Master Little-wit ! measuring of lips ? or molding of kisses ? which is it ?

LITT.

Troth I am a little taken with my Wins dressing here ! Do'st not fine Master Win-wife ? How doe you apprehend , Sir ? Shee would not ha' worne this habit . I challenge all Cheapside , to shew such another : Morefields , Pimlico path , or the Exchange , in a sommer euening , with a Lace to boot as this has . Deare Win , let Master Win-wife kisse you . Hee comes a wooing to our mother Win , and may be our father perhaps , Win. There 's no harme in him , Win.

WIN-W.

None i' the earth , Master Little-wit .

LITT.

●enuy no man , my delicates , Sir .

WIN-W.

Alas , you ha' the garden where they grow still ! A wife heere with a Strawbery-breath , Chery-lips , Apricot-cheekes , and a soft veluet head , like a Melicotton .

LITT.

Good y' faith ! now dulnesse vpon mee , that I had not that before him , that I should not light on 't , as well as he ! Veluet head !

WIN-W.

But my taste , Master Little-wit , tends to fruict of a later kinde : the sober Matron , your wiues mother .

LITT.

I ! wee know you are a Suitor , Sir . Win , and I both , wish you well : by this Licencc here , would you had her , that your two names were as fast in it , as here are a couple . Win would faine haue a fine young father i' law , with a fether : that her mother might hood it , and chaine it , with Mistris Ouer-doo . But , you doe not take the right course , Master Win-wife .

WIN-W.

No ? Master Litle-wit , why ?

LIT.

You are not madde enough .

WIN-W.

How ? Is madnesse a right course ?

LIT.

I say nothing , but I winke vpon Win. You haue a friend , one ( Master - Quarlous ) comes here some times ?

WIN-W.

Why ? he makes no loue to her , do's he ?

LIT.

Not a token worth that euer I saw , I assure you , But —

WIN-W.

What ?

LIT.

He is the more Mad-cap o' the two . You doe not apprehend mee .

WIN.

You haue a hot coale i' your mouth , now , you cannot hold .

LIT.

Let mee out with it , deare Win.

WIN.

I 'll tell him my selfe .

LIT.

Doe , and take all the thanks , and much do good thy pretty heart , Win.

WIN.

Sir , my mother has had her natiuity-water cast lately by the Cunning men in Cow-lane , and they ha' told her her fortune , and doe ensure her , shce shall neuer haue happy houre ; vnlesse shee marry within this sen'night , and when it is , it must be a Madde-man , they say .

LIT.

I , but it must be a Gentle-man Mad-man .

WIN.

Yes , so the tother man of More-fields sayes .

WIN-W.

But do's shee beleeue 'hem ?

LIT.

Yes , and ha's beene at Bedlem twice since , euery day , to enquire if any Gentleman be there , or to come there , mad !

WIN-W.

Why , this is a confederacy , a meere piece of practice vpon her , by these Impostors ?

LIT.

I tell her so ; or else say I , that they meane some young-Madcap-Gentleman ( for the diuell can equiuocate , as well as a Shop-keeper ) and therefore would I aduise you , to be a little madder , then Master Quarlous , hereafter .

WIN.

Where is shee ? stirring yet ?

LIT.

Stirring ! Yes , and studying an old Elder , come from Banbury , a Suitor that puts in heere at meale-tyde , to praise the painefull brethren , or pray that the sweet singers may be restor'd ; Sayes a grace as long as his breath lasts him ! Some time the spirit is so strong with him , it gets quite out of him , and then my mother , or Win , are faine to fetch it againe with Malmesey , or Aqua coelestis .

WIN.

Yes indeed , we haue such a tedious life with him for his dyet , and his clothes too , he breaks his buttons , and cracks seames at euery saying he sobs out .

IOH.

He cannot abide my Vocation , he sayes .

WIN.

No , he told my mother , a Proctor was a claw of the Beast , and that she had little lesse then committed abomination in marrying me so as she ha's done .

IOH.

Euery line ( he sayes ) that a Proctor writes , when it comes to be read in the Bishops Court , is a long blacke hayre , kemb'd out of the tayle of Anti-Christ .

WIN-W.

When came this Proselyte ?

IOH.

Some three dayes since .

ACT. I. SCENE . IIJ. QVARLOVS , IOHN , WIN , WIN-WIFE .

O Sir , ha' you tane soyle , here ? it's well , a man may reach you , after 3. houres running , yet ! what an vnmercifull companion art thou , to quit thy lodging , at such vngentle manly houres ? None but a scatterd couey of Fidlers , or one of these Rag-rakers in dung-hills , or some Marrow-bone man at most , would haue beene vp , when thou wert gone abroad , by all description . I pray thee what aylest thou , thou canst not sleepe ? hast thou Thornes i' thy eye-lids , or Thistles i' thy bed .

WIN-W.

I cannot tell : It seemes you had neither i' your feet ; that tooke this paine to finde me .

QVAR.

No , and I had , all the Lime-hounds o' the City should haue drawne after you , by the sent rather , Mr , Iohn Little-wit ! God saue you , Sir . 'T was a hot night with some of vs , last night , Iohn : shal we pluck a hayre o' the same Wolfe , to day , Proctor Iohn ?

IOH.

Doe you remember Master Quarlous , what wee discourst on , last night ?

QVAR.

Not I , Iohn : nothing that I eyther discourse or doe , at those times I forfeit all to forgetfulnesse .

IOH.

No ? not concerning Win , looke you : there shee is , and drest as I told you she should be : harke you Sir , had you forgot ?

QVAR.

By this head , I 'le beware how I keepe you company , Iohn , when I drunke , and you haue this dangerous memory ! that 's certaine .

IOH.

Why Sir ?

QVAR.

Why ? we were all a little stain'd last night , sprinckled with a cup or two , and I agreed with Proctor Iohn heere , to come and doe somewhat with Win ( I know not what 't was ) to day ; and he puts mee in minde on 't , now ; hee sayes hee was comming to fetch me : before Truth , if you haue that fearefull quality , Iohn , to remember , when you are sober , Iohn , what you promise drunke , Iohn ; I shall take heed of you , Iohn . For this once , I am content to winke at you , where 's your wife ? come hither Win. He kisseth her .

WIN.

Why , Iohn ! doe you see this , Iohn ? looke you ! helpe me , Iohn .

IOH.

O Win , fie , what do you meane , Win ! Be womanly , Win ; make an outcry to your mother , Win ? Master Quarlous is an honest Gentleman , and our worshipfull good friend , Win : and he is Master Winwifes friends , too : And Master Win-wife comes a Suitor to your mother Win ; as I told you before , Win , and may perhaps , be our Father , Win , they 'll do you no harme , Win , they are both our worshipfull good friends . Master Quarlous ! you must know Mr. Quarlous , Win ; you must not quarrell with Master Quarlous , Win.

QVAR.

No , wee 'll kisse againe and fall in .

IOH.

Yes , doe good Win.

WIN.

Y'faith you are a foole , Iohn .

IOH.

A Foole-Iohn she calls me , doe you marke that , Gentlemen ? pretty littlewit of veluet ! a foole - Iohn !

QVAR.

She may call you an Apple - Iohn , if you vse this .

WIN-W.

Pray thee forbeare , for my respect somewhat .

QVAR.

Hoy-day ! how respectiue you are become o' the sudden ! I feare this family will turne you reformed too , pray you come about againe . Because she is in possibility to be your daughter in law , and may aske you blessing hereafter , when she courts it to Totnam to eat creame . Well , I will forbeare , Sir , but i'faith , would thou wouldst leaue thy exercise of widdow-hunting once ! this drawing after an old reuerend Smocke by the splay-foote : There cannot be an ancient Tripe or Trillibub i' the Towne , but thou art straight nosing it , and 't is a fine occupation thou 'lt confine thy selfe to , when thou ha'st got one ; scrubbing a piece of Buffe , as if thou hadst the perpetuity of Pannyer-alley to stinke in ; or perhaps , worse , currying a carkasse , that thou hast bound thy selfe to aliue . I 'll besworne , some of them , ( that thou art , or hast beene a Suitor to ) are so old , as no chast or marryed pleasure can euer become 'hem : the honest Instrument of procreation , has ( forty yeeres since ) left to belong to 'hem , thou must visit 'hem , as thou wouldst doe a Tombe , with a Torch , or three hand-fulls of Lincke , flaming hot , and so thou maist hap to make 'hem feele thee , and after , come to inherit according to thy inches . A sweet course for a man to waste the brand of life for , to be still raking himselfe a fortune in an old womans embers ; we shall ha' thee after thou hast beene but a moneth marryed to one of 'hem , looke like the quartane ague , and the black Iaundise met in a face , and walke as if thou had'st borrow'd legges of a Spinner , and voyce of a Cricket . I would endure to heare fifteene Sermons aweeke for her , and such course , and lowd one's , as some of 'hem must be ; I would een desire of Fate , I might dwell in a drumme , and take in my sustenance , with an old broken Tobacco-pipe and a Straw . Dost thou euer thinke to bring thine eares or stomack , to the patience of a drie grace , as long as thy Tablecloth ? and droan'd out by thy sonne , here , ( that might be thy father ; ) till all the meat o' thy board has forgot , it was that day i' the Kitchin ? Or to brooke the noise made , in a question of Predestination , by the good labourers and painefull eaters , assembled together , put to 'hem by the Matron , your Spouse ; who moderates with a cup of wine , euer and anone , and a Sentence out of Knoxe between ? or the perpetuall spitting , before , and after a sober drawne exhortation of six houres , whose better part was the hune-hahum ? Or to heare prayers groan'd out , ouer thy iron-chests , as if they were charmes to breake 'hem ? And all this for the hope of two Apostle-spoones , to suffer ! and a cup to eate a cawdle in ! For that will be thy legacy . She 'll ha' conuey'd her state , safe enough from thee , an' she be a right widdow .

WIN.

Alasse , I am quite off that sent now .

QVAR.

How so ?

WIN W.

Put off by a Brother of Banbury , one , that , they say , is come heere , and gouernes all , already .

QVAR.

What doe you call him ? I knew diuers of those Banburians when I was in Oxford .

WIN-W.

Master Little-wit can tell vs.

IOH.

Sir ! good Win , goe in , and if Master Bartholmew Cokes - his man come for the Licence : ( the little old fellow ) let him speake with me ; what say you , Gentlemen ?

WIN-W.

What call you the Reuerend Elder ? you told me of ? your Banbury-man .

IOH.

Rabbi Busy , Sir , he is more then an Elder , he is a Prophet , Sir .

QVAR.

O , I know him ! a Baker , is he not ?

IOH.

Hee was a Baker , Sir , but hee do's dreame now , and see visions , hee has giuen ouer his Trade .

QVAR.

I remember that too : out of a scruple hee tooke , that ( in spic'd conscience ) those Cakes hee made , were seru'd to Bridales , May-poles , Morrisses , and such prophane feasts and meetings ; his Christen-name is Zeale-of-the-land .

IOH.

Yes , Sir , Zeale-of-the-land Busye .

WIN-W.

How , what a name 's there !

IOH.

O , they haue all such names , Sir ; he was Witnesse , for Win , here , ( they will not be call'd God-fathers ) and nam'd her Winne-the-fight , you thought her name had beene Winnifred , did you not ?

WIN-W.

I did indeed .

IOH.

Hee would ha' thought himselfe a starke Reprobate , if it had .

QVAR.

I , for there was a Blew-starch-woman o' the name , at the same time . Anotable hypocriticall vermine it is ; I know him . One that stands vpon his face , more then his faith , at all times ; Euer in seditious motion , and reprouing for vaine-glory : of a most lunatique conscience , and splene , and affects the violence of Singularity in all he do's : ( He has vndone a Grocer here , in New-gate-market , that broke with him , trusted him with Currans , as errant a Zeale as he , that 's by the way : by his profession , hee will euer be i' the state of Innocence , though ; and child-hood ; derides all Antiquity ; defies any other Learning , then Inspiration ; and what discretion soeuer , yeeres should afford him , it is all preuented in his Originall ignorance ; ha' not to doe with him : for hee is a fellow of a most arrogant , and inuincible dulnesse , I assure you ; who is this ?

ACT. I. SCEENE . IIIJ. WASPE. IOHN . WIN-WIFE . QVARLOVS .

BY your leaue , Gentlemen , with all my heart to you : and god you good morrow ; Mr Little-wit , my businesse is to you . Is this Licence ready ?

IOH.

Heere , I ha' it for you , in my hand , Master Humphrey .

WAS.

That 's well , nay , neuer open , or read it to me , it 's labour in vaine , you know . I am no Clearke , I scorne to be sau'd by my booke , i'faith I 'll hang first ; fold it vp o' your word and gi' it mee ; what must you ha' for 't ?

IOH.

We 'll talke of that anon , Master Humphrey .

WAS.

Now , or not at all , good Mr Proctor , I am for no anon's , I assure you .

IOH.

Sweet Win , bid Salomon send mee the little blacke boxe within , in my study .

WAS.

I , quickly , good Mistresse , I pray you : for I haue both egges o' the Spit , and yron i' the fire , say , what you must haue , good Mr Little-wit .

IOH.

Why , you know the price , Mr Numps .

WAS.

I know ? I know nothing . I , what tell you mee of knowing ? ( now I am in hast ) Sir , I do not know , and I will not know , and I scorne to know , and yet , ( now I think on 't ) I will , and do know , as well as another ; you must haue a Marke for your thing here , and eight pence for the boxe ; I could ha' sau'd two pence i' that , an' I had bought it my selfe , but heere 's foureteene shillings for you . Good Lord ! how long your little wife staies ! pray God , Salomon , your Clerke , be not looking i' the wrong boxe , Mr Proctor .

IOH.

Good i'faith ! no , I warrant you , Salomon is wiser then so , Sir .

WAS.

Fie , fie , fie , by your leaue Master Little-wit , this is scuruy , idle , foolish and abominable , with all my heart ; I doe not like it .

WIN-W.

Doe you heare ? Iacke Little-wit , what businesse do's thy pretty head thinke , this fellow may haue , that he keepes such a coyle with ?

QVAR.

More then buying of ginger-bread i' the Cloyster , here , ( for that wee allow him ) or a guilt pouch i' the Fayre ?

IOH.

Master Quarlous , doe not mistake him : he is his Masters both-hands , I assure you .

QVAR.

What ? to pull on his boots , a mornings , or his stockings , do's hee ?

IOH.

Sir , if you haue a minde to mocke him , mocke him softly , and looke to'ther way : for if hee apprehend you flout him , once , he will flie at you presently . A terrible testie old fellow , and his name is Waspe too .

QVAR.

Pretty Insect ! make much on him .

WAS.

A plague o' this boxe , and the poxe too , and on him that made it , and her that went for 't , and all that should ha' sought it , sent it , or brought it ! doe you see , Sir ?

IOH.

Nay , good Mr Waspe .

WAS.

Good Master Hornet , turd i' your teeth , hold you your tongue ; doe not I know you ? your father was a Pothecary , and sold glisters , more then hee gaue , I wusse : and turd i' your little wiues teeth too ( heere she come ) 't will make her spit as fine as she is , for all her veluet-custerd on her head , Sir .

IOH.

O! be ciuill Master Numpes .

WAS.

Why , say I haue a humour not to be ciuill ; how then ? who shall compell me ? you ?

IOH.

Here is the boxe , now .

WAS.

Why a pox o' your boxe , once againe : let your little wife stale in it , and she will . Sir , I would haue you to vnderstand , and these Gentlemen too , if they please —

WIN-W.

With all our hearts . Sir .

WAS.

That I haue a charge . Gentlemen .

IOH.

They doe apprehend , Sir .

WAS.

Pardon me , Sir , neither they nor you , can apprehend mee , yet . ( you are an Asse ) I haue a young Master , hee is now vpon his making and marring ; the whole care of his well doing , is now mine . His foolish scholemasters haue done nothing , but runne vp and downe the Countrey with him , to beg puddings , and cake-bread , of his tennants , and almost spoyled him , he has learn'd nothing , but to sing catches , and repeat rattle bladder rattle , and O , Madge . I dare not let him walke alone , for feare of learning of vise tunes , which hee will sing at supper , and in the sermon-times ! if hee meete but a Carman i' the streete , and I finde him not talke to keepe him off on him , hee will whistle him , and all his tunes ouer , at night in his sleepe ! he has a head full of Bees ! I am faine now ( for this little time I am absent ) to leaue him in charge with a Gentlewoman ; 'T is true , shee is A Iustice of Peace his wife , and a Gentlewoman o' the hood , and his naturall sister : But what may happen , vnder a womans gouernment , there 's the doubt . Gentlemen , you doe not know him : hee is another manner of peece then you think for ! but nineteen yeere old , and yet hee is taller then either of you , by the head , God blesse him .

QVAR.

Well , mee thinkes , this is a fine fellow !

WIN-W.

He has made his Master a finer by this description , I should thinke .

QVAR.

'Faith , much about one , it 's crosse and pile , whether for a new farthing .

WAS.

I 'll tell you Gentlemen —

IOH.

Will 't please you drinke , Master Waspe ?

WAS.

Why , I ha' not talk 't so long to be drie , Sir , you see no dust or cobwebs come out o' my mouth : doe you ? you 'ld ha' me gone , would you ?

IOH.

No , but you were in hast e'en now , Mr Numpes .

WAS.

What an' I were ? so I am still , and yet I will stay too ; meddle you with your match , your Win , there , she has as little wit , as her husband it seemes : I haue others to talke to .

IOH.

She 's my match indeede , and as little wit as I , Good !

WAS.

We ha' bin but a day and a halfe in towne , Gentlemen , 't is true ; and yester day i' the afternoone , we walk'd London , to shew the City to the Gentlewoman , he shall marry , Mistresse Grace ; but , afore I will endure such another halfe day , with him , I 'll be drawne with a good Gib-cat , through the great pond at home , as his vncle Hodge was ! why , we could not meet that heathen thing , all day , but stayd him : he would name you all the Signes ouer , as hee went , aloud : and where hee spi'd a Parrat , or a Monkey , there hee was pitch'd , with all the littl-long-coats about him , male and female ; no getting him away ! I thought he would ha' runne madde o' the blacke boy in Bucklers-bury , that takes the scury , roguy tobacco , there .

IOH.

You say true , Master Numpes : there 's such a one indeed .

WAS.

It 's no matter , whether there be , or no , what 's that to you ?

QVAR.

He will not allow of Iohn's reading at any hand ,

ACT. I. SCENE . V. COKES . Mistris OVER-DOO . WASPE. GRACE . QVARLOVS . WIN-WIFE . IOHN . WIN.

O Numpes ! are you here Numpes ? looke where I am , Numpes ! and Mistris Grace , too ! nay , doe not looke angerly , Numpes : my Sister is heere , and all , I doe not come without her .

WAS.

What , the mischiefe , doe you come with her ? or shee with you ?

COK.

We came all to seeke you , Numpes .

WAS.

To seeke mee ? why , did you all thinke I was lost ? or runne away with your foureteene shillings worth of small ware , here ? or that I had chang'd it i' the Fayre , for hobby-horses ? S'pretious — to seeke me !

OVER.

Nay , good Mr Numpes , doe you shew discretion , though he bee exorbitant , ( as Mr Ouer doo saies , ) and 't be but for conseruation of the peace .

WAS.

Mary gip , goody she - Iustice , Mistris French-hood ! turd i' your teeth ; and turd i' your French-hoods teeth , too , to doe you seruice , doe you see ? must you quote your Adam to me ! you thinke , you are Madam Regent still , Mistris Ouer-doo ; when I am in place ? no such matter , I assure you , your raigne is out , when I am in , Dame .

OVER.

I am content to be in abeyance , Sir , and be gouern'd by you ; so should hee too , if he did well ; but 't will be expected , you should also gouerne your passions .

WAS.

Will 't so forsooth ? good Lord ! how sharpe you are ! with being at Bet'lem yesterday ? Whetston has set an edge vpon you , has hee ?

OVER.

Nay , if you know not what belongs to your dignity : I doe , yet , to mine .

WAS.

Very well , then .

COK.

Is this the Licence , Numpes ? for Loues sake , let me see 't . I neuer saw a Licence .

WAS.

Did you not so ? why , you shall not see 't , then .

COK.

An' you loue mee , good Numpes .

WAS.

Sir , I loue you , and yet I do not loue you , i' these fooleries , set your heart at rest ; there 's nothing in 't , but hard words : and what would you see 't for ?

COK.

I would see the length and the breadth on 't , that 's all ; and I will see 't now , so I will .

WAS.

You sha' not see it , heere .

COK.

Then I 'll see 't at home , and I 'll looke vpo' the case heere .

WAS.

Why , doe so , a man must giue way to him a little in trifles : Gentlemen . These are errors , diseases of youth : which he will mend , when he comes to iudgement , and knowledge of matters . I pray you conceiue so , and I thanke you . And I play you pardon him , and I thanke you againe .

QVAR.

Well , this dry-nurse , I say still , is a delicate man .

WIN-W.

And I , am , for the Cosset , his charge ! Did you euer see a fellowes face more accuse him for an Asse ?

QVAR.

Accuse him ? it confesses him one without accusing . What pitty 't is yonder wench should marry such a Cokes ?

WIN-W.

'T is true .

QVAR.

Shee seemes to be discreete , and as sober as shee is handsome .

WIN-W.

I , and if you marke her , what a restrain'd scorne she casts vpon all his behauiour , and speeches ?

COK.

Well , Numpes , I am now for another piece of businesse more , the Fayre , Numpes , and then —

WAS.

Blesse me ! deliuer me , helpe , hold mee ! the Fayre !

COK.

Nay , neuer fidge vp and downe , Numpes , and vexe it selfe . I am resolute Bartholmew , in this ; I l'e make no suite on 't to you ; 't was all the end of my iourney , indeed , to shew Mistris Grace my Fayre : I call 't my Fayre , because of Bartholmew : you know my name is Bartholmew , and Bartholmew Fayre .

IOH.

That was mine afore , Gentlemen : this morning . I had that i'faith , vpon his Licence , beleeue me , there he comes , after me .

QVAR.

Come , Iohn , this ambitious wit of yours , ( I am afraid ) will doe you no good i' the end .

IOH.

No ? why Sir ?

QVAR.

You grow so insolent with it , and ouerdoing , Iohn : that if you looke not to it , and tie it vp , it will bring you to some obscure place in time , and there 't will leaue you .

WIN-W.

Doe not trust it too much , Iohn , be more sparing , and vse it , but now and then ; a wit is a dangerous thing , in this age ; doe not ouer buy it .

IOH.

Thinke you so , Gentlemen ? I 'll take heed on 't , hereafter .

WIN.

Yes , doe Iohn .

COK.

A prety little soule , this same Mistris Little-wit ! would I might marry her .

GRA.

So would I , or any body else , so I might scape you ,

COK.

Numps , I will see it , Numpes , 't is decreed : neuer be melancholy for the matter .

WAS.

Why , see it , Sir , see it , doe see it ! who hinders you ? why doe you not goe see it ? 'Slid see it .

COK.

The Fayre , Numps , the Fayre .

WAS.

World the Fayre and all the Drums , and Rattles in 't , were i' your belly for mee : they are already i' your braine : he that had the meanes to trauell you head , now , should meet finer sights then any are i' the Fayre ; and make a finer voyage on 't ; to see it all hung with cockle-shels , pebbles , fine wheat-strawes , and here and there a chicken's feather , and a cob-web .

QVAR.

Good faith , hee lookes , me thinkes an' you marke him , like one that were made to catch flies , with his Sir Cranion-legs .

WIN-W.

And his Numpes , to flap 'hem away .

WAS.

God , bew ' you , Sir , there 's your Bee in a box , and much good doo 't , you .

COK.

Why , your friend , and Bartholmew ; an' you be so contumacious .

QVAR.

What meane you , Numpes ?

WAS.

I 'll not be guilty , I , Gentlemen .

OVER.

You will not let him goe , Brother , and loose him ?

COK.

Who can hold that will away ? I had rather loose him then the Fayre , I wusse .

WAS.

You doe not know the inconuenience , Gentlemen , you perswade to : nor what trouble I haue with him in these humours . If he goe to the Fayre , he will buy of euery thing , to a Baby there ; and houshold-stuffe for that too . If a legge or an arme on him did not grow on , hee would lose it i' the presse . Pray heauen I bring him off with one stone ! And then he is such a Rauener after fruite ! you will not beleeue what a coyle I had , t'other day , to compound a businesse betweene a Katerne-peare-woman , and him , about snatching ! 't is intolerable , Gentlemen .

WIN-W.

O! but you must not leaue him , now , to these hazards , Numpes .

WAS.

Nay , hee knowes too well , I will not leaue him , and that makes him presume : well , Sir , will you goe now ? if you haue such an itch i' your feete , to foote it to the Fayre , why doe you stop , am I your Tarriars ? goe , will you goe ? Sir , why doe you not goe ?

COK.

O Numps ! haue I brought you about ? come Mistresse Grace , and Sister , I am resolute Batt , i'faith , still .

GRA.

Truely , I haue no such fancy to the Fayre ; nor ambition to see it ; there 's none goes thither of any quality or fashion .

COK.

O Lord , Sir ! you shall pardon me , Mistris Grace , we are inow of our selues to make it a fashion : and for qualities , let Numps alone , he 'l finde qualities .

QVAR.

What a Rogue in apprehension is this ! to vnderstand her language no better .

WIN-W.

I , and offer to marry to her ? well , I will leaue the chase of my widdow , for to day , and directly to the Fayre . These flies cannot , this hot season , but engender vs excellent creeping sport .

QVAR.

A man that has but a spoone full of braine , would think so . Farewell , Iohn .

IOH.

Win , you see , 't is in fashion , to goe to the Fayre , Win : we must to the Fayre too , you , and I , Win. I haue an affaire i' the Fayre , Win , a Puppet-play of mine owne making , say nothing , that I writ for the motion man , which you must see , Win.

WIN.

I would I might Iohn , but my mother will neuer consent to such a prophane motion : she will call it .

IOH.

Tut , we 'll haue a deuice , a dainty one ; ( Now , Wit , helpe at a pinch , good Wit come , come , good Wit , and 't be thy will . ) I haue it , Win , I haue it 'ifaith , and 't is a fine one . Win , long to eate of a Pigge , sweet Win , i' the Fayre ; doe you see ? i' the heart o' the Fayre ; not at Pye-Corner . Your mother will doe any thing , Win , to satisfie your longing , you know , pray thee long , presently , and be sicke o' the sudden , good Win. I 'll goe in and tell her , cut thy lace i' the meane time , and play the Hypocrite , sweet Win.

WIN.

No , I 'll not make me vnready for it . I can be Hypocrite enough , though I were neuer so straight lac'd .

IOH.

You say true , you haue bin bred i' the family , and brought vp to 't . Our mother is a most elect Hypocrite , and has maintain'd us all this seuen yeere with it , like Gentle-folkes .

WIN.

I , Let her alone , Iohn , she is not a wise wilfull widdow for nothing , nor a sanctified sister for a song . And let me alone too , I ha' somewhat o' the mother in me , you shall see , fetch her , fetch her , ah , ah .

ACT. I. SCENE . VI. PVRECRAFT . WIN. IOHN . BVSY. SALOMON .

NOw , the blaze of the beauteous discipline , fright away this euill from our house ! how now Win-the-fight , Child : how do you ? Sweet child , speake to me .

WIN.

Yes , forsooth .

PVR.

Looke vp , sweet Win-the-fight , and suffer not the enemy to enter you at this doore , remember that your education has bin with the purest , what polluted one was it , that nam'd first the vncleane beast , Pigge , to you , Child ?

WIN.

( Vh , vh . )

IOH.

Not I , o' my sincerity , mother : she long'd aboue three houres , ere she would let me know it ; who was it Win ?

WIN.

A prophane blacke thing with a beard , Iohn .

PVR.

O! resist it , Win-the-fight , it is the Tempter , the wicked Tempter , you may know it by the fleshly motion of Pig , be strong against it , and it 's foule temptations , in these assaults , whereby it broacheth flesh and blood , as it were , on the weaker side , and pray against it's carnall prouocations , good child , sweet child , pray .

IOH.

Good mother , I pray you ; that she may eate some Pigge , and her belly full , too ; and doe not you cast away your owne child , and perhaps one of mine , with your tale of the Tempter : how doe you , Win ? Are you not sicke ?

WIN.

Yes , a great deale , Iohn , ( vh , vh . )

PVR.

What shall we doe ? call our zealous brother Busy hither , for his faithfull fortification in this charge of the aduersary ; child , my deare childe , you shall eate Pigge , be comforted , my sweet child .

WIN.

I , but i' the Fayre , mother .

PVR.

I meane i' the Fayre , if it can be any way made , or found lawfull ; where is our brother Busy ? Will hee not come ? looke vp , child .

IOH.

Presently , mother , as soone as he has cleans'd his beard . I found him , fast by the teeth , i' the cold Turkey-pye , i' the cupbord , with a great white loafe on his left hand , and a glasse of Malmesey on his right .

PVR.

Slander not the Brethren , wicked one .

IOH.

Here hee is , DO● , purified , Mother .

PVR.

O brother Busye your helpe heere to edifie , and raise vs vp in a scruple ; my daughter Win-the-fight is visited with a naturall disease of women ; call'd , A longing to eate Pigge .

IOH.

I Sir , a Bartholmew-pigge : and in the Fayre .

PVR.

And I would be satisfied from you , Religiously-wise , whether a widdow of the sanctified assembly , or a widdowes daughter , may commit the act , without offence to the weaker sisters .

BVS.

Verily , for the disease of longing , it is a disease , a carnall disease , or appetite , incident to women : and as it is carnall , and incident , it is naturall , very naturall : Now Pigge , it is a meat , and a meat that is nourishing , and may be long'd for , and so consequently eaten ; it may be eaten ; very exceeding well eaten : but in the Fayre , and as a Bartholmew-pig , it cannot be eaten , for the very calling it a Bartholmew-pigge , and to eat it so , is a spice of Idolatry , and you make the Fayre , no better then one of the high Places . This I take it , is the state of the question . A high place .

IOH.

I , but in state of necessity : Place should giue place , Mr Busy , ( I haue a conceit left , yet . )

PVR.

Good Brother , Zeale-of-the-land , thinke to make it as lawfull as you can .

IOH.

Yes Sir , and as soone as you can : for it must be Sir ; you see the danger my little wife is in , Sir .

PVR.

Truely , I doe loue my child dearely , and I would not haue her miscarry , or hazard her first fruites , if it might be otherwise .

BVS.

Surely , it may be otherwise , but it is subiect , to construction , subiect , and hath a face of offence , with the weake , a great face , a foule face , but that face may haue a vaile put ouer it , and be shaddowed , as it were , it may be eaten , and in the Fayre , I take it , in a Booth , the tents of the wicked : the place is not much , not very much , we may be religious in midst of the prophane , so it be eaten with a reformed mouth , with sobriety , and humblenesse ; not gorg'd in with gluttony , or greedinesse ; there 's the feare : for , should she goe there , as taking pride in the place , or delight in the vncleane dressing , to feed the vanity of the eye , or the lust of the palat , it were not well , it were not fit , it were abominable , and not good .

IOH.

Nay , I knew that afore , and told her on 't , but courage , Win , we 'll be humble enough ; we 'll seeke out the homeliest Booth i' the Fayre , that 's certaine , rather then faile , wee 'll eate it o' the ground .

PVR.

I , and I 'll goe with you my selfe , Win-the-fight , and my brother , Zeale-of-the-land , shall goe with vs too , for our better consolation .

WIN.

Vh , vh .

IOH.

I , and Salomon too , Win , ( the more the merrier ) Win , we 'll leaue Rabby Busy in a Booth . Salomon , my cloake .

SAL.

Here , Sir .

BVS.

In the way of comfort to the weake , I will goe , and eat . I will eate exceedingly , and prophesie ; there may be a good vse made of it , too , now I thinke on 't : by the publike eating of Swines flesh , to professe our hate , and loathing of Iudaisme , whereof the brethren stand taxed . I will therefore eate , yea , I will eate exceedingly .

IOH.

Good , i'faith , I will eate heartily too , because I will be no Iew , I could neuer away with that stiffenecked generation : and truely , I hope my little one will be like me , that cries for Pigge so , i' the mothers belly .

BVS.

Very likely , exceeding likely , very exceeding likely .

ACT. II. SCENE . I. IVSTICE OVER DOO .

WEll , in Iustice name , and the Kings ; and for the common-wealth ! defie all the world , Adam Ouerdoo , for a disguise , and all story ; for thou hast fitted thy selfe , I sweare ; faine would I meet the Linceus now , that Eagles eye , that peircing Epidaurian serpent ( as my Quint. Horace cal's him ) that could discouer a Iustice of Peace , ( and lately of the Quorum ) vnder this couering . They may haue seene many a foole in the habite of a Iustice ; but neuer till now , a Iustice in the habit of a foole . Thus must we doe , though , that wake for the publike good : and thus hath the wise Magistrate done in all ages . There is a doing of right out of wrong , if the way be found . Neuer shall I enough commend a worthy worshipfull man , sometime a capitall member of this City , for his high wisdome , in this point , who would take you , now the habit of a Porter ; now of a Carman ; now of the Dog-killer , in this moneth of August ; and in the winter , of a Seller of tinder-boxes ; and what would hee doe in all these shapes ? mary goe you into euery Alehouse , and down into euery Celler ; measure the length of puddings , take the gage of blacke pots , and cannes , I , and custards with a sticke ; and their circumference , with a thrid ; weigh the loaues of bread on his middle-finger ; then would he send for 'hem , home ; giue the puddings to the poore , the bread to the hungry , the custards to his children ; breake the pots , and burne the cannes , himselfe ; hee Would not trust his corrupt officers ; he would do 't himselfe . would all men in authority would follow this worthy president ! For ( alas ) as we are publike persons , what doe we know ? nay , what can wee know ? wee heare with other mens eares ; wee see with other mens eyes ? a foolish Constable , or a sleepy Watchman , is all our information , he slanders a Gentleman , by the vertue of his place , ( as he calls it ) and wee by the vice of ours , must beleeue him . As a while agone , they made mee , yea me , to mistake an honest zealous Pursiuant , for a Seminary : and a proper yong Batcheler of Musicke , for a Bawd . This wee are subiect to , that liue in high place , all our intelligence is idle , and most of our intelligencers , knaues : and by your leaue , ourselues , thought little better , if not errant fooles , for beleeuing 'hem . I Adam Ouerdoo , am resolu'd therefore , to spare spy-money hereafter , and make mine owne discoueries . Many are the yeerely enormities of of this Fayre , in whose courts of Pye-pouldres I haue had the honour during the three dayes sometimes to sit as Iudge . But this is the speciall day for detection of those foresaid enormities . Here is my blacke booke , for the purpose ; this the cloud that hides me : vnder this couert I shall see , and not be seene . On Iunius Brutus . And as I began , so I 'll end : in Iustice name , and the Kings ; and for the Common-wealth .

ACT. II. SCENE . II. LEATHERHEAD . TRASH . IVSTICE . VRS'LA . MOONE-CALFE . NIGHTINGALE . Costermonger . Passengers .

THe Fayre's pestlence dead , mee thinkes ; people come not abroad , to day , what euer the matter is . Doe you heare , Sister Trash , Lady o' the Basket ? sit farther with your ginger-bread-progeny there , and hinder not the prospect of my shop , or I 'll ha' it proclaim'd i' the Fayre , what stuffe they are made on .

TRA.

Why , what stuffe are they made on , Brother Leatherhead ? nothing but what 's wholesome , I assure you .

LEA.

Yes , stale bread , rotten egges , musty ginger , and dead honey , you know .

IVS.

I ! haue I met with enormity , so soone ?

LEA.

I shall marre your market , old Ione .

TRA.

Marre my market , thou too-proud Pedler ? do thy worst ; I defie thee , I , and thy stable of hobby-horses . I pay for my ground , as well as thou dost , and thou wrong'st mee for all thou art parcell-poet , and an Inginer . I 'll finde a friend shall right me , and make a ballad of thee , and thy cattell all ouer . Are you pust vp with the pride of your wares ? your Arsedine ?

LEA.

Goe to , old Ione , I 'll talke with you anone ▪ and take you downe too , afore Iustice Ouerdoo , he is the man must charme you , I le ha' you i' the Piepouldres .

TRA.

Charme me ? I 'll meet thee face to face , afore his worship , when thou dar'st : and though I be a little crooked o' my body , I 'll be found as vpright in my dealing , as any woman in Smithfield , I , charme me ?

IVS.

I am glad , to heare , my name is their terror , yet , this is doing of Iustice .

LEA.

What doe you lacke ? what is 't you buy ? what do you lacke ? Rattles , Drums , Halberts , Horses , Babies o' the best ? Fiddles o' th finest ? Enter Cost .

COS.

Buy any peares , peares , fine , very fine peares .

TRA.

Buy any ginger-bread , guilt ginger-bread !

NIG. Hey , now the Fayre 's a filling ! O , for a Tune to startle The Birds o' the Booths here billing ; Yeerely with old Saint Barthle ! The Drunkards they are wading , The Punques , and Chapmen trading ;

who 'ld see the Fayre without his lading ? Buy any ballads ; new ballads ?

VRS.

Fye vpon 't : who would weare out their youth , and prime thus , in roasting of pigges , that had any cooler vocation ? Hell 's a kind of cold cellar to 't , a very fine vault , o' my conscience ! what Moone-calfe .

MOO.

Heere . Mistresse .

NIG.

How now Vrsla ? in a heate , in a heat ?

VRS.

My chayre , you false faucet you ; and my mornings draught , quickly , a botle of Ale , to quench mee , Rascall . I am all fire , and fat , Nightingale , I shall e'en melt away to the first woman , a ribbe againe , I am afraid . I doe water the ground in knots , as I goe , like a great Garden-pot , you may follow me by the S.S. s. I make .

NIG.

Alas , good Vr's ; was Zekiel heere this morning ?

VRS.

Zekiel ? what Zekiel ?

NIG.

Zekiel Edgeworth , the ciuill cut-purse , you know him well enough ; hee that talkes bawdy to you still : I call him my Secretary .

VRS.

He promis'd to be heere this morning . I remember .

NIG.

When he comes , bid him stay : I 'll be backe againe presently .

VRS.

Moon-calfe brings in the Chaire . Best take your mornings dew in your belly , Nightingale , come , Sir , set it heere , did not I bid you should get this chayre let out o' the sides , for me , that my hips might play ? you 'll neuer thinke of any thing , till your dame be rumpgall'd ; 't is well , Changeling : because it can take in your Grasse-hoppers thighes , you care for no more . Now , you looke as you had been i' the corner o' the Booth , fleaing your breech , with a candles end , and set fire o' the Fayre . Fill , Stote : fill .

IVS.

This Pig-woman doe I know , and I will put her in , for my second enormity , shee hath beene before mee , Punke , Pinnace and Bawd , any time these two and twenty yeeres , vpon record i' the Pie-poudres .

VRS.

Fill againe , you vnlucky vermine .

MOO.

'Pray you be not angry , Mistresse , I 'll ha' it widen'd anone .

VRS.

No , no , I shall e'en dwindle away to 't , ere the Fayre be done , you thinke , now you ha' heated me ? A poore vex'd thing I am , I feele my selfe dropping already , as fast as I can : two stone a sewet aday is my proportion : I can but hold life & soule together , with this ( heere 's to you , Nightingale ) and a whiffe of tobacco , at most . Where 's my pipe now ? not fill'd ? thou errant Incubee .

NIG.

Nay , Vrsla , thou 'lt gall betweene the tongue and the teeth , with fretting , now .

VRS.

How can I hope , that euer hee 'll discharge his place of trust , Tapster , a man of reckoning vnder me , that remembers nothing I say to him ? but looke too 't , sirrah , you were best , three pence a pipe full , I will ha' made , of all my whole halfe pound of tabacco , and a quarter of a pound of Coltsfoot , mixt with it too , to itch it out . I that haue dealt so long in the fire , will not be to seek in smoak , now . Then 6. and 20. shillings a barrell I will aduance o' my Beere ; and fifty shillings a hundred o' my bottle-ale , I ha' told you the waies how to raise it . Froth your cannes well i' the filling , at length Rogue , and iogge your bottles o' the buttocke , Sirrah , then skinke out the first glasse , euer , and drinke with all companies , though you be sure to be drunke ; you 'll mis-reckon the better , and be lesse asham'd on 't . But your true tricke , Rascall , must be , to be euer busie , and mis-take away the bottles and cannes , in hast , before they be halfe drunke off , and neuer heare any body call , ( if they should chance to marke you ) till you ha' brought fresh , and be able to for sweare 'hem . Giue me a drinke of Ale .

IVS.

This is the very wombe , and bedde of enormitie ! grosse , as her selfe ! this must all downe for enormity , all , euery whit on 't .

VRS.

Looke , who 's there , Sirrah ? One knocks . fiue shillings a Pigge is my price , at least ; if it be a sow-pig , six pence more : if she be a great bellied wife , and long for 't , six pence more for that .

IVS.

O Tempora ! O mores ! I would not ha' lost my discouery of this one grieuance , for my place , and worship o' the Bench , how is the poore subiect abus'd , here ! well , I will fall in with her , and with her Moone-calfe , and winne out wonders of enormity . By thy leaue , goodly woman , and the fatnessc of the Fayre : oyly as the Kings constables Lampe , and shining as his Shooing-horne ! hath thy Ale vertue , or thy Beere strength ? that the tongue of man may be tickled ? and his palat pleas'd in the morning ? let thy pretty Nephew here , goe search and see .

VRS.

What new Roarer is this ?

MOO.

O Lord ! doe you not know him , Mistris , 't is mad Arthur of Bradley , that makes the Orations . Braue Master , old Arthur of Bradley , how doe you ? welcome to the Fayre , when shall wee heare you againe , to handle your matters ? with your backe againe a Booth , ha ? I ha' bin one o' your little disciples , i' my dayes !

IVS.

Let me drinke , boy , with my loue , thy Aunt , here ; that I may be eloquent : but of thy best , lest it be bitter in my mouth , and my words fall foule on the Fayre .

VRS.

Why dost thou not fetch him drinke ? and offer him to sit ?

MOO.

Is' t Ale , or Beere ? Master Arthur ?

IVS.

Thy best , pretty stripling , thy best ; the same thy Doue drinketh , and thou drawest on holy daies .

VRS.

Bring him a sixe penny bottle of Ale ; they say , a fooles handsell is lucky .

IVS.

Bring both , child . Ale for Arthur , and Beere for Bradley . Ale for thine Aunt , boy . My disguise takes to the very wish , and reach of it . I shall by the benefit of this , discouer enough , and more : and yet get off with the reputation of what I would be . A certaine midling thing , betweene a foole and a madman .

ACT. II. SCENE . III. KNOCKHVM . to them .

WHat ! my little leane Vrsla ! my shee-Beare ! art thou aliue yet ? with thy litter of pigges , to grunt out another Bartholmew Fayre ? ha !

VRS.

Yes , and to amble a foote , when the Fayre is done , to heare you groane out of a cart , vp the heauy hill .

KNO.

Of Holbourne , Vrsla , meanst thou so ? for what ? for what , pretty Vrs ?

VRS.

For cutting halfe-penny purses : or stealing little penny dogges , out o' the Fayre .

KNO.

O! good words , good words Vrs .

IVS.

Another speciall enormitie . A cutpurse of the sword ! the boote , and the feather ! those are his marks .

VRS.

You are one of those horsleaches , that gaue out I was dead , in Turne-bull streete , of a surfet of botle ale , and tripes ?

KNO.

No , 't was better meat Vrs : cowes vdders ; cowes vdders !

VRS.

Well , I shall be meet with your mumbling mouth one day .

KNO.

What ? thou 'lt poyson mee with a neuft in a bottle of Ale , will 't thou ? or a spider in a tobacco-pipe , Vrs ? Come , there 's no malice in these fat folkes , I neuer feare thee , and I can scape thy leane Moonecalfe heere . Let 's drinke it out , good Vrs , and no vapours !

IVS.

Dost thou heare , boy ? ( there 's for thy Ale , and the remnant for thee ) speake in thy faith of a faucet , now ; is this goodly person before vs here , this vapours , a knight of the knife ?

MOO.

What meane you by that , Master Arthur ?

IVS.

I meane a child of the horne-thumb , a babe of booty , boy ; a cutpurse .

MOO.

O Lord , Sir ! far from it . This is Master Dan. Knockhum : Iordane the Ranger of Turnebull . He is a horse-courser , Sir .

IVS.

Thy dainty dame , though , call'd him cutpurse .

MOO.

Like enough , Sir , shee 'll doe forty such things in an houre ( an you listen to her ) for her recreation , if the toy take her i' the greasie kerchiefe : it makes her fat you see . Shee battens with it .

IVS.

Here might I ha' beene deceiu'd , now : and ha' put a fooles blot vpon my selfe , if I had not play'd an after game o' discretion .

KNO.

Alas poore Vrs , this 's an ill season for thee . Vrsla comes in againe dropping .

VRS.

Hang your selfe , Hacney-man .

KNO.

How ? how ? Vrs , vapours ! motion breede vapours ?

VRS.

Vapours ? Neuer tuske , nor twirle your dibble , good Iordane , I know what you 'll take to a very drop . Though you be Captaine o' the Roarers , and fight well at the case of pis-pots , you shall not fright me with your Lyon-chap , Sir , nor your tuskes , you angry ? you are hungry : come , a pigs head will stop your mouth , and stay your stomacke , at all times .

KNO.

Thou art such another mad merry Vrs still ! Troth I doe make conscience of vexing thee , now i' the dog-daies , this hot weather , for feare of foundring thee i' the bodie ; and melting down a Piller of the Fayre . Pray thee take thy chayre againe , and keepe state ; and let 's haue a fresh bottle of Ale , and a pipe of tabacco ; and no vapours . I 'le ha' this belly o' thine taken vp , and thy grasse scour'd , wench ; looke ! heere 's EZechiel Edgworth ; a fine boy of his inches , as any is i' the Fayre ! has still money in his purse , and will pay all , with a kind heart ; and good vapours .

ACT. II. SCENE . IIII. To them EDGWORTH . NIGHTINGALE . Corne-cutter . Tinder-box-man . Passengers .

THat I will , indeede , willingly , Master Knockhum , fetch some Ale , and Tabacco .

LEA.

What doe you lacke , Gentlemen ? Maid : see a fine hobby horse for your young Master ; cost you but a token a weeke his prouander .

COR.

Ha' you any cornes ' iyour feete , and toes ?

TIN.

Buy a Mouse-trap , a Mouse-trap , or a Tormentor for a Flea .

TRA.

Buy some Ginger-bread .

NIG. Ballads , Ballads ! fine new ballads : Heare for your loue , and buy for your money . A delicate ballad o' the Ferret and the Coney . A preseruatiue again ' the Punques euill . Another of Goose-greene-starch , and the Deuill . A dozen of diuine points , and the Godly garters . The Fairing of good councell , of an ell and three quarters . What is 't you buy ? The Wind-mill blowne downe by the witches fart ! Or Saint George , that O! did breake the Dragons heart ! EDG.

Master Nightingale , come hither , leaue your mart a little .

NIG.

O my Secretary ! what sayes my Secretarie ?

IVS.

Childe o' the bottles , what 's he ? what he ?

MOO.

A ciuill young Gentleman , Master Arthur , that keepes company with the Roarers , and disburses all , still . He has euer money in his purse ; He payes for them ; and they roare for him : one do's good offices for another . They call him the Secretary , but he serues no body . A great friend of the Ballad-mans they are neuer asunder .

IVS.

What pitty 't is , so ciuill a young man should haunt this debaucht company ? here 's the bane of the youth of our time apparant . A proper penman , I see 't in his countenance , he has a good Clerks looke with him , and I warrant him a quicke hand .

MOO.

A very quicke hand , Sir .

EDG.

All the purses , and purchase , I giue you to day by conueyance , bring hither to Vrsla's presently . This they whisper , that Ouerdoo heares it not . Heere we will meet at night in her lodge , and share . Looke you choose good places , for your standing i' the Fayre , when you sing Nightingale .

VRS.

I , neere the fullest passages ; and shift 'hem often .

EDG.

And i' your singing , you must vse your hawks eye nimbly , and flye the purse to a marke , still , where 't is worne , and o' which side ; that you may gi' me the signe with your beake , or hang your head that way i' the tune .

VRS.

Enough , talke no more on 't : your friendship ( Masters ) is not now to beginne . Drinke your draught of Indenture , your sup of Couenant , and away , the Fayre fils apace , company begins to come in , and I ha' ne'er a Pigge ready , yet .

KNO.

Well said ! fill the cups , and light the tabacco : let 's giue fire i' th' works , and noble vapours .

EDG.

And shall we ha' smockes Vrsla , and good whimsies , ha ?

VRS.

Come , you are i' your bawdy vaine ! the best the Fayre will afford , Zekiel , if Bawd Whit keepe his word ; how doe the Pigges , Moone-calfe ?

MOO.

Very passionate , Mistresse , on on 'hem has wept out an eye . Master Arthur o' Bradley is melancholy , heere , no body talkes to him . Will you any tabacco Master Arthur ?

IVS.

No , boy , let my meditations alone .

MOO.

He 's studying for an Oration , now .

IVS.

If I can , with this daies trauell ; and all my policy , but rescue this youth , here out of the hands of the lewd man , and the strange woman . I will sit downe at night ; and say with my friend Ouid , Iamque opus exegi , quod nec Pouis ira , nec ignis , &c.

KNO.

Here Zekiel ; here 's a health to Vrsla , and a kind vapour , thou hast money i' thy purse still ; and store ! how dost thou come by it ? Pray thee vapour thy friends some in a courteous vapour .

EDG.

Halfe I haue , Master Dan. Knockhum , is alwaies at your seruice ,

IVS.

Ha , sweete nature ! what Goshawke would prey vpon such a Lambe ?

KNO.

Let 's see , what 't is , Zekiel ! count it , come , fill him to pledge mee .

ACT. II. SCENE . V. WIN-WIFE . QVARLOVS . to them .

WEe are heere before 'hem , me thinkes .

QVAR.

All the better , we shall see 'hem come in now .

LEA.

What doe you lacke , Gentlemen , what is 't you lacke ? a fine Horse ? a Lyon ? a Bull ? a Beare ? a Dog , or a Cat ? an excellent fine Bartholmew-bird ? or an Instrument ? what is 't you lacke ?

QVAR.

S'lid ! heere 's Orpheus among the beasts , with his Fiddle , and all !

TRA.

Will you buy any comfortable bread , Gentlemen ?

QVAR.

And Ceres selling her daughters picture , in Ginger-worke !

WIN.

That these people should be so ignorant to thinke vs chapmen for 'hem ! doe wee looke as if wee would buy Ginger-bread ? or Hobby-horses ?

QVAR.

Why , they know no better ware then they haue , nor better customers then come . And our very being here makes vs fit to be demanded , as well as others . Would Cokes would come ! there were a true customer for 'hem .

KNO.

How much is 't ? thirty shillings ? who 's yonder ! Ned Winwife ? and Tom Quarlous , I thinke ! yes , ( gi' me it all ) ( gi' me it all ) Master Win-wife ! Master Quarlous ! will you take a pipe of tabacco with vs ? do not discredit me now , Zekiel .

WIN.

Doe not see him ! he is the roaring horse-courser , pray thee let 's auoyd him : turne downe this way .

QVAR.

S'lud , I 'le see him , and roare with him , too , and hee roar'd as loud as Neptune , pray thee goe with me .

WIN.

You may draw me to as likely an inconuenience , when you please , as this .

QVAR.

Goe to then , come along , we ha' nothing to doe , man , but to see sights , now .

KNO.

Welcome Master Quarlous , and Master Winwife ! will you take any froth , and smoake with vs ?

QVAR.

Yes , Sir , but you 'l pardon vs , if we knew not of so much familiarity betweene vs afore .

KNO.

As what , Sir ?

QVAR.

To be so lightly inuited to smoake , and froth .

KNO.

A good vapour ! will you sit downe , Sir ? this is old Vrsla's mansion , how like you her bower ? heere you may ha' your Punque , and your Pigge in state , Sir , both piping hot .

QVAR.

I had rather ha' my Punque , cold , Sir .

IVS.

There 's for me , Punque ! and Pigge !

VRS.

What Moonecalfe ? you Rogue . She calls within .

MOO.

By and by , the bottle is almost off Mistresse , here Master Arthur .

VRS.

I 'le part you , and your play-fellow there , i' the garded coat , an' you sunder not the sooner .

KNO.

Master Win-wife , you are proud ( me thinkes ) you doe not talke , nor drinke , are you proud ?

WIN.

Not of the company I am in , Sir , nor the place , I assure you .

KNO.

You doe not except at the company ! doe you ? are you in vapours , Sir ?

MOO.

Nay , good Master Dan: Knockhum , respect my Mistris Bower , as you call it ; for the honour of our Booth , none o' your vapours , heere .

VRS.

Why , you thinne leane Polcat you , and they haue a minde to be i' their vapours , must you hinder 'hem ? what did you know Vermine , if they would ha' lost a cloake , or such a triflle ? She comes out with a fire-brand . must you be drawing the ayre of pacification heere ? while I am tormented , within , i' the fire , you Weasell ?

MOO.

Good Mistresse , 't was in the behalfe of your Booth's credit , that I spoke .

VRS ,

Why ? would my Booth ha' broake , if they had fal'ne out in 't ? Sir ? or would their heate ha' fir'd it ? in , you Rogue , and wipe the pigges , and mend the fire , that they fall not , or I 'le both baste and roast you , till your eyes drop out , like 'hem . ( Leaue the bottle behinde you , and be curst a while . )

QVAR.

Body o' the Fayre ! what 's this ? mother o' the Bawds ?

KNO.

No , she 's mother o' the Pigs , Sir , mother o' the Pigs !

WIN.

Mother o' the Furies , I thinke , by her firebrand .

QVAR.

Nay , shee is too fat to be a Fury , sure , some walking Sow of tallow !

WIN.

An inspir'd vessell of Kitchin-stuffe !

QVAR.

She 'll make excellent geere for the Coach-makers , She drinkes this while . here in Smithfield , to anoynt wheeles and axell trees with .

VRS.

I , I , Gamesters , mocke a plaine plumpe soft wench o' the Suburbs , doe , because she 's iuicy and wholesome : you must ha' your thinne pinch'd ware , pent vp i' the compasse of a dogge-collar , ( or 't will not do ) that lookes like a long lac'd Conger , set vpright , and a greene feather , like fennell i' the Ioll on 't .

KNO.

Well said Vrs , my good Vrs ; to 'hem Vrs.

QVAR.

Is shee your quagmire , Dan: Knockhum ? is this your Bogge ?

NIG.

We shall haue a quarrel presently .

KNO.

How ? Bog ? Quagmire ? foule vapours ! hum'h !

QVAR.

Yes , hee that would venture for 't , I assure him , might sinke into her , and be drown'd a weeke , ere any friend hee had , could find where he were .

WIN.

And then he would be a fort ' night weighing vp againe .

QVAR.

'T were like falling into a whole Shire of butter : they had need be a teeme of Dutchmen , should draw him out .

KNO.

Answer 'hem , Vrs , where 's thy Bartholmew-wit , now ? Vrs , thy Bartholmew-wit ?

VRS.

Hang 'hem , rotten , roguy Cheaters , I hope to see 'hem plagu'd one day ( pox'd they are already , I am sure ) with leane play-house poultry , that has the boany rumpe , sticking out like the Ace of Spades , or the point of a Partizan , that euery rib of hem is like the tooth of a Saw : and will so grate 'hem with their hips , & shoulders , as ( take 'hem altogether ) they were as good lye with a hurdle .

QVAR.

Out vpon her , how she drips ! she 's able to giue a man the sweating Sicknesse , with looking on her .

VRS.

Mary looke off , with a patch o' your face ; and a dosen i' your breech , though they be o 'scarlet , Sir . I ha' seene as fine outsides , as either o' yours , bring lowsie linings to the Brokers , ere now , twice a weeke ?

QVAR.

Doe you thinke there may be a fine new Cuckingstoole i' the Fayre , to be purchas'd ? one large inough , I meane . I know there is a pond of capacity , for her .

VRS.

For your mother , you Rascall , out you Rogue , you hedge bird , you Pimpe , you pannier-mans bastard , you .

QVAR.

Ha , ha , ha .

VRS.

Doe you sneerc , you dogs-head , you Trendle tayle ! you looke as you were begotten a'top of a Cart in haruest-time , when the whelp was hot and eager . Go , snuffe after your brothers bitch , Mrs Commodity , that 's the Liuory you weare , 't will be out at the elbows , shortly . It 's time you went to 't , for the to'ther remnant .

KNO.

Peace , Vrs , peace , Vrs , they 'll kill the poore Whale , and make oyle of her . Pray thee goe in .

VRS.

I 'le see 'hem pox'd first , and pil'd , and double pil'd .

WIN.

Let 's away , her language growes greasier then her Pigs .

VRS.

Dos't so , snotty nose ? good Lord ! are you sniueling ? you were engendred on a she-begger , in a barne , when the bald Thrasher , your Sire , was scarce warme .

WIN.

Pray thee , let 's goe .

QVAR.

No , faith : I 'le stay the end of her , now : I know shee cannot last long ; I finde by her similes , shee wanes a pace .

VRS.

Do's shee so ? I 'le set you gone . Gi' mee my Pig-pan hither a little . I 'le scald you hence , and you will not goe .

KNO.

Gentlemen , these are very strange vapours ! and very idle vapours ! I assure you .

QVAR.

You are a very serious asse , wee assure you .

KNO.

Humh ! Asse ? and serious ? nay , then pardon mee my vapour . I haue a foolish vapour , Gentlemen : any man that doe's vapour me , the Asse , Master Quarlous —

QVAR.

What then , Master Iordan ?

KNO.

I doe vapour him the lye .

QVAR.

Faith , and to any man that vapours mee the lie , I doe vapour that .

KNO.

Nay , then , vapours vpon vapours .

EDG. NIG.

‛ Ware the pan , the pan , the pan , Vrsla comes in , with the scalding-pan . They fight . Shee falls with it . shee comes with the pan , Gentlemen . God blesse the woman .

VRS.

Oh.

ERA.

What 's the matter ?

IVS.

Goodly woman !

MOO.

Mistresse !

VRS.

Curse of hell , that euer I saw these Feinds , oh ! I ha' scalded my leg , my leg , my leg , my leg . I ha' lost a limb in the seruice ! run for some creame and sallad oyle , quickly . Are you vnder-peering , you Baboun ? rip off my hose , an' you be men , men , men .

MOO.

Runne you for some creame , good mother Ione . I 'le looke to your basket .

LEA.

Best sit vp i' your chaire , Vrsla . Helpe , Gentlemen .

KNO.

Be of good cheere , Vrs , thou hast hindred me the currying of a couple of Stallions , here , that abus'd the good race - Bawd o' Smithfield ; 't was time for 'hem to goe .

NIG.

I faith , when the panne came , they had made you runne else . ( this had beene a fine time for purchase , if you had ventur'd . )

EDG.

Not a whit , these fellowes were too fine to carry money .

KNO.

Nightingale , get some helpe to carry her legge out o' the ayre ; take off her shooes ; body o' me , she has the Mallanders , the scratches , the crowne scabbe , and the quitter bone , i' the tother legge .

VRS.

Oh! the poxe , why doe you put me in minde o' my leg , thus , to make it prick , and shoot ? would you ha' me i' the Hospitall , afore my time ?

KNO.

Patience , Vrs , take a good heart , 't is but a blister , as big as a Windgall ; I 'le take it away with the white of an egge , a little honey , and hogs grease , ha' thy pasternes well rol'd , and thou shall 't pase againe by to morrow . I 'le tend thy Booth , and looke to thy affaires , the while : thou shalt sit i' thy chaire , and giue directions , and shine Vrsa maior .

ACT. II. SCENE . VI. IVSTICE . EDGEWORTH . NIGHTINGALE . COKES . WASPE. Mistris OVERDOO . GRACE .

THese are the fruites of bottle-ale , and tabacco ! the fome of the one , and the fumes of the other ! Stay young man , and despise not the wisedome of these few hayres , that are growne gray in care of thee .

EDG.

Nightingale , stay a little . Indeede I 'le heare some o' this !

COK.

Come , Numps , come , where are you ? welcome into the Fayre , Mistris Grace .

EDG.

S'light , hee will call company , you shall see , and put vs into doings presently .

IVS.

Thirst not after that frothy liquor , Ale : for , who knowes , when hee openeth the stopple , what may be in the bottle ? hath not a Snaile , a Spider , yea , a Neuft bin found there ? thirst not after it , youth : thirst not after it .

COK.

This is a braue fellow , Numps , let 's heare him .

WAS.

S'blood , how braue is he ? in a garded coate ? you were best trucke with him , e'en strip , and trucke presently , it will become you , why will you heare him , because he is an Asse , and may be a kinnne to the Cokeses ?

COK.

O , good Numps !

IVS.

Neither doe thou lust after that tawney weede , tabacco .

COK.

Braue words !

IVS.

Whose complexion is like the Indians that vents it !

COK.

Are they not braue words , Sister ?

IVS.

And who can tell , if , before the gathering , and making vp thereof , the Alligarta hath not piss'd thereon ?

WAS.

‛ Heart let 'hem be braue words , as braue as they will ! and they were all the braue words in a Countrey , how then ? will you away yet ? ha' you inough on him ? Mistris Grace , come you away , I pray you , be not you accessary . If you doe lose your Licence , or somewhat else , Sir , with listning to his fables : say , Numps , is a witch , with all my heart , doe , say so .

COK.

Avoyd i' your sattin doublet , Numps .

IVS.

The creeping venome of which subtill serpent , as some late writers affirme ; neither the cutting of the perrillous plant , nor the drying of it , nor the lighting , or burning , can any way perssway or , asswage .

COK.

Good , i'faith ! is 't not Sister ?

IVS.

Hence it is , that the lungs of the Tabacconist are rotted , the Liuer spotted , the braine smoak'd like the backside of the Pig-womans Booth , here , and the whole body within , blacke , as her Pan , you saw e'en now , without .

COK.

A fine similitude , that , Sir ! did you see the panne ?

EDG.

Yes , Sir .

IVS.

Nay , the hole in the nose heere , of some tabacco-takers , or the third nostrill , ( if I may so call it ) which makes , that they can vent the tabacco out , like the Ace of clubs , or rather the Flower-de-lice , is caused from the tabacco , the meere tabacco ! when the poore innocent pox , hauing nothing to doe there , is miserably , and most vnconscionably slander'd .

COK.

Who would ha' mist this , Sister ?

OVER.

Not any body , but Numps .

COK.

He do's not vnderstand .

EDG.

Nor you feele .

COK.

What would you haue , Sister , Hee picketh his purse . of a fellow that knowes nothing but a basket-hilt , and an old Fox in 't ? the best musique i' the Fayre , will not moue a logge .

EDG.

In , to Vrsla , Nightingale , and carry her comfort : see it told . This fellow was sent to vs by fortune , for our first fairing .

IVS.

But what speake I of the diseases of the body , children of the Fayre ?

COK.

That 's to vs , Sister . Braue i'faith !

IVS.

Harke , O , you sonnes and daughters of Smithfield ! and heare what mallady it doth the minde : It causeth swearing , it causeth swaggering , it causeth snuffling , and snarling , and now and then a hurt .

OVE.

He hath something of Master Ouerdoo , mee thinkes , brother .

COK.

So mee thought , Sister , very much of my brother Ouerdoo : And 't is , when he speakes .

IVS.

Looke into any Angle o' the towne , ( the Streights , or the Bermuda's ) where the quarrelling lesson is read , and how doe they entertaine the time , but with bottle-ale , and tabacco ? The Lecturer is o 'one side , and his Pupils o' the other ; But the seconds are still bottle-ale , and tabacco , for which the Lecturer reads , and the Nouices pay . Thirty pound a weeke in bottle-ale ! forty in tabacco ! and ten more in Ale againe . Then for a sute to drinke in , so much , and ( that being slauer'd ) so much for another sute , and then a third sute , and a fourth sute ! and still the bottle-ale slauereth , and the tabacco stinketh !

WAS.

Heart of a mad-man ! are you rooted heere ? well you neuer away ? what can any man finde out in this bawling fellow , to grow heere for ? hee is a full handfull higher , sin 'he heard him , will you fix heere ? and set vp a Booth ? Sir ?

IVS.

I will conclude briefely —

WAS.

Hold your peace , you roaring Rascall , I 'le runne my head i' your chaps else . You were best build a Booth , and entertaine him , make your Will , and you say the word , and him your heyre ! heart , I neuer knew one taken with a mouth of a pecke , afore . He gets him vp on pick-packe . By this light , I 'le carry you away o' my backe , and you will not come .

COK.

Stay Numpes , stay , set mee downe : I ha' lost my purse , Numps , O my purse ! one o' my fine purses is gone .

OVER.

Is' t indeed , brother ?

COK.

I , as I am an honest man , would I were an errant Rogue , else ! a plague of all roguy , damn'd cut-purses for me .

WAS.

Blesse 'hem with all my heart , with all my heart , do you see ! Now , as I am no Infidell , that I know of , I am glad on 't . I I am , ( here 's my witnesse ! ) doe you see , Sir ? I did not tell you of his fables , I ? no , no , I am a dull malt-horse , I , I know nothing . Are you not iustly seru'd i' your conscience now ? speake i' your conscience . Much good doe you with all my heart , and his good heart that has it , with all my heart againe .

EDG.

This fellow is very charitable , would he had a purse too ! but , I must not be too bold , all at a time .

COK.

Nay , Numps , it is not my best purse .

WAS.

Not your best ! death ! why should it be your worst ? why should it be any , indeed , at all ? answer me to that , gi' mee a reason from you , why it should be any ?

COK.

Nor my gold , Numps ; I ha' that yet , looke heere else , Sister .

WAS.

Why so , there 's all the feeling he has !

OVER.

I pray you , haue a better care of that , brother .

COK.

Nay , so I will , I warrant you ; let him catch this , that catch can . I would faine see him get this , looke you heere .

WAS.

So , so , so , so , so , so , so , so ! Very good .

COK.

I would ha' him come againe , now , and but offer at it . Sister , will you take notice of a good iest ? I will put it iust where th' other was , and if we ha' good lucke , you shall see a delicate fine trap to catch the cutpurse , nibling .

EDG.

Faith , and he 'll trye ere you be out o' the Fayre .

COK.

Come , Mistresse Grace , pre'thee be not melancholy for my mis-chance ; sorrow wi'not keepe it , Sweet heart .

GRA.

I doe not thinke on 't , Sir .

COOK .

'T was but a little scuruy white money , hang it : it may hang the cutpurse , one day . I ha' gold left to gi' thee a fayring , yet , as hard as the world goes : nothing angers me , but that no body heere , look'd like a cutpurse , vnlesse 't were Numps .

WAS

How ? I ? I looke like a cutpurse ? death ! your Sister 's a cutpurse ! and your mother and father , and all your kinne were cutpurses ! And here is a Rogue is the baud o' the cutpurses , whom I will beat to begin with .

COK.

Numps , Numps .

OVER.

Good Mr Humphrey .

WAS.

You are the Patrico ! are you ? the Patriarch of the cutpurses ? you share , Sir , they say , let them share , this with you . Are you i' your hot fit of preaching again ? I 'le coole you .

IVS.

Hold thy hand , childe of wrath , and heyre of anger , They speake all together : and Waspe beats the Iustice . make it not Childermasse day in thy fury , or the feast of the French Bartholmew , Parent of the of the Massacre .

IVS.

Murther , murther , murther .

ACT. III. SCENE . I. WHIT. HAGGISE . BRISTLE . LEATHERHEAD . TRASH .

NAy , t ish all gone , now ! dish t ish , phen tou vilt not be phitin call , Master Offisher , phat ish a man te better to lishen out noyshes for tee , & tou art in an oder 'orld , being very shuffishient noyshes and gallantsh too , one o' their brabblesh woud haue fed vsh all dish fortnight , but tou art so bushy about beggersh stil , tou hast no leshure to intend shentlemen , and 't be .

HAG.

Why , I told you , Dauy Bristle .

BRI.

Come , come , you told mee a pudding , Toby Haggise ; A matter of nothing ; I am sure it came to nothing ! you said , let 's goe to Vrsla's , indeede ; but then you met the man with the monsters , and I could not get you from him . An old foole , not leaue seeing yet ?

HAG.

Why , who would ha' thought any body would ha' quarrell'd so earely ? or that the ale o' the . Fayre would ha' beene vp so soone .

WHI.

Phy ? phat a clocke toest tou tinke it ish , man ?

HAG.

I cannot tell .

WHI.

Tou art a vishe vatchman , i' te meane teeme .

HAG.

Why ? should the watch goe by the clocke , or the clock by the watch , I pray ?

BRI.

One should goe by another , if they did well .

WHI.

Tou art right now ! phen didst tou euer know , or heare of a shuffishient vatchman , but he did tell the clocke , phat bushinesse soeuer he had ?

BRI.

Nay , that 's most true , a sufficient watchman knowes what a clocke it is .

WHI.

Shleeping , or vaking ! ash well as te clocke himshelfe , or te lack dat shtrikes him !

BRI.

Let 's enquire of Master Leatherhead , or Ione Trash heere . Master Leatherhead , doe you heare , Master Leatherhead ?

WHI.

If it be a Ledderhead , t ish a very tick Ledderhead , tat sho mush noish vill not peirsh him .

LEA.

I haue a little businesse now , good friends doe not trouble me .

WHI.

Phat ? because o 'ty wrought neet cap , and ty pheluet sherkin , Man ? phy ? I haue sheene tee in ty Ledder sherkin , ere now , Mashter o 'de hobby-Horses , as bushy and as stately as tou sheem'st to be .

TRA.

Why , what an' you haue , Captaine Whit ? hee has his choyce of Ierkins , you may see by that , and his caps too , I assure you , when hee pleases to be either sicke , or imploy'd .

LEA.

God a mercy Ione , answer for me .

WHI.

Away , be not sheen i' my company , here be shentlemen , and men of vorship .

ACT. III. SCENE . II. QVARLOVS . WHIT. WIN-WIFE . BVSY. IOHN . PVRE-CRAFT . WIN. KNOK-HVM . MOON-CALFE . VRSLA.

WEe had wonderfull ill lucke , to misse this prologue o' the purse , but the best is , we shall haue fiue Acts of him ere night : hee 'le be spectacle enough ! I 'le answer for 't .

WHI.

O Creesh ! Duke Quarlous , how dosht tou ? tou dosht not know me , I feare ? I am te vishesht man , but Iustish Ouerdoo , in all Bartholmew Fayre , now . Gi' me tweluepence from tee , I vill help tee to a vife vorth forty marks for 't , and 't be .

QVAR.

Away , Rogue , Pimpe away .

WHI.

And shee shall shew tee as fine cut o'rke fort 't in her shmock too , as tou cansht vishe i'faith ; vilt tou haue her , vorshipfull Vin vife ? I vill helpe tee to her , heere , be an 't be , in te pig-quarter , gi' me ty twelpence from tee ,

WIN-W.

Why , there 's twelpence , pray thee wilt thou be gone .

WHI ,

Tou art a vorthy man , and a vorshipfull man still .

QVAR.

Get you gone , Rascall .

WHI.

I doe meane it , man . Prinsh Quarlous if tou hasht need on me , tou shalt finde me heere , at Vrsla's , I vill see phat ale , and punque ish i' te pig shty , for tee , blesse ty good vorship .

QVAR.

Looke ! who comes heere ! Iohn Little-wit !

WIN-W.

And his wife , and my widdow , her mother : the whole family .

QVAR.

'Slight , you must gi 'hem all fairings , now !

WIN-W.

Not I , I 'le not see 'hem ,

QVAR.

They are going a feasting . What Schole-master 's that is with 'hem ?

WIN-W.

That 's my Riuall , I beleeue , the Baker !

BVS.

So , walke on in the middle way , fore-right , turne neyther to the right hand , nor to the left : let not your eyes be drawne aside with vanity , nor your eare with noyses .

QVAR.

O , I know him by that start !

LEA.

What do you lack ? what do you buy , pretty Mistris ! a fine Hobby-Horse , to make your sonne a Tilter ? a Drum to make him a Souldier ? a Fiddle , to make him a Reueller ? What is 't you lack ? Little Dogs for your Daughters ! or Babies , male , or female ?

BVS.

Look not toward them , harken not : the place is Smithfield , or the field of Smiths , the Groue of Hobbi-horses and trinkets , the wares are the wares of diuels . And the whole Fayre is the shop of Satan ! They are hooks , and baites , very baites , that are hung out on euery side , to catch you , and to hold you as it were , by the gills ; and by the nostrills , as the Fisher doth : therefore , you must not looke , nor turne toward them — The Heathen man could stop his eares with wax , against the harlot o' the sea : Doe you the like , with your fingers against the bells of the Beast .

WIN-W.

What flashes comes from him !

QVAR.

O , he has those of his ouen ! a notable hot Baker 't was , when hee ply'd the peele : hee is leading his flocke into the Fayre , now .

WIN-W.

Rather driuing 'hem to the Pens : for he will let 'hem looke vpon nothing .

KNO.

Gentlewomen , the weather 's hot ! whither walke you ? Haue a care o' your fine veluet caps , Little-wit is gazing at the signe ; which is the Pigs-head with a large writing vnder it . the Fayre is dusty . Take a sweet delicate Booth , with boughs , here , i' the way , and coole your selues i' the shade : you and your friends . The best pig and bottle-ale i' the Fayre , Sir . Old Vrsla is Cooke , there you may read : the pigges head speakes it . Poore soule , shee has had a Sringhalt , the Maryhinchco : but shee 's prettily amended .

WHI.

A delicate show-pig , little Mistris , with shweet sauce , and crackling , like de bay-leafe i 'de fire , la ! Tou shalt ha' de cleane side o 'de table-clot and di glass vash'd with phatersh of Dame Annessh Cleare .

IOH.

This 's sine , verily , here be the best pigs : and shee doe's roast 'hem as well as euer she did ; the Pigs head sayes .

KNO.

Excellent , excellent , Mistris , with fire o' Iuniper and Rose-mary branches ! The Oracle of the Pigs head , that , Sir .

PVR.

Sonne , were you not warn'd of the vanity of the eye ? haue you forgot the wholesome admonition , so soone ?

IOH.

Good mother , how shall we finde a pigge , if we doe not looke about for 't ? will it run off o' the spit , into our mouths thinke you ? as in Lubberland ? and cry , we , we ?

BVS.

No , but your mother , religiously wise , conceiueth it may offer it selfe , by other meanes , to the sense , as by way of steeme , which I thinke it doth , Busy sents after it like a Hound . here in this place ( Huh , huh ) yes , it doth . and it were a sinne of obstinacy , great obstinacy , high and horrible obstinacy , to decline , or resist the good titillation of the famelick sense , which is the smell . Therefore be bold ( huh , huh , huh ) follow the sent . Enter the Tents of the vncleane , for once , and satisfie your wiues frailty . Let your fraile wife be satisfied : your zealous mother , and my suffering selfe , will also be satisfied .

IOH.

Come , Win , as good winny here , as goe farther , and see nothing .

BVS.

Wee scape so much of the other vanities , by our earely entring .

PVR.

It is an aedifying consideration .

WIN.

This is scuruy , that wee must come into the Fayre , and not looke on 't .

IOH.

Win , haue patience , Win , I 'le tell you more anon .

KNO.

Moone-calfe ; entertaine within there , the best pig i' the Booth ; a Porklike pig . These are Banbury-bloods , o' the sincere stud , come a pigge-hunting . Whit , wait Whit , looke to your charge .

BVS.

A pigge prepare , presently , let a pigge be prepared to vs.

MOO.

S'light , who be these ?

VRS.

Is this the good seruice , Iordan , you 'ld doe me ?

KNO.

Why , Vrs ? why , Vrs ? thou 'lt ha' vapours i' thy legge againe presently , pray thee go in , 't may turne to the scratches else .

VRS.

Hang your vapours , they are stale , and stinke like you , are these the guests o' the game , you promis'd to fill my pit withall , to day ?

KNO.

I● what aile they Vrs ?

VRS.

Aile they ? they are all sippers , sippers o' the City , they looke as they would not drinke off two penn'orth of bottle-ale amongst 'hem .

MOO.

A body may read that i' their small printed ruffes .

KNO.

Away , thou art a foole , Vrs , and thy Moone-calfe too , i' your ignorant vapours , now ? hence , good guests , I say right hypocrites , good gluttons . In , and set a couple o 'pigs o' the board , and halfe a dozen of the biggest bottles afore 'hem , and call Whit , I doe not loue to heare Innocents abus'd : Fine ambling hypocrites ! and a stone-puritane , with a sorrell head , and beard , good mouth'd gluttons : two to a pigge , away .

VRS.

Are you sure they are such ?

KNO.

O' the right breed , thou shalt try 'hem by the teeth , Vrs , where 's this Whit ?

WHI. Behold , man and see , what a worthy man am ee ! With the fury of my sword , and the shaking of my beard , I will make ten thousand men afeard . KNO.

Well said , braue Whit , in , and feare the ale out o' the bottles , into the bellies of the brethren , and the sisters drinke to the cause , and pure vapours .

QVAR.

My Roarer is turn'd Tapster , mee thinks . Now were a fine time for thee , Win-wife , to lay aboard thy widdow , thou 'lt neuer be Master of a better season , or place ; shee that will venture her selfe into the Fayre , and a pig-boxe , will admit any assault , be assur'd of that .

WIN.

I loue not enterprises of that suddennesse , though .

QVAR.

I 'le warrant thee , then , no wife out o' the widdowes Hundred : if I had but as much Title to her , as to haue breath'd once on that streight stomacher of hers , I would now assure my felfe to carrry her , yet , ere shewent out of Smithfield . Or she should carry me , which were the fitter sight , I confesse . But you are a modest vndertaker , by circumstances , and degrees ; come , 't is Disease in thee , not Iudgement , I should offer at all together . Looke , here 's the poore foole , againe , that was stung by the waspe , ere while .

ACT. III. SCENE . III. IVSTICE . WIN-WIFE . QVARLOVS .

I will make no more orations , shall draw on these tragicall conclusions . And I begin now to thinke , that by a spice of collaterall Iustice , Adam Ouerdoo , deseru'd this beating ; for I the said Adam , was one cause ( a by-cause ) why the purse was lost : and my wiues brothers purse too , which they know not of yet . But I shall make very good mirth with it , at supper , ( that will be the sport ) and put my little friend , Mr Humphrey Wasp's choler quite out of countenance . When , sitting at the vpper end o' my Table , as I vse , & drinking to my brother Cokes , and Mrs. Alice Ouerdoo , as I wil , my wife , for their good affection to old Bradley , I deliuer to 'hem , it was I , that was cudgell'd , and shew 'hem the marks . To see what bad euents may peepe out o' the taile of good purposes ! the care I had of that ciuil yong man , I tooke fancy to this morning , ( and haue not left it yet ) drew me to that exhortation , which drew the company , indeeede , which drew the cut-purse ; which drew the money ; which drew my brother Cokes his losse ; which drew on Wasp's anger ; which drew on my beating : a pretty gradation ! And they shall ha' it i' their dish , i'faith , at night for fruit : I loue to be merry at my Table . I had thought once , at one speciall blow he ga' me , to haue reuealed my selfe ? but then ( I thank thee fortitude ) I remembred that a wise man ( and who is euer so great a part , o' the Common-wealth in himselfe ) for no particular disaster ought to abandon a publike good designe . The husbandman ought not for one vnthankful yeer , to forsake the plough ; The Shepheard ought not , for one scabb'd sheep , to throw by his tar-boxe ; The Pilot ought not for one leake i' the poope , to quit the Helme ; Nor the Alderman ought not for one custerd more , at a meale , to giue vp his cloake ; The Constable ought not to breake his staffe , and forsweare the watch , for one roaring night ; Nor the Piper o' the Parish ( Vt paruis componere magna solebam ) to put vp his pipes , for one rainy Sunday . These are certaine knocking conclusions ; out of which , I am resolu'd , come what come can , come beating , come imprisonment , come infamy , come banishment , nay , come the rack , come the hurdle , ( welcome all ) I will not discouer who I am , till my due time ; and yet still , all shall be , as I said euer , in Iustice name , and the King 's , and for the Common-wealth .

WIN.

What doe's he talke to himselfe , and act so seriously ? poore foole !

QVAR.

No matter what . Here 's fresher argument , intend that .

ACT. III. SCENE . IIIJ. COKES . LEATHERHEAD . WASPE . Mistresse OVER DOO . WIN-WIFE . QVARLOVS . TRASH . GRACE .

COme , Mistresse Grace , come Sister , heere 's more fine sights , yet i'faith . Gods'lid where 's Numps ?

LEA.

What doe you lacke , Gentlemen ? what is 't you buy ? fine Rattles ! Drummes ? Babies ? little Dogges ? and Birds for Ladies ? What doe you lacke ?

COK.

Good honest Numpes , keepe afore , I am so afraid thou 'lt lose somewhat : my heart was at my mouth , when I mist thee .

WAS.

You were best buy a whip i' your hand to driue me .

COK.

Nay , doe not mistake , Numps , thou art so apt to mistake : I would but watch the goods . Looke you now , the treble fiddle , was e'en almost like to be lost .

WAS.

Pray you take heede you lose not your selfe : your best way , were e'en get vp , and ride for more surety . Buy a tokens worth of great pinnes , to fasten your selfe to my shoulder .

LEA.

What doe you lacke , Gentlemen ? fine purses , pouches , pincases , pipes ? What is 't you lacke ? a paire o 'smithes to wake you i' the morning ? or a fine whistling bird ?

COK.

Numps , here be finer things then any we ha' bought by oddes ! and more delicate horses , a great deale ! good Numpes , stay , and come hither .

WAS.

Will you scourse with him ? you are in Smithfield , you may fit your selfe with a fine easy-going street-nag , for your saddle again ' Michaelmasse-terme , doe , has he ne'er a little odde cart for you , to make a Carroch on , i' the countrey , with foure pyed hobby horses ? why the meazills , should you stand heere , with your traine , cheaping of Dogges , Birds , and Babies ? you ha' no children to bestow 'hem on ? ha' you ?

COK.

No , but again ' I ha' children , Numps , that 's all one .

WAS.

Do , do , do , do ; how many shall you haue , think you ? an' I were as you , I 'ld buy for all my Tenants , too , they are a kind o'ciuill Sauages , that wil part with their children for rattles , pipes , and kniues . You were best buy a hatchet , or two , & truck with 'hem .

COK.

Good Numps , hold that little tongue o' thine , and faue it a labour . I am resolute Bat , thou know'ft .

WAS.

A resolute foole , you are , I know , and a very sufficient Coxcombe ; with all my heart ; nay you haue it , Sir , and you be angry , turd i' your teeth , twice : ( if I said it not once afore ) and much good doe you .

WIN.

Was there euer such a selfe-affliction ? and so impertinent ?

QVAR.

Alas ! his care will goe neere to cracke him , let 's in , and comfort him .

WAS.

Would I had beene set i' the ground , all but the head on me , and had my braines bowl'd at , or thresh'd out , when first I vnderwent this plague of a charge !

QVAR.

How now , Numps ! almost tir'd i' your Protectorship ? ouerparted ? ouerparted ?

WAS.

Why , I cannot tell , Sir , it may be I am , dos't grieue you ?

QVAR.

No , I sweare dos't not , Numps : to satisfie you .

WAS.

Numps ? S'blood , you are fine and familiar ! how long ha' wee bin acquainted , I pray you ?

QVAR.

I thinke it may be remembred , Numps , that ? 't was since morning sure .

WAS.

Why , I hope I know 't well enough , Sir , I did not aske to be told .

QVAR.

No ? why then ?

WAS.

It 's no matter why , you see with your eyes , now , what I said to you to day ? you 'll beleeue me another time ?

QVAR.

Are you remouing the Fayre , Numps ?

WAS.

A pretty question ! and a very ciuill one ! yes faith , I ha' my lading you see ; or shall haue anon , you may know whose beast I am , by my burthen . If the pannier-mans Iacke were euer better knowne by his loynes of mutton , I 'le be flead , and feede dogs for him , when his time comes .

WIN.

How melancholi' Mistresse Grace is yonder ! pray thee let 's goe enter our selues in Grace , with her .

COK.

Those sixe horses , friend I 'le haue —

WAS.

How !

COK.

And the three Iewes trumps ; and halfe a dozen o' Birds , and that Drum , ( I haue one Drumme already ) and your Smiths ; I like that deuice o' your smiths , very pretty well , and foure Halberts — and ( le' me see ) that fine painted great Lady , and her three women for state , I 'le haue .

WAS.

No , the shop ; buy the whole shop , it will be best , the shop , the shop !

LEA.

If his worship please .

WAS.

Yes , and keepe it during the Fayre , Bobchin .

COK.

Peace , Numps , friend , doe not meddle with him , an' you be wise , and would shew your head aboue board : hee will sting thorow your wrought night-cap , beleeue me . A set of these Violines , I would buy too , for a delicate young noise I haue i' the countrey , that are euery one a size lesse then another , iust like your fiddles . I would faine haue a fine young Masque at my marriage , now I thinke on 't : but I doe want such a number o 'things . And Numps will not helpe me now , and I dare not speake to him .

TRA.

Will your worship buy any ginger-bread , very good bread , comfortable bread ?

COK.

Ginger-bread ! yes , let 's see . He runnes to her shop .

WAS.

There 's the tother sprindge ?

LEA.

Is this well , goody Ione ? to interrupt my market ? in the midst ? and call away my customers ? can you answer this , at the Piepouldres ?

TRA.

Why ? if his Master-ship haue a minde to buy , I hope my ware lies as open as another's ; I may shew my ware , as well as you yours .

COK.

Hold your peace ; I 'le content you both : I 'le buy vp his shop , and thy basket .

WAS.

Will you i'faith ?

LEA.

Why should you put him from it , friend ?

WAS.

Cry you mercy ! you 'ld be sold too , would you ? what 's the price on you ? Ierkin , and all as you stand ? ha' you any qualities ?

TRA.

Yes , good-man angry-man , you shall finde he has qualities , if you cheapen him .

WAS.

Gods so , you ha' the selling of him ! what are they ? will they be bought for loue , or money ?

TRA.

No indeed , Sir .

WAS.

For what then ? victualls ?

TRA.

He scornes victuals , Sir , he has bread and butter at home , thanks be to God! and yet he will do more for a good meale , if the toy take him i' the belly , mary then they must not set him at lower end ; if they do , he 'll goe away , though he fast . But put him a top o' the Table , where his place is , and hee 'll doe you forty fine things . Hee has not been sent for , and sought out for nothing , at your great citty-suppers , to put downe Coriat , and Cokeley , and bin laught at for his labour ; he 'll play you all the Puppets i' the towne ouer , and the Players , euery company , and his owne company too ; he spares no body !

COK.

I'faith ?

TRA.

Hee was the first , Sir , that euer baited the fellow i' the beare's skin , an 't like your worship : no dog euer came neer him , since . And for fine motions !

COK.

Is hee good at those too ? can hee set out a Masque trow ?

TRA.

O Lord , Master ! sought to farre , and neere , for his inuentions : and hee engrosses all , hee makes all the Puppets i' the Fayre .

COK.

Do'st thou ( in noth ) old veluet Ierkin ? giue mee thy hand .

TRA.

Nay , Sir , you shall see him in his veluet Ierkin , and a scarfe , too , at night , when you heare him interpret Master Little-wit's Motion .

COK.

Speake no more , but shut vp shop presently , friend . I 'le buy both it , and thee too , to carry downe with me , and her hamper , beside . Thy shop shall furnish out the Masque , and hers the Banquet : I cannot goe lesse , to set out any thing with credit . what 's the price , at a word , o' thy whole shop , case , and all as it stands ?

LEA.

Sir , it stands me in sixe and twenty shillings seuen pence , halfe-peny , besides three shillings for my ground .

COK.

Well , thirty shillings will doe all , then ! And what comes yours too ?

TRA.

Foure shillings , and eleauen pence , Sir , ground , and all , an 't like your worship .

COK.

Yes , it do's like my worship very well , poore woman , that 's fiue shillings more , what a Masque shall I furnish out , for forty shillings ? ( twenty pound scotsh ) and a Banquet of Ginger-bread ? there 's a stately thing ! Numps ? Sister ? and my wedding gloues too ? ( that I neuer thought on afore . ) All my wedding gloues , Ginger-bread ? O me ! what a deuice will there be ? to make 'hem eate their fingers ends ! and delicate Brooches for the Bride-men ! and all ! and then I 'le ha' this poesie put to 'hem : For the best grace , meaning Mistresse Grace , my wedding poesie .

GRA.

I am beholden to you , Sir , and to your Bartholmew-wit .

WAS.

You doe not meane this , doe you ? is this your first purchase ?

COK.

Yes faith , and I doe not thinke , Numpes , but thou 'lt say , it was the wisest Act , that euer I did in my wardship .

WAS.

Like inough ! I shall say any thing , I !

ACT. III. SCENE . V. IVSTICE . EDGWORTH . NIGHTINGALE .

I Cannot beget a Proiect , with all my politicall braine , yet ; my Proiect is how to fetch off this proper young man , from his debaucht company : I haue followed him all the Fayre ouer , and still I finde him with this songster : And I begin shrewdly to suspect their familiarity ; and the young man of a terrible taint , Poetry ! ●●ith which idle disease , if he be infected , there 's no hope of him , in a state-course . Actum est , of him for a common-wealths-man : if hee goe to 't in Rime , once .

EDG.

Yonder he is buying o' Ginger-bread : set in quickly , before he part with too much on his money .

NIG.

My masters and friends , and good people , draw neere , &c.

COK.

Ballads ! harke , harke ! pray thee , fellow , stay a little , He ruun's to the Ballad man . good Numpes , looke to the goods . What Ballads hast thou ? let me see , let me see my selfe .

WAS.

Why so ! hee 's flowne'to another lime-bush , there he will flutter as long more ; till hee ha' ne'r a feather left . Is there a vexation like this , Gentlemen ? will you beleeue mee now , hereafter ? shall I haue credit with you ?

QVAR.

Yes faith , shalt thou , Numps , and thou art worthy on 't , for thou sweatest for 't . I neuer saw a young Pimpe errant , and his Squire better match'd .

WIN-W.

Faith , the sister comes after 'hem , well , too .

GRA.

Nay , if you saw the Iustice her husband , my Guardian , you were fitted for the Messe , hee is such a wise one his way —

WIN-W.

I wonder , wee see him not heere .

GRA.

O! hee is too serious for this place , and yet better sport then then the other three , I assure you , Gentlemen : where ere he is , though 't be o' the Bench.

COK.

How dost thou call it ! A caueat against cutpurses ! a good iest , i'faith , I would faine see that Daemon , your Cutpurse , He show's his purse boastingly . you talke of , that delicate handed Diuell ; they say he walkes hereabout ; I would see him walke , now . Looke you sister , here , here , let him come , sister , and welcome . Ballad-man , do's any cutpurses haunt hereabout ? pray thee raise me one or two : beginne and shew me one .

NIG.

Sir , this is a spell against 'hem , spicke and span new ; and 't is made as 't were in mine owne person , and I sing it in mine owne defence . But 't will cost a penny alone , if you buy it .

COK.

No matter for the price , thou dost not know me , I see , I am an odd Bartholmew .

OVE.

Ha'st a fine picture , Brother ?

COK.

O Sister , doe you remember the ballads ouer the Nursery-chimney at home o' my owne pasting vp , there be braue pictures . Other manner of pictures , than these , friend .

WAS.

Yet these will serue to picke the pictures out o' your pockets , you shall see .

COK.

So , I heard 'hem say . Pray thee-mind him not , fellow : hee 'll haue an oare in euery thing .

NIG.

It was intended Sir , as if a purse should chance to be cut in my presence , now , I may be blamelesse , though : as by the sequell , will more plainely appeare .

COK.

We shall find that i' the matter . Pray thee begin .

NIG.

To the tune of Paggingtons Pound , Sir .

COK.

Fa , la la la , la la la , fa la la la. Nay , I 'll put thee in tune , and all ! mine owne country dance ! Pray thee begin .

NIG.

It is a gentle admonition , you must know , Sir , both to the purse-cutter , and the purse-bearer .

COK.

Not a word more , out o' the tune , an' thou lou'st mee : Fa , la la la , la la la , fa la la la. Come , when ?

NIG. My masters and friends , and good people draw neere , And looke to your purses , for that I doe say ; COK.

Ha , ha , this chimes ! good counsell at first dash .

NIG. And though little money , in them you doe beare . It cost more to get , then to lose in a day . You oft haue beene told , Both the young and the old ; And bidden beware of the cutpurse so bold : Then if you take heed not , free me from the curse , Who both giue you warning , for and , the cutpurse . Youth , youth , thou hadst better bin staru'd by thy Nurse , Then liue to be hanged for cutting a purse . COK.

Good !

COK.

Well said ! hee were to blame that wold not i'faith .

COK.

Good i'faith , how say you , Numps ? Is there any harme i'th is ?

NIG. It hath bin vpbrayded to men of my trade , That often times we are the cause of this crime . Alacke and for pitty , why should it be said ? As if they regarded or places , or time . Examples haue been Of some that were seen , In Westminster Hall , yea the pleaders between , Then why should the Iudges be free from this curse , More then my poore selfe , for cutting the purse ? Youth , youth , thou hadst better bin staru'd by thy Nurse , Then liue to be hanged for cutting a purse . COK.

The more coxcōbes they that did it , I wusse .

COK.

God a mercy for that ! why should they be more free indeede ?

COK.

That againe , good Ballad-man , that againe . O rare ! He sings the burden with him . I would faine rubbe mine elbow now , but I dare not pull out my hand . On , I pray thee , hee that made this ballad , shall be Poet to my Masque .

NIG. At Worc'ter'tis knowne well , and euen i' the layle , A Knight of good worship did there shew his face , Against the foule sinners , in zealè for to rayle , And lost ( ipso facto ) his purse in the place . Nay , once from the Seat Of Iudgement so great , A Iudge there did lose a faire pouch of veluete . O Lord for thy mercy , how wicked or worse , Are those that so venture their necks for a purse ! Youth , youth , &c. COK.

Is it possible ?

COK.

I'faith ?

COK.

Youth , youth , & c ? pray thee stay a little , friend , yet o' thy conscience , Numps , speake , is there any harme i'th is ?

WAS.

To tell you true , 't is too good for you , lesse you had grace to follow it .

IVS.

It doth discouer enormitie , I 'le marke it more : I ha' not lik'd a paltry piece of poetry , so well a good while .

COK.

Youth , youth , & c ! where 's this youth , now ? A man must call vpon him , for his owne good , and yet hee will not appeare : looke here , here 's for him ; handy-dandy , Hee shewes his purse . which hand will he haue ? On , I pray thee , with the rest , I doe heare of him , but I cannot see him , this Master Youth , the cutpurse .

NIG. At Playes and at Sermons , and at the Sessions , 'T is daily their practice such booty to make : Yea , vnder the Gallowes , at Executions , They sticke not the Stare-abouts purses to take . Nay one without grace , at a better place , At Court , & in Christmas , before the Kings face , Alacke then for pitty must I beare the curse , That onely belongs to the cunning cutpurse ? COK.

That was a fine fellow ! I would haue him , now .

COK.

But where 's their cunning , now , when they should vse it ? they are all chain'd now , I warrant you . Youth , youth , thou hadst better , &c. The Rat-catchers charme , are all fooles and Asses to this ! A poxe on 'hem , that they will not come ! that a man should haue such a desire to a thing , and want it .

QVAR.

'Fore God , I 'ld giue halfe the Fayre , and 't were mine , for a cutpurse for him , to saue his longing . Hee shewes his purse againe .

COK.

Looke you Sister , heere , heere , where is 't now ? which pocket is 't in ? for a wager ?

WAS.

I beseech you leaue your wagers , and let him end his matter , an 't may be .

COK.

O , are you aedified Numps ?

IVS.

Indeed hee do's interrupt him , too much : There Numps spoke to purpose .

COK.

againe . Sister , I am an Asse , I cannot keepe my purse : on , on ; I pray thee , friend .

NIG. But O , you vile nation of cutpurses all , Relent and repent , Edgworth gets vp to him , and ●i●●es him in the eare with a straw twice to draw his hand out of his pocket . and amend and be sound , And know that you ought not , by honest mens fall , Aduance your owne fortunes , to die aboue ground , And though you goe gay , In silkes as you may , It is not the high way to heauen , ( as they say ) Repent then , repent you , for better , for worse : And kisse not the Gallowes for cutting a purse . Youth , youth , thou hadst better bin steru'd by thy Nurse , Then liue to be hanged for cutting a purse . WIN W.

Will you see sport ? looke , there 's a fellow gathers vp to him , marke .

QVA.

Good , ' i faith some has lighted on the wrong pocket .

WIN W.

He has it , 'fore God hee is a braue fellow ; pitty hee should be detected .

ALL

An excellent ballad ! an excellent ballad !

EDG.

Friend , let mee ha' the first , let mee ha' the first , I pray you .

COK.

Pardon mee , Sir . First come , first seru'd ; and I 'le buy the whole bundle too .

WIN.

That conueyance was better then all , did you see 't ? he has giuen the purse to the ballad-singer .

QVAR.

Has hee ?

EDG.

Sir , I cry you mercy ; I 'le not hinder the poore mans profit : pray you mistake me not .

COK.

Sir , I take you for an honest Gentleman ; if that be mistaking , I met you to day afore : ha ! humh ! O God! my purse is gone , my purse , my purse , &c.

WAS.

Come , doe not make a stirre , and cry your selfe an Asse , thorow the Fayre afore your time .

COK.

Why , hast thou it , Numpes ? good Numpes , how came you by it ? I mar'le !

WAS.

I pray you seeke fome other gamster , to play the foole with : you may lose it time enough , for all your Fayre-wit .

COK.

By this good hand , gloue and all , I ha' lost it already , if thou hast it not : feele else , and Mistris Grace's handkercher , too , out o' the tother pocket .

WAS.

Why , 't is well ; very well , exceeding pretty , and well .

EDG.

Are you sure you ha' lost it , Sir ?

COK.

O God! yes ; as I am an honest man , I had it but e'en now , at youth , youth .

NIG.

I hope you suspect not me , Sir .

EDG.

Thee ? that were a iest indeede ! Dost thou thinke the Gentleman is foolish ? where hadst thou hands , I pray thee ? Away Asse , away .

IVS.

I shall be beaten againe , if I be spi'd .

EDG.

Sir , I suspect an odde fellow , yonder , is stealing away .

OVE.

Brother , it is the preaching fellow ! you shall suspect him . He was at your tother purse , you know ! Nay , stay , Sir , and view the worke you ha' done , an' you be benefic'd at the Gallowes , and preach there , thanke your owne handy-worke .

COK.

Sir , you shall take no pride in your preferment : you shall be silenc'd quickly .

IVS.

What doe you meane ? sweet buds of gentility .

COK.

To ha' my peneworths out on you : Bud. No lesse then two purses a day , serue you ? I thought you a simple fellow , when my man Numpes beate you , i' the morning , and pittied you —

OVE.

So did I , I 'll besworne , brother ; but now I see hee is a lewd , and pernicious Enormity : ( as Master Ouerdoo calls him . )

IVS.

Mine owne words turn'd vpon mee , like swords .

COK.

Cannot a man's purse be at quiet for you , i' the Masters pocket , but you must intice it forth , and debauch it ?

WAS.

Sir , Sir , keepe your debauch , and your fine Bartholmew-termes to your selfe ; and make as much on 'hem as you please . But gi' me this from you , i' the meane time : I beseech you , see if I can looke to this . Wasp takes the Licence from him .

COK.

Why , Numps ?

WAS.

Why ? because you are an Asse , Sir , there 's a reason the shortest way , and you will needs ha' it ; now you ha' got the tricke of losing , you 'ld lose your breech , an 't 't were loofe . I know you , Sir , come , deliuer , you 'll goe and cracke the vermine , you breed now , will you ? 't is very fine , will you ha' the truth on 't ? they are such retchlesse flies as you are , that blow cutpurses abroad in euery corner ; your foolish hauing of money , makes 'hem . An' there were no wiser then I , Sir , the trade shoud lye open for you , Sir , it should i'faith , Sir . I would teach your wit to come to your head , Sir , as well as your land to come into your hand , I assure you , Sir .

WIN.

Alacke , good Numps .

WAS.

Nay , Gentlemen , neuer pitty mee , I am not worth it : Lord send me at home once , to Harrow o' the Hill againe , if I trauell any more , call me Coriat ; withall my heart .

QVAR.

Stay , Sir , I must haue a word with you in priuate . Doe you heare ?

EDG.

With me , Sir ? what 's your pleasure ? good Sir .

QVAR.

Doe not deny it . You are a cutpurse , Sir , this Gentleman here , and I , saw you , nor doe we meane to detect you ( though we can sufficiently informe our selues , toward the danger of concealing you ) but you must doe vs a piece of seruice .

EDG.

Good Gentlemen ; doe not vndoe me ; I am a ciuill young man , and but a beginner , indeed .

QVAR.

Sir , your beginning shall bring on your ending , for vs. We are no Catchpoles nor Constables . That you are to vndertake , is this ; you saw the old fellow , with the blacke boxe , here ?

EDG.

The little old Gouernour , Sir ?

QVAR.

That same : I see , you haue flowne him to a marke already . I would ha' you get away that boxe from him , and bring it vs.

EDG.

Would you ha' the boxe and all , Sir ? or onely that , that is in 't ? I 'le get you that , and leaue him the boxe , to play with still : ( which will be the harder o' the two ) because I would gaine your worships good opinion of me .

WIN-W.

He sayes well , 't is the greater Mastry , and 't will make the more sport when 't is mist .

EDG.

I , and 't will be the longer a missing , to draw on the sport .

QVAR.

But looke you doe it now , sirrah , and keepe your word : or —

EDG.

Sir , if euer I breake my word , with a Gentleman , may I neuer read word at my need . Where shall I find you ?

QVAR.

Some-where i'the Fayre , heereabouts . Dispatch it quickly . I would faine see the carefull foole deluded ! of all Beasts , I loue the serious Asse . He that takes paines to be one , and playes the foole , with the greatest diligence that can be .

GRA.

Then you would not chose , Sir , but loue my Guardian , Iustice Ouerdoo , who is answerable to that description , in euery haire of him .

QVAR.

So I haue heard . But how came you , Mistis Welborne , to be his Ward ? or haue relation to him , at first ?

GRA.

Faith , through a common calamity , he bought me , Sir ; and now he will marry me to his wiues brother , this wise Gentleman , that you see , or else I must pay value o' my land

QVAR.

S'lid , is there no deuice of disparagement ? or so ? talke with some crafty fellow , some pick locke o' the Law ! Would I had studied a yeere longer i' the Innes of Court , and 't had beene but i' your case .

WIN-W.

I Master Quarlous , are you proffering ?

GRA.

You 'ld bring but little ayde , Sir .

WIN-W.

( I 'le looke to you 'ifaith , Gamster . ) An vnfortunate foolish Tribe you are falne into , Lady , I wonder you can endure 'hem .

GRA.

Sir , they that cannot worke their fetters off ; must weare 'hem .

WIN W.

You see what care they haue on you , to leaue you thus .

GRA.

Faith the same they haue of themselues , Sir . I cannot greatly complaine , if this were all the plea I had against 'hem .

WIN.

'T is true ! but will you please to withdraw with vs , a little , and make them thinke , they haue lost you . I hope our manners ha' beene such hitherto , and our language , as will giue you no cause , to doubt your selfe , in our company .

GRA.

Sir , I will giue my selfe , no cause ; I am so secure of mine owne manners , as I suspect not yours .

QVAR.

Looke where Iohn Little-wit comes .

WIN-W.

Away , I 'le not be seene , by him .

QVAR.

No , you were not best , hee 'ld tell his mother , the widdow .

WIN-W.

Heatt , what doe you meane ?

QVAR.

Cry you mercy , is the winde there ? must not the widdow be nam'd ?

ACT. III SCENE . VI. IOHN . WIN. TRASH . LEATHERHEAD . KNOCKHVM . BVSY. PVRECRAFT .

DOe you heare Win , Win ?

WIN.

What say you , Iohn ?

IOH.

While they are paying the reckoning , Win , I 'll tell you a thing Win , wee shall neuer see any sights i' the Fayre , Win , except you long still , Win , good Win , sweet Win , long to see some Hobby-horses , and some Drummes , and Rattles , and Dogs , and fine deuices , Win. The Bull with the fiue legs , Win ; and the great Hog : now you ha' begun with Pigge , you may long for any thing , Win , and so for my Motion , Win.

WIN.

But we sha'not eat o' the Bull , and the Hogge , Iohn , how shall I long then ?

IOH.

O yes ! Win : you may long to see , as well as to taste , Win : how did the Pothecarie's wife , Win , that long'd to see the Anatomy , Win ? or the Lady , Win , that desir'd to spit i' the great Lawyers mouth , after an eloquent pleading ? I assure you they long'd , Win , good Win , goe in , and long .

TRA.

I think we are rid of our new customer , brother Leatherhead , wee shall heare no more of him . They plot to be gone .

LEA.

All the better , let 's packe vp all , and be gone , before he finde vs.

TRA.

Stay a little , yonder comes a company : it may be wee may take some more money .

KNO ,

Sir , I will take your counsell , and cut my haire , and leaue vapours : I see , that Tabacco , and Bottle-Ale , and Pig , and Whit , and very Vrsla , her selfe , is all vanity .

BVS.

Onely Pigge was not comprehended in my admonition , the rest were . For long haire , it is an Ensigne of pride , a banner , and the world is full of those banners , very full of Banners . And , bottle-ale is a drinke of Sathan's , a diet-drinke of Sathans , deuised to puffe vs vp , and make vs swell in this latter age of vanity , as the smoake of tabacco , to keepe vs in mist and error : But the fleshly woman , ( which you call Vrsla ) is aboue all to be auoyded , hauing the marks vpon her , of the three enemies of Man , the World , as being in the Faire ; the Deuill , as being in the fire ; and and the Flesh , as being her selfe .

PVR.

Brother Zeale-of-the-land ! what shall we doe ? my daughter Win-the-fight , is falne into her fit of longing againe .

BVS.

For more pig ? there is no more , is there ?

PVR.

To see some sights , i' the Faire .

BVS.

Sister , let her fly the impurity of the place , swiftly , lest shee partake of the pitch thereof . Thou art the seate of the Beast , O Smithfield , and I will leaue thee . Idolatry peepeth out on euery side of thee .

KNO.

An excellent right Hypocrite ! now his belly is full , he falls a railing and kicking , the Iade . A very good vapour ! I 'll in , and ioy Vrsla , with telling , how her pigge works , two and a halfe he eate to his share . And he has drunke a pailefull . He eates with his eyes , as well as his teeth .

LEA.

What doe you lack , Gentlemen ? What is 't you buy ? Rattles , Drumms , Babies . —

BVS.

Peace , with thy Apocryphall wares , thou prophane Publican : thy Bells , thy Dragons , and thy Tobie's Dogges . Thy Hobby-horse is an Idoll , a very Idoll , a feirce and rancke Idoll : And thou , the Nabuchadnezzar , the proud Nabuchadnezzar of the Faire , that set'st it vp , for children to fall downe to , and worship .

LEA.

Cry you mercy , Sir , will you buy a fiddle to fill vp your noise .

IOH.

Looke Win. doe , looke a Gods name , and saue your longing . Here be fine sights .

PVR.

I child , so you hate 'hem , as our Brother Zeale do's , you may looke on 'hem .

LEA.

Or what do you say , to a Drumme . Sir ?

BVS.

It is the broken belly of the Beast , and thy Bellowes there are his lungs , and these Pipes are his throate , those Feathers are of his taile , and thy Rattles , the gnashing of his teeth .

TRA.

And what 's my ginger-bread ? I pray you .

BVS.

The prouander that pricks him vp . Hence with thy basket of Popery , thy nest of Images : and whole legend of ginger-worke .

LEA.

Sir if you be not quiet , the quicklier , I 'll ha' you clapp'd fairely by the heeles , for disturbing the Faire .

BVS.

The sinne of the Faire prouokes me , I cannot bee silent .

PVR.

Good brother Zeale !

LEA.

Sir , I 'll make you silent , beleeue it .

IOH.

I l'd giue a shilling , you could i'faith , friend .

LEA.

Sir , giue me your shilling , I 'll giue you my shop , if I do not , and I 'll leaue it in pawne with you , i' the meane time .

IOH.

A match i'faith , but do it quickly , then .

BVS.

Hinder me not , woman . I was mou'd in spirit , He speakes to the widdow . to bee here , this day , in this Faire , this wicked , and foule Faire ; and fitter may it be a called a foule , then a Faire : To protest against the abuses of it , the foule abuses of it , in regard of the afflicted Saints , that are troubled , very much troubled , exceedingly troubled , with the opening of the merchandize of Babylon againe , & the peeping of Popery vpon the stals , here , here , in the high places . See you not Goldylocks , the purple strumpet , there ? in her yellow gowne , and greene sleeues ? the prophane pipes , the tinckling timbrells ? A shop of reliques !

IOH.

Pray you forbeare , I am put in trust with 'hem .

BVS.

And this Idolatrous Groue of Images , this flasket of Idols ! Ouerthrows the ginger-bread . which I will pull downe —

TRA.

O my ware , my ware , God blesse it . )

BVS.

In my zeale , and glory to be thus exercis'd .

LEA.

Here he is , pray you lay hold on his zeale , wee cannot sell a whistle , for him , in tune . Stop his noyse , first !

BVS.

Thou canst not : 't is a sanctified noise . Leatherhead enters with officers I will make a loud and most strong noise , till I haue daunted the prophane enemy . And for this cause . —

LEA.

Sir , heer 's no man afraid of you , or your cause . You shall sweare it , i' the stocks , Sir .

BVS.

I will thrust my selfe into the stocks , vpon the pikes of the Land .

LEA.

Carry him away .

PVR.

What doe you meane , wicked men ?

BVS.

Let them alone ; I feare them not .

IOH.

Was not this shilling well ventur'd , Win ? for our liberty ? Now we may goe play , and see ouer the Fayre , where we list our selues ; my mother is gone after him , and let her ee'n go , and loose vs.

WIN.

Yes Iohn , but I know not what to doe .

IOH.

For what , Win ?

WIN.

For a thing , I am asham'd to tell you , i'faith , and 't is too farre to go home .

IOH.

I pray thee bee not asham'd , Win. Come , i'faith thou shall not be asham'd , is it any thing about the Hobby-horse-man ? an 't be , speake freely .

WIN.

Hang him , base Bobehin , I scorne him ; no , I haue very great , what sha'call'um , Iohn .

IOH.

ô ! Is that all , Win ? wee 'll goe backe to Captaine Iordan ; to the pig-womans , Win. hee 'll helpe vs , or she with a dripping pan , or an old kettle , or something . The poore greasie soule loues you , Win , and after we 'll visit the Fayre all ouer , Win , and , see my Puppet play , Win , you know it 's a fine matter , Win.

LEA.

Let 's away , I counsell'd you to packe vp afore , Ione .

TRA.

A poxe of his Bedlem purity . Hee has spoyl'd halfe my ware : but the best is , wee lose nothing , if wee misse our first Merchant .

LEA.

It shall be hard for him to finde , or know vs , when we are translated , Ione .

ACT. IIII. SCENE . I. TROVBLE-ALL . BRISTLE . HAGGISE , COKES . IVSTICE . POCHER . BVSY. PVRECRAFT .

MY Masters , I doe make no doubt , but you are officers .

BRI.

What then , Sir ?

TRO.

And the Kings louing , and obedient subiects .

BRI.

Obedient , friend ? take heede what you speake , I aduise you : Oliuer Bristle aduises you . His louing subiects , we grant you : but not his obedient , at this time , by your leaue , wee know our selues , a little better then so , wee are to command , Sr. and such as you are to be obedient . Here 's one of his obedient subiects , going to the stocks , and wee 'll make you such another , if you talke .

TRO.

You are all wise enough i' your places , I know .

BRI.

If you know it , Sir , why doe you bring it in question ?

TRO.

I question nothing , pardon me . I do only hope you haue warrant , He goes away againe . for what you doe , and so , quit you , and so , multiply you .

HAG.

What 's hee ? bring him vp to the stocks there . Why bring you him not vp ?

TRO.

If you haue Iustice Ouerdoo's warrant , 't is well : comes again . you are safe ; that is the warrant of warrants . I 'le not giue this button , for any mans warrant else .

BRI.

Like enough , Sir , but let me tell you , an' you play away your buttons , thus , you will want 'hem ere night , goes away . for any store I see about you : you might keepe 'hem , and saue pinnes , I wusse .

IVS.

What should hee be , that doth so esteeme , and aduance my warrant ? he seemes a sober and discreet person ! it is a comfort to a good conscience , to be follow'd with a good fame , in his sufferings . The world will haue a pretty tast by this , how I can beare aduersity : and it will beget a kind of reuerence , toward me , hereafter , euen from mine enemies , when they shall see I carry my calamity nobly , and that it doth neither breake mee , nor bend mee .

HAG.

Come , Sir , heere 's a place for you to preach in . They put him in the stocks . Will you put in your legge ?

IVS.

That I will , cheerefully .

BRI.

O' my conscience a Seminary !

hee kisses the stockes . COK.

Well my Masters , I 'le leaue him with you ; now I see him bestow'd , I 'le goe looke for my goods , and Numps .

HAG.

You may , Sir , I warrant you ; where 's the tother Bawler ? fetch him too , you shall find 'hem both fast enough .

IVS.

In the mid'st of this tumult , I will yet be the Author of mine owne rest , and not minding their fury , sit in the stockes , in that calme , as shall be able to trouble a Triumph . comes again ,

TRO.

Doe you assure me vpon your words ? may I vndertake for you , if I be ask'd the question ; that you haue this warrant ?

HAG.

What 's this fellow , for Gods sake ?

TRO.

Doe but shew me Adam Ouerdoo , and I am satisfied . goes out .

BRI.

Hee is a fellow that is distracted , they say ; one Trouble-all : hee was an officer in the Court of Pie-poulders , here last yeere , and put out on his place by Iustice Ouerdoo .

IVS.

Ha!

BRI.

Vpon which , he tooke an idle conceipt , and 's runne mad vpon 't . So that euer since , hee will doe nothing , but by Iustice Ouerdoo's warrant , he will not eate a crust , nor drinke a little , nor make him in his apparell , ready . His wife , Sirreuerence , cannot get him make his water , or shift his shirt , without his warrant .

IVS.

If this be true , this is my greatest disaster ! how am I bound to satisfie this poore man , that is of so good a nature to mee , out of his wits ! where there is no roome left for dissembling . comes in .

TRO.

If you cannot shew me Adam Ouerdoo , I am in doubt of you : I am afraid you cannot answere it . goes againe .

HAG.

Before me , Neighbour Bristle ( and now I thinke on 't better ) Iustice Ouerdoo , is a very parantory person .

BRI.

O! are you aduis'd of that ? and a seuere Iusticer , by your leaue .

IVS.

Doe I heare ill o' that side , too ?

BRI.

He will sit as vpright o' the bench , an' you marke him , as a candle i' the socket , and giue light to the whole Court in euery businesse .

HAG.

But he will burne blew , and swell like a bile ( God blesse vs ) an' he be angry .

BRI.

I , and hee will be angry too , when his list , that 's more : and when hee is angry , be it right or wrong ; hee has the Law on 's side , euer . I marke that too .

IVS.

I will be more tender hereafter . I see compassion may become a Iustice , though it be a weaknesse , I confesse ; and neerer a vice , then a vertue .

HAG.

They take the Iustice out . Well , take him out o' the stocks againe , wee 'll goe a sure way to worke , wee 'll ha' the Ace of hearts of our side , if we can .

POC.

Come , bring him away to his fellow , there . Master Busy , we shall rule your legges , I hope , though wee cannot rule your tongue .

BVS.

No , Minister of darkenesse , no , thou canst not rule my tongue , my tongue it is mine own , and with it I will both knocke , and mocke downe your Bartholmew-abhominations , till you be made a hissing to the neighbour Parishes , round about .

HAG.

Let him alone , we haue deuis'd better vpon 't .

PVR.

And shall he not into the stocks then ?

BRI.

No , Mistresse , wee 'll haue 'hem both to Iustice Ouerdoo , and let him doe ouer 'hem as is fitting . Then I , and my gossip Haggis , and my beadle Pocher are discharg'd .

PVR.

O , I thanke you , blessed , honest men !

BRI.

Nay , neuer thank vs , but thank this mad-man that comes heere , hee put it in our heads .

PVR.

Is hee mad ? Now heauen increase his madnesse , and blesse it , Comes againe . and thanke it , Sir , your poore hand-maide thanks you .

TRO.

Haue you a warrant ? an' you haue a warrant , shew it .

PVR.

Yes , I haue a warrant out of the word , to giue thankes for remouing any scorne intended to the brethren .

TRO.

It is Iustice Ouerdoo's warrant , that I looke for , if you haue not that , keepe your word , I 'le keepe mine . Quit yee , and multiply yee .

ACT. IIII. SCENE . II. EDGWORTH . TROVBLE-ALL . NIGHTINGALE . COKES . COSTARDMONGER .

COme away Nightingale , I pray thee .

TRO.

Whither goe you ? where 's your warrant ?

EDG.

Warrant , for what , Sir ?

TRO.

For what you goe about , you know how fit it is , an' you haue no warrant , blesse you , I 'le pray for you , Goes out . that 's all I can doe .

EDG.

What meanes hee ?

NIG.

A mad-man that haunts the Fayre , doe you not know him ? it's maruell hee has not more followers , after his ragged heeles .

EDG.

Beshrew him , he startled me : I thought he had knowne of our plot . Guilt 's a terrible thing ! ha' you prepar'd the Costard-monger ?

NIG.

Yes , and agreed for his basket of peares ; hee is at the corner here , ready . And your Prise , he comes downe , sailing , that way , all alone ; without his Protector : hee is rid of him , it seemes .

EDG.

I , I know ; I should ha' follow'd his Protector-ship for a feat I am to doe vpon him : But this offer'd it selfe , so i' the way , I could not let it scape : heere he comes , whistle , Nightingale whistles be this sport call'd Dorring the Dottrell .

NIG.

Wh , wh , wh , wh , &c.

COK.

By this light , I cannot finde my ginger-bread-Wife , nor my Hobby-horse-man in all the Fayre , now ; to ha' my money againe . And I do not know the way out on 't , to go home for more , doe you heare , friend , you that whistle ; what tune is that , you whistle ?

NIG.

A new tune , I am practising , Sir .

COK.

Dost thou know where I dwell , I pray thee ? nay , on with thy tune , I ha' no such hast , for an answer : I 'le practise with thee . Nightingale sets his foots afore him , and he falls with his basket .

COS.

Buy any peares , very fine peares , peares fine .

COK.

Gods so ! a musse , a musse , a musse , a musse .

COS.

Good Gentleman , my ware , my ware , I am a poore man . Good Sir , my ware .

NIG.

Cokes falls ascrambling whilest they runne away with his things . Let me hold your sword , Sir , it troubles you .

COK.

Doe , and my cloake , an 'thou wilt ; and my hat , too .

EDG.

A delicate great boy ! me thinks , he out-scrambles 'hem all . I cannot perswade my selfe , but he goes to grammer-schole yet ; and playes the trewant , to day .

NIG.

Would he had another purse to cut , Zekiel .

EDG.

Purse ? a man might cut out his kidneys , I thinke ; and he neuer feele 'hem , he is so earnest at the sport .

NIG.

His soule is halfe way out on 's body , at the game .

EDG.

Away , Nightingale : that way .

COK.

I thinke I am furnish'd for Catherne peares , for one vnder-meale : gi' me my cloake .

COS.

Good Gentleman , giue me my ware .

COK.

Where 's the fellow , I ga' my cloake to ? my cloake ? and my hat ? He runs out . ha ! Gods'lid , is he gone ? thieues , thieues , helpe me to cry , Gentlemen .

EDG.

Away , Costermonger , come to vs to Vrsla's . Talke of him to haue a soule ? ' heart , if hee haue any more then a thing giuen him in stead of salt , onely to keepe him from stinking , I 'le be hang'd afore my time , presently , where should it be trow ? in his blood ? hee has not so much to'ard it in his whole body , as will maintaine a good Flea ; And if hee take this course , he will not ha' so much land left , as to reare a Calfe within this twelue mouth . Was there euer greene Plouer so pull'd ! That his little Ouerseer had beene heere now , and beene but tall enough , to see him steale peares , in exchange , for his beauer-hat , and his cloake thus ? I must goe finde him out , next , for his blacke boxe , and his Patent ( it feemes ) hee has of his place ; which I thinke the Gentleman would haue a reuersion of ; that spoke to me for it so earnestly .

COK.

He comes againe . Would I might lose my doublet , and hose , too ; as I am an honest man , and neuer stirre , if I thinke there be any thing , but thieuing , and cooz'ning , i'th is whole Fayre , Bartholmew-fayre , quoth he ; an' euer any Bartholmew had that lucke in 't , that I haue had , I 'le be martyr'd for him , throws away his peares . and in Smithfield , too . I ha' paid for my peares , a rot on 'hem , I 'le keepe 'hem no longer ; you were choake-peares to mee ; I had bin better ha' gone to mum chance for you , I wusse . Me thinks the Fayre should not haue vs'd me thus , and 't were but for my names sake , I would nor ha' vs'd a dog o' the name , so . O , Numps will triumph , now ! Friend , doe you know who I am ? or where I lye ? I doe not my selfe , I 'll besworne . Doe but carry me home , and I 'le please thee , I ha' money enough there , I ha' lost my selfe , and my cloake and my hat ; and my fine sword , and my sister , and Numps , and Mistris Grace , ( a Gentlewoman that I should ha' marryed ) and a cut-worke handkercher , shee ga' mee , and two purses to day . And my bargaine . o' Hobby-horses and Ginger-bread , Trouble-all comes again . which grieues me worst of all .

TRO.

By whose warrant , Sir , haue you done all this ?

COK.

Warrant ? thou art a wise fellow , indeed , as if a man need a warrant to lose any thing , with .

TRO.

Yes , Iustice Ouerdo's warrant , a man may get , and lose with , I 'le stand to 't .

COK.

Iustice Ouerdoo ? Dost thou know him ? I lye there , hee is my brother in Law , hee marryed my sister : pray thee shew me the way , dost thou know the house ?

TRO.

Sir , shew mee your warrant , I know nothing without a warrant , pardon me .

COK.

Why , I warrant thee , come along : thou shalt see , I haue wrought pillowes there , and cambricke sheetes , and sweete bags , too . Pray thee guide me to the house .

TRO.

Sir , I 'le tell you ; goe you thither your selfe , first , alone ; tell your worshipfull brother your minde ; and but bring me three lines of his hand , or his Clerkes , with Adam Ouerdoo , vnderneath ; here I 'le stay you , I le obey you , and I 'le guide you presently .

COK.

S'lid , this is an Asse , I ha' found him , poxe vpon mee , what doe I talking to such a dull foole ; farewell , you are a very Coxcomb , doe you heare ?

TRO.

I thinke , I am , if Iustice Ouerdoo signe to it , I am , and so wee are all , hee 'll quit vs all , multiply vs all .

ACT. IIII. SCENE . IIJ. GRACE . QVARLOVS . WIN-WIFE . They enter with their swords drawne . TROVBLE-ALL . EDGWORTH .

GEntlemen , this is no way that you take : you do but breed one another trouble , and offence , and giue me no contentment at all . I am no she , that affects to be quarell'd for , or haue my name or fortune made the question of mens swords .

QVA.

S'lood , wee loue you .

GRA.

If you both loue mee , as you pretend , your owne reason will tell you , but one can enioy me ; and to that point , there leads a directer line , then by my infamy , which must follow , if you fight . 'T is true , I haue profest it to you ingenuously , that rather then to be yoak'd with this Bridegroome is appointed me , I would take vp any husband , almost vpon any trust . Though Subtilty would say to me , ( I know ) hee is a foole , and has an estate , and I might gouerne him , and enioy a friend , beside . But these are not my aymes , I must haue a husband I must loue , or I cannot liue with him . I shall ill make one of these politique wiues !

WIN-W.

Why , if you can like either of vs , Lady , say , which is he , and the other shall sweare instantly to desist .

QVA.

Content , I accord to that willingly .

GRA.

Sure you thinke me a woman of an extreme leuity , Gentlemen , or a strange fancy , that ( meeting you by chance in such a place , as this , both at one instant , and not yet of two hours acquaintance , neither of you deseruing afore the other , of me ) I should so forsake my modesty ( though I might affect one more particularly ) as to say , This is be , and name him .

QVA.

Why , wherefore should you not ? What should hinder you ?

GRA.

If you would not giue it to my modesty , allow it yet to my wit ; giue me so much of woman , and cunning , as not to betray my selfe impertinently . How can I iudge of you , so farre as to a choyse , without knowing you more ? you are both equall , and alike to mee , yet : and so indifferently affected by mee , as each of you might be the man , if the other were away . For you are reasonable creatures , you haue vnderstanding , and discourse . And if fate send me an vnderstanding husband , I haue no feare at all , but mine owne manners shall make him a good one .

QVAR.

Would I were put forth to making for you , then .

GRA.

It may be you are , you know not what 's toward you : will you consent to a motion of mine , Gentlemen ?

WIN W.

What euer it be , we 'll presume reasonablenesse , comming from you .

QVAR.

And fitnesse , too .

GRA.

I saw one of you buy a paire of tables , e'en now .

WIN-W.

Yes , heere they be , and maiden ones too , vnwritten in .

GRA.

The fitter for what they may be imployed in . You shall write either of you , heere , a word , or a name , what you like best ; but of two , or three syllables at most : and the next person that comes this way ( because Destiny has a high hand in businesse of this nature ) I 'le demand , which of the two words , he , or she doth approue ; and according to that sentence , fixe my resolution , and affection , without change .

QVAR.

Agreed , my word is conceiued already .

WIN-W.

And mine shall not be long creating after .

GRA.

But you shall promise , Gentlemen , not to be curious to know , which of you it is , taken ; but giue me leaue to conceale that till you haue brought me , either home , or where I may safely tender my selfe .

WIN-W

Why that 's but equall .

QVAR.

Wee are pleas'd .

GRA.

Because I will bind both your indeauours to work together , friendly , and ioyntly , each to the others fortune , and haue my selfe sitted with some meanes , to make him that is forsaken , a part of amends .

QVAR.

These conditions are very curteous . Well my word is out of the Arcadia , then : Argalus .

WIN-W.

And mine out of the play , Palemon .

TRO.

Haue you any warrant for this , Gentlemen ? Trouble-all comes again .

QVAR.

WIN-W. Ha!

TRO.

There must be a warrant had , beleeue it .

WIN-W.

For what ?

TRO.

Fot whatsoeuer it is , any thing indeede , no matter what .

QVA.

S'light , here 's a fine ragged Prophet , dropt downe i' the nicke !

TRO.

Heauen quit you , Gentlemen .

QVA.

Nay , stay a little , good Lady , put him to the question .

GRA.

You are content , then ?

WIN-W.

QVAR. Yes yes .

GRA.

Sir , heere are two names written —

TRO.

Is Iudice Ouerdoo , one ?

GRA.

How , Sir ? I pray you read 'hem to your selfe , it is for a wager betweene these Gentlemen , and with a stroake or any difference , marke which you approue best .

TRO.

They may be both worshipfull names for ought I know , Mistresse , but Adam Ouerdoo had beene worth three of 'hem , I assure you , in this place , that 's in plaine english .

GRA.

This man amazes mee ! I pray you , like one of 'hem , Sir .

TRO.

I doe like him there , that has the best warrant , Mistresse , to saue your longing , and ( multiply him ) It may be this . But I am I still for Iustice Ouerdoo , that 's my conscience . And quit you .

WIN-W.

Is' t done , Lady ?

GRA.

I , and strangely , as euer I saw ! What fellow is this trow ?

QVA.

No matter what , a Fortune-teller wee ha' made him . Which is 't , which is 't .

GRA.

Nay , did you not promise , not to enquire ?

QVA.

S'lid , I forgot that , pray you pardon mee . Looke , here 's our Mercury come : The Licence arriues i' the finest time , too ! 't is but scraping out Cokes his name , and 't is done .

WIN-W.

How now lime-twig ? hast thou touch'd .

EDG.

Not yet , Sir , except you would goe with mee , and see 't , it 's not worth speaking on . The act is nothing , without a witnesse . Yonder he is , your man with the boxe falne into the finest company , and so transported with vapours , they ha' got in a Northren Clothier , and one Puppy , a Westerne man , that 's come to wrastle before my Lord Maior , anone , and Captaine Whit , and one Val Cutting , that helpes Captaine Iordan to roare , a circling boy : with whom your Numps , is so taken , that you may strip him of his cloathes , if you will . I 'le vndertake to geld him for you ; if you had but a Surgeon , ready , to seare him . And Mistresse Iustice , there , is the goodest woman ! shee do's so loue 'hem all ouer , in termes of Iustice , and the Stile of authority , with her hood vpright — that I beseech you come away Gentlemen , and see 't .

QVAR.

S light , I would not lose it for the Fayre , what 'll you doe , Ned ?

WIN W.

Why , stay heere about for you , Mistresse Welborne must not be seene .

QVA.

Doe so , and find out a Priest i' the meane time , I 'le bring the License . Lead , which way is 't ?

EDG.

Here , Sir , you are o' the backeside o' the Booth already , you may heare the noise .

ACT. IIIJ. SCENE . IV. KNOCKHVM . NORDERN . PVPPY . CVTTING . WHIT. EDGWORTH . QVARLOVS . OVER DOO . WASPE. BRISTLE .

WHit , bid Vall Cutting continue the vapours for a lift , Whit , for a lift .

NOR.

I l'e ne mare , I l'e ne mare , the eale's too meeghty .

KNO.

How now ! my Galloway Nag , the staggers ? ha ! Whit , gi 'him a slit i' the fore-head . Cheare vp , man , a needle , and threed to stitch his eares . I 'ld cure him now an' I had it , with a little butter , and garlike , long-pepper , and graines . Where 's my horne ? I 'le gi 'him a mash , presently , shall take away this dizzinesse .

PVP.

Why , where are you zurs ? doe you vlinch , and leaue vs i' the zuds , now ?

NOR.

I 'le ne mare , I' is e'en as vull as a Paipers bag , by my troth , I.

PVP.

Doe my Northerne cloth zhrinke i' the wetting ? ha ?

KNO.

Why , well said , old Flea-bitten , thou 'lt neuer tyre , I see .

CVT.

They fall to their vapours , againe . No , Sir , but he may tire , if it please him .

WHI.

Who told dee sho ? that he vuld neuer teer , man ?

CVT.

No matter who told him so , so long as he knowes .

KNO.

Nay , I know nothing , Sir , pardon me there .

EDG.

They are at it stil , Sir , this they call vapours .

WHI.

He shall not pardon dee , Captaine , dou shalt not be pardon'd . Pre'de shweete heart doe not pardon him .

CVT.

S'light , I 'le pardon him , an' I list , whosoeuer saies nay to 't .

QVAR.

Where 's Numps ? I misse him . Here they continue their game of vapours , which is non sense . Euery man to oppose the last man that spoke : whethe it concern'd him , or no.

WAS.

Why , I say nay to 't .

QVAR.

O there he is !

KNO.

To what doe you say nay , Sir ?

WAS.

To any thing , whatsoeuer it is , so long as I do not like it .

WHI.

Pardon me , little man , dou musht like it a little .

CVT.

No , hee must not like it at all , Sir , there you are i' the wrong .

WHI.

I tinke I be , he musht not like it , indeede .

CVT.

Nay , then he both must , and will like it , Sir , for all you .

KNO.

If he haue reason , he may like it , Sir .

WHI.

By no meansh Captaine , vpon reason , he may like nothing vpon reason .

WAS.

I haue no reason , nor I will heare of no reason , nor I will looke for no reason , and he is an Asse , that either knowes any , or lookes for 't from me .

CVT.

Yes , in some sense you may haue reason , Sir .

WAS.

I , in some sense , I care not if I grant you .

WHI.

Pardon mee , thou ougsht to grant him nothing , in no shensh , if dou doe loue dy shelfe , angry man .

WAS.

Why then , I doe grant him nothing ; and I haue no sense .

CVT.

'T is true , thou hast no sense indeed .

WAS.

S'lid , but I haue sense , now I thinke on 't better , and I will grant him any thing , doe you see ?

KNO.

He is i' the right , and do's vtter a sufficient vapour .

CVT.

Nay , it is no sufficient vapour , neither , I deny that .

KNO.

Then it is a sweet vapour .

CVT.

It may be a sweet vapour .

WAS.

Nay , it is no sweet vapour , neither , Sir , it stinkes , and I 'le stand to 't .

WHI.

Yes , I tinke it dosh shtinke , Captaine . All vapour dosh shtinke .

WAS.

Nay , then it do's not stinke , Sir , and it shall not stinke .

CVT.

By your leaue , it may , Sir .

WAS.

I , by my leaue , it may stinke , I know that .

WHI.

Pardon me , thou knowesht nothing , it cannot by thy leaue , angry man .

WAS.

How can it not ?

KNO.

Nay , neuer question him , for he is i' the right .

WHI.

Yesh , I am i 'de right , I confesh it , so ish de little man too .

WAS.

I 'le haue nothing confest , that concernes mee . I am not i' the right , nor neuer was i' the right , nor neuer will be i' the right , while I am in my right minde ,

CVT.

Minde ? why , heere 's no man mindes you , Sir , They drinke againe . nor any thing else .

PVP.

Vreind , will you mind this that wee doe ?

QVA.

Call you this vapours ? this is such beltching of quarrell , as I neuer heard . Will you minde your businesse , Sir ?

EDG.

You shall see , Sir .

NOR.

I 'le ne maire , my waimb warkes too mickle with this auready .

EDG.

Will you take that , Master Waspe , that no body should minde you ?

WAS.

Why ? what ha' you to doe ? is 't any matter to you ?

EDG.

No , but me thinks you should not be vnminded , though ,

WAS.

Nor , I wu'not be , now I thinke on 't , doe you heare , new acquaintance , do's no man mind me , say you ?

CVT.

Yes , Sir , euery man heere mindes you , but how ?

WAS.

Nay , I care as little how , as you doe , that was not my question .

WHI.

No , noting was ty question , tou art a learned man , and I am a valiant man , i'faith la , tou shalt speake for mee , and I vill fight for tee .

KNO.

Fight for him , Whit ? A grosse vapour , hee can fight for himselfe .

WAS.

It may be I can , but it may be , I wu' not , how then ?

CVT.

Why , then you may chuse .

WAS.

Why , and I 'le chuse whether I 'le chuse or no.

KNO.

I thinke you may , and 't is true ; and I allow it for a resolute vapour .

WAS.

Nay , then , I doe thinke you doe not thinke , and it is no resolute vapour .

CVT.

Yes , in some sort he may allow you .

KNO.

In no sort , Sir , pardon me , I can allow him nothing . You mistake the vapour .

WAS.

He mistakes nothing , Sir , in no sort .

WHI.

Yes , I pre dee now , let him mistake .

WAS.

A turd i' your teeth , neuer pre dee mee , for I will haue nothing mistaken .

KNO.

They fall by the eares . Turd , ha turd ? a noysome vapour , strike Whit.

OVE.

Why , Gentlemen , why Gentlemen , I charge you vpon my authority , conserue the peace . In the Kings name , and my Husbands , put vp your weapons , I shall be driuen to commit you my selfe , else :

QVA.

Ha , ha , ha .

WAS.

Why doe you laugh , Sir ?

QVA.

Sir , you 'll allow mee my christian liberty . I may laugh , I hope .

CVT.

In some sort you may , and in some sort you may not , Sir .

KNO.

Nay in some sort , Sir , hee may neither laugh , nor hope , in this company .

WAS.

Yes , then he may both laugh , and hope in any sort , an 't please him .

QVA.

Faith , and I will then , for it doth please mee exceedingly .

WAS.

No exceeding neither , Sir .

KNO.

No , that vapour is too lofty .

QVA.

Gentlemen , I doe not play well at your game of vapours , I am not very good at it , but —

CVT.

Doe you heare , Sir ? I would speake with you in circle ? Hee drawes a circle on the ground .

QVA.

In circle , Sir ? what would you with me in circle ?

CVT.

Can you lend me a Piece , a Iacobus ? in circle ?

QVA.

S'lid , your circle will proue more costly then your vapours , then . Sir , no , I lend you none .

CVT.

Your beard 's not well turn'd vp , Sir .

QVA.

How Rascall ? are you playing with my beard ? They draw all , and fight . I 'le breake circle with you .

PVP.

NOR. Gentlemen , Gentlemen !

KNO.

Gather vp , Whit , gather vp , Whit , good vapours .

OVE.

What meane you ? are you Rebells ? Gentlemen ? shall I send out a Serieant at Armes , or a Writ o' Rebellion , against you ? I 'le commit you vpon my woman-hood , for a Riot , vpon my Iustice-hood , if you persist .

WAS.

Vpon your Iustice-hood ? Mary shite o' your hood , you 'll commit ? Spoke like a true Iustice of peace's wife , indeed , and a fine female Lawyer ! turd i' your teeth for a fee , now .

OVER.

Why , Numps , in Master Ouerdoo's name , I charge you .

WAS.

Good Mistresse Vnderdoo hold your tongue .

OVER.

Alas ! poore Numps .

WAS.

Alas ! and why alas from you , I beseech you ? or why poore Numps , goody Rich ? am I come to be pittied by your tuft taffata now ? why Mistresse , I knew Adam , the Clerke , your husband , when he was Adam Scriuener , and writ for two pence a sheet , as high as he beares his head now , or you your hood , Dame . What are you , Sir ? The watch comes in .

BRI.

Wee be men , and no Infidells ; what is the matter , here , and the noyses ? can you tell ?

WAS.

Heart , what ha' you to doe ? cannot a man quarrell in quietnesse ? but hee must be put out on 't by you ? what are you ?

BRI.

Why , wee be his Maiesties Watch , Sir .

WAS.

Watch ? S'blood , you are a sweet watch , indeede . A body would thinke , and you watch'd well a nights , you should be contented to sleepe at this time a day . Get you to your fleas , and your flocke-beds , you Rogues , your kennells , and lye downe close .

BRI.

Downe ? yes , we will downe , I warrant you , downe with him in his Maiesties name , downe , downe with him , and carry him away , to the pigeon-holes .

OVE.

I thanke you honest friends , in the behalfe o' the Crowne , and the peace , and in Master Ouerdoo's name , for suppressing enormities .

WHI.

Stay , Bristle , heere ish a noder brash o 'drunkards , but very quiet , speciall drunkards , will pay dee , fiue shillings very well . Take 'hem to d ee , in de graish o' God ▪ one of hem do's change cloth , for Ale in the Fayre , here , te toder ish a strong man , a mighty man , my Lord Mayors man , and a wrastler . Hee has wrashled so long with the bottle , heere , that the man with the beard , hash almosht streeke vp hish heelsh .

BRI.

S'lid , the Clerke o' the Market , has beene to cry him all the Fayre ouer , here , for my Lords seruice .

WHI.

Tere he ish , pre de taik him hensh , and make ty best on him . How now woman o' shilke , vat ailsh ty shweet faish ? art tou melancholy ?

OVE.

A little distemper'd with these enormities ; shall I intreat a curtesie of you , Captaine ?

WHI.

Intreat a hundred , veluet voman , I vill doe it , shpeake out .

OVE.

I cannot with modesty speake it out , but —

WHI.

I vill doe it , and more , and more , for dee . What Vrsla , and 't be bitch , and 't be baud and 't be !

VRS.

How now Rascall ? what roare you for ? old Pimpe .

WHI.

Heere , put vp de cloakes Vrsh ; de purchase , pre dee now , shweet Vrsh , help dis good braue voman , to a Iordan , and 't be .

VRS.

S'lid call your Captaine Iordan to her , can you not ?

WHI.

Nay , pre dee leaue dy consheits , and bring the veluet woman to de —

VRS.

I bring her , hang her : heart must I find a common pot for euery punque i' your purlews ?

WHI.

O good voordsh , Vrsh , it ish a guest o 'veluet , i'fait la.

VRS.

Let her sell her hood , and buy a spunge , with a poxe to her , my vessell , employed Sir . I haue but one , and 't is the bottome of an old bottle . An honest Proctor , and his wife , are at it , within , if shee 'll stay her time , so .

WHI.

As soone ash tou cansht shwet Vrsh . Of a valiant man I tinke I am the patientsh man i' the world , or in all Smithfield .

KNO.

How now Whit ? close vapours , stealing your leaps ? couering in corners , ha ?

WHI.

No fait , Captaine , dough tou beesht a vishe man , dy vit is a mile hence , now . I vas procuring a shmall courtesie , for a woman of fashion here .

OVE.

Yes , Captaine , though I am Iustice of peace's wife , I doe loue Men of warre , and the Sonnes of the sword , when they come before my husband .

KNO.

Say'st thou so Filly ? thou shalt haue a leape presently , I 'le horse thee my selfe , else .

VRS.

Come , will you bring her in now ? and let her talke her turne ?

WHI.

Gramercy good Vrsh , I tanke dee .

OVER.

Master Ouerdoo shall thanke her .

ACT. IIII. SCENE . V. IOHN . WIN. VRSLA. KNOCKHVM . WHIT. OVERDOO . ALES .

Good Ga'mere Vrs ; Win , and I , are exceedingly beholden to you , and to Captaine Iordan , and Captaine Whit. Win , I 'le be bold to leaue you , i'th is good company , Win : for halfe an houre , or so Win , while I goe , and see how my matter goes forward , and if the Puppets be perfect : and then I 'le come & fetch you , Win.

WIN.

Will you leaue me alone with two men , Iohn ?

IOH.

I , they are honest Gentlmen Win , Captaine Iordan , and Captaine Whit , they 'll vse you very ciuilly , Win , God b'w'you , Win.

VRS.

What 's her husband gone ?

KNO.

On his false , gallop , Vrs , away .

VRS.

An' you be right Bartholmew-birds , now shew your selues so : we are vndone for want of fowle i' the Fayre , here . Here will be Zekiell Edgworth , and three or foure gallants , with him at night , and I ha' neither Plouer nor Qúaile for 'hem : perswade this betweene you two , to become a Bird o' the game , while I worke the veluet woman , within , ( as you call her . )

KNO.

I conceiue thee , Vrs ! goe thy waies , doest thou heare , Whit ? is 't not pitty , my delicate darke chestnut here , with the fine leane head , large fore-head , round eyes , euen mouth , sharpe eares , long necke , thinne crest , close withers , plaine backe , deepe sides , short fillets , and full flankes : with a round belly , a plumpe buttocke , large thighes , knit knees , streight legges , short pasternes , smooth hoofes , and short heeles ; should lead a dull honest womans life , that might liue the life of a Lady ?

WHI.

Yes , by my fait , and trot , it is , Captaine : de honesht womans life is a scuruy dull life , indeed , la.

WIN.

How , Sir ? is an honest womans life a scuruy life ?

WHI.

Yes fait , shweet heart , beleeue him , de leefe of a Bond-woman ! but if dou vilt harken to me , I vill make tee a free-woman , and a Lady : dou shalt liue like a Lady , as te Captaine saish .

KNO.

I , and be honest too sometimes : haue her wiers , and her tires , her greene gownes , and veluet petticoates .

WHI.

I , and ride to Ware and Rumford i' dy Coash , sheede Players , be in loue vit 'hem ; sup vit gallantsh , be drunke , and cost de noting .

KNO.

Braue vapours !

WHI.

And lye by twenty on 'hem , if dou pleash shweet heart .

WIN.

What , and be honest still , that were fine sport .

WHI.

T ish common , shweet heart , tou may'st doe it by my hand : it shall be iustified to ty husbands faish , now : tou shalt be as honesht as the skinne betweene his hornsh , la !

KNO.

Yes , and weare a dressing , top , and top-gallant , to compare with ere a husband on 'hem all , for a fore-top : it is the vapour of spirit in the wife , to cuckold , now adaies ; as it is the vapour of fashion , in the husband , not to suspect . Your prying cat-eyed-citizen , is an abominable vapour .

WIN.

Lord , what a foole haue I beene !

WHI.

Mend then , and doe euery ting like a Lady , heereafter , neuer know ty husband , from another man .

KNO.

Nor any one man from another , but i' the darke .

WHI.

I , and then it ish no dishgrash to know any man .

VRS.

Helpe , helpe here .

KNO.

How now ? what vapour 's there ?

VRS.

O , you are a sweet Ranger ! and looke well to your walks . Yonder is your Punque of Turnbull , Ramping Ales , has falne vpon the poore Gentlewoman within , and pull'd her hood ouer her eares , Alice eners , beating he Iustice's wife . and her hayre through it .

OVE.

Helpe , helpe , i' the Kings name .

ALE.

A mischiefe on you , they are such as you are , that vndoe vs , and take our trade from vs , with your tuft-taffata hanches .

KNO.

How now Alice !

ALE.

The poore common whores can ha' no traffique , for the priuy rich ones ; your caps and hoods of veluet , call away our customers , and lick the fat from vs.

VRS.

Peace you foule ramping Iade , you —

ALE.

Od's foote , you Bawd in greace , are you talking ?

KNO.

Why , Alice , I say .

ALE.

Thou Sow of Smithfield , thou .

VRS.

Thou tripe of Turnebull .

KNO.

Cat-a-mountaine-vapours ! ha !

VRS.

You know where you were taw'd lately , both lash'd , and slash'd you were in Bridewell .

ALE.

I , by the same token , you rid that weeke , and broake out the bottome o' the Cart , Night-tub .

KNO.

Why , Lyon face ! ha ! doe you know who I am ? shall I teare ruffe , slit wastcoat , make ragges of petticoat ? ha ! goe to , vanish , for feare of vapours . Whit , a kick , Whit , in the parting vapour . Come braue woman , take a good heart , thou shalt be a Lady , too .

WHI.

Yes fait , dey shal all both be Ladies , and write Madame . I vill do 't my selfe for dem . Doe , is the vord , and D is the middle letter of Madame , D D , put 'hem together , and make deeds , without which , all words are alike , la.

KNO.

'T is true , Vrsla , take 'hem in , open thy wardrope , and fit 'hem to their calling . Greene-gownes , Crimson-petticoats , green women ! my Lord Maiors green women ! guests o' the Game , true bred . I 'le prouide you a Coach , to take the ayre , in .

WIN.

But doe you thinke you can get one ?

KNO.

O , they are as common as wheelebarrowes , where there are great dunghills . Euery Pettifoggers wife , has 'hem , for first he buyes a Coach , that he may marry , and then hee marries that hee may be made Cuckold in 't : For if their wiues ride not to their Cuckolding , they doe 'hem no credit . Hide , and be hidden ; ride , and be ridden , sayes the vapour of experience .

ACT. IIIJ. SCENE . VI. TROBLE-ALL . KNOCKHVM . WHIT . QVARLOVS . EDGWORTH . BRISTLE . WASPE. HAGGISE . IVSTICE . BVSY. PVRE-CRAFT .

BY what warrant do's it say so ?

KNO.

Ha! mad child o' the Pye-pouldres , art thou there ? fill vs a fresh kan , Vrs , wee may drinke together .

TRO.

I may not drinke without a warrant , Captaine .

KNO.

S'lood , thou 'll not stale without a warant , shortly . Whit , Giue mee pen , inke and paper . I 'l draw him a warrant presently .

TRO.

It must be Iustice Ouerdoo's ?

KNO.

I know , man , Fetch the drinke , Whit.

WHI.

I pre dee now , be very briefe , Captaine ; for de new Ladies stay for dee .

KNO.

O , as briefe as can be , here 't is already . Adam Ouerdoo .

TRO.

Why , now , I 'le pledge you , Captaine .

KNO.

Drinke it off . I 'll come to thee , anone , againe .

QVA.

Well , Sir . You are now discharg'd : Quarlous to the Cutpurse . beware of being spi'd , hereafter .

EDG.

Sir , will it please you , enter in here , at Vrsla's ; and take part of a silken gowne , a veluet petticoate , or a wrought smocke ; I am promis'd such : and I can spare any Gentleman a moity .

QVA.

Keepe it for your companions in beastlinesse , I am none of 'hem , Sir . If I had not already forgiuen you a greater trespasse , or thought you yet worth my beating , I would instruct your manners , to whom you made your offers . But goe your wayes , talke not to me , the hangman is onely fit to discourse with you ; the hand of Beadle is too mercifull a punishment for your Trade of life . I am sorry I employ'd this fellow ; for he thinks me such : Facinus quos inquinat , aequat . But , it was for sport . And would I make it serious , the getting of this Licence is nothing to me , without other circumstances concurre . I do thinke how impertinently I labour , if the word bee not mine , that the ragged fellow mark'd : And what aduantage I haue giuen Ned Win-wife in this time now , of working her , though it be mine . Hee 'll go neare to forme to her what a debauch'd Rascall I am , and fright her out of all good conceipt of me : I should doe so by him , I am sure , if I had the opportunity . But my hope is in her temper , yet ; and it must needs bee next to despaire , that is grounded on any part of a woman's discretion . I would giue by my troth , now , all I could spare ( to my cloathes , and my sword ) to meete my tatter'd sooth-sayer againe , who was my iudge i'rhe question , to know certainly whose word he has damn'd or sau'd . For , till then , I liue but vnder a Repreiue . I must seeke him . Who be these ?

WAS.

Ent Waspe with the officers . Sir , you are a welsh Cuckold , and a prating Runt , and no Constable .

BRI.

You say very well . Come put in his legge in the middle roundell , and let him hole there .

WAS.

You stinke of leeks , Metheglyn , and cheese . You Rogue .

BRI.

Why , what is that to you , if you sit sweetly in the stocks in the meane time ? if you haue a minde to stinke too , your breeches sit close enough to your bumm . Sit you merry , Sir .

QVA

How now , Numps ?

WAS.

It is no matter , how ; pray you looke off .

QVA.

Nay I 'll not offend you , Numps . I thought you had sate there to be seen .

WAS.

And to be sold , did you not ? pray you mind your businesse , an' you haue any .

QVA.

Cry you mercy , Numps . Do's your leg lie high enough ?

BRI.

How now , neighbour Haggise , what sayes Iustice Ouerdo's worship , to the other offenders ?

HAG.

Why , hee sayes iust nothing , what should hee say ? Or where should he say ? He is not to be found , Man . He ha' not been seen i' the Fayre , here , all this liue-long day , neuer since seuen a clocke i' the morning . His Clearks know not what to thinke on 't . There is no Court of Pie-poulders yet . Heere they be return'd .

BRI.

What shall be done with 'hem , then ? in your discretion ?

HAG.

I thinke wee were best put 'hem in the stocks , in discretion ( there they will be safe in discretion ) for the valour of an houre , or such a thing , till his worship come . As they opén the stockes , Waspe puts his shooe on his hand , and slips it in for his legge .

BRI

It is but a hole matter , if wee doe , Neighbour Haggise , come , Sir , heere is company for you , heaue vp the stocks .

WAS.

I shall put a tricke vpon your welsh diligence , perhaps .

BRI.

Put in your legge , Sir .

QVA.

What , Rabby Busy ! is hee come ?

BVS.

I doe obey thee , the Lyon may roare , but he cannot bite . They bring Busy , and put him in . I am glad to be thus separated from the heathen of the land , and put a part in the stocks , for the holy cause .

WAS.

What are you , Sir ?

BVS.

One that reioyceth in his affliction , and sitteth here to prophesie , the destruction of Fayres and May-games , Wakes , and Whitson-ales , and doth sigh and groane for the reformation , of these abuses .

WAS.

And doe you sigh , and groane too , or reioyce in your affliction ?

IVS.

I doe not feele it , I doe not thinke of it , it is a thing without mee : Adam , thou art aboue these battries , these contumelies . In te manca ruit fortuna , as thy friend Horace saies ; thou art one , Quem neque pauperies , neque mors , neque vincula terrent , . And therefore as another friend of thine saies , ( I thinke it be thy friend Persius ) Non te quaesiueris extra .

QVA.

What 's heere ! a Stoick i' the stocks ? the Foole is turn'd Philosopher .

BVS.

Friend , I will leaue to communicate my spirit with you , if I heare any more of those superstitious reliques , those lists of Latin , the very tags of Rome ▪ and patches of Poperie .

WAS.

Nay , an' you begin to quarrel , Gentlemen , I 'll leaue you . I ha' paid for quarrelling too lately : looke you , a deuice , He gets out . but shifting in a hand for a foot . God b'w'you .

BVS.

Wilt thou then leaue thy brethren in tribulation ?

WAS.

For this once , Sir .

BVS.

Thou art a halting Neutrall stay him there , stop him : that will not endure the heat of persecution .

BRI.

How now , what 's the matter ?

BVS.

Hee is fled , he is fled , and dares not sit it out .

BRI.

What , has he made an escape , which way ? follow , neighbour Haggise .

PVR.

O me ! in the stocks ! haue the wicked preuail'd ?

BVS.

Peace religious sister , it is my calling , comfort your selfe , an extraordinary calling , and done for my better standing , my surer standing , hereafter .

TRO.

By whose warrant , by whose warrant , this ? The mad-man enters .

QVA.

O , here 's my man ! dropt in , I look'd for .

IVS.

Ha!

PVR.

O good Sir , they haue set the faithfull , here to be wonder'd at ; and prouided holes , for the holy of the land .

TRO.

Had they warrant for it ? shew'd they Iusticce Ouerdoo's hand ? if they had no warrant , they shall answer it .

BRI.

Sure you did not locke the stocks sufficiently , neighbour Toby !

HAG.

No! see if you can lock 'hem better .

BRI.

They are very sufficiently lock'd , and truely , yet some thing is in the mater .

TRO.

True , your warrant is the matter that is in question , by what warrant ?

BRI.

Mad man , hold your peace , I will put you in his roome else , in the very same hole , doe you see ?

QVA.

How ! is hee a mad-man !

TRO.

Shew me Iustice Ouerdoo's warrant . I obey you .

HAG.

You are a mad foole , hold your tongue .

TRO.

Shewes his Kanne . In Iustice Ouerdoo's name , I drinke to you , and here 's my warrant .

IVS.

Alas poore wretch ! how it earnes my heart for him !

QVA.

If hee be mad , it is in vaine to question him . I 'le try though , friend : there was a Gentlewoman , shew'd you two names , some houre since , Argalus and Palemon , to marke in a booke , which of 'hem was it you mark'd ?

TRO.

I marke no name , but Adam Ouerdoo , that is the name of names , hee onely is the sufficient Magistrate ; and that name I reuerence , shew it mee .

QVA.

This fellowes madde indeede : I am further off , now , then afore .

IVS.

I shall not breath in peace , till I haue made him some amends .

QVA.

Well , I will make another vse of him , is come in my head : I haue a nest of beards in my Truncke , one some thing like his .

BRI.

The watchmen come back againe . The mad-man fights with 'hem , and they leaue open the stocks . This mad foole has made mee that I know not whether I I haue lock'd the stocks or no , I thinke I lock'd 'hem .

TRO.

Take Adam Ouerdoo in your minde , and feare nothing .

BRI.

S'lid , madnesse it selfe , hold thy peace , and take that .

TRO.

Strikest thou without a warrant ? take thou that .

BVS.

Wee are deliuered by miracle ; fellow in fetters , let vs not refuse the meanes , this madnesse was of the spirit : The malice of the enemy hath mock'd it selfe .

PVR.

Mad doe they call him ! the world is mad in error , but hee is mad in truth : I loue him o' the sudden , ( the cunning man sayd all true ) and shall loue him more , and more . How well it becomes a man to be mad in truth ! O , that I might be his yoake-fellow , and be mad with him , what a many should wee draw to madnesse in truth , with vs !

BRI.

How now ! all scap'd ? where 's the woman ? it is witchcraft ! The watch missing them are affrighted . Her veluet hat is a witch , o' my conscience , or my key ! t 'one . The mad-man was a Diuell , and I am an Asse ; so blesse me , my place , and mine office .

ACT. V. SCENE . I. LANTHORNE . FILCHER . SHARKWEL .

WEll , Lucke and Saint Bartholmew ; out with the signe of our inuention , in the name of Wit , and do you beat the Drum , the while ; All the fowle i' the Fayre , I meane , all the dirt in Smithfield , ( that 's one of Master Littlewit's Carwhitchets now ) will be throwne at our Banner to day , if the matter do's not please the people . O the Motions , that I Lanthorne Leatherhead haue giuen light to , i' my time , since my Master Pod dyed ! Ierusalem was a stately thing ; and so was Niniue , and the citty of Norwich , and Sodom and Gomorrah ; Pod was a Master of motions before him . with the rising o' the prentises ; and pulling downe the bawdy houses there , vpon Shroue-Tuesday ; but the Gunpowder-plot , there was a get-penny ! I haue presented that to an eighteene , or twenty pence audience , nine times in an afternoone . Your home-borne proiects proue euer the best , they are so easie , and familiar , they put too much learning i' their things now o'dayes : and that I feare will be the spoile o' this . Little-wit ? I say , Mickle-wit ! if not too mickle ! looke to your gathering there , good man Filcher .

FIL.

I warrant you , Sir .

LAN.

And there come any Gentlefolks , take two pence a piece , Sharkwell .

SHA.

I warrant you , Sir , three pence , an 'we can .

ACT. V. SCENE . II. IVSTICE . WIN-WIFE . GRACE . QVARLOVS . PVRE-CRAFT .

The Iustice comes in like a Porter . THis later disguise , I haue borrow'd of a Porter , shall carry me out to all my great and good ends ; which how euer interrupted , were neuer destroyed in me : neither is the houre of my seuerity yet come , to reueale my selfe , wherein cloud-like , I will breake out in raine , and haile , lightning , and thunder , vpon the head of enormity . Two maine works I haue to prosecute : first , one is to inuent some satisfaction for the poore , kinde wretch , who is out of his wits for my sake , and yonder I see him comming , I will walke aside , and proiect for it .

WIN.

I wonder where Tom Quarlous is , that hee returnes not , it may be he is strucke in here to seeke vs.

GRA.

See , heere 's our mad-man againe .

QVA.

I haue made my selfe as like him , as his gowne , and cap will giue me leaue . Quarlous in the habit of the mad-man is mistaken by Mrs Pure-craft .

PVR.

Sir , I loue you , and would be glad to be mad with you in truth .

WIN-W.

How ! my widdow in loue with a mad-man ?

PVR.

Verily , I can be as mad in spirit , as you .

QVA.

By whose warrant ? leaue your canting . Gentlewoman , haue I found you ? ( saue yee , quit yee , and multiply yee ) where 's your booke ? He desires to see the booke of Mistresse Grace . 't was a sufficient name I mark'd , let me see 't , be not afraid to shew 't me .

GRA.

What would you with it , Sir ?

QVA.

Marke it againe , and againe , at your seruice .

GRA.

Heere it is , Sir , this was it you mark'd .

QVA.

Palemon ? fare you well , fare you well .

WIN-W.

How , Palemon !

GRA.

Yes faith , hee has discouer'd it to you , now , and therefore 't were vaine to disguise it longer , I am yours , Sir , by the benefit of your fortune .

WIN-W.

And you haue him Mistresse , beleeue it , that shall neuer giue you cause to repent her benefit , but make you rather to thinke that in this choyce , she had both her eyes .

GRA.

I desire to put it to no danger of protestation .

QVA.

Palemon , the word , and Win-wife the man ?

PVR.

Good Sir , vouchsafe a yoakefellow in your madnesse , shun not one of the sanctified sisters , that would draw with you , in truth .

QVA.

Away , you are a heard of hypocriticall proud Ignorants , rather wilde , then mad . Fitter for woods , and the society of beasts then houses , and the congregation of men . You are the second part of the society of Canters , Outlawes to order and Discipline , and the onely priuiledg'd Church-robbers of Christendome . Let me alone . Palemon , the word , and Winwife the man ?

PVR.

I must vncouer my selfe vnto him , or I shall neuer enioy him , for all the cunning mens promises . Good Sir , heare mee , I am worth sixe thousand pound , my loue to you , is become my racke , I 'll tell you all , and the truth : since you hate the hyporisie of the party-coloured brother-hood . These seuen yeeres , I haue beene a wilfull holy widdow , onely to draw feasts , and gifts from my intangled suitors : I am also by office , an assisting sister of the Deacons , and a deuourer , in stead of a distributer of the alms . I am a speciall maker of marriages for our decayed Brethren , with our rich widdowes ; for a third part of their wealth , when they are marryed , for the reliefe of the poore elect : as also our poore handsome yong Virgins , with our wealthy Batchelors , or Widdowers ; to make them steale from their husbands , when I haue confirmed them in the faith ; and got all put into their custodies . And if I ha' not my bargaine , they may sooner turne a scolding drab , in to a silent Minister , then make me leaue pronouncing reprobation , and damnation vnto them . Our elder , Zeale-of-the-land , would haue had me , but I know him to be the capitall Knaue of the land , making himselfe rich , by being made Feoffee in trust to deceased Brethren , and coozning their heyres , by swearing the absolute gift of their inheritance . And thus hauing eas'd my conscience , and vtter'd my heart , with the tongue of my loue : enioy all my deceits together . I beseech you . I should not haue reuealed this to you , but that in time I thinke you are mad , and I hope you 'll thinke mee so too , Sir ?

QVA.

Stand aside , I 'le answer you , presently . He consider with himselfe of it . Why should not I marry this sixe thousand pound , now I thinke on 't ? and a good trade too , that shee has beside , ha ? The tother wench , Winwife , is sure of ; there 's no expectation for me there ! here I may make my selfe some sauer , yet , if shee continue mad , there 's the question . It is money that I want , why should I not marry the money , when 't is offer'd mee ? I haue a License and all , it is but razing out one name , and putting in another . There 's no playing with a man's fortune ! I am resolu'd ! I were truly mad , an' I would not ! well , come your wayes , follow mee , an' you will be mad , He takes her along with him . I 'll shew you a warrant !

PVR.

Most zealously , it is that I zealously desire .

IVS.

Sir , let mee speake with you . The Iustice calls him .

QVA.

By whose warrant ?

IVS.

The warrant that you tender , and respect so ; Iustice Ouerdoo's ! I am the man , friend Trouble-all , though thus disguis'd ( as the carefull Magistrate ought ) for the good of the Republique , in the Fayre , and the weeding out of enormity . Doe you want a house or meat , or drinke , or cloathes ? speake whatsoeuer it is , it shall be supplyed you , what want you ?

QVA.

Nothing but your warrant .

IVS.

My warrant ? for what ?

QVA.

To be gone , Sir .

IVS.

Nay , I pray thee stay , I am serious , and haue not many words , nor much time to exchange with thee ; thinke what may doe thee good .

QVA.

Your hand and seale , will doe me a great deale of good ; nothing else in the whole Fayre , that I know .

IVS.

If it were to any end , thou should'st haue it willingly .

QVA.

Why , it will satisfie me , that 's end enough , to looke on ; an' you will not gi' it mee , let me goe .

IVS.

Alas ! thou shalt ha' it presently ▪ I 'll but step into the Scriueners , The Iustice goes out . hereby , and bring it . Doe not go away .

QVA.

Why , this mad mans shape , will proue a very fortunate one , I thinke ! can a ragged robe produce these effects ? if this be the wise Iustice , and he bring mee his hand , I shall goe neere to make some vse on 't . and returns . Hee is come already !

IVS.

Looke thee ! heere is my hand and seale , Adam Ouerdoo , if there be any thing to be written , aboue in the paper , that thou want'st now , or at any time hereafter ; thinke on 't ; it is my deed , I deliuer it so , can your friend write ?

QVA.

Hee vrgeth Mistresse Purecraft . Her hand for a witnesse , and all is well .

IVS.

With all my heart .

QVA.

Why should not I ha' the conscience , to make this a bond of a thousand pound ? now , or what I would else ?

IVS.

Looke you , there it is ; and I deliuer it as my deede againe .

QVA.

Let vs now proceed in madnesse .

IVS.

He takes her in with him . Well , my conscience is much eas'd ; I ha' done my part , though it doth him no good , yet Adam hath offer'd satisfaction ! The sting is remoued from hence : poore man , he is much alter'd with his affliction , it has brought him low ! Now , for my other worke , reducing the young man ( I haue follow'd so long in loue ) from the brinke of his bane , to the center of safety . Here , or in some such like vaine place , I shall be sure to finde him . I will waite the good time .

ACT. V. SCENE . IIJ. COKES . SHAKRWEL . IVSTICE . FILCHER . IOHN . LANTERNE .

HOw now ? what 's here to doe ? friend , art thou the Master of the Monuments ?

SHA.

'T is a Motion , an 't please your worship ,

IVS.

My phantasticall brother in Law , Master Bartholmew Cokes !

COK.

A Motion , what 's that ? He reads the Bill . The ancient moderne history of Hero , and Leander , otherwise called The Touchstone of true Loue , with as true a tryall of friendship , betweene Damon , and Pithias , two faithfull friends o' the Bankside ? pretty i'faith , what 's the meaning on 't ? is 't an Enterlude ? or what is 't ?

FIL.

Yes Sir , please you come neere , wee 'll take your money within .

COK.

Backe with these children ; The boyes o' the Fayre follow him . they doe so follow mee vp and downe .

IOH.

By your leaue , friend .

FIL.

You must pay , Sir , an' you goe in .

IOH.

Who , I ? I perceiue thou know'st not mee : call the Master o' the Motion .

SHA

What , doe you not know the Author , fellow Filcher ? you must take no money of him ; he must come in gratis : Mr. Little-wit is a voluntary ; he is the Author .

IOH.

Peace , speake not too lowd , I would not haue any notice taken , that I am the Author , till wee see how it passes .

COK.

Master Littlewit , how do'st thou ?

IOH.

Master Cokes ! you are exceeding well met : what , in your doublet , and hose , without a cloake , or a hat ?

COK.

I would I might neuer stirre , as I am an honest man , and by that fire ; I haue lost all i' the Fayre , and all my acquaintance too ; did'st thou meet any body that I know , Master Littlewit ? my man Numps , or my sister Ouerdoo , or Mistresse Grace ? pray thee Master Littlewit , lend mee some money to see the Interlude , here . I 'le pay thee againe , as I am a Gentleman . If thou 'lt but carry mee home , I haue money enough there .

IOH.

O , Sir , you shall command it , what , will a crowne serue you ?

COK.

I think it well , what do we pay for comming in , fellowes ?

FIL.

Two pence , Sir .

COK.

Two pence ? there 's twelue pence , friend ; Nay , I am a Gallant , as simple as I looke now ; if you see mee with my man about me , and my Artillery , againe .

IOH.

Your man was i' the Stocks , ee'n now , Sir .

COK.

Who , Numps ?

IOH.

Yes faith .

COK.

For what i' faith , I am glad o' that ; remember to tell me on 't anone ; I haue enough , now ! What manner of matter is this , Mr. Littlewit ? What kind of Actors ha' you ? Are they good Actors ?

IOH.

Pretty youthes , Sir , all children both old and yong , heer 's the Master of 'hem —

( LAN.

Leatherhead whispers to Littl-wit . Call me not Leatherhead , but Lanterne . )

IOH.

Master Lanterne , that giues light to the businesse ,

COK.

In good time , Sir , I would faine see 'hem , I would be glad drinke with the young company ; which is the Tiring-house ?

LAN.

Troth , Sir , our Tiring-house is somewhat little , we are but beginners , yet , pray pardon vs ; you cannot goe vpright in 't .

COK.

No ? not now my hat is off ? what would you haue done with me , if you had had me , feather , and all , as I was once to day ? Ha' you none of your pretty impudent boyes , now ; to bring stooles , fill Tabacco , fetch Ale , and beg money , as they haue at other houses ? let me see some o' your Actors .

ION.

Shew him 'hem , shew him 'hem . Master Lanterne , this is a Gentleman , that is a fauorer of the quality .

IVS.

I , the fauouring of this licencious quality , is the consumption of many a young Gentleman ; a pernicious enormity .

COK.

What , doe they liue in baskets ?

LEA.

He brings them out in a basket . They doe lye in a basket , Sir , they are o' the small Players .

COK.

These be Players minors , indeed . Doe you call these Players ?

LAN.

They are Actors , Sir , and as good as any , none disprais'd , for dumb showes : indeed , I am the mouth of 'hem all !

COK.

Thy mouth will hold 'hem all . I thinke , one Taylor , would goe neere to beat all this company , with a hand bound behinde him .

IOH.

I , and eate 'hem all , too , an' they were in cake-bread .

COK.

I thanke you for that , Master Littlewit , a good iest ! which is your Burbage now ?

LAN.

What meane you by that , Sir ?

COK.

Your best Actor . Your Field ?

IOH.

Good ifaith ! you are euen with me , Sir .

LAN.

This is he , that acts young Leander , Sir . He is extreamly belou'd of the womenkind , they doe so affect his action , the green gamesters , that come here , and this is louely Hero ; this with the beard , Damon ; and this pretty Pythias : this is the ghost of King Dionysius in the habit of a scriuener : as you shall see anone , at large .

COK.

Well they are a ciuill company , I like 'hem for that ; they offer not to fleere , nor geere , nor breake iests , as the great Players doe : And then , there goes not so much charge to the feasting of 'hem , or making 'hem drunke , as to the other , by reason of their littlenesse . Doe they vse to play perfect ? Are they neuer fluster'd ?

LAN.

No , Sir , I thanke my industry , and policy for it ; they are as well gouern'd a company , though I say it — And here is young Leander , is as proper an Actor of his inches ; and shakes his head like an hostler·

COK

But doe you play it according to the printed booke ? I haue read that .

LAN.

By no meanes , Sir .

COK.

No ? How then ?

LAN.

A better way , Sir , that is too learned , and poeticall for our audience ; what doe they know what Hellespont is ? Guilty of true loues blood ? or what Abidos is ? or the other Sestos height ?

COK.

Th' art i' the right , I doe not know my selfe .

LAN.

No , I haue entreated Master Littlewit , to take a little paines to reduce it to a more familiar straine for our people .

COK.

How , I pray thee , good Mr Littlewit .

IOH.

It pleases him to make a matter of it , Sir . But there is no such matter I assure you : I haue onely made it a little easie , and moderne for the times , Sir , that 's all ; As , for the Hellespont I imagine our Thames here ; and then Leander , I make a Diers sonne , about Puddle-wharfe : and Hero a wench o' the Banke-side , who going ouer one morning , to old fish-street ; Leander spies her land at Trigsstayres , and falls in loue with her : Now do I introduce Cupid , hauing Metamorphos'd himselfe into a Drawer , and he strikes Hero in loue with a pint of Sherry , and other pretty passages there are , o' the friendship , that will delight you , Sir , and please you of Iudgement .

COK.

I 'll be sworne they shall ; I am in loue with the Actors already , and I 'le be allyed to them presently . ( They respect gentlemen , these fellowes ) Hero shall be my fayring : But , which of my fayrin●s ? ( Le' me see ) i' faith , my fiddle ! and Leander my fiddle-sticke : Then Damon , my Drum ; and Pythias , my Pipe and the ghost of Dionysius , my hobby-horse . All fitted .

ACT. V. SCENE . IV. To them WIN-WIFE . GRACE . KNOCKHVM . WHITT . EDGWORTH . WIN. Mistris OVERDOO . And to them WASPE .

Looke yonder 's your Cokes gotten in among his play-fellowes ; I thought we could not misse him , at such a Spectacle .

GRA.

Let him alone , he is so busie , he will neuer spie vs.

LEA.

Nay , good Sir .

COK.

Cokes is handling the Puppets . I warrant thee , I will not hurt her , fellow ; what dost think me vnciuill ? I pray thee be not iealous : I am toward a wife .

IOH.

Well good Master Lanterne , make ready to begin , that I may fetch my wife , and looke you be perfect , you vndoe me else , i' my reputation .

LAN.

I warrant you Sir , doe not you breed too great an expectation of it , among your friends : that 's the onely hurter of these things .

IOH.

No , no , no.

COK.

I 'll stay here , and see ; pray thee let me see .

WIN-W.

How diligent and troublesome he is !

GRA.

The place becomes him , me thinkes .

IVS.

My ward , Mistresse Grace in the company of a stranger ? I doubt I shall be compell'd to discouer my selfe , before my time !

FIL.

The doore-keepers speake . Two pence a piece Gentlemen , an excellent Motion .

KNO.

Shall we haue fine fire-works , and good vapours !

SHA.

Yes Captaine , and water-works , too .

WHI.

I pree dee , take a care o 'dy shmall Lady , there , Edgworth ; I will looke to dish tall Lady my selfe .

LAN.

Welcome Gentlemen , welcome Gentlemen .

WHI.

Predee , Mashter o 'de Monshtersh , helpe a very sicke Lady , here , to a chayre , to shit in .

LAN.

Presently , Sir .

WHI.

They bring Mistris Ouerdoo a chayre . Good fait now , Vrsla's Ale , and Aqua-vitae ish to blame for 't ; shit downe shweet heart , shit downe , and shleep a little .

EDG.

Madame , you are very welcom hither .

KNO.

Yes , and you shall see very good vapours .

IVS.

Here is my care come ! I like to see him in so good company ; By Edgeworth . and yet I wonder that persons of such fashion , should resort hither !

EDG.

This is a very priuate house , Madame . The Cutpurse courts Mistresse Littlewit .

LAN.

Will it please your Ladiship sit , Madame ?

WIN.

Yes good-man . They doe so all to be Madame mee , I thinke they thinke me a very Lady !

EDG.

What else Madame ?

WIN.

Must I put off my masque to him ?

EDG.

O , by no meanes .

WIN.

How should my husband know mee , then ?

KNO.

Husband ? an idle vapour ; he must not know you , nor you him ; there 's the true vapour .

IVS

Yea , I will obserue more of this : is this a Lady , friend ?

WHI.

I , and dat is anoder Lady , shweet heart ; if dou hasht a minde to 'hem giue me twelue pence from tee , and dou shalt haue oder-oder on 'hem !

IVS.

I ? This will prooue my chiefest enormity : I will follow this .

EDG ,

Is not this a finer life , Lady , then to be clogg'd with a husband ?

WIN.

Yes , a great deale . When will they beginne , trow ? in the name o' the Motion ?

EDG.

By and by Madame , they stay but for company .

KNO.

Doe you heare , Puppet . Master , these are tedious vapours ; when begin you ?

LAN.

We stay but for Master Littlewit , the Author , who is gone for his wife ; and we begin presently .

WIN.

That 's I , that 's I.

EDG.

That was you , Lady ; but now you are no such poore thing .

KNO.

Hang the Authors wife , a running vapour ! here be Ladies , will stay for nere a Delia o 'hem all .

WHI.

But heare mee now , heere ish one o 'de Ladish , a shleep , stay till shee but vake man .

WAS.

How now friends ? what 's heere to doe ?

FIL.

Two pence a piece , Sir , the best Motion , in the Fayre . The doore-keepers againe .

WAS.

I beleeue you lye ; if you doe , I 'll haue my money againe , and beat you .

WIN.

Numps is come !

WAS.

Did you see a Master of mine , come in here , a tall yong Squire of Harrow o' the Hill ; Master Bartholmew Cokes ?

FIL.

I thinke there be such a one , within .

WAS.

Looke hee be , you were best : but it is very likely : I wonder I found him not at all the rest . I ha' beene at the Eagle , and the blacke Wolfe , and the Bull with the fiue legges , and two pizzles ; ( hee was a Calfe at Vxbridge Fayre , two yeeres agone ) And at the dogges that daunce the Morrice , and the Hare o' the Taber ; and mist him at all these ! Sure this must needs be some fine sight , that holds him so , if it haue him .

COK.

Come , come , are you readie now ?

LAN.

Presently , Sir .

WAS.

Hoyday , hee 's at worke in his Dublet , and hose ; doe you heare , Sir ? are you imploy'd ? that you are bare-headed , and so busie ?

COK.

Hold your peace , Numpes ; you ha' beene i' the stocks , I heare .

WAS.

Do's he know that ? nay , then the date of my Authority is out ; I must thinke no longer to raigne , my gouernment is at an end . He that will correct another , must want fault himselfe .

WIN-W.

Sententious Numpes ! I neuer heard so much from him , before .

LAN.

Sure , Master Littlewit will not come ; please you take your place , Sir , wee 'll beginne .

COK.

I pray thee doe , mine eares long to be at it ; and my eyes too . O Numpes , i' the stocks , Numps ? where 's your sword , Numps ?

WAS.

I pray intend your game , Sir , let mee alone .

COK.

Well , then we are quit for all . Come , sit downe , Numps ; I 'le interpret to thee : did you see Mistresse Grace ? it's no matter , neither , now , I thinke on 't , tell me anon .

WIN-W.

A great deale of loue , and care hee expresses .

GRA.

Alas ! would you haue him expresse more then hee has ? that were tyranny .

COK.

Peace , ho ; now , now .

LAN. Gentles , that no longer your expectations may wander , Behold our chiefe Actor , amorous Leander . With a great deale of cloth lap'd about him like a Scarfe , For he yet serues his father , a Dyer at Puddle wharfe , Which place wee 'll make bold with , to call our Abidus , As the Banke-side is our Sestos , and let it not be deny'd vs. Now , as hee is beating , to make the Dye take the fuller , Who chances to come by , but faire Hero , in a Sculler ; And seeing Leanders naked legge , and goodly calfe , Cast at him , from the boat , a Sheepes eye , and a halfe . Now she is landed , and the Sculler come backe ; By and by , you shall see what Leander doth lacke . PVP. L.

Cole , Cole , old Cole .

LAN.

That 's the Scullers name without controle :

PVP. L.

Cole , Cole , I say , Cole .

LAN.

Wee doe heare you .

PVP. L.

Old Cole .

LAN.

Old Cole ? is the Dyer turn'd Collier ? how doe you sell ?

PVP. L.

A pox o' you manners , kisse my hole here and smell .

LAN.

Kisse your hole and smell ? there 's manners indeed .

PVP. L.

Why , Cole , I say Cole .

LAN.

It 's the Sculler you need !

PVP. L.

I , and be hang'd .

LAN. Be hang'd ; looke you yonder , Old Cole , you must go hang with Master Leander . PVP. C.

Where is he ?

PVP. L. Here , Cole , what fayerest of Fayers , was that fare , that thou landedst but now a Trigsstayres ? COK.

What was that , fellow ? Pray thee tell me , I scarse vnderstand 'hem .

LAN. Leander do's aske , Sir , what fayrest of Fayers , Was the fare thhe landed , but now , at Trigsstayers ? PVP. C.

It is lovely Hero .

PVP. L.

Nero ?

PVP. C.

No , Hero .

LAN. It is Hero . Of the Bankside , he saith , to tell you truthwith out erring , Is come ouer into Fish-street to eat some fresh herring . Leander sayes no more , but as fast as he can , Gets on all his best cloathes ; and will after to the Swan . COK.

Most admirable good , is 't not ?

LAN.

Stay , Sculler .

PVP. C.

What say you ?

LAN. You must stay for Leander , and carry him to the wench . PVP. C.

You Rogue , I am no Pandar .

COK.

He sayes he is no Pandar . 'T is a fine language ; I vnderstand it , now .

LAN. Are you no Pandar , Goodman Cole ? heer 's no man sayes you are , You 'll grow a hot Cole , it seemes , pray you stay for your fare . PVP. C.

Will hee come away ?

LAN.

What doe you say ?

PVP. C.

I 'de ha' him come away .

LEA. Would you ha' Leander come away ? why 'pray' Sir , stay . You are angry , Goodman Cole ; I beleeue the faire Mayd Came ouer w' you a' trust : tell vs Sculler , are you paid . PVP. C.

Yes Goodman Hogrubber , o' Pickt-hatch .

LAV :

How , Hogrubber , o' Pickt-hatch ?

PVP. C.

I Hogrubber o' Pickt-hatch . Take you that .

LAN.

O , my head ! The Puppet strikes him ouer the pate

PVP. C.

Harme watch , harme catch .

COK.

Harme watch , harme catch , he sayes : verygood i' faith , the Sculler had like to ha' knock'd you , sirrah .

LAN.

Yes , but that his fare call'd him away .

PVP. L.

Row apace , row apace , row , row , row , row , row .

LAN.

You are knauishly loaden , Sculler , take heed where you goe .

PVP. C.

Knaue i' your face , Goodman Rogue .

PVP. L.

Row , row , row , row , row , row .

COK.

Hee said knaue i' your face , friend .

LAN.

I Sir , I heard him . But there 's no talking to these water-men , they will ha' the last word

COK.

God's my life ! I am not allied to the Sculler , yet ; hee shall be Dauphin my boy . But my Fiddle-sticke do's fiddle in and out too much ; I pray thee speake to him , on 't : tell him , I would haue him tarry in my sight , more .

LAN.

I Pray you be content ; you 'll haue enough on him , Sir . Now gentles , I take it , here is none of you so stupid , but that you haue heard of a little god of loue , call'd Cupid . Who out of kindnes to Leander , hearing he but saw her , this present day and houre , doth turne himselfe to a Drawer . And because , he would haue their first meeting to be merry , he strikes Hero in loue to him , with a pint of Sherry . PVP. Leander goes into Mistris Hero's room Which he tells her , from amorous Leander is sent her , who after him , into the roome of Hero , doth venter .

PVP. Io:

A pint of sacke , score a pint of sacke , i' the Conney .

COK.

Sack ? you said but ee'n now it should be Sherry .

PVP. Io:

Why so it is ; sherry , sherry , sherry .

COK.

Sherry , sherry , sherry . By my troth he makes me merry . I must haue a name for Cupid , too . Let me see , thou mightst helpe me now , an' thou wouldest , Numps , at a dead lift , but thou art dreaming o' the stocks , still ! Do not thinke on 't , I haue forgot it : 't is but a nine dayes wonder , man ; let it not trouble thee .

WAS.

I would the stocks were about your necke , Sir ; condition I hung by the heeles in them , till the wonder were off from you , with all my heart .

COK.

Well said resolute Numps : but hearke you friend , where is the friendship , all this while , betweene my Drum , Damon ; and my Pipe , Pythias ?

LAN.

You shall see by and by , Sir ?

COK.

You thinke my Hobby-horse is forgotten , too ; no , I 'll see 'hem all enact before I go ; I shall not know which to loue best , else

KNO.

This Gallant has interrupting vapours , troublesome vapours , Whitt , puffe with him .

WHIT.

No , I pre dee , Captaine , let him alone . Hee is a Child i' faith , la ' .

LAN. Now gentles , to the freinds , who in number , are two , and lodg'd in that Ale-house , in which faire Hero do's doe . Damon ( ' for some kindnesse done him the last weeke ) is come faire Hero , in Fish-streete , this morning to seeke : Pythias do's smell the knauery of the meeting , and now you shall see their true friendly greeting . PVP. Pi.

You whore-masterly Slaue , you·

COK.

Whore-masterly slaue , you ? very friendly , & familiar , that .

PVP. Da. Whore-master i' thy face , Thou hast lien with her thy selfe , I 'll proue 't i' this place . COK.

Damon sayes Pythias has lien with her , himselfe , hee 'll prooue 't in this place .

LAN.

They are Whore-masters both , Sir , that 's a plaine case .

PVP. Pi.

You lye , like a Rogue .

LAN.

Doe I ly , like a Rogue ?

PVP. Pi.

A Pimpe , and a Scabbe .

LAN. A Pimpe , and a Scabbe ? I say between you , you haue both but one Drabbe . PVP. Da.

You lye againe .

LAN.

Doe I lye againe ?

PVP. Da.

Like a Rogue againe .

LAN.

Like a Rogue againe ?

PVP. Pi.

And you are a Pimpe , againe .

COK.

And you are a Pimpe againe , he sayes .

PVP. Da.

And a Scabbe , againe .

COK.

And a Scabbe againe , he sayes .

LAN. And I say againe , you are both whore-masters againe , They fight . and you haue both but one Drabbe againe . PVP. Da. Pi.

Do'st thou , do'st thou , do'st thou ?

man .

What , both at once ?

PVP. P.

Downe with him , Damon

PVP. D.

Pinke his guts , Pythias :

LAN. What , so malicious ? will ye murder me , Masters both , i' mine owne house ? COK.

Ho! well acted my Drum , well acted my Pipe , well acted still .

WAS.

Well acted , with all my heart .

LAN.

Hld , hold your hands

COK.

I , both your hands , for my sake ! for you ha' both donewell .

PVP. D.

Gramercy pure Pythias .

PVP. P.

Gramercy , Deare Damon .

COK.

Gramercy to you both , my Pipe , and my drum .

PVP. P. D.

Come now wee 'll together to breakfast to Hero .

LAN. 'T is well , you can now go to breakfast to Hero , you haue giuen mmy breakfast , with a hone and honero . COK.

How is 't friend , ha' they hurt thee ?

LAN.

O no!

Betweene you and I Sir , we doe but make show .

Thus Gentles you perceiue , without any deniall , 'twixt Damon and Pythias here , friendships true tryall . Though hourely they quarrell thus , and roare each with other , they fight you no more , then do's brother with brother . But friendly together , at the next man they meet , they let fly their anger as here you might see 't . COK.

Well , we haue seen 't , and thou hast felt it , whatsoeuer thou sayest , what 's next ? what 's next ?

LEA. This while young Leander , with faire Hero is drinking , and Hero growne drunke , to any mans thinking ! Yet was it not three pints of Sherry could flaw her . till Cupid distinguish'd like Ionas the Drawer , From vnder his apron , where his lechery lurkes , put loue in her Sacke . Now marke how it workes . PVP. H. O Leander Leander , my deare my deare Leander , I 'le for euer be thy goose , so thou 'lt be my gander ▪ COK.

Excellently well said , Fiddle , shee 'll euer be his goose , so hee 'll be her gander : was 't not so ?

LAN.

Yes , Sir , but marke his answer , now :

PVP. L. And sweetest of geese , before I goe to bed , I 'll swimme o're the Thames , my goose , thee to tread . COK.

Braue ! he will swimme o're the Thames , and tread his goose , too night , he sayes .

LAN.

I , peace , Sir , the 'll be angry , if they heare you eaues-dropping , now they are setting their match .

PVP. L. But lest the Thames should be dark , my goose , my deare friend , let thy window be prouided of a candles end . PVP. H. Feare not my gander , I protest , I should handle my matters very ill , if I had not a whole candle . PVP. L.

Well then , looke to 't , and kisse me to boote .

LAN. Now , heere come the friends againe , Pythias , aend Damon , Damon and Pythias enter . and vnder their clokes , they haue of Bacon , a gammon . PVP. P.

Drawer , fill some wine heere .

LAN. How , some wine there ? there 's company already , Sir , pray forbeare ! PVP. D.

'T is Hero .

LAN. Yes , but shee will not be taken , after ●acke , and fresh herring , with your Dunmow - bacon . PVP. P

You lye , it 's Westfabian .

LAN.

Westphalian you should say .

PVP. D.

Leander and Hero are kissing . If you hold not your peace , you are a Coxcombe , I would say .

PVP.

What 's here ? what 's here ? kisse , kisse , vpon kisse .

LAN.

I , Wherefore should they not ? what harme is in this ? 't is Mistresse Hero .

PVP. D.

Mistresse Hero's a whore .

LAN.

Is shee a whore ? keepe you quiet , or Sir Knaue out of dore .

PVP. D.

Knaue out of doore ?

PVP. H.

Yes , Knaue , out of doore .

PVP. D.

Heere the Puppets quarrell and fall together by the eares . Whore out of doore .

PVP. H.

I say , Knaue , out of doore .

PVP. D.

I say , whore , out of doore .

PVP. P.

Yea , so say I too .

PVP. H.

Kisse the whore o' the arse .

LAN. Now you ha' something to doe : you must kisse her o' the arse shee sayes : PVP. D. P.

So we will , so we will .

PVP. H.

O my hanches , O my hanches , hold , hold .

LAN. Stand'st thou still ? Leander , where art thou ? stand'st thou still like a sot , and not offer'st to breake both their heads with a pot ? See who 's at thine elbow , there ! Puppet Ionas and Cupid . PVP. I.

Vpon 'hem Leander , be not so stupid . They fight .

PVP· L.

You Goat-bearded slaue !

PVP. D.

You whore-master Knaue .

PVP. L.

Thou art a whore-master .

PVP. I.

Whore-masters all .

LAN.

See , Cupid with a word has tane vp the brawle .

KNO.

These be fine vapours !

COK.

By this good day they fight brauely ! doe they not , Numps ?

WAS.

Yes , they lack'd but you to be their second , all this while .

LAN. This tragicall encounter , falling out thus to busie vs , It raises vp the ghost of their friend Dionysius : Not like a Monarch , but the Master of a Schoole , in a Scriueners furr'd gowne , which shewes he is no foole . for therein he hath wit enough to keepe himselfe warme . O Damon he cries , and Pythias ; what harme , Hath poore Dionysius done you in his graue , That after his death , you should fall out thus , and raue , And call amorous Leander whore-master Knaue ? PVP. D.

I cannot , I will not , I promise you endure it .

ACT. V. SCENE . V. To them BVSY. BVS.

Downe with Dagon , downe with Dagon ; 't is I , will no longer endure your prophanations .

LAN.

What meane you , Sir ?

BVS.

I wil remoue Dagon there , I say , that Idoll , that heathenish Idoll , that remaines ( as I may say ) a beame , a very beame , not a beame of the Sunne , nor a beame of the Moone , nor a beame of a ballance , neither a house-beame , nor a Weauers beame , but a beame in the eye , in the eye of the brethren ; a very great beame , an exceeding great beame ; such as are your Stage-players , Rimers , and Morrise-dancers , who haue walked hand in hand , in contempt of the Brethren , and the Cause ; and beene borne out by instruments , of no meane countenance .

LAN.

Sir , I present nothing , but what is licens'd by authority .

BAS.

Thou art all license , euen licentiousnesse it selfe , Shimei !

LAN.

I haue the Master of the Reuell's haud for 't , Sir .

BVS.

The Master of Rebells hand , thou hast ; Satan's ! hold thy peace , thy scurrility shut vp thy mouth , thy profession is damnable , and in pleading for it , thou dost plead for Baal . I haue long opened my mouth wide , and gaped , I haue gaped as the oyster for the tide , after thy destruction : but cannot compasse it by sute , or dispute ; so that I looke for a bickering , ere long , and then a battell .

KNO.

Good Banbury-vapours .

COK.

Friend , you 'ld haue an ill match on 't , if you bicker with him here , though he be no man o' the fist , hee has friends that will goe to cuffes for him , Numps , will not you take our side ?

EDG.

Sir , it shall not need , in my minde , he offers him a fairer course , to end it by disputation ! hast thou nothing to say for thy selfe , in defence of thy quality ?

LAN.

Faith , Sir , I am not well studied in these controuersies , betweene the hypocrites and vs. But here 's one of my Motion , Puppet Donisius shall vndertake him , and I 'le venture the cause on 't .

COK.

Who ? my Hobby-horse ? will he dispute with him ?

LAN.

Yes , Sir , and make a Hobby-Asse of him , I hope .

COK.

That 's excellent ! indeed he lookes like the best scholler of 'hem all . Come , Sir , you must be as good as your word , now .

BVS.

I will not feare to make my spirit , and gifts knowne ! assist me zeale , fill me , fill me , hat is , make me full .

WIN-W.

What a desperate , prophane wretch is this ! is there any Ignorance , or impudence like his ? to call his zeale to fill him against a Puppet ?

QVA.

I know no fitter match , then a Puppet to commit with an Hypocrite !

BVS.

First , I say vnto thee , Idoll , thou hast no Calling .

PVP. D.

You lie , I am call'd Dionisius .

LAN.

The Motion sayes you lie , he is call'd Dionisius i the matter , and to that calling he answers .

BVS.

I meane no vocation , Idoll , no present lawfull Calling .

PVP. D.

Is yours a lawfull Calling ?

LAN.

The Motion asketh , if yours be a lawfull Calling ?

BVS.

Yes , mine is of the Spirit .

PVP. D.

Then Idoll is a lawfull Calling .

LAN.

He saies , then Idoll is a lawfull Calling ! for you call'd him Idoll , and your Calling is of the spirit .

COK.

Well disputed , Hobby-horse !

BVS.

Take not part with the wicked young Gallant . He neygheth and hinneyeth , all is but hinnying Sophistry . I call him Idoll againe . Yet , I say , his Calling , his Profession is prophane , it is prophane , Idoll .

PVP. D.

It is not prophane !

LAN.

It is not prophane , he sayes ▪

BVS.

It is prophane .

PVP.

It is not prophane .

BVS.

It is prophane .

PVP.

It is not prophane .

LAN

Well said , confute him with not , still . You cannot beare him downe with your base noyse , Sir .

BVS.

Nor he me , with his treble creeking , though he creeke like the chariot wheeles of Satan ; I am zealous for the Cause —

LAN.

As a dog for a bone .

BVS.

And I say , it is prophane , as being the Page of Pride , and the waiting woman of vanity .

PVP. D.

Yea ? what say you to your Tire-women , then ?

LAN.

Good .

PVP.

Or feather-makers i' the Fryers , that are o' your faction of faith ? Are not they with their perrukes , and their puffes , their fannes , and their huffes , as much Pages of Pride , and waiters vpon vanity ? what say you ? what say you ? what say you ?

BVS.

I will not answer for them .

PVP.

Because you cannot , because you cannot . Is a Bugle-maker a lawfull Calling ? or the Confect-makers ? such you haue there : or your French Fashioner ? you 'ld haue all the sinne within your selues , would you not ? would you not ?

BVS.

No , Dagon .

PVS.

What then , Dagonet ? is a Puppet worse then these ?

BVS.

Yes , and my maine argument against you , is , that you are an abomination : for the Male , among you , putteth on the apparell of the Female , and the Female of the Male.

PVP.

You lye , you lye , you lye abominably .

COK.

Good , by my troth , he has giuen him the lye thrice .

PVP.

It is your old stale argument against the Players , but it will not hold against the Puppets ; for we haue neyther Male nor Female amongst vs. And that thou may'st see , if thou wilt , The Puppet takes vp his garment . like a malicious purblinde zeale as thou art !

EDG.

By my faith , there he has answer'd you , friend ; by playne demonstration .

PVP.

Nay , I 'le proue , against ere a Rabbin of 'hem all , that my standing is as lawfull as his ; that I speak by inspiration , as well as he ; that I haue as little to doe with learning as he ; and doe scorne her helps as much as he .

BVS ,

I am confuted , the Cause hath failed me .

PVS.

Then be conuerted , be conuerted .

LAN.

Be conuerted , I pray you , and let the Play goe on !

BVS.

Let it goe on . For I am changed , and will become a beholder with you !

COK.

That 's braue i'faith , thou hast carryed it away , Hobby-horse , on with the Play !

IVS.

Stay , now do I forbid , I Adam Ouerdoo ! sit still , I charge you . The Iustice discouers himselfe .

COK.

What , my Brother i'law !

GRA.

My wise Guardian !

EDG.

Iustice Ouerdoo !

IVS.

It is time , to take Enormity by the fore head , and brand it ; for , I haue discouer'd enough .

ACT. V. SCENE . VI. To them , QVARLOVS . ( like the Mad-man ) PVRE-CRAFT . ( a while after ) IOHN . to them TROVBLE-ALL . VRSLA. NIGHTIGALE . QVAR.

Nay , come Mistresse Bride . You must doe as I doe , now . You must be mad with mee , in truth . I haue heere Iustice Ouerdoo for it .

IVS.

Peace good Trouble-all ; come hither , and you shall trouble none . To the Cutpurse , and Mistresse Litwit . I will take the charge of you , and your friend too , you also , young man shall be my care , stand there .

EDG.

Now , mercy vpon mee .

KNO.

Would we were away , Whit , these are dangerous vapours , The rest are stealing away . best fall off with our birds , for feare o' the Cage .

IVS.

Stay , is not my name your terror ?

WHI.

Yesh faith man , and it ish for tat , we would be gone man .

IOH.

O Gentlemen ! did you not see a wife of mine ? I ha' lost my little wife , as I shall be trusted : my little pretty Win , I left her at the great woman's house in trust yonder , the Pig-womans , with Captaine Iordan , and Captaine Whit , very good men , and I cannot heare of her . Poore foole , I feare shee 's stepp'd aside . Mother , did you not see Win ?

IVS.

If this graue Matron be your mother , Sir , stand by her , Et digito compesce labellum , I may perhaps spring a wife for you , anone . Brother Bartholmew , I am sadly sorry , to see you so lightly giuen , and such a Disciple of enormity : with your graue Gouernour Humphrey : but stand you both there , in the middle place ; I will reprehend you in your course . Mistresse Grace , let me rescue you out of the hands of the stranger .

WIN-W.

Pardon me , Sir , I am a kinsman of hers .

IVS.

Are you so ? of what name , Sir ?

WIN-W.

Winwife , Sir :

IVS.

Master Winwife ? I hope you haue won no wife of her , Sir . If you haue , I will examine the possibility of it , at fit leasure . Now , to my enormities : looke vpon mee , O London ! and see mee , O Smithfield ; The example of Iustice , and Mirror of Magistrates : the true top of formality , and scourge of enormity . Harken vnto my labours , and but obserue my discoueries ; and compare Hercules with me , if thou dar'st , of old ; or Columbus ; Magellan ; or our countrey man Drake of later times : stand forth you weedes of enormity , and spread . First , Rabbi Busy , thou superlunaticall hypocrite , next , To Busy , To Lantern , To the horse courser , and Cutpurse . Then Cap. Whit , and Mistresse Littlewit . thou other extremity , thou prophane professor of Puppetry , little better then Poetry : then thou strong Debaucher , and Seducer of youth ; witnesse this easie and honest young man : now thou Esquire of Dames , Madams , and twelue-penny Ladies : now my greene Madame her selfe , of the price . Let mee vnmasque your Ladiship .

IOH.

O my wife , my wife , my wife !

IVS.

Is she your wife ? Redde te Harpocratem !

TRO.

By your leaue , stand by my Masters , be vncouer'd .

VRS.

O stay him , stay him , helpe to cry , Nightingale ; my pan , Enter Trouble-all . my panne .

IVS.

What 's the matter ?

NIG.

Hee has stolne gammar Vrsla's panne .

TRO.

Yes , and I feare no man but Iustice Ouerdoo .

IVS.

Vrsla ? where is she ? O the Sow of enormity , this ! To Vrsla , and Nightingale . welcome , stand you there , you Songster , there .

VRS.

An' please your worship , I 'am in no fault : A Gentleman stripp'd him in my Booth , and borrow'd his gown , and his hat ; and hee ranne away with my goods , here , for it .

IVS·

Then this is the true mad-man , and you are the enormity ! To Quarlous .

QVA.

You are i' the right , I am mad , but from the gowne outward .

IVS.

Stand you there .

QVA.

Where you please , Sir .

OVER

O lend me a bason , I am sicke , I am sicke ; Mistresse Ouerdoo is sicke : and her husband is silenc'd . where 's Mr. Ouerdoo ? Bridget , call hither my Adam .

IVS.

How ?

WHI.

Dy very owne wife , i'fait , worshipfull Adam .

OVER.

Will not my Adam come at mee ? shall I see him no more then ?

QVA.

Sir , why doe you not goe on with the enormity ? are you opprest with it ? I 'le helpe you : harke you Sir , i' your eare , your Innocent young man , you haue tane such care of , all this day , is a Cutpurse ; that hath got all your brother Cokes his things , and help'd you to your beating , and the stocks ; if you haue a minde to hang him now , and shew him your Magistrates wit , you may : but I should think it were better , recouering the goods , and to saue your estimation in him . I thank you Sr. for the gift of your Ward , Mrs. Grace : look you , here is your hand & seale , by the way . Mr. Win-wife giue you ioy , you are Palemon , you are possest o' the Gentlewoman , but she must pay me value , here 's warrant for it . And honest mad-man , there 's thy gowne , and cap againe ; I thanke thee for my wife . To the widdow . Nay , I can be mad , sweet heart , when I please , still ; neuer feare me : And carefull Numps , where 's he ? I thanke him for my licence .

WAS.

Waspe misseth the Licence . How !

QVA.

'T is true , Numps .

WAS.

I 'll be hang'd then .

QVA.

Loke i' your boxe , Numps , nay , Sir , stand not you fixt here , like a stake in Finsbury to be shot at , or the whipping post i' the Fayre , but get your wife out o' the ayre , it wil make her worse else ; and remember you are but Adam , Flesh , and blood ! you haue your frailty , forget your other name of Ouerdoo , and inuite vs all to supper . There you and I will compare our discoueries ; and drowne the memory of all enormity in your bigg'st bowle at home .

COK.

How now , Numps , ha' you lost it ? I warrant , 't was when thou wert i' the stocks : why dost not speake ?

WAS.

I will neuer speak while I liue , againe , for ought I know .

IVS.

Nay , Humphrey , if I be patient , you must be so too ; this pleasant conceited Gentleman hath wrought vpon my iudgement , and preuail'd : I pray you take care of your sicke friend , Mistresse Alice , and my good friends all —

QVA.

And no enormities .

IVS.

I inuite you home , with mee to my house , to supper : I will haue none feare to go along , for my intents are Ad correctionem , non ad destructionem ; Ad aedificandum , non ad diruendum : so lead on .

COK.

Yes , and bring the Actors along , wee 'll ha' the rest o' the Play at home .

The end .
The EPILOGVE . YOur Maiesty hath seene the Play , and you can best allow it from your eare , and view . You know the scope of Writers , and what store , of leaue is giuen them , if they take not more , And turne it into licence : you can tell if we haue vs'd that leaue you gaue vs , well : Or whether wee to rage , or licence breake , or be prophane , or make prophane men speake ? This is your power to iudge ( great Sir ) and not the enuy of a few . Which if wee haue got , Wee value lesse what their dislike can bring , if it so happy be , t' haue pleas'd the King .

THE STAPLE OF NEWES .

A COMEDIE ACTED IN THE YEARE , 1625.

BY HIS MAIESTIES SERVANTS .

The Author BEN : IONSON .

HOR. in ART. POET. Aut prodesse volunt , aut delectare poetae : Aut simul & iucunda , & idonea dicere vitae

LONDON , Printed by I. B. for ROBERT ALLOT , and are to be sold at the signe of the Beare , in Pauls Church-yard . 1631.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY . PENI-BOY . the Sonne , the heire and Suiter . PENI-BOY . the Father . the Canter . PENI-BOY . the Vncle . The Vsurer . CYMBAL . Master of the Staple , and prime Ieerer . FITTON . Emissary Court , and Ieerer . ALMANACH Doctor in Physick , and Ieerer . SHVN-FIELD . Sea-captaine , and Ieerer . MADRIGAL . Poetaster , and Ieerer . PICKLOCK . Man o' law , and Emissary Westminster . PYED-MANTLE . Pursiuant at armes , and Heraldet . REGISTER . Of the Staple , or Office . NATHANEEL . First Clerke of the Office . THO: BARBR . Second Clerke of the Office . PECVNIA . Infanta of the Mynes . MORTGAGE . Her Nurse . STATVTE . First Woman . BAND . Second Woman . WAXE . Chambermaid . BROKER . Secretary , and Gentleman vsher to her Grace . LICK-FINGER . A Master Cooke , and parcell Poet. FASHIONER . The Taylor of the times . LINENER . HABERDASHER . SHOOMAKER . SPVRRIER . CVSTOMERS . Male and Female . PORTER ▪ DOGGES . II.

The SCENE . London .

THE INDVCTION . The PROLOGVE enters . After him , Gossip MIRTH. Gos . TATLE. Gos . EXPECTATION . and Gossip CENSVRE . 4. Gentlewomen LADY-like attyred . PROLOGVE .

FOr your owne sake , not ours —

MIRTH.

Come Gossip , be not asham'd . The Play is the Staple of Newes , and you are the Mistresse , and Lady of Tatle , let 's ha' your opinion of it : Do you heare Gentleman ? what are you ? Gentleman-vsher to the Play ? pray you helpe vs to some stooles here .

PROLOGVE .

Where ? o' the Stage , Ladies ?

MIRTH.

Yes , o' the Stage ; wee are persons of quality , I assure you , and women of fashion ; and come to see , and to be seene : My Gossip Tatle here , and Gossip Expectation , and my Gossip Censure , and I am Mirth , the daughter of Christmas , and spirit of Shrouetide . They say , It 's merry when Gossips meet , I hope your Play will be a merry one !

PROLOGVE ▪

Or you will make it such , Ladies . Bring a forme here , but what will the Noblemen thinke , or the graue Wits here , to see you seated on the bench thus ?

MIRTH.

Why , what should they thinke ? but that they had Mothers , as we had , and those Mothers had Gossips ( if their children were christned ) as we are , and such as had a longing to see Playes , and sit vpon them , as wee doe , and arraigne both them , and their Poëts .

PROLOGVE .

O! Is that your purpose ? Why , Mrs. Mirth , and Madame Tatle , enioy your delights freely .

TATLE.

Looke your Newes be new , and fresh , Mr. Prologue , and vntainted , I shall find them else , if they be stale , or flye-blowne , quickly !

PROLOGVE .

Wee aske no fauour from you , onely wee would entreate of Madame Expectation —

EXPECTATION .

What , Mr. Prologue ?

PROLOGVE .

That your Ladi-ship would expect no more then you vnderstand .

EXPECTATION .

Sir , I can expect enough !

PROLOGVE .

I feare too much , Lady , and teach others to do the like ?

EXPECTATION .

I can doe that too , if I haue cause .

PROLOGVE .

Cry you mercy , you neuer did wrong , but with iust cause . What 's this , Lady ?

MIRTH.

Curiosity , my Lady Censure .

PROLOGVE .

O Curiosity ! you come to see , who weares the new sute to day ? whose clothes are best penn'd , what euer the part be ? which Actor has the best legge and foote ? what King playes without cuffes ? and his Queene without gloues ? who rides post in stockings ? and daunces in bootes ?

CENSVRE .

Yes , and which amorous Prince makes loue in drinke , or doe's ouer-act prodigiously in beaten satten ▪ and , hauing got the tricke on 't , will be monstrous still , in despight of Counsell !

BOOK-HOLDER .

The Tire-men enter to mend the lights . Mend your lights , Gentlemen . Master Prologue , beginne .

TATLE.

Ay me !

EXPECTATION ,

Who 's that ?

PROLOGVE .

Nay , start not Ladies , these carry no fire-workes to fright you , but a Torch i' their hands , to giue light to the businesse . The truth is , there are a set of gamesters within , in trauell of a thing call'd a Play , and would faine be deliuer'd of it : and they haue intreated me to be their Man - Midwife , the Prologue ; for they are like to haue a hard labour on 't .

TATLE.

Then the Poet has abus'd himselfe , like an Asse , as hee is .

MIRTH.

No , his Actors will abuse him enough , or I am deceiu'd . Yonder he is within ( I was i' the Tiring-house a while to see the Actors drest ) rowling himselfe vp and downe like a tun , i' the midst of 'hem , and spurges , neuer did vessel of wort , or wine worke so ! His sweating put me in minde of a good Shrouing dish ( and I beleeue would be taken vp for a seruice of state somewhere , an 't were knowne ) a stew'd Poet ! He doth sit like an vnbrac'd Drum with one of his heads beaten out : For , that you must note , a Poet hath two heads , as a Drum has , one for making , the other repeating , and his repeating head is all to pieces : they may gather it vp i' the tiring-house ; for hee hath torne the booke in a Poeticall fury , and put himselfe to silence in dead Sacke , which , were there no other vexation , were sufficient to make him the most miserable Embleme of patience .

CENSVRE .

The Prologue , peace .

THE PROLOGVE FOR THE STAGE . FOr your owne sakes , not his , he bad me say , Would you were come to heare , not see a Play . Though we his Actors must prouide for those , Who are our guests , here , in the way of showes , The maker hath not so ; he 'ld haue you wise , Much rather by your eares , then by your eyes : And prayes you 'll not preiudge his Play for ill , Because you marke it not , and sit not still ; But haue a longing to salute , or talke With such a female , and from her to walke With your discourse , to what is done , and where , How , and by whom , in all the towne ; but here . Alas ! what is it to his Scene , to know How many Coaches in Hide-parke did show Last spring , what fare to day at Medleyes was , If Dunstan , or the Phoenix best wine has ? They are things — But yet , the Stage might stand as wel , If it did neither heare these things , nor tell . Great noble wits , be good vnto your selues , And make a difference 'twixt Poetique elues , And Poets : All that dable in the inke , And defile quills , are not those few , can thinke , Conceiue , expresse , and steere the soules of men , As with a rudder , round thus , with their pen. He must be one that can instruct your youth , And keepe your Acme in the state of truth , Must enterprize this worke , marke but his wayes , What flight he makes , how new ; And then he sayes , If that not like you , that he sends to night , 'T is you haue left to iudge , not hee to write .
THE PROLOGVE FOR THE COVRT . A Worke not smelling of the Lampe , to night , But fitted for your Maiesties disport , And writ to the Meridian of your Court , Wee bring ; and hope it may produce delight : The rather , being offered , as a Rite To Schollers , that can iudge , and faire report The sense they heare , aboue the vulgar sort Of Nut-crackers , that onely come for sight . Wherein , although our Title , Sir , be Newes . Wee yet aduenture , here , to tell you none ; But shew you common follies , and so knowne , That though they are not truths , th' innocent Muse Hath made so like , as Phant'sie could them state , Or Poetry , without scandall , imitate .
THE STAPLE OF NEWES .
ACT. I. SCENE . I. PENI-BOY . IV. LETHER-LEGGE . GRamercie Letherleg : Get me the Spurrier , * * His Shooe-maker has pull'd on a new payre of bootes ; and hee walks in his Gowne , wastcoate , and trouses , expecting his Taylor . And thou hast fitted me . LET. I 'll do 't presently . P. IV. Look to me , wit , and look to my wit , Land , That is , looke on me , and with all thine eyes , Male , Female , yea , Hermaphroditicke eyes , And those bring all your helpes , and perspicills , To see me at best aduantage , and augment My forme as I come forth , for I doe feele I will be one , worth looking after , shortly . Now , by and by , that 's shortly . He drawes foorth his watch , and sets it on the Table . 't strikes ! One , two , Three , foure , fiue , six . Inough , inough , deare watch , Thy pulse hath beate inough . Now sleepe , and rest ; Would thou couldst make the time to doe so too : I 'll winde thee vp no more . The houre is come So long expected ! There , there , He throws off his gowne drop my wardship , My pupill age , and vassalage together . And Liberty , come throw thy selfe about me , In a rich suite , cloake , hat , and band , for now I 'le sue out no mans Liuery , but miny owne , I stand on my owne feete , so much a yeere , Right , round , and sound , the Lord of mine owne ground , And ( to ryme to it ) threescore thousand Pound ! He goes to the doore , and lookes . Not come ? Not yet ? Taylor thou art a vermine , Worse then the same thou prosecut'st , and prick'st In subtill seame — ( Go too , I say no more ) Thus to retard my longings : on the day I doe write man , to beat thee . One and twenty , Since the clock strooke , compleat ! and thou wilt feele it Thou foolish Animall ! I could pitty him , ( An' I were not heartily angry with him now ) For this one peece of folly he beares about him , To dare to tempt the Furie of an heyre , T' aboue two thousand a yeere ; yet hope his custome ! Well , Mr. Fashioner , there s some must breake — A head , for this your breaking . Are you come , Sir ,
ACT. II. SCENE . IJ. FASHIONER . PENIBOY . THOMAS BARBER . HABERDASHER . GOd giue your worship ioy . P.IV. What ? of your staying ? And leauing me to stalke here in my trowses , Like a tame Her'n-few for you ? FAS. I but waited Below , till the clocke strooke . P.IV. Why , if you had come Before a quarter , would it so haue hurt you , In reputation , to haue wayted here ? FAS. No , but your worship might haue pleaded nonage , If you had got 'hem on , ere I could make Iust Affidauit of the time . P. IV. That iest Has gain'd thy pardon , thou had'st liu'd , condemn'd To thine owne hell else , neuer to haue wrought Stitch more for me , or any Peniboy , I could haue hindred thee : but now thou art mine . For one and twenty yeeres , or for three liues , Chuse which thou wilt , I 'll make thee a Copy-holder , He sayes his sute . And thy first Bill vnquestion'd . Helpe me on . FAS. Presently , Sir , I am bound vnto your worship . P. IV. Thou shalt be , when I haue seal'd thee a Lease of my Custome . FAS. Your wor ps. Barbar is without . P.IN. Who ? Thom ? Come in Thom: set thy things vpon the Boord And spread thy clothes , lay all forth in procinctu , And tell 's what newes ? THO. O Sir , a staple of newes ! Or the New Staple , which you please . P. IV. What 's that ? FAS. An Office , Sir , a braue young Office set vp . I had forgot to tell your worship . P.IV. For what ? THO. To enter all the Newes , Sir , o' the time , FAS. And vent it as occasion serues ! A place Of huge commerce it will be ! P.IV. Pray thee peace , I cannot abide a talking Taylor : let Thom ( He 's a Barber ) by his place relate it , What is 't , an Office , Thom ? THO. Newly erected Here in the house , almost on the same floore , Where all the newes of all sorts shall be brought , And there be examin'd , and then registred , And so be issu'd vnder the Seale of the Office , As Staple Newes ; no other newes be currant . P.IV. 'Fore me , thou speak'st of a braue busines , Thom. FAS. Nay , if you knew the brain that hatch'd it Sr — P.IV. I know thee wel inough : giue him a loaf , Thom — Quiet his mouth , that Ouen will be venting else . Proceed — THO. He tels you true Sr. Mr Cymbal , Is Master of the Office , he proiected it , Hee lies here i' the house : and the great roomes He has taken for the Office , and set vp His Deskes and Classes , Tables and his Shelues , FAS. He 's my Customer , and a Wit Sir , too . But , h' has braue wits vnder him — THO. Yes , foure Emissaries , P.IV. Emissaries ? stay , there 's a fine new word , Thom ! 'Pray God it signifie any thing , what are Emissaries ? THO. Men imploy'd outward , that are sent abroad To fetch in the commodity . FAS. From all regions Where the best newes are made . THO. Or vented forth . FAS. By way of exchange , or trade . P.IV. Nay , thou wilt speak — FAS. My share Sr. there 's enough for both . P.IV. Goe on then , Hee giues the Taylor leaue to talk . Speake all thou canst : me thinkes , the ordinaries Should helpe them much . FAS. Sir , they haue ordinaries , And extraordinaries , as many changes , And variations , as there are points i' the compasse . THO. But the 4. Cardinall Quarters — P.IV. I , those Thom — THO. The Court , Sir , Pauls , Exchange , and Westminster-hall . P.IV. Who is the Chiefe ? which hath preceedencie ? THO. The gouernour o' the Staple , Master Cymball . He is the Chiefe ; and after him the Emissaries : First Emissary Court , one Master Fitton , He 's a Ieerer too . P.IV. What 's that ? FAS. A Wit. THO. Or halfe a Wit , some of them are Halfe-wits , Two to a Wit , there are a set of 'hem . Then Master Ambler , Emissary Paules , A fine pac'd gentleman , as you shall see , walke The middle I le : And then my Froy Hans Buz , A Dutch-man ; he 's Emissary Exhange . FAS. I had thought Mr. Burst the Marchant had had it . THO. No , He has a rupture , hee has sprung a leake , Emissarie Westminster's vndispos'd of yet ; Then the Examiner , Register , and two Clerkes , They mannage all at home , and sort , and file , And seale the newes , and issue them . P. IV. Thom , deare Thom. What may my means doe for thee , aske , and haue it , I 'd faine be doing some good . It is my birth-day . And I 'd doe it betimes , I feele a grudging Of bounty , and I would not long lye fallow . I pray thee thinke , and speake , or wish for something . THO. I would I had but one o' the Clerkes places , I'th is Newes Office , . P.IV. Thou shalt haue it , Thom , If siluer , or gold will fetch it ; what 's the rate ? At what is 't set i' the Mercat ? THO. Fiftie pound , Sir . P.IV. An 't were a hundred , Thom , thou shalt not want it . FAS. The Taylor leapes , and embraceth him . O Noble Master ! P.IV. How now Aesops Asse ! Because I play with Thom , must I needes runne Into your rude embraces ? stand you still , Sir ; Clownes fawnings , are a horses salutations . How do'st thou like my suite , Thom ? THO. Mr Fashioner Has hit your measures , Sir , h' has moulded you , And made you , as they say . FAS. No , no , not I , I am an Asse , old Aesops Asse . P. IV. Nay , Fashioner , I can doe thee a good turne too , be not musty , Though thou hast moulded me , as little Thom sayes , He drawes out his pockets . ( I thinke thou hast put me in mouldy pockets . ) FAS. As good , Right Spanish perfume , the Lady Estifania's , They cost twelue pound a payre . P. IV. Thy bill will say so . I pray thee tell me , Fashioner , what Authors Thou read'st to helpe thy inuention ? Italian prints ? Or Arras hangings ? They are Taylors Libraries . FAS. I scorne such helps . P.IV. O , though thou art a silk-worme ! And deal'st in sattins and veluets , and rich plushes , Thou canst not spin all formes out of thy selfe ; They are quite other things : I thinke this suite Has made me wittier , then I was . FAS. Belieue it Sir , That clothes doe much vpon the wit , as weather Do's on the braine ; and thence comes your prouerbe ; The Taylor makes the man : I speake by experience Of my owne Customers . I haue had Gallants , Both Court and Countrey , would ha' fool'd you vp In a new suite , with the best wits , in being , And kept their speed , as long as their clothes lasted Han'some , and neate ; but then as they grew out At the elbowes againe , or had a staine , or spot , They haue sunke most wretchedly . P. IV. What thou reportst , Is but the common calamity , and seene daily ; And therefore you ' haue another answering prouerbe : A broken sleeue keepes the arme backe , FAS. 'T is true , Sir . And thence wee say , that such a one playes at peepe-arme . P.IV. Doe you so ? it is wittily sayd . I wonder , Gentlemen , And men of meanes will not maintaine themselues Fresher in wit , I meane in clothes , to the highest . For hee that 's out o' clothes , is out o 'fashion , And out of fashion , is out of countenance , And out o' countenance , is out o' Wit. Is not Rogue Haberdasher come ? HAB. Yes , here , Sir . They are all about him , busie . I ha' beene without this halfe houre . P.IV. Giue me my hat . Put on my Girdle . Rascall , sits my Ruffe well ? LIN. In print . P.IV. Slaue . LIN. See your selfe . P.IV. Is this same hat O' the blocke passant ? Doe not answer mee , I cannot stay for an answer . I doe feele The powers of one and twenty , like a Tide Flow in vpon mee , and perceiue an Heyre , Can Coniure vp all spirits in all circles , Rogue , Rascall , Slaue , giue tradesmen their true names , And they appeare to 'hem presently . LIN. For profit . P.IV. Come , cast my cloake about me , I 'll goe see , This Office Thom , and be trimm'd afterwards . I 'll put thee in possession , my prime worke ! Gods so : my Spurrier ! put 'hem on boy , quickly , His Spurrier comes in . I 'had like to ha lost my Spurres with too much speed .
ACT. I. SCENE . IIJ. PENI-BOY , Canter , to them singing . Good morning to my Ioy , My iolly Peni-boy ! The Lord , and the Prince of plenty ! I come to see what riches , Thou bearest in thy breeches , The first of thy one and twenty : What , doe thy pockets gingle ? Or shall wee neede to mingle Our strength both of foote , and horses ! These fellows looke so eager , As if they would beleaguer An Heyre in the midst of his forces ! I hope they be no Serieants ! That hang vpon thy margents . This Rogue has the Ioule of a Iaylor ! P.IV. O Founder , no such matter , My Spurrier , and my Hatter , The young Peny-boy answ● My Linnen man , and my Taylor . Thou should'st haue beene brought in too , Shoomaker , If the time had beene longer , and Thom Barber . How do'st thou like my company , old Canter ? Doe I not muster a braue troupe ? all Bill-men ? Present your Armes , before my Founder here , This is my Founder , this same learned Canter ! He brought me the first newes of my fathers death , He tales the bils , and puts them vp in his pockets . I thanke him , and euer since , I call him Founder , Worship him , boyes , I 'll read onely the summes . And passe 'hem streight . SHO. Now Ale . REST. And strong Ale blesse him . P. IV. Gods so , some Ale , and Sugar for my Founder ! Good Bills , sufficient Bills , these Bills may passe . P. CA. I do not like those paper-squibs , good Master . They may vndoe your store , I meane , of Credit , And fire your Arsenall , if case you doe not In time make good those outerworkes , your pockets , And take a Garrison in of some two hundred , To beat these Pyoners off , that carry a Mine Would blow you vp , at last . Secure your Casamates , Here Master Picklocke , Sir , your man o' Law , And learn'd Atturney , has sent you a Bag of munition . P.IV. What is 't ? P.CA. Three hundred pieces . P.IV. I 'll dispatch 'hem . P.CA. Do , I would haue your strengths lin'd , and perfum'd With Gold , as well as Amber . P.IV. God a mercy , Come , Ad soluendum , boyes ! there , there , and there , &c. He payes all . I looke on nothing but Totalis . P. CA. See! The difference 'twixt the couetous , and the prodigall ! " The Couetous man neuer has money ! and " The Prodigall will haue none shortly ! P. IV. Ha , What saies my Founder ? I thanke you , I thanke you Sirs . ALL. God blesse your worship , and your worships Chanter . P CA. I say 't is nobly done , to cherish Shop-keepers , And pay their Bills , without examining thus . P. IV. Alas ! they haue had a pittifull hard time on 't , A long vacation , from their coozening . Poore Rascalls , I doe doe it out of charity . I would aduance their trade againe , and haue them Haste to be rich , sweare , and forsweare wealthily , What doe you stay for , Sirrah ? SPV. To my boxe Sir , P.IV. Your boxe , why , there 's an angel , if my Spurres He giues the Spurrier , to his boxe . Be not right Rippon . SPV. Giue me neuer a penny If I strike not thorow your bounty with the Rowells . P. IV. Do'st thou want any money Founder ? P.CA. Who , Sr. I , Did I not tell you I was bred i' the Mines , Vnder Sir Beuis Bullion . P.IV. That is true , I quite forgot , you Myne-men want no money , Your streets are pau'd with 't : there , the molten siluer Runns out like creame , on cakes of gold . P. CA. And Rubies Doe grow like Strawberries . P. IV. 'T were braue being there ! Come Thom , we 'll go to the Office now . P.CA. What Office ? P. IV. Newes Office , the New Staple ; thou shalt goe too , 'T is here i' the house , on the same floore , Thom. sayes , Come , Founder , let vs trade in Ale , and nutmegges .
ACT. I. SCENE . IIII. REGISTER . CLERKE . WOMAN . WHat , are those Desks fit now ? set forth the Table , The Carpet and the Chayre : where are the Newes That were examin'd last ? ha' you fil'd them vp ? CLE. Not yet , I had no time . REG. Are those newes registred , That Emissary Buz sent in last night ? Of Spinola , and his Egges ? CLE. Yes Sir , and fil'd . REG. What are you now vpon ? CLE. That our new Emissary Westminster , gaue vs , of the Golden Heyre . REG. Dispatch , that 's newes indeed , and of importance . What would you haue good woman ? WO. I would haue Sir , A countrey-woman waites there A groatsworth of any Newes , I care not what , To carry downe this Saturday , to our Vicar . REG. O! You are a Butterwoman , aske Nathaniel The Clerke , there . CLE. Sir , I tell her , she must stay Till Emissary Exchange , or Pauls send in , And then I 'll fit her . REG. Doe good woman , haue patience , It is not now , as when the Captaine liu'd . CLE. You 'll blast the reputation of the Office , Now i' the Bud , if you dispatch these Groats , So soone : let them attend in name of policie .
ACT. I. SCENE . V. PENIBOY . CYMBAL . FITTON . THO: BARBER . CANTER . IN troth they are dainty roomes ; what place is this ? CYM. This is the outer roome , where my Clerkes sit , And keepe their sides , the Register i' the midst , The Examiner , he sits priuate there , within , And here I haue my seuerall Rowles , and Fyles Of Newes by the Alphabet , and all put vp Vnder their heads . P.IV. But those , too , subdiuided ? CYM. Into Authenticall , and Apocryphall . FIT. Or Newes of doubtfull credit , as Barbers newes . CYM. And Taylors Newes , Porters , and Watermens newes , FIT. Whereto , beside the Coranti , and Gazetti . CYM. I haue the Newes of the season . FIT. As vacation newes , Terme-nerves , and Christmas-newes . CIM. And newes O' the faction . FIT. As the Reformed newes , Protestant newes , CYM. And Pontificiall newes , of all which seuerall , The Day-bookes , Characters , Precedents are kept . Together with the names of speciall friends — FIT. And men of Correspondence i' the Countrey — CYM. Yes , of all ranks , and all Religions . — FIT. Factors , and Agents — CYM. Liegers , that lie out Through all the Shires o' the kingdome . P.IV. This is fine ! And beares a braue relation ! but what sayes Mercurius Britannicus to this ? CYM. O Sir , he gaines by 't halfe in halfe . FIT. Nay more I 'll stand to 't . For , where he was wont to get In , hungry Captaines , obscure Statesmen . CYM. Fellowes To drinke with him in a darke roome in a Tauerne , And eat a Sawsage . FIT. We ha' seen 't , CYM. As faine , To keepe so many politique pennes Going , to feed the presse . FIT. And dish our newes , Were 't true , or false . CYM. Now all that charge is sau'd The publique Chronicler . FIT. How , doe you call him there ? CYM. And gentle Reader . FIT. He that has the maidenhead Of all the bookes . CYM. Yes , dedicated to him , FIT. Or rather prostituted . P. IV. You are right , Sir . CYM. No more shall be abus'd , nor countrey - Parsons O' the Inquisition , nor busie Iustices , Trouble the peace , and both torment themselues , And their poore ign'rant Neighbours with enquiries After the many , and most innocent Monsters , That neuer came i' th' Counties they were charg'd with . P. IV. Why , me thinkes Sir , if the honest common people Will be abus'd , why should not they ha' their pleasure , In the belieuing Lyes , are made for them ; As you i' th' Office , making them your selues ? FIT. O Sir ! it is the printing we oppose . CYM. We not forbid that any Newes , be made , But that 't be printed ; for when Newes is printed , It leaues Sir to be Newes . while 't is but written — FIT. Though it be ne're so false , it runnes Newes still . P. IV. See diuers mens opinions ! vnto some , The very printing of them , makes them Newes ; That ha' not the heart to beleeue any thing , But what they see in print . FIT. I , that 's an Error Ha's abus'd many ; but we shall reforme it , As many things beside ( we haue a hope ) Are crept among the popular abuses . CYM. Nor shall the Stationer cheat vpon the Time , By buttering ouer againe — FIT. once , in Seuen Yeares , As the age doates — CYM. And growes forgetfull o' them , His antiquated Pamphlets , with new dates . But all shall come from the Mint . FIT. Fresh and new stamp'd , CYM. With the Office-Seale , Staple Commoditie . FIT. And if a man will assure his Newes , he may : Two-pence a Sheet he shall be warranted , And haue a policie for 't . P. IV. Sir , I admire The method o' your place ; all things within 't Are so digested , fitted , and compos'd , As it shewes Wit had married Order . FIT. Sir . CYM. The best wee could to inuite the Times . FIT. It ha's Cost sweat , and freesing . CYM. And some broken sleepes Before it came to this . P.IV. I easily thinke it . FIT. But now it ha's the shape — CYM. And is come forth . P. IV. A most polite neat thing ! with all the limbs , As sense can tast ! CYM. It is Sir , though I say it , As well-begotten a busines , and as fairely Helpt to the World . P. IV. You must be a Mid-wife Sir ! Or els the sonne of a Mid-wife ! ( pray you pardon me ) Haue helpt it forth so happily ! what Newes ha' you ? Newes o' this morning ? I would faine heare some Fresh , from the forge ( as new as day , as they say . ) CYM. And such we haue Sir . REG. Shew him the last Rowle , Of Emissary West-minster 's , The Heire . P. IV. Come nearer , Thom: CLA. There is a braue yong Heire Peny reioyceth , that he is in . Is come of age this morning , Mr. Peny-boy . P. IV. That 's I ! CLA. His Father dy'd on this day seuenth-night . P. IV. True ! CLA. At sixe o' the Clocke i' the morning , iust a weeke Tels Thom: of it . Ere he was One and Twenty . P. IV. I am here , Thom ! Proceed , I pray thee . CLA. An old Canting Begger Brought him first Newes , whom he has entertain'd , Call in the Canter . Hee giues the Clerke . To follow him , since . P. IV. Why , you shall see him ! Founder , Come in ; no Follower , but Companion , I pray thee put him in , Friend . There 's an Angell — Thou do'st not know , hee 's a wise old Fellow , Though he seeme patch'd thus , and made vp o' peeces . Founder , we are in , here , in , i' the Newes-Office ! In this dayes Rowle , already ! I doe muse How you came by vs Sir's ! CYM. One Master Pick-locke A Lawyer , that hath purchas'd here a place , This morning , of an Emissary vnder me . FIT. Emissarie Westminster . CYM. Gaue it into th' Office , FIT. For his Essay , his peece . P. IV. My man o' Law ! Hee 's my Attorney , and Sollicitour too ! A fine pragmaticke ! what 's his place worth ? CYM. A Nemo-scit , Sir . FIT. 'T is as Newes come , in , CYM. And as they are issued . I haue the iust meoytie For my part : then the other moeytie Is parted into seuen . The foure Emissaries ; Whereof my Cozen Fitton here 's for Court , Ambler for Pauls , and Buz for the Exchange , Picklocke , for Westminster , with the Examiner , And Register , they haue full parts : and then one part Is vnder-parted to a couple of Clarkes ; And there 's the iust diuision of the profits ! P.IV. Ha' you those Clarks Sir . CYM. There is one Desk empty , But it has many Suitors . P. IV. Sir , may I Present one more and carry it , if his parts Or Gifts , ( which you will , call 'hem ) CYM. Be sufficient Sir . P. IV. What are your present Clarkes habilities ? How is he qualified ? CYM. A decay'd Stationer He was , but knowes Newes well , can sort and ranke 'hem . FIT. And for a need can make 'hem . CYM. True Paules bred , I' the Church-yard . P. IV. And this at the West-dore , O' th other side , hee 's my Barber Thom , A pretty Scholler , and a Master of Arts , Was made , or went out Master of Arts in a throng , At the Vniuersitie ; as before , one Christmas , He got into a Masque at Court , by his wit , And the good meanes of his Cythern , holding vp thus For one o' the Musique , Hee 's a nimble Fellow ▪ And alike skil'd in euery liberall Science , As hauing certaine snaps of all , a neat , Quick-vaine , in forging Newes too . I doe loue him , And promis'd him a good turne , and I would doe it . What s your price ? the value ? CYM. Fifty pounds , Sr. P. IV. Get in Thom , take possession , I install thee ; Here , tell your money ; giue thee ioy , good Thom ; Hee buyes Thom a Clerkes place . And let me heare from thee euery minute of Newes , While the New Staple stands , or the Office lasts , Which I doe wish , may ne're be lesse for thy sake . CLA. The Emissaries , Sir , would speake with you , And Master Fitton , they haue brought in Newes , Three Bale together . CYM. Sr , you are welcome , here . They take leaue of Peny-boy , and Canter . FIT. So is your creature . CYM. Businesse calls vs off , Sir , That may concerne the Office . P.IV. Keepe me faire , Sir , Still i' your Staple , I am here your friend , On the same flooer . FIT. We shall be your seruants . P. IV. How dost thou like it , Founder ? P.CA. All is well , But that your man o' law me thinks appeares not In his due time . O! Here comes Masters worship .
ACT. I. SCENE . VI. PICKLOCK . PENI-BOY . IV. P. CANTER . HOw do's the Heyre , bright Master Peniboy ? Is hee awake yet in his One and Twenty ? Why , this is better farre , then to weare Cypresse , Dull smutting gloues , or melancholy blacks , And haue a payre of twelue-peny broad ribbands Laid out like Labells . P.IV. I should ha' made shift To haue laught as heartily in my mourners hood , As in this Suite , if it had pleas'd my father To haue beene buried , with the Trumpeters . PIC. The Heralds of Armes , you meane . P.IV. I meane , All noyse , that is superfluous ! PIC. All that idle pompe , And vanity of a Tombe-stone , your wise father Did , by his will , preuent . Your worship had — P. IV. A louing and obedient father of him , I know it : a right , kinde-natur'd man , To dye so opportunely . PIC. And to settle All things so well , compounded for your ward ship The weeke afore , and left your state entyre Without any charge vpon 't . P. IV. I must needes say , I lost an Officer of him , a good Bayliffe , And I shall want him ; but all peace be with him , I will not wish him aliue , againe ; not I , For all my Fortune ; giue your worship ioy O' your new place , your Emissary-ship , I' the Newes Office . PIC. Know you , why I bought it Sr ? P. IV. Not I. PIC. To worke for you , and carry a myne Against the Master of it , Master Cymball ; Who hath a plot vpon a Gentlewoman , Was once design'd for you , Sir . P. IV. Me ? PIC. Your father , Old Master Peni-boy , of happy memory , And wisdome too , as any i' the County , Carefull to finde out a fit match for you , In his owne life time ( but hee was preuented ) Left it in writing in a Schedule here , To be annexed to his Will ; that you , His onely Sonne , vpon his charge , and blessing , Should take due notice of a Gentlewoman , Soiourning with your vncle , Rieher Peni-boy . P.IV. A Cornish Gentlewoman , I doe know her , Mistresse , Pecunia doe-all . PIC. A great Lady , Indeede shee is , and not of mortall race , Infanta of the Mines ; her Graces Grandfather , Was Duke , and Cousin to the King of Ophyr , The Subterranean , let that passe . Her name is , Or rather , her three names are ( for such shee is ) Aurelia Clara Pecunia , A great Princesse , Of mighty power , though shee liue in priuate With a contracted family ! Her Secretary — P.CA. Who is her Gentleman-vsher too . PIC. One Broker , And then two Gentlewomen ; Mistresse Statute , And Mistresse Band , with Waxe the Chambermaide , And Mother Mortgage , the old Nurse , two Groomes , Pawne , and his fellow ; you haue not many to bribe , Sir . The worke is feizible , and th' approches easie , By your owne kindred . Now , Sir , Cymball thinkes , The Master here , and gouernor o' the Staple , By his fine arts , and pompe of his great place To draw her ! He concludes , shee is a woman ! And that so soone as sh' heares of the New Office , Shee 'll come to visit it , as they all haue longings After new sights , and motions ! But your bounty , Person , and brauery must atchieue her . P. CA. Shee is The talke o' the time ! th' aduenture o' the age ! PIC. You cannot put your selfe vpon an action Of more importance . P.CA. All the world are suiters to her . PIC. All sorts of men , and all professions ! P.CA. You shall haue stall-fed Doctors , cram'd Diuines Make loue to her , and with those studied And perfum'd flatteries , as no rome can stinke More elegant , then where they are . PIC. Well chanted Old Canter thou singst true . P. CA. And ( by your leaue ) Good Masters worship , some of your veluet coate Make corpulent curt'sies to her , till they cracke for 't . PIC. There 's Doctor Almanack wooes her , one of the Ieerers , A fine Physitian . P. CA. Your Sea-captaine , Shun-field , Giues out hee 'll goe vpon the Cannon for her . PIC. Though his lowd mouthing get him little credit , P. CA. Young Master Pyed-mantle , the fine Herrald Professes to deriuer her through all ages , From all the Kings , and Queenes , that euer were . PIC. And Master Madrigall , the crowned Poet Of these our times , doth offer at her praises As faire as any , when it shall please Apollo , That wit and rime may meete both in one subiect . P. CA. And you to beare her from all these , it will be — PIC. A work of fame . P. CA. Of honor . PIC. Celebration . P. CA. Worthy your name . PIC. The Peni-boyes to liue in 't , P. CA. It is an action you were built for , Sir , PIC. And none but you can doe it . P. IV. I 'll vndertake it , P. CA. And carry it . P.IV. Feare me not , for since I came Of mature age , I haue had a certaine itch In my right eye , this corner , here , doe you see ? To doe some worke , and worthy of a Chronicle .
The first Intermeane after the first Act. MIRTH.

How now Gossip ! how doe's the Play please you ?

CENSVRE .

Very scuruily , me thinks , and sufficiently naught .

EXPECTATION .

As a body would wish : here 's nothing but a young Prodigall , come of age , who makes much of the Barber , buyes him a place in a new Office , i' the ayre , I know not where , and his man o' Law to follow him , with the Begger to boote , and they two helpe him to a wise .

MIRTH.

I , shee is a proper piece ! that such creatures can broke for .

TATLE.

I cannot abide that nasty fellow , the Begger , if hee had beene a Court-Begger in good clothes ; a Begger in veluet , as they say , I could haue endur'd him .

MIRTH.

Or a begging scholler in blacke , or one of these beggerly Poets , gossip , that would hang vpon a young heyre like a horseleech .

EXPEC.

Or a thred-bare Doctor of Physicke , a poore Quackesaluer .

CENSVRE .

Or a Sea-captaine , halfe steru'd .

MIRTH.

I , these were tolerable Beggers , Beggers of fashion ! you shall see some such anon !

TATLE.

I would faine see the Foole , gossip , the Foole is the finest man i' the company , they say , and has all the wit : Hee is the very Iustice o' Peace o' the Play , and can cemmit whom hee will , and what hee will , errour , absurdity , as the toy takes him , and no man say , blacke is his eye , but laugh at him .

MIRTH.

But they ha' no Foole i' this Play , I am afraid , gossip .

TATLE.

It 's a wise Play , then .

EXPECTATION .

They are all fooles , the rather , in that .

CENSVRE .

Like enough .

TATLE.

My husband , ( Timothy Tatle , God rest his poore soule ) was wont to say , there was no Play without a Foole , and a Diuell in 't ; he was for the Diuell still , God blesse him . The Diuell for his money , would hee say , I would faine see the Diuell . And why would you so faine see the Diuell ? would I say . Because hee has hornes , wife , and may be a cuckold , as well as a Diuell , hee would answer : You are e'en such another , husband , quoth I. Was the Diuell euer married ? where doe you read , the Diuell was euer so honorable to commit Matrimony ; The Play will tell vs , that , sayes hee , wee 'll goe see 't to morrow , the Diuell is an Asse . Hee is an errant learn'd man , that made it , and can write , they say , and I am fouly deceiu'd , but hee can read too .

MIRTH.

I remember it gossip , I went with you , by the same token , Mrs. Trouble Truth diswaded vs , and told vs , hee was a prophane Poet , and all his Playes had Diuels in them . That he kept schole vpo' the Stage , could coniure there , aboue the Schole of Westminster , and Doctor Lamb too : not a Play he made , but had a Diuell in it . And that he would learne vs all to make our husbands Cuckolds at Playes : by another token , that a young married wife i' the company , said , shee could finde in her heart to steale thither , and see a little o' the vanity through her masque , and come practice at home .

TATLE.

O , it was , Mistresse —

MIRTH.

Nay , Gossip , I name no body . It may be 't was my selfe .

EXPECTATION .

But was the Diuell a proper man , Gossip ?

MIRTH.

As fine a gentleman , of his inches , as euer I saw trusted to the Stage , or any where else : and lou'd the common wealth , well as ere a Patriot of 'hem all : hee would carry away the Vice on his backe , quicke to Hell , in euery Play where he came , and reforme abuses .

EXPECTATION .

There was the Diuell of Edmonton , no such man , I warrant you .

CENSVRE .

The Coniurer coosen'd him with a candles end , hee was an Asse .

MIRTH.

But there was one Smug , a Smith , would haue made a horse laugh , and broke his halter , as they say .

TATLE.

O , but the poore man had got a shrewd mischance , one day .

EXPECTATION .

How , Gossip ?

TATLE.

He had drest a Rogue Iade i' the morning , that had the Staggers , and had got such a spice of 'hem himselfe , by noone , as they would not away all the Play time , doe what hee could , for his heart .

MIRTH.

'T was his part , Gossip , he was to be drunke , by his part .

TATLE.

Say you so , I vnderstood not so much .

EXPECTA.

Would wee had such an other part , and such a man in this play , I feare 't will be an excellent dull thing .

CENSVRE .

Expect , intend it .

ACT. II. SCENE . I. PENI-BOY . Sen. PECVNIA . MORTGAGE . STATVTE . BAND . BROKER . YOur Grace is sad me thinks , and melancholy ! You doe not looke vpon me with that face , As you were wont , my Goddesse , bright Pecunia : Although your Grace be falne , of two i' the hundred , In vulgar estimation ; yet am I , You Graces seruant still : and teach this body , To bend , and these my aged knees to buckle , In adoration , and iust worship of you . Indeed , I doe confesse , I haue no shape To make a minion of , but I 'm your Martyr , Your Graces Martyr . I can heare the Rogues , As I doe walke the streetes , whisper , and point , There goes old Peni-boy , the slaue of money , Rich Peni-boy , Lady Pecunia's drudge , A sordid Rascall , one that neuer made Good meale in his sleep , but sells the acates are sent him , Fish , Fowle , and venison , and preserues himselfe , Like an old hoary Rat , with mouldy pye-crust . This I doe heare , reioycing , 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 selfe-tormentings , and your watches , Your macerating of your body thus With cares , and scantings of your dyet , and rest ? P. SE. O , no , your seruices , my Princely Lady , Cannot with too much zeale of rites be done , They are so sacred . PEC. But my Reputation . May suffer , and the worship of my family , When by so seruile meanes they both are sought . P. SE. You are a noble , young , free , gracious Lady , And would be euery bodie , in your bounty , But you must not be so . They are a few That know your merit , Lady , and can valew 't . Your selfe scarce vnderstands your proper powers . They are all-mighty , and that wee your seruants , That haue the honour here to stand so neere you , Know ; and can vse too . All this Nether-world Is yours , you command it , and doe 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 Queene Pecunia's . For that stile is yours , If mortals knew your Grace , or their owne good . MOR. Please your Grace to retire . BAN. I feare your Grace Hath ta'ne too much of the sharpe ayre . PEC. O no! I could endure to take a great deale more ( And with my constitution , were it left ) Vnto my choice , what thinke you of it , Statute ? STA. A little now and then does well , and keepes Your Grace in your complexion . BAN. And true temper . MOR. But too much Madame , may encrease cold rheumes , Nourish catarrhes , greene sicknesses , and agues , And put you in consumption . P. SE. Best to take Aduice of your graue women , Noble Madame , 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 't is not fit They find you here . STA. 'T will make your Grace too cheape To giue them audience presently . MOR. Leaue your Secretary , To answer them . PEC. Waite you here , Broker . BRO. I shal Madame . And doe your Graces trusts with diligence .
ACT. II. SCENE . II. PYED-MANTLE . BROKER . PENI-BOY . SEN. WHat luck 's this ? I am come an inch too late , Doe you heare Sir ? Is your worship o' the family Vnto the Lady Pecunia ? BRO. I serue her Grace , Sir , Aurelia Clara Pecunia , the Infanta . PYE. Has she all those Titles , and her Grace besides , I must correct that ignorance and ouer-sight , Before I doe present . Sir , I haue drawne A Pedigree for her Grace , though yet a Nouice In that so noble study . BRO. A Herald at Armes ? PYE. No Sir , a Pursiuant , my name is Pyed-mantle . BRO. Good Master Pyed-mantle . PYE. I haue deduc'd her . — BRO. From all the Spanish Mines in the West-Indi'es , I hope : for she comes that way by her mother , But , by her Grand-mother , she 's Dutches of Mines . PYE. From mans creation I haue brought her . BRO. No further ? Before Sr , long before , you haue done nothing else , Your Mines were before Adam , search your Office , Rowle fiue and twenty , you will finde it so , I see you are but a Nouice , Master Pyed-mantle . If you had not told mee so . PYE. Sir , an apprentise In armoiry . I haue read the Elements , And Accidence , and all the leading bookes , And I haue , now , vpon me a great ambition , How to be brought to her Grace , to kisse her hands . BRO. Why , if you haue acquaintance with Mistresse Statute , Or Mistresse Band , my Ladies Gentlewomen , They can induce you . One is a Iudges Daughter , But somewhat stately ; th' other Mistresse Band , Her father 's but a Scriuener , but shee can Almost as much with my Lady , as the other , Especially , if Rose Waxe the Chambermaid Be willing . Doe you not know her , Sir , neither ? PYE. No in troth Sir . BRO. She 's a good plyant wench , And easie to be wrought , Sir , but the Nurse Old mother Mortgage , if you haue a Tenement , Or such a morsell ? though shee haue no teeth , Shee loues a sweet meat , any thing that melts In her warme gummes , she could command it for you On such a trifle , a toy . Sir , you may see , How for your loue , and this so pure complexion , ( A perfect Sanguine ) I ha' ventured thus , The straining of a ward , opening a doore Into the secrets of our family : PYE. I pray you let mee know , Sir , vnto whom I am so much beholden ; but your name . BRO. My name is Broker , I am Secretary , And Vsher , to her Grace . PYE. Good Master Broker ! BRO. Good Mr. Pyed-mantle . PYE. Why ? you could do me , If you would , now , this fauour of your selfe . BRO. Truely , I thinke I could : but if I would , I hardly should , without , or Mistresse Band , Or Mistresse Statute , please to appeare in it . Or the good Nurse I told you of , Mistresse Mortgage . We know our places here , wee mingle not One in anothers sphere , but all moue orderly , In our owne orbes ; yet wee are all Concentricks . PYE. Well , Sir , I 'll waite a better season . BRO. Doe , And study the right meanes , get Mistresse Band Broker makes a mouth at him . He ieeres him againe . Old Peny-boy leaps To vrge on your behalfe , or little Waxe . PYE. I haue a hope , Sir , that I may , by chance , Light on her Grace , as she 's taking the ayre : BRO. That ayre of hope , has blasted many an ayrie Of Castrills like your selfe : Good Master Pyed-mantle , P.SE. Well said , Master Secretary , I stood behinde And heard thee all . I honor thy dispatches . If they be rude , vntrained it our method And haue not studied the rule , dismisse 'hem quickly , Where 's Lickfinger my Cooke ? that vnctuous rascall ? Hee 'll neuer keepe his houre , that vessell of kitchinstuffe !
ACT. II. SCENE . IIJ. BROKER . PENY-BOY . SE. LICK-FINGER . HEere hee is come , Sir . P. SE. Pox vpon him kidney , Alwaies too late ! LIC. To wish 'hem you , I confesse , That ha 'them already . P. SE. What ? LIC. The pox ! P.SE. The piles , The plague , and all diseases light on him , Knowes not to keepe his word . I 'ld keepe my word sure ! I hate that man that will not keepe his word , When did I breake my word ? LIC. Or I , till now ? And 't is but halfe an houre . P. SE. Halfe a yeere : To mee that stands vpon a minute of time . I am a iust man , I loue still to be iust . LIC. Why ? you thinke I can runne like light-foot Ralph , Or keep a wheele-barrow , with a sayle in towne here , To whirle me to you : I haue lost two stone Of suet i' the seruice posting hither , You might haue followed me like a watering pot , And seene the knots I made along the street ; My face dropt like the skimmer in a fritter panne , And my whole body , is yet ( to say the truth ) A rosted pound of butter , with grated bread in 't ! He sweepes his face . P. SE. Belieue you , he that list . You stay'd of purpose , To haue my venison stinke , and my fowle mortify'd , That you might ha' 'hem — LIc. A shilling or two cheaper , That 's your iealousie . P.SE. Perhaps it is . Will you goe in , and view , and value all ? Yonder is venison sent mee ! fowle ! and fish ! In such abundance ! I am sicke to see it ! I wonder what they meane ! I ha' told 'hem of it ! To burthen a weake stomacke ! and prouoke A dying appetite ! thrust a sinne vpon me I ne'r was guilty of ! nothing but gluttony ! Grosse gluttony ! that will vndoe this Land ! LIC. And bating two i' the hundred . P.SE. I , that same 's A crying sinne , a fearefull damn'd deuice , Eats vp the poore , deuoures 'hem — LIC. Sir , take heed What you giue out . P. SE. Against your graue great Solons ? Numae Pompilij , they that made that Law ? To take away the poore's inheritance ? It was their portion : I will stand to 't . And they haue rob'd 'hem of it , plainly rob'd 'hem , I still am a iust man , I tell the truth . When moneies went at Ten i' the hundred , I , And such as I , the seruants of Pecunia , Could spare the poore two out of ten , and did it , How say you , Broker ? ( LIC. Ask your Eccho ) BRO. You did it . P. SE. I am for Iustice , when did I leaue Iustice ? We knew 't was theirs , they 'had right and Title to 't . Now — LIC. You can spare 'hem nothing . P. SE. Very little , LIC. As good as nothing . P. SE. They haue bound our hands With their wise solemne act , shortned our armes . LIC. Beware those worshipfull eares , Sir , be not shortned , And you play Crop i the fleete , if you vse this licence . P.SE. What licence , Knaue ? Informer ? LIC. I am Lickfinger , Your Cooke . P. SE. A saucy Iacke you are , that 's once ; What said I , Broker ? BRO. Nothing that I heard , Sir . LIC. I know his gift , hee can be deafe when he list . P. SE. Ha' you prouided me my bushell of egges ? I did bespeake ? I doe not care how stale , Or stincking that they be ; let 'hem be rotten : For ammunition here to pelt the boyes , That breake my windowes ? LIC. Yes Sir , I ha' spar'd 'hem Out of the custard politique for you , the Maiors . P. SE. 'T is well , goe in , take hence all that excesse , Make what you can of it , your best : and when I haue friends , that I inuite at home , prouide mee Such , such , and such a dish , as I bespeake ; One at a time , no superfluitie . Or if you haue it not , returne mee money ; You know my waies . LIC. They are a little crooked . P. SE. How knaue ? LIC. Because you do indent . P. SE. 'T is true , Sir , I do indent you shall returne me money . LIC. Rather then meat , I know it : you are iust still . P. SE. I loue it still . And therefore if you spend The red-Deere pyes i' your house , or sell'hem forth , Sir , Cast so , that I may haue their coffins all , Return'd here , and pil'd vp : I would be thought To keepe some kind of house . LIC. By the mouldie signes ? P. SE. And then remember meat for my two dogs : Fat flaps of mutton ; kidneyes ; rumps of veale ; Good plentious scraps ; my maid shall eat the reliques . LIC. When you & your dogs haue din'd . A sweet reuersion . P. SE. Who 's here ? my Courtier ? and my little Doctor ? My Muster-Master ? and what Plouer 's that They haue brought to pull ? BRO. I know not , some green Plouer . I 'le find him out . P. SE. Doe , for I know the rest , They are the Ieerers , mocking , flouting Iackes .
ACT. II. SCENE . IV. FITTON . PENI-BOY . SE. ALMANACH . SHVNFIELD . MADRIGAL . LICK-FINGER . BROKER . HOw now old Money-Bawd ? w' are come — P. IV. To ieere me , As you were wont , I know you . ALM. No , to giue thee Some good security , and see Pecunia . P. SE. What is 't ? FIT. Our selues . ALM. Wee 'l be one bound for another . FIT. This noble Doctor here . ALM. This worthy Courtier . FIT. This Man o' war , he was our Muster-Master . ALM. But a Sea-Captaine now , braue Captaine Shun-field . He holds vp his nose . SHVN. You snuffe the ayre now , as the scent displeas'd you ? FIT. Thou needst not feare him man , his credit is sound , ALM. And seasoned too , since he tooke salt at Sea . P. SE. I doe not loue pickled security , Would I had one good Fresh-man in for all ; For truth is , you three stinke . SHV. You are a Rogue , P. SE. I thinke I am , but I will lend no money On that security , Captaine . ALM. Here 's a Gentleman , A Fresh-man i' the world , one Master Madrigall . FIT. Of an vntainted credit ; what say you to him ? SHV. Hee 's gone me thinkes , where is he ? Madrigall ? Madrigall steps aside with Broker . P. SE. H● has an odde singing name , is he an Heyre ? FIT. An Heyre to a faire fortune , ALM. And full hopes : A dainty Scholler , and a pretty Poët ! P. SE. Y 'aue said enough . I ha' no money , Gentlemen , An' he goe to 't in ryme once , not a penny . SHV. Why , hee 's of yeares , though he haue little beard . He snuffes againe . P. SE. His beard has time to grow . I haue no money : Let him still dable in Poetry . No Pecunia Is to be seene . ALM. Come , thou lou'st to be costiue Still i' thy curt'sie ; but I haue a pill , A golden pill to purge away this melancholly . SHV. T is nothing but his keeping o' the house here , With his two drowsie doggs . FIT. A drench of sacke At a good tauerne , and a fine fresh pullet , Would cure him . LIC. Nothing but a yong Haire in white-broth , I know his diet better then the Doctor . SHV. What Lick-finger ? mine old host of Ram-Alley ? You ha' some mereat here . ALM. Some dosser of Fish Or Fowle to fetch of . FIT. An odde bargaine of Venison , To driue . P. SE. Will you goe in , knaue ? LIC. I must needs , You see who driues me , gentlemen . ALM. Not the diuell . FIT , Hee may be in time , hee is his Agent , now . P. SE. You are all cogging Iacks , a Couy o' wits , The Ieerers , that still call together at meales : Or rather an Airy , for you are birds of prey : Peny-boy thrusts him in . And flie at all , nothing's too bigge or high for you . And are so truely fear'd , but not belou'd One of another : as no one dares breake Company from the rest , lest they should fall , Vpon him absent . ALM. O! the onely Oracle That euer peept , or spake out of a dublet . SHV. How the rogue stinks , worse then a Fishmonger sleeues ! FIT. Or Curriers hands ! SHV. And such a perboil'd visage ! FIT. His face lookes like a Diers apron , iust ! ALM. A sodden head , and his whole braine a possit curd ! P. SE. I , now you ieere , ieere on ; I haue no money . ALM. I wonder what religion hee 's of ! FIT. No certaine species sure , A kinde of mule ! That 's halfe an Ethnicke , halfe a Christian ! P. Se. I haue no monie , gentlemen . SHV. This stocke . He has no sense of any vertue , honour , Gentrie or merit . P. Se. You say very right , My meritorious Captaine , ( as I take it ! ) Merit will keepe no house , nor pay no house rent . Will Mistresse Merit goe to mercat , thinke you ? Set on the pot , or feed the family ? Will Gentry cleare with the Butcher ? or the Baker ? Fetch in a Phessant , or a brace of Partridges , From good-wife Poulter , for my Ladies supper . FIT. See! this pure rogue ! P. Se. This rogue has money tho' , My worshipfull braue Courtier has no money . No , nor my valiant Captaine . SHV. Hang you rascall . P. Se. Nor you , my learned Doctor . I lou'd you Whil you did hold your practice , and kill tripe wiues . And kept you to your vrinall ; but since your thombes Haue greas'd the Ephemerides , casting figures , And turning ouer for your Candle-rents , And your twelue houses in the Zodiacke : With your Almutens , Alma cantaras , Troth you shall cant alone for Peny-boy . SHV. I told you what we should find him , a meere Bawd . FIT. A rogue , a cheater . P.Se. What you please , gentlemen , I am of that humble nature and condition , Neuer to minde your worships , or take notice Of what you throw away , thus . I keepe house here Like a lame Cobler , neuer out of doores , With my two dogs , my friends ; and ( as you say ) Driue a quicke pretty trade , still . I get money : And as for Titles , be they Rogue , or Rascall , Or what your worships fancy , let 'hem passe As transitory things ; they 're mine to day , And yours to morrow . ALM. Hang thee dog . SHV. Thou curre . P. Se. You see how I doe blush , and am asham'd Of these large attributes ? yet you haue no money . ALM. Well wolfe , Hyaena , you old pockie rascall , You will ha' the Hernia fall downe againe Into your Scrotum , and I shall be sent for . I will remember then , that ; and your Fistula In ano , I cur'd you of . P. Se. Thanke your dog-leech craft . They were ' holesome piles , afore you meddl'd with'hem . ALM. What an vngratefull wretch is this ? SHV. Hee minds A curtesie no more , then London-bridge , What Arch was mended last . FIT. Hee neuer thinkes . More then a logge , of any grace at Court , A man may doe him : or that such a Lord Reach't him his hand . P. Se. O yes ! if grace would strike The brewers Tally , or my good Lords hand , Would quit the scores . But Sir , they will not doe it . Here 's a piece , my good Lord piece , doth all . He shewes a piece . Goes to the Butehers . fetches in a muton , Then to the Bakers , brings in bread , makes fires , Gets wine , and does more reall Curtesies , Then all my Lords , I know : My sweet Lord peece ! You are my Lord , the rest are cogging Iacks , Vnder the Rose . SHV. Rogue , I could beat you now , P. Se. True Captaine , if you durst beat any other . I should belieue you , but indeed you are hungry ; You are not angry Captaine , if I know you Aright ; good Captaine . No , Pecunia , Is to be seene , though Mistresse Band would speake , Or little Blushet - Waxe , be ne'r so easie , I 'll stop mine eares with her , against the Syrens , Court , and Philosophy . God be wi● you , Gentlemen , Prouide you better names . Pecunia is for you . FIT. What a damn'd Harpy it is ? where 's Madrigall ? Is he sneek'd hence . SHV. Here he comes with Broker , Madrigall returnes . Pecunia's Secretary . ALM. He may doe some good With him perhaps . Where ha you beene Madrigall ? MAD. Aboue with my Ladies women , reading verses . FIT. That was a fauour . Good morrow , Master Secretary . SHV. Good morrow , Master Vsher . ALM. Sir , by both Your worshipfull Titles , and your name Mas Broker . Good morrow . MAD. I did aske him if hee were Amphibion Broker . SHV. Why ? ALM. A creature of two natures , Because hee has two Offices . BRO. You may ieere , You ha' the wits , young Gentlemen . But your hope Of Helicon , will neuer carry it , heere , With our fat family ; we ha' the dullest , Most unboar'd Eares for verse amongst our females . I grieu'd you read so long , Sir , old Nurse Mortgage , Shee snoar'd i' the Chaire , and Statute ( if you mark'd her ) Fell fast a sleepe , and Mistresse Band , shee nodded , But not with any consent to what you read . They must haue somwhat else to chinke , then rymes . If you could make an Epitaph on your Land , ( Imagine it on departure ) such a Poem Would wake 'hem , and bring Waxe to her true temper . MAD. I faith Sir , and I will try . BRO. 'T is but earth , Fit to make brickes and tyles of . SHV. Pocks vpon 't 'T is but for pots , or pipkins at the best . If it would keepe vs in good tabacco pipes , BRO. 'T were worth keeping . FIT. Or in porc'lane dishes There were some hope . ALM. But this is a hungry soile , And must be helpt . FIT. Who would hold any Land To haue the trouble to marle it . SHV. Not a gentleman . BRO. Let clownes and hyndes affect it , that loue ploughes , And carts , and harrowes , and are busie still , In vexing the dull element . ALM. Our sweete Songster Shall rarifie t into ayre . FIT. And you Mas. Broker Shall haue a feeling . BRO. So it supple , Sir , The nerues . MAD. O! it shall be palpable , Make thee runne thorow a hoope , or a thombe-ring , The nose of a tabacco pipe , and draw Thy ductile bones out , like a knitting needle , To serue my subtill turnes . BRO. I shall obey Sir , And run a thred , like an houre-glasse . P. SE. Where is Broker ? Are not these flies gone yet ? pray quit my house , I 'le smoake you out else . FIT. O! the Prodigall ! Will you be at so much charge with vs , and losse ? MAD. I haue heard you ha' offered Sir , to lock vp smoake , And cauke your windores , spar up all your doores , Thinking to keepe it a close prisoner wi' you , And wept , when it went out , Sir , at your chimney . FIT. And yet his eyes were dryer then a pummise . SHV. A wretched rascall , that will binde about The nose of his bellowes , lest the wind get out When hee 's abroad . ALM. Sweepes downe no cobwebs here , But sells 'hem for cut-fingers . And the spiders , As creatures rear'd of dust , and cost him nothing , To fat old Ladies monkeyes . FIT. Hee has offered To gather vp spilt water , and preserue Each haire falls from him to stop balls with all . SHV. A slaue , and an Idolater to Pecunia ! P.SE. You all haue happy memories , Gentlemen , In rocking my poore cradle . I remember too , When you had lands , and credit , worship , friends , I , and could giue security : now , you haue none , Or will haue none right shortly . This can time , And the vicissitude of things . I haue All these ▪ and money too , and doe possesse 'hem , And am right heartily glad of all our memories , And both the changes . FIT. Let vs leaue the viper . P.SE. Hee 's glad he is rid of his torture , and so soone . Broker , come hither , vp , and tell your Lady , Shee must be readie presently , and Statute , Band , Mortgage , Wax . My prodigall young kinsman Will streight be here to see her ; ' top of our house , The flourishing , and flanting Peny-boy . Wee were but three of vs in all the world , My brother Francis , whom they call'd Franck Peny-boy , Father to this : hee 's dead . This Peny-boy , Is now the heire ! I , Richer Peny-boy , Not Richard , but old Harry Peny-boy , And ( to make rime ) close , wary Peny-boy I shall haue all at last , my hopes doe tell me . Goe , see all ready ; and where my dogs haue falted , Remoue it with a broome , and sweeten all With a slice of iuniper , not too much , but sparing , We may be faultie our selues else , and turne prodigall , In entertaining of the Prodigall . Here hee is ! and with him — what ! a Clapper Dudgeon ! That 's a good signe ; to haue the begger follow him , So neere at his first entry into fortune .
ACT. II. SCENE . V. PENY-BOY . IV. PENI-BOY . SEN. PICLOCK . CANTER . ) BROKER . PECVNIA . STATVTE . BAND . WAX. MORTGAGE . hid in the study . HOw now old Vncle ? I am come to see thee . And the braue Lady , here , the daughter of Ophir , They say thou keepst . P.SE. Sweet Nephew , if she were The daughter o' the Sunne , shee 's at your seruice , And so am I , and the whole family , Worshipfull Nephew . P. IV. Sai'st thou so , deare Vncle ? Welcome my friends then : Here is , Domine Picklocke : My man o' Law , sollicits all my causes . Followes my businesse , makes , and compounds my quarrells , Betweene my tenants and mee , sowes all my strifes , And reapes them too , troubles the country for mee , And vexes any neighbour , that I please . P.SE. But with commission ? P.IV. Vnder my hand & seale . P.Se. A worshipfull place ! PIC. I thanke his worship for it . P. SE. But what is this old Gentleman ? P.CA. A Rogue , A very Canter , I Sir , one that maunds Vpon the Pad , wee should be brothers though : For you are neere as wretched as my selfe , You dare not vse your money , and I haue none . P. SE. Not vse my money , cogging Iacke , who vses it At better rates ? le ts it for more i' the hundred , Then I doe , Sirrah ? P.IV. Be not angry vncle . P. SE. What ? to disgrace me , with my Queene ? as if I did not know her valew . P. CA. Sir , I meant Young Peny-boy is angyry . You durst not to enioy it . P.SE. Hold your peace , You are a Iacke . P. SE. Vncle , he shall be a Iohn , And , you goe to that , as good a man as you are . An' I can make him so , a better man , Perhaps I will too . Come , let vs goe . P. SE. Nay , kinsman , My worshipfull kinsman ; and the top of our house ; Doe not your penitent vncle that affront , For a rash word , to leaue his ioyfull threshold , Before you see the Lady that you long for . The Venus of the time , and state , Pecunia ! I doe perceiue , your bounty loues the man , For some concealed vertue , that he hides Vnder those rags . P.CA. I owe my happinesse to him , The waiting on his worship , since I brought him The happy Newes , welcome to all young heires . P. IV. Thou didst indeed , for which I thanke thee yet , Your Fortunate Princesse , Vncle , is long a comming . P. CA. She is not rigg'd , Sir , setting forth some Lady , Will cost as much as furnishing a Fleete , Here she 's come at last ,

The study is open'd where she sit in state .

Shee kisseth him .

and like a Galley Guilt i' the prow . P. IV. Is this Pecunia ? P. SE. Vouchsafe my toward kinsman , gracious Madame , The fauour of your hand . PEC. Nay , of my lips , Sir , To him . P. IV. She kisses like a mortall creature , Almighty Madame , I haue long'd to see you . PEC. And I haue my desire , Sir , to behold That youth , and shape , which in my dreames and wakes , I haue so oft contemplated , and felt Warme in my veynes , and natiue as my blood . When I was told of your arriuall here , I felt my heart beat , as it would leape out , In speach ; and all my face it was a flame , But how it came to passe I doe not know . P. IV. O! beauty loues to be more proud then nature , That made you blush . I cannot satisfie My curious eyes , by which alone I 'am happy , In my beholding you . P. CA. They passe the complement Prettily well . PIC. I , he does kisse her , I like him . He kisseth her . P. IV. My passion was cleare contrary , and doubtfull , I shooke for feare , and yet I danc'd for ioy , I had such motions as the Sunne-beames make Against a wall , or playing on a water , Or trembling vapour of a boyling pot — P. SE. That 's not so good , it should ha' bin a Crucible , With molten mettall , she had vnderstood it . P. IV. I cannot talke , but I can loue you , Madame . Are these your Gentlewomen ? I loue them too . And which is mistresse Statute ? Mistresse Band ? They all kisse close , the last stucke to my lips . BRO. It was my Ladies Chamber-maid , soft - Waxe . P. IV. Soft lips she has , I am sure on 't . Mother Mortgage , I 'll owe a kisse , till she be yonger , Statute , He doubles the complement to them all . Sweet Mistresse Band , and honey , little Waxe , We must be better acquainted . STA. We are but seruants , Sir . BAND . But whom her Grace is so content to grace , We shall obserue . WAX. Aand with all fit respect . MOR. In our poore places . WAX. Being her Graces shadowes . P. IV. A fine well-spoken family . What 's thy name ? BRO. Broker . P.IV. Me thinks my vncle should not need thee ; Who is a crafty Knaue , enough , beleeue it . Art thou her Graces Steward ? BRO. No , her Vsher , Sir . P. IV. What , o' the Hall ? thou hast a sweeping face , Thy beard is like a broome . BRO. No barren chin , Sir , I am no Eunuch , though a Gentleman-Vsher . P. IV. Thou shalt goe with vs. Vncle , I must haue My Princesse forth to day . P. SE. Whither you please , Sir , You shall command her . PEC. I will doe all grace To my new seruant . P. SE. Thanks vnto your bounty ; Old Peny-boy thankes her , but makes his condition . He is my Nephew , and my Chiefe , the Point , Tip , Top , and Tuft of all our family ! But , Sir , condition'd alwaies , you returne Statute , and Band home , with my sweet , soft Waxe , And my good Nurse , here , Mortgage . P. IV. O! what else ? P.SE. By Broker . P.IV. Do not feare . P.SE. She shall go wi' you , Whither you please , Sir , any where . P. CA. I see A Money-Bawd , is lightly a Flesh-Bawd , too . PIC. Are you aduis'd ? Now o' my faith , this Canter Would make a good graue Burgesse in some Barne . P.IV. Come , thou shalt go with vs , vncle . P.CA. By no means , Sir . P.IV. We 'll haue both Sack , and Fidlers . P.SE. I 'll not draw That charge vpon your worship . P.CA. He speakes modestly , And like an Vncle , P. SE. But Mas Broker , here , He shall attend you , Nephew ; her Graces Vsher , And what you fancy to bestow on him , Be not too lauish , vse a temperate bounty , I 'll take it to my selfe . P. IV. I will be princely , While I possesse my Princesse , my Pecunia . P. SE. Where is 't you eat ? P. IV. Hard by , at Picklocks lodging . Old Lickfinger 's the Cooke , here in Ram-Alley . P. SE. He has good cheare ; perhaps I 'll come and see you . P. CAN. O , fie ! an Alley , and a Cooks-shop , grosse , The Canter takes him aside , and perswades him , 'T will sauour , Sir , most rankly of 'hem both . Let your meat rather follow you , to a tauerne . PIC. A tauern 's as vnfit too , for a Princesse . P. CA. No , I haue knowne a Princesse , and a great one , Come forth of a tauerne . PIC. Not goe in , Sir , though . P. CA. She must goe in , if she came forth : the blessed Pokahontas ( as the Historian calls her And great Kings daughters of Virginia ) Hath bin in womb of a tauerne ; and besides , Your nasty Vncle will spoyle all your mirth , And be as noysome . PIC. That 's true . P. CA. No 'faith , Dine in Apollo with Pecunia , At braue Duke Wadloos , haue your friends about you , And make a day on 't . P. IV. Content 'ifaith : Our meat shall be brought thither . Simon the King , Will bid vs welcome . PIC. Patron , I haue a suite . P. IV. What 's that ? PIC. That you will carry the Infanta , To see the Staple ' , her Grace will be a grace , To all the members of it . P. IV. I will doe it : And haue her Armes set vp there , with her Titles , Aurelia Clara Pecunia , the Infanta . And in Apollo . Come ( sweete Princesse ) goe . P. SE. Broker , be careful of your charge . BRO. I warrant you .
The second Intermeane after the second Act. CENSVRE .

Why , this is duller and duller ! intolerable ! scuruy ! neither Diuel nor Foole in this Play ! pray God , some on vs be not a witch , Gossip , to forespeake the matter thus .

MIRTH.

I feare we are all such , and we were old enough : But we are not all old enough to make one witch . How like you the Vice i' the Play .

EXPECTATION .

Which is he ?

MIR.

Three or foure : old Couetousnesse , the sordid Peny-boy , the Money-bawd , who is a flesh-bawd too , they say .

TATLE.

But here is neuer a Fiend to carry him away . Besides , he has neuer a wooden dagger ! I 'ld not giue a rush for a Vice , that has not a wooden dagger to snap at euery body he meetes .

MIRTH.

That was the old way , Gossip , when Iniquity came in like Hokos Pokos , in a Iuglers ierkin , with false skirts , like the Knaue of Clubs ! but now they are attir'd like men and women o' the time , the Vices , male and female ! Prodigality like a young heyre , and his Mistresse Money ( whose fauours he scatters like counters ) prank't vp like a prime Lady , the Infanta of the Mines .

CEN.

I , therein they abuse an honorable Princesse , it is thought .

MIRTH.

By whom is it so thought ? or where lies the abuse ?

CEN.

Plaine in the stiling her Infanta , and giuing her three names .

MIRTH.

Take heed , it lie not in the vice of your interpretation : what haue Aurelia , Clara , Pecunia to do with any person ? do they any more , but expresse the property of Money , which is the daughter of earth , and drawne out of the Mines ? Is there nothing to be call'd Infanta , but what is subiect to exception ? Why not the Infanta of the Beggers ? or Infanta o' the Gipsies ? as well as King of Beggers , and King of Gipsies ?

CEN.

Well , and there were no wiser then I , I would sow him in a sack , and send him by sea to his Princesse .

MIRT.

Faith , and hee heard you Censure , he would goe neere to sticke the Asses eares to your high dressing , and perhaps to all ours for harkening to you .

TATLE.

By 'r Lady but he should not to mine , I would harken , and harken , and censure , if I saw cause , for th' other Princesse sake Pokahontas , surnam'd the blessed , whom hee has abus'd indeed ( and I doe censure him , and will censure him ) to say she came foorth of a Tauerne , was said like a paltry Poet.

MIRTH.

That 's but one Gossips opinion , and my Gossip Tatle's too ! but what saies Expectation , here , she sits sullen and silent .

EXP.

Troth I expect their Office , their great Office ! the Staple , what it will be ! they haue talk't on 't , but wee see 't not open yet ; would Butter would come in , and spread it-selfe a little to vs.

MIRTH.

Or the butter-box , Buz , the Emissary .

TATLE.

When it is churn'd , and dish't , we shall heare of it .

EXP.

If it be fresh and sweet butter ; but say it be sower and wheyish .

MIR.

Then it is worth nothing , meere pot - butter , fit to be spent in suppositories , or greasing coach-wheeles , stale stinking butter , and such I feare it is , by the being barrell'd vp so long .

EXPECTATION .

Or ranke Irish butter .

CEN.

Haue patience Gossips , say that contrary to our expectations it proue right , seasonable , salt butter .

MIR.

Or to the time of yeer , in Lent , delicate Almond butter ! I haue a sweet tooth yet , and I will hope the best ; and sit downe as quiet , and calme as butter , looke as smooth , and soft as butter ; be merry , and melt like butter ; laugh and be fat like butter : so butter answer my expectation , and be not mad butter ; If it be : It shall both Iuly and December see .

I say no more , But — Dixi.

TO THE READERS .

IN this following Act , the Office is open'd , and shew'n to the Prodigall , and his Princesse Pecunia , wherein the allegory , and purpose of the Author hath hitherto beene wholly mistaken , and so sinister an interpretation beene made , as if the soules of most of the Spectators had liu'd in the eyes and eares of these ridiculous Gossips that tattle betweene the Acts. But hee prayes you thus to mend it . To consider the Newes here vented , to be none of his Newes , or any reasonable mans ; but Newes made like the times Newes , ( a weekly cheat to draw mony ) and could not be fitter reprehended , then in raising this ridiculous Office of the Staple , wherin the age may see her owne folly , or hunger and thirst after published pamphlets of Newes , set out euery Saturday , but made all at home , & no syllable of truth in them : then which there cannot be a greater disease in nature , or a fouler scorne put vpon the times . And so apprehending it , you shall doe the Author , and your owne iudgement a courtesie , and perceiue the tricke of alluring money to the Office , and there cooz'ning the people . If you haue the truth , rest quiet , and consider that

Ficta , voluptatis causa , sint proxima veris.
ACT. III. SCENE . I. FITTON . CYMBAL , to them PICKLOCKE . REGISTER . CLERKE . THO: BARBER . YOu hunt vpon a wrong scent still , and thinke The ayre of things will carry 'hem , but it must Be reason and proportion , not fine sounds , My cousin Cymball , must get you this Lady . You haue entertain'd a petty-fogger here , Picklocke , with trust of an Emissaries place , And he is , all , for the young Prodigall , You see he has left vs. CYM. Come , you doe not know him , That speake thus of him . He will haue a tricke , To open vs a gap , by a trap-doore , When they least dreame on 't . Here he comes . What newes ? PICK. Where is my brother Buz ? my brother Ambler ? The Register , Examiner , and the Clerkes ? Appeare , and let vs muster all in pompe , For here will be the rich Infanta , presently , To make her visit . Peny-boy the heyre , My Patron , has got leaue for her to play With all her traine , of the old churle , her Guardian . Now is your time to make all court vnto her ; That she may first but know , then loue the place , And shew it by her frequent visits here : And afterwards , get her to soiourne with you . She will be weary of the Prodigall , quickly . CYM. Excellent newes ! FIT. And counsell of an Oracle ! CYM. How say you cousin Fitton ? FIT. brother Picklock , I shall adore thee , for this parcell of tidings , It will cry vp the credit of our Office , Eternally , and make our Staple immortall ! PICK. Looke your addresses , then , be faire and fit , And entertaine her , and her creatures , too , With all the migniardise , and quaint Caresses , You can put on 'hem . FIT. Thou seem'st , by thy language , No lesse a Courtier , then a man o' Law . I must embrace thee . PIC. Tut , I am Vertumnus , On euery change , or chance , vpon occasion , A true Chamaelion , I can colour for 't . I moue vpon my axell , like a turne-pike . Fit my face to the parties , and become Streight , one of them . CYM. Sirs , vp , into your Desks , And spread the rolls vpon the Table , so . Is the Examiner set ? REG. Yes , Sir . CYM. Ambler , and Buz , Are both abroad , now . PIC. Wee 'll sustaine their parts . No matter , let them ply the affayres without , Fitton puts on the office cloake , and Cymbal the gowne . Let vs alone within , I like that well . On with the cloake , and you with the Staple gowne , And keep your state , stoupe only to the Infanta ; We 'll haue a flight at Mortgage , Statute , Band , And hard , but we 'll bring Wax vnto the retriue : Each know his seuerall prouince , and discharge it . FIT. Fitton is brought about . I do admire this nimble ingine , Picklock . CYM. Cuz , What did I say ? FIT. You haue rectified my errour !
ACT. III. SCENE . II. PENI-BOY . IV. P. CANTER . PECVNIA . STATVTE . BAND . MORTGAGE . WAX. BROKER . CVSTOMERS . BY your leaue , Gentlemen , what newes ? good , good still ? I' your new Office ? Princesse , here 's the Staple ! This is the Gouernor , kisse him , noble Princesse , For my sake . Thom , how is it honest Thom ? Hee tells Pecunia of Thom. How does thy place , and thou ? my Creature , Princesse ? This is my Creature , giue him your hand to kisse , He was my Barber , now he writes Clericus ! I bought this place for him , and gaue it him . P. CA. He should haue spoke of that , Sir , and not you : Two doe not doe one Office well . P. IV. 'T is true , But I am loth to lose my curtesies . P. CA. So are all they , that doe them , to vaine ends , And yet you do lose , when you pay you selues . P. IV. No more o' your sentences , Canter , they are stale , We come for newes , remember where you are . I pray thee let my Princesse heare some newes , Good Master Cymbal . CYM. What newes would she heare ? Or of what kind , Sir ? P. IV. Any , any kind . So it be newes , the newest that thou hast , Some newes of State , for a Princesse . CYM. Read from Rome , there . Newes from Rome . THO. They write , the King of Spaine is chosen Pope . P. IV. How ? THO. And Emperor too , the thirtieth of February . P. IV. Is the Emperor dead ? CYM. No , but he has resign'd , Newes of the Emperor , and Tilly. And trailes a pike now , vnder Tilly. FIT. For pennance . P. IV. These will beget strange turnes in Christendome ! THO. And Spinola is made Generall of the Iesuits .

Newes of Spinola . The fifth Monarchy , vniting the Ecclesiasticke and Secular power .

A plot of the house of Austria .

More of Spinola .

P. IV. Stranger ! FIT. Sir , all are alike true , and certaine . CYM. All the pretence to the fifth Monarchy , Was held but vaine , vntill the ecclesiastique , And secular powers , were vnited , thus , Both in one person . FIT. 'T has bin long the ayme Of the house of Austria . CYM. See but Maximilian . His letters to the Baron of Bouttersheim , Or Scheiter-huyssen . FIT. No , of Liechtenstein , Lord Paul , I thinke . P. IV. I haue heard of some such thing . Don Spinola made Generall of the Iesuits ! A Priest ! CYM. O , no , he is dispenc'd with all , And the whole society , who doe now appeare The onely Enginers of Christendome . P. IV. They haue bin thought so long , and rightly too . FIT. Witnesse the Engine , that they haue presented him , To winde himselfe with , vp , into the Moone : And thence make all his discoueries ! CYM. Read on . THO. And Vittellesco , he that was last Generall , Being now turn'd Cooke to the society , Has drest his excellence , His Egges . such a dish of egges — P. IV. What potch'd ? THO. No , powder'd . CYM. All the yolke is wilde fire , As he shall need beleaguer no more townes , But throw his Egge in . FIT. It shall cleare consume , Palace , and place ; demolish and beare downe , All strengths before it ! CYM. Neuer be extinguish'd ! Till all become one ruine ! FI. And from Florence , THO. They write was found in Galileos study , Galilaeo's study . A burning Glasse ( which they haue sent him too ) To fire any Fleet that 's out at Sea — CYM. By Mooneshine , is 't not so ? THO. Yes , Sir , i' the water . The burning glasse , by Moon-shine . P. IV. His strengths will be vnresistable , if this hold ! Ha' you no Newes against him , on the contrary ? CLA. The Holanders Ecle . Yes , Sit , they write here , one Cornelius-Son , Hath made the Hollanders an inuisible Eele , To swimme the hauen at Dunkirke , and sinke all The shipping there . P. IV. Why ha'not you this , Thom ? CYM. Peny-boy will haue him change sides : Because he keeps the Pontificiall side . P. IV. How , change sides , Thom. 'T was neuer in my thought To put thee vp against our selues . Come downe , Quickly . CYM. Why , Sir ? P. IV. I venter'd not my mony Vpon those termes : If he may change ; why so . I 'll ha him keepe his owne side , sure . FIT , Why , let him , 'T is but writing so much ouer againe . P.IV. For that I 'll beare the charge : There 's two Pieces , FIT. Come , do not stick with the gentleman . CYM. I 'l take none Sir . And yet he shall ha' the place . P.IV. They shall be ten , then , though hee pay for it . Vp , Thom: and th' Office shall take 'hem . Keep your side , Thom. Know your owne side , doe not forsake your side , Thom. CYM. Read . THO. They write here one Cornelius-Son , Hath made the Hollanders an inuisible Eele , To swimme the Hauen at Dunkirke , and sinke all The shipping there . P. IV. But how is 't done ? CYM. I 'll shew you Sit. It is an Automa , runnes vnderwater , With a snug nose , and has a nimble taile Made like an auger , with which taile she wrigles Betwixt the coasts of a Ship , and sinkes it streight . P.IV. Whence ha' you this newes . FIT. From a right hand I assure you , The Eele-boats here , that lye before Queen-Hyth , Came out of Holland . P.IV. A most braue deuice , To murder their flat bottomes . FIT. I doe grant you : Spinola's new proiect : an army in cork-shooes . But what if Spinola haue a new Proiect : To bring an army ouer in corke-shooes , And land them , here , at Harwich ? all his horse Are shod with corke , and fourescore pieces of ordinance , Mounted vpon cork-carriages , with bladders , In stead of wheeles to runne the passage ouer At a spring-tide . P.IV. Is' t true ? FIT. As true as the rest . P.IV. He 'll neuer leaue his engines : I would heare now Some curious newes . CYM. As what ? P.IV. Magick , or Alchimy Or flying i' the ayre , I care not what . CLA. They write from Libtzig ( reuerence to your eares ) Extraction of farts The Art of drawing farts out of dead bodies , Is by the Brotherhood of the Rosie Crosse , Produc'd vnto perfection , in so sweet And rich a tincture — FIT. As there is no Princesse , But may perfume her chamber with th' extraction . P.IV. There 's for you . Princesse . P. CA. What , a fart for her ? P. IV. The perpetuall Motion . I meane the spirit . P. CA. Beware how she resents it . P.IV. And what hast thou , Thom ? THO. The perpetuall Motion , Is here found out by an Alewife in Saint Katherines , At the signe o' the dancing Beares . P.IV. What , from her tap ? I 'll goe see that , or else I 'll send old Canter . He can make that discouery . P. CA. Yes , in Ale . P. IV. Let me haue all this Newes , made vp , and seal'd . REG. The people presse vpon vs , please you , Sir , The Register offers him a roome . Withdraw with your faire Princesse . There 's a roome Within , Sir , to retyre too . P. IV. No , good Register , We 'll stand it out here , and obserue your Office ; The Office call'd the house of fame . What Newes it issues . REG. 'T is the house of fame , Sir , Where both the curious , and the negligent ; The scrupulous , and carelesse ; wilde , and stay'd ; The idle , and laborious ; all doe meet , To tast the Cornu copiae of her rumors , Which she , the mother of sport , pleaseth to scatter Among the vulgar : Baites , Sir , for the people ! And they will bite like fishes . P. IV. Let 's see 't . DOP. Ha' you in your prophane Shop , any Newes 1. Cu● A shest . baptist . O' the Saints at Amsterdam ? REG. Yes , how much would you ? DOP. Six peny worth . REG. Lay your mony down , read , Thomas . THO. The Saints do write , they expect a Prophet . shortly , Prophet Baal expected in Holland . The Prophet Baal , to be sent ouer to them , To calculate a time , and halfe a time , And the whole time , according to Naömetry . P.IV. What 's that ? THO. The measuring o' the Temple : a Cabal Found out but lately , and set out by Archie , Or some such head , of whose long coat they haue heard , Archie mourn'd then . And being black , desire it . DOP. Peace be with them ! REG. So there had need , for they are still by the eares One with another . DOP. It is their zeale . REG. Most likely . DOP. Haue you no other of that species ? REG. Yes , But dearer , it will cost you a shilling . DOP. Verily , There is a' nine-pence , I will shed no more . REG. Not ; to the good o' the Saints ? DOP. I am not sure , That man is good . REG. Read , from Constantinople , 〈◊〉 penny'orth . THO. They giue out here , the grand Signior The great Turk turn'd Christian . Is certainely turn'd Christian , and to cleare The controuersie 'twixt the Pope and him , Which is the Antichrist ; he meanes to visit The Church at Amsterdam , this very Sommer , And quit all marks o' the beast . DOP. Now ioyfull tydings . Who brought in this ? Which Emissary ? REG. Buz. Your countrey-man . DOP. Now , blessed be the man , And his whole Family , with the Nation . REG. Yes , for Amboyna , and the Iustice there ! This is a Doper , a she Anabaptist ! Seale and deliuer her her newes , dispatch . C. 2. 2. Cust . Ha' you any newes from the Indies ? any mirac Done in Iapan , by the Iesuites ? or in China ? CLA. A Coloney of Cookes sent ouer to conuert the Canniballs . No , but we heare of a Colony of cookes To be set a shore o' the coast of America , For the conuersion of the Caniballs , And making them good , eating Cbristians . Here comes the Colonell that vndertakes it . C. 2. Who ? captaine Lickfinger ? LIC. 3. Cust. By Colonel Lickfinger . Newes , newes my boyes ! I am to furnish a great feast to day , And I would haue what newes the Office affords . CLA. We were venting some of you , of your new project , REG. Afore 't was paid for , you were somewhat too hasty . P. IV. What Lickfinger ! wilt thou conuert the Caniballs , With spit and pan Diuinity ? LIC. Sir , for that I will not vrge , but for the fire and zeale To the true cause ; thus I haue vndertaken : With two Lay-brethren , to my selfe , no more , Oleo the broach , th' other o' the boyler , In one sixe months , and by plaine cookery , No magick to 't , but old Iaphets physicke , The father of the Europaean Arts , To make such sauces for the Sauages , And cookes their meats , with those inticing steemes , As it would make our Caniball-Christians , Forbeare the mutuall eating one another , Which they doe doe , more cunningly , then the wilde Anthropophagi ; that snatch onely strangers , Like my old Patrons dogs , there . P. IV. O , my Vncles ! Is dinner ready , Lickfinger ? LIC. When you please , Sir . I was bespeaking but a parcell of newes , To strew out the long meale withall , but 't seemes You are furnish'd here already . P. IV. O , not halfe ! LIC. What Court-newes is there ? any Proclamations , Or Edicts to come forth . THO. Yes , there is one . That the Kings Barber has got , for aid of our trade : Whereof there is a manifest decay . T● let long hayre runne to seed , to sow bald pates . A Precept for the wearing of long haire , To runne to seed , to sow bald pates withall , And the preseruing fruitfull heads , and chins , To help a mistery , almost antiquated . Such as are bald and barren beyond hope , Are to be separated , and set by For Vshers , to old Countesses . LIC. And Coachmen . To mount their boxes , reuerently , and driue , Like Lapwings , with a shell vpo' their heads . Thorow the streets . Ha' you no Newes o' the Stage ? They 'll aske me abou new Playes , at dinner time . And I should be as dumbe as a fish . THO. O! yes . There is a Legacy left to the Kings Players , Spalato's Legacy to the Players . Both for their various shifting of their Scene , And dext'rous change o' their persons to all shapes , And all disguises : by the right reuerend Archbishop of Spalato . LIC. He is dead , That plai'd him ! THO. Then , h' has lost his share o' the Legacy . LIC. What newes of Gundomar ? THO. A second Fistula , Or an excoriation ( at the least ) For putting the poore English-play , was writ of him , Gundomar's vse of the game at Chesse , or Play so called . To such a sordid vse , as ( is said ) he did , Of cleansing his posterior's . LIC. Iustice ! Iustice ! THO. Since when , he liues condemn'd to his share , at Bruxels . And there sits filing certaine politique hinges , To hang the States on , h' has heau'd off the hookes . LIC. What must you haue for these ? P. IV. Thou shalt pay nothing , But reckon 'hem in i' the bill . There 's twenty pieces , Hee giues 20. pieces , to the Office . Doubles it . Her Grace bestowes vpon the Office , Thom , Write thou that downe for Newes . REG. We may well do 't , We haue not many such . P. IV. There 's twenty more , If you say so ; my Princesse is a Prinecesse ! And put that too , vnder the Office Seale . CYM. If it will please your Grace to soiourne here , Cymbal takes Pecunia aside , courts and wooes her , to the Office . And take my roofe for couert , you shall know The rites belonging to your blood , and birth , Which few can apprehend : these sordid seruants , Which rather are your keepers , then attendants , Should not come neere your presence . I would haue You waited on by Ladies , and your traine Borne vp by persons of quality , and honour , Your meat should be seru'd in with curious dances , And set vpon the boord , with virgin hands , Tuned to their voices ; not a dish remou'd , But to the Musicke , nor a drop of wine , Mixt , with his water , without Harmony , PEC. You are a Courtier , Sir , or somewhat more ; That haue this tempting language ! CYM. I 'm your seruant , Exellent Princesse , and would ha' you appeare That , which you are . Come forth State , and wonder , Of these our times , dazle the vulgar eyes . And strike the people blind with admiration . P.CAN. Why , that 's the end of wealth ! thrust riches outward , And remaine beggers within : contemplate nothing But the vile sordid things of time , place , money , And let the noble , and the precious goe , Vertue and honesty ; hang 'hem ; poore thinne membranes Of honour ; who respects them ? O , the Fates ! How hath all iust , true reputation fall'n , Fitton hath beene courting the waiting-women , this whole , and is ieered by them . Since money , this base money 'gan to haue any ! BAN. Pitty , the Gentleman is not immortall . WAX. As he giues out , the place is , by description . FIT. A very Paradise , if you saw all , Lady . WAX. I am the Chamber-maid , Sir , you mistake , My Lady may see all . FIT. Sweet Mistresse Statute , gentle Mistresse Band , And Mother Mortgage , doe but get her Grace To soiourne here . — PIC. I thanke you gentle Waxe , MOR. If it were a Chattell , I would try my credit . PIC. So it is , for terme of life , we count it so . STA. She meanes , Inheritance to him , and his heyres : Or that he could assure a State , of yeeres : I 'll be his Statute-Staple , Statute-Merchant , Or what he please . PIC. He can expect no more . BAN. His cousin Alderman Security , That he did talke of so , e'en now — STA. Who , is The very broch o' the bench , gem o' the City . BAN. He and his Deputy , but assure his life For one seuen yeeres . STA. And see what we 'll doe for him , Vpon his scarlet motion . BAN. And old Chaine , That drawes the city-eares . WAX. When he sayes nothing , But twirles it thus . STA. A mouing Oratory ! BAN. Dumb Rethoricke , and silent eloquence ! As the fine Poet saies ! FIT. Come , they all scorne vs , Doe you not see 't ? the family of scorne ! BRO. Doe not belieue him ! gentle Master Picklocke , They vnderstood you not : the Gentlewomen , They thought you would ha' my Lady soiourne , with you , And you desire but now and then , a visit ? PIC. Yes , if she pleas'd , Sir , it would much aduance Vnto the Office , her continuall residence ! ( I speake but as a member ) BRO. 'T is inough . I apprehend you . And it shall goe hard , But I 'll so worke , as some body shall worke her ! PIC. 'pray you change with our Master , but a word about it . P. IV. Well , Lickfinger , see that our meat be ready , Thou hast Newes inough . LIC. Something of Bethlem Gabor , And then I 'm gone . THO. We heare he has deuis'd Bethlem Gabors Drum . A Drumme , to fill all Christendome with the sound : But that he cannot drawe his forces neere it , To march yet , for the violence of the noise . And therefore he is faine by a designe , To carry 'hem in the ayre , and at some distance , Till he be married , then they shall appeare . LIC. Or neuer ; well , God b'w'you ( stay , who 's here ? ) A little of the Duke of Bauier , and then — The Duke of Bauier . CLA. H' has taken a gray habit , and is turn'd The Churches Millar , grinds the catholique grist With euery wind : and Tilly takes the toll . CVS. 4. Ha' you any newes o' the Pageants to send downe ? 4. Cust . The Pageants . Into the seuerall Counties . All the countrey Expected from the city most braue speeches , Now , at the Coronation . LIC. It expected More then it vnderstood : for , they stand mute , Poore innocent dumb things ; they are but wood . As is the bench and blocks , they were wrought on , yet If May-day come , and the Sunne shine , perhaps , They 'll sing like Memnons Statue , and be vocall . CVS. 5. Ha' you any Forest-newes ? THO. None very wild , Sir , 5. Cust . The new Parke in the Forrest of Fooles . Some tame there is , out o' the Forrest of fooles , A new Parke is a making there , to seuer Cuckolds of Antler , from the Rascalls . Such , Whose wiues are dead , and haue since cast their heads , Shall remaine Cuckolds-pollard . LIC. I 'll ha' that newes . CVS. 1. And I. 2. And I. 3. And I. 4. And I. 5. And I. CYM. Sir , I desire to be excus'd ; and , Madame : Peny-boy would inuite the Master of the Office I cannot leaue my Office , the first day . My Cousin Fitton here , shall wait vpon you . And Emissary Picklocke . P. IV. And Thom: Clericus ? CYM. I cannot spare him yet , but he shall follow you , When they haue ordered the Rolls . Shut vp th' Office , When you ha' done , till two a clocke .
ACT. III. SCENE . III. SHVNFIELD . ALMANACK . MADRIGAL . CLERKES . BY your leaue , Clerkes , Where shall we dine to day ? doe you know ? the Ieerers . ALM. Where 's my fellow Fitton ? THO. New gone forth . SHV. Cannot your Office tell vs , what braue fellowes Doe eat together to day , in towne , and where ? THO. Yes , there 's a Gentleman , the braue heire , yong Peny-boy . Dines in Apollo . MAD. Come , let 's thither then , I ha' supt in Apollo ! ALM. With the Muses ? MAD. No , Sir . But with two Gentlewomen , call'd , the Graces . ALM. They ' were euer three in Poetry . MAD. This was truth , THO. Sir , Master Fitton 's there too ! SHV. All the better ! ALM. We may haue a ieere , perhaps . SHV. Yes , you 'll drink , Doctor . ( If there be any good meat ) as much good wine now , As would lay vp a Dutch Ambassador . THO. If he dine there , he 's sure to haue good meat , For , Lickfinger prouides the dinner . ALM. Who ? The glory o' the Kitchin ? that holds Cookery , A trade from Adam ? quotes his broths , and sallads ? And sweares he 's not dead yet , but translated In some immortall crust , the past of Almonds ? MAD. The same . He holds no man can be a Poet , That is not a good Cooke , to know the palats , And seuerall tastes o' the time . He drawes all Arts Out of the Kitchin , but the Art of Poetry , which he concludes the same with Cookery . SHV. Tut , he maintaines more heresies then that . He 'll draw the Magisterium from a minc'd-pye , And preferre Iellies , to your Iulips , Doctor . ALM. I was at an Olla Podrida of his making , Was a braue piece of cookery ! at a funerall ! But opening the pot-lid , he made vs laugh , who 'had wept all day ! and sent vs such a tickling Into our nostrills , as the funerall feast Had bin a wedding-dinner . SHV. Gi 'him allowance , And that but moderate , he will make a Syren Sing i' the Kettle , send in an Arion , In a braue broth , and of a watry greene , Iust the Sea-colour , mounted on the backe Of a growne Cunger , but , in such a posture , As all the world would take him for a Dolphin . MAD. Hee 's a rare fellow , without question ! but He holds some Paradoxes . ALM. I , and Pseudodoxes . Mary , for most , he 's Orthodox i' the Kitchin . MAD. And knowes the Clergies tast ! ALM. I , and the Layties ! SHV. You thinke not o' your time , we 'll come too late , If we go not presently . MAD. Away then . SHV. Sirs , You must get o' this newes , to store your Office , Who dines and sups i' the towne ? where , and with whom ? 'T will be beneficiall : when you are stor'd ; And as we like our fare , we shall reward you . CLA. A hungry trade , 't will be . THO. Much like D. Humphries , But , now and then , as th' holesome prouerb saies , 'T will obsonare famem ambulando . CLA. Shut vp the Office : gentle brother Thomas . THO. Brother , Nathaniel , I ha' the wine for you . I hope to see vs , one day , Emissaries . CLA. Why not ? S'lid , I despaire not to be Master !
ACT. III. SCENE . IV. PENI-BOY . SE. BROKER . CYMBAL . HOw now ? I thinke I was borne vnder Hercules starre ! He is started with Broker's comming back . Nothing but trouble and tumult to oppresse me ? Why come you backe ? where is your charge ? BRO. I ha' brought A Gentleman to speake with you ? P. SE. To speake with me ? You know 't is death for me to speake with any man . What is he ? set me a chaire . BRO. He 's the Master Of the great Office . P. SE. What ? BRO. The Staple of Newes , A mighty thing , they talke Six thousand a yeere . P. SE. Well bring your sixe in . Where ha' you left Pecunia ? BRO. Sir , in Apollo , they are scarce set . P. SE. Bring sixe . BRO. Here is the Gentleman . P. SE. He must pardon me , I cannot rise , a diseas'd man . CYM. By no meanes , Sir , Respect your health , and ease . P.SE. It is no pride in me ! But paine , paine ; what 's your errand , Sir , to me ? Hee sends Broker backe . Broker , returne to your charge , be Argus-eyed , Awake , to the affaire you haue in hand , Serue in Apollo , but take heed of Bacchus . Goe on , Sir . CYM. I am come to speake with you . P. SE. 'T is paine for me to speake , a very death , But I will heare you ! CYM. Sir , you haue a Lady , That soiournes with you . P. SE. Ha ? I am somewhat short He pretends infirmity . In my sense too — CYM. Pecunia . P. SE. O' that side , Very imperfect , on — CYM. Whom I would draw Oftner to a poore Office , I am Master of — P. SE. My hearing is very dead , you must speake quicker . CYM. Or , if it please you , Sir , to let her soiourne In part with me ; I haue a moyety We will diuide , halfe of the profits . P. SE. Ha ? I heare you better now , how come they in ? Is it a certaine businesse , or a casuall ? For I am loth to seeke out doubtfull courses , Runne any hazardous paths , I loue streight waies , A iust , and vpright man ! now all trade totters . The trade of money , is fall'n , two i' the hundred . That was a certaine trade , while th' age was thrifty , And men good husbands , look'd vnto their stockes , Had their mindes bounded ; now the publike Riot Prostitutes all , scatters away in coaches , In foot-mens coates , and waiting womens gownes , They must haue veluet hanches ( with a pox ) Hee talkes vehemently and aloud . Now taken vp , and yet not pay the vse ; Bate of the vse ? I am mad with this times manners . CYM. You said e'en now , it was death for you to speake . P. SE. I , but an anger , a iust anger , ( as this is ) Puts life in man . Who can endure to see The fury of mens gullets , and their groines ? Is mou'd more and more . What fires , what cookes , what kitckins might be spar'd ? What Stewes , Ponds , Parks , Coupes , Garners , Magazines ? What veluets , tissues , scarfes , embroyderies ? And laces they might lacke ? They couet things — Superfluous still ; when it were much more honour They could want necessary ! What need hath Nature Of siluer dishes ? or gold chamber-pots ? Of perfum'd napkins ? or a numerous family , To see her eate ? Poore , and wise she , requires Meate onely ; Hunger is not ambitious : Say , that you were the Emperour of pleasures , The great Dictator of fashions , for all Europe , And had the pompe of all the Courts , and Kingdomes , Laid forth vnto the shew ? to make your selfe Gaz'd , and admir'd at ? You must goe to bed , And take your naturall rest : then , all this vanisheth . Your brauery was but showen ; 't was not possest : While it did boast it selfe , it was then perishing . CYM. This man has healthfull lungs . P. SE. All that excesse Appear'd as little yours , as the Spectators . It scarce fills vp the expectation Of a few houres , that entertaines mens liues . CYM. He has the monopoly of sole-speaking . He is angry . Why , good Sir ? you talke all . P. SE. Why should I not ? Is it not vnder mine owne roofe ? my feeling ? CYM. But I came hete to talk with you . P. S. Why , an' I will not Talke with you , Sir ? you are answer'd , who sent for you ? CYM. Bids him get out of his house . No body sent for me — P. SE. But you came , why then Goe , as you came , here s no man holds you , There , There lies your way , you see the doore . CYM. This 's strange ! P. SE. 'T is my ciuility , when I doe not rellish The party , or his businesse . Pray you be gone , Sir . I 'll ha' no venter in your Ship , the Office Your Barke of Six , if'twere sixteene , good , Sir , CYM. Cymbal railes at him . He ieeres him . You are a rogue . P. SE. I thinke I am Sir , truly . CYM. A Rascall , and a money-bawd . P. SE. My surnames : CYM. A wretched Rascall ! P. S. You will ouerflow — And spill all . CYM. Caterpiller , moath , Horse-leach , and dung-worme — P. SE. Still you lose your labor . I am a broken vessell , all runnes out : A shrunke old Dryfat . Fare you well , good Sixe .
The third Intermeane after the third Act. CENSVRE .

A notable tough Rascall ! this old Peny-boy ! right City-bred !

MIRTH.

In Siluer-streete , the Region of money , a good seat for a Vsurer .

TATLE.

He has rich ingredients in him , I warrant you , if they were extracted , a true receit to make an Alderman , an' he were well wrought vpon , according to Art .

EXP.

I would faine see an Alderman in chimia ! that is a treatise of Aldermanity truely written .

CEN.

To shew how much it differs from Vrbanity .

MIRTH.

I , or humanity . Either would appeare in this Peny boy , an' hee were rightly distill'd . But how like you the newes ? you are gone from that .

CEN.

O , they are monstrous ! scuruy ! and stale ! and too exotick ! ill cook'd ! and ill dish'd !

EXP.

They were as good , yet , as butter could make them !

TAT.

In a word , they were beastly buttered ! he shall neuer come o' my bread more , nor my in mouth , if I can helpe it . I haue had better newes from the bake-house , by ten thousand parts , in a morning : or the conduicts in Westminster ! all the newes of Tutle-street , and both the Alm'ries ! the two Sanctuaries long , and round Wool-staple ! with Kings-street , and Chanon-row to boot !

MIRTH.

I , my Gossip Tatle knew what fine slips grew in Gardiners-lane ; who kist the Butchers wife with the Cowes-breath ; what matches were made in the bowling-Alley , and what bettes wonne and lost ; how much grieft went to the Mill and what besides : who coniur'd in Tutle-fields , and how many ? when they neuer came there . And which Boy rode vpon Doctor Lambe , in the likenesse of a roaring Lyon , that runne away with him in his teeth , and ha's not deuour'd him yet .

TAT.

Why , I had it from my maid Ioane Heare-say : and shee had it from a limbe o' the schoole , shee saies , a little limbe of nine yeere old ; who told her , the Master left out his coniuring booke one day , and hee found it , and so the Fable came about . But whether it were true , or no , we Gossips are bound to beleeue it , an 't be once out , and a foot : how should wee entertaine the time else , or finde our selues in fashionable discourse , for all companies , if we do not credit all , and make more of it , in the reporting ?

CEN.

For my part , I beleeue it : and there were no wiser then I , I would haue ne'er a cunning Schoole-Master in England . I meane a Cunning-Man , a Schoole-Master ; that is a Coniurour , or a Poet , or that had any acquaintance with a Poet. They make all their schollers Play-boyes ! Is' t not a fine sight , to see all our children made Enterluders ? Doe wee pay our money for this ? wee send them to learne their Grammar , and their Terence , and they learne their play-books ? well , they talke , we shall haue no more Parliaments ( God blesse vs ) but an 'wee haue , I hope , Zeale-of-the-land Buzy , and my Gossip , Rabby Trouble-truth will start vp , and see we shall haue painfull good Ministers to keepe Schoole , and Catechise our youth , and not teach 'hem to speake Playes , and Act Fables of false newes , in this manner , to the super-●exation of Towne and Countrey , with a wanion .

ACT. IIII. SCENE . I. PENY-BOY . IV. FITTON . SHVNFIELD . ALMANACK . MADRIGAL . CANTER . PICKLOCKE . COme , Gentlemen , let 's breath from healths a while . This Lickfinger has made vs a good dinner , For our Pecunia : what shal 's doe with our selues , While the women water ? and the Fidlers eat ? FIT. Let 's ieere a little . P. IV. Ieere ? what 's that ? SHV. Expect , Sr. ALM. We first begin with our selues , & then at you , SHV. A game we vse . MAD. We ieere all kind of persons We meete withall , of any rancke or quality , And if we cannot ieere them , we ieere our selues . P. CA. A pretty sweete society ! and a gratefull ! PIC. 'Pray let 's see some . SHV. Haue at you , then Lawyer . They say , there was one of your coate in Bet'lem , lately , ALM. I wonder all his Clients were not there . MAD. They were the madder sort . PIC. Except , Sir , one Like you , and he made verses . FIT. Madrigall , A ieere . MAD. I know . SHV. But what did you doe , Lawyer ? When you made loue to Mistresse Band , at dinner . MAD. Why ? of an Aduocate , he grew the Clyent . P. IV. Well play'd , my Poet. MAD. And shew'd the Law of nature Was there aboue the Common-Law . SHV. Quit , quit , P. IV. Call you this ieering ? I can play at this , 'T is like a Ball at Tennis . FIT. Very like , But we were not well in . ALM. 'T is indeed , Sir . When we doe speake at volley , all the ill We can one of another . SHV. As this morning , ( I would you had heard vs ) of the Rogue your Vncle . ALM That Mony-bawd . MAD. We call'd him a Coat-card O' the last order . P. IV. What 's that ? a Knaue ? MAD. Some readings haue it so , my manuscript Doth speake it , Varlet . P. CA. And your selfe a Foole O' the first ranke , and one shall haue the leading O' the right-hand file , vnder this braue Commander . P. IV. What saist thou , Canter ? P. CA. Sir , I say this is A very wholesome exercise , and comely . Like Lepers , shewing one another their scabs . Or flies feeding on vlcers . P. IV. What Newes Gentlemen ? Ha' you any newes for after dinner ? me thinks We should not spend our time vnprofitably . P. CA. They neuer lie , Sir , betweene meales , 'gainst supper You may haue a Bale or two brought in . FIT. This Canter , Is an old enuious Knaue ! ALM. A very Rascall ! FIT. I ha' mark'd him all this meale , he has done nothing But mocke , with scuruy faces , all wee said . ALM. A supercilious Rogue ! he lookes as if He were the Patrico — MAD. Or Arch-priest o' Canters , SHV. Hee 's some primate metropolitan Rascall , Our shot-clog makes so much of him . ALM The Law , And he does gouerne him P. IV. What say you , Gentlemen ? FIT. We say , we wonder not , your man o' Law , Should be so gracious wi' you ; but how it comes , This Rogue , this Canter ! P. IV. O , good words . FIT. A fellow That speakes no language — ALM. But what gingling Gipsies , And Pedlers trade in — FIT. And no honest Christian Can vnderstand — P. CA. Why ? by that argument , You all are Canters , you , and you , and you , He speakes to all the Ieerers . All the whole world are Canters , I will proue it In your professions . P. IV. I would faine heare this , But stay , my Princesse comes , prouide the while , I 'll call for 't anone . How fares your Grace ?
ACT. IIII. SCENE . II. LICKFINGER . PECVNIA . STATVTE . BAND . WAXE . to them . I hope the fare was good . PEC. Yes , Lickfinger , Lickfinger is challeng'd by Madrigal of an argument . And we shall thanke you for 't and reward you . MAD. Nay , I 'll not lose my argument , Lickfinger ; Before these Gentlemen , I affirme , The perfect , and true straine of poetry , Is rather to be giuen the quicke Celler , Then the fat Kitchin . LIC. Heretique , I see Thou art for the vaine Oracle of the Botle . The hogshead , Trismegistus , is thy Pegasus . Thence flowes thy Muses spring , from that hard hoofe ▪ Seduced Poet , I doe say to thee , A Boyler , Range , and Dresser were the Fountaines , Of all the knowledge in the vniuerse . And they ' are the Kitchins , where the Master-Cooke — ( Thou dost not know the man , nor canst thou know him , Till thou hast seru'd some yeeres in that deepe schoole , That 's both the Nurse and Mother of the Arts , And hear'st him read , interpret , and demonstrate ! ) A Master-Cooke ! Why , he 's the man o' men , For a Professor ! he designes , he drawes , He paints , he carues , he builds , he fortifies , Makes Citadels of curious fowle and fish , Some he dri-dishes , some motes round with broths . Mounts marrowbones , cuts fifty angled custards , Reares bulwark pies , and for his outerworkes He raiseth Ramparts of immortall crust ; And teacheth all the Tacticks , at one dinner : What Rankes , what Files , to put his dishes in ; The whole Art Military . Then he knowes , The influence of the Starres vpon his meats , And all their seasons , tempers , qualities , And so to fit his relishes , and sauces , He has Nature in a pot , 'boue all the Chymists , Or airy brethren of the Rosie-crosse . He is an Architect , an Inginer , A Souldiour , a Physician , a Philosopher , A generall Mathematician . MAD. It is granted . LIC. And that you may not doubt him , for a Poet — ALM. This fury shewes , if there were nothing else ! And 't is diuine ! I shall for euer hereafter , Admire the wisedome of a Cooke ! BAN. And we , Sir ! P. IV. O , how my Princesse drawes me , Peny-boy is courting his Princesse all the while . with her lookes , And hales me in , as eddies draw in boats , Or strong Charybdis ships , that saile too neere The shelues of Loue ! The tydes of your two eyes ! Wind of your breath , are such as sucke in all , That doe approach you ! PEC. Who hath chang'd my seruant ? P. IV. Your selfe , who drinke my blood vp with your beames , As doth the Sunne , the Sea ! Pecunia shines More in the world then he : and makes it Spring Where e'r she fauours ! ' please her but to show Her melting wrests , or bare her yuorie hands , She catches still ! her smiles they are Loue 's fetters ! Her brests his apples ! her teats Stawberries ! Where Cupid ( were he present now ) would cry Fare well my mothers milke , here 's sweeter Nectar ! Helpe me to praise Pecunia , Gentlemen : She 's your Princesse , lend your wits , They all beginne the encomium of Pecunia . FIT. A Lady , The Graces taught to moue ! ALM. The Houres did nurse ! FIT. Whose lips are the instructions of all Louers ! ALM. Her eyes their lights , and riualls to the Starres ! FIT. A voyce , as if that Harmony still spake ! ALM. And polish'd skinne , whiter then Venus foote ! FIT. Young Hebes necke , or Iunoe's armes ! ALM. A haire , Large as the Mornings , and her breath as sweete , As meddowes after raine , and but new mowne ! FIT. Laeda might yeeld vnto her , for a face ! ALM. Hermione for brests ! FIT. Flora , for cheekes ! ALM. And Helen for a mouth ! P. IV. Kisse , kisse 'hem , Princesse . She kisseth them . FIT. The pearle doth striue in whitenesse , with her necke , ALM. But loseth by it : here the Snow thawes Snow ; One frost resolues another ! FIT. O , she has A front too slippery to be look't vpon ! ALM. And glances that beguile the seers eyes ! P. IV. Kisse , kisse againe , Againe . what saies my man o' warre ? SHV. I say , she 's more , then Fame can promise of her . A Theame , that 's ouercome with her owne matter ! Praise is strucke blind , and deafe , and dumbe with her ! Shee doth astonish Commendation ! P. IV. Well pumpt i'faith old Sailor : She kisseth Captaine Shunfield . kisse him too : Though he be a slugge . What saies my Poet-sucker ! He 's chewing his Muses cudde , I doe see by him . MAD. I haue almost done , I want but e'ne to finish . FIT. That 's the ' ill luck of all his workes still . P. IV. What ? FIT. To beginne many works , but finish none ; P. IV. How does he do his Mistresse work ? FIT. Imperfect . ALM. I cannot thinke he finisheth that . P. IV. Let 's heare ▪ MAD. It is a Madrigall , I affect that kind Of Poem , much . P. IV. And thence you ha' the name . FIT. It is his Rose . He can make nothing else MAD. I made it to the tune the Fidlers play'd , That we all lik'd so well . P. IV. Good , read it , read it . MAD. The Sunne is father of all mettalls , you know , Siluer , and gold . P. IV. I , leaue your Prologues , say !
SONG . MADRIGAL . As bright as is the Sunne her Sire , Or Earth her mother , in her best atyre , Or Mint , the Mid-wife , with her fire , Comes forth her Grace ! The splendour of the wealthiest Mines ! The stamp , and strength of all imperiall lines , Both maiesty and beauty shines , In her sweet face ! Looke how a Torch , of Taper light , Or of that Torches flame , a Beacon bright ; P. IV. That Mint the Midwife does well . FIT. That 's fairely said of Money . P. IV. Good ! MAD. Now there , I want a line to finish , Sir . P. IV. Or of that Beacons fire , Moone-light : MAD. So takes she place ! And then I haue a Saraband — She makes good cheare , she keepes full boards , She holds a Faire of Knights , and Lords , A Mercat of all Offices , And Shops of honour , more or lesse . According to Pecunia's Grace , The Bride hath beauty , blood , and place , The Bridegrome vertue , valour , wit , And wisedome , as he stands for it .
FIT. 'T is good . PIC. He vrgeth her to kisse them all . Call in the Fidlers . Nicke , the boy shall sing it , Sweet Princesse , kisse him , kisse 'hem all , deare Madame , And at the close , vouchsafe to call them Cousins . PEC. Sweet Cousin Madrigall , and Cousin Fitton , My Cousin Shunfield , and my learned Cousin . P. CA. Al-manach , though they call him Almanack . P. IV. Why , here 's the Prodigall prostitutes his Mistresse ! P. IV. And Picklocke , he must be a kinsman too . My man o' Law will teach vs all to winne , And keepe our owne . Old Founder . P. CA. Nothing , I Sir ? I am a wretch , a begger . She the fortunate . Can want no kindred , wee , the poore know none . FIT. Nor none shall know , by my consent . ALM. Nor mine , P. IV. Sing , boy , The boy sings the song . stand here . P. CA. Look , look , how all their eyes Dance i' their heads ( obserue ) scatter'd with lust ! At sight o' their braue Idoll ! how they are tickl'd , With a light ayre ! the bawdy Saruband ! They are a kinde of dancing engines all ! And set , by nature , thus , to runne alone To euery sound ! All things within , withou them , Moue , but their braine , and that stands still ! mere monsters Here , in a chamber , of most subtill feet ! And make their legs in tune , passing the streetes ! These are the gallant spirits o' the age ! The miracles o' the time ! that can cry vp And downe mens wits ! and set what rate on things Their half-brain'd fancies please ! Now pox vpon 'hem . See how solicitously he learnes the Iigge , As if it were a mystery of his faith ! SHV. A dainty ditty ! FIT. O , hee 's a dainty Poet ! When he sets to 't ! P. IV. And a dainty Scholler ! They are all struck with admiration . ALM. No , no great scholler , he writes like a Gentleman . SHV. Pox o' your Scholler . P. CA. Pox o' your distinction ! As if a Scholler were no Gentleman . With these , to write like a Gentleman , will in time Become , all one , as to write like an Asse , These Gentlemen ? these Rascalls ! I am sicke Of indignation at 'hem . P. IV. How doe you lik't , Sir ? FIT. 'T is excellent ! ALM. 'T was excellently sung ! FIT. A dainty Ayre ! P. IV. What saies my Lickfinger ? LIC. I am telling Mistresse Band , and Mistresse Statute , What a braue Gentleman you are , and Waxe , here ! How much 't were better , that my Ladies Grace , Would here take vp Sir , and keepe house with you . P. IV. What say they ? STA. We could consent , Sr , willingly . BAND . I , if we knew her Grace had the least liking . WAX. We must obey her Graces will , and pleasure . P. IV. I thanke you , Gentlewomen , ply 'hem , Lickfinger . Giue mother Mortgage , there — LIC. Her doze of Sacke . I haue it for her , and her distance of Hum. PEC. Indeede therein , I must confesse , deare Cousin , The Gallants are all about Pecunia . I am a most vnfortunate Princesse . ALM. And You still will be so , when your Grace may helpe it . MAD. who 'ld lie in a roome , with a close-stoole , and garlick ? And kennell with his dogges ? that had a Prince Like this young Peny-boy , to soiourne with ? SHV. He 'll let you ha' your liberty — ALM. Goe forth , Whither you please , and to what company — MAD. Scatter your selfe amongst vs — P. IV. Hope of Pernassus ! Thy Iuy shall not wither , nor thy Bayes , Thou shalt be had into her Graces Cellar , And there know Sacke , and Claret , all December , Thy veine is rich , and we must cherish it . Poets and Bees swarme now adaies , but yet There are not those good Tauernes , for the one sort , As there are Flowrie fields to feed the other . Though Bees be pleas'd with dew , aske little Waxe That brings the honey to her Ladyes hiue : The Poet must haue wine . And he shall haue it .
ACT. IIII. SCENE . IIJ. PENI-BOY . SE. PENY-BOY . IV. LICKFINGER . &c. BRoker ? what Broker ? P. IV. Who 's that ? my Vncle ! P. SE. I am abus'd , where is my Knaue ? my Broker ? LIC. Your Broker is laid out vpon a bench , yonder , Sacke hath seaz'd on him , in the shape of sleepe . PIC. Hee hath beene dead to vs almost this houre . P. SE. This houre ? P. CA. Why sigh you Sr ? 'cause he 's at rest ? P. SE. It breeds my vnrest . LIC. Will you take a cup And try if you can sleepe ? P. SE. No , cogging Iacke , Thou and thy cups too , perish . SHV. O , the Sacke ! He strikes the Sacke out of his hand . MAD. The sacke , the sacke ! P. CA. A Madrigall on Sacke ! PIC. Or rather an Elegy , for the Sacke is gone . PEC. Why doe you this , Sir ? spill the wine , and raue ? For Brokers sleeping ? P. SE. What through sleepe , and Sacke , My trust is wrong'd : but I am still awake , Hee would haue Pecunia home . But shee refuseth . And her Traine . To waite vpon your Grace , please you to quit This strange lewd company , they are not for you . PEC. No Guardian , I doe like them very well . P. SE Your Graces pleasure be obseru'd , but you Statute , and Band , and Waxe , will goe with me . SAT. Truly we will not . BAN. We will stay , and wait here Vpon her Grace , and this your Noble Kinsman . P. SE. Noble ? how noble ! who hath made him noble ? P. IV. Why , my most noble money hath , or shall ▪ My Princesse , here . She that had you but kept , And treated kindly , would haue made you noble , And wise , too : nay , perhaps haue done that for you , An Act of Parliament could not , made you honest . The truth is , Vncle , that her Grace dislikes Her entertainment : specially her lodging . PEC. Nay , say her iaile . Neuer vnfortunate Princesse , Was vs'd so by a Iaylor . Aske my women , Band , you can tell , and Statute , how he has vs'd me , Kept me close prisoner , vnder twenty bolts — STA. And forty padlocks — BAN. All malicious ingines A wicked Smith could forge out of his yron : As locks , and keyes , shacles , and manacles , To torture a great Lady . STA. H' has abus'd Your Graces body . PEC. No , he would ha' done , That lay not in his power : he had the vse Of our bodies , Band , and Waxe , and sometimes Statutes : But once he would ha'smother'd me in a chest , And strangl'd me in leather , but that you Came to my rescue , then , and gaue mee ayre . STA. For which he cramb'd vs vp in a close boxe , All three together , where we saw no Sunne In one sixe moneths . WAX. A cruell man he is ! BAN. H' has left my fellow Waxe out , i' the cold , STA. Till she was stiffe , as any frost , and crumbl'd Away to dust , and almost lost her forme . WAX. Much adoe to recouer me . P. SE. Women Ieerers ! Haue you learn'd too , the subtill facultie ? Come , I 'll shew you the way home , if drinke , Or , too full diet haue disguis'd you . BAN. Troth , We haue not any mind , Sir , of returne — STA. To be bound back to backe — BAN. And haue our legs Turn'd in , or writh'd about — WAX. Or else display'd — STA. Be lodg'd with dust and fleas , as we were wont — BAN. And dyeted with dogs dung . P. SE. Why ? you whores , My bawds , my instruments , what should I call you , Man may thinke base inough for you ? P. IV. Heare you , vncle . I must not heare this of my Princesse seruants , And in Apollo , in Pecunia's roome , Goe , get you downe the staires : Home , to your Kennell , As swiftly as you can . Consult your dogges , The Lares of your family ; or beleeue it , The fury of a foote-man , and a drawer Hangs ouer you . SHV. Cudgell , and pot doe threaten A kinde of vengeance . MAD. Barbers are at hand . ALM. Washing and shauing will ensue . They all threaten , FIT. The Pumpe Is not farre off ; If 't were , the sinke is neere : Or a good Iordan . MAD. You haue now no money , SHV. But are a Rascall . P. SE. I am cheated , robb'd Ieer'd by confederacy . FIT. No , you are kick'd And vsed kindly , as you should be . SHV. Spurn'd , And spurne him . Kicke him , out . Hee exclaimes . From all commerce of men , who are a curre . ALM. A stinking dogge , in a dublet , with foule linnen . MAD. A snarling Rascall , hence . SHV. Out . P. SE. Wel , remember , I am coozen'd by my Cousin , and his whore ! Bane o 'these meetings in Apollo ! LIC. Goe , Sir , One of his Dogges . You will be tost like Block , in a blanket else . P. IV. Downe with him , Lickfinger . P. SE. Saucy Iacke away , Pecunia is a whore . P. IV. Play him downe , Fidlers , And drown his noise . Who 's this ! FIT. O Master Pyed-mantle !
ACT. IIIJ. SCENE . IV. PYED-MANTLE . to them . Pyed-mantle brings the Lady Pecunia her pedigree . BY your leaue , Gentlemen . FIT. Her Graces Herald , ALM. No Herald yet , a Heraldet . P. IV. What 's that ? P. CA. A Canter . P. IV. O , thou said'st thou 'dst sproue vs all so ! P. CA. Sir , here is one will proue himselfe so , streight , So shall the rest , in time . PEC. My Pedigree ? I tell you , friend , he must be a good Scholler , Can my discent . I am of Princely race , And as good blood , as any is i' the mines , Runnes through my veines . I am , euery limb , a Princesse ! Dutchesse O' mynes , was my great Grandmother . And by the Fathers side , I come from Sol. My Grand-father was Duke of Or , and match'd In the blood-royall of Ophyr . PYE. Here 's his Coat . PEC. I know it , if I heare the Blazon . PYE. He beares In a field Azure , a Sunne proper , beamy , Twelue of the second . P. CA. How farr 's this from canting ? P. IV. Her Grace doth vnderstand ti . P. CA. She can cant , Sr ▪ PEC. What be these ? Besants ? PYE. Yes , an 't please your Grace . PEC. That is our Coat too , as we come from Or. What line 's this ? PYE. The rich mynes of Potosi . The Spanish mynes i' the West-Indies . PEC. This ? PYE. The mynes o' Hungary , this of Barbary . PEC. But this , this little branch . PEC. The Welsh-myne that . PEC. I ha' Welsh-blood in me too , blaze , Sir , that Coat . PYE. She beares ( an 't please you ) Argent , three leekes vert In Canton Or , and tassel'd of the first . P. CA. Is not this canting ? doe you vnderstand him ? P. IV. Not I , but it sounds well , and the whole thing ▪ Is rarely painted , I will haue such a scrowle , What ere it cost me . PEC. Well , at better leasure , We 'll take a view of it , and so reward you . P. IV. Kisse him , sweet Princesse , She kisseth . and stile him a Cousin . PEC. I will , if you will haue it . Cousin Pyed-mantle . P. IV. I loue all men of vertue , from my Princesse , Vnto my begger , here , old Canter , on , On to thy proofe , whom proue you the next Canter ? P. CA. The Doctor here , I will proceed with the learned . When he discourseth of dissection , Or any point of Anatomy : that hee tells you , Of Vena caua , and of vena porta , The Meseraicks , and the Mesenterium . What does hee else but cant ? Or if he runne To his Iudiciall Astrologie , And trowle the Trine , the Quartile and the Sextile , Platicke aspect , and Partile , with his Hyleg Or Alchochoden , Cuspes , and Horroscope . Does not he cant ? Who here does vnderstand him ? ALM. This is no Canter , tho ! P. CA. Or when my Master-Master Talkes of his Tacticks , and his Rankes , and Files ; His Bringers vp , his Leaders on , and cries , Faces about to the right hand , the left , Now , as you were : then tells you of Redoubts , Of Cats , and Cortines . Doth not he cant ? P. IV. Yes , ' faith . P. CA. My Eg-chind Laureat , here , when he comes forth With Dimeters , and Trimeters , Tetrameters , Pentameters , Hexameters , Catalecticks , His Hyper , and his Brachy-Catalecticks , His Pyrrhichs , Epitrites , and Choriambicks . What is all this , but canting ? MAD. A rare fellow ! SHV. Some begging Scholler ! FIT. A decay'd Doctor at least ! P. IV. Nay , I doe cherish vertue , though in rags . P. CA. And you , Mas Courtier . P. IV. Now he treats of you , Stand forth to him , faire . P. CA. With all your fly-blowne proiects , And lookes out of the politicks , your shut-faces , And reseru'd Questions , and Answers that you game with , As Is' t a Cleare businesse ? will it mannage well ? My name must not be vs'd else . Here , 't will dash . Your businesse has receiu'd a taint , giue off , I may not prostitute my selfe . Tut , tut , That little dust I can blow off , at pleasure . Here 's no such mountaine , yet , i' the whole worke ! But a light purse may leuell . I will tyde This affayre for you ; giue it freight , and passage . And such mynt-phrase , as 't is the worst of canting , By how much it affects the sense , it has not . FIT. This is some other then he seemes ! P. IV. How like you him ? FIT. This cannot be a Canter ! P. IV. But he is , Sir , And shall be still , and so shall you be too : We 'll all be Canters . Now , I thinke of it , A noble Whimsie 's come into my braine ! I 'll build a Colledge , Canters-Colledge , begun to be erected . I , and my Pecunia , And call it Canters Colledge , sounds it well ? ALM. Excellent ! P. IV. And here stands my Father Rector , And you Professors , you shall all professe Something , and liue there , with her Grace and me , Your Founders : I 'll endow 't with lands , and meanes , And Lickfinger shall be my Master-Cooke . What ? is he gone ? P. CA. And a Professor . P. IV. Yes . P. CA. And read Apicius de reculinaria To your braue Doxie , and you ! P. IV. You , Cousin Fitton , Shall ( as a Courtier ) read the politicks ; Doctor Al-manack , hee shall read Astrology , Shunfield shall read the Military Arts. P. CA. That 's Madrigall . As caruing , and assaulting the cold custard . P. IV. And Horace here , the Art of Poetry . His Lyricks , and his Madrigalls , fine Songs , Which we will haue at dinner , steept in claret , And against supper , sowc't in sacke . MAD. In troth A diuine Whimsey ! SHV. And a worthy worke , Fit for a Chronicle ! P. IV. Is' t not ? SHV. To all ages . P. IV. And Pyed-mantle , shall giue vs all our Armes , But Picklocke , what wouldst thou be ? Thou canst cant too . PIC. In all the languages in Westminster-Hall , Pleas , Bench , or Chancery . Fee-Farme , Fee-Tayle , Tennant in dower , At will , For Terme of life , By Copy of Court Roll , Knights seruice , Homage , Fealty , Escuage , Soccage , or Frank almoigne , Grand Sergeanty , or Burgage . P. IV. Thou appear'st , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a Canter . Thou shalt read All Littletons tenures to me , and indeed All my Conueyances . PIC. And make 'hem too , Sir ? Keepe all your Courts , be Steward o' your lands , Let all your Leases , keepe your Euidences , But first , I must procure , and passe your mort-maine You must haue licence from aboue , Sir . P. IV. Feare not , Pecunia's friends shall doe it . P. CA. But I shall stop it . Your worships louing , and obedient father , Your painefull Steward , and lost Officer ! Here his father discouers himselfe . Who haue done this , to try how you would vse Pecunia , when you had her : which since I see , I will take home the Lady , to my charge , And these her seruants , and leaue you my Cloak , To trauell in to Beggers Bush ! A Seate , Is built already , furnish'd too , worth twentie Of your imagin'd structures , Canters Colledge . FIT. 'T is his Father ! MAD. Hee 's aliue , me thinks . ALM. I knew he was no Rogue ! P. CA. Thou , Prodigall , Was I so carefull for thee , to procure , And plot wi' my learn'd Counsell , Master Picklocke , This noble match for thee , and dost thou prostitute , Scatter thy Mistresse fauours , throw away Her bounties , as they were red-burning coales , Too hot for thee to handle , on such rascalls ? Who are the scumme , and excrements of men ? If thou had'st fought out good , and vertuous persons Of these professions : I 'had lou'd thee , and them , For these shall neuer haue that plea 'gainst me , Or colour of aduantage , that I hate Their callings , but their manners , and their vices . A worthy Courtier , is the ornament Of a Kings Palace , his great Masters honour . This is a moth , a rascall , a Court-rat , That gnawes the common-wealth with broking suits , And eating grieuances ! So , a true Souldier , He is his Countryes strength , his Soueraignes safety , And to secure his peace , he makes himselfe . The heyre of danger , nay the subiect of it , And runnes those vertuous hazards , that this Scarre-crow Cannot endure to heare of . SHV. You are pleasant , Sir . P. CA. With you I dare be ! Here is Pyed-mantle , 'Cause he 's an Asse , doe not I loue a Herald ? Who is the pure preseruer of descents , The keeper faire of all Nobility , Without which all would runne into confusion ? Were he a learned Herald , I would tell him He can giue Armes , and markes , he cannot honour , No more then money can make Noble : It may Giue place , and ranke , but it can giue no Vertue . And he would thanke me , for this truth . This dog-Leach , You stile him Doctor , 'cause he can compile An Almanack ; perhaps erect a Scheme For my great Madams monkey : when 't has ta'ne A glister , and bewrai'd the Ephemerides . Doe I despise a learn'd Physician ? In calling him a Quack-Saluer ? or blast The euer-liuing ghirlond , alwaies greene Of a good Poet ? when I say his wreath Is piec'd and patch'd of dirty witherd flowers ? Away , I am impatient of these vlcers , ( That I not call you worse ) There is no sore , Or Plague but you to infect the times . I abhorre Your very scent . Come , Lady , since my Prodigall Knew not to entertaine you to your worth , I 'll see if I haue learn'd , how to receiue you , Hee points him to his patch'd cloake throwne off . With more respect to you , and your faire traine here . Farewell my Begger in veluet , for to day , To morrow you may put on that graue Robe , And enter your great worke of Canters Colledge , Your worke and worthy of a Chronicle ,
The fourth Intermeane after the fourth Act. TATLE.

Why ? This was the worst of all ! the Catastrophe !

CEN.

The matter began to be good , but now : and he has spoyl'd it all , with his Begger there !

MIRT.

A beggerly Iacke it is , I warrant him , and a kin to the Poet.

TAT.

Like enough , for hee had the chiefest part in his play , if you marke it .

EXP.

Absurdity on him , for a huge ouergrowne Play-maker ! why should he make him liue againe , when they , and we all thought him dead ? If he had left him to his ragges , there had beene an end of him .

TAT.

I , but set a beggar on horse-backe , hee 'll neuer linne till hee be a gallop .

CEN.

The young heyre grew a fine Gentleman , in this last Act !

EXP.

So he did , Gossip : and kept the best company .

CEN.

And feasted 'hem , and his Mistresse !

TAT.

And shew'd her to 'hem all ! was not iealous !

MIRTH.

But very communicatiue , and liberall , and beganne to be magnificent , if the churle his father would haue let him alone .

CEN.

It was spitefully done o' the Poet , to make the Chuffe take him off in his heighth , when he was going to doe all his braue deedes !

EXP.

To found an Academy !

TAT.

Erect a Colledge !

EXP.

Plant his Professors , and water his Lectures .

MIRTH.

With wine , gossips , as he meant to doe , and then to defraud his purposes ?

EXP.

Kill the hopes of so many towardly young spirits ?

TAT.

As the Doctors ?

CEN.

And the Courtiers ! I protest , I was in loue with Master Fitton . He did weare all he had , from the hat-band , to the sho●e-tye , so politically , and would stoop , and leere ?

MIRTH.

And lie so , in waite for a piece of wit , like a Mouse-trap ?

EXP.

Indeed Gossip , so would the little Doctor , all his behauiour was meere glister ! O' my conscience , hee would make any parties physicke i' the world worke , with his discourse .

MIR.

I wonder they would suffer it , a foolish old fornicating Father , to rauish away his sonnes Mistresse .

CEN.

And all her women , at once , as hee did !

TAT.

I would ha' flyen in his gypsies face i' faith .

MIRTH.

It was a plaine piece of politicall incest , and worthy to be brought afore the high Commission of wit . Suppose we were to censure him , you are the youngest voyce , Gossip Tatle , beginne .

TATLE.

Mary , I would ha' the old conicatcher coozen'd of all he has , i' the young heyres defence , by his learn'd Counsell , Mr Picklocke !

CENSVRE .

I would rather the Courtier had found out some tricke to begge him , from his estate !

EXP.

Or the Captaine had courage enough to beat him .

CEN.

Or the fine Madrigall-man , in rime , to haue runne him out o' the Countrey , like an Irish rat .

TAT.

No , I would haue Master Pyed-mantle , her Graces Herald , to pluck downe his hatchments , reuerse his coat-armour , and nullifie him for no Gentleman .

EXP.

Nay , then let Master Doctor dissect him , haue him open'd , and his tripes translated to Lickfinger , to make a probation dish of .

CEN. TAT.

Agreed ! Agreed !

MIRTH.

Faith I would haue him flat disinherited , by a decree of Court , bound to make restitution of the Lady Pecunia , and the vse of her body to his sonne .

EXP.

And her traine , to the Gentlemen .

CEN.

And both the Poet , and himselfe , to aske them all forgiuenesse !

TAT.

And vs too .

CEN.

In two large sheetes of paper —

EXP.

Or to stand in a skin of parchment , ( which the Court please )

CEN.

And those fill'd with newes !

MIRTH.

And dedicated to the sustaining of the Staple !

EXP.

Which their Poet hath let fall , most abruptly ?

MIRTH.

Banckruptly , indeede !

CEN.

You say wittily , Gossip , and therefore let a protest goe out against him .

MIR.

A mourniuall of protests ; or a gleeke at least !

EXP.

In all our names ▪

CEN.

For a decay'd wit —

EXP.

Broken —

TAT.

Non-soluent —

CENSVRE .

And , for euer , forfet —

MIRTH.

To scorne , of Mirth ?

CEN.

Censure !

EXP.

Expectation !

TAT.

Subsign'd . Tatle , Stay , they come againe .

ACT. V. SCENE . I. PENY-BOY . IV. to him THO. BARBER . after , PICKLOCKE . Hee comes out in the patchd cloak his father left him . NAy , they are fit , as they had been made for me , And I am now a thing , worth looking at ! The same , I said I would be in the morning . No Rogue , at a Comitia of the Canters , Did euer there become his Parents Robes Better , then I do these : great foole ! and begger ! Why doe not all that are of those societies , Come forth , and gratulate mee one of theirs ? Me thinkes , I should be , on euery side , saluted , Dauphin of beggers ! Prince of Prodigalls ! That haue so fall'n vnder the eares , and eyes , And tongues of all , the fable o' the time , Matter of scorne , and marke of reprehension ! I now begin to see my vanity , Shine in this Glasse , reflected by the foile ! Where is my Fashioner ? my Feather-man ? My Linnener ? Perfumer ? Barber ? all ? That tayle of Riot , follow'd me this morning ? Not one ! but a darke solitude about mee , Worthy my cloake , and patches ; as I had The epidemicall disease vpon mee : And I 'll sit downe with it . THO. My Master ! Maker ! How doe you ? Why doe you sit thus o' the ground , Sir ? Heare you the newes ? P. IV. No , nor I care to heare none . Would I could here sit still , and slip away The other one and twenty , to haue this Forgotten , and the day rac'd out , expung'd , In euery Ephemerides , or Almanack . Or if it must be in , that Time and Nature Haue decree'd ; still , let it be a day Of tickling Prodigalls , about the gills ; Deluding gaping heires , loosing their loues , And their discretions ; falling from the fauours Of their best friends , and parents ; their owne hopes ; And entring the society of Canters . THO. A dolefull day it is , and dismall times Are come vpon vs : I am cleare vndone . P. IV. How , Thom ? THO. Why ? broke ! broke ! wretchedly broke ! P. IV. Ha! THO. Our Staple is all to pieces , quite dissolu'd ! P. IV. Ha! THO. Shiuer'd , as in an earth-quake ! heard you not The cracke and ruines ? we are all blowne vp ! Soone as they heard th' Infanta was got from them , Whom they had so deuoured i' their hopes , To be their Patronesse , and soiourne with 'hem ; Our Emissaries , Register , Examiner , Flew into vapor : our graue Gouernour Into a subt'let ayre ; and is return'd ( As we doe heare ) grand - Captaine of the Ieerers . I , and my fellow melted into butter , And spoyl'd our Inke , and so the Office vanish'd . The last hum that it made , was , that your Father , And Picklocke are fall'n out , the man o' Law . Hee starts vp at this . P. IV. How ? this awakes me from my lethargy . THO. And a great suite , is like to be betweene 'hem , Picklocke denies the Feofement , and the Trust , ( Your Father saies ) he made of the whole estate , Vnto him , as respecting his mortalitie , When he first laid this late deuice , to try you . P. IV. Has Picklock then a trust ? THO. I cannot tell , Here comes the worshipfull — PIC. What ? my veluet - heyre , Picklocke enters . Turn'd begger in minde , as robes ? P. IV. You see what case , Your , and my Fathers plots haue brought me to . PIC. Your Fathers , you may say , indeed , not mine . Hee 's a hard hearted Gentleman ! I am sorie To see his rigid resolution ! That any man should so put off affection , And humane nature , to destroy his owne ! And triumph in a victory so cruell ! He 's fall'n out with mee , for being yours , And calls me Knaue , and Traytors to his Trust , Saies he will haue me throwne ouer the Barre — P. IV. Ha' you deseru'd it ? PIC. O , good heauen knowes My conscience , and the silly latitude of it ! A narrow minded man ! my thoughts doe dwell All in a Lane , or line indeed ; No turning , Nor scarce obliquitie in them . I still looke Right forward to th' intent , and scope of that Which he would go from now . P. IV. Had you a Trust , then ? PIC. Sir , I had somewhat , will keepe you still Lord Of all the estate , ( if I be honest ) as I hope I shall . My tender scrupulous brest Will not permit me see the heyre defrauded , And like an Alyen , thrust out of the blood , The Lawes forbid that I should giue consent , To such a ciuill slaughter of a Sonne . P. IV. Where is the deed ? hast thou it with thee ? PIC. No , It is a thing of greater consequence , Then to be borne about in a blacke boxe , Like a Low-countrey vorloffe , or Welsh-briefe . It is at Lickfingers , vnder locke and key . P. IV. O , fetch it hither . PIC. I haue bid him bring it , That you might see it . P. IV. Knowes he what brings ? PIC. No more then a Gardiners Asse , what roots he carries , P. IV. I was a sending my Father , like an Asse , A penitent Epistle , but I am glad I did not , now . PIC. Hang him , an austere grape , That has no iuice , but what is veriuice in him . P. IV. Peny-boy runnes out to fetch his letter . I 'll shew you my letter ! PIC. Shew me a defiance ! If I can now commit Father , and Sonne , And make my profits out of both . Commence A suite with the oldman , for his whole state , And goe to Law with the Sonnes credit , vndoe Both , both with their owne money , it were a piece Worthy my night-cap , and the Gowne I weare , A Picklockes name in Law . Where are you Sir ? What doe you doe so long ? P. IV. I cannot find Where I haue laid it , but I haue laid it safe . PIC No matter , Sir , trust you vnto my Trust , 'T is that that shall secure you , an absolute deed ! And I confesse , it was in Trust , for you , Lest any thing might haue hapned mortall to him : But there must be a gratitude thought on , And aid , Sir , for the charges of the suite , Which will be great , 'gainst such a mighty man , As is our Father , and a man possest Of so much Land , Pecunia and her friends . I am not able to wage Law with him , Yet must maintaine the thing , as mine owne right , Still for your good , and therefore must be bold To vse your credit for monies . P. IV. What thou wilt , So wee be safe , and the Trust beare it . PIC. Feare not , 'T is hee must pay arrerages in the end . Wee 'l milke him , and Pecunia , draw their creame downe , Before he get the deed into his hands . My name is Picklocke , but hee 'll finde me a Padlocke .
ACT. V. SCENE . II. PENY-BOY . CAN. PENY-BOY . IV. PICKLOCK . THO. BARBAR . HOw now ? conferring wi 'your learned Counsell , Vpo' the Cheat ? Are you o' the plot to coozen mee ? P. IV. What plot ? P. SE. Your Counsell knowes there , Mr Picklock , Will you restore the Trust yet ? PIC. Sir , take patience . And memory vnto you , and bethinke you , What Trust ? where dost appeare ? I haue your Deed , Doth your Deed specifie any Trust ? Is' t not A perfect Act ? and absolute in Law ? Seal'd and deliuer'd before witnesses ? The day and date , emergent . P. CA. But what conference ? What othes , and vowes preceded ? PIC. I will tell you , Sir , Since I am vrg'd of those , as I remember , You told me you had got a growen estate , By griping meanes , sinisterly . ( P. CA. How ! ) PIC. And were Eu'n weary of it ; if the parties liued , From whom you had wrested it — ( P. CA. Ha! ) PIC. You could be glad , To part with all , for satisfaction : But since they had yeelded to humanity , And that iust heauen had sent you , for a punishment ( You did acknowledge it ) this riotous heyre , That would bring all to beggery in the end , And daily sow'd consumption , where he went — P. CA. You 'old coozen both , then ? your Confederate , too ? PIC. After a long , mature deliberation , You could not thinke , where , better , how to place it — P. CA. Then on you , Rascall ? PIC. What you please i' your passion , But with your reason , you will come about And thinke a faithfull , and a frugall friend To be preferr'd . P. CA. Before a Sonne ? PIC. A Prodigall , A tubbe without a bottome , as you term'd him ; For which , I might returne you a vow , or two , And seale it with an oath of thankfulnesse , I not repent it , neither haue I cause , Yet — P. CA. Fore-head of steele , and mouth of brasse ! hath impudence Polish'd so grosse a lie , and dar'st thou vent it ? Engine , compos'd of all mixt mettalls ! hence , I will not change a syllab , with thee , more , Till I may meet thee , at a Barre in Court , Before thy Iudges . PIC. Thither it must come , His Son entreats him . Before I part with it , to you , or you , Sir . P. CA. I will not heare thee . P. IV. Sir , your eare to mee , though . Not that I see through his perplexed plots , And hidden ends , nor that my parts depend Vpon the vnwinding this so knotted skeane , Doe I beseech your patience . Vnto mee He hath confest the trust . PIC. How ? I confesse it ? P. IV. I thou , false man . P. SE. Stand vp to him , & confront him . PIC. Where ? when ? to whom ? P. IV. To me , euen now , and here , Canst thou deny it ? PIC. Can I eate , or drinke ? Sleepe , wake , or dreame ? arise , sit , goe , or stand ? Doe any thing that 's naturall ? P. IV. Yes , lye : It seemes thou canst , and periure : that is naturall ! PIC. O me ! what times are these ! of frontlesse carriage ! An Egge o' the same nest ! the Fathers Bird ! It runs in a blood , I see ! P. IV. I 'll stop your mouth . PIC. With what ? P. IV. With truth . PIC. With noise , I must haue witnes . Where is your witnes ? you can produce witnes ? P. IV. As if my testimony were not twenty , Balanc'd with thine ? PIC. So say all Prodigalls , Sicke of selfe-loue , but that 's not Law , young Scatter-good . I liue by Law . P. IV. Why ? if thou hast a conscience , That is a thoussnd witnesses . PIC. No , Court , Grants out a Writ of Summons , for the Conscience , That I know , nor Sub-paena , nor Attachment . I must haue witnesse , and of your producing , Ere this can come to hearing , and it must Be heard on oath , and witnesse . P. IV. Come forth , Hee produceth Thom. Thom , Speake what thou heard'st , the truth , and the whole truth , And nothing but the truth . What said this varlet ? PIC. A rat behind the hangings ! THO. Sir , he said It was a Trust ! an Act , the which your Father Had will to alter : but his tender brest Would not permit to see the heyre defrauded ; And like an alyen , thrust out of the blood . The Lawes forbid that he should giue consent To such a ciuill slaughter of a Sonne — P. IV. And talk'd of a gratuitie to be giuen , And ayd vnto the charges of the suite ; Which he was to maintaine , in his owne name , But for my vse , he said . P. CA. It is enough . THO. And he would milke Pecunia , and draw downe Her creame , before you got the Trust , againe . P. CA. Your eares are in my pocket , Knaue , goe shake 'hem , The little while you haue them . PIC. You doe trust To your great purse . P. CA. I ha' you in a purse-net , Good Master Picklocke , wi 'your worming braine , And wrigling ingine-head of maintenance , Which I shall see you hole with , very shortly . A fine round head , when those two lugs are off , To trundle through a Pillory . You are sure You heard him speake this ? P. IV. I , and more . THO. Much more ! PIC. I 'll proue yours maintenance , and combination , And sue you all . P. CA. Doe , doe , my gowned Vulture , Crop in Reuersion : I shall see you coyted Ouer the Barre , as Barge-men doe their billets . PIC. This 't is , when men repent of their good deeds , And would ha 'hem in againe — They are almost mad ! But I forgiue their Lucida Interualla . O , Lickfinger ? Pick-lock spies Lickfinger , and askes him aside for the writing . come hither . Where 's my writing ?
ACT. V. SCENE . III. LICKFINGER . to them . I sent it you , together with your keyes , PIC. How ? LIC. By the Porter , that came for it , from you , And by the token , you had giu'n me the keyes , And bad me bring it . PIC. And why did you not ? LIC. Why did you send a counter-mand ? PIC. Who , I ? LIC. You , or some other you , you put in trust . PIC. In trust ? LIC. Your Trust 's another selfe , you know , And without Trust , and your Trust , how should he Take notice of your keyes , or of my charge . PIC. Know you the man ? LIC. I know he was a Porter , And a seal'd Porter for he bore the badge On brest , I am sure . PIC. I am lost ! a plot ! I sent it ! LIC. Why ! and I sent it by the man you sent Whom else , I had not trusted . PIC. Plague o' your trust . Picklocke goes out . I am truss'd vp among you . P. IV. Or you may be . PIC. In mine owne halter , I haue made the Noose . Young Peny-boy discouers it , to his Father to be his plot of sending for it by the Porter , and that hee is in possession of the Deed. P. IV. What was it , Lickfinger ? LIC. A writing , Sir , He sent for 't by a token , I was bringing it : But that he sent a Porter , and hee seem'd A man of decent carriage . P. CA. 'T was good fortune ! To cheat the Cheater , was no cheat , but iustice , Put off your ragges , and be your selfe againe , This Act of piety , and good affection , Hath partly reconcil'd me to you . P. IV. Sir . P.C. No vowes , no promises : too much protestation Makes that suspected oft , we would perswade . LIC. Heare you the Newes ? Elder Peny-boy startles at the newes . P. IV. The Office is downe , how should we ? LIC. But of your vncle ? P. IV. No. LIC. He 's runne mad , Sir . P. CA. How , Lickfinger ? LIC. Stark staring mad , your brother , H' has almost kill'd his maid . P. CA. Now , heauen forbid . LIC. But that she 's Cat-liu'd , and Squirrill-limb'd , With throwing bed-staues at her : h' has set wide His outer doores , and now keepes open house , For all the passers by to see his iustice : First , he has apprehended his two dogges , As being o' the plot to coozen him : And there hee sits like an old worme of the peace , Wrap'd vp in furres at a square table , screwing , Examining , and committing the poore curres , To two old cases of close stooles , as prisons ; The one of which , he calls his Lollard's tower , Th' other his Blocke-house , 'cause his two dogs names Are Blocke , and Lollard . P. IV. This would be braue matter Vnto the Ieerers . P. CA. I , If so the subiect Were not so wretched . LIC. Sure , I met them all , I thinke , vpon that quest. P. CA. 'Faith , like enough : The vicious still are swift to shew their natures . I 'll thither too , but with another ayme , If all succeed well , and my simples take .
ACT. V. SCENE . IIIJ. He is seene sitting at his Table with papers before him . PENI-BOY . SEN. PORTER . WHere are the prisoners ? POR. They are forth-comming , S ● , Or comming forth at least . P. SE. The Rogue is drunke , Since I committed them to his charge . Come hither , Hee smells him . Neere me , yet neerer ; breath vpon me . Wine ! Wine , o' my worship ! sacke ! Canary sacke ! Could not your Badge ha' bin drunke with fulsome Ale ? Or Beere ? the Porters element ? but sacke ! POR. I am not drunke , we had , Sir , but one pynt , An honest carrier , and my selfe . P. SE. Who paid for 't ? POR. Sir , I did giue it him . P. SE. What ? and spend sixpence ! A Frocke spend sixpence ! sixpence ! POR. Once in a yeere , Sir , P. SE. In seuen yeers , varlet ! Know'st thou what thou hast done ? What a consumption thou hast made of a State ? It might please heauen , ( a lusty Knaue and young ) To let thee liue some seuenty yeeres longer . Till thou art fourescore , and ten ; perhaps , a hundred . Say seuenty yeeres ; how many times seuen in seuenty ? Why , seuen times ten , is ten times seuen , marke me , I will demonstrate to thee on my fingers , Six-pence in seuen yeere ( vse vpon vse ) Growes in that first seuen yeere , to be a twelue-pence . That , in the next , two-shillings ; the third foure-shillings ; The fourth seuen yeere , eight-shillings ; the fifth , sixteen : The sixth , two and thirty ; the seuenth , three-pound foure , The eighth , sixe pound , and eyght ; the ninth , twelue pound sixteen ; And the tenth seuen , fiue and twenty pound , Twelue Shillings . This thou art fall'n from , by thy riot ! Should'st thou liue seuenty yeeres , by spending six-pence , Once i' the seuen : but in a day to wast it ! There is a Summe that number cannot reach ! Out o' my house , thou pest o' prodigality ! Seed o'consumption ! hence , a wicked keeper Is oft worse then the prisoners . There 's thy penny , Foure tokens for thee . Out , away . My dogges , May yet be innocent , and honest . If not , I haue an entrapping question , or two more , To put vnto 'hem , a crosse Intergatory , And I shall catch 'hem ; Lollard ? Hee calls forth Lollard , and examines him . Peace , What whispring was that you had with Mortgage , When you last lick'd her feet ? The truth now . Ha ? Did you smell shee was going ? Put downe that . And not , Not to returne ? You are silent . good . And , when Leap'd you on Statute ? As she went forth ? Consent . There was Consent , as shee was going forth . 'T would haue beene fitter at her comming home , He commits him againe . But you knew that she would not ? To your Tower , You are cunning , are you ? I will meet your craft . Blocke , Calls forth Blocke , and examines him . shew your face , leaue your caresses , tell me , And tell me truly , what affronts do you know Were done Pecunia ? that she left my house ? None , say you so ? not that you know ? or will know ? I feare me , I shall find you an obstinate Curre . Why , did your fellow Lollard cry this morning ? 'Cause Broker kickt him ? why did Broker kicke him ? Because he pist against my Ladies Gowne ? Why , that was no affront ? no ? no distast ? You knew o' none . Yo' are a dissembling Tyke , Commits him . To your hole , againe , your Blocke-house . Lollard , arise , Where did you lift your legge vp , last ? 'gainst what ? Lollard is call'd again . Are you struck Dummerer now ? and whine for mercy ? Whose Kirtle was 't , you gnaw'd too ? Mistresse Bands ? And Waxe's stockings ? who did ? Blocke bescumber Statutes white suite ? wi' the parchment lace there ? And Brokers Sattin dublet ? all will out . They had offence , offence enough to quit mee . Blocke is sūmon'd the second time . Appeare Blocke , fough , 't is manifest . He shewes it , Should he for-sweare 't , make all the Affadauits , Against it , that he could afore the Bench , And twenty Iuries ; hee would be conuinc'd . Hee is remanded . He beares an ayre about him , doth confesse it ! To prison againe , close prison . Not you Lollard , Lollard has the liberty of the house . You may enioy the liberty o' the house , And yet there is a quirke come in my head , For which I must commit you too , and close , Doe not repine , it will be better for you . Enter the Ieerers .
ACT. V. SCENE . II. CYMBAL . FITTON . SHVNFIELD . ALMANACH . MADRIGAL . PENY-BOY . SEN. LICKFINGER . THis is enough to make the dogs mad too , Let 's in vpon him . P. SE. How now ? what 's the matter ? Come you to force the prisoners ? make a rescue ? FIT. We come to baile your dogs . P. SE. They are not baileable , They stand committed without baile , or mainprise , Your baile cannot be taken . SHV. Then the truth is , We come to vex you . ALM. Ieere you . MAD. Bate you rather . CYM. A bated vserer will be good flesh . FIT. And tender , we are told . P. SE. Who is the Butcher , Amongst you , that is come to cut my throat ? SHV. You would dye a calues death faine : but 't is an Oxes , Is meant you . FIT. To be fairely knock'd o' the head . SHV. With a good Ieere or two . P. SE. And from your iaw-bone , Don Assinigo ? CYM. Shunfield , a Ieere , you haue it . SHV. I doe confesse a washing blow ? but Snarle , You that might play the third dogge , for your teeth , You ha' no money now ? FIT. No , nor no Mortgage . ALM. Nor Band. MAD. Nor Statute . CYM. No , nor blushet Wax . P. SE. Nor you no Office , as I take it . SHV. Cymbal , A mighty Ieere . FIT. Pox o 'these true ieasts , I say . MAD. He will turne the better ieerer . ALM. Let 's vpon him , And if we cannot ieere him downe in wit , MAD. Let 's do 't in noyse . SHV. Content . MAD. Charge , man o' warre . ALM. Lay him , abord . SHV. We 'll gi' him a broad side , first . FIT. Wher 's your venison , now ? CYM. Your red-Deer-pyes ? SHV. Wi' your bak'd Turkyes ? ALM. and your Partridges ? MAD. Your Phessants , & fat Swans ? P. SE. Like you , turn'd Geese . MAD. But such as will not keepe your Capitol ? SHV. You were wont to ha' your Breams — ALM. And Trouts sent in ? CYM. Fat Carps , and Salmons ? FIT. I , and now , and then , An Embleme , o' your selfe , an o're-growne Pyke ? P. SE. You are a Iack , Sir . FIT. You ha' made a shift To swallow twenty such poore Iacks ere now . ALM. If he should come to feed vpon poore - Iohn ? MAD. Or turne pure Iack-a-Lent after all this ? FIT. Tut , he 'll liue like a Gras-hopper — MAD. On dew . SHV. Or like a Beare , with licking his owne clawes . CYM. I , If his dogs were away . ALM. He 'll eat them , first , While they are fat . FIT , Faith , and when they are gone , Here 's nothing to be seene beyond . CYM. Except His kindred , Spiders , natiues o' the soyle . ALM. Dust , he will ha' enough here , to breed fleas . MAD. But , by that time , he 'll ha' no blood to reare 'hem . SHV. He will be as thin as a lanterne , we shall see thorow him , ALM. And his gut colon , tell his Intestina — P. SE. Rogues , Rascalls ( His dogges barke . baw waw ) FIT. He calls his dogs to his ayd . ALM. O! they but rise at mention of his tripes . CYM. Let them alone , they doe it not for him . MAD. They barke , se defendendo . SHV. Or for custome , As commonly currres doe , one for another . LIC. Arme , arme you , Gentlemen Ieerers , th' old Canter Is comming in vpon you , with his forces , The Gentleman , that was the Canter . SHV. Hence . FIT. Away . CYM. What is he ? ALM. stay not to ask questions . FIT. Hee 's a flame . SHV. A fornace . ALM. A consumption , They all run away . Kills where hee goes . LIC. See! the whole Couy is scatter'd , ‛ Ware , ' ware the Hawkes . I loue to see him flye .
ACT. V. SCENE . VI. PENY-BOY . CA. PENY-BOY . SE. PENI-BOY . IV. PECVNIA . TRAINE . YOu see by this amazement , and distraction , What your companions were , a poore , affrighted , And guilty race of men , that dare to stand No breath of truth : but conscious to themselues Of their no-wit , or honesty , ranne routed At euery Pannicke terror themselues bred . Where else , as confident as sounding brasse , Their tinckling Captaine , Cymbal , and the rest , Dare put on any visor , to deride The wretched : or with buffon licence , ieast At whatsoe'r is serious , if not sacred . P. SE. Peny-boy Se. acknowledgeth his elder brother . Who 's this ? my brother ! and restor'd to life ! P. CA Yes , and sent hither to restore your wits : If your short madnesse , be not more then anger , Conceiued for your losse ! which I returne you . See here , your Mortgage , Statute , Band , and Waxe , Without your Broker , come to abide with you : And vindicate the Prodigall , from stealing Away the Lady . Nay , Pecunia herselfe , Is come to free him fairely , and discharge All ties , but those of Loue , vnto her person , To vse her like a friend , not like a slaue , Or like an Idoll . Superstition Doth violate the Deity it worships : No lesse then scorne doth . And beleeue it , brother The vse of things is all , and not the Store ; Surfet , and fulnesse , haue kill'd more then famine . The Sparrow , with his little plumage , flyes , While the proud Peacocke , ouer-charg'd with pennes , Is faine to sweepe the ground , with his growne traine , And load of feathers . P. SE. Wise , and honour'd brother ! None but a Brother , and sent from the dead , As you are to me , could haue altered me : I thanke my Destiny , that is so gracious . Are there no paines , no Penalties decreed From whence you come , to vs that smother money , In chests , and strangle her in bagges . P. CA. O , mighty , Intolerable fines , and mulcts impo'sd ! ( Of which I come to warne you ) forfeitures Of whole estates , if they be knowne , and taken ! P. SE. I thanke you Brother for the light you haue giuen mee , I will preuent 'hem all . First free my dogges , Lest what I ha' done to them ( and against Law ) Be a Premuniri , for by Magna Charta They could not be committed , as close prisoners , My learned Counsell tells me here , my Cooke . And yet he shew'd me , the way , first . LIC. Who did ? I ? I trench the liberty o' the subiects ? P. CA. Peace , Picklocke , your Ghest , that Stentor , hath infected you , Whom I haue safe enough in a wooden collar . P. SE. Next , I restore these seruants to their Ladie , With freedome , heart of cheare , and countenance ; It is their yeere , and day of Iubilee . TRA. We thanke you , Sir . Her Traine thanks him . P. SE. And lastly , to my Nephew , I giue my house , goods , lands , all but my vices , And those I goe to cleanse ; kissing this Lady Whom I doe giue him too , and ioyne their hands . P. CA. If the Spectators will ioyne theirs , wee thanke 'hem . P. IV. And wish they may , as I , enioy Pecunia . PEC. And so Pecunia her selfe doth wish , That shee may still be ayde vnto their vses , Not slaue vnto their pleasures , or a Tyrant Ouer their faire desires ; but teach them all The golden meane : the Prodigall how to liue , The sordid , and the couetous , how to dye , That with sound mind ; this safe frugality .
THE END .
The Epilogue . THus haue you seene the Makers double scope , To profit , and delight ; wherein our hope Is , though the clout we doe not alwaies hit , It will not be imputed to his wit : A Tree so tri'd , and bent , as 't will not start . Nor doth he often cracke a string of Art , Though there may other accidents as strange Happen , the weather of your lookes may change , Or some high wind of mis-conceit arise , To cause an alteration in our Skyes ; If so , we' are sorry that haue so mis-spent Our Time and Tackle , yet he 'is confident , And vow 's the next faire day , hee 'll haue vs shoot The same match o're for him , if you 'll come to 't .

THE DIUELL IS AN ASSE : A COMEDIE ACTED IN THE YEARE , 1616.

BY HIS MAIESTIES SERVANTS .

The Author BEN : IONSON .

HOR. de ART. POET.

Ficta voluptatis Causâ , sint proxima veris.

LONDON , Printed by I. B. for ROBERT ALLOT , and are to be sold at the signe of the Beare , in Pauls Church-yard . 1631.

THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY . SATAN . The great diuell . PVG. The lesse diuell . INIQVITY . The Vice . FITZ-DOTTRELL . A Squire of Norfolk . Mistresse FRANCES . His wife . MEERE-CRAFT . The Proiector . EVERILL . His Champion . WITTIPOL . A young Gallant . MANLY. His friend . INGINE. A Broaker . TRAINES . The Proiectors man . GVILT-HEAD . A Gold-smith . PLVTARCHVS . His sonne . Sir POVLE EITHER-SIDE . A Lawyer , and Iustice . Lady EITHER-SIDE . His wife . Lady TAILE-BVSH . The Lady Proiectresse . PIT-FALL . Her woman . AMBLER . Her Gentlemanvsher . SLEDGE . A Smith , the Constable . SHACKLES . Keeper of Newgate . SERIEANTS .

The Scene , LONDON .

The Prologue . THe DIVELL is an Asse . That is , to day , The name of what you are met for , a new Play . Yet , Grandee's , would you were not come to grace Our matter , with allowing vs no place . Though you presume SATAN a subtill thing , And may haue heard hee 's worne in a thumbe-ring ; Doe not on these presumptions , force vs act , In compasse of a cheese-trencher . This tract Will ne'er admit our vice , because of yours . Anone , who , worse then you , the fault endures That your selues make ? when you will thrust and spurne , And knocke vs o' the elbowes , and bid , turne ; As if , when wee had spoke , wee must be gone , Or , till wee speake , must all runne in , to one , Like the young adders , at the old ones mouth ? Would wee could stand due North ; or had no South , If that offend : or were Muscouy glasse , That you might looke our Scenes through as they passe . We know not how to affect you . If you 'll come To see new Playes , pray you affoord vs roome , And shew this , but the same face you haue done Your deare delight , the Diuell of Edmunton . Or , if , for want of roome it must mis-carry , 'T will be but Iustice , that your censure tarry , Till you giue some . And when sixe times you ha' seen 't , If this Play doe not like , the Diuell is in 't .
THE DIVELL IS AN ASSE .
ACT. I. SCENE . I. DIVELL . PVG. INIQVITY . HOh , hoh , hoh , hoh , hoh , hoh , hoh , hoh , &c. To earth ? and , why to earth , thou fooolish Spirit ? What wold'st thou do on earth ? PVG. For that , great Chiefe ! As time shal work . I do but ask my mon'th . Which euery petty pui'nee Diuell has ; Within that terme , the Court of Hell will heare Some thing , may gaine a longer grant , perhaps . SAT. For what ? the laming a poore Cow , or two ? Entring a Sow , to make her cast her farrow ? Or crossing of a Mercat-womans Mare , Twixt this , and Totnam ? these were wont to be Your maine atchieuements , Pug , You haue some plot , now , Vpon a tonning of Ale , to stale the yest , Or keepe the churne so , that the buttter come not ; Spight o' the housewiues cord , or her hot spit ? Or some good Ribibe , about Kentish Towne , Or Hogsden , you would hang now , for a witch , Because shee will not let you play round Robbin : And you 'll goe sowre the Citizens Creame 'gainst Sunday ? That she may be accus'd for 't , and condemn'd , By a Middlesex Iury , to the satisfaction Of their offended friends , the Londiners wiues Whose teeth were set on edge with it ? Foolish feind , Stay ● ' your place , know your owne strengths , and put not Beyond the spheare of your actiuity . You are too dull a Diuell to be trusted Forth in those parts , Pug , vpon any affayre That may concerne our name , on earth . It is not Euery ones worke . The state of Hell must care Whom it imployes , in point of reputation , Heere about London . You would make , I thinke An Agent , to be sent , for Lancashire , Proper inough ; or some parts of Northumberland , So yo' had good instructions , Pug. PVG. O Chiefe ! You doe not know , deare Chiefe , what there is in mee . Proue me but for a fortnight , for a weeke , And lend mee but a Vice , to carry with mee , To practice there-with any play-fellow , And , you will see , there will come more vpon 't , Then you 'll imagine , pretious Chiefe . SAT. What Vice ? What kind wouldst th 'haue it of ? PVG. Why , any Frand ; Or Couetousnesse ; or Lady Vanity ; Or old Iniquity : I 'll call him hither . INI. What is he , calls vpon me , and would seeme to lack a Vice ? Ere his words be halfe spoken , I am with him in a trice ; Here , there , and euery where , as the Cat is with the mice : True vetus Iniquitas . Lack'st thou Cards , friend , or Dice ? I will teach thee cheate , Child , to cog , lye , and swagger , And euer and anon , to be drawing forth thy dagger : To sweare by Gogs-nownes , like a lusty Iuuentus , In a cloake to thy heele , and a hat like a pent-house . Thy breeches of three fingers , and thy doublet all belly , With a Wench that shall feede thee , with cock-stones and gelly . PVG. Is it not excellent , Chiefe ? how nimble he is ! INI. Child of hell , this is nothing ! I will fetch thee a leape From the top of Pauls-steeple , to the Standard in Cheepe : And lead thee a daunce , through the streets without faile , Like a needle of Spaine , with a thred at my tayle . We will suruay the Suburbs , and make forth our sallyes , Downe Petticoate-lane , and vp the Smock-allies , To Shoreditch , Whitechappell , and so to Saint Kathernes . To drinke with the Dutch there , and take forth their patternes : From thence , wee will put in at Custome-house key there , And see , how the Factors , and Prentizes play there , False with their Masters ; and gueld many a full packe , To spend it in pies , at the Dagger , and the Wool-sacke . PVG. Braue , braue , Iniquity ! will not this doe , Chiefe ? INI. Nay , boy , I wil bring thee to the Bawds , and the Roysters , At Belins-gate , feasting with claret-wine , and oysters , From thence shoot the Bridge , childe , to the Cranes i' the Vintry , And see , there the gimblets , how they make their entry ▪ Or , if thou hadst rather , to the Strand downe to fall , 'Gainst the Lawyers come dabled from Westminster-hall And marke how they cling , with their clyents together , Like Iuie to Oake ; so Veluet to Leather : Ha , boy , I would shew thee . PVG. Rare , rare ! DIV. Peace , dotard , And thou more ignorant thing , that so admir'st . Art thou the spirit thou seem'st ? so poore ? to choose This , for a Vice , t' aduance the cause of Hell , Now ? as Vice stands this present yeere ? Remember , What number it is . Six hundred and sixteene . Had it but beene fiue hundred , though some sixty Aboue ; that 's fifty yeeres agone , and six , ( When euery great man had his Vice stand by him , In his long coat , shaking his wooden dagger ) I could consent , that , then this your graue choice Might haue done that , with his Lord Chiefe , the which Most of his chamber can doe now . But Pug , As the times are , who is it , will receiue you ? What company will you goe to ? or whom mix with ? Where canst thou carry him ? except to Tauernes ? To mount vp ona joynt-stoole , with a Iewes-trumpe , To put downe Cokeley , and that must be to Citizens ? He ne're will be admitted , there , where Vennor comes . Hee may perchance , in taile of a Sheriffes dinner , Skip with a rime o' the Table , from New-nothing , And take his Almaine-leape into a custard , Shall make my Lad Maioresse , and her sisters , Laugh all their hoods ouer their shoulders . But , This is not that will doe , they are other things That are receiu'd now vpon earth , for Vices ; Stranger , and newer : and chang'd euery houre . They ride 'hem like their horses off their legges , And here they come to Hell , whole legions of 'hem , Euery weeke tyr'd . Wee , still striue to breed , And reare 'hem vp new ones ; but they doe not stand , When they come there : they turne 'hem on our hands . And it is fear'd they haue a stud o' their owne Will put downe ours . Both our breed , and trade Will suddenly decay , if we preuent not . Vnlesse it be a Vice of quality , Or fashion , now , they take none from vs. Car-men Are got into the yellow starch , and Chimney-sweepers To their tabacco , and strong-waters , Hum , Meath , and Obarni . We must therefore ayme At extraordinary subtill ones , now , When we doe send to keepe vs vp in credit . Not old Iniquities . Get you e'ne backe , Sir , To making of your rope of sand againe . You are not for the manners , nor the times : They haue their Vices , there , most like to Vertues ; You cannnot know 'hem , apart , by any difference : They weare the same clothes , eate the same meate , Sleepe i' the selfe-same beds , ride i' those coaches . Or very like , foure horses in a coach , As the best men and women . Tissue gownes , Garters and roses , fourescore pound a paire , Embroydred stockings , cut-worke smocks , and shirts , More certaine marks of lechery , now , and pride , Then ere they were of true nobility ! But Pug , since you doe burne with such desire To doe the Common-wealth of Hell some seruice ; I am content , assuming of a body , You goe to earth , and visit men , a day . But you must take a body ready made , Pug , I can create you none : nor shall you forme Your selfe an aery one , but become subiect To all impression of the flesh , you take , So farre as humane frailty . So , this morning , There is a handsome Cutpurse hang'd at Tiborne , Whose spirit departed , you may enter his body : For clothes imploy your credit , with the Hangman , Or let our tribe of Brokers furnish you . And , looke , how farre your subtilty can worke Thorow those organs , with that body , spye Amongst mankind , ( you cannot there want vices , And therefore the lesse need to carry 'hem wi' you ) But as you make your soone at nights relation , And we shall find , it merits from the State , You shall haue both trust from vs , and imployment . PVG. Most gracious Chiefe ! DIV. Onely , thus more I bind you , He shewes Fitz-dottrel to him , comming forth . To serue the first man that you meete ; and him I 'le shew you , now : Obserue him . Yon' is hee , You shall see , first , after your clothing . Follow him : But once engag'd , there you must stay and fixe ; Not shift , vntill the midnights cocke doe crow . PVG. Any conditions to be gone . DIV. Away , then .
ACT. I. SCENE . II. FITZ-DOTTRELL . I , they doe , now , name Bretnor , as before , They talk'd of Gresham , and of Doctor Fore-man , Francklin , and Fiske , and Sauory ( he was in too ) But there 's not one of these , that euer could Yet shew a man the Diuell , in true sort . They haue their christalls , I doe know , and rings , And virgin parchment , and their dead-mens sculls Their rauens wings , their lights , and pentacles , With characters ; I ha' seene all these . But — Would I might see the Diuell . I would giue A hundred o' these pictures , to see him Once out of picture . May I proue a cuckold , ( And that 's the one maine mortall thing I feare ) If I beginne not , now , to thinke , the Painters Haue onely made him . 'Slight , he would be seene , One time or other else . He would not let An ancient gentleman , of a good house , As most are now in England , the Fitz-dottrel's , Runne wilde , and call vpon him thus in vaine , As I ha' done this twelue mone'th . If he be not , At all , why , are there Coniurers ? If they be not , Why , are there lawes against 'hem ? The best artists Of Cambridge , Oxford , Middlesex , and London , Essex , and Kent , I haue had in pay to raise him , These fifty weekes , and yet h' appeares not . 'S death , I shall suspect , they , can make circles onely Shortly , and know but his hard names . They doe say , H' will meet a man ( of himselfe ) that has a mind to him . If hee would so , I haue a minde and a halfe for him : He should not be long absent . Pray thee , come I long for thee . An' I were with child by him , He expresses a longing to see the Diuell . And my wife , too ; I could not more . Come , yet , Good Beelezebub . Were hee a kinde diuell , And had humanity in him , hee would come , but To saue ones longing . I should vse him well , I sweare , and with respect ( would he would try mee ) Not , as the Conjurers doe , when they ha' rais'd him . Get him in bonds , and send him post , on errands . A thousand miles , it is preposterous , that : And I beleeue , is the true cause becomes not . And hee has reason . Who would be engag'd , That might liue freely , as he may doe ? I sweare , They are wrong all . The burn't child dreads the fire . They doe not know to entertaine the Diuell . I would so welcome him , obserue his diet , Get him his chamber hung with arras , two of 'hem , I' my own house ; lend him my wiues wrought pillowes : And as I am an honest man , I thinke , If he had a minde to her , too ; I should grant him , To make our friend-ship perfect . So I would nor To euery man . If hee but heare me , now ? And should come to mee in a braue young shape , And take me at my word ? ha ! Who is this ?
ACT. I. SCENE . IIJ. PVG. FITZ-DOTTRELL . SIR , your good pardon , that I thus presume Vpon your priuacy . I am borne a Gentleman , A younger brother ; but , in some disgrace , Now , with my friends : and want some little meanes , To keepe me vpright , while things be reconcil'd . Please you , to let my seruice be of vse to you , Sir . FIT. Seruice ? 'fore hell , my heart was at my mouth , Hee lookes and suruay's his fear : ouer and ouer . Till I had view'd his shooes well : for , those roses Were bigge inough to hide a clouen foote . No , friend , my number 's full . I haue one seruant , Who is my all , indeed ; and , from the broome Vnto the brush : for , iust so farre , I trust him . He is my Ward-robe man , my Cater , Cooke , Butler , and Steward ; lookes vnto my horse : And helpes to watch my wife . H' has all the places , That I can thinke on , from the garret downward , E'en to the manger , and the curry-combe . PVG. Sir , I shall put your worship to no charge , More then my meate , and that bu● very little , I 'le serue you for your loue . FIT. Ha ? without wages ? I 'le harken o' that eare , were I at leasure . But now , I 'm busie . ' Pr'y the , friend forbeare mee , And ' thou hadst beene a Diuell , I should say Somewhat more to thee . Thou dost hinder , now , My meditations . PVG. Sir , I am a Diuell . FIT. How ! PVG. A true Diuell , Sr. FIT. Nay , now , you ly : Vnder your fauour , friend , for , I 'll not quarrell . I look'd o' your feet , afore , you cannot coozen mee , Your shoo 's not clouen , Sir , you are whole hoof'd . He viewes his feete againe . PVG. Sir , that 's a popular error , deceiues many : But I am that , I tell you . FIT. What 's your name ? PVG. My name is Diuell , Sr. FIT. Sai'st thou true . PVG. Indeed , Sr. FIT. 'Slid ! there 's some omen i' this ! what countryman ? PVG. Of Derby-shire , Sr. about the Peake . FIT. That Hole Belong'd to your Ancestors ? PVG. Yes , Diuells arse , Sr. FIT. I 'll entertaine him for the name sake . Ha ? And turne away my tother man ? and saue Foure pound a yeere by that ? there 's lucke , and thrift too ! The very Diuell may come , heereafter , as well . Friend , I receiue you : but ( withall ) I acquaint you , Aforehand , if yo' offend mee , I must beat you . It is a kinde of exercise , I vse . And cannot be without . PVG. Yes , if I doe not Offend , you can , sure . FIT. Faith , Diuell , very hardly : I 'll call you by your surname , 'cause I loue it .
ACT. I. SCENE . IIII. INGINE. WITTIPOL . MANLY. FITZDOTTRELL . PVG. YOnder hee walkes , Sir , I 'll goe lift him for you . WIT. To him , good Ingine , raise him vp by degrees , Gently , and hold him there too , you can doe it . Shew your selfe now , a Mathematicall broker . ING. I 'll warrant you for halfe a piece . WIT. 'T is done , Sr. MAN . Is' t possible there should be such a man ? WIT. You shall be your owne witnesse , I 'll not labour To tempt you past your faith . MAN . And is his wife So very handsome , say you ? WIT. I ha' not seene her , Since I came home from trauell : and they say , Shee is not alter'd . Then , before I went , I saw her once ; but so , as shee hath stuck Still i' my view , no obiect hath remou'd her . MAN . 'T is a faire guest , Friend , beauty : and once lodg'd Deepe in the eyes , shee hardly leaues the Inne . How do's he keepe her ? WIT. Very braue . Howeuer , Himselfe be sordide , hee is sensuall that way . In euery dressing , hee do's study her . MAN . And furnish forth himselfe so from the Brokers ? WIT. Yes , that 's a hyr'd suite , hee now has one , To see the Diuell is an Asse , to day , in ▪ ( This Ingine gets three or foure pound a weeke by him ) He dares not misse a new Play , or a Feast , What rate soeuer clothes be at ; and thinkes Himselfe still new , in other mens old . MAN . But stay , Do's he loue meat so ? WIT. Faith he do's not hate it . But that 's not it . His belly and his palate Would be compounded with for reason Mary , A wit he has , of that strange credit with him , 'Gainst all mankinde ; as it doth make him doe Iust what it list : it rauishes him forth , Whither it please , to any assembly or place , And would conclude him ruin'd , should hee scape One publike meeting , out of the beliefe Ingine hath won Fitz-dottrel , to say on the cloake . He has of his owne great , and Catholike strengths , In arguing , and discourse . It takes , I see : H' has got the cloak vpon him . FIT. A faire garment , By my faith , Ingine ! ING. It was neuer made , Sir , For three score pound , I assure you : 'T will yeeld thirty . The plush , Sir , cost three pound , ten shillings a yard ! And then the lace , and veluet . FIT. I shall , Ingine , Be look'd at , pretitly , in it ! Art thou sure The Play is play'd to day ? ING. ô here 's the bill , Sr. Hee giues him the Play-bill . I' , had forgot to gi 't you . FIT. Ha ? the Diuell ! I will not lose you , Sirah ! But , Ingine , thinke you , The Gallant is so furious in his folly ? So mad vpon the matter , that hee 'll part With 's cloake vpo' these termes ? ING. Trust not your Ingine , Breake me to pieces else , as you would doe A rotten Crane , or an old rusty Iacke , That has not one true wheele in him . Doe but talke with him . FIT. I shall doe that , to satisfie you , Ingine , Hee turnes to Wittipol . And my selfe too . With your leaue , Gentlemen . Which of you is it , is so meere Idolater To my wiues beauty , and so very prodigall Vnto my patience , that , for the short parlee ? Of one swift houres quarter , with my wife , He will depart with ( let mee see ) this cloake here The price of folly ? Sir , are you the man ? WIT. I am that vent'rer , Sir . FIT. Good time ! your name Is Witty-pol ? WIT. The same , Sr. FIT. And 't is told me , Yo' haue trauell'd lately ? WIT. That I haue , Sr. FIT. Truly , Your trauells may haue alter'd your complexion ; But sure , your wit stood still . WIT. It may well be , Sir . All heads ha' not like growth . FIT. The good mans grauity , That left you land , your father , neuer taught you These pleasant matches ? WIT. No , nor can his mirth , With whom I make 'hem , put me off . FIT. You are Resolu'd then ? WIT. Yes , Sr. FIT. Beauty is the Saint , You 'll sacrifice your selfe , into the shirt too ? WIT. So I may still cloth , and keepe warme your wisdome ? FIT. You lade me Sr ! WIT. I know what you wil beare , Sr. FIT. Well , to the point . 'T is only , Sir , you say , To speake vnto my wife ? WIT. Only , to speake to her . FIT. And in my presence ? WIT. In your very presence . FIT. And in my hearing ? WIT. In your hearing : so , You interrupt vs not . FIT. For the short space You doe demand , the fourth part of an houre , I thinke I shall , with some conuenient study , Hee shrugs himselfe vp in the cloake . And this good helpe to boot , bring my selfe to 't . WIT. I aske no more . FIT. Please you , walk to'ard my house , Speake what you list ; that time is yours : My right I haue departed with . But , not beyond , A minute , or a second , looke for . Length , And drawing out , ma'aduance much , to these matches . And I except all kissing . Kisses are Silent petitions still with willing Louers . WIT. Louers ? How falls that o' your phantsie ? FIT. Sir . I doe know somewhat , I forbid all lip-worke . WIT. I am not eager at forbidden dainties . Who couets vnfit things , denies him selfe . FIT. You say well , Sir , 'T was prettily said , that same , He do's , indeed . I 'll haue no touches , therefore , Nor takings by the armes , nor tender circles Cast 'bout the wast , but all be done at distance . Loue is brought vp with those soft migniard handlings ; His pulse lies in his palme : and I defend All melting ioynts , and fingers , ( that 's my bargaine ) I doe defend 'hem ; any thing like action . But talke , Sir , what you will . Vse all the Tropes And Schemes , that Prince Quintilian can afford you : And much good do your Rhetoriques heart . You are welcome , Sir . Ingine , God b' w' you . WIT. Sir , I must condition To haue this Gentleman by , a witnesse . FIT. Well , I am content , so he be silent . MAN . Yes , Sir . FIT. Come Diuell , I 'll make you roome , streight . But I 'll shew you First , to your Mistresse , who 's no common one , You must conceiue , that brings this gaine to see her . I hope thou 'st brought me good lucke . PVG. I shall do 't . Sir .
ACT. I. SCENE . V. WITTIPOL . MANLY. Wittipol knocks his friend o' the brest . INgine , you hope o' your halfe piece ? 'T is there , Sir . Be gone . Friend Manly , who 's within here ? fixed ? MAN . I am directly in a fit of wonder what 'll be the issue of this conference ! WIT. For that , ne'r vex your selfe , till the euent . How like yo' him ? MAN . I would faine see more of him . WIT. What thinke you of this ? MAN . I am past degrees of thinking . Old Africk , and the new America , With all their fruite of Monsters cannot shew So iust a prodigie . WIT. Could you haue beleeu'd , Without your sight , a minde so sordide inward , Should be so specious , and layd forth abroad , To all the shew , that euer shop , or ware was ? MAN . I beleeue any thing now , though I confesse His Vices are the most extremities I euer knew in nature . But , why loues hee The Diuell so ? WIT. O Sr ! for hidden treasure , Hee hopes to finde : and has propos'd himselfe So infinite a Masse , as to recouer , He cares not what he parts with , of the present , To his men of Art , who are the race , may coyne him . Promise gold mountaines , and the couetous Are still most prodigall . MAN . But ha' you faith , That he will hold his bargaine ? WIT. O deare , Sir ! He will not off on 't . Feare him not . I know him . One basenesse still accompanies another . See! he is heere already , and his wife too . MAN . A wondrous handsome creature , as I liue !
ACT. I. SCENE . VI. FITZ-DOTTRELL . Mistresse FITZ-DOTTREL . WITTIPOL . MANLY. COme wife , this is the Gentleman . Nay , blush not . Mrs. FI. Why , what do you meane Sir ? ha' you your reason ? FIT. Wife , I do not know , that I haue lent it forth To any one ; at least , without a pawne , wife : Or that I' haue eat or drunke the thing , of late , That should corrupt it . Wherefore gentle wife , Obey , it is thy vertue : hold no acts Of disputation . Mrs. FI. Are you not enough The talke , of feasts , and meetingy , but you 'll still Make argument for fresh ? FIT. Why , carefull wedlocke , If I haue haue a longing to haue one tale more Goe of mee , what is that to thee , deare heart ? Why shouldst thou enuy my delight ? or crosse it ? By being solicitous , when it not concernes thee ? Mrs. FI. Yes , I haue share in this The scorne will fall As bittterly on me , where both are laught at . FIT. Laught at , sweet bird ? is that the scruple ? Come , come , Thou art a Niaise . Which of your great houses , A Niaise is a young Hawke , tane crying out of the nest . ( I will not meane at home , here , but abroad ) Your families in France , wife , send not forth Something , within the seuen yeere , may be laught at ? I doe not say seuen moneths , nor seuen weekes , Nor seuen daies , nor houres : but seuen yeere wife . I giue 'hem time . Once , within seuen yeere , I thinke they may doe something may be laught at . In France , I keepe me there , still . Wherefore , wife , Let them that list , laugh still , rather then weepe For me ; Heere is a cloake cost fifty pound , wife , Which I can sell for thirty , when I ha' seene All London in 't , and London has seene mee . To day , I goe to the Black fryers Play-house , Sit it he view , salute all my acquaintance , Rise vp betweene the Acts , let fall my cloake , Publish a handsome man , and a rich suite ( As that 's a speciall end , why we goe thither , All that pretend , to stand for 't o' the Stage ) The Ladies aske who 's that ? ( For , they doe come To see vs , Loue , as wee doe to see them ) Now , I shall lose all this , for the false feare Of being laught at ? Yes , wusse . Let 'hem laugh , wife , Let me haue such another cloake to morrow . And let 'hem laugh againe , wife , and againe , And then grow fat with laughing , and then fatter , All my young Gallants , let 'hem bring their friends too : Shall I forbid 'hem ? No , let heauen forbid 'hem : Or wit , if 't haue any charge on 'hem . Come , thy eare , wife , Is all , I 'll borrow of thee . Set your watch , Sir , Thou , onely art to heare , not speake a word , Doue , To ought he sayes . That I doe gi' you in precept , No lesse then councell , on your wiue-hood , wife , Not though he flatter you , or make court , or Loue , ( As you must looke for these ) or say , he raile ; What ere his arts be , wife , I will haue thee Delude 'hem with a trick , thy obstinate silence ; I know aduantages ; and I loue to hit These pragmaticke young men , at their owne weapons . He disposes his wife to his place , and sets his watch . Is your watch ready ? Here my saile beares , for you : Tack toward him , sweet Pinnace , where 's your watch ? WIT. I 'le set it , Sir , with yours . Mrs. FI. I must obey . MAN . Her modesty seemes to suffer with her beauty , And so , as if his folly were away , It were worth pitty . FIT. Now , th' are right , beginne , Sir . But first , let me repeat the contract , briefely , I am , Sir , to inioy this cloake , I stand in , Freely , and as your gift ; vpon condition Hee repeats his contract againe . You may as freely , speake here to my spouse , Your quarter of an houre alwaies keeping The measur'd distance of your yard , or more , From my said Spouse : and in my sight and hearing . This is your couenant ? WIT. Yes , but you 'll allow For this time spent , now ? FIT. Set 'hem so much backe . WIT. I thinke , I shall not need it . FIT. Well , begin , Sir , There is your bound , Sir . Not beyond that rush . WIT. If you interrupt me , Sir , I shall discloake you . Wittipol beginnes . The time I haue purchast , Lady , is but short ; And , therefore , if I imploy it thriftily , I hope I stand the neerer to my pardon . I am not here , to tell you , you are faire , Or louely , or how well you dresse you , Lady , I 'll saue my selfe that eloquence of your glasse , Which can speake these things better to you then I. And 't is a knowledge , wherein fooles may be As wise as a Court Parliament . Nor come I , With any preiudice , or doubt , that you Should , to the notice of your owne worth , neede Least reuelation . Shee 's a simple woman , Know's not her good : ( who euer knowes her ill ) And at all caracts . That you are the wife , To so much blasted flesh , as scarce hath soule , In stead of salt , to keepe it sweete ; I thinke , Will aske no witnesses , to proue . The cold Sheetes that you lie in , with the watching candle , That sees , how dull to any thaw of beauty , Pieces , and quarters , halfe , and whole nights , sometimes , The Diuell-giuen Elfine Squire , your husband , Doth leaue you , quitting heere his proper circle , For a much-worse i' the walks of Lincolnes Inne , Vnder the Elmes , t' expect the feind in vaine , there Will confesse for you . FIT. I did looke for this geere . WIT. And what a daughter of darknesse , he do's make you , Lock'd vp from all society , or object ; Your eye not let to looke vpon a face , Vnder a Conjurers ( or some mould for one , Hollow , and leane like his ) but , by great meanes , As I now make ; your owne too sensible sufferings , Without the extraordinary aydes , Of spells , or spirits , may assure you , Lady . For my part , I protest 'gainst all such practice , I worke by no false arts , medicines , or charmes To be said forward and backward . FIT. No , I except : WIT. Sir I shall ease you . FIT. Mum. WIT. Nor haue I ends , Lady , He offers to discloake him . Vpon you , more then this : to tell you how Loue Beauties good Angell , he that waits vpon her At all occasions , and no lesse then Fortune , Helps th' aduenturous , in mee makes that proffer , Which neuer faire one was so fond , to lose ; Who could but reach a hand forth to her freedome ; On the first sight , I lou'd you : since which time , Though I haue trauell'd , I haue beene in trauell More for this second blessing of your eyes Which now I' haue purchas'd , then for all aymes else . Thinke of it , Lady , be your minde as actiue , As is your beauty : view your object well . Examine both my fashion , and my yeeres Things , that are like , are soone familiar : And Nature ioyes , still in equality . Let not the signe o' the husband fright you , Lady . But ere your spring be gone , inioy it . Flowers , Though faire , are oft but of one morning . Thinke , All beauty doth not last vntill the autumne . You grow old , while I tell you this . And such , As cannot vse the present , are not wise . If Loue and Fortune will take care of vs , Why ● should our will be wanting ? This is all . What doe you answer , Lady ? FIT. Now , the sport comes . Shee stands mute . Let him still waite , waite , waite : while the watch goes , And the time runs . Wife ! WIT. How ! not any word ? Nay , then , I taste a tricke in 't . Worthy Lady , I cannot be so false to mine owne thoughts Of your presumed goodnesse , to conceiue This , as your rudenesse , which I see 's impos'd . Yet , since your cautelous Iaylor , here stands by you , And yo' are deni'd the liberty o' the house , Let me take warrant , Lady , from your silence , ( Which euer is interpreted consent ) To make your answer for you : which shall be To as good purpose , as I can imagine , And what I thinke you 'ld speake . FIT. No , no , no , no. WIT. He sets Mr. Manly , his friend in her place . I shall resume , Sr. MAN . Sir , what doe you meane ? WIT. One interruption more , Sir , and you goe Into your hose and doublet , nothing saues you . And therefore harken . This is for your wife . MAN . You must play faire , Sr. WIT. Stand for mee , good friend . And speaks for her . Troth , Sir , t is more then true , that you haue vttred Of my vnequall , and so sordide match heere , With all the circumstances of my bondage . I haue a husband , and a two-legg'd one , But such a moon-ling , as no wit of man Or roses can redeeme from being an Asse . H' is growne too much , the story of mens mouthes To scape his lading : should I make 't my study , And lay all wayes , yea , call mankind to helpe , To take his burden off , why , this one act Of his , to let his wife out to be courted , And , at a price , proclaimes his asinine nature So lowd , as I am weary of my title to him . But Sir , you seeme a Gentleman of vertue , No lesse then blood ; and one that euery way Lookes as he were of too good quality , To intrap a credulous woman , or betray her : Since you haue payd thus deare , Sir , for a visit , And made such venter , on your wit , and charge Meerely to see mee , or at most to speake to mee , I were too stupid ; or ( what 's worse ) ingrate Not to returne your venter . Thinke , but how , I may with safety doe it ; I shall trust My loue and honour to you , and presume ; You 'll euer husband both , against this husband ; Who , if we chance to change his liberall eares , To other ensignes , and with labour make A new beast of him , as hee shall deserue , Cannot complaine , hee is vnkindly dealth with . This day hee is to goe to a new play , Sir . From whence no feare , no , nor authority , Scarcely the Kings command , Sir , will restraine him , Now you haue fitted him with a Stage-garment , For the meere names sake , were there nothings else , And many more such iourneyes , hee will make . Which , if they now , or , any time heereafter , Offer vs opportunity , you heare , Sir , who 'll be as glad , and forward to imbrace , Meete , and enioy it chearefully as you . I humbly thanke you , Lady . FIT. Keepe your ground Sir . WIT. Will you be lightned ? FIT. Mum. WIT. And but I am , By the sad contract , thus to take my leaue of you At this so enuious distance , I had taught Our lips ere this , to seale the happy mixture Made of our soules . But we must both , now , yeeld To the necessity . Doe not thinke yet , Lady , But I can kisse , and touch , and laugh , and whisper , And doe those crowning court-ships too , for which Day , and the publike haue allow'd no name But , now , my bargaine binds me . 'T were rude iniury , T' importune more , or vrge a noble nature , To what of it's owne bounty it is prone to : Else , I should speake — But , Lady , I loue so well , As I will hope , you 'll doe so to . I haue done , Sir . FIT. Well , then , I ha' won ? WIT. Sir , And I may win , too . FIT. O yes ! no doubt on 't . I 'll take carefull order , That shee shall hang forth ensignes at the window , To tell you when I am absent . Or I 'll keepe Three or foure foote-men , ready still of purpose , To runne and fetch you at her longings , Sir . I 'll goe bespeake me straight a guilt caroch , For her and you to take the ayre in : yes , Into Hide-parke , and thence into Black-Fryers , Visit the painters , where you may see pictures , And note the properest limbs , and how to make 'hem . Or what doe you say vnto a middling Gossip ? To bring you aye together , at her lodging ? Vnder pretext of teaching o' my wife Some rare receit of drawing almond milke ? ha ? It shall be a part of my care . Good Sir , God b' w' you . I ha' kept the contract , and the cloake is mine owne . WIT. Why , much good do 't you Sr ; it may fall out , That you ha' bought it deare , though I ha' not sold it . FIT. A pretty riddle ! Fare you well , good Sir . Hee turnes his wife about . Wife , your face this way , looke on me : and thinke Yo' haue had a wicked dreame , wife , and forget it . MAN . This is the strangest motion I ere saw . FIT. Now , wife , sits this faire cloake the worse vpon me , For my great sufferings , or your little patience ? ha ? They laugh , you thinke ? Mrs. FI Why Sr. and you might see 't . What thought , they haue of you , may be soone collected By the young Genlemans speache . FIT. Young Gentleman ? Death ! you are in loue with him , are you ? could he not Be nam'd the Gentleman , without the young ? Vp to your Cabbin againe . Mrs. FI My cage , yo' were best To call it ? FIT. Yes , sing there . You 'ld faine be making Blanck Manger with him at your mothers ! I know you . Goe get you vp . How now ! what say you , Diuell ?
ACT. I. SCENE . VII . PVG. FITZDOTTREL . INGINE. HEere is one Ingine , Sir , desires to speake with you . FIT. I thought he brought some newes , of a broker ! Well , Let him come in , good Diuell : fetch him else . O , my fine Ingine ! what 's th' affaire ? more cheats ? ING. No Sir , the Wit , the Braine , the great Proiector , I told you of , is newly come to towne . FIT. Where , Ingine ? ING. I ha' brought him ( H' is without ) Ere hee pull'd off his boots , Sir , but so follow'd , For businesses : FIT. But what is a Proiector ? I would conceiue . ING. Why , one Sir , that proiects Wayes to enrich men , or to make 'hem great , By suites , by marriages , by vndertakings : According as hee sees they humour it . FIT. Can hee not coniure at all ? ING. I thinke he can , Sir . ( To tell you true ) but , you doe know , of late , The State hath tane such note of 'hem , and compell'd 'hem , To enter such great bonds , they dare not practice . FIT. 'T is true , and I lie fallow for 't , the while ! ING. O , Sir ! you 'll grow the richer for the rest . FIT. I hope I shall : but Ingine , you doe talke Somewhat too much , o' my courses . My Cloake-customer Could tell mee strange particulars . ING. By my meanes ? FIT. How should he haue 'hem else ? ING. You do not know , Sr , What he has : and by what arts ! A monei'd man , Sir , And is as great with your Almanack-Men , as you are ! FIT. That Gallant ? ING. You make the other wait too long , here : And hee is extreme punctuall . FIT. Is he a gallant ? ING. Sir , you shall see : He ' is in his riding suit , As hee comes now from Court . But heere him speake : Minister matter to him , and then tell mee .
ACT. IJ. SCENE . I. MEER-CRAFT . FITZ-DOTTREL . INGINE. TRAINES . PVG. SIr , money 's a whore , a bawd , a drudge ; Fit to runne out on errands : Let her goe . Via pecunia ! when she 's runne and gone , And fled and dead ; then will I fetch her , againe , With Aqua-vitae , out of an old Hogs-head ! While there are lees of wine , or dregs of beere , I 'le neuer want her ! Coyne her out of cobwebs , Dust , but I 'll haue her ! Raise wooll vpon egge-shells , Sir , and make grasse grow out o' marro-bones . To make her come . ( Commend mee to your Mistresse , To a waiter . Say , let the thousand pound but be had ready , And it is done ) I would but see the creature ( Of flesh , and blood ) the man , the prince , indeed , That could imploy so many millions As I would help him to . FIT. How , talks he ? millions ? MER. ( I 'll giue you an account of this to morrow . To another . ) Yes , I will talke no lesse , and doe it too ; If they were Myriades : and without the Diuell , By direct meanes , it shall be good in law . ING. Sir . MER. Tell Mr. Wood-cock , I 'll not faile to meet him Vpon th' Exchange at night . Pray him to haue The writings there , and wee 'll dispatch it : Sir , You are a Gentleman of a good presence , A handsome man ( I haue considered you ) As a fit stocke to graft honours vpon : I haue a Proiect to make you a Duke , now . That you must be one , within so many moneths , As I set downe , out of true reason of state , You sha' not auoyd it . But you must harken , then . ING. Harken ? why Sr , do you doubt his eares ? Alas ! You doe not know Master Fitz-dottrel . FIT. He do's not know me indeed . I thank you , Ingine , Fot rectifying him . MER. Good ! Why , Ingine , then I 'le tell it you . ( I see you ha' credit , here , And , that you can keepe counsell , I 'll not question . ) Hee shall but be an vndertaker with mee , In a most feasible bus'nesse . It shall cost him Nothing . ING. Good , Sr. MER. Except he please , but 's count'nance ; ( That I will haue ) t' appeare in 't , to great men , For which I 'll make him one . Hee shall not draw A string of 's purse . I 'll driue his pattent for him . We 'll take in Cittizens , Commoners , and Aldermen , To beare the charge , and blow 'hem off againe , Like so many dead flyes , when 't is carryed . The thing is for recouery of drown'd Land , Whereof the Crown 's to haue a moiety , If it be owner ; Else , the Crowne and Owners To share that moyety : and the recouerers T' enioy the tother moyety , for their charge . ING. Throughout England ? MER. Yes , which will arise To eyghteene millions , seuen the first yeere : I haue computed all , and made my suruay Vnto an acre , I 'll beginne at the Pan , Not , at the skirts : as some ha' done , and lost , All that they wrought , their timber-worke , their trench , Their bankes all borne away , or else fill'd vp By the next winter . Tut , they neuer went The way : I 'll haue it all . ING. A Gallant tract Of land it is ! MER. 'T will yeeld a pound an acre . Wee must let cheape , euer , at first . But Sir , This lookes too large for you , I see . Come hither , We 'll haue a lesse . Here 's a plain fellow , you see him , Has his black bag of papers , there , in Buckram , Wi' not be sold for th' Earledome of Pancridge : Draw , Gi' me out one , by chance . Proiect ; foure dogs skins ? Twelue thousand pound ! the very worst , at first . FIT. Pray you let 's see 't Sir . MER. 'T is a toy , a trifle ! FIT. Trifle ! 12. thousand pound for dogs-skins ? MER. Yes , But , by my way of dressing , you must know , Sir , And med'cining the leather , to a height Of improu'd ware , like your Borachio Of Spaine , Sir . I can fetch nine thousand for 't — ING. Of the Kings glouer ? MER. Yes , how heard you that ? ING Sir , I doe know you can . MER. Within this houre : And reserue halfe my secret . Pluck another ; Hee pluckes out the 2. Bottle-ale . See if thou hast a happier hand : I thought so . The very next worse to it ● Bottle-ale . Yet , this is two and twenty thousand ! Pr'y thee Pull out another , two or three . FIT. Good , stay , friend , By bottle-ale , two and twenty thousand pound ? MER. Yes , Sir , it 's cast to penny-hal' penny-farthing , O' the back-side , there you may see it , read , I will not bate a Harrington o' the summe . I 'll winne it i' my water , and my malt , My furnaces , and hanging o' my coppers , The tonning , and the subtilty o' my yest ; And , then the earth of my bottles , which I dig , Turne vp , and steepe , and worke , and neale , my selfe , To a degree of Porc'lane . You will wonder , At my proportions , what I will put vp In seuen yeeres ! for so long time , I aske For my inuention . I will saue in cork , In my mere stop'ling , 'boue three thousand pound , Within that terme : by googing of 'hem out Iust to the size of my bottles , and not slicing . There 's infinite losse i' that . What hast thou there ? Hee drawes out another . Raisines . O' making wine of raisins : this is in hand , now , ING. Is not that strange , Sr , to make wine of raisins ? MER. Yes , and as true a wine , as th' wines of France , Or Spaine , or Italy , Looke of what grape My raisin is , that wine I 'll render perfect , As of the muscatell grape , I 'll render muscatell ; Of the Canary , his ; the Claret , his ; So of all kinds : and bate you of the prices , Of wine , throughout the kingdome , halfe in halfe . ING. But , how , Sr , if you raise the other commodity , Raysins ? MER. Why , then I 'll make it out of black-berries : And it shall doe the same . 'T is but more art , And the charge lesse . Take out another . FIT. No , good Sir . Saue you the trouble , I 'le not looke , nor heare Of any , but your first , there ; the Drown'd land : If 't will doe , as you say . MER. Sir , there 's not place , To gi' you demonstration of these things . They are a little to subtle . But , I could shew you Such a necessity in 't , as you must be But what you please : against the receiu'd heresie , That England beares no Dukes . Keepe you the land , Sr , The greatnesse of th' estate shall throw 't vpon you . If you like better turning it to money , What may not you , Sr , purchase with that wealth ? Say , you should part with two o' your millions , To be the thing you would , who would not do ' t ? As I protest , I will , out of my diuident , Lay , for some pretty principality , In Italy , from the Church : Now , you perhaps , Fancy the smoake of England , rather ? But — Ha' you no priuate roome , Sir , to draw to , T' enlarge our selues more vpon . FIT. O yes , Diuell ! MER. These , Sir , are bus'nesses , aske to be carryed With caution , and in cloud . FIT. I apprehend , They doe so , Sr. Diuell , which way is your Mistresse ? PVG. Aboue , Sr. in her chamber . FIT. O that 's well . Then , this way , good , Sir . MER. I shall follow you ; Traines , Gi' mee the bag , and goe you presently , Commend my seruice to my Lady Tail-bush . Tell her I am come from Court this morning ; say , I' haue got our bus'nesse mou'd , and well : Intreat her , That shee giue you the four-score Angels , and see 'hem Dispos'd of to my Councel , Sir Poul Eytherside . Sometime , to day , I 'll waite vpon her Ladiship , With the relation . ING. Sir , of what dispatch , He is ! Do you marke ? MER. Ingine , when did you see My cousin Euer-ill ? keepes he still your quarter ? I' the Bermudas ? ING. Yes , Sir , he was writing This morning , very hard . MER. Be not you knowne to him , That I am come to Towne : I haue effected A businesse for him , but I would haue it take him , Before he thinks for 't . ING. Is it past ? MER. Not yet . 'T is well o' the way . ING. O Sir ! your worship takes Infinit paines . MER. I loue Friends , to be actiue : A sluggish nature puts off man , and kinde . ING. And such a blessing followes it . MER. I thanke My fate . Pray you let 's be priuate , Sir ? FIT. In , here . MER. Where none may interrupt vs. FIT. You heare , Diuel , Lock the streete-doores fast , and let no one in ( Except they be this Gentlemans followers ) To trouble mee . Doe you marke ? Yo' haue heard and seene Something , to day ; and , by it , you may gather Your Mistresse is a fruite , that 's worth the stealing And therefore worth the watching . Be you sure , now , Yo' haue all your eyes about you ; and let in No lace-woman ; nor bawd , that brings French-masques , And cut-works . See you ? Nor old croanes , with wafers , To conuey letters . Nor no youths , disguis'd Like country-wiues , with creame , and marrow-puddings . Much knauery may be vented in a pudding , Much bawdy intelligence : They ' are shrewd ciphers . Nor turne the key to any neyghbours neede ; Be 't but to kindle fire , or begg a little , Put it out , rather : all out , to an ashe , That they may see no smoake . Or water , spill it : Knock o' the empty tubs , that by the sound , They may be forbid entry . Say , wee are robb'd , If any come to borrow a spoone , or so . I wi' not haue good fortune , or gods blessing Let in , while I am busie . PVG. I 'le take care , Sir : They sha' not trouble you , if they would . FIT. Well , doe so .
ACT. II. SCENE . II. PVG. Mistresse FITZDOTTRELL . I haue no singular seruice of this , now ? Nor no superlatiue Master ? I shall wish To be in hell againe , at leasure ? Bring , A Vice from thence ? That had bin such a subtilty , As to bring broad-clothes hither : or transport Fresh oranges into Spaine . I finde it , now ; My Chiefe was i' the right . Can any feind Boast of a better Vice , then heere by nature , And art , th' are owners of ? Hell ne'r owne mee , But I am taken ! the fine tract of it Pulls mee along ! To heare men such professors Growne in our subtlest Sciences ! My first Act , now , Shall be , to make this Master of mine cuckold : The primitiue worke of darknesse , I will practise ! I will deserue so well of my faire Mistresse , By my discoueries , first ; my counsells after ; And keeping counsell , after that : as who , So euer , is one , I 'le be another , sure , I 'll ha' my share . Most delicate damn'd flesh ! Slice will be ! O! that I could stay time , now , Midnight will come too fast vpon mee , I feare , Shee sends Diuell out . To cut my pleasure — Mrs. FI. Looke at the back-doore , One knocks , see who it is . PVG. Dainty she-Diuell ! Mrs. FI. I cannot get this venter of the cloake , Out of my fancie ; nor the Gentlemans way , He tooke , which though 't were strange , yet 't was handsome , And had a grace withall , beyond the newnesse . Sure he will thinke mee that dull stupid creature , Hee said , and may conclude it ; if I finde not Some thought to thanke th' attemp . He did presume , By all the carriage of it , on my braine , For answer ; and will sweare 't is very barren , Diuell returnes . If it can yeeld him no returne Who is it ? PVG. Mistresse , it is , but first , let me assure The excellence , of Mistresses , I am , Although my Masters man , my Mistresse slaue , The seruant of her secrets , and sweete turnes , And know , what fitly will conduce to either . Mrs. FI. What 's this ? I pray you come to your selfe and thinke What your part is : to make an answer . Tell , Who is it at the doore ? PVG. The Gentleman , Mrs , Who was at the cloake-charge to speake with you , This morning , who expects onely to take Some small command'ments from you , what you please , Worthy your forme , hee saies , and gentlest manners . Mrs. FI. O! you 'll anon proue his hyr'd man , I feare , What has he giu'n you , for this message ? Sir , Bid him put off his hopes of straw , and leaue To spread his nets , in view , thus . Though they take Master Fitz-dottrel , I am no such foule , Nor faire one , tell him , will be had with stalking . And wish him to for-beare his acting to mee , At the Gentlemans chamber-window in Lincolnes-Inne there , That opens to my gallery : else , I sweare T' acquaint my husband with his folly , and leaue him To the iust rage of his offended iealousie . Or if your Masters sense be not so quicke To right mee , tell him , I shall finde a friend That will repaire mee . Say , I will be quiet . In mine owne house ? Pray you , in those words giue it him . PVG. He goes out . This is some foole turn'd ! Mrs. FI. If he be the Master , Now , of that state and wit , which I allow him ; Sure , hee will vnderstand mee : I durst not Be more direct . For this officious fellow , My husbands new groome , is a spie vpon me , I finde already . Yet , if he but tell him This in my words , hee cannot but conceiue Himselfe both apprehended , and requited . I would not haue him thinke hee met a statue : Or spoke to one , not there , though I were silent . How now ? ha' you told him ? PVG. Yes . Mrs. FI. And what saies he ? PVG. Sayes he ? That which my self would say to you , if I durst . That you are proude , sweet Mistresse ? and with-all , A little ignorant , to entertaine The good that 's proffer'd ; and ( by your beauties leaue ) Not all so wise , as some true politique wife Would be : who hauing match'd with such a Nupson ( I speake it with my Masters peace ) whose face Hath left t' accuse him , now , for 't doth confesse him , What you can make him ; will yet ( out of scruple , And a spic'd conscience ) defraud the poore Gentleman , At least delay him in the thing he longs for , And makes it his whole study , how to compasse , Onely a title . Could but he write Cuckold , He had his ends . For , looke you — Mrs. FI. This can be None but my husbands wit . PVG. My pretious Mrs. M. FI. It creaks his Ingine : The groome neuer durst Be , else , so saucy — PVG. If it were not clearely , His worshipfull ambition ; and the top of it ; The very forked top too : why should hee Keepe you , thus mur'd vp in a back-roome , Mistresse , Allow you ne'r a casement to the streete , Feare of engendering by the eyes , with gallants , Forbid you paper , pen and inke , like Rats-bane . Search your halfe pint of muscatell , lest a letter Be suncke i' the pot : and hold your new-laid egge Against the fire , lest any charme be writ there ? Will you make benefit of truth , deare Mistresse , If I doe tell it you : I do 't not often ? I am set ouer you , imploy'd , indeed , To watch your steps , your lookes , your very breathings , And to report them to him . Now , if you Will be a true , right , delicate sweete Mistresse , Why , wee will make a Cokes of this Wise Master , We will , my Mistresse , an absolute fine Cokes , And mock , to ayre , all the deepe diligences Of such a solemne , and effectuall Asse , An Asse to so good purpose , as wee 'll vse him . I will contriue it so , that you shall goe To Playes , to Masques , to Meetings , and to Feasts . For , why is all this Rigging , and fine Tackle , Mistris , If you neat handsome vessells , of good sayle , Put not forth euer , and anon , with your nets Abroad into the world . It is your fishing . There , you shal choose your friends , your seruants , Lady , Your squires of honour ; I 'le conuey your letters , Fetch answers , doe you all the offices , That can belong to your bloud , and beauty . And , For the variety , at my times , although I am not in due symmetrie , the man Of that proportion ; or in rule Of physicke , of the iust complexion ; Or of that truth of Picardill , in clothes , To boast a soueraignty o're Ladies : yet I know , to do my turnes , sweet Mistresse . Come , kisse — Mrs. FI. How now ! PVG. Deare delicate Mist . I am your slaue , Your little worme , that loues you : your fine Monkey ; Your Dogge , your Iacke , your Pug , that longs to be Stil'd , o' your pleasures . Mrs. FIT. Heare you all this ? Sir , Pray you , Shee thinkes her husband watches . Come from your standing , doe , a little , spare Your selfe , Sir , from your watch , t' applaud your Squire , That so well followes your instructions !
ACT. II. SCENE . III. FITZ-DOTTRELL . Mistresse FITZ-DOTTREL . PVG. HOw now , sweet heart ? what 's the matter ? Mrs. FI. Good ! You are a stranger to the plot ! you set not Your saucy Diuell , here , to tempt your wife , With all the insolent vnciuill language , Or action , he could vent ? FIT. Did you so , Diuell ? Mrs. FIT. Not you ? you were not planted i' your hole to heare him , Vpo' the stayres ? or here , behinde the hangings ? I doe not know your qualities ? he durst doe it , And you not giue directions ? FIT. You shall see , wife , Her husband goes out , and enters presently with a cudgell vpon him , Whether he durst , or no : and what it was , I did direct . PVG. Sweet Mistresse , are you mad ? FIT. You most mere Rogue ! you open manifest Villaine ! You Feind apparant you ! you declar'd Hel-hound ! PVG. Good Sr. FIT. Good Knaue good Rascal , and good Traitor . Now , I doe finde you parcel - Diuell , indeed . Vpo' the point of trust ? I' your first charge ? The very day o' your probation ? To tempt your Mistresse ? You doe see , good wedlocke , How I directed him . Mrs. FIT. Why , where Sr , were you ? FIT. Nay , there is one blow more , for exercise : After a pause . He strikes him againe I told you , I should doe it . PVG. Would you had done , Sir . FIT. O wife , the rarest man ! yet there 's another To put you in mind o' the last . such a braue man , wife ! Within , he has his proiects , and do's vent 'hem , and againe . The gallantest ! where you tentiginous ? ha ? Would you be acting of the Incubus ? Did her silks rustling moue you ? PVG. Gentle Sir . FIT. Out of my sight . If thy name were not Diuell , Thou should'st not stay a minute with me . In , Goe , yet stay : yet goe too . I am resolu'd , What I will doe : and you shall know 't afore-hand . Soone as the Gentleman is gone , doe you heare ? I 'll helpe your lisping . Wife , such a man , wife ! Diuell goes out . He has such plots ! He will make mee a Duke ! No lesse , by heauen ! six Mares , to your coach , wife ! That 's your proportion ! And your coach-man bald ! Because he shall be bare , inough . Doe not you laugh , We are looking for a place , and all , i' the map What to be of . Haue faith , be not an Infidell . You know , I am not easie to be gull'd . I sweare , when I haue my millions , else , I 'll make Another Dutchesse ; if you ha' not faith . Mrs. FI. You 'll ha' too much , I feare , in these false spirits , FIT. Spirits ? O , no such thing ! wife ! wit , mere wit ! This man defies the Diuell , and all his works ! He dos't by Ingine , and deuises , hee ! He has his winged ploughes , that goe with sailes , Will plough you forty acres , at once ! and mills , Will spout you water , ten miles off ! All Crowland Is ours , wife ; and the fens , from vs , in Norfolke , To the vtmost bound of Lincoln-shire ! we haue view'd it , And measur'd it within all ; by the scale ! The richest tract of land , Loue , i' the kingdome ! There will be made seuenteene , or eighteene millions ; Or more , as 't may be handled ! wherefore , thinke , Sweet heart , if th' hast a fancy to one place , More then another , to be Dutchesse of ; Now , name it : I will ha 't , what ere it cost , ( If 't will be had for money ) either here , Or' n France , or Italy . Mrs. FI. You ha' strange phantasies !
ACT. II. SCENE . IV. MERE-CRAFT . FITZ-DOTTRELL . INGINE. WHere are you , Sir ? FIT. I see thou hast no talent This way , wife . Vp to thy gallery ; doe , Chuck , Leaue vs to talke of it , who vnderstand it . MER. I thinke we ha' found a place to fit you , now , Sir . Gloc'ster . FIT. O , no , I 'll none ! MER. Why , Sr ? FIT. T is fatall . MER: That you say right in . Spenser , I thinke , the younger , Had his last honour thence . But , he was but Earle . FIT I know not that , Sir . But Thomas of Woodstocke , I 'm sure , was Duke , and he was made away , At Calice ; as Duke Humphrey was at Bury : And Richard the third , you know what end he came too . MER. By m'faith you are cunning i' the Chronicle , Sir . FIT. No , I confesse I ha 't from the Play-bookes , And thinke they' are more authentique . ING. That 's sure , Sir . MER. He whispers him of a place . What say you ( to this then ) FIT. No , a noble house . Pretends to that . I will doe no man wrong . MER. Then take one proposition more , and heare it As past exception . FIT. What 's that ? MER. To be Duke of those lands , you shall recouer : take Your title , thence , Sir , Duke of the Drown'd-lands , Or Drown'd-land . FIT. Ha ? that last has a good sound ! I like it well . The Duke of Drown'd-land ? ING. Yes ; It goes like Groen-land , Sir , if you marke it . MER: I , And drawing thus your honour from the worke , You make the reputation of that , greater ; And stay 't the longer i' your name . FIT. 'T is true . Drown'd-lands will liue in Drown'd-land ! MER. Yes , when you Ha' no foote left ; as that must be , Sir , one day . And , though it tarry in your heyres , some forty , Fifty descents , the longer liuer , at last , yet , Must thrust 'hem out on 't : if no quirk in law , Or odde Vice o' their owne not do ' it first . Wee see those changes , daily : the faire lands , That were the Clyents , are the Lawyers , now : And those rich Mannors , there , of good man Taylors , Had once more wood vpon 'hem , then the yard , By which th' were measur'd out for the last purchase . Nature hath these vicissitudes . Shee makes No man a state of perpetuety , Sir . FIT. Yo' are i' the right . Let 's in then , and conclude . Hee spies Diuell . I my sight , againe ? I 'll talke with you , anon .
ACT. II. SCENE . V. PVG. SVre hee will geld mee , if I stay : or worse , Pluck out my tongue , one o' the two . This Foole , There is no trusting of him : and to quit him , Were a contempt against my Chiefe , past pardon . It was a shrewd disheartning this , at first ! Who would ha' thought a woman so well harness'd , Or rather well-caparison'd , indeed , That weares such petticoates , and lace to her smocks , Broad seaming laces ( as I see 'hem hang there ) And garters which are lost , if shee can shew 'hem , Could ha' done this ? Hell ! why is shee so braue ? It cannot be to please Duke Dottrel , sure , Nor the dull pictures , in her gallery , Nor her owne deare reflection , in her glasse ; Yet that may be : I haue knowne many of 'hem , Beginne their pleasure , but none end it , there : ( That I consider , as I goe a long with it ) They may , for want of better company , Or that they thinke the better , spend an houre ; Two , three , or foure , discoursing with their shaddow : But sure they haue a farther speculation . No woman drest with so much care , and study , Doth dresse her selfe in vaine . I 'll vexe this probleme , A little more , before I leaue it , sure .
ACT. IJ. SCENE . VI. WITTIPOL . MANLY. Mistresse FITZ-DOTTREL . PVG. THis was a fortune , happy aboue thought , That this should proue thy chamber ; which I fear'd Would be my greatest trouble ! this must be The very window , and that the roome . MAN . It is . I now remember , I haue often seene there A woman , but I neuer mark'd her much . WIT. Where was your soule , friend ? MAN . Faith , but now , and then , Awake vnto those obiects . WIT. You pretend so . Let mee not liue , if I am not in loue More with her wit , for this direction , now , Then with her forme , though I ha' prais'd that prettily , Since I saw her , and you , to day . Read those . Hee giues him a paper , wherein is the copy of a Song . They 'll goe vnto the ayre you loue so well . Try 'hem vnto the note , may be the musique Will call her sooner ; light , shee 's here ! Sing quickly . Mrs. FIT. Either he vnderstood him not : or else , The fellow was not faithfull in deliuery , Of what I bad . And , I am iustly pay'd , That might haue made my profit of his seruice , But , by mis-taking , haue drawne on his enuy , And done the worse defeate vpon my selfe . Manly sings , Pug enters perceiues it . How ! Musique ? then he may be there : and is sure . PVG. O! Is it so ? Is there the enter-view ? Haue I drawne to you , at last , my cunning Lady ? The Diuell is an Asse ! fool'd off ! and beaten ! Nay , made an instrument ! and could not sent it ! Well , since yo' haue showne the malice of a woman , No lesse then her true wit , and learning , Mistresse , I 'll try , if little Pug haue the malignity To recompence it , and so saue his danger . 'T is not the paine , but the discredite of it , The Diuell should not keepe a body intire . WIT. Away , fall backe , she comes . MAN . I 'll leaue you , Sir , The Master of my chamber . I haue businesse . WIT. Mrs ! Mrs. FI. You make me paint , Sr. WIT. The' are faire colours , Lady , and naturall ! I did receiue Some commands from you , lately , gentle Lady , This Scene is acted at two windo's , as out of two contiguous buildings , But so perplex'd , and wrap'd in the deliuery , As I may feare t' haue mis-interpreted : But must make suit still , to be neere your grace . Mrs. FI. Who is there with you , Sr ? WIT. None , but my selfe . It falls out , Lady , to be a deare friends lodging . Wherein there 's some conspiracy of fortune With your poore seruants blest affections . Mrs. FI. Who was it sung ? WIT. He , Lady , but hee 's gone , Vpon my entreaty of him , seeing you Approach the window . Neither need you doubt him , If he were here . He is too much a gentleman . Mrs. FI. Sir , if you iudge me by this simple action , And by the outward habite , and complexion Of easinesse , it hath , to your designe ; You may with Iustice , say , I am a woman : And a strange woman . But when you shall please , To bring but that concurrence of my fortune , To memory , which to day your selfe did vrge : It may beget some fauour like excuse , Though none like reason . WIT. No , my tune-full Mistresse ? Then , surely , Loue hath none ; nor Beauty any ; Nor Nature violenced , in both these : With all whose gentle tongues you speake , at once . I thought I had inough remou'd , already , That scruple from your brest , and left yo' all reason ; When , through my mornings perspectiue I shewd you A man so aboue excuse , as he is the cause , Why any thing is to be done vpon him : And nothing call'd an iniury , mis-plac'd . I' rather , now had hope , to shew you how Loue By his accesses , growes more naturall : And , what was done , this morning , with such force Was but deuis'd to serue the present , then . That since Loue hath the honour to approach These sister-swelling brests ; and touch this soft , He growes more familiar in his Court-ship . And rosie hand ; hee hath the skill to draw Their Nectar forth , with kissing ; and could make More wanton salts , from this braue promontory , playes with her paps , kisseth her hands , &c. Downe to this valley , then the nimble Roe ; Could play the hopping Sparrow , 'bout these nets ; And sporting Squirell in these crisped groues ; Bury himselfe in euery Silke-wormes kell , Is here vnrauell'd ; runne into the snare , Which euery hayre is , cast into a curle , To catch a Cupid flying : Bath himselfe In milke , and roses , here , and dry him , there ; Warme his cold hands , to play with this smooth , round , And well torn'd chin , as with the Billyard ball ; Rowle on these lips , the banks of loue , and there At once both plant , and gather kisses . Lady , Shall I , with what I haue made to day here , call All sense to wonder , and all faith to signe The mysteries reuealed in your forme ? And will Loue pardon mee the blasphemy I vtter'd , when I said , a glasse could speake This beauty , or that fooles had power to iudge it ? Doe but looke , on her eyes ! They doe light — All that Loue 's world comprizeth ! Doe but looke on her hayre ! it is bright , As Loue 's starre , when it riseth ! Doe but marke , her fore-head's smoother , Then words that sooth her ! And from her arched browes , such a grace Sheds it selfe through the face ; As alone , there triumphs to the life , All the gaine , all the good , of the elements strife ! Haue you seene but a bright Lilly grow , Before rude hands haue touch'd it ? Haue you mark'd but the fall of the Snow , Before the soyle hath smuch'd it ? Haue you felt the wooll o' the Beuer ? Or Swans downe , euer ? Or , haue smelt o' the bud o' the Bryer ? Or the Nard i' the fire ? Or , haue tasted the bag o' the Bee ? O , so white ! O , so soft ! O , so sweet is shee !
ACT. II. SCENE . VII . FITZ-DOTTRELL . WITTIPOL . PVG. Her husband appeares at her back . IS shee so , Sir ? and , I will keepe her so . If I know how , or can : that wit of man Will doe 't , I 'll goe no farther . At this windo ' She shall no more be buz'd at . Take your leaue on 't . If you be sweet meates , wedlock , or sweet flesh , All 's one : I doe not loue this hum about you . A flye-blowne wife is not so proper , In : Hee speakes out of his wiues window . For you , Sr , looke to heare from mee . WIT. So , I doe , Sir . FIT. No , but in other termes . There 's no man offers This to my wife , but paies for 't . WIT. That haue I , Sir . FIT. Nay , then , I tell you , you are . WIT. What am I , Sir ? FIT. Why , that I 'll thinke on , when I ha' cut your throat . WIT. Goe , you are an Asse . FIT. I am resolu'd on 't , Sir . WIT. I thinke you are . FIT. To call you to a reckoning . WIT. Away , you brokers blocke , you property . FIT. S'light , if you strike me , I 'll strike your Mistresse , Hee strikes his wife . WIT. O! I could shoote mine eyes at him , for that , now ; Or leaue my teeth in him , were they cuckolds bane , Inough to kill him . What prodigious , Blinde , and most wicked change of fortune 's this ? I ha' no ayre of patience : all my vaines Swell , and my sinewes start at iniquity of it . I shall breake , breake . PVG. This for the malice of it , The Diuell speakes below . And my reuenge may passe ! But , now , my conscience Tells mee , I haue profited the cause of Hell But little , in the breaking-off their loues . Which , if some other act of mine repaire not , I shall heare ill of in my accompt . FIT. O , Bird ! Could you do this ? 'gainst me ? and at this time , now ? Fitz-dottrel enters with his wife as come downe . When I was so imploy'd , wholly for you , Drown'd i' my care ( more , then the land , I sweare , I' haue hope to win ) to make you peere-lesse ? studying , For footemen for you , fine pac'd huishers , pages , To serue you o' the knee ; with what Knights wife , To beare your traine , and sit with your foure women In councell , and receiue intelligences , From forraigne parts , to dresse you at all pieces ! Y' haue ( a' most ) turn'd my good affection , to you ; Sowr'd my sweet thoughts ; all my pure purposes : I could now finde ( i' my very heart ) to make Another , Lady Dutchesse ; and depose you . Well , goe your waies in . Diuell , you haue redeem'd all . I doe forgiue you . And I 'll doe you good .
ACT. II. SCENE . VIIJ. MERE-CRAFT . FITZ-DOTTREL . INGINE. TRAINES . WHy ha you these excursions ? where ha' you beene , Sir ? FIT. Where I ha' beene vex'd a little , with a toy ! MER. O Sir ! no toyes must trouble your graue head , Now it is growing to be great . You must Be aboue all those things . FIT. Nay , nay , so I will . MER. Now you are to'ard the Lord , you must put off The man , Sir . ING. He saies true . MER. You must do nothing As you ha' done it heretofore ; not know , Or salute any man . ING. That was your bed-fellow , The other moneth . MER. The other moneth ? the weeke . Thou dost not know the priuiledges , Ingine , Follow that Title ; nor how swift : To day , When he has put on his Lords face once , then — FIT. Sir , for these things I shall doe well enough , There is no feare of me . But then , my wife is Such an vntoward thing ! shee 'll neuer learne How to comport with it ! I am out of all Conceipt , on her behalfe . MER. Best haue her taught , Sir . FIT. Where ? Are there any Schooles for Ladies ? Is there An Academy for women ? I doe know , For men , there was : I learn'd in it , my selfe , Ingine whispers Merecraft , Merecraft turnes to Fitz-dottrel . To make my legges , and doe my postures . ING. Sir . Doe you remember the conceipt you had — O' the Spanish gowne , at home ? MER. Ha! I doe thanke thee , With all my heart , deare Ingine . Sir , there is A certaine Lady , here about the Towne , An English widdow , who hath lately trauell'd , But shee 's call'd the Spaniard ; cause she came Latest from thence : and keepes the Spanish habit . Such a rare woman ! all our women heere , That are of spirit , and fashion flocke , vnto her , As to their President ; their Law ; their Canon ; More then they euer did , to Oracle-Foreman . Such rare receipts shee has , Sir , for the face ; Such oyles ; such tinctures ; such pomatumn's ; Such perfumes ; med'cines ; quintessences , &c. And such a Mistresse of behauiour ; She knowes , from the Dukes daughter , to the Doxey , What is their due iust : and no more ! FIT. O Sir ! You please me i' this , more then mine owne greatnesse . Where is shee ? Let vs haue her . MER. By your patience , We must vse meanes ; cast how to be acquainted — FIT. Good , Sr , about it . MER. We must think how , first . FIT. O! I doe not loue to tarry for a thing , When I haue a mind to 't . You doe not know me . If you doe offer it . MER. Your wife must send Some pretty token to her , with a complement , And pray to be receiu'd in her good graces , All the great Ladies do 't , FIT. She shall , she shall , What were it best to be ? MER. Some little toy , I would not haue it any great matter , Sir : A Diamant ring , of forty or fifty pound , Would doe it handsomely : and be a gift Fit for your wife to send , and her to take . FIT. I 'll goe , and tell my wife on 't , streight . Fitz-dottrel goes out . MER. Why this Is well ! The clothes we haue now : But , where 's this Lady ? If we could get a witty boy , now , Ingine ; That were an excellent cracke . I could instruct him , To the true height . For any thing takes this dottrel . ING. Why , Sir your best will be one o' the players ! MER. No , there 's no trusting them . They 'll talke on 't , And tell their Poets . ING. What if they doe ? the iest will brooke the Stage . But , there be some of 'hem Are very honest Lads . There 's Dicke Robinson A very pretty fellow , and comes often To a Gentlemans chamber , a friends of mine . We had The merriest supper of it there , one night , The Gentlemans Land-lady invited him To 'a Gossips feast , Now , he Sir brought Dick Robinson , Drest like a Lawyers wife , amongst 'hem all ; ( I lent him cloathes ) but , to see him behaue it ; And lay the law ; and carue ; and drinke vnto 'hem ; And then talke baudy : and send frolicks ! o ! It would haue burst your buttons , or not left you A seame . MER. They say hee 's an ingenious youth ! ING. O Sir ! and dresses himselfe , the best ! beyond Forty o' your very Ladies ! did you ne'r see him ? MER. No , I do seldome see those toyes . But thinke you , That we may haue him ? ING. Sir , the young Gentleman I tell you of , can command him . Shall I attempt it ? Enters againe . MER. Yes , doe it . FIT. S'light , I cannot get my wife To part with a ring , on any termes : and yet , The sollen Monkey has two . MER. It were 'gainst reason , That you should vrge it ; Sir , send to a Gold-smith , Let not her lose by 't . FIT. How do's she lose by ' t ? Is 't not for her ? MER. Make it your owne bounty , It will ha' the better successe ; what is a matter Of fifty pound to you , Sr. FIT. I' haue but a hundred Pieces , to shew here ; that I would not breake — MER. You shall ha' credit , Sir . I 'll send a ticket Vnto my Gold-smith . Heer , my man comes too , Traines enters . To carry it fitly . How now , Traines ? What birds ? TRA. Your Cousin Euer-ill met me , and has beat mee , Because I would not tell him where you were : I think he has dogd me to the house too . FIT. Well — You shall goe out at the back-doore , then , Traines . You must get Guilt-head hither , by some meanes : TRA. 'T is impossible ! FIT. Tell him , we haue venison , I 'll g' him a piece , and send his wife a Phesant . TRA. A Forrest moues not , till that forty pound , Yo' had of him , last , be pai'd . He keepes more stirre , For that same petty summe , then for your bond Of sixe ; and Statute of eight hundred ! FIT. Tell him Wee 'll hedge in that . Cry vp Fitz-dottrell to him , Double his price : Make him a man of mettall . TRA. That will not need , his bond is currant inough .
ACT. III. SCENE . I. GVILT-HEAD . PLVTARCHVS . ALl this is to make you a Gentleman : I 'll haue you learne , Sonne . Wherefore haue I plac'd you With Sr. Poul Either-side , but to haue so much Law To keepe your owne ? Besides , he is a Iustice , Here i' the Towne ; and dwelling , Sonne , with him , You shal learne that in a yeere , shall be worth twenty Of hauing stay'd you at Oxford , or at Cambridge , Or sending you to the Innes of Court , or France . I am call'd for now in haste , by Master Meere-craft To trust Master Fitz-dottrel , a good man : I' haue inquir'd him , eighteene hundred a yeere , ( His name is currant ) for a diamant ring Of forty , shall not be worth thirty ( that 's gain'd ) And this is to make you a Gentleman ! PLV. O , but good father , you trust too much ! GVI. Boy , boy , We liue , by finding fooles out , to be trusted . Our shop-bookes are our pastures , our corn-grounds , We lay 'hem op'n , for them to come into : And when wee haue 'hem there , wee driue 'hem vp In t' one of our two Pounds , the Compters , streight , And this is to make you a Gentleman ! Wee Citizens neuer trust , but wee doe coozen : For , if our debtors pay , wee coozen them ; And if they doe not , then we coozen our selues . But that 's a hazard euery one must runne , That hopes to make his Sonne a Gentleman ! PLV. I doe not wish to be one , truely , Father . In a descent , or two , wee come to be Iust ' i their state , fit to be coozend , like 'hem . And I had rather ha' tarryed i' your trade : For , since the Gentry scorne the Citty so much , Me thinkes we should in time , holding together , And matching in our owne tribes , as they say , Haue got an Act of Common Councell , for it , That we might coozen them out of rerum natura . GVI. I , if we had an Act first to forbid The marrying of our wealthy heyres vnto 'hem : And daughters , with such lauish portions . That confounds all . PLV. And makes a Mungril breed , Father . And when they haue your money , then they laugh at you : Or kick you downe the stayres . I cannot abide 'hem . I would faine haue 'hem coozen'd , but not trusted .
ACT. III. SCENE . II. MERE-CRAFT . GVILT-HEAD . FITZ-DOTTRELL . PLVTARCHVS . O , is he come ! I knew he would not faile me . Welcome , good Guilt-head , I must ha' you doe A noble Gentleman , a courtesie , here : In a mere toy ( some pretty Ring , or Iewell ) Of fifty , or threescore pound ( Make it a hundred , And hedge in the last forty , that I owe you , And your owne price for the Ring ) He 's a good man , Sr , And you may hap' see him a great one ! Hee , Is likely to bestow hundreds , and thousands , Wi' you ; if you can humour him . A great prince He will be shortly . What doe you say ? GVI. In truth , Sir I cannot . 'T has beene a long vacation with vs , FIT. Of what , I pray thee ? of wit ? or honesty ? Those are your Citizens long vacations . PLV. Good Father do not trust 'hem , MER. Nay , Thom. Guilt-head . Hee will not buy a courtesie and begge it : Hee 'll rather pay , then pray . If you doe for him , You must doe cheerefully . His credit , Sir , Is not yet prostitute ! Who 's this ? thy sonne ? A pretty youth , what 's his name ? PLV. Plutarchus , Sir . MER. Plutarchus ! How came that about ? GVI. That yeere Sr , That I begot him , I bought Plutarch's liues , And fell s ' in loue with the booke , as I call'd my sonne By ' his name ; In hope he should be like him : And write the liues of our great men ! MER. I' the City ? And you do breed him , there ? GVI. His minde , Sir , lies Much to that way . MER. Why , then , he is i' the right way . GVI. But , now , I had rather get him a good wife , And plant him i' the countrey ; there to vse The blessing I shall leaue him : MER. Out vpon ' t ! And lose the laudable meanes , thou hast at home , heere , T' aduance , and make him a young Alderman ? Buy him a Captaines place , for shame ; and let him Into the world , early , and with his plume , And Scarfes , march through Cheapside , or along Cornehill , And by the vertue ' of those , draw downe a wife There from a windo ' , worth ten thousand pound ! Get him the posture booke , and 's leaden men , To set vpon a table , 'gainst his Mistresse Chance to come by , that hee may draw her in , And shew her Finsbury battells . GVI. I haue plac'd him With Iustice Eytherside , to get so much law — MER. As thou hast conscience . Come , come , thou dost wrong Pretty Plutarchus , who had not his name , For nothing : but was borne to traine the youth Of London , in the military truth — That way his Genius lies . My Cousin Euerill !
ACT. III. SCENE . IIJ. EVER-ILL . PLVTARCHVS . GVILT-HEAD . MERE-CRAFT . FITZDOTTRELL . O , are you heere , Sir ? 'pray you let vs whisper . PLV. Father , deare Father , trust him if you loue mee . GVI. Why , I doe meane it , boy ; but , what I doe , Must not come easily from mee : Wee must deale With Courtiers , boy , as Courtiers deale with vs. If I haue a Businesse there , with any of them , Why , I must wait , I 'am sure on 't , Son : and though My Lord dispatch me , yet his worshipfull man — Will keepe me for his sport , a moneth , or two , To shew mee with my fellow Cittizens . I must make his traine long , and full , one quarter ; And helpe the spectacle of his greatnesse . There , Nothing is done at once , but iniuries , boy : And they come head-long ! all their good turnes moue not , Or very slowly PLV. Yet sweet father , trust him . GVI. Well , I will thinke . EV. Come , you must do 't , Sir . I 'am vndone else , and your Lady Tayle-bush Has sent for mee to dinner , and my cloaths Are all at pawne . I had sent out this morning , Before I heard you were come to towne , some twenty Of my epistles , and no one returne — MER. Mere-craft tells him of his faults . Why , I ha' told you o' this . This comes of wearing Scarlet , gold lace , and cut-works ! your fine gartring ! With your blowne roses , Cousin ! and your eating Phesant , and Godwit , here in London ! haunting The Globes , and Mermaides ! wedging in with Lords , Still at the table ! and affecting lechery , In veluet ! where could you ha' contented your selfe With cheese , salt-butter , and a pickled hering , I' the Low-countries ; there worne cloth , and fustian ! Beene satisfied with a leape o' your Host's daughter , In garrison , a wench of a stoter ! or , Your Sutlers wife , i' the leaguer , of two blanks ! You neuer , then , had runne vpon this flat , To write your letters missiue , and send out Your priuy seales , that thus haue frighted off All your acquintance ; that they shun you at distance , Worse , then you do the Bailies ! EV. Pox vpon you . Hee repines , I come not to you for counsell , I lacke money . MER. You doe not thinke , what you owe me already ? EV. I ? They owe you , that meane to pay you . I 'll besworne , I neuer meant it . Come , you will proiect , and threatens him . I shall vndoe your practice , for this moneth else : You know mee . MER. I , yo' are a right sweet nature ! EV. Well , that 's all one ! MER. You 'll leaue this Empire , one day ? You will not euer haue this tribute payd , Your scepter o' the sword ? EV. Tye vp your wit , Doe , and prouoke me not — MER. Will you , Sir , helpe , To what I shall prouoke another for you ? EV. I cannot tell ; try me : I thinke I am not So vtterly , of an ore vn-to-be-melted , They ioyne . But I can doe my selfe good , on occasions . MER. Strike in then , for your part . Mr. Fitz-dottrel If I transgresse in point of manners , afford mee Your best construction ; I must beg my freedome Mere-craft pretends businesse . From your affayres , this day . FIT. How , Sr. MER. It is In succour of this Gentlemans occasions , My kins-man — FIT. You 'll not do me that affront , Sr. MER. I am sory you should so interpret it , But , Sir , it stands vpon his being inuested In a new office , hee has stood for , long : Mere-craft describes the office of Dependancy . Master of the Dependances ! A place Or my proiection too , Sir , and hath met Much opposition ; but the State , now , see 's That great necessity of it , as after all Their writing , and their speaking , against Duells , They haue erected it . His booke is drawne — For , since , there will be differences , daily , 'Twixt Gentlemen ; and that the roaring manner Is growne offensiue ; that those few , we call The ciuill men o' the sword , abhorre the vapours ; They shall refer now , hither , for their processe ; And such as trespasse 'gainst the rule of Court , Are to be fin'd — FIT. In troth , a pretty place ! MER. A kinde of arbitrary Court 't will be , Sir . FIT. I shall haue matter for it , I beleeue , Ere it be long : I had a distast . MER. But now , Sir , My learned councell , they must haue a feeling , They 'll part , Sir , with no bookes , without the hand-gout Be oyld , and I must furnish . If 't be money , To me streight . I am Mine , Mint and Exchequer , To supply all . What is 't ? a hundred pound ? EVE . No , th' Harpey , now , stands on a hundred pieces . MER. Why , he must haue 'hem , if he will . To morrow , Sir , Will equally serue your occasion's , — And therefore , let me obtaine , that you will yeeld To timing a poore Gentlemans distresses , In termes of hazard . — FIT. By no meanes ! MER. I must Get him this money , and will . — FIT. Sir , I protest , I 'd rather stand engag'd for it my selfe : Then you should leaue mee . MER. O good Sr. do you thinke So coursely of our manners , that we would , For any need of ours , be prest to take it : Though you be pleas'd to offer it . FIT. Why , by heauen , I meane it ! MER. I can neuer beleeue lesse . But wee , Sir , must preserue our dignity , Hee offers to be gone . As you doe publish yours . By your faire leaue , Sir . FIT. As I am a Gentleman , if you doe offer To leaue mee now , or if you doe refuse mee , I will not thinke you loue mee . MER. Sir , I honour you . And with iust reason , for these noble notes , Of the nobility , you pretend too ! But , Sir — I would know , why ? a motiue ( he a stranger ) You should doe this ? ( EVE . You 'll mar all with your finenesse ) FIT. Why , that 's all one , if 't were , Sir , but my fancy . But I haue a Businesse , that perhaps I 'd haue Brought to his office . MER. O , Sir ! I haue done , then ; If hee can be made profitable , to you . FIT. Yes , and it shall be one of my ambitions To haue it the first Businesse ? May I not ? EVE . So you doe meane to make 't , a perfect Businesse . FIT. Nay , I 'll doe that , assure you : shew me once . MER. Sr , it concernes , the first be a perfect Businesse , For his owne honour ! EVE . I , and th' reputation Too , of my place . FIT. Why , why doe I take this course , else ? I am not altogether , an Asse , good Gentlemen , Wherefore should I consult you ? doe you thinke ? To make a song on 't ? How 's your manner ? tell vs. MER. Doe , satisfie him : giue him the whole course . EVE . First , by request , or otherwise , you offer Your Businesse to the Court : wherein you craue : The iudgement of the Master and the Assistants . FIT. Well , that 's done , now , what doe you vpon it ? EVE . We streight Sr , haue recourse to the spring-head ; Visit the ground ; and , so disclose the nature : If it will carry , or no. If wee doe finde , By our proportions it is like to proue A sullen , and blacke Bus'nesse That it be Incorrigible ; and out of , treaty ; then , We file it , a Dependance ! FIT. So 't is fil'd . What followes ? I doe loue the order of these things . EVE . We then aduise the party , if he be A man of meanes , and hauings , that forth-with , He settle his estate : if not , at least That he pretend it . For , by that , the world Takes notice , that it now is a Dependance . And this we call , Sir , Publication . FIT. Very sufficient ! After Publication , now ? EVE . Then we grant out our Processe , which is diuers ; Eyther by Chartell , Sir , or ore-tenus , Wherein the Challenger , and Challengee Or ( with your Spaniard ) your Prouocador , And Prouocado , haue their seuerall courses — FIT. I haue enough on 't ! for an hundred pieces ? Yes , for two hundred , vnder-write me , doe . Your man will take my bond ? MER. That he will , sure , But , these same Citizens , they are such sharks ! He whispers Fitz-dottrell aside . There 's an old debt of forty , I ga' my word For one is runne away , to the Bermudas , And he will hooke in that , or he wi' not doe . FIT. Why , let him . That and the ring , and a hundred pieces , Will all but make two hundred ? MER. No , no more , Sir . And then Guilt-head What ready Arithmetique you haue ? doe you heare ? A pretty mornings worke for you , this ? Do it , You shall ha' twenty pound on 't . GVI. Twenty pieces ? ( PLV. Good Father , do 't ) MER. You will hooke still ? well , Shew vs your ring . You could not ha' done this , now With gentlenesse , at first , wee might ha' thank'd you ? But groane , and ha' you courtesies come from you Like a hard stoole , and stinke ? A man may draw Your teeth out easier , then your money ? Come , Hee pulls Plutarchus by the lips . Were little Guilt-head heere , no better a nature , I should ne'r loue him , that could pull his lips off , now ! Was not thy mother a Gentlewoman ? PLV. Yes , Sir . MER. And went to the Court at Christmas , and St. Georges-tide ? And lent the Lords-men , chaines ? PLV. Of gold , and pearle , Sr. MER. I knew , thou must take , after some body ! Thou could'st not be else . This was no shop-looke ! I 'll ha' thee Captaine Guilt-head , and march vp , And take in Pimlico , , and kill the bush , At euery tauerne ! Thou shalt haue a wife , If smocks will mount , boy . How now ? you ha' there now Some Bristo-stone , He turnes to old Guilt-head . or Cornish counterfeit You 'ld put vpon vs. GVI. No , Sir , I assure you : Looke on his luster ! hee will speake himselfe ! I 'le gi' you leaue to put him i' the Mill , H' is no great , large stone , but a true Paragon , H' has all his corners , view him well . MER. H' is yellow . GVI. Vpo' my faith , Sr , o' the right black-water , And very deepe ! H' is set without a foyle , too . Here 's one o' the yellow-water , I 'll sell cheape . MER. And what do you valew this , at ? thirty pound ? GVI. No , Sir , he cost me forty , ere he was set . MER. Turnings , you meane ? I know your Equiuocks : You ' are growne the better Fathers of 'hem o' late . Well , where 't must goe , 't will be iudg'd , and , therefore , Looke you 't be right . You shall haue fifty pound for 't . Now to Fitz-dottrel . Not a deneer more ! And , because you would Haue things dispatch'd , Sir , I 'll goe presently , Inquire out this Lady . If you thinke good , Sir . Hauing an hundred pieces ready , you may Part with those , now , to serue my kinsmans turnes , That he may wait vpon you , anon , the freer ; And take 'hem when you ha' seal'd , a gaine , of Guilt-head . FIT. I care not if I do ! MER. And dispatch all , Together . FIT. There , th' are iust : a hundred pieces ! I' ha' told 'hem ouer , twice a day , these two moneths . Hee turnes 'hem out together . And Euerill and hee fall to share . MER. Well , go , and seale then , Sr , make your returne As speedy as you can . EVE . Come gi' mee . MER. Soft , Sir , EVE . Mary , and faire too , then . I 'll no delaying , Sir . MER. But , you will heare ? EV. Yes , when I haue my diuident . MER. There s forty pieces for you . EVE . What is this for ? MER. Your halfe . You know , that Guilt-head must ha' twenty . EVE . And what 's your ring there ? shall I ha' none o' that ? MER. O , that s to be giuen to a Lady ! EVE . Is' t so ? MER. By that good light , it is . EV. Come , gi' me Ten pieces more , then . MER. Why ? EV. For Guilt-head ? Sir , Do ' you thinke , I 'll ' low him any such share : MER. You must . EVE . Must I ? Doe you your musts , Sir , I 'll doe mine , You wi'not part with the whole , Sir ? Will you ? Goe too . Gi' me ten pieces ! MER. By what law , doe you this ? EVE . E'n Lyon-law , Sir , I must roare else . MER. Good ! EVE . Yo' haue heard , how th' Asse made his diuisions , wisely ? MER. And , I am he : I thanke you . EV. Much good do you , Sr. MER. I shall be rid o' this tyranny , one day ? EVE . Not , While you doe eate ; and lie , about the towne , here ; And coozen i' your bullions ; and I stand Your name of credit , and compound your businesse ; Adiourne your beatings euery terme ; and make New parties for your proiects . I haue , now , A pretty tasque , of it , to hold you in Wi' your Lady Tayle-bush : but the toy will be , How we shall both come off ? MER. Leaue you your doubting . And doe your portion , what 's assign'd you : I Neuer fail'd yet . EVE . With reference to your aydes ? You 'll still be vnthankfull . Where shall I meete you , anon ? You ha' some feate to doe alone , now , I see ; You wish me gone , well , I will finde you out , And bring you after to the audit . MER. S'light ! There 's Ingines share too , I had forgot ! This raigne Is too-too-vnsuportable ! I must Quit my selfe of this vassalage ! Ingine ! welcome .
ACT. IIJ. SCENE . IV. MERE-CRAFT . INGINE. WITTIPOL . HOw goes the cry ? ING. Excellent well ! MER. Wil 't do ? Where 's Robinson ? ING. Here is the Gentleman , Sir . Will undertake t' himselfe . I haue acquainted him , MER. Why did you so ? ING. Why , Robinson would ha' told him , You know . And hee 's a pleasant wit ! will hurt Nothing you purpose . Then , he ' is of opinion , That Robinson might want audacity , She being such a gallant . Now , hee has beene , In Spaine , and knowes the fashions there ; and can Discourse ; and being but mirth ( hee saies ) leaue much , To his care : MER. But he is too tall ! ING. For that , He excepts at his stature . He has the brauest deuice ! ( you 'll loue him for 't ) To say , he weares Cioppinos : and they doe so In Spaine . And Robinson 's as tall , as hee . MER. Is he so ? ING. Euery iot . MER. Nay , I had rather To trust a Gentleman with it , o' the two . ING. Pray you goe to him , then , Sir , and salute him . MER. Sir , my friend Ingine has acquainted you With a strange businesse , here . WIT. A merry one , Sir . The Duke of Drown'd-land , and his Dutchesse ? MER. Yes , Sir . Now , that the Coniurers ha' laid him by , I ha' made bold , to borrow him a while ; WIT. With purpose , yet , to put him out I hope To his best vse ? MER. Yes , Sir . WIT. For that small part , That I am trusted with , put off your care : I would not lose to doe it , for the mirth , Will follow of it ; and well , I haue a fancy . MER. Sir , that will make it well . WIT. You will report it so . Where must I haue my dressing ? ING. At my house , Sir . MER. You shall haue caution , Sir , for what he yeelds , To six pence . WIT. You shall pardon me . I will share , Sir , I' your sports , onely : nothing i' your purchase . But you must furnish mee with complements , To th' manner of Spaine ; my coach , my guarda duenn'as ; MER. Ingine 's your Pro'uedor . But , Sir , I must ( Now I' haue entred trust wi' you , thus farre ) Secure still i' your quality , acquaint you With somewhat , beyond this . The place , design'd To be the Scene , for this our mery matter , Because it must haue countenance of women , To draw discourse , and offer it , is here by , At the Lady Taile-bushes . WIT. I know her , Sir , And her Gentleman hutsher . MER. Mr Ambler ? WIT. Yes , Sir . MER. Sir , It shall be no shame to mee , to confesse To you , that wee poore Gentlemen , that want acres , Must for our needs , turne fooles vp , and plough Ladies Sometimes , to try what glebe they are : and this Is no vnfruitefull piece . She , and I now , Are on a proiect , for the fact , and venting Of a new kinde of fucus ( paint , for Ladies ) To serue the kingdome : wherein shee her selfe Hath trauell'd , specially , by way of seruice Vnto her sexe , and hopes to get the Monopoly , As the reward , of her inuention . WIT. What is her end , in this ? EV. Merely ambition , Sir , to grow great , and court it with the secret : Though shee pretend some other . For , she 's dealing , Already , vpon caution for the shares , And Mr. Ambler , is hee nam'd Examiner For the ingredients ; and the Register Of what is vented ; and shall keepe the Office . Now , if shee breake with you , of this ( as I Must make the leading thred to your acquaintance , That , how experience gotten i' your being Abroad , will helpe our businesse ) thinke of some Pretty additions , but to keepe her floting : It may be , shee will offer you a part , Any strange names of — WIT. Sr , I haue my ' instructions . Is it not high time to be making ready ? MER. Yes , Sir , ING. The foole 's in sight , Dottrel . MER. Away , then .
ACT. IIJ. SCENE . V. MERE-CRAFT . FITZ-DOTTREL . PVG. REturn'd so soone ? FIT. Yes , here 's the ring : I ha' seal'd . But there 's not so much gold in all the row , he saies — Till 't come fro' the Mint . 'T is tane vp for the gamesters . MER. There 's a shop-shift ! plague on 'hem . FIT. He do's sweare it . MER. He 'll sweare , and forsweare too , it is his trade , You should not haue left him . FIT. S'lid , I can goe backe , And beat him , yet . MER. No , now let him alone . FIT. I was so earnest , after the maine Businesse , To haue this ring , gone . MER. True , and 't is time . I' haue learn'd , Sir , sin ' you went , her Ladi-ship eats With the Lady Tail-bush , here , hard by . FIT. I' the lane here ? MER. Yes , if you had a seruant , now of presence , Well cloth'd , and of an aëry voluble tongue , Neither too bigge , or little for his mouth , That could deliuer your wiues complement ; To send along withall . FIT. I haue one Sir , A very handsome , gentleman-like-fellow , That I doe meane to make my Dutchesse Vsher — I entertain'd him , but this morning , too : I 'll call him to you . The worst of him , is his name ! MER. She 'll take no note of that , but of his message . Hee shewes him his Pug. FIT. Diuell ! How like you him , Sir . Pace , go a little . Let 's see you moue . MER. He 'll serue , Sr , giue it him : And let him goe along with mee , I 'll helpe To present him , and it . FIT. Looke , you doe sirah , Discharge this well , as you expect your place . Do ' you heare , goe on , come off with all your honours . Giues him instructions . I would faine see him , do it . MER. Trust him , with it ; FIT. Remember kissing of your hand , and answering With the French-time , in flexure of your body . I could now so instruct him — and for his words — MER. I 'll put them in his mouth . FIT. O , but I haue 'hem O' the very Academies . MER. Sir , you 'll haue vse for 'hem , Anon , your selfe , I warrant you : after dinner , When you are call'd . FIT. S'light , that 'll be iust play-time . He longs to see the play . It cannot be , I must not lose the play ! MER. Sir , but you must , if she appoint to sit . And , shee 's president . FIT. S'lid , it is the Diuell ! Because it is the Diuell . MER. And , 't were his Damme too , you must now apply Your selfe , Sir , to this , wholly ; or lose all . FIT. If I could but see a piece — MER. Sr. Neuer think on 't . FIT. Come but to one act , and I did not care — But to be seene to rise , and goe away , To vex the Players , and to punish their Poet — Keepe him in awe ! MER. But say , that he be one , Wi' not be aw'd ! but laugh at you . How then ? FIT. Then he shall pay for ' his dinner himselfe . MER. Perhaps , He would doe that twice , rather then thanke you . Come , get the Diuell out of your head , my Lord , ( I 'll call you so in priuate still ) and take Your Lord-ship i' your minde . You were , sweete Lord , He puts him in mind of his quarrell . In talke to bring a Businesse to the Office . FIT. Yes . MER. Why should not you , Sr , carry it o' your selfe , Before the Office be vp ? and shew the world , You had no need of any mans direction ; In point , Sir , of sufficiency . I speake Against a kinsman , but as one that tenders Your graces good . FIT. I thanke you ; to proceed — MER. To Publications : ha' your Deed drawne presently . And leaue a blancke to put in your Feoffees One , two , or more , as you see cause — FIT. I thank you Heartily , I doe thanke you . Not a word more , I pray you , as you loue mee . Let mee alone . He is angry with himselfe . That I could not thinke o' this , as well , as hee ? O , I could beat my infinite blocke-head — ! MER. Come , we must this way . PVG. How far is 't . MER. Hard by here Ouer the way . Now , to atchieue this ring , He thinkes how to coozen the bearer , of the ring . From this same fellow , that is to assure it ; Before hee giue it . Though my Spanish Lady , Be a young Gentleman of meanes , and scorne To share , as hee doth say , I doe not know How such a toy may tempt his Lady-ship : And therefore , I thinke best , it be assur'd . PVG. Sir , be the Ladies braue , wee goe vnto ? MER. O , yes . PVG. And shall I see 'hem , and speake to 'hem ? MER. Questions his man . What else ? ha' you your false-beard about you ? Traines . TRA. Yes , MER. And is this one of your double Cloakes ? TRA. The best of 'hem . MER. Be ready then . Sweet Pitfall !
ACT. IIJ. SCENE . VI. MERE-CRAFT . PITFALL . PVG. TRAINES . Offers to kisse . COme , I must busse — PIT . Away . MER. I 'll set thee vp again . Neuer feare that : canst thou get ne'r a bird ? No Thrushes hungry ? Stay , till cold weather come , I 'll help thee to an Onsell , or , a Field-fare . She runs in , in haste : he followes . Who 's within , with Madame ? PIT . I 'll tell you straight . MER. Please you stay here , a while Sir , I 'le goe in . PVG. I doe so long to haue a little venery , Pug leaps at Pitfall's comming in . While I am in this body ! I would tast Of euery sinne , a little , if it might be After the maner of man ! Sweet-heart ! PIT . What would you , Sr ? PVG. Nothing but fall in , to you , be your Black-bird , My pretty pit ( as the Gentleman said ) your Throstle : Lye tame , and taken with you ; here ' is gold ! To buy you so much new stuffes , from the shop , Traine's in his false cloak , brings a false message , and gets the ring . Mere-craft followes presently , and askes for it . Em. Train's as himselfe againe . As I may take the old vp — TRA. You must send , Sir . The Gentleman the ring . PVG. There ' t is . Nay looke , Will you be foolish , Pit , PIT . This is strange rudenesse . PVG. Deare Pit . PIT . I 'll call , I sweare . MER. Where are you , Sr ? Is your ring ready ? Goe with me . PVG. I sent it you . MER. Me ? When ? by whom ? PVG. A fellow here , e'en now , Came for it i' your name . MER. I sent none , sure . My meaning euer was , you should deliuer it , Your selfe : So was your Masters charge , you know . What fellow was it , doe you know him ? PVG. Here , But now , he had it . MER. Saw you any ? Traines ? TRA. Not I. PVG. The Gentleman saw him . MER. Enquire . PVG. I was so earnest vpon her , I mark'd not ! The Diuell confesseth himselfe coozen'd . My diuellish Chiefe has put mee here in flesh , To shame mee ! This dull body I am in , I perceiue nothing with ! I offer at nothing , That will succeed ! TRA. Sir , she saw none , she saies . PVG. Satan himselfe , has tane a shape t' abuse me . Mere-craft accuseth him of negligence . It could not be else ! MER. This is aboue strange ! That you should be so retchlesse . what 'll you do , Sir ? How will you answer this , when you are question'd ? PVG. Run from my flesh , if I could ; put off mankind ! This 's such a scorne ! and will be a new exercise , For my Arch-Duke ! Woe to the seuerall cudgells , Must suffer , on this backe ! Can you no succours ? Sir ? He asketh ayde . MER. Alas ! the vse of it is so present . PVG. I aske , Sir , credit for another , but till to morrow ? MER. There is not so much time , Sir . But how euer , The Lady is a noble Lady , and will ( To saue a Gentleman from check ) be intreated To say , she ha's receiu'd it . PVG. Do you thinke so ? Mere-craft promiseth faintly , yet comforts him . Will shee be won ? MER. No doubt , to such an office , It will be a Lady's brauery , and her pride . PVG. And not be knowne on 't after , vnto him ? MER. That were a treachery ! Vpon my word , Be confident . Returne vnto your master , My Lady President sits this after-noone , Ha's tane the ring , commends her seruices Vnto your Lady-Dutchesse . You may say She 's a ciuill Lady , and do's giue her All her respects , already : Bad you , tell her She liues , but to receiue her wish'd commandements , And haue the honor here to kisse her hands : For which shee 'll stay this houre yet . Hasten you Your Prince , away . PVG. And Sir , The Diuel is doubtfull . you will take care Th' excuse be perfect ? MER. You confesse your feares . Too much . PVG. The shame is more , I 'll quit you of either .
ACT. IIIJ. SCENE . I. TAILE-BVSH . MERE-CRAFT . MANLY. A Pox vpo' referring to Commissioners , I' had rather heare that it were past the seales : Your Courtiers moue so Snaile-like i' your Businesse . Wuld I had not begun wi' you . MER. We must moue , Madame , in order , by degrees : not iump . TAY. Why , there was Sr. Iohn Monie-man could iump A Businesse quickely . MER. True , hee had great friends , But , because some , sweete Madame , can leape ditches , Wee must not all shunne to goe ouer bridges . The harder parts , I make account are done : He flatters her . Now , 't is referr'd . You are infinitly bound Vnto the Ladies , they ha' so cri'd it vp ! TAY. Doe they like it then ? MER. They ha' sent the Spanish-Lady , To gratulate with you — TAY. I must send 'hem thankes And some remembrances . MER. That you must , and visit 'hem . Where 's Ambler ? TAY. Lost , to day , we cannot heare of him . MER. Not Madam ? TAY. No in good faith . They say he lay not At home , to night . And here has fall'n a Businesse Betweene your Cousin , and Master Manly , has Vnquieted vs all . MER. So I heare , Madame . Pray you how was it ? TAY. Troth , it but appeares Ill o' your Kinsmans part . You may haue heard , That Manly is a sutor to me , I doubt not : MER. I guess'd it , Madame . TAY. And it seemes , he trusted Your Cousin to let fall some faire reports Of him vnto mee . MER. Which he did ! TAY. So farre From it , as hee came in , and tooke him rayling Against him . MER. How ! And what said Manly to him ? TAY. Inough , I doe assure you : and with that scorne Of him , and the iniury , as I doe wonder How Euerill bore it ! But that guilt vndoe's Many mens valors MER. Here comes Manly . MAN . Madame , Manly offers to be gone . I 'll take my leaue — TAY. You sha' not goe , i' faith . I 'll ha' you stay , and see this Spanish miracle , Of our English Ladie . MAN . Let me pray your Ladiship , Lay your commands on me , some other time . TAY. Now , I protest : and I will haue all piec'd , And friends againe . MAN . It will be but ill solder'd ! TAY. You are too much affected with it . MAN . I cannot Madame , but thinke on 't for th' iniustice . TAY. Sir , His kinsman here is sorry . MER. Not I , Madam , Mere-craft denies him . I am no kin to him , wee but call Cousins , And if wee were , Sir , I haue no relation Vnto his crimes . MAN . You are not vrged with 'hem . I can accuse , Sir , none but mine owne iudgement , For though it were his crime , so to betray mee : I 'am sure , 't was more mine owne , at all to trust him . But he , therein , did vse but his old manners , And sauour strongly what hee was before . TAY. Come , he will change ! MAN . Faith , I must neuer think it . Nor were it reason in mee to expect That for my sake , hee should put off a nature Hee suck'd in with his milke . It may be Madam , Deceiuing trust , is all he has to trust to : If so , I shall be loath , that any hope Of mine , should bate him of his meanes . TAY. Yo' are sharp , Sir . This act may make him honest ! MAN If he were To be made honest , by an act of Parliament , I should not alter , i' my faith of him . TAY. Eyther-side ! She spies the Lady Eyther-side . Welcome , deare Either-side ! how hast thou done , good wench ? Thou hast beene a stranger ! I ha' not seene thee , this weeke .
ACT. IIIJ. SCEN. E II. EITHERSIDE . To them EVer your seruant , Madame . TAY. Where hast ' hou beene ? I did so long to see thee . EIT. Visiting , and so tyr'd ! I protest , Madame , 't is a monstrous trouble ! TAY. And so it is . I sweare I must to morrow , Beginne my visits ( would they were ouer ) at Court . It tortures me , to thinke on 'hem . EIT. I doe heare You ha' cause , Madam , your sute goes on . TAY. Who told thee ? EYT. One , that can tell : Mr. Eyther-side . TAY. O , thy husband ! Yes faith , there 's life in 't , now : It is referr'd . If wee once see it vnder the seales , wench , then , Haue with 'hem for the great Carroch , sixe horses , And the two Coach-men , with my Ambler , bare , And my three women : wee will liue , i' faith , The examples o' the towne , and gouerne it . I 'le lead the fashion still . EIT. You doe that , now , Sweet Madame . TAY. O , but then , I 'll euery day Bring vp some new deuice . Thou and I , Either-side , Will first be in it , I will giue it thee ; And they shall follow vs. Thou shalt , I sweare , Weare euery moneth a new gowne , out of it . EIT. Thanke you good Madame . TAY. Pray thee call mee Taile-bush As I thee , Either-side ; I not loue this , Madame . EYT. Then I protest to you , Taile-bush , I am glad Your Businesse so succeeds . TAY. Thanke thee , good Eyther-side . EYT. But Master Either-side tells me , that he likes Your other Businesse better . TAY. Which ? EIT. O' the Tooth-picks . TAY. I neuer heard on 't . EIT. Aske Mr. Mere-craft . MER. Madame ? H 'is one , in a word , I 'll trust his malice , Mere-craft hath whisper'd with the while . With any mans credit , I would haue abus'd ! MAN . Sir , if you thinke you doe please mee , in this , You are deceiu'd ! MER. No , but because my Lady , Nam'd him my kinsman ; I would satisfie you , What I thinke of him : and pray you , vpon it To iudge mee ! MAN . So I doe : that ill mens friendship , Is as vnfaithfull , as themselues . TAY. Doe you heare ? Ha' you a Businesse about Tooth-picks ? MER. Yes , Madame . Did I ne'r tell 't you ? I meant to haue offer'd it Your Lady-ship , on the perfecting the pattent . TAY. How is 't ! MER. For seruing the whole state with Tooth-picks ; The Proiect for Tooth-picks . Somewhat an intricate Businesse to discourse ) but — I shew , how much the Subiect is abus'd , First , in that one commodity ? then what diseases , And putrefactions in the gummes are bred , By those are made ' of ' adultrate , and false wood ? My plot , for reformation of these , followes . To haue all Tooth-picks , brought vnto an office , There seal'd ; and such as counterfait 'hem , mulcted . And last , for venting 'hem to haue a booke Printed , to teach their vse , which euery childe Shall haue throughout the kingdome , that can read , And learne to picke his teeth by . Which beginning Barely to practice , with some other rules , Of neuer sleeping with the mouth open , Traines his man whispers him . chawing Some graines of masticke , will preserue the breath Pure , and so free from taym — ha' what is 't ? sai'st thou ? TAY. Good faith , it sounds a very pretty Bus'nesse ! EIT. So Mr. Either-side saies , Madame . MER. The Lady is come . TAY. Is she ? Good , waite vpon her in . My Ambler Was neuer so ill absent . Either-side , How doe I looke to day ? Am I not drest , She lookes in her glasse Spruntly ? FIT. Yes , verily , Madame . TAY. Pox o' Madame , Will you not leaue that ? EIT. Yes , good Taile-bush . TAY. So ? Sounds not that better ? What vile Fucus is this , Thou hast got on ? EIT. 'T is Pearle . TAY. Pearle ? Oyster-shells : As I breath , Either-side , I know 't . Here comes ( They say ) a wonder , sirrah , has beene in Spaine ! Will teach vs all ! shee 's sent to mee , from Court. To gratulate with mee ! Pr'y thee , let 's obserue her , What faults she has , that wee may laugh at 'hem , When she is gone , EIT. That we will heartily , Tail-bush . Wittipol enters . TAY. O , mee ! the very Infanta of the Giants !
ACT. IIIJ. SCENE . IJI. MERE-CRAFT . WITTIPOL . to them . MER. Wittipol is drest like a Spanish Lady . Excuses him selfe for not kissing . Here is a noble Lady , Madame , come , From your great friends , at Court , to see your Ladi-ship : And haue the honour of your acquaintance . TAY. Sir . She do's vs honour . WIT. Pray you , say to her Ladiship , It is the manner of Spaine , to imbrace onely , Neuer to kisse . She will excuse the custome ! TAY. Your vse of it is law . Please you , sweete , Madame , To take a seate . WIT. Yes , Madame . I' haue had The fauour , through a world of faire report To know your vertues , Madame ; and in that Name , haue desir'd the happinesse of presenting My seruice to your Ladiship ! TAY. Your loue , Madame , I must not owne it else . WIT. Both are due , Madame , To your great vndertakings . TAY. Great ? In troth , Madame , They are my friends , that thinke 'hem any thing : If I can doe my sexe ( by 'hem ) any seruice , I' haue my ends , Madame . WIT. And they are noble ones , That make a multitude beholden , Madame : The common wealth of Ladies , must acknowledge from you . EIT. Except some enuious , Madame . WIT. Yo' are right in that , Madame , Of which race , I encountred some but lately . who ( 't seemes ) haue studyed reasons to discredit Your businesse . TAY. How , sweet Madame . WIT. Nay , the parties Wi' not be worth your pause — Most ruinous things , Madame , That haue put off all hope of being recouer'd To a degree of handsomenesse . TAY. But their reasons , Madame ? I would faine heare . WIT. Some Madame , I remember . They say , that painting quite destroyes the face — EIT. O , that 's an old one , Madame . WIT. There are new ones , too . Corrupts the breath ; hath left so little sweetnesse In kissing , as 't is now vs'd , but for fashion : And shortly will be taken for a punishment . Decayes the fore-teeth , that should guard the tongue ; And suffers that runne riot euer-lasting ! And ( which is worse ) some Ladies when they meete Manly begins to know him . Cannot be merry , and laugh , but they doe spit In one anothers faces ! MAN . I should know This voyce , and face too : WIT. Then they say , 't is dangerous To all the falne , yet well dispos'd Mad-dames , That are industrious , and desire to earne Their liuing with their sweate ! For any distemper Of heat , and motion , may displace the colours ; And if the paint once runne about their faces , Twenty to one , they will appeare so ill-fauour'd , Their seruants run away , too , and leaue the pleasure Imperfect , and the reckoning als' vnpay'd . EIT. Pox , these are Poets reasons . TAY. Some old Lady That keepes a Poet , has deuis'd these scandales . EIT. Faith we must haue the Poets banish'd , Madame , As Master Either-side saies . MER. Master Fitz dottrel ? And his wife : where ? Madame , the Duke of Drown'd-land , That will be shortly . WIT. Is this my Lord ? MER. The same .
ACT. IIIJ. SCENE . IV. FITZ-DOTTREL . Mistresse FITZ-DOTTRELL . PVG. to them . YOur seruant . Madame ! WIT. How now ? Friend ? offended , Wittipol whispers with Manly . That I haue found your haunt here ? MAN . No , but wondring At your strange fashion'd venture , hither . WIT. It is To shew you what they are , you so pursue . MAN . I thinke 't will proue a med'cine against marriage ; To know their manners . WIT. Stay , and profit then . MER. The Lady , Madame , whose Prince has brought her , here , Hee presents Mistresse Fitz-dottrel . To be instructed . WIT. Please you sit with vs , Lady . MER. That 's Lady-President . FIT. A goodly woman ! I cannot see the ring , though . MER. Sir , she has it . TAY. But , Madame , these are very feeble reasons ! WIT. So I vrg'd Madame , that the new complexion , Now to come forth , in name o' your Ladiship 's fucus , Had no ingredient — TAY. But I durst eate , I assure you . WIT. So do they , in Spaine . TAY. Sweet Madam be so liberall , To giue vs some o' your Spanish Fucuses ! WIT. They are infinit Madame . TAY. So I heare , they haue Water of Gourdes , of Radish , the white Beanes , Flowers of Glasse , of Thistles , Rose-marine . Raw Honey , Mustard-seed , and Bread dough-bak'd , The crums o' bread , Goats-milke , and whites of Egges , Campheere , and Lilly-roots , the fat of Swannes , Marrow of Veale , white Pidgeons , and pine - kernells , The seedes of Nettles , perse line , and hares gall . Limons , thin-skind — EIT. How , her Ladiship has studied Al excellent things ! WIT. But ordinary , Madame . No , the true rarities , are th' Aluagada , And Argentata of Queene Isabella ! TAY. I , what are their ingredients , gentle Madame ? WIT. Your Allum Scagliola , or Pol-dipedra ; And Zuccarino ; Turpentine of Abezzo . Wash'd in nine waters : Soda di leuante , Or your Ferne ashes ; Beniamin di gotta ; Grasso di serpe ; Porcelletto marino ; Oyles of Lentisco ; Zucche Mugia ; make The admirable Vernish for the face , Giues the right luster ; but two drops tub'd on With a piece of scarlet , makes a Lady of sixty Looke at sixteen . But , aboue all , the water Of the white Hen , of the Lady Estifanias ! TAY. O , I , that same , good Madame , I haue heard of : How is it done ? WIT. Madame , you take your Hen , Plume it , and skin it , cleanse it o' the inwards : Then chop it , bones and all : adde to foure ounces Of Carrnuacins , Pipitas , Sope of Cyprus , Make the decoction , streine it . Then distill it , And keepe it in your galley-pot well , glidder'd : Three drops preserues from wrinkles , warts , spots , moles , Blemish , or Sun-burnings , and keepes the skin In decimo sexto , euer bright , and smooth , As any looking-glasse ; and indeed , is call'd The Virgins milke for the face , Oglio reale ; A Ceruse , neyther cold or heat , will hurt ; And mixt with oyle of myrrhe , and the red Gilli-flower Call'd Cataputia ; and flowers of Rouistico ; Makes the best muta , or dye of the whole world . TAY. Deare Madame , will you let vs be familiar ? WIT. Your Ladiships seruant . MER How do you like her . FIT. Admirable ! Hee is iealous about his ring , and Mere-craft deliuers it . But , yet , I cannot see the ring . PVG. Sir . MER. I must Deliuer it , or marre all . This foole 's so iealous . Madame — Sir , weare this ring , and pray you take knowledge , 'T was sent you by his wife . And giue her thanks , Doe not you dwindle , Sir , beare vp . PVG. I thanke you , Sir , TAY. But for the manner of Spaine ! Sweet , Madame , let vs Be bold , now we are in : Are all the Ladies , There , i' the fashion ? WIT. None but Grandee's , Madame , O' the clasp'd traine , which may be worne at length , too , Or thus , vpon my arme . TAY. And doe they weare Cioppino's all ? WIT. If they be drest in punto , Madame . EIT. Guilt as those are ? madame ? WIT. Of Goldsmiths work , madame ; And set with diamants : and their Spanish pumps Of perfum'd leather . TAI . I should thinke it hard To go in 'hem , madame . WIT. At the first , it is , madame . TAI . Do you neuer fall in 'hem ? WIT. Neuer . EI. I sweare , I should Six times an houre . WIT. But you haue men at hand , still , To helpe you , if you fall ? EIT. Onely one , madame , The Guardo-duennas , such a little old man , As this . EIT. Alas ! hee can doe nothing ! this ! WIT. I 'll tell you , madame , I saw i' the Court of Spaine once , A Lady fall i' the Kings sight , along . And there shee lay , flat spred , as an Vmbrella , Her hoope here crack'd ; no man durst reach a hand To helpe her , till the Guarda-duenn'as came , Who is the person onel' allow'd to touch A Lady there : and he but by this finger . EIT. Ha' they no seruants , madame , there ? nor friends ? WIT. An Escudero , or so madame , that wayts Vpon 'hem in another Coach , at distance , And when they walke , or daunce , holds by a hand-kercher , Neuer presumes to touch 'hem . EIT. This 's sciruy ! And a forc'd grauity ! I doe not like it . I like our owne much better . TAY. 'T is more French , And Courtly ours . EIT. And tasts more liberty . We may haue our doozen of visiters , at once , Make loue t' vs. TAY. And before our husbands ? EIT. Husband ? As I am honest , Tayle-bush I doe thinke If no body should loue mee , but my poore husband , I should e'n hang my selfe . TAY. Fortune forbid , wench : So faire a necke should haue so foule a neck-lace , EIT. 'T is true , as I am handsome ! WIT. I receiu'd , Lady , A token from you , which I would not bee Rude to refuse , being your first remembrance . ( FIT. O , I am satisfied now ! MER. Do you see it , Sir . ) WIT. But since you come , to know me , neerer , Lady , I 'll begge the honour , you will weare it for mee , Wittipol giues it Mistresse Fitz-dottrel . Mere-craft murmures , He is satisfied , now he sees it . It must be so . Mrs. FIT. Sure I haue heard this tongue . MER. What do you meane , Sr ? WIT. Would you ha' me mercenary ? We 'll recompence it anon , in somewhat else , FIT. I doe not loue to be gull'd , though in a toy . Wife , doe you heare ? yo' are come into the Schole , wife , Where you may learne , I doe perceiue it , any thing ! How to be fine , or faire , or great , or proud , Or what you will , indeed , wife ; heere 't is taught . And I am glad on 't , that you may not say , Another day , when honours come vpon you , You wanted meanes . I ha' done my parts : beene , He vpbraids her , with his Bill of costs . To day , at fifty pound charge , first , for a ring , To get you entred . Then left my new Play , To wait vpon you , here , to see 't confirm'd . That I may say , both to mine owne eyes , and eares , Senses , you are my witnesse , sha' hath inioy'd All helps that could be had , for loue , or money — Mrs. FIT. To make a foole of her . FIT. Wife , that 's your malice , The wickednesse o' you nature to interpret Your husbands kindesse thus . But I 'll not leaue ; Still to doe good , for your deprau'd affections : Intend it . bend this stubborne will ; be great . TAY. Good Madame , whom do they vse in messages ? WI. They commonly vse their slaues , Madame . TAI . And do's your Ladiship . Thinke that so good , Madame ? WIT. no , indeed , Madame ; I , Therein preferre the fashion of England farre , Of your young delicate Page , or discreet Vsher , FIT. And I goe with your Ladiship , in opinion , Directly for your Gentleman-vsher , There 's not a finer Officer goes on ground . WIT. If hee be made and broken to his place , once . FIT. Nay , so I presuppose him . WIT. And they are fitter Managers too , Sir , but I would haue 'hem call'd Our Escudero's . FIT. Good . WIT. Say , I should send To your Ladiship , who ( I presume ) has gather'd All the deare secrets , to know how to make Pastillos of the Dutchesse of Braganza , Coquettas , Almoiauana's , Mantecada's , Alcoreas , Mustaccioli ; or say it were The Peladore of Isabella , or balls Against the itch , or aqua nanfa , or oyle Of Iessamine for gloues , of the Marquesse Muja ; Or for the head , and hayre : why , these are offices FIT. Fit for a gentleman , not a slaue . They onely Might aske for your piueti , Spanish-cole , To burne , and sweeten a roome : but the Arcana Of Ladies Cabinets — FIT. Should be else-where trusted . He enters himselfe with the Ladie 's Yo' are much about the truth . Sweet honoured Ladies , Let mee fall in wi' you . I' ha' ' my female wit , As well as my male . And I doe know what sutes A Lady of spirit , or a woman of fashion ! WIT. And you would haue your wife such . FIT. Yes , Madame , aërie , Light ; not to plaine dishonesty , I meane : But , somewhat o' this side . WIT. I take you , Sir . H' has reason Ladies . I 'll not giue this rush For any Lady , that cannot be honest Within a thred . TAY. Yes , Madame , and yet venter As far for th' other , in her Fame — WIT. As can be ; Coach it to Pimlico ; daunce the Saraband ; Heare , and talke bawdy ; laugh as loud , as a larum ; Squeake , spring , do any thing . EIT. In young company , Madame . TAY. Or afore gallants . If they be braue , or Lords , A woman is ingag'd . FIT. I say so , Ladies , It is ciuility to deny vs nothing . PVG. You talke of a Vniuersity ! why , The Diuell admires him . Hell is A Grammar-schoole to this ! EIT. But then , Shee must not lose a looke on stuffes , or cloth , Madame . TAY. Nor no course fellow . WIT. She must be guided , Madame By the clothes he weares , and company he is in ; Whom to salute , how farre — FIT. I ha' told her this . And how that bawdry too , vpo' the point , Is ( in it selfe ) as ciuill a discourse — WIT. As any other affayre of flesh , what euer . FIT. But shee will ne'r be capable , shee is not So much as comming , Madame ; I know not how She loses all her opportunities With hoping to be forc'd . I' haue entertain'd A gentleman , a younger brother , here , He shews his Pug. Whom I would faine breed vp , her Escudero , Against some expectation's that I haue , And she 'll not countenance him . WIT. What 's his name ? FIT. Diuel , o' Darbi-shire . EIT. Blesse vs from him ! TAY. Diuell ? Call him De-uile , sweet Madame . Mrs. FI. What you please , Ladies . TAY. De-uile's a prettier name ! EIT. And sounds , me thinks , As it came in with the Conquerour — MAN . Ouer smocks ! What things they are ? Manly goes out with indignation . That nature should be at leasure Euer to make 'hem ! my woing is at an end . WIT. What can he do ? EIT. Let 's heare him . TAY. Can he manage ? FIT. Please you to try him , Ladies . Stand forth , Diuell . PVG. Was all this but the preface to my torment ? FIT. Come , let their Ladiships see your honours . EIT. O , Hee makes a wicked leg . TAY. As euer I saw ! WIT. Fit for a Diuell . TAY. Good Madame , call him De-uile . WIT. De-uile , They begin their Catechisme . what property is there most required I' your conceit , now , in the Escudero ? FIT. Why doe you not speake ? PVG. A setled discreet pase , Madame . WIT. I thinke , a barren head , Sir , Mountaine-like , To be expos'd to the cruelty of weathers — FIT. I , for his Valley is beneath the waste , Madame , And to be fruitfull there , it is sufficient . Dulnesse vpon you ! Could not you hit this ? He strikes him . PVG. Good Sir — WIT. He then had had no barren head . You daw him too much , in troth , Sir . FIT. I must walke With the French sticke , like an old vierger for you , The Diuell prayes . PVG. O , Chiefe , call mee to Hell againe , and free mee . FIT. Do you murmur now ? PVG. Not I , Sr. WIT. What do you take Mr. Deuile , the height of your employment , In the true perfect Escudero ? FIT. When ? What doe you answer ? PVG. To be able , Madame , First to enquire , then report the working , Of any Ladies physicke , in sweete phrase , WIT. Yes , that 's an act of elegance , and importance . But what aboue ? FIT. O , that I had a goad for him . PVG. To find out a good Corne-cutter . TAY. Out on him ! EIT. Most barbarous ! FIT. Why did you doe this , now ? Of purpose to discredit me ? you damn'd Diuell . PVG. Sure , if I be not yet , I shall be . All My daies in Hell , were holy-daies to this ! TAY. 'T is labour lost , Madame ? EIT. H' is a dull fellow Of no capacity ! TAI . Of no discourse ! O , if my Ambler had beene here ! EIT. I , Madame ; You talke of a man , where is there such another ? WIT. Mr. Deuile , put case , one of my Ladies , heere , Had a fine brach : and would imploy you forth To treate 'bout a conuenient match for her . What would you obserue ? PVG. The color , and the size , Madame . WIT. And nothing else ? FIT. The Moon , you calfe , the Moone ! WIT. I , and the Signe . TAI . Yes , and receits for pronenesse . WIT. Then when the Puppies came , what would you doe ? PVG. Get their natiuities cast ! WIT. This 's wel . What more ? PVG. Consult the Almanack-man which would be least ? Which cleaneliest ? WIT. And which silentest ? This 's wel , madame ! WIT. And while she were with puppy ? PVG. Walke her out , And ayre her euery morning ! WIT. Very good ! And be industrious to kill her fleas ? PVG. Yes ! WIT. He will make a pretty proficient . PVG. Who , Comming from Hell , could looke for such Catechising ? The Diuell is an Asse . I doe acknowledge it . FIT. Fitz-dottrel admires Wittipol . The top of woman ! All her sexe in abstract ! I loue her , to each syllable , falls from her . TAI . Good madame giue me leaue to goe aside with him ! And try him a little ! WIT. Do , and I 'll with-draw , Madame , The Diuell praies again . With this faire Lady : read to her , the while . TAI . Come , Sr. PVG. Deare Chiefe , relieue me , or I perish . WIT. Lady , we 'll follow . You are not iealous Sir ? FIT. He giues his wife to him , taking him to be a Lady . O , madame ! you shall see . Stay wife , behold , I giue her vp heere , absolutely , to you , She is your owne . Do with her what you will ! Melt , cast , and forme her as you shall thinke good ! Set any stamp on ! I 'll receiue her from you As a new thing , by your owne standard ! WIT. Well , Sir !
ACT. IIIJ. SCENE . V. MERE-CRAFT . FITZ-DOTTREL . PIT-FAL . EVER-ILL . PLVTARCHVS . BVt what ha' you done i' your Dependance , since ? FIT. O , it goes on , I met your Cousin , the Master — MER. You did not acquaint him , Sr ? FIT. Faith , but I did , Sr. And vpon better thought , not without reason ! He being chiefe Officer , might ha' tane it ill , else , As a Contempt against his Place , and that In time Sir , ha' drawne on another Dependance . No , I did finde him in good termes , and ready To doe me any seruice . MER. So he said , to you ? But Sr , you do not know him . FIT. Why , I presum'd Because this bus'nesse of my wiues , requir'd mee , I could not ha' done better : And hee told Me , that he would goe presently to your Councell , A Knight , here , i' the Lane — MER. Yes , Iustice Either-side . FIT : And get the Feoffment drawne , with a letter of Atturney , For liuerie and seisen ! MER. That I knowe's the course . But Sir , you meane not to make him Feoffee ? FIT. Nay , that I 'll pause on ! MER. How now little Pit-fall . PIT . Your Cousin Master Euer-ill , would come in — But he would know if Master Manly were heere . Mere-craft whispers against him . MER. No , tell him , if he were , I ha' made his peace ! Hee 's one , Sir , has no State , and a man knowes not , How such a trust may tempt him . FIT. I conceiue you . EVE . Sr. this same deed is done here . MER. Pretty Plutarchus ? Art thou come with it ? and has Sir Paul view'd it ? PLV. His hand is to the draught . MER. Will you step in , Sr. And read it ? FIT. Yes . EVE . I pray you a word wi' you . Eueril whispers against Mere-craft . Sir Paul Eitherside will'd mee gi' you caution , Whom you did make Feoffee : for 't is the trust O' your whole State : and though my Cousin heere Be a worthy Gentleman , yet his valour has At the tall board bin question'd ; and we hold Any man so impeach'd , of doubtfull honesty ! I will not iustifie this ; but giue it you To make your profit of it : if you vtter it , I can forsweare it ! FIT. I beleeue you , and thanke you , Sir .
ACT. IIIJ. SCENE . VI. WITTIPOL . Mistresse FITZ-DOTTREL . MANLY. MERE-CRAFT . BE not afraid , sweet Lady : yo' are trusted To loue , not violence here ; I am no rauisher , But one , whom you , by your faire trust againe , May of a seruant make a most true friend . Mrs. FI. And such a one I need , but not this way : Sir , I confesse me to you , the meere manner Of your attempting mee , this morning tooke mee , And I did hold m'inuention , and my manners , Were both engag'd , to giue it a requitall ; But not vnto your ends : my hope was then , ( Though interrrupted , ere it could be vtter'd ) That whom I found the Master of such language , That braine and spirit , for such an enterprise , Could not , but if those succours were demanded To a right vse , employ them vertuously ! And make that profit of his noble parts , Which they would yeeld . Sr , you haue now the ground , To exercise them in : I am a woman ; That cannot speake more wretchednesse of my selfe , Then you can read ; match'd to a masse of folly ; That euery day makes haste to his owne ruine ; The wealthy portion , that I brought him , spent ; And ( through my friends neglect ) no ioynture made me . My fortunes standing in this precipice , 'T is Counsell that I want , and honest aides : And in this name , I need you , for a friend ! Neuer in any other ; for his ill , Must not make me , Sr , worse . MAN . O friend ! forsake not Manly , conceal'd this while shews himselfe . The braue occasion , vertue offers you , To keepe you innocent : I haue fear'd for both ; And watch'd you , to preuent the ill I fear'd . But , since the weaker side hath so assur'd mee , Let not the stronger fall by his owne vice , Or be the lesse a friend , cause vertue needs him . WIT. Vertue shall neuer aske my succours twice ; Most friend , most man ; your Counsells are commands : Lady , I can loue goodnes in you , more Then I did Beauty ; and doe here intitle Your vertue , to the power , vpon a life You shall engage in any fruitfull seruice , Euen to forfeit . MER. Madame : Do you heare , Sir , Mere-craft takes Wittipol aside , & moues a proiect for himselfe . We haue another leg-strain'd , for this Dottrel . He ' ha's a quarrell to carry , and ha's caus'd A deed of Feoffment , of his whole estate To be drawne yonder ; h' ha'st within : And you , Onely , he meanes to make Feoffee . H 'is falne So desperatly enamour'd on you , and talkes Most like a mad-man : you did neuer heare A Phrentick , so in loue with his owne fauour ! Now , you doe know , 't is of no validity In your name , as you stand ; Therefore aduise him To put in me . ( h 'is come here : ) You shall share Sir .
ACT. IV. SCENE . VIJ. WITTIPOL . Mistresse FITZ-DOTTREL . MANLY. MERE-CRAFT . FITZ-DOTTRELL . EVERILL . PLVTARCHVS . FIT. Madame , I haue a suit to you ; and afore-hand , I doe bespeake you ; you must not deny me , I will be graunted . WIT. Sir , I must know it , though . FIT. No Lady ; you must not know it : yet , you must too . For the trust of it , and the fame indeed , Which else were lost me . I would vse your name , But in a Feoffment : make my whole estate Ouer vnto you : a trifle , a thing of nothing , Some eighteene hundred . WIT. Alas ! I vnderstand not Those things Sir . I am a woman , and most loath , To embarque my selfe — FIT. You will not slight me , Madame ? WIT. Nor you 'll not quarrell me ? FIT. No , sweet Madame , I haue Already a dependance ; for which cause I doe this : let me put you in , deare Madame , Hee hopes to be the man . I may be fairely kill'd . WIT. You haue your friends , Sir , About you here , for choice . EVE . She tells you right , Sir . FIT. Death , if she doe , what do I care for that ? Say , I would haue her tell me wrong . WIT. Why , Sir , If for the trust , you 'll let me haue the honor To name you one . FIT. Nay , you do me the honor , Madame : She designes Manly . Who is 't ? WIT. This Gentleman : FIT. O , no , sweet Madame , I● ' is friend to him , with whom I ha' the dependance . WIT. Who might he bee ? FIT. One Wittipol : do you know him ? WIT. Alas Sir , he , a toy : This Gentleman A friend to him ? no more then I am Sir ! FIT. But will your Ladyship vndertake that , Madame ? WIT. Yes , and what else , for him , you will engage me . FIT. What is his name ? WIT. His name is Eustace Manly . FIT. Whence do's he write himselfe ? WIT. of Middle-sex , Esquire . FIT. Say nothing , Madame . Clerke , come hether Write Eustace Manly , Squire o' Middle-sex . MER. What ha' you done , Sir ? WIT. Nam'd a gentleman , That I 'll be answerable for , to you , Sir . Had I nam'd you , it might ha' beene suspected : This way , 't is safe . FIT. Come Gentlemen , your hands , Eueril applaudes it . For witnes . MAN . What is this ? EVE . You ha' made Election Of a most worthy Gentleman ! MAN . Would one of worth Had spoke it : whence it comes , it is Rather a shame to me , then a praise . EVE . Sir , I will giue you any Satisfaction . MAN . Be silent then : " falshood commends not truth . PLV. You do deliuer this , Sir , as your deed . To th' vse of Mr. Manly ? FIT. Yes : and Sir — When did you see yong Wittipol ? I am ready , For processe now ; Sir , this is Publication . He shall heare from me , he would needes be courting My wife , Sir . MAN . Yes : So witnesseth his Cloake there . FIT. Fitz-dottrel ● suspicious of Manly still . Nay good Sir , — Madame , you did vndertake — WIT. What ? FIT. That he was not Wittipols friend . WIT. I heare Sr. no confession of it . FIT. O she know's not ; Now I remember , Madame ! This young Wittipol , Would ha'd debauch'd my wife , and made me Cuckold , Through a casement ; he did fly her home To mine owne window : but I think I sou't him , And rauish'd her away , out of his pownces . Tha ' sworne to ha' him by the eares : I feare The toy , wi' not do me right . WIT. No ? that were pitty ! What right doe you aske , Sir ? Here he is will do 't you ? FIT. Wittipol discouers himselfe . Ha ? Wittipol ? WIT. I Sir , no more Lady now , Nor Spaniard ! MAN . No indeed , 't is Wittipol . FIT. Am I the thing I fear'd ? WIT. A Cuckold ? No Sir , But you were late in possibility , I 'll tell you so much . MAN . But your wife 's too vertuous ! WIT. Wee 'll see her Sir , at home , and leaue you here , To be made Duke o' Shore-ditch with a proiect . FIT. Theeues , rauishers . WIT. Crie but another note , Sir , I 'll marre the tune , o' your pipe ! FIT. Gi' me my deed , then . He would haue his deed again . WIT. Neither : that shall be kept for your wiues good , Who will know , better how to vse it . FIT. Ha' To feast you with my land ? WIT. Sir , be you quiet , Or I shall gag you , ere I goe , consult Your Master of dependances ; how to make this A second businesse , you haue time Sir . FIT. Oh! Witipol bufflees him , and goes out What will the ghost of my wife Grandfather , My learned Father , with my worshipfull Mother , Thinke of me now , that left me in this world In state to be their Heire ? that am become A Cuckold , and an Asse , and my wiues Ward ; Likely to loose my land ; ha' my throat cut : All , by her practice ! MER. Sir , we are all abus'd ! FIT. And be so still ! Who hinders you , I pray you , Let me alone , I would enioy my selfe , And be the Duke o' Drown'd-Land , you ha' made me . MER. Sir , we must play an after-game o' this FIT. But I am not in case to be a Gam-ster : I tell you once againe — MER. You must be rul'd And take some counsell . FIT. Sir , I do hate counsell , As I do hate my wife , my wicked wife ! MER. But we may thinke how to recouer all : If you will act . FIT. I will not think ; nor act ; Nor yet recouer ; do not talke to me ? I 'll runne out o' my witts , rather then heare ; I will be what I am , Fabian Fitz-Dottrel , Though all the world say nay to 't . MER. Let 's follow him .
ACT. V. SCENE . I. AMBLER . PITFALL . MERE-CRAFT . BVt ha's my Lady mist me ? PIT . Beyond telling ! Here ha's been that infinity of strangers ! And then she would ha' had you , to ha' sampled you With one within , that they are now a teaching ; And do's pretend to your ranck . AMB. Good fellow Pit-fall , Tel Mr. Mere-craft , I intreat a word with him . Pitfall goes out . This most vnlucky accident will goe neare To be the losse o' my place ; I am in doubt ! MER. With me ? what say you Mr Ambler ? AMB. Sir , I would beseech your worship stand betweene Me , and my Ladies displeasure , for my absence . MER. O , is that all ? I warrant you . AMB. I would tell you Sir But how it happened . MER. Briefe , good Master Ambler , Mere-craft seemes full of businesse . Put your selfe to your rack : for I haue tasque Of more importance . AMB. Sir you 'll laugh at me ! But ( so is Truth ) a very friend of mine , Finding by conference with me , that I liu'd Too chast for my complexion ( and indeed Too honest for my place , Sir ) did aduise me If I did loue my selfe ( as that I do , I must confesse ) MER. Spare your Parenthesis . AMB. To gi' my body a little euacuation — MER. Well , and you went to a whore ? AMB. No , Sr. I durst not ( For feare it might arriue at some body's eare , Ambler tels this with extraordinary speed . It should not ) trust my selfe to a common house ; But got the Gentlewoman to goe with me , And carry her bedding to a Conduit-head , Hard by the place toward Tyborne , which they call My L. Majors Banqueting-house . Now Sir , This morning Was Execution ; and I ner'e dream't on 't , Till I heard the noise o' the people , and the horses ; And neither I , nor the poore Gentlewoman Durst stirre , till all was done and past : so that I' the Interim , we fell a sleepe againe . Heflags MER. Nay , if you fall , from your gallop , I am gone Sr. AMB. But , when I wak'd , to put on my cloathes , a sute , I made new for the action , it was gone , And all my money , with my purse , my seales , My hard-wax , and my table-bookes , my studies , And a fine new deuise , I had to carry My pen , and inke , my ciuet , and my tooth-picks , All vnder one . But , that which greiu'd me , was The Gentlewomans shoes ( with a paire of roses , And garters , I had giuen her for the businesse ) So as that made vs stay , till it was darke . For I was faine to lend her mine , and walke In a rug , by her , barefoote , to Saint Giles'es . MER. A kind of Irish penance ! Is this all , Sir ? AMB. To satisfie my Lady . MER. I will promise you , Sr. AMB. I ha' told the true Disaster . MER. I cannot stay wi' you Sir , to condole ; but gratulate your returne . AMB. An honest gentleman , but he 's neuer at leisure To be himselfe : He ha's such tides of businesse .
ACT. V. SCENE . II. PVG. AMBLER . O , Call me home againe , deare Chiefe , and put me To yoaking foxes , milking of Hee-goates , Pounding of water in a morter , lauing The sea dry with a nut-shell , gathering all The leaues are falne this Autumne , drawing farts Out of dead bodies , making ropes of sand , Catching the windes together in a net , Mustring of ants , and numbring atomes ; all That hell , and you thought exquisite torments , rather Then stay me here , a thought more : I would sooner Keepe fleas within a circle , and be accomptant A thousand yeere , which of 'hem and how far Out leap'd the other , then endure a minute Such as I haue within . There is no hell To a Lady of fashion . All your tortures there Ambler comes in , & suruayes him Are pastimes to it . 'T would be a refreshing For me , to be i' the fire againe , from hence . AMB. This is my suite , and those the shoes and roses ! PVG. Th' haue such impertinent vexations , Pug perceiues it , and starts . A generall Councell o' diuels could not hit — Ha! This is hee , I tooke a sleepe with his Wench , And borrow'd his cloathes . What might I doe to balke him ? AMB. Do you heare , Sr ? PVG. Answ. him but not to th' purpose AMB. He answers quite from the purpose . What is your name , I pray you Sir . PVG. Is' t so late Sir ? AMB. I aske not o' the time , but of your name , Sir , PVG. I thanke you , Sir . Yes it dos hold Sir , certaine . AMB. Hold , Sir ? What holds ? I must both hold , and talke to you About these clothes . PVG. A very pretty lace ! But the Taylor cossend me . AMB. No , I am cossend By you ! robb'd . PVG. Why , when you please Sir , I am For three peny Gleeke , your man AMB. Pox o' your gleeke , And three pence . Giue me an answere . PVG. Sir , My master is the best at it . AMB. Your master ! Who is your Master . PVG. Let it be friday night . AMB. What should be then ? PVG. Your best songs Thom o' Bet'lem AMB. I thinke , you are he . Do's he mocke me trow , from purpose ? Or do not I speake to him , what I meane ? Good Sir your name . PVG. Only a couple a' Cocks Sir , If we can get a Widgin , 't is in season . AMB. For Scepticks . He hopes to make on o' these Scipticks o' me ( I thinke I name 'hem right ) and do's not fly me . I wonder at that ! 't is a strange confidence ! I 'll prooue another way , to draw his answer .
ACT. V. SCENE . IIJ. MERE-CRAFT . FITZ-DOTTREL . EVERILL . PVG. It is the easiest thing Sir , to be done . As plaine , as sizzling : roule but wi' your eyes , And foame at th' mouth . A little castle-soape Will do 't , to rub your lips : And then a nutshell , With toe , and touch-wood in it to spit fire , Did you ner'e read , Sir , little Darrels tricks , With the boy o' Burton , and the 7 , in Lancashire , Sommers at Nottingham ? All these do teach it . And wee 'll giue out , Sir , that your wife ha's bewitch'd you : They repaire their old plot EVE . And practised with those two , as Sorcerers . MER. And ga' you potions , by which meanes you were Not Compos mentis , when you made your feoffment . There 's no recouery o' your state , but this : This , Sir , will sting . EVE . And moue in a Court of equity . MER. For , it is more then manifest , that this was A plot o' your wiues , to get your land . FIT. I thinke it . EVE . Sir it appeares . MER. Nay , and my cossen has knowne These gallants in these shapes . EVE . T' haue don strange things , Sir . One as the Lady , the other as the Squire . MER. How , a mans honesty may be fool'd ! I thought him A very Lady . FIT. So did I : renounce me else . MER. But this way , Sir , you 'll be reueng'd at height . EVE . Vpon 'hem all . MER. Yes faith , and since your Wife Has runne the way of woman thus , e'en giue her — FIT. Lost by this hand , to me ; dead to all ioyes Of her deare Dottrell , I shall neuer pitty her : That could , pitty her selfe . MER. Princely resolu'd Sir , And like your selfe still , in Potentiâ .
ACT. V. SCENE . IV. MERE-CRAFT , &c. to them . GVILT-HEAD . SLEDGE . PLVTARCHVS . SERIEANTS . GVilt-head what newes ? FIT. O Sir , my hundred peices : Fitz-dottrel askes for his money . Let me ha' them yet . GVI. Yes Sir , officers Arrest him . FIT. Me ? SER. I arrest you . SLE. Keepe the peace , I charge you gentlemen . FIT. Arrest me ? Why ? GVI. For better security , Sir . My sonne Plutarchus Assures me , y' are not worth a groat . PLV. Pardon me , Father , I said his worship had no foote of Land left : And that I 'll iustifie , for I writ the deed . FIT. Ha' you these tricks i' the citty ? GVI. Yes , and more . Arrest this gallant too , here , at my suite . Meaning Mere-craft SLE. I , and at mine . He owes me for his lodging Two yeere and a quarter . MER. Why M. Guilt-head , Land-Lord , Thou art not mad , though th' art Constable Puft vp with th' pride of the place ? Do you heare , Sirs . Haue I deseru'd this from you two ? for all My paines at Court , to get you each a patent GVI. The Project of forks For what ? MER. Vpo' my proiect o' the forkes , SLE. Forkes ? what be they ? MER. The laudable vse of forkes , Brought into custome here , as they are in Italy , To th' sparing o' Napkins . That , that should haue made Your bellowes goe at the forge , as his at the fornace . I ha' procur'd it , ha' the Signet for it , Dealt with the Linnen-drapers , on my priuate , By cause , I fear'd , they were the likelyest euer To stirre against , to crosse it : for 't will be A mighty sauer of Linnen through the kingdome ( As that is one o' my grounds , and to spare washing ) Now , on you two , had I layd all the profits . Guilt-head to haue the making of all those Of gold and siluer , for the better personages ; And you , of those of Steele for the common sort . And both by Pattent , I had brought you your seales in . Sledge is brought about , And Guilt-head comes . But now you haue preuented me , and I thanke you . SLE. Sir , I will bayle you , at mine owne ap-perill . MER. Nay choose . PLV. Do you so too , good Father . GVI. I like the fashion o' the proiect , well , The forkes ! It may be a lucky one ! and is not Intricate , as one would say , but fit for Plaine heads , as ours , to deale in . Do you heare Officers , we discharge you . MER. Why this shewes A little good nature in you , I confesse , But do not tempt your friends thus . Little Guilt-head , Aduise your sire , great Guilt-head from these courses : And , here , to trouble a great man in reuersion , For a matter o' fifty on a false Alarme , Away , it shewes not well . Let him get the pieces And bring 'hem . Yo 'll heare more else . PLV. Father .
ACT. V. SCENE . V. AMBLER . To them . O Master Sledge , are you here ? I ha' been to seeke you . You are the Constable , they say . Here 's one That I do charge with Felony , for the suite He weares , Sir . MER. Who ? M. Fitz-Dottrels man ? Ware what you do , M. Ambler . AMB. Sir , these clothes I 'll sweare , are mine : and the shooes the gentlewomans I told you of : and ha' him afore a Iustice , I will . PVG. My master , Sir , will passe his word for me . AMB. O , can you speake to purpose now ? FIT. Not I , Fitz-dottrel disclaimes him . If you be such a one Sir , I will leaue you To your God fathers in Law . Let twelue men worke . PVG Do you heare Sir , pray , in priuate . FIT. well , what say you ? Briefe , for I haue no time to loose PVG. Truth is , Sir , I am the very Diuell , and had leaue To take this body , I am in , to serue you . Which was a Cutpurses , and hang'd this Morning . And it is likewise true , I stole this suite To cloth me with . But Sir let me not goe To prison for it . I haue hitherto Lost time , done nothing ; showne , indeed , no part O' my Diuels nature . Now , I will so helpe Your malice , 'gainst these parties : so aduance The businesse , that you haue in hand of witchcraft , An your possession , as my selfe were in you . Teach you such tricks , to make your belly swell , And your eyes turne , to foame , to stare , to gnash Your teeth together , and to beate your selfe , Laugh loud , and faine six voices — FIT. Out you Rogue ! You most infernall counterfeit wretch ! Auaunt ! Do you thinke to gull me with your Aesops Fables ? Here take him to you , I ha' no part in him . PVG. Sir . FIT. Away , I do disclaime , I will not heare you . And sends him away . MER. What said he to you , Sir ? FIT. Like a lying raskall Told me he was the Diuel . MER. How ! a good rest ! FIT. And that he would teach me , such fine diuels tricks For our new resolution . EVE . O' pox on him , 'T was excellent wisely done , Sir , not to trust him . MER Why , if he were the Diuel , we sha' not need him , Mere-craft giues the instructions to him and the rest . If you 'll be rul'd . Goe throw your selfe on a bed , Sir , And faine you ill . Wee 'll not be seene wi' you , Till after , that you haue a fit : and all Confirm'd within . Keepe you with the two Ladies And perswade them . I 'll to Iustice Either-side , And possesse him with all . Traines shall seeke out Ingine , And they two fill the towne with 't , euery cable Is to be veer'd . We must employ out all Our emissaries now ; Sir , I will send you Bladders and Bellowes . Sir , be confident , 'T is no hard thing t' out doe the Deuill in : A Boy o' thirteene yeere old made him an Asse But t' toher day . FIT. Well , I 'll beginne to practice , And scape the imputation of being Cuckold , By mine owne act . MER. yo' are right . EVE . Come , you ha' put Your selfe to a simple coyle here , and your freinds , By dealing with new Agents , in new plots . MER. No more o' that , sweet cousin . EVE . What had you To doe with this same Wittipol , for a Lady ? MER. Question not that : 't is done . EVE . You had some straine 'Boue E - la ? MER. I had indeed . EVE . And , now , you crack for 't . MER. Do not vpbraid me . EVE . Come , you must be told on 't ; You are so couetous , still , to embrace More then you can , that you loose all . MER. 'T is right . What would you more , then Guilty ? Now , your succours .
ACT. V. SCENE . VJ. SHAKLES . PVG INIQVITY . DIVEL . HEre you are lodg'd , Sir , you must send your garnish , Pug is brought to New gate . If you 'll be priuat . PVG. There it is , Sir , leaue me . To New-gate , brought ? How is the name of Deuill Discredited in me ! What a lost fiend Shall I be , on returne ? My Cheife will roare In triumph , now , that I haue beene on earth , A day , and done no noted thing , but brought Enter Iniquity the Vice . That body back here , was hang'd out this morning . Well! would it once were midnight , that I knew My vtmost . I thinke Time be drunke , and sleepes ; He is so still , and moues not ! I doe glory Now i' my torment . Neither can I expect it , I haue it with my fact . INI. Child of hell , be thou merry : Put a looke on , as round , boy , and red as a cherry . Cast care at thy posternes ; and firke i' thy fetters , They are ornaments , Baby , haue graced thy betters : Looke vpon me , and hearken . Our Cheife doth salute thee , And least the coldyron should chance to confute thee , H' hath sent thee , grant-paroll by me to stay longer A moneth here on earth , against cold Child , or honger PVG. How ? longer here a moneth ? ING. Yes , boy , till the Session , That so thou mayest haue a triumphall egression . PVG. In a cart , to be hang'd . ING. No , Child , in a Carre , The charriot of Triumph , which most of them are . And in the meane time , to be greazy , and bouzy , And nasty , and filthy , and ragged and louzy , With dam'n me , renounce me , and all the fine phrases ; That bring , vnto Tiborne , the plentifull gazes . PVG. He is a Diuell ! and may be our Cheife ! The great Superiour Diuell ! for his malice ? Arch-diuel ! I acknowledge him . He knew What I would suffer , when he tie'd me vp thus In a rogues body : and he has ( I thanke him ) His tyrannous pleasure on me , to confine me To the vnlucky carkasse of a Cutpurse , Wherein I could do nothing . DIV. Impudent fiend , The great Deuill enters , and vpbraids him with all his dayes worke . Stop thy lewd mouth . Doest thou not shame and tremble To lay thine owne dull damn'd defects vpon An innocent case , there ? Why thou heauy slaue ! The spirit , that did possesse that flesh before Put more true life , in a finger , and a thumbe , Then thou in the whole Masse . Yet thou rebell'st And murmur'st ? What one profer hast thou made , Wicked inough , this day , that might be call'd Worthy thine owne , much lesse the name that sent thee ? First , thou did'st helpe thy selfe into a beating Promptly , and with 't endangered'st too thy tongue : A Diuell , and could not keepe a body intire One day ! That , for our credit . And to vindicate it , Hinderd'st ( for ought thou know'st ) a deed of darknesse : Which was an act of that egregious folly , As no one , to'ard the Diuel , could ha' thought on , This for your acting ! but for suffering ! why Thou hast beene cheated on , with a false beard , And a turn'd cloake . Faith , would your predecessour The Cutpurse , thinke you , ha' been so ? Out vpon thee , The hurt th' hast don , to let men know their strength , And that the' are able to out-doe a diuel Put in a body , will for euer be A scarre vpon our Name ! whom hast thou dealt with , Woman or man , this day , but haue out-gone thee Some way , and most haue prou'd the better fiendes ? Yet , you would be imploy'd ? Yes , hell shall make you Prouinciall o' the Cheaters or Bawd-ledger , For this side o' the towne ! No doubt you 'll render A rare accompt of things . Bane o' your itch , And scratching for imployment . I 'll ha' brimstone To al lay it sure , and fire to sindge your nayles off , But , that I would not such a damn'd dishonor Sticke on our state , as that the diuell were hang'd ; And could not saue a body , Iniquity takes him on his back . that he tooke From Tyborne , but it must come thither againe : You should e'en ride . But , vp away with him — INI. Mount , dearling of darkenesse , my shoulders are broad : He that caries the fiend , is sure of his loade . The Diuell was wont to carry away the euill ; But , now , the Euill out-carries the Diuell .
ACT. V. SCENE . VIJ. SHACKLES . KEEPERS . A great noise is heard in New-gate , and the Keepers come out affrighted . O mee ! KEE . 1. What 's this ? 2. A ●ece of Iustice Hall Is broken downe . 3. Fough ! what esteeme of brimstone Is here ? 4. The prisoner 's dead , came in but now ! SHA. Ha ? where ? 4. Look here . KEE . S'lid , I shuld know his countenance ! It is Gill-Cut-purse , was hang'd out , this morning ! SHA. 'T is he ! 2. The Diuell , sure , has a hand in this ! 3. What shall wee doe ? SHA. Carry the newes of it Vnto the Sherifes . 1. And to the Iustices . 4. This strange ! 3. And sauours of the Diuell , strongly ! 2. I' ha' the sulphure of Hell-coale i' my nose . 1. Fough . SHA. Carry him in . 1. Away . 2. How ranke it is !
ACT. V. SCENE . VIII . Sir POVLE . MERE-CRAFT . EVER-ILL . TRAINES . PITFALL . FITZ-DOTTREL . To them WITTIPOL . MANLY. Mistresse FITZ-DOTTREL . INGINE. To them GVILT-HEAD . SLEDGE . to them SHACKLES . The Iustice comes out wandring and the rest informing him . THis was the notablest Conspiracy , That ere I heard of . MER. Sir , They had giu'n him potions , That did enamour him on the counterfeit Lady — EVE . Iust to the time o' deliuery o' the deed — MER. And then the witchcraft 'gan 't' appeare , for streight He fell into his fit . EVE . Of rage at first , Sir , Which since has so increased . TAY. Good Sr. Poule , see him , And punish the impostors . POV. Therefore I come , Madame . EIT. Let Mr Etherside alone , Madame . POV. Do you heare ? Call in the Constable , I will haue him by : H' is the Kings Officer ! and some Cittizens , Of credit ! I 'll discharge my conscience clearly . MER. Yes , Sir , and send for his wife . EVE . And the two Sorcerers , By any meanes ! TAY. I thought one a true Lady , I should be sworne . So did you , Eyther-side ? EIT. Yes , by that light , would I might ne'r stir else , Tailbush . TAY. And the other a ciuill Gentleman . EVE . But , Madame , You know what I told your Ladyship . TAY. I now see it : I was prouiding of a banquet for 'hem . After I had done instructing o' the fellow De-uile , the Gentlemans man MER. Who 's found a thiefe , Madam . And to haue rob'd your Vsher , Master Ambler , This morning . TAY. How ? MER. I 'll tell you more , anon . He beginnes his fit . FIT. Gi me some garlicke , garlicke , garlicke , garlicke . MER. Harke the poore Gentleman , how he is tormented ! FIT. My wife is a whore , I 'll kisse her no more : and why ? Ma'st not thou be a Cuckold , as well as I ? Ha , ha , ha , ha , ha , ha , ha , ha , &c. POV. That is the Diuell speakes , and laughes in him . MER. Do you thinke so , Sr. POV. I discharge my conscience . The Iustice interpret all : FIT. And is not the Diuell good company ? Yes , wis . EVE . How he changes , Sir , his voyce ! FIT. And a Cuckold is Where ere hee put his head , with a a Wanion , If his hornes be forth , the Diuells companion ! Looke , looke , looke , else . MER. How he foames ! EVE . And swells ! TAY. O , me ! what 's that there , rises in his belly ! EIT. A strange thing ! hold it downe : TRA. PIT . We cannot , Madam . POV. 'T is too apparent this ! FIT. Wittipol , Wittipol . WIT. How now , what play ha' we here . MAN . What fine , new matters ? Wittipol , and Manly . and Mistr . Fitz-dottrel enter . WIT. The Cockscomb , and the Couerlet . MER. O strang impudēce ! That these should come to face their sinne ! EVE : And out-face Iustice , they are the parties , Sir . POV. Say nothing . MER. Did you marke , Sir , vpon their comming in , How he call'd Wittipol . EVE . And neuer saw 'hem . POV. I warrant you did I , let 'hem play a while . FIT. Buz , buz , buz , buz . TAY. Lasse poore Gentleman ! How he is tortur'd ! Mrs. FI. Fie , Master Fitz-dottrel ! What doe you meane to counterfait thus ? FIT : O , ô , His wife goes to him . Shee comes with a needle , and thrusts it in , Shee pulls out that , and shee puts in a pinne , And now , and now , I doe not know how , nor where , But shee pricks mee heere , and shee pricks me there : ôh , ôh : POV. Woman forbeare . WIT. What , Sr ? POV. A practice foule For one so faire : WIT. Hath this , then , credit with you ? MAN . Do you beleeue in 't ? POV. Gentlemen , I 'll discharge My conscience . 'T is a cleare conspiracy ! A darke , and diuellish practice ! I detest it ! WIT. The Iustice sure will proue the merrier man ! MAN . This is most strange , Sir ! POV. Come not to confront Authority with impudence : I tell you , I doe detest it . Here comes the Kings Constable , And with him a right worshipfull Commoner ; My good friend , Master Guilt-head ! I am glad I can before such witnesses , professe My conscience , and my detestation of it . Horible ! most vnaturall ! Abominable ! EVE . They whisper him . You doe not tumble enough . MER. Wallow , gnash : TAY. O , how he is vexed ! POV. 'T is too manifest . EVE . Giue him more soap to foame with , now lie still . MER. and giue him soape to act with . And act a little . TAY. What do's he now , Sr. POV. Shew The taking of Tabacco , with which the Diuell Is so delighted . FIT. Hum ! POV. And calls for Hum. You takers of strong Waters , and Tabacco , Marke this . FIT. Yellow , yellow , yellow , yellow , &c. POV. That 's Starch ! the Diuells Idoll of that colour . He ratifies it , with clapping of his hands . The proofes are pregnant . GVI. How the Diuel can act ! POV. He is the Master of Players ! Master Guilt-head , And Poets , too ! you heard him talke in rime ! I had forgot to obserue it to you , ere while ! TAY. Sir Poule interprets Figgum to be a Iuglers game . See , he spits fire . POV. O no , he plaies at Figgum , The Diuell is the Author of wicked Figgum — MAN . Why speake you not vnto him ? WIT. If I had All innocence of man to be indanger'd , And he could saue , or ruine it : I 'ld not breath A syllable in request , to such a foole , He makes himelfe . FIT. O they whisper , whisper , whisper . Wee shall haue more , of Diuells a score , To come to dinner , in mee the sinner . EYT. Alas , poore Gentleman ! POV. Put 'hem asunder . Keepe 'hem one from the other . MAN . Are you phrenticke , Sir , Or what graue dotage moues you , to take part With so much villany ? wee are not afraid Either of law , or triall ; let vs be Examin'd what our ends were , what the meanes ? To worke by ; and possibility of those meanes . Doe not conclude against vs , ere you heare vs. POV. I will not heare you , yet I will conclude Out of the circumstances . MAN . Will you so , Sir ? POV. Yes , they are palpable : MAN . Not as your folly : POV : I will discharge my conscience , and doe all To the Meridian of Iustice : GVI. You doe well , Sir . FIT. Prouide mee to eat , three or foure dishes o' good meat , I 'll feast them , and their traines , a Iustice head and braines Shall be the first . POV. The Diuell loues not Iustice , There you may see . FIT. A spare-rib o' my wife , And a whores purt'nance ! a Guilt-head whole . POV. Be not you troubled , Sir , the Diuell speakes it . FIT. Yes , wis , Knight , shite , Poule , Ioule , owle , foule , troule , boule . POV. Crambe , another of the Diuell 's games ! MER. Speake , Sir , some Greeke , if you can . Is not the Iustice A solemne gamester ? EVE . Peace . FIT. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . POV. Hee curses In Greeke , I thinke . EVE . Your Spanish , that I taught you . FIT. Quebrémos elojo de burlas , EVE . How ? your rest — Let 's breake his necke in iest , the Diuell saies , FIT. Di grátia , Signòr miose haúcte denári fataméne parte . MER. What , would the Diuell borrow money ? FIT. Ouy , Ouy Monsieur , ùn pàuure Diable ! Diablet in ! POV. It is the diuell , by his seuerall languages . Enter the Keeper of New-gate . SHA. Where 's Sr. Poule Ether-side ? POV. Here , what 's the matter ? SHA. O! such an accident falne out at Newgate , Sir : A great piece of the prison is rent downe ! The Diuell has beene there , Sir , in the body — Of the young Cut-purse , was hang'd out this morning , But , in new clothes , Sir , euery one of vs know him . These things were found in his pocket . AMB. Those are mine , Sr. SHA. I thinke he was commited on your charge , Sir . For a new felony AMB. Yes . SHA. Hee 's gone , Sir , now , And left vs the dead body . But withall , Sir , Such an infernall stincke , and steame behinde , You cannot see St. Pulchars Steeple , yet . They smell 't as farre as Ware , as the wind lies , By this time , sure . FIT. Is this vpon your credit , friend ? Fitz-dottrel leaues counterfaiting . SHA. Sir , you may see , and satisfie your selfe . FIT. Nay , then , 't is time to leaue off counterfeiting . Sir I am not bewitch'd , nor haue a Diuell : No more then you . I doe defie him , I , And did abuse you . These two Gentlemen Put me vpon it . ( I haue faith against him ) They taught me all my tricks . I will tell truth , And shame the Feind . See , here , Sir , are my bellowes , And my false belly , and my Mouse , and all That should ha' come forth ? MAN . Sir , are not you asham'd Now of your solemne , serious vanity ? POV. I will make honorable amends to truth . FIT. And so will I. But these are Coozeners , still ; And ha' my land , as plotters , with my wife : Who , though she be not a witch , is worse , a whore . MAN . Sir , you belie her . She is chaste , and vertuous , And we are honest . I doe know no glory A man should hope , by venting his owne follyes , But you 'll still be an Asse , in spight of prouidence . Please you goe in , Sir , and heare truths , then iudge 'hem : And make amends for your late rashnesse ; when , You shall but heare the paines and care was taken , To saue this foole from ruine ( his Grace of Drown'd-land ) FIT. My land is drown'd indeed — POV. Peace . MAN . And how much His modest and too worthy wife hath suffer'd By mis-construction , from him , you will blush , First , for your owne beliefe , more for his actions ! His land is his : and neuer , by my friend , Or by my selfe , meant to another vse , But for her succours , who hath equall right . If any other had worse counsells in 't , ( I know I speake to those can apprehend mee ) Let 'hem repent 'hem , and be not detected . It is not manly to take ioy , or pride In humane errours ( wee doe all ill things , They doe 'hem worst that loue 'hem , and dwell there , Till the plague comes ) The few that haue the seeds Of goodnesse left , will sooner make their way To a true life , by shame , then punishment .
The End .
The Epilogue . THus , the Proiecter , here , is ouer-throwne . But I haue now a Proiect of mine owne , If it may passe : that no man would inuite The Poet from vs , to sup forth to night , If the play please . If it displeasant be , We doe presume , that no man will : nor wee .
CHRISTMAS , HIS MASQUE ; AS IT WAS PRESENTED AT COVRT . 1616. Enter Christmas with two or three of the Guard . HE is attir'd in round Hose , long Stockings , a close Doublet , a high crownd Hat with a Broach , a long thin beard , a Truncheon , little Ruffes , white Shoes , his Scarffes , and Garters tyed crosse , and his Drum beaten before him .

WHy Gentlemen , doe you know what you doe ? ha ! would you ha' kept me out ? Christmas , old Christmas ? Christmas of London , and Captaine Christmas ? Pray you let me be brought before my Lord Chamberlaine , i 'le not be answer'd else : 't is merrie in hall when beards wag all : I ha' seene the time you ha' wish'd for me , for a merry Christmas , and now you ha' me ; they would not let me in : I must come another time ! a good jeast , as if I could come more then once a yeare ; why , I am no dangerous person , and so I told my friends , o' the Guard . I am old Gregorie Christmas still , and though I come out of Popes-head-alley as good a Protestant , as any i' my Parish . The troth is , I ha' brought a Masque here , out o' the Citie , o' my owne making , and doe present it by a sett of my Sonnes , that come out of the Lanes of London , good dancing boyes all : It was intended I confesse for Curryers Hall , but because the weather has beene open , and the Livory were not at leisure to see it till a frost came that they cannot worke . I thought it convenient , with some little alterations , and the Groome of the Revells hand to 't , to fit it for a higher place , which I have done ; and though I say it , another manner of devise then your New yeares night . Bones o' bread , the King ! Sonne Rowland , Son Clem , be ready there in a trice ; quicke , Boyes .

Enter his Sonnes and Daughters being ten in number , led in , in a string by Cupid , who is attir'd in a flat Cap , and a Prentises Coat , with wings at his shoulders .

The names of his Children , with their attyres . IN a velvet Cap with a Sprig , a short Cloake , great yellow Ruffe like a Reveller , his Torch-bearer bearing a Rope , a Cheese and a Basket , A Long tawny Coat , with a red Cap , and a Flute at his girdle , his Torch-bearer carrying a Song booke open . LIke a fine Cookes Wife , drest neat ; her Man carrying a ITEMie , Dish , and Spoones . LIke a Tumbler , with a hoope and Bells ; his Torch-bearer arm'd with a Cole-staffe , and a blinding cloth . WIth a paire-Royall of Aces in his Hat ; his Garment all done over with ITEMayres , and ITEMurrs ; his Squier carrying a Box , Gards , and Counters . IN a blew Coat , serving-man like , with an Orange , and a sprig of Rosemarie guilt on his head , his Hat full of Broaches , with a coller of Gingerbread , his Torch-bearer carrying a March-paine , with a bottle of wine on either arme . IN a Masquing pied suite , with a Visor , his Torch-bearer carrring the Boxe , and ringing it . LIke a neat Sempster , and Songster ; her ITEMage bearing a browne bowle , drest with Ribbands , and Rosemarie before her . IN a short gowne , with a ITEMorters staffe in his hand ; a Wyth borne before him , and a Bason by his Torch-bearer . DRest like a Boy , in a fine long Coat , Biggin , Bib , Muckender , and a little Dagger ; his Vsher bearing a great Cake with a Beane , and a ITEMease .

They enter singing . NOw God preserve , as you well doe deserve , your Majesties all , two there ; Your Highnesse small , with my good Lords all , and Ladies , how doe you do there ? Gi' me leave to aske , for I bring you a Masque from little little little little London ; Which say the KING likes , I ha'passed the Pikes , if not , old Christmas is undone . CHR.

A' peace , what s the matter there ?

GAMB.

Here 's one , o' Friday street would come in .

CHR.

By no meanes , nor out of neither of the Fishstreets , admit not a man ; they are not Christmas creatures : Fish , and fasting dayes , foh ! Sonnes , sayd I well ? looke too 't .

GAMB.

No bodie out o' Friday-street , nor the two Fish-streets there ; doe yo heare ?

CAROL .

Shall John Butter o' Milke-street come in ? aske him .

GAMB.

Yes , he may slip in for a Torch-bearer , so he melt not too fast , that he will last till the Masque be done .

CHR.

Right Sonne .

Sing agen . OVr Dances freight , is a matter of eight , and two , the which are Wenches ; In all they be ten , foure Cockes to a Hen , and will swim to the tune like Tenches . Each hath his knight , for to carry his light , which some would say are Torches ; To bring them here , and to lead them there , and home againe to their owne porches . Now their intent — Enter Venus , a deafe Tire-woman . VEN.

Now , all the Lords blesse me , where am I tro ? where is Cupid : serve the King ? they may serve the Cobler well enough , some of 'em , for any courtesie they have y'wisse ; they ha' need o' mending : unrude people they are , your Courtiers , here was thrust upon thrust indeed ! was it ever so hard to get in before , tro ?

CHR.

How now ? what 's the matter ?

VEN.

A place forsooth , I do want a place ; I would have a good place to see my Child act in before the KING , and QUENES Majesties ( God blesse 'em ) to night .

CHR.

Why , here is no place for you .

VEN.

Right forsooth , I am Cupids Mother , Cupids owne Mother : forsooth ; yes forsooth : I dwell in pudding-lane ; I forsooth , he is Prentise in Love-lane with a Bugle-maker , that makes of your Bobs , and Bird-bolts for Ladies ,

CHR.

Good Lady Venus of Pudding-lane , you must go out for all this .

VEN.

Yes forsooth , I can sit any where , so I may see Cupid act ; hee is a pretty Child , though I say it that perhaps should not , you will say : I had him by my first Husband , he was a Smith forsooth , we dwelt in Doe-little lane then , he came a moneth before his time , and that may make him somewhat imperfect : But I was a Fishmongers daughter .

CHR.

No matter for your Pedigree , your house ; good Venus will you depart ?

VEN.

I forsooth , he 'le say his part I warrant him , as well as ere a Play boy of 'em all : I could ha' had money enough for him , an I would ha beene tempted , and ha' let him out by the weeke , to the Kings Players : Master Burbadge has beene about and about with me ; and so has old Mr. Hemings too , they ha' need of him , where is he tro'a ? I would faine see him , pray God they have given him some drinke since he came .

CHRIST .

Are you readie Boyes ? strike up , nothing will drown this noise but a Drum : a' peace , yet , I ha' not done

Sing — Now their intent , is above to present — CAROL .

Why ? here be halfe of the properties forgotten , Father .

OFFERING .

Post and Paire wants his pur-chops , and his pur-dogs .

CAROL .

Ha' you nere a Son at the Groom-Porters to beg , or borrow a paire of Cards quickly ?

GAMB.

It shall not need , heer 's your Son Chrater without ; has Cards in his pocket .

OFFERING .

Odds so ; speake to the Guard to let him in , under the name of a propertie .

GAMB.

And heer 's New-yeares-gift h'as an Orenge , and Rosmarie , but not a clove to sticke in 't .

NEW-YEER .

Why , let one go to the Spicery .

CHR.

Fie , fie , fie ; it 's naught , it 's naught boyes .

VEN.

Why , I have cloves , if it be cloves you want , I have cloves in my purse , I never goe without one in my mouth .

CAROL .

And Mumming , has not his vizard neither .

CHR.

No matter , his owne face shall serve for a punishment , and 't is bad enough ; has Wassell her boule , and Mince-pie her spoones ?

OFFER .

I , I ; but Mis-rule doth not like his suite : he saies the Players have lent him one too little , on purpose to disgrace him .

CHR.

Let him hold his peace , and his disgrace will bee the lesse : what ? shall wee proclaime where wee were furnisht ? Mum ! Mum ! a' peace , be readie good Boyes .

Sings agen . Now their intent , is above to present with all the appurtenances A right Christmas , as of old it was , to be gathered out of the Dances . Which they doe bring , and afore the King , the Queene , and Prince , as it were now Drawne here by Love ; who , over and above , doth draw himselfe i' the geere too . Here the Drum , and Fife sounds , and they march about once ; at the second comming up he proceeds in his song . Hum drum , sauce for a Coney ; no more of your Martiall musicke : Even for the sake , o' the next new stake , for there I doe meane to use it . And now to yee , who in place are to see , with Roll and Farthingale hooped : I pray you know , though he want his bow by the wings , that this is Cupid . He might goe backe , for to cry what you lack , but that were not so wittie : His Cap , and Coat , are enough to note that he is the Love o' the Cittie . And he leades on , though he now begon , for that was onely his-rule : But now comes in , Tom of Bosomes Inne , and he presenteth Mis-rule . Which you may know , by the very show , albeit you never aske it : For there you may see what his Ensignes bee , the Rope , the Cheese , and the Basket . This Carol plaies , and has beene in his dayes a chirping boy , and a kill pot : Kit Cobler it is , I 'me a Father of his , and he dwells in the lane , cal'd Fil-pot . But who is this ? O' my daughter Sis Mince-pie , with her doe not dally On paine o' your life : She 's an honest Cooks wife , and comes out of Scalding-Alley . Next in the trace , comes Gambol in place , and to make my tale the shorter : My Sonne Hercules , tane , out of Distaffe-lane but an active man , and a Porter . Now Post and Paire , old Christmasses heire doth make , and a gingling Sally : And wott you who , t' is one of my two Sons , Cardmakers in Pur-alley . Next in a trice , with his boxe and his Dice , Mac-pippin my Son , but younger , Brings Mumming in ; and the knave will win , for a' is a Costermonger . But New-yeares-gift , of himselfe makes shift to tell you what his name is : With Orenge on head , and his Gingerbread , Clem Waspe of Honey-lane ' t is . This I you tell , is our jolly Wassell , and for Twelfe-night more meet too : She workes by the Ell , and her name is Nell , and she dwells in Thred-needle-street too . Then Offering he , with his Dish , and his Tree , that in every great house keepeth ; Is by my Sonne , young Little-worth done , and in Penny-rich-street he sleepeth . Last , Baby-cake , that an end doth make of Christmas merrie , merrie vaine a Is Child Rowlan , and a straight young man , though he come out of Crooked-lane ' a. There should have beene , and a dozen I wene , but I could finde but one more ; Child of Christmas , and a Logge it was , when I them all had gone ore . I pray'd him , in a time so trim , that he would make one to praunce it : And I my selfe , would have beene the twelfe , o' hut Log was to heavie to dance it . Now Cupid come you on . CVPID . You worthie wights , King , Lords , and Knights , or Queene , and Ladies bright : Cupid invites , you to the sights he shall present to night . VEN.

T is a good child , speake out , hold up your head Love .

CVPID .

And which Cupid — and which Cupid , &c.

VEN.

Do not shake so Robin , if thou beest a'cold , I ha' some warme waters for thee , here .

CHR.

Come , you put Robin Cupid out with your waters , and your fisling ; will you be gone ?

VEN.

I forsooth ; hee 's a child , you must conceive , and must be us'd tenderly ; he was never in such an assembly before forsooth , but once at Warmoll Quest , forsooth , where he sayd grace as prettily as any of the Sheriffes Hinch-boyes forsooth .

CHR.

Will you peace , forsooth ?

CVPID .

And which Cupid , and which Cupid , &c.

VEN.

I that 's a good boy , speake plaine , Robin : how does his Majestie like him , I pray ? will he give eight pence a day thinke you ? speak out Robin .

CHR.

Nay , he is out enough , you may take him away , and begin your Dance ; this it is to have speeches .

VEN.

You wrong the Child , you doe wrong the Infant ; I' peale to his Majestie .

Here they Dance . CHR.

Well done Boyes , my fine Boyes , my bully Boyes .

Sings agen . The Epilogue . NOr doe you thinke that their legges is all the commendation of my Sons , For at the Artillery-Garden they shall as well ( forsooth ) use their Guns . And march as fine , as the Muses nine , along the streets of London : And i' their brave tires , to gi'their false fires , especially Tom my Son . Now if the Lanes and the Allyes afford , such an ac-ativitie as this : At Christmas next , if they keepe their word , can the children of Cheapside misse ? Though , put the case , when they come in place , they should not dance , but hop : Their very gold lace , with their silke would'em grace , having so many knights , o' the Shop ! But were I so wise , I might seeme to advise so great a Potentate as your selfe : They should Sir , I tell yee , spar't out o' their bellie , and this way spend some of their pelfe . I , and come to the Court , for to make you some sport , at the least once every yeare : As Christmas hath done , with his seventh or eigth Son , and his couple of Daughters deare .
The End .

A Masque PRESENTED IN THE HOUSE OF THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE LORD HAYE .

BY DIVERS OF NOBLE QVALITY , HIS FRIENDS .

FOR THE ENTERTAINment of Monsieur LE BARON DE TOVR , extraordinarie Ambassadour for the FRENCH KING .

On Saturday the 22. of FEBRVARY , 1617.

MART.

Quid titulum poscis ? Versus duo trésve legantur .

1617.

THE FRONT BEFORE THE SCENE , was an Arch-Triumphall . On the top of which , HVMANITIE placed in figure , sate with her lap full of flowers , scattering them with her right hand ; and holding a golden chaine in her left hand : to shew both the freedome , and the bond of Courtesie , with this inscription . SVPER OMNIA VULTVS . her servants . On the two sides of the Arch CHEEREFVLNES , and READINES ,

CHEEREFVLNES , in a loose flowing garment , filling out wine from an antique piece of plate ; with this word Adsit laetitiae dator .

READINES , a winged Mayd , with two flaming bright lights in her hands ; and her word . Amor addidit alas .

The Scene discovered , is ( on the one side ) the head of a Boate , and in it CHARON putting off from the shore , having landed certaine imagined ghosts , whom MERCVRY there receives , and encourageth to come on towards the River LETHE , who appeares lying in the person of an old man . The FATES sitting by him on his banke ; a grove of myrtles behinde them , presented in perspective , and growing thicker to the outer side of the Scene . MERCVRY , perceiving them to faint , calls them on , and shews them his golden rod. And the whole Maske was sung ( after the Italian manner ) Stylo recitativo , by Master Nicholas Lanier ; who ordered and made both the Scene , and the Musicke . MERCVRY . NAy , faint not now , so neere the fields of rest . Here no more furies , no more torments dwell , Then each hath felt alreadie in his brest ; Who hath beene once in love , hath prov'd his Hell . Up then , and follow this my golden rod , That points you next to aged LETHES shore , Who poures his waters from his urne abroad , Of which but tasting , you shall faint no more . LETHE . Stay , who , or what phantastique shades are these That HERMES leades ? MERCVRY . They are the gentle formes , Of Lovers , tost upon those frantique seas , Whence VENVS sprung . LETHE . And have rid out her storms ? MERCVRY . No. LETHE . Did they perish ? MERCVRY . Yes . LETHE . How ? MERCVRY . Drown'd by love , That drew them forth with hopes as smooth as were Th' unfaithfull waters he desir'd them prove . LETHE . And turn'd a tempest , when he had them there ? MERCVRY . He did , and on the billow would he roule , And laugh to see one throw his heart away , Another sighing , vapour forth his soule , A third , to melt himselfe in teares , and say , O Love , I now to salter water turne Then that I die in ; then , a fourth , to crie Amid the surges ; oh ! I burne , I burne : A fift , laugh out , it is my ghost , not I. And thus in paires I found'hem . Onely one There is , that walkes , and stops , and shakes his head , And shuns the rest , as glad to be alone , And whispers to himselfe , he is not dead . FATES . No more are all the rest . MERCVRY . No : 1. FATE . No. MERCVRY . But , why Proceeds this doubtfull voyce from destiny ? FATES . It is too sure . MERCVRY . Sure ? 2. FATE . I. Thinkes MERCVRY , That any things , or names on earth doe die , That are obscur'd from knowledge of the FATES , Who keepe all rolls ? 3. FATE . And know all natures dates ? MERCVRY . They say themselves , th' are dead . 1. FATE . It not appeares . Or , by our rocke . 2. FATE . Our spindle . 3. FATE . Or our sheeres . FATES . Here all their threds are growing , yet none cut . MERCVRY . I'gin to doubt , that Love with charmes hath put This phant'sie in'hem ; and they onely thinke That they are ghosts . FATE . If so , then let 'hem drinke Of LETHES streame . FATE . 'T will make 'hem to forget LOVES name . FATE . And so , they may recover yet ! MERCVRY . Doe , bow unto the reverend lake : And having touch'd there ; up , and shake The shadowes off , which yet doe make Us you , and you your-selves mistake . Here they all stoope to the water , and dance forth their Antimasque in severall gestures , as they liv'd in love : And retyring into the Grove , before the last person be off the Stage ; the first couple appeare in their posture between the trees , readie to come forth , changed . MERCVRY . See! see ! they are themselves agen ! 1. FATE . Yes , now the' are substances , and men . 2. FATE . LOVE , at the name of LETHE flyes . LETHE . For , in oblivion drown'd , he dyes . 3. FATE . He must not hope , though other states He oft subdue , he can the FATES . FATES . 'T were insolence , to thinke his powres Can worke on us ; or equall ours . CHORVS . REturne , Returne , Like lights to burne On earth , For others good : Your second birth Will fame old LETHES flood , And warne a world , That now are hoorld About in tempest , how they prove Shadowes for Love . Leape forth : your light it is the nobler made , By being strooke out of a shade . Here they dance forth their entrie , or first dance : after which CVPID — appearing , meets them . WHy , now you take me ! these are rites That grace Loves dayes , and crowne his nights ! These are the motions , I would see , And praise , in them that follow mee ! Not sighes , nor tears , nor wounded hearts , Nor flames , nor ghosts : but ayrie parts Try'd , and refin'd as yours have bin , And such they are , I glory in MERCVRY . Looke , looke unto this snakie rod , And stop your eares , against the charming god ; His every word , falls from him , is a snare : Who have so lately knowne him , should beware . Here they Dance their maine dance , which ended , CVPID . Come , doe not call it CVPIDS crime , You were thought dead before your time . If thus you move to HERMES will Alone ; you will be thought so still . Goe , take the Ladies forth , and talke , And touch , and taste too : Ghosts can walke . 'Twixt eyes , tongues , hands , the mutuall strife Is bred , that tries the truth of life . They doe , indeed , like dead men move , That thinke they live , and not in love ! Here they take forth the Ladyes , and the Revells follow : after which , MERCVRY . Nay , you should never have left off : But stay'd , and heard your CVPID scoff , To finde you in the line you were . CVPID . Your too much wit , breeds too much feare . MERCVRY . Good Flie , good night . CVPID . But will you go ? Can you leave LOVE , and he intreat you so ? Here , take my quiver , and my bow , My torches too ; that you , by all , may know I meane no danger to your stay : This night , I will create my holiday , And be yours naked , and entire . MERCVRY . As if that LOVE , dis-arm'd , were lesse a fire ? Away , away . They Dance their going out : which done , MERCVRY . Yet lest that VENVS wanton Sonne , Should with the world , be quite undone , For your faire sakes ( you brighter starres , Who have beheld these civill warres . ) FATE is content , these Lovers here Remaine still such : so LOVE will sweare Never to force them act to doo , But what he will call HERMES too . CVPID . I sweare : and with like cause thanke MERCVRY , As these have , to thanke him , and destiny . CHORVS . All then take cause of joy : for who hath not ? Old LETHE , that their follies are forgot ; We , that their lives unto their fates they fit : They , that they still shall love , and love with wit .
The End .
THE VISION OF DELIGHT PRESENTED AT COVRT IN CHRISTMAS , 1617. THE SCENE . A Street in perspective of faire building discovered . DELIGHT Is seene to come as afarre off , accompanied with Grace , Love , Harmonie , Revell , Sport , Laughter . WONDER following . DELIGHT spake in song ( stylo recitativo . ) Let us play , and dance , and sing , let us now turne every sort ; O' the pleasures of the Spring , to the graces of a Court. From ayre , from cloud , from dreams , from toyes , to sounds , to sence , to love to joyes ; Let your shewes be new , as strange , let them oft and sweetly varie ; Let them haste so to their change , as the Seers may not tarrie ; Too long t' expect the pleasing 't sight doth take away from the delight . Here the first Anti-maske enter'd . A she Monster delivered of sixe Burratines , that dance with sixe Pantalones , which done DELIGHT , spoke againe . Yet heare what your delight doth pray all sowre and sullen looks away , that are the servants of the day , Our sports are of the humorous night , Who feeds the stars that give her light , and useth ( then her wont ) more bright , to help the vision of DELIGHT . Here the Night rises , and tooke her Chariot be spangled with starres . DELIGHT , proceeds . See , see her Scepter , and her Crowne are all of flame , and from her gowne a traine of light comes waving down . This night in dew she will not steepe The braine , nor locke the sence in sleepe ; but all awake , with Phantomes keepe , and those to make DELIGHT more deep . By this time the Night , and Moone being both risen ; Night hovering over the place , Sung Breake Phant'sie from thy cave of cloud , and spread thy purple wings ; Now all thy figures are allow'd , and various shapes of things ; Create of ayrie formes , a streame ; it must have bloud , and naught of fleame , And though it be a waking dreame ; The Quire Yet let it like an odour rise to all the Sences here , And fall like sleep upon their eies , or musick in their eare . The Scene here changed to Cloud , and Phant'sie breaking forth , spake . Bright Night , I obey thee , and am come at thy call But it is no one dreame that can please these all ; Wherefore I would know what Dreames would delight'em ; For never was Phant'sie more loth to affright'em . And Phant'sie I tell you has dreams that have wings , And dreams that have honey , and dreams that have stings ; Dreames of the maker , and Dreames of the teller , Dreames of the kitchin , and Dreames of the Cellar : Some that are tall , and some that are Dwarffes , Some that were halter'd , and some that weare scarffes ; Some that are proper , and signifie o' thing , And some another , and some that are nothing : For say the French Verdingale , and the French hood Were here to dispute ; must it be understood A feather , for a wispe were a fit moderator ? Your Ostritch beleeve it 's no faithfull translator Of perfect Utopian ; And then it were an od-piece To see the conclusion peepe forth at a cod-piece . The politique pudding hath still his two ends , Tho the bellows , and the bag-pipe were nev'r so good friends : And who can report what offence it would be For the Squirrell to see a Dog clime a tree ? If a Dreame should come in now to make you afeard , With a Windmill on his head , and bells at his beard ; Would you streight weare your spectacles , here , at your toes , And your boots o' your browes , and your spurs o' your nose ? Your Whale he will swallow , a hogs-head for a pill ; But the maker o' the mouse-trap , is he that hath skill . And the nature of the Onion , is to draw teares , As well as the Mustard ; peace , pitchers have eares , And Shitlecocks wings , these things doe not mind'em , If the Bell have any sides , the clapper will find 'em : There 's twice so much musicke in beating the tabor , As i' the Stock-fish , and somewhat lesse labour . Yet all this while , no proportion is boasted T'wixt an egge , and an Oxe , though both have been rosted , For grant the most Barbers can play o' the Citterne , Is it requisite a Lawyer should plead to a Ghitterne ? You will say now , the Morris-bells were but bribes To make the hee le forget that ev'r it had kibes ; I say let the wine make nev'r so good jelly , The conscience o' the bottle , is much i' the belly : For why ? doe but take common Councell i' your way , And tell me who 'le then set a bottle of hay Before the old Usurer , and to his horse A slice of salt-butter , perverting the course Of civill societie ? open that gap , And out skip your fleas , foure and twenty at a clap , With a chaine and a trundle-bed following at th' heeles , And will they not cry then , the world runs a wheeles : As for example , a belly , and no face , With the bill of a Shoveler , may here come in place ; The haunches of a Drum , with the feet of a pot , And the tayle of a Kentishman to it ; why not ? Yet would I take the stars to be cruell , If the Crab , and the Ropemaker ever fight duell , On any dependance , be it right , be it wrong , But mum ; a thread may be drawne out too long . Here the second Anti-masque of Phantos'mes came forth , which danced . PHANT'SIE proceeded . Why ? this you will say was phantasticall now , As the Cocke , and the Bull , the Whale , and the Cow ; But vanish away , I have change to present you , And such as I hope will more truly content you : Behold the gold-haird Houre descending here , That keepes the gate of Heaven , and turnes the yeare , Alreadie with her sight , how she doth cheare , And makes another face of things appeare . Here one of the Houres descending , the whole Scene changed to the Bower of Zephyrus , whilst , Peace sung , as followeth Why looke you so , and all turne dumbe ! to see the opener of the New-yeare come ? My presence rather should invite , and ayd , and urge , and call to your delight , The many pleasures that I bring are all of youth , of heate , of life , and spring , And were prepard to warme your blood , not fixe it thus as if your Statutes stood . The Quire we see , we heare , we feele , we taste , we smell the change in every flowre , we onely wish that all could last , and be as new still as the houre . The Song ended . WONDER spake . WONDER must speake , or breake ; what is this ? growes The wealth of Nature here , or Art ? it showes As if Favonius , father of the Spring , Who , in the verdant Meads doth reigne sole king , Had rowsd him here , and shooke his feathers , wet With purple swelling Nectar ? and had let The sweet and fruitfull dew fall on the ground To force out all the flowers that might be found ? Or a Minerva with her needle had Th' enamourd earth with all her riches clad , And made the downie Zephire as he flew Still to be followd with the Springs best hue ? The gaudie Peacocke boasts not in his traine , So many lights and shadowes , nor the raine ▪ Resolving Iris , when the Sun doth court her , Nor purple Phesant while his Aunt doth sporther To heare him crow ; and with a pearched pride Wave his dis-coloured necke , and purple side ? I have not seene the place could more surprize , It looks ( me thinkes ) like one of natures eyes , Or her whole bodie set in art ? behold ! How the Blew-binde weed doth it selfe infold With Honey-suckle , and both these intwine Themselves with Bryonie , and Jessamine , To cast a kinde and odoriferous shade ? PHANT'SIE . How better then they are , are all things made By WONDER ? But a while refresh thine eye , I le put thee to thy oftner , what , and why ? Here ( to a loud musicke ) the Bower opens , and the Maskers discovered , as the glories of the Spring . WONDER againe spake . Thou wilt indeed ; what better change appeares ? Whence is it that the ayre so sudden cleares , And all things in a moment turne so milde , Whose breath or beams , have got proud earth with child , Of all the treasure that great Natur 's worth , And makes her every minute to bring forth ? How comes it Winter is so quite forc't hence , And lockt up under ground ? that every sence Hath severall objects ? Trees have got their heads , The fields their coats ? that now the shining Meads Doe boast the Paunce , the Lillie , and the Rose ; And every flower doth laugh as Zephire blowes ? That Seas are now more even then the Land ? The Rivers runne as smoothed by his hand ; Onely their heads are crisped by his stroake : How plaies the Yeareling with his brow scarce broke Now in the open Grasse ? and frisking Lambs Make wanton Salts about their drie-suckt Dams ; Who to repaire their bags doe rob the fields ? How is 't each bough a severall musicke yeilds ? The lusty Throstle , early Nightingale Accord in tune , though varie in their tale ? The chirping Swallow cald forth by the Sun , And crested Larke doth his division run ? The yellow Bees , the ayre with murmure fill ? The Finches caroll , and the Turtles bill ? Whose power is this ? what God ? PHANT'SIE Behold a King Whose presence maketh this perpetuall Spring , The glories of which Spring grow in that Bower , And are the marks and beauties of his power . To which the Quire answered . T is he , t is he , and no power els That makes all this what Phant'sie tels ; The founts , the flowers , the birds , the Bees , The heards , the flocks , the grasse , the trees , Do all confesse him ; but most These Who call him lord of the foure Seas , King of the lesse and greater Iles , And all those happy when he smiles . Advance , his favour calls you to advance , And do your ( this nights ) homage in a'dance . Here they danced their entry , after which they sung againe . Againe , againe ; you cannot be Of such a true delight too free , Which who once saw would ever see ; And if they could the object prize , Would while it lasts not thinke to rise , But wish their bodies all were eyes . They Danc'd their maine Dance , after which they sung . In curious knots and mazes so The Spring at first was taught to go ; And Zephire , when he came to wooe His Flora , had their motions too , And thence did Venus learne to lead Th' Idalian Braules , and so tread As if the wind , not she did walke ; Nor prest a flower , nor bow'd a stalke . They Danc'd with Ladies , and the whole Revells followed ; after which Aurora appeared ( the Night and Moone ) descended , and this Epilogue followed . I was not wearier where I lay By frozen Tythons side to night , Then I am willing now to stay , And be a part of your delight . But I am urged by the Day , Against my will to bid you come away . The Quire . They yeild to Time , and so must all . As Night to sport , Day doth to action call , Which they the rather doe obey , Because the Morne , with Roses strew's the way . Here they Danc'd their going off , and Ended .
PLEASURE RECONCILED TO VERTVE . A Masque . AS IT WAS PRESENTED AT COVRT BEFORE KING IAMES . 1619. The SCENE was the Mountaine ATLAS .

WHo had his top ending in the figure of an old man , his head and beard all hoary , and frost , as if his shoulders were covered with snow ; the rest Wood , and Rocke . A Grove of Ivie at his feet ; out of which , to a wilde Musicke of Cymbals , Flutes , and Tabers is brought forth , COMVS the God of Cheere , or the Belly , riding in Triumph , his head crownd with Roses , and other flowers , his haire curled : They that waite upon him crownd with Ivie , their Javelins done about with it ; one of them going with Hercules his Boule bare before him , while the rest presented him with this Hymne .

ROome , roome , make roome for the bouncing bellie , First father of sauce , and deviser of jellie ; Prime master of Arts , and the giver of wit , That found out the excellent Engine , the spit ; The plough , and the flaile , the mill , and the hopper , The hutch , and the boulter , the furnace and copper , The oven , the baven , the mawkin , the peele , The harth , and the range , the dogge , and the wheele , He , he first invented the hogshead and tun , The gimlet and vice too , and taught 'em to run , And since with the funnell , and Hippocras bag , H 'as made of himselfe , that now he cries swag ; Which showes though the pleasure be but of foure inches , Yet he is a Weesell , the gullet that pinches Of any delight , and not spares from this backe , What ever to make of the bellie a sacke ! Haile , haile plump paunch , ô the founder of taste , For fresh-meats , or powlder'd , or pickle , or paste , Devourer of broyl'd , back'd , roasted , or sod ; And emptier of cups , be they even or odd ; All which have now made thee so wide i' the waste , As scarce with no pudding thou art to be lac'd , But eating and drinking untill thou dost nod , Thou break'st all thy girdles , and breakst forth a god . To this the Boule-bearer .

DOE you heare my friends ? to whom did you sing all this now ? pardon me onely that I aske you , for I doe not looke for an answere ; He answer my selfe , I know it is now such a time as the Saturnalls for all the World , that every man stands under the eaves of his own hat , and sings what please him ; that 's the right , and the liberty of it . Now you sing of god Comus here the bellie-god ; I say it is well , and I say it is not well : It is well as it is a ballad , and the bellie worthie of it ; I must needes say , and 't were forty yards of ballad more , as much ballad as tripe . But when the bellie is not edyfied by it , it is not well ; for where did you ever read or heare , that the bellie had any eares ? Come never pumpe for an answer , for you are defeated ; Our fellow Hunger there that was as ancient a reteiner to the bellie as any of us , was turned away for being unseasonable , not unreasonable , but unseasonable ; and now is he poore thin-gut , faine to get his living with teaching of Starlings , Mag-pies , Parrots , and Jacke-dawes , those things he would have taught the bellie . Beware of dealing with the bellie , the bellie will not bee talk'd too , especially when he is full ; then there is no venturing upon Venter , he will blow you all up , he will thunder indeed-la : Some in dirision call him the father of farts ; but I say he was the first inventor of great Ordnance , and taught us to discharge them on Festivall dayes , would we had a fit feast for him y'faith , to shew his activity ; I would have something now fetcht in to please his five sences , the throat , or the two sences the eyes : Pardon mee for my two sences , for I that carry Hercules Boule i' the service , may see double by my place ; for I have drunke like a frog to day : I would have a Tun now brought in to dance , and so many bottles about him . Ha! you looke as if you would make a probleme of this ; doe you see ? do you see ? a probleme : why bottles ? and why a tun ? and why a tun ? and why bottles to dance ? I say that men that drinke hard , and serve the bellie in any place of qualitie ( as the joviall Tinkers , or the lusty kindred ) are living measures of drinke , and can transforme themselves , and doe every day to bottles , or tuns when they please : And when they ha' done all they can , they are as I say againe , ( for I thinke I said somewhat like it afore ) but moving measures of drink , and there is a peece i' the Cellar can hold more than all they . This will I make good , if it please our new god but to give a nod , for the bellie doe's all by signes ; and I am all for the bellie , the truest clocke i' the world to goe by .

Here the first Anti-maske , after which HERCVLES . WHat Rites are these ? breeds earth more monsters yet ? Antaeus scarce is cold : what can beget This store ? ( and stay ) such contraries upon her , Is earth so fruitfull of her owne dishonour ? Or'cause his vice was inhumanitie , Hopes she by vicious hospitalitie To worke an expiation first ? and then ( Helpe vertue ) these are sponges , and not men : Bottles ? meere vessels ? halfe a tun of paunch ? How ? and the other halfe thrust forth in haunch ? Whose feast ? the bellies ? Comus ? and my cup Brought in to fill the drunken Orgies up ? And here abus'd ? that was the crownd reward , Of thirstie Heroes , after labour hard ? Burdens , and shames of nature , perish , die ; ( For yet you never liv'd ) but in the stie Of vice have wallow'd , and in that swines strife Beene buried under the offence of life : Goe reele and fall under the load you make , Till your swollen bowells burst with what you take . Can this be pleasure , to extinguish man ? Or so quite change him in his figure ? can The bellie love his paine ? and be content With no delight but what 's a punishment ? These monsters plague themselves , and fitly too , For they doe suffer ; what , and all the doe , But here must be no shelter , nor no shrowd For such : Sincke Grove , or vanish into cloud . At this the whole Grove vanished , and the whole Musicke was discovered , sitting at the foot of the Mountaine , with Pleasure , and Vertue seated above them . The Quire invited Hercules to rest with this
Song . GReat friend and servant of the good , Let coole a while thy heated blood , And from thy mighty labour cease . Lie downe , lie downe , And give thy troubled spirits peace , Whilst vertue , for whose sake Thou dost this god-like travaile take , May of the choysest herbage make ( Here on this Mountaine bred , ) A crowne , a crowne For thy immortall head .
Here Hercules being layd down at their feet , the second Anti-mask which was of Pigmies , appeared . 1. PIGMIE . ANtaeus dead ! and Hercules yet live ! Where is this Hercules ? what would I give To meet him now ? meet him ? nay , three such other , If they had hand in murther of our brother ? With three ? with foure ? with ten ? nay with as many As the name yeelds ? pray anger there be any Whereon to feed my just revenge , and soone : How shall I kill him ? hurle him 'gainst the Moone , And breake him in small portions ? give to Greece His braine ? and every tract of earth a peece . 2 PIG . He is yonder . 1 Where ? 3 At the hill foot , asleepe . 1 Let one goe steale his club . 2 My charge , I le creepe . 4 He 's ours . 1 Yes , peace . 3 Triumph , we have him boy . 4 Sure , sure , he is sure . 1 Come , let us dance for joy . At the end of their dance they thought to surprise him , when suddenly being awak'd by the musicke , he rowsed himselfe , they all runne into holes .
Song . Wake Hercules , awake ; but heave up thy blacke eye , 'T is onely ask'd from thee to looke , and these will die , Or flie : Already they are fled , Whom scorne had else left dead .
At which Mercury descended from the hill , with a garland of Poplar to crowne him . MERCVRY . REst still thou active friend of vertue ; These Should not disturbe the peace of Hercules . Earths wormes , and Honors dwarfes ( at too great ods ) Prove , or provoke the issue of the gods . See , here a Crowne the aged Hill hath sent thee , My Grand-sire Atlas , he that did present thee With the best sheepe that in his fold were found , Or golden fruit in the Hesperian ground , For rescuing his faire Daughters , then the prey Of a rude Pirate as thou cam'st this way ; And taught thee all the learning of the Sphere , And how like him thou might'st the heavens up-beare ; As that thy labours vertuous recompence He , though a Mountaine now , hath yet the sence Of thanking thee for more , thou being still Constant to goodnesse , guardian of the hill ; Antaeus by thee suffocated here , And the voluptuous Comus god of cheere Beate from his Grove , and that defac'd , but now The time 's arriv'd that Atlas told thee of , how B'unalterd law , and working of the Stars , There should be a cessation of all jars , Twixt Vertue and her noted opposite Pleasure ; that both should meet here in the sight Of Hesperus , the glory of the West , The brightest starre that from his burning crest Lights all on this side the Atlanticke-Seas , As farre as to thy Pillars , Hercules , See where he shines , Justice , and Wisedome plac'd about his throne , and those with honour grac'd Beauty , and Love : It is not with his Brother Bearing the world , but ruling such another Is his renowne , Pleasure , for his delight Is reconcil'd to Vertue , and this night Vertue brings forth , twelve Princes have beene bred In this rough mountaine , and neere Atlas head The hill of knowledge ; one , and chiefe of whom Of the bright race of Hesperus is come , Who shall in time , the same that he is be , And now is onely a lesse light then he ; These now she trusts with Pleasure , and to these She gives an entrance to the Hesperides Faire beauties garden ; neither can she feare They should grow soft , or waxe effeminate here ; Since in her sight , and by her charge all 's done , Pleasure the servant , Vertue looking on . Here the whole Quire of Musicke call'd the twelve Maskers forth from the top of the Mountaine , which then opened with this
Song . OPE aged Atlas , open then thy lappe , And from thy beamy bosome strike a light , That men may read in the mysterious mappe All lines And signes Of royall education , and the right , See how they come and show , That are but borne to know . Descend Descend Though pleasure lead , Feare not to follow : They who are bred Within the Hill Of skill , May safely tread What path they will , No ground of good is hollow .
In their descent from the Hill , Daedalus came downe before them , of whom Hercules questioned Mercury . HERCVLES . BUT Hermes stay , a little let me pause , Who 's this that leads ? MER. A guide that gives them lawes To all their motions , Dedalus the wise ; HER. And doth in sacred harmonie comprise His precepts ? MER. Yes . HER. they may securely prove Then any laborinth , though it be of love . Here while they put themselves in forme , Dedalus had his first Song .
COme on , come on ; and where you go , so interweave the curious knot , As ev'n th' observer scarce may know which lines are Pleasures , and which not : First figure out the doubtfull way , at which a while all youth should stay , Where she and Vertue did contend , which should have Hercules to friend . Then as all actions of mankinde , are but a laborinth , or maze : So let your Dances be entwin'd , yet not perplex men unto gaze ; But measur'd , and so numerous too , as men may read each act they doe ; And when they see the graces meet , admire the wisedome of your feet : For dancing is an exercise , not onely showes the movers wit , But maketh the beholders wise , as he hath power to rise to it . The first Dance . After which Dedalus againe .
Song 2. O More , and more , this was so well , As praise wants halfe his voyce to tell , againe your selves compose , And now put all the aptnesse on , Of figure , that proportion , or colour can disclose . That if those silent Arts were lost , Designe , and picture , they might boast , from you a newer ground , Instructed by the heightning sence Of dignitie and reverence , in their true motions found . Begin , begin ; for looke , the faire Do longing , listen to what ayre you forme your second touch ; That they may vent their murmuring hymnes , Just to the — you move your limbs , and wish their owne were such . Make haste , make hast , for this The laborinth of beautie is . The second Dance . That ended . Dedalus
Song 3. IT followes now you are to prove The subt'lest maze of all , that 's Love , and if you stay too long , The faire will thinke you do 'em wrong : Goe choose among — But with a minde as gentle as the stroaking winde runs ore the gentler flowers . And so let all your actions smile , As if they meant not to beguile , the Ladies but the houres . Grace , laughter , and discourse may meet , and yet the beauty not goe lesse : For what is noble should be sweet , But not dissolv'd in wantonesse . Will you that I give the law to all your sport and some-it , It should be such should envie draw , but — overcome it . Here they Danced with the Ladies , and the whole Revells followed ; which ended , Mercury cald to him in this following speech : which was after repeated in Song by two Trebles , two Tennors , a Base , and the whole Chorus .
Song 4. AN eye of looking backe were well , Or any murmure that would tell Your thoughts , how you were sent , and went To walke with Pleasure , not to dwell . These , these are houres by vertue spar'd Her selfe , she being her owne reward : But she will have you know , that though Her sports be soft , her life is hard : You must returne unto the Hill and their advance With labour , and inhabit still that height and Crowne , From whence you ever may looke downe upon triumphed chance . She , she it is in darknesse shines , 'T is she that still her selfe refines , by her owne light to every eye : More seene , more knowne when vice stands by . And though a stranger here on earth , In Heaven she hath her right of birth : There , there is Vertues seate , Strive to keepe her your own , T is onely she can make you great , Though place here make you knowne .
After which , they Danced their last Dance , returned into the Scene , which closed , and was a Mountaine againe as before . The End .

This pleas'd the KING so well , as he would see it againe , when it was presented with these additions .

FOR THE HONOUR OF WALES . The SCENE standing as before , a Mountaine ; but now the name changed from ATLAS , to CRAIG-ERIRI . Enter Gentlemen . Griffith , Jenkin , Evan , a Welsh Atturney . GRIF.

COssin , I know what belongs to this place sym what petter then you ; and therefore give mee leave to be pold to advise you . ' Is not a small matter to offer your selfe into presence of a king , and aull his Court ? Be not too byssie and forward , till you be caulld , I tauke reason to you .

JEN.

Cym , never tauke any taukes : if the King of gread Prittaine keepe it Assizes here , I will cym into Court : Loog yow , doe you see now , and please Got.

GRI .

Taw , d yn ynbhyd , y , dhwyti-n abl i anabhy , pob peth o th folineb , âgy tyny gwatwar ar dy wlac .

JEN.

Gad vynl Lonyth . I say I will appeare in Court .

EV.

Appeare as yow s'ud doe then , Dab Jenkin in good sort ; do not discredit the nation , and pyt wrong upon us aull by your rassnes .

JEN.

What doe yow caull rassnesse Evan y Gynrn , is not aull the Cyntrie , and aull Welse , and the Prince of Wales too abus'd in him ? by this hand , I will tell it the Kings owne eares every ' oord , doe you see him now ? Blesse your ursip , pray God is in Heaven blesse ever inch of your ursip ; and Wales is comend it to your ursip , from top to toe , with aull his hearts aull over , by got'utch me , and would bee glad as a silling to see yow in him . Come it downe once a day and trie ; I tell yow now , yow s'all be as welcomely there , as where you were in your owne Cyntries last two Symmers , and pershance wee 'll made yow as good s'eere too ; wee le promise your ursip as good a peece of Seeze , as yow need pit in your head , and pleas'yow s'all bee toasted too . Goe too , see him once upon a time your owne sellive , is more good meane you , then is aware of : By got ' is very hard , but s'all make yow a Shestice of Peace the first daies yow come ; and pershance ( say nothing ) Knight o' the S'ire too : ' Is not Worsters , nor Pembrokes , nor Mongymeries s'all carry him from yow . But aull this while s'all I tell you a liddell now ? ' is a great huge deale of anger upon yow , from aull Wales and the Nation ; that your ursippe would suffer our yong Master Sarles your ' ursips Sonne and Heire , and Prince of Wales , the first time he ever play Dance , to be pit up in a Mountaine ( got knowes where ) by a palterly Poet , how doe you say him Evan ?

EVAN.

Libia .

JEN.

Vellhy ! Libia . And how doe you caull him the Mountaine ; his name is

EV.

Adlas .

JEN.

Hynno , hynno . Adlas ? I please your ursip is a Welsse Atturney , and a preddilie schollers , a weare him his long coat , line with Seepes skin , as yow see every daies o' the weeke . A very sufficient litigious fellow 's in the Termes , and a finely Poets out o' the Termes , hee has a sprig of Lawrell already towards his girlonds . He was get in here at Twelfe-night and see aull ; what doe you call it , your matters , and sayes is naught , naught , starke naught .

EV.

I doe say'and't please his Madestee , I doe not like him with aull his heart ; h 'is plugd in by the eares , without all piddies , or mercies of propriedies or decorums . I will doe injuries to no man before his Madestee ; but ' is a very vile and absurd as a man would wisse , that I doe say , to pyt the Prince of Wales in an outlandis Mountaine ; when hee is knowne , his Highnesse has as goodly Mountaines and as tawll a Hills of his owne ( looke yow , do you see now ) and of as good standing , and as good discent , as the prowdest Adlas christned .

JEN.

I good Evan , I pray you reckon his Madestee some of the Welse Hills , the Mountaines .

EV.

Why there is Talgar .

JEN.

Well sayd .

EV.

Eliennieth .

JEN.

Well sayd Evan.

EV.

Cadier Arthur .

JEN.

Toudge him , toudge him .

EV.

Pen-maen-maur .

JEN.

Is good boyes , Evan.

EV.

And Craig-eriri .

JEN.

Aw ? vellhy ? why law you now ? ' Is not Pen-maen-maur , and Craig-Eriri as good sound , as Adlas every whit of him .

EV.

‛ Is caulld the British Aulpes , Craig-Eririri , a very sufficient Hills .

JEN.

By got we will play with him Hills for Hills , for sixteene and forty s'illings when he dares .

EV.

I pray you let it alone your wachers a liddle while Cossin Davy ap Jenkin , and give it leave I may give his Madestee , and the Court informations toudging now the Reformations .

JEN.

Why ? cannot yow and I tauke too Cossin ? the Haull ( God blesse it ) is big inough to hold both our taukes , and we were twice as much as we are .

EV.

Why , tauke it aull then , if you think is reason in you .

JEN.

No ; I know is no reason , Evan , I confes him ; but every man would shew himselve a good subject as he can to his meanes ; I am a subject by my place , and two heads is better then one I imagine under correction .

EV.

Got's ownes , here is no corrections man ; imagine what yow please , doe in got's name , imagine , imagine , why doe you not imagine ? here is no pennyrths of corrections .

GRIF.

Aw dgwin Tawson .

EV.

‛ Is so invincibles , so in mercifullys ignorant , a man knowes not upon what inces of ground to stand to him ; doe's conceive it no more as I am a true Welse christian , then ( sirreverence ' o the cympany ) the-hilts of his dagger .

JEN.

Go too , I will make the hilts conceive a knocke upon your pate , and pershance a bumpe to if yow tauke .

EV.

How ! upon my pate ?

JEN.

Yes upon your pate ; your Poetlie pate , and your Law pate too .

GR.

Tawson , Tawson . Fore'got yow will goe nere to hazard a thumbe , and a fowre finger of your best hand ; if you knocke him here , you may knocke him better s'eape at Ludlow a great deale : do you know the place where it is ?

EV.

Well , I can be patient , I trust , I trust it is in a presence I presume that loves no quarrells , nor replies , nor the lies , nor the shallenge , nor the Duells : but — I will doe my byssinesse now , and make this a byssinesse for another daies hereafter : Pleas ' your Madestee — By got I am out of my tempers terribly well , got forgive me , and pyt me in my selive againe . How doe's your Highnes — I know not a ' oord or a sillable what I say ; ' is doe me that vexations .

GR.

O Evan ; for the honour of Wales .

EV.

I remember him now , ' is inough , blessings upon me ' is out o' my head againe ; lost , quite lost : this knocke , o' my pate has knock aull my wits out o' my braines I thinke , and turne my reasons out of doores . Beleive it I will rub , and breake your s'ins for this , I will not come so high as your head , but I will take your nose in my way , very sufficiently .

JEN.

Hang your sufficiencie .

EV.

'T is well , very well ; t is better , better , exceedingly well .

Howell , and Rheese to them HOW .

What ? — you meane ( hough ) to make us so long tarrie here , ha ?

GR.

Marrie , here is aull undone with distempers me thinkes , and angers , and passions .

RHE.

Who is angry ?

EV.

Why it is I is angry , and hungry too , if you marke me ; I could eate his Flint-seere face now , offer to knock my pate in the hearing of aull these , and more too ? well , before his Madestee I doe yet forgive him now with aull my heart , and will be reveng'd another time .

HOW .

Why that is good Evan , honest brave Evan.

RHE.

Ha' yow told the Kings Madestee of the alterations .

EV.

I am now once againe about him : peace ; please your Madestee , the Welse Nation hearing that the Prince of Wales was to come into the Hills againe , afore your Madestee have a desire of his Highnesse for the honour of Wales , to make him a Welse hills , which is done without any manner of sharshese to your Madestee , onely shanging his name : He is caull now Craig-Eriri , a Mountaine in Carnarvan-Seere ; has as gray beard , and as much snow upon his head aull the yeare long ,

JEN.

As Adlas for his gutts .

EV.

He tells your Madestee true , for aull he is a liddle out of season : but cym every man tell as much as he cannow , my qualitie is I hope sufficiently knowne to his Madestee , that I am Rector Chori is aull my ambitions , and that I would have it aull Welse ; that is the s'ort and the long of the Requests . The Prince of Wales we know is aull over Welse .

JEN.

And then my Lord Marquise .

EV.

Both my Lord Marquise is as good , noble , true Briton , as any ever is come out of Wales .

JEN.

My Lord Mongymerie is as sound Welse too , as flese and blood can make him .

HO.

And the Howard's by got , is Welse as strait as any arrow .

EV.

Houghton is a Towne beare his name there by Pipidiauke .

HO.

And Erwin , his name is Wyn ; but the Duts-men come here in Wales , and caull him Heer-win .

RH .

Then Car is plaine Welse , Caerlton , Caermardin , Cardiffe .

JEN.

And Palmer , his Ancestors was call him Pen-maure .

RH .

And Acmooty , is Ap mouth-wye of Llanmouthwye .

JEN

And Abercromy , is aull one as Abermarlys .

EV.

Or Abertau .

HO.

Or Aberdugled haw .

HO.

Or Abes hodney .

JEN.

Or Abergevenny .

HO.

Or Aber conway .

EV.

Aberconway is very like Abercromy , a liddell hard s'ifte has pit'em aull into Wales ; but our desires and petitions is , that the muisiques be aull Welse , and the dances , and no' Erculus brought in now with a gread staffe , and a pudding upon him .

JEN.

Aw ; was his distaffe , was not his club .

EV.

What need of Ercules , when Cadwallader —

JEN.

Or Lluellin , or Reese ap Griphin , or Cradock , or Owen Glendower , with a Welse hooke , and a Goats skinne on his backe , had done very better , and twice as well ?

EV.

Nay , and to pyt apparrell on a pottell of hay , and caull him Lantaeus .

GR.

The Bellie-gods too , was as proper a monster as the best of 'hem .

EV.

I , stand to it , there was neither Poetries , nor Architectures , nor designes in that bellie-god ; nor a note of musicks about him . Come , bring forth our musickes , yow s'all heare the true Pritan straines now , the ancient Welse Harpe — yow tauke of their Pigmees too , here is a Pigmees of Wales now ; set forth another Pigmees by him !

Two Women , and Musicke to them . 1

WO. Aw Diesus ! what a bravely companie is here ? This 's a finely Haull indeed !

2

What a deale of fine candle it is ?

JEN.

I , peace ; let his Madestee heare the Musicke .

2

Blémae yr Brenin .

JEN.

Docko ve .

1

Diesus blesse'him ; Saint Davy blesse'him . I bring my boy o' my backe ten mile here to loog upon him : Loog Hullin , loog Hullin , spewch humma ven nayd Dumma braveris : yow s'all heare him play too .

EV.

Peace , no more pradling ; begin set him downe .

Song .
Song . 1 EVAN. I 'Is not come here to tauke of Brut , from whence the Welse do's take his root ; Nor tell long pedegree of Prince Camber , whose linage would fill aull this Chamber ; Nor sing the deeds of old Saint Davy , the ursip of which would fill a Navy . But harke yow me now , for a liddell tales s'all make a gread deale to the credit of Wales ; Chorus In which wee 'll toudg your eares , with the praise of her thirteen S'eeres ; And make yow as glad , and merrie as fourteene pot of Perrie . Still , still wee 'll toudg your eares with the praise , &c.
2 Song . HOWELL . T Is true , was weare him Sherkin freize , but what is that ? we have store of s'eize , And Got his plenty of Goats milke that sell him well , will buy him silke Inough to make him fine to quarrell At Hereford-sizes in new apparrell ; And get him as much greene Melmet perhap , s'all give it a face to his Monmouth cap. But then the ore of Lemster , By got is never a Sempster ; That when he is spun , ore did , Yet match him with hir thrid Still , still , &c.
3 Song . RHEESE . AVll this 's the backs now , let us tell yee , of some provisions for the bellie : As Cid , and Goat , and great Goates mother , and Runt , and Cow , and good Cowes Vther . And once but taste o' the Welse-mutton , your Englis-s'eep's not worth a button . And then for your Fiss , s'all shoose it your diss . looke but about , and there is a Trout . A Salmon , Cor , or Chevin , Will feed you six , or seven , As taull man as ever swagger , With Welse-hooke , or long dagger . Still , still , &c.
4 Song . EVAN. BVt aull this while was never thinke a word in praise of our Welse drinke , Yet for aull that , is a cup of Bragat , all England S'eere , may cast his Cab-at . And what you say to Ale of Webley , toudge him as well , you 'll praise him trebly , As well as Metheglin , or Sidar , or Meath , S'all S'ake it your dagger quite out o' the seath . And Oat-cake of Guarthenion , With a goodly Leeke , or Onion , To give as sweet a Rellis As ere did Harper , Ellis . Still , still , &c.
5 Song . HOWELL . ANd yet , is nothing now aull this , if of our Musiques we doe misse ; Both Harpes , and Pipes too ; and the Crowd , must aull come in and tauke alowd , As lowd as Bangu , Davies bell , of which is no doubt yow have here tell , As well as our lowder Wrexham , Organ , and rumbling Rocks in S'eere Glamorgan ; Where looke but in the ground there , And you s'all see a sound there , That put him aull togedder , Is sweet as measure pedder . Still , still , &c.
6 Song . RHEESE . AV , but what say yow should it shance too , that we should leape it in a Dance too , And make it you as great a pleasure , if but your eyes be now at leasure ; As in your eares s'all leave a laughter , to last upon you sixe dayes after ? Ha! wella-goe too , let us try to do as your old Britton , things to be writ on . Come put on other lookes now , And lay away your hookes too ; And though yet you ha' no pump sirs , Let 'hem heare that yow can jump sirs . Still , still , &c.
JEN.

SPeake it your conscience now ; did your Ursip ever see such a song in your daies ; ' is not as finely a tunes as a man would wisse to put in his eares .

EVA .

Come , his Madestee s'all heare better to your Dance .

Here a Dance of men . EV.

Haw , well danc'd , verie well danc'd .

JEN.

Well plaid Howell , well plaid Rheese : Dawharry vellhee ; well danc'd y'faith .

EV.

Good boyes , good boyes ; pold , and Prittan , pold , and Prittan .

After the Dance . JEN.

Is not better this now then Pigmies ? this is men , this is no monsters , and you marke him : Well caull forth you Goates now , your Ursip s'all see a properly naturall devise come from the Welse Mountaines ; Is no Tuns , nor no Bottils : Stand by there , s'ow his ' Ursip the Hills , was dronkenry in his eies that make that devise in my minde . But now , marg , marg your Ursip I pray yow now , and yow s'all see natures and propriedies ; the very beasts of Wales s'all doe more then your men pyt in bottills , and barrills , there was a tale of a tub y'faith . ' Is the Goat-heard and his dog , and his sonne , and his wife make musiques to the Goates as they come from the Hills ; give 'hem roomes , give 'hem roomes , now the cym : The elderly Goates is indifferently grave at first , because of his beard , and onely tread it the measures ; byt yow will see him pyt off his gravities by and by well inough , and friske it as fine as ere a Kid on 'hem aull . The Welse Goate is an excellent dancer by birth , that is written of him , and of as wisely carriage , and comely behaviours a beast ( for his footing especially ) as some one or two man , God blesse him .

EV.

A Haull , a haull ; come a haull , Au vellhee .

Here the Dance of Goates . After the Dance . 1 WO.

Nay , and your Madestee bid the Welse Goats welcome ; The Welse Wen-ces s'all sing your praises , and dance your healths too .

Song . 1 AW , God blesse it our good King S'ames , His Wife , and his S ildren , and aull his Reames , 2 And aull his ' ursipfull S'istice of peace about him , 1 And send that his Court be never without him . 2 Ow , that her would come downe into Wales , 1 Her s'ud be very welcome to Welse Ales. 2 I have a Cow , 1 And I have a hen ; 2 S'all give it milke , 1 And egs for aull his men . CHORVS . ‛ It selfe s'all have venison , and other Seere , And may it be sterved , that steale him his Deere , there , there , and every where .
JEN.

Cym dance now , let us heare your dance , dance .

EV.

Ha! well plaid Ales.

HO.

For the Honour of Wales .

Here was the Dance of men and women . After the Dance . JEN.

DIggon . Inough , inough , Diggon , well now aull the absurdities is remov'd and cleer'd ; the rest and'please your Grace s'all tarrie still , and goe on as it was ; Vertue , and Pleasure was well inough , indifferently well inough : Onely we will intreat Pleasure to cym out of Driffimdore , that is the Gilden Valley , or Gelthleedore , that is the Golden Grove , and is in Care Marden the Welse Garden . ' Is a thousand place in Wales as finely places as the Esperides every crum of him : Merlin was borne there too , put wee would not make him rise now and wake him , because we have his Prophecies alreadie of your Madestee's name to as good purpose , as if he were here in presence , Pod hy geller Evan ?

EV.

You will still pyt your selve to these plunses , you meane his Madestees Anagrams of Charles James Stuart .

JEN.

I that is Claimes Arthurs Seate , which is as much as to say , your Madestee s'ud be the first King of gread Prittan , and sit in Cadier Arthur , which is Arthurs Chaire , as by Gods blessing you doe : And then your Sonne Master S'harles his , how doe you caull him ? is Charles Stuart , cals true hearts , that is us , he cals us , the Welse Nation to be ever at your service , and love you , and honour you , which we pray you understand it his meaning . And that the Musitians yonder , are so many Brittis bards that sing o'pen the Hills to let out the Prince of Wales , and his Welse freinds to you , and all is done .

GR.

Very homely done it is I am well assur'd , if not very rudely : But it is hop'd your Madestee will not interpret the honour , merits , love , and affection of so noble a portion of your people , by the povertie of these who have so imperfectly uttered it : Yow will rather for their saks , who are to come in the name of Wales , my Lord the Prince , and the others ; pardon what is past , and remember the Cyntrie has alwaies been fruitfull of loyall hearts to your Majestie ; a very garden and seed plot of honest mindes and men : What lights of learning hath Wales sent forth for your Schooles ? What industrious Studients of your Lawes ? what able Ministers of your Justice ? whence hath the Crowne in all times better servitors , more liberall of their lives and fortunes ? where hath your Court or Councell ( for the present ) more noble ornaments or better aydes ? I am glad to see it , and to speake it , and though the Nation bee sayd to be unconquer'd , , and most loving liberty , yet it was never mutinous ( and please your Majestie ; ) but stout , valiant , courteous , hospitable , temperate , ingenious , capable of all good Arts , most lovingly constant , charitable , great Antiquaries , Religious preservers of their Gentry , and Genealogie , as they are zealous and knowing in Religion .

In a word , It is a Nation better'd by prosperitie so far , as to the present happinesse it enjoyes under your most sacred Majestie , it wishes nothing to be added , but to see it perpetuall in You , and your Issue .

God of his great goodnesse grant it , and show he is an errant knave , and no true Brittaine doe's not say Amen too with his heart .
NEWES FROM THE NEW WORLD DISCOVER'D IN THE MOONE . A Masque , AS IT WAS PRESENTED AT COVRT BEFORE KING IAMES . 1620. Nascitur è tenebris : & se sibi vindicat Orbis . Enter 1 Herald , 2 Herald , Printer , Chronicler , Factor . 1 HER.

NEwes , newes , newes .

2 HER.

Bold , and brave new !

1 HER.

Newe as the night they are borne in ;

2 HER.

Or the Phant'sie that begot'hem .

1 HER.

Excellent newes !

2 HER.

Will you heare any newes ?

PRINT .

Yes , and thanke you too sir ; what 's the price of 'hem ?

1 HER.

Price , Cocks-combe ! what price , but the price o' your ears ? As if any man used to pay for any thing here .

2 HER.

Come forward , you should be some dull tradesman by your pigheaded Sconce now , that thinke there 's nothing good any where ; but what 's to be sold .

PRIN.

Indeed I am all for sale Gentlemen , you say true , I am a Printer , and a Printer of Newes ; and I doe hearken after 'hem , where ever they be at any rates ; I 'le give any thing for a good Copie now , be 't true or false , so 't be newes .

1 HER.

A fine youth !

CHRO.

And I am for matter of State Gentlemen , by consequence , story , my Chronicle , to fill up my great booke , which must bee three Reame of paper at least ; I have agreed with my Stationer aforehand to make it so big , and I want for ten quire yet . I ha' beene here ever since seven a clocke i' the morning to get matter for one page , and I thinke I have it compleate ; for I have both noted the number , and the capacity of the degrees here ; and told twice over how many candles there are i' th roome lighted , which I will set you downe to a snuffe precisely , because I love to give light to posteritie in the truth of things .

1 HER.

This is a finer youth !

FACT .

Gentlemen , I am neither Printer , nor Chronologer , but one that otherwise take pleasure i' my Pen : A Factor of newes for all the Shieres of England ; I doe write my thousand Letters a weeke ordinary , sometim twelve hundred , and maintaine the businesse at some charge , both to hold up my reputation with mine owne ministers in Towne , and my friends of correspondence in the Countrey ; I have friends of all rancks , and of all Religions , for which I keepe an answering Catalogue of dispatch ; wherein I have my Puritan newes , my Protestant newes , and my Pontificiall newes .

2 HER.

A Superlative this !

FAC.

And I have hope to erect a Staple for newes ere long , whether all shall be brought , and thence againe vented under the name of Staple-newes ; and not trusted to your printed Conundrums of the serpent in Sussex , or the witches bidding the Devill to dinner at Derbie : Newes , that when a man sends them downe to the Shieres where they are said to be done , were never there to be found .

PRIN.

Sir that 's all one , they were made for the common people ; and why should not they ha' their pleasure in beleeving of lies are made for them , as you have in Paules that make 'hem for your selves .

1 HER.

There he speakes reason to you sir .

FAC.

I confesse it , but it is the Printing I am offended at , I would have no newes printed ; for when they are printed they leave to bee newes ; while they are written , though they be false , they remaine newes still .

PRIN.

See mens divers opinions ! It is the Printing of 'hem makes 'hem news to a great many , who will indeed beleeve nothing but what 's in Print . For those I doe keepe my Presses , and so many Pens going to bring forth wholsome relations , which once in halfe a score yeares ( as the age growes forgetfull ) I Print over againe with a new date , and they are of excellent use .

CHRO.

Excellent abuse rather .

PRIN.

Mr. Chronicler doe not you talke , I shall —

1 HER.

Nay Gentlemen , bee at peace one with another ; wee have enough for you all three , if you dare take upon trust .

PRIN.

I dare , I assure you .

FAC.

And I , as much as comes .

CHRO.

I dare too , but nothing so much as I ha' done ; I have beene so cheated with false relations i' my time , as I ha' found it a far harder thing to correct my booke , then collect it .

FA.

Like enough ; but to your newes Gentlemen , whence come they ?

1 HER.

From the Moone , ours sir .

FAC.

From the Moone ! which way ? by sea ? or by Land ?

1 HER.

By Moone-shine , a neerer way I take it .

PR.

Oh by a Trunck ! I know it , a thing no bigger than a Flute-case ; A neighbour of mine , a spectacle-maker , has drawn the Moone through it at the boare of a whistle , and made it as great as a Drum-head twentie times , and brought it within the length of this Roome to me , I know not how often .

CHR.

Tut , that 's no newes ; your perplexive Glasses are common . No , it will fall out to be Pythagoras way I warrant you , by writing , and reading i' th Moone .

PR.

Right , and as well read of you , I'faith : for Cornelius Agrippa has it , In disco Lunae , there t is found .

1 HER.

Sir , you are lost I assure you ; for ours came to you neither by the way of Cornelius Agrippa , nor Cornelius Drible .

2 HER.

Nor any glasse of —

1 HER.

No Philosophers phantasie .

2 HER.

Methematicians Perspicill .

1 HER.

Or brother of the Rosie crosses intilligence , no forc'd way , but by the neat and cleane power of Poetrie ,

2 HER.

The Mistris of all discovery .

1 HER.

Who after a world of these curious uncertainties , hath employed thither a servant of hers in search of truth : who has been there —

2 HER.

In the Moone .

1 HER.

In person .

2 HER.

And is this night return'd .

FAC.

Where ? which is he ? I must see his Dog at his girdle , and the bush of thornes at his backe , ere I beleeve it .

1 HER.

Doe not trouble your faith then , for if that bush of thornes should prove a goodly Grove of Okes ; in what case were you , and your expectation .

2 HER.

Those are stale Ensignes o' the Stages , man i' th Moone , deliverd downe to you by musty Antiquitie , and are of as doubtfull credit as the makers .

CHR.

Sir , nothing againe Antiquitie I pray you , I must not heare ill of Antiquitie .

1 HER.

Oh! you have an old Wife belike , or your venerable Jerkin there , make much of 'hem : Our relation I tell you still is newes .

2 HER.

Certaine , and sure newes .

1 HER.

Of a new World ,

2 HER.

And new creatures in that World .

1 HER.

In the Orbe of the Moone .

2 HER.

Which is now found to be an Earth inhabited !

1 HER.

With navigable Seas , and Rivers .

2 HER.

Varietie of Nations , Polities , Lawes .

1 HER.

With Havens in 't , Castles , and Port-Townes !

2 HER.

In-land Cities , Boroughes , Hamlets , Faires , and Markets !

1 HER.

Hundreds , and Weapontakes ! Forrests , Parks , Coney-ground , Meadow-pasture , what not ?

2 HE.

But differing from ours .

FAC.

And has your Poet brought all this ?

CH.

Troth , here was enough ; t is a pretty piece of Poetrie as'tis .

1 HE.

Would you could heare on , though .

2 HE.

Gi' your mindes to 't a little .

FAC.

What Innes , or Alehouses are there there ? does he tell you ?

1 HE.

Truly I have not askt him that .

2 HE.

Nor were you best , I beleeve .

FAC.

Why , in travaile a man knowes these things without offence ; I am sure if he be a good Poet , hee has discover'd a good Taverne in his time .

1 HE

That he has , I should thinke the worse of his Verse else .

PR.

And his Prose too i'faith .

CHR.

Is he a Mans Poet , or a Womans Poet I pray you ?

2 HE.

Is there any such difference ?

FAC.

Many , as betwixt your mans Taylor , and your womans Taylor .

1 HE.

How ? may we beseech you ?

FAC.

I le shew you ; your Mans Poet may break out strong and deep i' th mouth , as he said of Pindar , Monte decurrens velut amnis . But your Womans Poet must flow , and stroak the eare , and ( as one of them sayd of himselfe sweetly ) Must write a Verse as smooth , and calm as Creame , In which there is no torrent , nor scarce streame .

2 HE.

Ha' you any more on 't ?

FAC.

No , I could never arrive but to this Remnant .

1 HE.

Pittie ! would you had had the whole piece for a patterne to all Poetrie .

PR.

How might we doe to see your Poet ? did he undertake this journey ( I pray you ) to the Moone o'foot ?

1 HE.

Why doe you aske ?

PR.

Because one of our greatest Poets ( I know not how good a one ) went to Endenburgh o' foot , and came backe ; marry he has beene restive they say ever since , for we have had nothing from him ; he has set out nothing I am sure .

1 HE.

Like enough , perhaps he has not all in , when he has all in , he he will set out ( I warrant you ) at least those from whom he had it , it is the very same party that has beene i' th Moone now .

PR.

Indeed ! has he beene there since ? belike he rid thither then .

FAC.

Yes Post , upon the Poets horse for a wager .

1 HE.

No I assure you , he rather flew upon the wings of his Muse . There are in all but three wayes of going thither ; one is Endymions way , by rapture in sleepe , or a dreame . The other Minipus his way , by wing , which the Poet tooke . The the third , old Empedocles way ; who when he leapt into Aetna , having a drie seare bodie , and light , the smoake took him and whift him up into the Moone , where he lives yet waving up and downe like a feather , all soot and embers comming out of that cole-pit ; our Poet met him , and talkt with him .

CHR.

In what language good sir ?

2 HE.

Onely by signes and gestures , for they have no articulate voyces there , but certaine motions to musicke : all the discourse there is harmonie .

FAC.

A fine Lunatique language i'faith ; how doe their Lawyers then ?

2 HER.

They are Pythagorians , all dumbe as fishes , for they have no controversies to exercise themselves in .

FAC.

How doe they live then ?

1 HE.

O' th deaw o' th Moone like Grashoppers , and conferre with the Doppers .

FAC.

Ha' you Doppers ?

2 HE.

A world of Doppers ! but they are there as lunatick persons , walkers onely ; that have leave onely to hum , and ha , not daring to prophecie , or start up upon stooles to raise doctrine .

1 HE.

The brethren of the Rosie-Crosse have their Colledge within a mile o' the Moone ; a Castle i' th ayre that runs upon wheeles with a wing'd lanthorne —

PR.

Tha ' seen 't in print .

2 HER.

All the phantasticall creatures you can thinke of , are there .

FAC.

'T is to be hop'd there are women there then ?

1 HE.

And zealous women , that will out-grone , the groning wives of Edinburgh .

FAC.

And Lovers as phantasticke as ours ?

2 HE.

But none that will hang themselves for Love , or eate candles ends , or drinke to their Mistresse-eyes , till their owne bid 'hem good night , as the Sublunary Lovers doe .

FAC.

No sir ?

2 HER.

No , some few you shall have , that sigh or whistle themselves away ; and those are presently hung up by the heeles like Meteors , with Squibs i' their tayles , to give the wiser sort warning .

PR.

Excellent !

FAC.

Are there no selfe-Lovers there ?

2 HER.

There were , but they are all dead of late for want of Taylors .

FAC.

S'light what lucke is that ? we could have spar'd them a Colonie from hence .

2 HE.

I thinke some two or three of them live yet , but they are turn'd Moone-Calves by this .

PR.

O , I , Moone-Calves ! what Monster is that I pray you ?

2 HER.

Monster ? none at all ; a very familiar thing , like our foole here on earth .

1 HER.

The Ladyes there , play with them instead of little Dogges .

FAC.

Then there are Ladies ?

2 HER.

And Knights , and Squires .

FAC.

And servants , and Coaches ?

1 HER.

Yes , but the Coaches are much o' the nature of the Ladies , for they goe onely with wind .

Chro.

Prittie , like China-waggons .

FAC.

Ha' they any places of meeting with their Coaches , and takeing the fresh open aire , and then covert when they please , as in our Hide-Parke , or so ?

2 HER.

Above all the Hide-parkes in Christendome , farre more hiding and private , they doe all in clouds there ; they walke i' the clouds , they sit i' the clouds , they lie i' the clouds , they ride and tumble i' the clouds , their very Coaches are clouds .

PR.

But ha' they no Carmen to meet and breake their Coaches ?

2 HE.

Alas ! Carmen , they will over a Carman there , as hee will doe a Child here ; you shall have a Coachman with cheekes like a trumpeter , and a wind in his mouth blow him afore him as farre as he can see him ; or skirre over him with his batts wings a mile and a halfe , ere hee can steere his wry necke to looke where he is .

FAC.

And they ha' their new Wells too , and phisicall waters I hope to visit all time of yeare ?

1 HE.

Your Tunbridge , or the Spaw it selfe are meere puddle to 'em : When the pleasant moneths o' the yeare come , they all flocke to certaine broken Islands which are called there , the Isles of delight :

FAC.

By clouds still ?

1 HE.

What else ? Their Boates are clouds too .

2 HE.

Or in a mist ; the mists are ordinary i' the Moone , a man that owes money there , needs no other protection ; onely buy a mist and walk in 't , hee 's never discern'd , a matter of a Baubee doe's it .

1 HE.

Onely one Island they have , is call'd the Isle of the Epecaenes , because there under one Article both kindes are signified , for they are fashioned alike , male and female the same , not heads and broad hats , short doublets , and long points ; neither do they ever untrusse for distinction , but laugh and lie downe in Moone-shine , and stab with their ponyards ; you doe not know the delight of the Epicaenes in Moon-shine .

2 HE.

And when they ha' tasted the springs of pleasure enough , and bild , and kist , , and are readie to come away ; the shee 's only lay certain egges ( for they are never with Child there , ) and of those egges are disclosed a race of Creatures like men , but are indeed a sort of Fowle , in part covered with feathers ( they call 'hem Volatees ) , that hop from Island to Island , you shall see a covey of'hen if you please presently .

1 HE.

Yes faith , t is time to exercise their eies , for their eares begin to be wearie .

2 HE. Then know , we doe not move these wings so soone , On which our Poet mounted to the Moone Menippus-like ; but all twixt it and us , Thus cleares and helpes to the presentment , thus . The Antimaske of Volatees . 2 HE.

WE have all this while ( though the Muses Heralds ) adventured to tell your Majestie no newes ; for hitherto we have mov'd rather to your delight , than your beleife . But now be pleased to expect a more noble discovery worthie of your eare , as the object will be your eye ; A race of your owne , form'd , animated , lightned , and heightned by you , who rapt above the Moone far in speculation of your vertues , have remain'd their intranc'd certaine houres , with wonder of the pietie , wisedome , Majesty reflected by you , on them , from the Divine light , to which onely you are lesse . These by how much higher they have beene carried from earth to contemplate your greatnesse , have now conceiv'd the more haste and hope in this their returne home to approach your goodnesse ; and led by that excellent likenesse of your selfe , the truth , imitating Procritus endeavour , that all their motions be form'd to the musicke of your peace , and have their ends in your favour , which alone is able to resolve and thaw the cold they have presently contracted in comming through the colder Region .

They descend and shake off their Isicles .
I. Song . HOw ere the brightnesse may amaze , Move you , and stand not still at gaze , As dazeled with the light ; But with your motions fill the place , And let their fulnesse win your Grace , Till you collect your sight . So while the warmth you doe confesse , And temper of these Raies no lesse , To quicken then refine : You may by knowledge grow more bold , And so more able to behold The bodie whence they shine . The first Dance followes . II. Song . NOw looke and see in yonder throne , How all those beames are cast from one . This is that Orbe so bright , Has kept your wonder so awake ; Whence you as from a mirrour take The Suns reflected light . Read him as you would doe the booke Of all perfection , and but looke What his proportions be ; No measure that is thence contriv'd , Or any motion thence deriv'd , But is pure harmonie . Maine Dance , and Revelle . III. Song . NOt that we thinke you wearie be , for he That did this motion give , And made it so long live , Could likewise give it perpetuitie . Nor that we doubt you have not more , and store Of changes to delight , For they are infinite , As is the power that brought forth those before . But since the earth is of his name , and fame So full you cannot adde , Be both the first , and glad To speake him to the Region whence you came . The last Dance . IIII. Song . LOoke , looke alreadie where I am , bright fame , Got up unto the skie , thus high , Vpon my better wing , to sing The knowing King , And make the musicke here , With yours on earth the same . CHORUS . Joyne then to tell his name , and say but JAMES is he ; All eares will take the voyce , And in the tune rejoyce , Or truth hath left to breath , and fame hath left to be .
1 HER. See , what is that this musicke brings , And is so carried in the ayre about ? 2 HER. Fame that doth nourish the renowne of Kings , And keepes that fayre , which envie would blot out . The End .

A MASQUE OF THE METAMORPHOS'D GYPSIES .

AS IT WAS THRICE PRESENTED TO KING IAMES .

FIRST , AT BVRLEIGH on the Hill .

NEXT , AT BELVOYR .

AND LASTLY , AT WINDSOR .

AVGVST , 1621.

THE PROLOGUE AT WINDSOR . AS many blessings as there be bones In Ptolome's fingers and all at ones , Held up in Andrewes Crosse for the nones . Light on you good Master , I dare be no waster Of time , or of speech Where you are in place : I onely beseech You take in good grace , Our following the Court , Since 't is for your sport To have you still merrie , And not make you wearie . We may strive to please , So long ( some will say ) till we grow a disease But you Sir , that twice Have grac't us alreadie , encourage to thrice ; Wherein if our boldnesse your patience invade , Forgive us the fault that your favour hath made .
THE SPEECH AT THE KINGS ENTRANCE AT BURLEIGH . IF for our thoughts there could but speech be found , And all that speech be uttered in one sound ; So that some power above us would afford The meanes to make a language of a word , It should be welcome : In that onely voyce We would receive , retaine , enjoy , rejoyce ; And all effects of love , and life dispence , Till it were call'd a copious eloquence : For should we vent our spirits ( now you are come , ) In other sillables , were as to be dumbe . Welcome , ô welcome then , and enter here , The House your bounty hath built , and still doth reere With those high favovrs , and those heap't increases , Which shewes a hand not greev'd , but when it ceases . The Master is your creature , as the place ; And every good about him is your grace : Whom though he stand by silent , thinke not rude , But as a man turn'd all to gratitude . For what he never can hope , how to restore , Since while he meditates one , you heape on more . Vouchsafe to thinke , he onely is opprest With their aboundance , not that in his breast His pow'res are stupid growne ; for please you enter Him , and his house , and search them to the center : You 'll finde within no thankes , or vowes there shorter , For having trusted thus much to his Porter .
THE GYPSIES METAMORPHOS'D . Enter a Gypsie , leading a Horse laden with five little Children bound in a trace of scarffes upon him . A second , leading another Horse laden with stoll'ne Poultrey : The first leading Gypsie speaks , being the JACKMAN .

ROome for the five Princes of Aegipt , mounted all upon the Horse like the foure Sonnes of Aymon , to make the miracle the more , by a head , if it may be : gaze upon them , as on the Off-spring of Ptolomie , begotten upon severall Cleopatraes , in their severall Countries ; especially on this brave Sparke strooke out of Flint-shire , upon Justice Jugges Daughter then Sheriffe of the County ; who running away with a kinsman of our Captaines , and her Father pursuing her to the Marshes , Hee great with Justice , She great with Juggling , they were both for the time turn'd stone upon the fight each of other , in Chester : Till at last ( see the Wonder ) A Jugge of the Towne Ale reconciling them ; the memoriall of both their gravities , his in beard , and hers in bellie , hath remain'd ever since preserv'd in picture upon the most stone Jugs of the Kingdome . The famous impe yet grew a wretchcocke , and though for seven yeares together , he were very carefully carried at his mothers backe , rock'd in a cradle of Welch-cheese , like a Maggot , and there fed with broken beere , and blowne wine o' the best dayly ; yet lookes he , as if he never saw his Guinquennium . T is true , he can thread needles o'horse-backe , to draw a yard of inckle through his nose : But what 's that to a growne Gipsie , one of the bloud , and of his time if he had thriv'd : Therefore , till with his painefull Progenitors , he be able to beat it on the hard hoofe , or the bene Bawse , or the Starling , Ken to nip a Jan , and Cly the Jack ; t is thought fit he march in the Infants equipage .

With the Convoy , Cheats , and peckage , Out of Clutch of Harman Beckage , To their libkins at the Crackmans , Or some skipper of the Blackmans . 2 GIPSIE. WHere the Cacklers , but no Grunters , Shall uncas'd be for the Hunters , Those we still must keepe alive ; I , and put them out to thrive In the Parkes , and in the Chases , And the finer walled places ; As Saint James-es , Greenwich , Tibballs , Where the Acornes plumpe as Chibballs , Soone shall change both kinde and name , And proclaime'em the Kings game . So the act no harme may be Unto their keeper Barnabee ; It will prove as good a service , As did ever Gipsie Jervice , To our Captaine Charles the tall man , And a part too of our Salmon . JACKMAN .

IF we here be a little obscure , it is our pleasure ; for rather than wee will offer to be our owne interpreters , we are resolv'd not to be understood : yet if any man doubt of the significancie of the language , wee referre him to the third vollume of reports , set forth by the learned in the lawes of Canting , and published in the Gipsies tongue : Give me my Guittarra , and roome for our Chiefe .

Dance . Which is the entrance of the Captaine , with sixe more attendant ; After which the Jackman sings .
Song . FRom the famous Peacke of Darby , And the Devills arse there hard-by , Where we yearely keepe our musters , Thus the Aegiptians throng in clusters , Be not frighted with our fashion , Though we seeme a tattered Nation ; We account our ragges , our riches , So our tricks exceed our stitches . Give us Bacon , rindes of Walnuts , Shells of Cockels , and of Smalnuts ; Ribands , bells , and Safrond lynnen , All the World is ours to winne in . Knackes we have that will delight you , slight of hand that will invite you , To endure our tawny faces . WO. Quit your places , and not cause you cut your laces . All your fortunes we can tell yee , Be they for the backe or bellie ; In the Moodes too , and the Tenses , That may fit your fine five senses . Draw but then your gloves we pray you , And sit still , we will not fray you ; For though we be here at Burley , Wee 'd be loth to make a hurly .
PATRICO . STay my sweet Singer , The touch of thy finger , A little , and linger ; For me that am bringer Of bound to the border , The rule and Recorder , And mouth of the order , As Priest of the game , And Prelate of the same . THer 's a Gentry Cove here , Is the top of the Shiere , Of the Bever Ken , A man among men ; You need not to feare , I have an eye , and an eare That turnes here and there , To looke to our geare . Some say that there be One or two , if not three , That are greater then he . ANd for the Roome-Morts , I know by their ports , And their jollie resorts , They are of the sorts That love the true sports Of King Ptolomeus , Or great Coriphaeus , And Queene Cleopatra , The Gipsies grand Matra . Then if we shall sharke it , Here Fayre is , and Market . Leave Pig by , and Goose , And play fast , and loose , A short cut , and long , Some inch of a song , Pythagoras lot , Drawne out of a pot ; With what sayes Alchindus ? And Pharaotes Indus , John de Indagine With all their Pagine Of faces and Palmistrie , And this is Almistrie . Lay by your wimbles , Your boring for thimbles , Or using your nimbles , In diving the pockets , And sounding the sockets Of Simper-the Cockets ; Or angling the purses , Of such as will curse us ; But in the strict duell Be merry , and cruell , Strike faire at some jewell , That mine may accrue well , For that is the fuell , To make the Town brew well , And the pot wring well , And the braine sing well , Which we may bring well About by a string well , And doe the thing well . It is but a straine Of true legerdemaine , Once twice and againe . Or what will you say now If with our fine play now , Our feates , and our fingring , Here without lingring ; Cosening the sights Of the Lords , and the knights . Some one of their Georges Come off to save charges . Or what will you say now ? If with our fine play now , Our knackes , and our dances , We worke on the fancies Of some of these Nancies . These trinckets , and tripsies , And make 'em turne Gipsies . Heer 's no Justice Lippus Will seeke for to nip us , In Crampring , or Cippus , And then for to strip us , And after to whip us . His justice to vary , While here we doe tarry , But be wise , and wary , And we may both carry , The Kate , and the Mary , And all the bright ae'ry , A way to the quarry . The George and the Garter , Into our owne quarter ; Or durst I goe further In methood and order : Ther 's a purse and a Seale , I have a great minde to steale . That when our tricks are done , We might seale our owne pardon ; All this we may doe , And a great deale more too , If our brave Ptolomee , Will but say follow mee . 3. GIPSIE. CAptaine , if ever at the Bozing Ken , You have in draught of Darby drill'd your men ; And we have seru'd there armed all in Ale , With the browne bowle , and charg'd in bragget stale : If muster'd thus , and disciplin'd in drinke , In our long watches we did never shrinke , But so commanded by you kept our station , As we preserv'd our selves a royall Nation ; And never yet did branch of Statute breake , Made in your famous Pallas of the Peake . If we have deem'd , that Mutton , Lambe , or Veale , Chicke , Capon , Turkey , sweetest we did steale ; As being by our Magna Charta taught To judge no urands wholesome that are bought . If for our Linnen we still us'd the lift , And with the hedge ( our trades increase ) made shift ; And ever at your solemne feast , and calls , We have beene readie with the Aegyptian bralls ; To set Kit Callot forth in Prose or Rhime , Or who was Cleopatra for the time . If we have done this , that , more , such , or so ; Now lend your eare but to the Patrico . CAPTAINE . Well , Dance another straine , and wee 'l thinke how Dance 2.
1. Straine . Song 2. THe faery beame upon you , The starres to glister on you ; A Moone of light , In the noone of night , Till the Fire-drake hath or'e gon you . The wheele of fortune guide you , The Boy with the bow beside you ; Runne aye in the way , Till the bird of day , And the luckier lot beside you .
CAPTAINE . BLesse my sweet Masters , the old , and the young , From the gall of the heart , and the stroke of the tongue . With you luckie Bird I begin , let me see , I ayme at the best , and I trow you are he , Heer 's some lucke alreadie , if I understand The grounds of mine Art ; here 's a Gentlemans hand . I l'e kisse it for lucks sake , you shall by this line Love a Horse , and a Hound ; but no part of a swine . To hunt the brave Stagge , not so much for the food , As the weale of your bodie , and the health o' your blood . Your a man of good meanes , and have Territories store Both by Sea , and by Land ; and were borne Sir to more , Which you like a Lord , and the Prince of your peace , Content with your havings , dispise to increase : You are no great Wencher , I see by your table , Although your Mons Veneris sayes you are able ; You live chaste , and single , and have buried your Wife , And meane not to marrie , by the line of your life . Whence he that conjectures , your qualitie learnes , You are an honest good man , and care of your Barnes . Your Mercuries hill too , a wit doth betoken , Some booke-craft you have , and are pretty well spoken . But stay , in your Jupiters mount , what 's here ? A King , a Monarch ; what wonders appeare ! High , Bountifull , Just : a Jove for your parts , A Master of men , and that Reigne in their hearts . I le tell it my trayne , And come to you againe .
Song 3. TO the old , long life and treasure , To the young , all health and pleasure ; To the faire , their face With eternall grace , And the foule to be lov'd at leisure . To the witty , all cleare mirrors , To the foolish , their darke errors ; To the loving sprite , A secure delight , To the jealous his owne false terrors . After which the Kings fortune is pursued by the
CAPTAINE . COuld any doubt that saw this hand , Or who you are , or what command You have upon the fate of things , Or would not say you were let downe From Heaven , on earth to be the Crowne , And top of all your neighbour Kings ? To see the wayes of truth you take , To sallance businesse , and to make All Christian differences cease . Or till the quarrell , and the cause You can compose , to give them lawes , As arbitor of Warre , and Peace . For this , of all the world you shall Be stiled James , the just , and all Their states dispose , their Sons and daughters , And for your fortune you alone , Among them all shall worke your owne , By peace , not by humaine slaughters . But why doe I presume , though true , To tell a Fortune , Sir , to you , Who are the maker here of all ; Where none doe stand , or sit in view , But owe their fortune unto you , At least what they good fortunes call ? My selfe a Gipsie here doe shine , Yet are you maker , Sir , of mine . Oh that confession could content So high a bounty , that doth know No part of motion , but to flow , and giving never to repent . May still the matter wayte your hand , That it not feele , or stay , or stand ; but all desert still over charge . And may your goodnesse ever finde In me whom you have made , a minde , As thankefull as your owne is large . 2 Dance . 2 Straine . After which , the Princes fortune is offered at by the 2 GIPSIE. AS my Captaine hath begun With the Sire , I take the Sonne , Your hand Sir . Of your fortune be secure , Love , and she , are both at your Command Sir . See what States are here at strife , Who shall tender you a Wife , A brave one ; And a fitter for a man , Then is offer'd here , you can Not have one . She is Sister of a starre , One the noblest now that are , Bright Hesper . Whom the Indians in the East , Phosphore call , and in the West , Hight Vesper . Courses even with the Sunne , Doth her mighty brother runne , For splendor . What can to the marriage night , More then morne , and evening light Attend her ? Save the promise before day , Of a little James to play Hereafter . Twixt his Grandsiers knees , and move All the pretty wayes of love , And laughter . Whil'st with care you strive to please , In your giving his cares ease , And labours ; And by being long the ayd Of the Empire , make afrayd III Neighbours . Till your selfe shall come to see What we wish , yet farre to be Attending : For it skills not when , or where That begins , which cannot feare An ending . Since your name in peace , or warres , Nought shall bound untill the starres up take you . 2 Dance . Staine 3. After which , the Ladie Marques Buckinghams by the 3 GIPSIE. HUrle after an old shooe , I le be merrie what ever I doe , Though I keepe no time , My words shall chyme , I le over-take the sense with a ryme . Face of a rose I pray thee depose Some small piece of silver : It shall be no losse , But onely to make the signe of the crosse ; If your hand you hallow , Good fortune will follow . I sweare by these ten , You shall have it agen , I doe not say when . But Ladie , either I am tipsie , Or you are to fall in love with a Gipsie ; Blush not Dame Kate , For early , or late , I doe assure you it will be your fate ; Nor need you be once asham'd of it Madam , Hee 's as handsome a man , as ever was Adam . A man out of waxe , As a Ladie would axe ; Yet hee 's not to wed yee : H' has enjoyd you alreadie , And I hope he has sped yee . A dainty yong fellow , And though he looke yellow , He never will be jealous , But love you most zealous . Ther 's never a line in your hand but doth tell us . And you are a foule so white , and so chaste , A table so smooth , and so newly ra'ste , As nothing cald foule , Dare approach with a blot , Or any least spot ; But still you controule , Or make your owne lot , Preserving love pure as it first was begot : But Dame I must tell yee , The fruit of your bellie , Is that you must tender , And care so to render ; That as your selfe came In blood , and in name , From one house of fame , So that may remaine The glory of twaine . 2 Dance . 4 Straine . After which , the Countesse of Rutlands by the 3 GIPSIE. YOu sweet Ladie have a hand too , And a fortune you may stand too ; Both your brav'ry , and your bounty Stile you Mistris of the County ; You will finde it from this night , Fortune shall forget her spight , And heape all the blessings on you , That she can poure out upon you ; To be lov'd , where most you love , Is the worst that you shall prove ; And by him to be imbrac't , Who so long hath knowne you chaste , Wise , and faire ; whil'st you renew Joyes to him , and he to you : And when both your yeares are told , Neither thinke the other old . And the Countesse of Exeters by the PATRICO MAdam we know of your comming so late , We could not well fit you a nobler fate Then what you have readie made ; An old mans wife , Is the light of his life , A young one is but his shade . You will not importune , The change of your fortune ; For if you dare trust to my forecasting , T' is presently good , and will be lasting . Dance 2. 5 Straine . After which , the Countesse of Buckinghams by the 4 GIPSIE. YOur pardon Ladie , here you stand , If some should judge you by your hand The greatest fellon in the Land Detected : I cannot tell you by what Arts , But you have stolne so many hearts , As they would make you at all parts Suspected . Your very face first , such a one As being view'd it was alone , Too slipperie to be lookt upon ; And threw men . But then your graces they were such , As none could er'e behold too much ; Both ev'ry taste , and ev'ry touch So drew men . Still blest in all you thinke , or doe , Two of your Sons are Gipsies too , You shall our Queene be , and see who Importunes The heart of either yours , or you ; And doth not wish both George , and Sue , And every Barne besides , all new Good fortunes . The Lady Purbecks by the 2 GIPSIE. HElpe me wonder , her 's a booke , Where I would for ever looke ; Never yet did Gipsie trace , Smoother lines in hands , or face : Venus here doth Saturne move That you should be Queene of love ; And the other Starres consent , Onely Cupid not content ; For though you the theft disguise , You have told him of his eyes : And to shew his envie further , Here he chargeth you with murther ; Sayes , although that at your sight , He must all his troches light ; Though your either cheeks discloses , Mingled bathes of milke and Roses , Though your lips be bankes of blisses , Where he plants , and gathers kisses ; And your selfe the reason why , Wisest men for love may dye , You will turne all hearts to tinder , And shall make the World one cinder . And the Ladie Elizabeth Hattons by the 5 GIPSIE. MIstris , of a fayrer table Hath not history , nor sable ; Others fortunes may be showne , You are builder of your owne . And what ever Heav'n hath given you , You preserve the state still in you , That which time would have depart , Youth without the helpe of Art , You doe keepe still , and the glory Of your Sexe , is but your story . The Lord Chamberlaine by the JACKMAN . THough you Sir be Chamberlaine , I have a key To open your fortune a little by the way ; You are a good man , Deny it that can ; And faithfull you are , Deny it that dare . You know how to use your sword and your Pen , And you love not alone the Arts , but the men ; The graces and Muses ev'ry where follow You , as you were their second Apollo ; Onely your hand here tells you to your face , You have wanted one grace , To performe , what has beene a right of your place ; For by this line which is Mars his Trench , You never yet help'd your Master to a Wench : T is well for your honour hee 's pious , and chaste , Or you had most certainly beene displaste . Dance 2. Straine 3. The Lord Keepers fortune by the PATRICO . AS happie a Palme Sir , as most i' the Land , It should be a pure , and an innocent hand ; And worthie the trust , For it sayes you le be just , And carry that Purse , Without any curse Of the Publique-weale , When you take out the Seale , You doe not appeare , A Judge of a yeare . I le venter my life You never had wife , But i le venter my skill , You may when you will . You have the Kings conscience too in your brest , And that 's a good guest ; Which you will have true touch of , And yet not make much of ; More then by truth your selfe forth to bring , The man that you are , for God , and the King . The Lord Treasurers fortune by the 3 GIPSIE. I Come to borrow , and you 'le grant my demand Sir , Since t is for no money , pray lend me your hand Sir ; And yet this good hand if you please to stretch it , Had the Errant beene money , could easily fetch it ; You command the Kings treasure , and yet on my soule You handle not much , for your palme is not foule : Your fortune is good , and will be to set The Office upright , and the King out of debt ; To put all that have Pensions soone out of their paine , By bringing th' Exchequer in credit againe . The Lord Privie-Seales , 2 GIPSIE. HOnest , and old , In those the good part of a fortune is told ; God send you your health , The rest is provided , honour , and wealth ; All which you possesse , Without the making of any man lesse , Nor need you my warrant , enjoy it you shall , For you have a good Privie-Seale for it all . The Earle Marshalls , 3 GIPSIE. NExt the great Master , who is the Donor , I reade you here the preserver of honour , And spie it in all your singular parts , What a father you are , and a nurse of the Arts. By cherishing which , a way you have found , How the free to all , to one may be bound , And they againe love their bonds ; for to bee Obliged to you , is the way to be free : But this is their fortune ; Hearke to your owne , Yours shall be to make true Gentry knowne From the fictitious , not to prize blood So much by the greatnesse , as by the good : To shew , and to open cleere vertue the way , Both whether she should , and how farre she may ; And whilst you doe judge twixt valour , and noyse To'extinguish the race of the roaring boyes . The Lord Stewards by the 4 GIPSIE. I finde by this hand You have the command Of the very best mans house i' the land : Our Captaine , and wee , Ere long will see If you keepe a good table ; Your Master 's able . And here be bountifull lines that say You 'le keepe no part of his bounty away . Thus written to Franke On your Venus banke ; To prove a false steward you 'le find much adoe , Being a true one by blood , and by office too . Lord Marquesse Hamiltons by the 3 GIPSIE. ONely your hand , and welcome to Court , Here is a man both for earnest , and sport . You were lately employ'd And your Master is joy'd To have such in his traine So well can sustaine His person abroad , And not shrinke for the load . But had you beene here , You should have beene a Gipsie I sweare , Our Captaine had summond you by a doxie , To whom you would not have answer'd by proxie , One , had she come in the way of your Scepter , T is ods , you had layd it by to have leapt her . The Earle of Buckclougs by the PATRICO . A Hunter you have beene heretofore , And had game good store ; But ever you went Upon a new sent , And shifted your loves As often as they did their smockes , or their gloves : But since that your brave intendments are Now bent for the warre , The world shall see You can constant be , One Mistris to prove , And court her for your love . Pallas , shall be both your Sword , and your Gage ; Truth , beare your Shield , and fortune your Page , PATR . WHy this is a sport , See it North , see it South , For the taste of the Court , JACK . For the Courts own mouth . Come Windsor , the Towne , With the Maior , and oppose , Wee ll put them all downe , PATR . Do — do — downe like my hose . A Gipsie in his shape More calls the beholder , Then the fellow with the Ape , JAC. Or the Ape on his shoulder . H 'is a sight that will take An old Judge from his Wench , I , and keepe him awake , PAT. Yes , awake on the Bench. And has so much worth , Though he sit i' the stocks , He will draw the Girles forth , JAC. I , forth i' their smocks . Tut , a man 's a man ; Let the Clownes with their Sluts Come mend us if they can , PAT. If they can , for their guts . Come mend us , come lend us , their shouts , and their noyse , BOTH . Like thunder , and wonder at Ptolomies boyes . 2 Dance . 6 Straine , which leads into Dance 3. During which , Enter the Clownes , COCKRELL , CLOD , TOWNSHEAD , PUPPIE . COCK .

OH the Lord ! what be these ? Tom dost thou know ? Come hither , come hither Dick , didst thou ever see such ? the finest Olive-colour'd spirits , they have so danc'd , and gingled here , as if they had beene a sett of over-growne Fayries .

CLO.

They should be Morris-dancers by their gingle , but they have no napkins :

CO.

No , nor a Hobby-horse .

CL.

Oh , hee s often forgotten , that 's no rule ; but there is no Mayd-marian , nor Friar amongst them , which is the surer marke .

CO.

Nor a Foole that I see .

CL.

Unlesse they be all fooles .

TOW .

Well sed Tom foole ; why thou simple pish Asse thou ! didst thou never see any Gipsies ? these are a covie of Gipsies , and the bravest new-come , that ever Constable flew at ; goodly game Gipsies , they are Gipsies o' this yeare , o' this Moone in my conscience .

CL.

Oh they are called the Moone men I remember now !

COC.

One shall hardly see such gentleman-like - Gipsies , though under a hedge in a whole Summers day , if they be Gipsies .

TOW .

Male Gipsies all , not a Mort among them .

PUP.

Where ? where ? I could never endure the sight of these Rogue-Gipsies , which be they : I would faine see 'em .

CL.

Yonder they are .

PUP.

Can they Cant , or Mill ? are they masters of their Arts ?

TO .

No bachelours these , they cannot have proceeded so farre ; they have scarce had their time to be lowsie yet .

PU .

All the better ; I would be acquainted with them while they are in cleane life , the 'I le doe their tricks the cleanlier .

COC.

We must have some musick then , and take out the Wenches .

PUP.

Musick , wee 'll have a whole poverty of pipers , call cheeks upon the Bagpipe , and Tom Ticklefoot with his Tabor ; see where he comes !

CO.

I , and all the good wenches of Windsor ; after him , yonder is Prue o' the Parke ,

TOW .

And Frances o' the Castle ;

PUP.

And long Meg of Eaton ;

CLO.

And Christian o' Dorny .

TOW .

See the miracle of a Minstrell .

CO.

Hee s able to muster up the smocks of the two Shieres ;

PU .

And set the Codpeeces and they by th' eares at pleasure .

TO .

I cannot hold now , ther 's my groat , let 's have a fit for mirth sake .

CO.

Yes , and the 'ile come about us for lucke sake .

PU .

But looke to our pockets , and purses , for our owne sake .

CL.

I , I have the greatest charge ; gather the money .

CO.

Come Girles , here be Gipsies come to town , let 's dance'em down .

The Clownes take out their Wenches . PRUDENCE , FRANCES , MEGGE , CHRISTIAN . Country Dance . During which , the Gipsies come about them prying , and after the PATRICO . Sweet Doxies , and Dells , My Roses , and Knells , Scarce out of the shells , Your hands nothing ells . We ring you no knells With our Ptolomies bells , Though we come from the fells , But bring you good spells , And tell you some chances , In midst of your dances , That fortune advances , To Prudence , or Frances ; To Sisly , or Harry , To Roger , or Mary , Or Pegge of the Dary ; To Maudlin , or Thomas , Then do not runne from us , Although we looke tawny , We are healthie , and brawny , What ere your demand is , Wee ll give you no jaundis . PUP.

Say you so old Gipsie ? 'slid these go too 't in rymes ; this is better then canting by tone halfe .

TO .

Nay , you shall heare'em ; peace , they begin with Prudence , mark that .

PU .

The wiser Gipsie's the Marry .

TO .

Are you advis'd ?

PU .

Yes , and i le stand too 't , that a wise Gipsie ( take him at time o'year ) is as pollique a peece of flesh , as most Justices in the County where hee stalkes .

3 GIP. To love a Keeper , your fortune will bee ; But the Doucets better then him , or his fee. TO .

Ha Prue , has he hit you i t'h teeth with a sweet bit ?

PU .

Let her alone , shee 'll swallow well enough ; A learned Gipsie .

TO .

You 'le heare more hereafter .

PU .

Marry , and i le listen ; who stands next ? Jack Cockrell .

You 'le ha' good lucke to horse-flesh o' my life , You plow'd so late with the Vicars wife . PU .

A Prophet , a prophet , no Gipsie ; or if he be a Gipsie , a divine Gipsie .

TO .

Mark Frances , now shee 's going too 't , the virginitie o' the Parish .

PAT. Feare not , in hell you 'le never lead Apes ; A mortifi'd mayden , of five scapes . PU .

Birlady he toucht the virgin string there a little too hard , they are arrant learned men all I see ; what say they upon Tom , Clod , List .

1 GIP. Clods feet will in Christmas goe neere to be bare , When he has lost all his hob nayles at Post and paire . PU .

Has hit the right nayle o' th head , his owne game .

TO .

And the very mettall he deales in at play if you marke it .

PU .

Peace , who 's this ? Long Meg ?

TO .

Long , and foule Meg , if she be a Meg , as ever I saw of her inches ; pray God they fit her with a faire fortune .

PU .

They slip her , and treat upon Tickle-foot .

1 GIP. On Sundayes you robbe the poores boxe with your tabor , The Collectors would doe it , you save them a labor . PUP.

Faith but a little , they 'le doe it non upstant .

TO .

Heer 's my little Christian , forget , ha you any fortune left for her ; a straight-lac'd Christian of sixteene .

PAT. Christian shall get her a loose bodide-gowne , In tri'mge , how a Gentleman differs from a Clowne . PUP.

Is that a fortune for a Christian ; a Turke , or a Gipsie could not have told her a worse .

TO .

Come , I le stand my selfe , and once venter the poore head o' the Towne , doe your worst , my name 's Townshead , and heer s my hand I le not be angry .

3 GIP.

A Cuckold you must be , and that for three lives ;

Your owne , the Parsons , and your Wives .

TO .

I sweare I le never marry for that , an 't be but to give fortune my foe the lye ; Com Pan Puppie you must in too :

PUP.

No , I 'me well enough , I would ha' no good fortune an I might ;

PAT. Yet looke to your selfe , you 'le ha some ill luck , And shortly , for I have his purse at a plucke . Away birds Mum , I heare by the Hum , If Beck-harman come , Hee 'le strike us all dumbe , With a noyse like a Drum , Let 's give him our roome , Here , this way some , And that way others , We are not all brothers ; Leave me to the cheats , I le shew 'em some feates . PUP.

What! are they gone ? flowne all of a sudden ? this is fine i'faith ? a covie call y'em , they are a covie soone scatter'd mee thinke , who sprung 'em I marle ?

TO .

Marry your selfe Puppie for ought I know , you quested last .

CLO.

Would he had quested first , and sprung y'em an ' owre agoe , for mee .

TO .

Why ! what 's the matter man ?

CLO.

'Slid , they ha' sprung my purse , and all I had about me .

SO.

They ha' not , ha' they ?

CLO.

As I am true Clod , ha' they , and ransacled me of every penny , outcept I were with child with an owle ( as they say ) I never saw such lucke , it 's enough to make a man a whore .

PUP.

Hold thy peace , thou talk'st as if thou had'st a license to lose thy purse alone in this company ; 'slid here be those can lose a purse in honour of the Gipsies , as well as thou for thy heart , and never make word of it : I ha' lost my purse too .

COC.

What was there i' thy purse , thou keep'st such a whining ; was the lease of thy house in it .

PU .

Or thy Grannams silver ring .

CL.

No , but a Mill sixe-pence I lov'd as dearely , and a 2 pence I had to spend over and above ; besides ; the Harper that was gathered amongst us , to pay the Piper .

TOM.

Our whole stocke , is that gone ? how will Tom Tickle-foot doe to wet his whistle then ?

PUP.

Marry , a new collection , ther 's no musicke else masters , hee can ill pipe that wants his upper lippe ; Money .

PRU.

They have robb'd me too of a dainty race of ginger , and a jetring I had , to draw Jacke straw hether a holy dayes .

TOM

Is' t possible ? fine finger'd Gipsies i'faith .

ME.

And I have lost an inchanted Nutmegge , all guilded over , was inchanted at Oxford for mee , to put i' my sweet-hearts Ale a mornings ; with a row of white-pins that pricke me to the very heart , the losse of them .

CLO.

And I have lost , besides my purse , my best bride-lace I had at Joane Turners wedding , and a halpeworth of hobnayles : Francis Addle-breech has lost somewhat too , besides her Mayden-head .

FRA.

I have lost my thimble , and a skeine of Coventry-blew I had to worke Gregory Lichfield a handkercheife .

CHR.

And I unhappie Christian as I am , have lost my Practice of Pietie , with a bowed groat ; and the ballet of Whoope Barnibie , which grieves me ten times worse .

CLO.

And Tickle-foot h 'as lost his cloute he sayes , with a three pence and foure tokens in 't ; besides his Tabouring-sticke ev'n now .

CO.

And I my knife and sheath , and my fine Dogs-leather gloves .

TO .

H'a we lost never a dogge amongst us , wher 's Puppie .

PUP.

Here goodman Townshead , you have nothing to lose it seemes , but the Towne-braines you are trusted with .

OH my deare marrowes ! No shooting of arrowes , Or shafts of your wit , Each other to hit , In your skirmishing fit ? Your store is but small , Then venter not all . Remember each mocke , Doth spend o' the stocke ; And what was here done , Being under the Moone , And at afternoone , Will prove right soone Disceptio visus , Done Gratia risus . Ther 's no such thing , As the losse of a ring , Or what you count worse , The misse of a purse . But haye for the maine , And passe of the straine , Heer 's both come againe . And ther 's an old twinger , Can show yet the ginger ; The Pinnes , and the Nutmegge Are safe here with Slut-megge ; Then strike up your Tabour , And ther 's for your labour ; The sheath , and the knife , I le venter my life , Shall breed you no strife , But like man , and wife , Or Sister , and brother , keepe one with another , And light as a feather , Make haste to come hither . THe Coventry-blew , Hangs there upon Prue , And heer 's one opens The Clout , and the Tokens ; Denie the bow'd groat , And you lie i' your throat . Or the Tabourers nine pence , Or the sixe fine pence . As for the ballet , Or the booke what you call it ; Alas our societie , Mell's not with pietie , Himselfe hath forsooke it , That first undertooke it ; For thimble , or bride-lace Search yonder side lasse . All 's to be found , If you looke your selves round ; We scorne to take from yee , We had rather spend on yee , If any man wrong yee , The Theef's among yee . TOW .

EXcellent i'faith , a most restorative Gipsie , all 's here agen ; and yet by his learning of Legier-demaine , he would make us beleeve we had robb'd our selves .

CO.

A Gipsie of qualitie beleeve it , and one of the Kings Gipsies ; this a Drinke-alian , or a Drinke-braggatan ?

Aske him .

The King has his noyse of Gipsies , as well as of Bearwards , and other Minstrells .

PU .

What sort or order of Gipsies , I pray sir .

A Flagon-fekian , A Devils-arse-a Pekian ; Borne first at Niglington , Bred up at Filchington , Boarded at Tappington , Bedded at Wappington . TO .

Fore me , a dainty deriv'd Gipsie .

PU .

But I pray sir , if a man might aske on you , how came your Captaines place first to be call'd the Devills-arse .

PAT. For that take my word , We have a record , That doth it afford , And sayes our first Lord , Cocklorrell he hight , On a time did invite The Devill to a feast ; The tayle of the jeast , Though since it be long , Lives yet in a song ; Which if you would heare , Shall plainly appeare . I le call in my Clarke Shall sing like a Larke , Come in my long sharke , With thy face browne and darke ; With thy tricks , and thy toyes , Make a merry merry noyse , To those mad Country boyes , And chant out the fart of the Grand-devils arse .
SONG . COck-lorrell , would needs have the Devill his guest , And bad him once into the Peake to dinner , Where never the Fiend had such a feast , Provided him yet at the charge of a sinner . His stomacke was queasie ( for comming there Coacht ) , The jogging had caus'd some crudities rise ; To helpe it he call'd for a Puritan poacht , That used to turne up the egg 's of his eyes . And so recover'd unto his wish , He sate him downe , and he fell to eate ; Promooter in plum-broth was the first dish , His owne privie kitchin had no such meate . Yet though with this he much were taken Vpon a sudden he shifted his trencher As soone as he spi'd the Bawd , and bacon , By which you may note the devill 's a wencher . Sixe pickl'd Taylors sliced and cut , Sempsters , Tyrewomen , fit for his pallat ; With Feathermen , and perfumes put , Some twelve in a Charger to make a grand sallet : A rich fat Vsurer stu'd in his marrow , And by him a Lawyers head and green-sawce ; Both which his belly tooke in like a barrow , As if till then he had never seene sawce . Then Carbonadoed , and Cook't with paines , Was brought up a cloven Serjants face ; The sauce was made of his Yeamans braines , That had beene beaten out with his owne mace . Two roasted Sheriffes came whole to the board ; ( The feast had nothing beene without 'em ) Both living , and dead , they were foxt , and fu'rd , Their chaines like sawsages hung about 'em . The very next dish , was the Mayor of a Towne , With a pudding of maintenance thrust in his belly ; Like a Goose in the feathers drest in his gowne , And his couple of Hinch-boyes boyld to a jelly . A London Cuckold , hot from the spit , And when the Carver up had broke him ; The Devill chopt up his head at a bit , But the hornes were very neere like to have choakt him . The chine of a Lecher too there was roasted , With a plumpe Harlots haunch and garlicke ; A Panders pettitoes that had boasted Himselfe for a Captaine , yet never was warlicke . A large fat pastie of a Mid-wife hot ; And for a cold bak't meat into the story , A reverend painted Ladie was brought , And coffin'd in crust , till now she was hoary . To these , an over-growne-justice of peace , With a Clarke like a gizzard thrust under each arme ; And warrants for sippets , layd in his owne grease , Set o're a chaffing dish to be kept warme . The joule of a Jaylor , serv'd for fish , A Constable sous'd with vineger by ; Two Aldermen lobsters asleepe in a dish , A Deputy tart , a Churchwarden pye . All which devovr'd ; He then for a close , Did for a full draught of Derby call ; He heav'd the huge vessell up to his nose , And left not till he had drunke up all . Then from the table he gave a start , Where banquet , and wine were nothing scarce ; All which he slirted away with a fart , From whence it was call'd the Devils Arse . And there he made such a breach with the winde , The hole too standing open the while , That the sent of the vapour , before , and behinde , Hath fouly perfumed most part of the Isle . And this was Tobacco , the learned suppose ; Which since in Countrey , Court , and Towne , In the Devills glister-pipe smoaks at the nose Of Polle at , and Madam , of Gallant , and Clowne . From which wicked weed , with Swines-flesh , and Ling ; Or any thing else that s feast for the Fiend : Our Captaine , and wee , cry God save the King , And send him good meate , and mirth without end .
PUP.

AN excellent song , and a sweet Songster , and would have done rarely in a Cage , with a dish of water , and hempseed ; a fine breast of his owne : Sir you are a Prelate of the Order , I understand , and I have a terrible grudging now upon mee to bee one of your company ; will your Captaine take a Prentise Sir ? I would binde my selfe to him bodie and soule , either for one and twenty yeares , or as manie lives as he would .

CLO

I , and put in my life for one , for I am come about too ; I am sorry I had no more money i' my purse when you came first upon us Sir ; If I had knowne you would have pickt my pocket so like a Gentleman , I would have beene better provided ; I shall bee glad to venter a purse with your Worshippe at any time you 'll appoint , so you would preferre mee to your Captaine ; I le put in security for my truth , and serve out my time , though I dye to morrow .

COC.

I , upon those termes Sir , and in hope your Captaine keepes better cheere then he made the Devill , for my stomacke will nere agree with that dyet , wee 'll be all his followers ; I le goe home and fetch a little money Sir , all I have , and you shall picke my pocket to my face , and i 'le avouch it ; A man would not desire to have his pocket pick't in better company .

PUP.

Tut , they have other manner of gifts then picking of pockets , or telling fortunes ; if they would but please to shew 'em , or thought us poore Countrey mortalls worthy of them ; what might a man doe to be a Gentleman of your company Sir ?

I , a Gipsie in ord'nary , or nothing .

PAT. FReinds not to refell yee , Or any way quell ye , To buy or to sell ye , I onely must tell ye ; Ye ayme at a mystery , Worthie a History ; Ther 's much to be done , E're you can be a Sonne , Or brother of the Moone . T is not so soone Acquir'd , as desir'd . You must be Ben-bowsie , And sleepy , and drowsie , And lasie , and lowsie , Before ye can rowse yee , In shape that arowse yee . And then you may stalke The Gipsies walke ; To the Coopes , and the Pennes , And bring in the Hennes , Though the Cocke be sullen For losse of the Pullen : Take Turkie , or Capon , And Gammons of Bacon , Let nought be forsaken ; Wee 'll let you go loose , Like a Foxe to a Goose , And shew you the stie Where the little Pigs lie ; Whence if you can take One or two , and not wake The Sow in her dreames , But by the Moone beames ; So warily hye , As neither doe cry . You shall the next day Have license to play At the hedge a flirt , For a sheet , or a shirt ; If your hand be light , I le shew you the slight Of our Ptolomies knot , It is , and 't is not , To change your complexion , With the noble confection Of Wall-nuts , and Hogs-grease , Better then Dogs-grease : And to milke the Kine , Ere the Milke-mayd fine Hath open'd her eine . Or if you desire To spit , or fart fire , I le teach you the knacks , Of eating of flaxe ; And out of their noses , Draw Ribbands , and posies , As for example , Mine owne is as ample , And fruitfull a nose , As a wit can suppose ; Yet it shall goe hard , But there will be spar'd , Each of you a yard , And worth your regard . When they collour , and size Arrive at your eyes . And if you encline To a cup of good wine , When you suppe , or dine ; If you chance it to lacke , Be it Clarret , or Sacke ; I le make this snout , To deale it about , Or this to runne out , As it were from a spout . TOW .

Admirable tricks , and he does 'em all se defendendo , as if he would not be taken in the trappe of authority , by a fraile fleshly Constable .

PVP.

Without the ayd of a Cheese ,

CLO.

Or helpe of a flitch of bacon .

CO.

Oh , he would chirp in a paire of stockes sumptuously ; I 'de give any thing to see him play loose with his hands , when his feet were fast .

PVP.

O' my conscience he feares not that , and the Marshall himselfe were here ; I protest I admire him .

PAT. IS this worth your wonder , Nay then you shall under - Stand more of my skill . I can ( for I will ) Here at Burley o' th Hill , Give you all your fill , Each Jacke with his Gill , And shew you the King , The Prince too and bring ; The Gipsies were here , Like Lords to appeare , With such there attenders , As you thought offenders , Who now become new men , You le know them for true men ; For he we call cheife , I le tell 't ye in breife , Is so farre from a theife , As he gives ye releife With his bread , beare , and beife And t is not long since Ye dranke of his Wine , And it made you fine ; Both Clarret , and Sherrie , Then let us be merrie ; And helpe with your call , For a Hall , a Hall . Stand up to the wall , Both good men , and tall , We are one mans all . BEVER . THe fist of August , Will not let saw-dust Lie in your throats , Or cobwebs , or Oates ; But helpe to scoure ye . This is no Gowrie , Has drawne James hither , But the goodman of Bever , Our Buckinghams Father ; Then so much the rather Make it a jolly night , For t is a holy night , Spight of the Constable , Or Mas Deane of Dunstable . ALL. A Hall , a hall , a hall . The Gipsies chang'd Dance . PATRICO . WHy now ye behold , T was truth that I told , And no devise ; They are chang'd in a trice , And so will I , Be my selfe , by and by . I onely now Must studie now To come off with a grace , With my Patrico's place : Some short kind of blessing , It selfe addressing Unto my good Master , Which light on him faster , Then wishes can flye . And you that stand by Be as jocund as I ; Each man with his voyce , Give his heart to rejoyce , Which I 'le requite , If my Art hit right , Though late now at night , Each Clowne here in sight , Before day light , Shall prove a good Knight ; And your Lasses Pages Worthie their wages , Where fancie engages Girles to their ages . CLOW. Oh any thing for the Patrico , what i st ? what i st ? PAT. Nothing , but beare the bob of the close , It will be no bruthen you well may suppose . But blesse the Sov'raine , and his sences , An to wish away offences , CLO. Let us alone , blesse the Sov'raine , and his sences . PAT. Wee 'll take them in order , as they have being , And first of seeing . PAT. 1 FRom a Gipsie , in the morning , Or a paire of squint-eyes turning : From the Coblin , and the spectre , Or a Drunkard , though with Nectar ; From a woman true to no man , Which is ougly , besides common ; A smocke rampant , and the itches , To be putting on the breeches : Wher so 'ere they ha' their being , Blesse the Sov'raine , and his seeing . 2 FRom a foole , and serious joyes ; From a Lawyer , three parts noyse ; From impertinence , like a Drum Beate at dinner in his roome ; From a tongue without a file , Heapes of Phrases , and no stile . From a Fiddle out of tune , As the Cuckow is in June . From the candlesticks of Lothbury , And the lowd pure wives of Banbury : Or a long pretended fit ; Meant for mirth , but is not it : Onely time , and eares out-wearing , Blesse the Sov'raine , and his hearing . 3 FRom a strolling Tinkers sheete , Or a payre of Carriers feet : From a Ladie that doth breath , Worse above , then underneath . From the Diet , and the knowledge Of the students in Beares-colledge . From Tobacco , with the tipe Of the Devills glister-pipe ; Or a stincke all stincks excelling , A Fishmongers dwelling , Blesse the Sov'raigne , and his smelling . 4 FRom an Oyster , and fry'd fish A Sowes babye in a dish : From any portion of a Swine , From bad Venison , and worse wine . Ling , what Cooke so'ere it boyle , Though with mustard fawc'd and oyle , Or what else would keepe man fasting , Blesse the Sov'raigne , and his tasting . 5 BOth from birdlime , and from pitch , From a Doxie , and her itch . From the brisles of a Hogge , Or the ring-worme in a Dogge . From the courtshippe of a brier , Or St. Anthonies old fier . From a needle , or a thorne ; I' the bed at Ev'n , or Morne . Or from any Gowtes least grutching . Blesse the Sov'raigne , and his touching . BLesse him too from all offences , In his sports , as in his fences . From a Boy to crosse his way , From a fall , or a foule day . BLesse him , ô blesse him Heav'n , and lend him long to be the sacred burthen of all song ; The Acts , and yeares , of all our Kings t' out go ; And while hee 's mortall , we not thinke him so . After which , ascending up , the Jackman sings .
SONG I. THe sports are done , yet doe not let Your joyes in sudden silence sett ; Delight , and dumbnesse never met In one selfe subject yet . If things oppos'd must mixt appeare , Then adde a boldnesse to your feare , And speake a hymne to him , Where all your duties do of right belong , Which I will sweeten with an under song .
CAPTAINE . GLory of ours , and grace of all the Eath ; How well your figure doth become your birth , As if your forme , and fortune equall stood , And onely vertue got above your blood .
SONG 2. Vertue ; his Kingly vertue which did merrit This Isle entire , and you are to inherit . 4 GIPSIE. HOw right he doth confesse him in his face , His browe , his eye , and ev'ry marke of State ; As if he were the issue of each Grace , And bore about him both his fame , and fate .
SONG 3. LOoke , looke , is hee not faire , And fresh , fragrant too As Summer skie , or purged Aire , And lookes as Lillies doe , That were this morning blowne .
4 GIPSIE. Oh more ! that more of him were knowne . 3 GIPSIE. LOoke how the Windes upon the Waves growne tame , Take up Land sounds upon their purple wings ; And catching each from other , beare the fame To ev'ry angle of their sacred springs . So will we take his praise , and hurle his name About the Globe , in thousand Ay'ry rings , If his great vertue be in lore with fame , For that contem'd , both are neglected things .
SONG 4. GOod Princes soare above their fame , And in their worth , Come greater forth , Then in their name . Such , such the Father is , Whom ev'ry title strives to kisse ; Who on his Royall grounds unto himselfe doth raise , The worke to trouble fame , and to astonish praise .
4 GIPSIE. INdeed hee 's not Lord alone of all the State , But of the love of men , and of the Empires fate . The Muses Arts , the Schooles commerce , our honours lawes , And Vertues hang on him , as on their working cause . 2 GIP. His Hand-mayd Justice is , 3 GIP. Wisedome , his Wife ; 4 GIP. His Mistresse , Mercie ; 5 GIP. Temperance , his life . 2 GIP. His Pages bounty , and grace which many prove , 3 GIP. His Guards are Magnanimitie , and love . 4 GIP. His Ushers , Councell , Truth , and Pietie , 5 GIP. And all that followes him , Felicitie .
SONG 5. OH that we understood Our good ; Ther 's happinesse indeed in blood , And store , But how much more , When vertu's flood In the same streame doth hit ? As that growes high with yeares , so happinesse with it . CAPTAINE . LOve , love his fortune then , and vertues knowne , Who is the toppe of men , But makes the happinesse our owne ; Since where the Prince , for goodnesse is renownd , The Subject with Felicitie is Crownd .
The End .
The EPILOGUE . AT Burley , Bever , and now last at Windsor , Which shewes we are Gipsies of no common kinde Sir . You have behold ( and with delight ) their change , And how they came transform'd , may thinke it strange . It being a thing not touch't at by our Poet , Good Ben slept there , or else forgot to shew it ; But least it prove like wonder to the sight , To see a Gipsie , as an Aethiope , white . Know , that what dy'd our faces , was an oyntment Made , and layd on by Mr. Woolfes appointment , The Court Licanthropos ; yet without spells , By a meere Barber , and no Magicke ells : It was fetcht off with water , and a ball , And to our transformation , this is all , Save what the Master Fashioner calls his , For to Gipsies Metamorphosis ; Who doth disguise his habit , and his face , And takes on a false person by his place : The power of Poetrie can never faile her ; Assisted by a Barber , and a Taylor . FINIS .
THE MASQUE OF AUGURES . WITH THE SEVERALL ANTIMASQVES PRESENTED ON TWELFE-NIGHT , 1622.
The first Antimasque had for the SCENE The Court Buttry-hatch . The Presenters were from St. KATHARINES , Notch a Brewers Clarke , Slug a Lighterman , Van-goose a rare Artist ; Lady Alewife , her two Women , three dancing Beares , Urson the Bear-ward , Groome of the Revells . NOTCH .

COme , now my head 's in , I le even venture the whole : I ha seene the Lyons ere now , and he that hath seene them may see the King .

SIVG .

I think he may ; but have a care you go not too high ( neighbour Notch ) least you chance to have a Tally made of your pate , and bee clawed with a cudgell ; there is as much danger going too neere the King , as the Lyons .

GROOM .

Whither ? whither now gamesters ? what is the businesse ? the affaire ? stop I beseech you .

NOT.

This must be an Officer , or nothing , he is so peart and breife in his demands ! a pretty man ! and a pretty man is a little o' this side nothing ; howsoever we must not be daunted now , I am sure I am a greater man than he out of the Court , and I have lost nothing of my Sire since I came to it .

GROOM .

Hey-da ! what 's this ? A hogshead of beere broake out of the Kings buttery , ro some Dutch Hulke ! whether are you bound ? The winde is against you , you must backe ; doe you know where you are ?

NOT.

Yes sir , if we bee not mistaken , we are at the Court , and would be glad to speake with something of lesse authority , and more wit , that knowes a little in the place .

GRO.

Sir , I know as little as any man in the place ; speake , what is your businesse ? I am an Officer , Groome of the Revels , that is my place .

NOT.

To fetch Bonge of Court a parcell of invisible bread , and beere for the Plaiers ( for they never see it ) or to mistake sixe Torches from the Chandry , and give them one .

GRO.

How sir ?

NOT.

Come , this is not the first time you have carried coales to your owne house , I meane that should have warm'd them .

GROOM .

Sir , I may doe it by my place , and I must question you farther .

NOT.

Be not so musty sir , our desire is only to know whether the Kings Majesty , and the Court expect any disguise here to night .

GRO.

Disguise ! what meane you by that ? doe you thinke that his Majesty sits here to expect drunkards ?

NOT.

No , if hee did , I beleeve you would supply that place better then you do this : Disguise was the old English word for a Masque sir , before you were an implement belonging to the Revels .

GR.

There is no such word in the Office now I assure you sir , I have serv'd here , man , and boy a Prentiship or twaine , and I should know . But , by what name so ever you call it , here will be a Masque , and shall be a Masque , when you and the rest of your Comrogues shall sit disguis'd in the stocks .

NOTCH .

Sure by your language you were never meant for a Courtier , howsoever it hath beene your ill fortune to be taken out of the nest young ; you are some Constables egge , some such Widgin of Authoritie , you are so easily offended ! Our comming was to shew our loves sir , and to make a little merry with his Majesty to night , and we have brought a Masque with us , if his Majestie had not beene better provided .

GROOME .

Who you ? you a Masque ? why you stincke like so many bloat-herrings newly taken out of the chimney ! In the name of Ignorance , whence came you ? or what are you ? you have beene hang'd in the smoake sufficiently , that is smelt out alreadie .

NOTCH .

Sir , we doe come from among the Brewhouses in Saint Katherines , that 's true , there you have smoak'd us ( the Docke comfort your nosthrills , ) and we may have lived in a mist there , and so mist our purpose ; but for mine owne part I have brought my properties with me to expresse what I am ; the keyes of my calling hang here at my girdle , and this the Register booke of my function shewes mee no lesse then a Clarke at all points , and a Brewers Clarke , and a Brewers head Clarke .

GRO.

A man of accompt sir ! I cry you mercie .

SLVG.

I sir , I knew him a fine Merchant , a merchant of Hops , till all hopt into the water .

NOTCH .

No more of that , what I have beene , I have beene ; what I am , I am : I Peter Notch , Clarke , hearing the Christmas invention was drawne drie at Court ; and that neither the KINGS Poet , nor his Architect had wherewithall left to entertaine so much as a Baboone of quality , nor scarce the Welsh Embassadour if hee should come there : Out of my allegiance , to wit , drew in some other friends that have as it were presumed out of their own naturalls , to fill up the vacuum with some pretty presentation , which we have addressed , and conveighed hither in a Lighter at the generall charge , and landed at the backe doore of the Buttery , through my neighbour Slug's credit there .

SLVG.

A poore Lighter-man sir , one that hath had the honour sometimes to lay in the Kings beere there ; and I assure you I heard it in no worse place then the very Buttry , for a certaine , there would bee no Masque , and from such as could command a jacke of beere , two , or three .

VAN.

Dat is all true , exceeding true , de inventors be barren , lost , two , dre , vour mile , I know that from my selven ; dey have no ting , no ting van deir owne , but dat dey take vrom de eard , or de zea , or de heaven , or de hell , or de rest van de veir Clementen , de place a , dat be so common as de vench in de Burdello . Now me would bring in some dainty new ting , dat never was , nor never sall be in de rebus natura ; dat has neder van de materia , nor de forma , nor de hoffen , nor de voote , but a mera devisa of de braine —

GROOM .

Hey-da ! what Hans Flutter kin is this ? what Dutchman doe's build or frame Castles in the Aire ?

NOT.

He is no Dutch man sir , he is a Brittaine borne , but hath learn'd to misuse his owne tongue in travell , and now speakes all languages in ill English ; a rare Artist he is sir , and a Projector of Masques . His Project in ours is , that we should all come from the three dancing Beares in Saint Katherines ( you may hap know it sir ) hard by where the Priest fell in , which Alehouse is kept by a distressed Lady ; whose name ( for the honour of Knighthood ) will not bee knowne ; yet she is come in person here Errant , to fill up the adventure with her two women that draw drinke under her , Gentlewomen borne all three , I assure you .

SLVG.

And were three of those Gentlewomen that should have acted in that famous matter of Englands joy in sixe hundred and three .

LADY .

What talke you of England's joy , Gentlemen ? you have another matter in hand I wis , Englands sport and delight if you can manage it . The poore Cattle yonder are passing away the time , with a cheat loafe , and a bumbard of broken beere , how will ye dispose of them ?

GRO.

Cattle ! what cattle doe's she meane ?

LADY .

No worse then the Kings game I assure you ; The Beares , Beares both of qualitie and fashion , right Beares , true Beares .

NOT.

A devise only to expresse the place from whence we come ( my Ladies house ) for which we have borrowed three very Beares that ( as her Ladyship aforesayd sayes ) are well bred , and can dance to present the signe , and the Beareward to stand for the signe-poast .

GRO.

That is prettie ; but are you sure you have sufficient Beares for the purpose .

SLVG.

Very sufficient Beares as any are in the Ground , the Parish-Garden , and can dance at first sight , and play their owne tunes if need bee . Iohn Vrson the Beare-ward , offers to play them with any Citie-dancers christned , for a ground measure .

NOT.

Marry , for lofty tricks , or dancing on the Ropes hee will not undertake , it is out of their element he sayes . Sir , all our request is since we are come , we may be admitted , if not for a Masque , for an Antickmask ; and as we shall deserve therein , we desire to be returned with credit to the Buttry from whence we came , for reward , or to the Porters Lodge with discredit , for our punishment .

GRO.

To be whipt with your Beares ? Well , I could bee willing to venture a good word in behalfe of the Game , if I were assured the aforesayd game would be cleanly , and not fright the Ladies .

NOT.

For that sir , the Bear-ward hath put in securitie , by warranting my Ladie and her Women to dance the whole changes with them in safety ; and for their abusing the place you shall not need to feare , for he hath given them a kinde of Dyet-bread to binde them to their good behaviour .

GRO.

Well , let them come ; if you need one , I le helpe you my selfe .

Enter John Urson with his Beares singing .
Ballad . THough it may seeme rude For me to intrude , With these my Beares by chance-a ; 'T were sport for a King , If they could sing As well as they can dance-a Then to put you out Of feare or doubt , We came from St. Katharin-a ; These dancing three , By the helpe of mee , Who am the Post of the signe-a We sell good ware , And we need not care Though Court , and Country knew it : Our Ale 's o' the best , And each good guest Prayes for their souls that brew it . For any Ale-house , We care not a lowse , Nor Taverne in all the Towne-a ; Nor the Vintry Cranes , Nor St. Clements Danes , Nor the Devill can put us down-a , Who has once there beene , Comes thither agen , The liquour is so mighty ; Beere strong and stale , And so is our Ale , And it burnes like Aquavita . To a stranger there , If any appeare , Where never before he has bin ; We shew th' yron Gate , The wheele of St. Kate , And the place where the Priest fel in . The Wives of Wapping They trudge to our tapping , And still our Ale desire ; And there sit and drinke , Till the spue , and stinke , And often pisse out our fire . From morning to night , And about to day-light , They sit and never grudge it ; Till the Fish-wives joyne Their single coyne , And the Tinker pawnes his budget . If their braines be not well , Or their bladders doe swell , To ease them of their burden ; My Ladie will come With a bowle and a broome , And her Hand-mayd with a Iorden . From Court we invite Lord , Ladie , and knight ; Squire , gentlman , yeoman and groom . And all our stiffe drinkers , Smiths , Porters , and Tinkers , And the beggars shall give ye roome .
VAN.

How like you ? how like you ?

GRO.

Excellent ! The Beares have done learnedly , and sweetly .

VAN.

T is noting , t is noting ; vill you see someting ? Ick sall bring in de Turk●chen , met all zin Bashawes , and zin dirty towsand Yanitsaries met all zin Whooren Cunuken , all met an auder , de Sofie van Persia , de Tartar Cham met de great King of Mogull , and make deir men , and deir horse , and deir Elephant en be seene fight in de ayre , and be all killen , and aliven , and no such ting . And all dis met de Ars van de Catropricks , by de reflesbie van de glassen .

NOT.

Oh , he is an admirable Artist .

SLVG.

And a halfe sir .

GRO.

But where will he place his glasses ?

VAN.

Fow , dat is all ean , as it be two , dree , veir , vife tousand Mile off : Ick sall multipliren de vizioun , met an ander secret dat Ick heb : Spreck , vat vil you haben ?

GRO.

Good sir put him too t , bid him doe something that is impossible ; he will undertake it I warrant you .

NOT.

I doe not like the Mogul , nor the great Turke , nor the Tartar , their names are somewhat to big for the Roome ; marry if he could shew us some Countrey Plaiers , strolling about in severall Shires , without licence from the Office , that would please I know whom , or some Welsh Pilgrims .

VAN.

Pilgrim ? now yow talke of de Pilgrim , it come in my head , Ick vill shew yow all de whole brave Pilgrim o 'de Vorld : de Pilgrim dat goe now , now at de instant , two , dre towsand Mile to de great Mahomet , at de Mecha , or here , dere , every where , make de fine Labyrints , and shew all de brave error in de vorld .

SLVG.

And shall we see it here ?

NAN.

Yau , here , here , here in dis Roome , t is very Roome : vel vat is dat to yow if Ick doe de ting ? vat an devill , vera boten devill ?

GRO.

Nay , good sir be not angry .

NOT.

'T is a disease that followes all excellent men , they cannot governe their passions ; but let him alone , try him one 'bout .

GRO.

I would try him , but what has all this to doe with our Maske ?

VAN.

O Sir , all de better vor an Antick-maske , de more absurd it be , and vrom de purpose , it be ever all de better . If it goe from de nature of de ting , it is de more Art : for deare is Art , and deare is Nature , yow sall see . Hochos-pochos , Paucos , Palabros .

The Second Antimaske . Which was a perplex'd Dance of straying and deform'd Pilgrims taking severall pathes , till with the opening of the light above , and breaking forth of Apollo , they were all frighted away , and the Maine Masque begun .
APOLLO (a) (a) Artes eximias quatuor Apollini acceptas tulit antiquitas descending , Sung . IT is no dreame , you all doe wake , and see ; Behold , who comes ! (b) (b) Sagittandi peretiam , unde apud Homerum , frequens illud Epithetom 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , longe jaculans . far-shooting Phoebus he That can both hurt and (c) (c) Medicinam , unde Medici nomen adeptus . heale ; and with his (d) (d) Musicam , unde 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , appellatus . voyce Reare Townes , and make societies rejoyce ; That taught the Muses all their harmonie , (e) (e) Et Divinationem ( in qua etiam Augurium ) unde Augur Apollo dictus , Virg. Aeneid . lib. 4. & Horat. Car. lib. 1. Ode . 2. Nube cadentes humeros amictus Augur Apollo . Et Car. saecul . ult. ubi doctissimus Poeta quas artes totidem versibus complectitur . Augur & fulgente decorus arcu Phoebus , acceptus que no●●● 〈…〉 , Qui salutari levat arte fessos corporis artu● . And men the tunefull Art of Augurie . Apollo stoopes , and when a God descends , May Mortalls thinke he hath no vulgar ends .
Being neere the earth , he call'd these persons following , who came forth as from their Tombes . (f) (f) Linus Appollinis & Terpsichores filius . Paus . LInus , and (g) (g) Orpheus , Apollinis & Calliopes , de quibus Virg , in Ecloga inscript . Non me Carminibus vincet , nec Thraetius Orpheus . Nec Linus , huic mater quamvis , atque huic pater ad●●● Orphei Calliopea Lino formosus Apollo . Orpheus , (h) (h) Branchus , Apollinis & Jances filius , de quo vid. Strab. lib. 4. & Statium , Thebaid . lib. 3 — patrioque aequalis honori Branchus . Branchus , (i) (i) Jdmon , Apollinis & Aft●ries filius . De illo vid. Valer. Flac. lib. 1. Argonautic . — Contra Phoebius Idmon non pallore vtris non ullo honore comarum terriblis , plenus fatis , Phoeboque quieto cui genitor tribunt praenoscere Divum Omina , seu Flammas , seu lubrica cominus exta seuplenum cert●● interroget ●ëra penni● . Idmon , all My sacred Sons , rise at your Fathers call From your immortall Graves ; where sleepe , not death , Yet bindes your powers . LINVS .

Here.

ORPHEVS .

Here.

BRANCHVS . What sacred breath Doth re-inspire us ? IDMON .

Who is this we feele ?

PHOEMONOE . (k) (k) Phoemoen filia Phoebi quae prima carmen heroïcum cecinit . Hesiod . in Theog What heat creepes through me , as when burning steele Is dipt in water ? Apollo . I , Phoemonoe , Thy Father Phoebus 's fury filleth thee ; Confesse my Godhead ; once againe I call , Let whole Apollo enter in you all , And follow me . CHORVS . We flie , we doe not tread , The Gods doe use to ravish whom they lead . Apollo descended , shewed them where the King sate , and sung forward . BEhold the love and care of all the Gods Of the Ocean , and the happie Iles ; That whilst the World about him is at ods , Sits Crowned Lord here of himselfe , and smiles . CHORVS . To see the erring mazes of mankinde ; Who seeke for that , doth punish them to finde . Then he advanced with them to the King . APOLLO . PRince of thy Peace , see what it is to love The Powers above ! Jove hath commanded me To visit thee ; And in thine honour with my (l) (l) Allus●●●d illud Ovidij Epistol. Epist. Parid. Ilion aspicies , s●mataque turribus altis Moenia Apolline e●●ruc●●a avore lyrae Musique reare (m) (m) Augurandi scientia nobilis erat & antiqua , apud Gentes praestitam Heraeseos : quibus erat Collegium & Domicilium celeberrimum Augurum , quorum summa fuit Authoritas & Dignitas per totam Italiam potissimum Romae . Romulus urbe conacta , Collegium & Augures ●●●instatuit , ipse nobiles , ut apud Liu. Lib. & Tull. lib. 1. Optimus Augur . Eorum officium fuit auspicia captare & ex●i●s colligere signa futurarum rerum , Deorumque monita considerare de eventibus prosperi● vel adversis . Sacer erat Romanis & res regia habita , dignitasque penes patricios & principes viros mansit etiam apud Imperatores obtinuit unde ab Apolline nostro , tales Praeses pulchre designatus a Colledge here , Of tunefull Augures , whose divining skill , shall waite thee still , And be the Heralds of his highest will . The worke is done , And I have made their President thy Sonne ; Great Mars too , on these nights , (n) (n) Saltationes in rebus sacris ad hibebantur apud omnes pene gentes : & à saliendo , seu saltatione sacra ad saliare carmen institut â ●dlij dicti & Marti consecrati . Omnes etiam qui ad cantum & tibiam ludebant Salij & Salisubsul● dicebantur . Salius , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 vet. gloss . & Pacuvi . Pro Imperio sic Salisubsulus vest●ro excubet Mars . & Virg. ● Aeneid lib. 8. Tum Salij ad Cantus incensa altariacircum populeis adsunt evinct● tempora ramis . hath added Salian rites . Yond , yond afarre , They closed in their (o) (o) Auguria captaturi coelum eligebant purum & serenum , quaeque mitido Lituum ( qui erat baculus incurvus Augurale Signum ) manu tenebat Augur . Eocoeli regiones designabant , & multas extra quas contineri debebant Auguria : & hae vocabantur Templa ▪ und● Contem latio dic●●●●s● Consideratio & meditatio rerum sacrarum , ut dextrum sinisirumque latus observaret . I●●mpet●●●● sibi ipso regiones definiebat ; in oblato marum suam respexit laevam aut dextram . Regiones ab● 〈…〉 passum terminabat limite decuma●o , & cardine ex tranverso signo metato , quo occuli ferrent qua illo●●g●ssime . Artica in Ortum vergebat . Postica regio à Tergo ad occasum . Dextra ad meridiem . Sinistra ad septentrionem . Observationes debant Augure sedente , capite velato , toga duplici Augurali candida amicto , à mediâ nocte ad mediam diem , crescente non deficiente die . Neque captabantur Auguria post●menisem Julium , propterea quod Aves redderentur imbiciliores & morbidae , Pullique eorum possent impersi●●li . Temple are , And each one guided by a starre . CHORVS . Haste , haste , to meet them , and as they advance 'twixt every Dance ; Let us interpret their Prophetick trance . Here they fetch'd out the Maskers , and came before them with the Torch-bearers along the Stage , singing this full Song . APOLLO and CHORUS . WHich way , and whence the lightning flew , Or how it burned , bright , and blew , Designe , and figure by your lights : Then forth , and shew the severall flights Your (p) (p) Augurandi scientia 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 dicta . Divinatio per aves . Aves aut Oscines , aut Prepetes Oscines , quae ore , Proepetes , quae volatu Augurium significant ▪ Pullitripudio . Aves auspicatae , & Praepetes , Aquila , Vultur , Sanqualis seu ossifraga , Triarches , sive Buteo , Immussulus , Accipiter , Cygnus , Columba , Oscines , Cornix , Cornus , Anser , Ciconia , Ardea , Noctua , inauspicatae ; Milvus , ●arra , Nycticorax , Striges , Hirundo , Picus , &c. Birds have made , or what the wing Or voyce in Augurie doth bring . Which hand the Crow cried on , how high The Vulture , or the Erne did flie , What wing the Swan made , and the Dove , The Storke , and which did get above : Shew all the Birds of food or Prey , But passe by the unluckie Jay , The Night-Crow , Swallow , or the Kite Let those have neither right , CHOR. Nor part , In this nights art . The Torch-bearers daunced . After which the Augures layd by their Staves , and Danced their Entrie , which done , APOLLO and the rest , interpreted the Augurie . APOLLO . THe Signes are (q) (q) Habebant dextra & laeva omnia ; antica & postica ; Orientalia & Occident●lia . Graeci cum se od Septentrionem obverterent , Ortum ad dextram habuere . Romani cum Meridiem in auspicando cum tuerentur Ortum ad laevam habuere . Itaque sinistrae partes eadem sunt Romanis quae Graecis dextrae ad ortum . Sinistra igitur illis meliora , Dextra pejora : Graecis contrà . Sinistra , pertinentia ad ortum : Salutaria , qui ortus lucis index & auctor . Dextra , quia spectant occasum tristia . luckie all , and (q) (q) Habebant dextra & laeva omnia ; antica & postica ; Orientalia & Occident●lia . Graeci cum se od Septentrionem obverterent , Ortum ad dextram habuere . Romani cum Meridiem in auspicando cum tuerentur Ortum ad laevam habuere . Itaque sinistrae partes eadem sunt Romanis quae Graecis dextrae ad ortum . Sinistra igitur illis meliora , Dextra pejora : Graecis contrà . Sinistra , pertinentia ad ortum : Salutaria , qui ortus lucis index & auctor . Dextra , quia spectant occasum tristia . right There hath not beene a voyce , or flight Of ill Presage . Linus . The (r) (r) Columbae augura non nisi regibus dant ; quia nunquam singulae volant : sicut Rex nunquam selus incedit . Nuntiae pacis . bird that brings Her Augurie alone to Kings The Dove , hath flowne . Orpheus . And to thy peace Fortunes and the Fates increase . BRANCHUS . (s) (s) Ardea , & Ardeola , rerum arduarum auspicium . Minervae sacra . Apud Homer . Iliad . K. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Minerva's Hernshaw and her Owle , Doe both proclaime , thou shalt controle The course of things . Idmon . As now they be With tumult carried : Apollo . And live free From hatred , faction , or the feare , To blast the Olive thou dost weare . CHORVS . More is behind , which these doe long to show , And what the Gods to so great vertue owe. The maine Daunce . CHORUS . Still , still the (t) (t) Auspicium , ab ave specienda . Paul . Nam quod nos cum praepositione dicimus ASPICIO apud veteres sine praepositione SPICIO dicebatur . Auspice is so good , We wish it were but understood ; It even puts Apollo To all his strengths of art , to follow , (u) (u) Signa quae sese offerent , erat multifaria : nam s●obieceretur avis aliqua , considerabatur quo volatu ferretur , an abliquo vel prono , vel supinomotu Corporis , quo flecteret , contorqueret , aut contraharet membra ; qua in parte seoccultaret ; an ad dextram vel sinistraem canerent Oscines , &c. The flights , and to devine What 's meant by every Signe . Thou canst not lesse be , then the charge of every Dietie . That thus art left here to inlarge , And shield their pietie ! Thy neighbours at thy fortune long have gaz'd , But at thy wisdome , all doe stand amaz'd . And wish to be , O'recome , or governed by thee ! Safetie it selfe so sides thee , where thou goest , And Fate still offers what thou covet'st most ! THE REVELLS . After which Apollo went up to the King and Sung . Doe not expect to heare of all Your good at once , lest it forestall A sweetnesse would be new : Some things the Fates would have conceal'd From us the Gods , lest being reveal'd Our powers shall envy you . It is enough your people learne The reverence of your peace As well as Strangers doe discerne The Glories , by th' increase And that the (x) (x) Romulus augur fuit , & Numa , & reliqui reges Romani sicut ante eos Turnus , Rhamnetes & alij . Lacedemonij suis regibus Augurem Assessorem dabant , Cilices , Lycij , Cares , Arabes , in summa veneratione habuerunt Auguria . princely Augur here , your Sonne Doe by his Fathers lights his courses run . CHORUS . Him shall you see triumphing over all Both foes and vices : and your young and tall Nephewes , his Sonnes grow up in your imbraces , To give this Iland Princes in long races . Here the heaven opened ; and Jove , with the Senate of the Gods , were discovered , while Apollo returne● to his Seat , and ascending sung . APOLLO . SEE heaven expecteth my returne ▪ The forked fire begins to burne , Jove beckons to me come . JOVE . Though Phoebus be the god of Arts , Hee must not take on him all parts : But leave his Frather some . APOLLO . My arts are only to obey . JOVE . (y) (y) Vide Orpheum in hymn . de omnip . Jovis . And mine to sway Jove is that one , whom first , midst , last , you call The power that governes , and conserveth all ; Earth , Sea , and Ayre , are subject to our checke , And Fate with heaven , moving at our beck . Till Jove it ratifie , It is no Augurie , Though uttered by the mouth of Destinie . APOLLO .

Deare father , give the Signe , and seale it then .

The Earth riseth .

It is the suit of Earth and Men.

JOVE .

What doe their Mortals crave without our wrong ?

Earth with the rest . That Jove will lend us this our Soveraigne long ; Let our grand-children , and not wee , His want or Absence ever see . JOVE . Your wish is blest . (z) (z) Mos Jovis , annuendo votis & firmandis omnibus . Apud Homer , &c. Jove knocks his Chin against his brest , And firmes it with the rest . CHORUS . Sing then his fame , through all the orbes ; in even Proportions , rising still , from Earth to Heaven : And of the lasting of it leave to doubt , The power of time shall never put that out .

This done , the whole Scaene shut , and the Maskers danced their last Dance .

The End .
TIME VINDICATED TO HIMSELFE , AND TO HIS HONORS . In the presentation at COVRT on Twelfth night . 1623. — qui semirantur , in illos Virus habe : nos haec novimus esse nihil . TIME VINDICATED . A Trumpet sounded . FAME entreth , follow'd by the Curious , the Ey'd , the Ear'd , and the Nos'd . FAME .

GIve eare , the worthy , heare what Fame proclaimes .

EARES .

What ? what ? I' st worth our eares ?

EIES.

Or eyes ?

NOSE . Or noses ? For we are curious , Fame : indeed , the Curious . EIES.

We come to spie .

EARES .

And hearken .

NOSE .

And smell out .

FAME .

More than you understand , my hot Inquisitors ,

NOES .

We cannot tell .

EIES.

It may be .

EARES .

However , goe you on , let us alone .

EIES.

We may spie out , that , which you never mean't .

NOSE .

And nose the thing you sent not . First , whence come you ?

FAME .

I came from Saturne .

EARES .

Saturne , what is he ?

NOSE . Some Protestant I warrant you , a Time-server , As Fame her selfe is . FAME . You are neere the right . Indeed , he is Time it selfe , and his name KRONOS , NOSE . How ! Saturne ! Chronos ! and the Time it selfe ! You 're found : inough . A notable old Pagan ! EARES .

One of their Gods , and eates up his owne children .

NOSE . A Fencer , and do's travell with a sith Instead of a long-sword . EIES. Hath beene oft call'd from it , To be their Lord of misrule . EARES . As Cincinnatus Was from the plough , to be Dictator . EIES. Yes . We need no interpreter , on , what of Time ? FAME . The Time hath sent me with my Trumpe to summon All sorts of persons worthy , to the view Of some great spectacle he meanes to night , T'exhibite ; and with all solemnitie . NOSE .

O , we shall have his Saturnalia .

EIES.

His dayes of feast , and libertie agen .

EARES .

Where men might doe , and talke all that they list .

EIES.

Slaves of their lords .

NOSE .

The servants of their masters !

EARES .

And subjects of their Soveraigne .

FAME .

Not so lavish .

EARES .

It was a brave time that !

EIES. This will be better : I spie it comming , peace . All the impostures , The prodigies , diseases , and distempers , The knaveries of the Time , we shall see all now . EARES . And heare the passages , and severall humors Of men , as they are swayd by their affections : Some grumbling , and some mutining , some scoffing , Some pleas'd , some pyning , at all these we laughing . NOSE . I have it here , here , strong , the sweat of it , And the confusion ( which I love ) I nose it , It tickles mee . EIES.

My foure eies itch for it .

EARES . And my eares tingle , would it would come forth : This roome will not receive it . NOSE .

That 's the feare .

Enter CHRONO-MASTIX . CHRON.

What ? what ? my friends , will not this roome receive ?

EIES.

That which the Time is presently to shew us .

CHRO. The Time ? Lo I the man , that hate the time That is , that love it not ; and ( though in ryme , I here doe speake it ) with this whipp you see , Doe lash the Time , and am myselfe lash-free . FAME .

Who 's this ?

EARES .

'T is Chronomastix , the brave Satyre ,

NOSE . The gentleman-like Satyre , cares for no body , His fore-head tip't with bayes , doe you not know him ? EIES.

Yes Fame must know him , all the Town admires him .

CHRO. If you would see Time quake and shake , but name us , It is for that , we are both belov'd , and famous . EIES.

We know , Sir . But the Time 's now come about .

EARES .

And promiseth all libertie .

NOSE .

Nay licence .

EIES.

We shall doe what we list .

EARES .

Talke what we list .

NOSE .

And censure whom we list , and how we list .

CHRO. Then I will looke on Time , and love the same , And drop my whip : who 's this ! my Mistris ! Fame ! The lady whom I honour , and adore ! What lucke had I not to see her before ! Pardon me , Madam , more than most accurst , That did not spie your Ladiship at first , T' have giv'n the stoop , and to salute the skirts Of her , to whom all Ladies else are flirts ! It is for you , I revell so in rime , Deare Mistris , not for hope I have the Time Will grow the better by it . To serve Fame Is all my end , and get my selfe a name . FAME . Away , I know thee not , wretched Impostor , Creature of glory , Mountebanke of witte , Selfe-loving Braggart , Fame doth sound no trumpet To such vaine , empty fooles : 'T is Infamy Thou serv'st , and follow'st , scorne of all the Muses , Goe revell with thine ignorant admirers , Let worthy names alone . CHRO. O , you the Curious , Breath you to see a passage so injurious , Done with despight , and carried with such tumor 'Gainst me , that am so much the friend of rumor ? ( I would say Fame ? ) whose Muse hath rid in rapture On a soft ambling verse to every capture , From the strong guard , to the weake childe that reades me , And wonder both of him that loves , or dread's me ! Who with the lash of my immortall pen Have scourg'd all sorts of vices , and of men ! Am I rewarded , thus ? have I , I say , From Envies selfe torne praise , and bayes away , With which my glorious front , and word at large , Triumphs in print at my admirers charge . EARES .

Rare ! how he talkes in verse , just as he writes !

CHRO. When have I walk't the streets , but happy he That had the finger first to point at mee , Prentice , or Journeyman ! The shop doth know it ! The unletter'd Clarke ! major and minor Poet ! The Sempster hath sate still as I pass'd by , And dropt her needle ! Fish-wives staid their cry ▪ The Boy with buttons , and the Basket wench ! To vent their wares into my workes do trench ! A pudding-wife that would despise the Times , Hath utter'd frequent pen'worths , through my rimes , And , with them , div'd into the Chamber-maid , And she unto her Lady hath convay'd The season'd morsels , who hath sent me pensions , To cherish , and to heighten my inventions . Well , Fame shall know it yet , I have my faction , And friends about me , though it please detraction , To doe me this affront . Come forth that love me , And now , or never , spight of Fame , approve me . At this the Mutes come in . THE ANTIMASQUERS . FAME .

How now ! what 's here ? Is hell broke loose ?

EIES. You 'l see . That he ha's favourers , Fame , and great ones too . That unctuous Bounty , is the Bosse of Belinsgate , EARES .

Who feasts his Muse with claret wine , and oysters ,

NOSE .

Growes big with Satyre ;

EARES .

Goes as long as an Elephant :

EIES.

She labours , and lies in of his inventions ,

NOSE . Ha's a male - poem in her belly now , Big as a colt , EARES .

That kicks at Time already ,

EIES.

And is no sooner foald , but will neigh sulphure :

FAME .

The next ?

EARES . A quondam Justice , that of late Hath beene discarded out o' the pack o' the peace , For some lewd levitie he holds in capite , But constantly loves him . In dayes of yore , He us'd to give the charge out of his poems , He carries him about him , in his pocket , As Philip's Sonne did Homer , in a casket , And cries , O happy Man , to the wrong party , Meaning the Poet , where he meant the subject : FAME .

What are this paire ?

EIES.

The ragged rascalls ?

FAME .

Yes .

EIES. Meere rogues , you 'ld thinke them rogues , but they are friends , One is his Printer in disguise , and keepes His presse in a hollow tree , where to conceale him , He workes by glow-worme light , the Moone 's too open . The other zealous ragge is the Compositor , Who in an angle , where the ants inhabite , ( The emblem 's of his labours ) will sit curl'd Whole dayes , and nights , and worke his eyes out for him . NOSE . Strange arguments of love ! There is a Schoolemaster Is turning all his workes too , into Latine , To pure Satyricke Latine ; makes his Boyes To learne him ; calls him the times Juvenal ; Hangs all his Schoole with his sharpe sentences ; And o're the Execution place hath painted Time whipt , for terror to the Infantery . EIES. This Man of warre , i' the rere , He is both Trumpet And Champion to his Muse . EARES .

For the whole City .

NOSE . H 'as him by roat , recites him at the tables , Where he doth governe ; sweares him into name , Upon his word , and sword , for the sole youth Dares make profession of Poetick truth , Now militant amongst us : To th' incredulous , That dagger is an article he uses , To rivet his respect into their pates , And make them faithful . Fame , you 'l find you 'ave wrongd him . FAME .

What a confederacie of Folly is here !

They all daunce but Fame , and make the first Antimasque , In which they adore , and carry forth the Satyre , and the Curious come up agen . EIES.

Now Fame , how like you this ?

EARES . This falls upon you For your neglect . NOSE . He scornes you , and defies you , H 'as got a Fame on 's owne , as well as a Faction . EIES.

And these will deifie him , to despite you .

FAME . I envie not the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . 'T will prove but deifying of a Pompion . NOSE .

Well , what is that the Time will now exhibite ?

EIES.

What gambols ? what devises ? what new sports ?

EARES .

You promis'd us , we should have any thing .

NOSE .

That Time would give us all we could imagine .

FAME .

You might imagine so , I never promis'd it .

EIES. Pox , then 't is nothing . I had now a fancie We might have talk'd o' the King . EARES .

Or State .

NOSE .

Or all the World .

EIES.

Censur'd the Counsell , e're they censure us .

EARES .

We doe it in Pauls .

NOSE .

Yes , and in all the tavernes !

FAME . A comely licence . They that censure those They ought to reverence , meet they that old curse , To beg their bread , and feele eternall Winter . Ther 's difference 'twixt liberty , and licence . NOSE . Why if it be not that , let it be this then ( For since you grant us freedome , we will hold it , ) Let 's have the giddy world turn'd the heeles upward , And sing a rare blacke Sanctus , on his head , Of all things out of order . EIES. No , the Man I' the Moone daunce a Corranto , his bush At 's backe , a fire ; and his dogge piping Lachrimae . EARES . Or let 's have all the people in an uprore , None knowing , why , or to what end : and in The midd'st of all , start up an old mad woman Preaching of patience . NOSE .

No , no , I 'ld ha' this .

EIES.

What ?

FAME .

Any thing .

NOSE . That could be monstrous : Enough , I meane . A Babel of wild humours . EARES .

And all disputing of all things they know not ,

EIES.

And talking of all men they never heard of ,

EARES .

And all together by the eares o' the sudden ,

EIES. And , when the matter is at hottest , then All fall asleepe . FAME . Agree among your selves , And what it is you 'ld have , I 'le answer you . EIES.

O , that we shall never doe .

EARES .

No , never agree .

NOSE .

Not upon what . Something that is unlawfull .

EARES .

I , or unreasonable .

EIES.

Or impossible .

NOSE .

Let 't be uncivill enough , you hit us right .

EARES .

And a great noyse .

EIES.

To little , or no purpose .

NOSE .

And if there be some mischiefe , 't will become it .

EIES.

But see , there be no cause , as you will answer it .

FAME .

These are meere Monsters .

NOSE .

I , all the better .

FAME . You doe abuse the Time . These are fit freedomes For lawlesse Prentices , on a Shrovetuesday , When they compell the Time to serve their riot . For drunken Wakes , and strutting Beare-baytings , That savour only of their owne abuses . EIES.

Why , if not those , then something to make sport .

EARES .

Wee only hunt for novelty , not truth .

FAME .

I 'le fit you , though the Time faintly permit it .

The second Antimasque of Tamblers , and Juglers , brought in by the Cat and fiddle , who make sport with the Curious , and drive them away . FAME . Why now they are kindly us'd , like such spectators , That know not what they would have . Commonly , The curious are ill natur'd , and like flies , Seeke Times corrupted parts to blow upon : But may the sound ones live with fame , and honour , Free from the molestation of these Insects : Who being fled , Fame now persues her errand . Loud MVSIQUE . To which the whole Scene opens , where Saturne sitting with Venus is discover'd above , and certaine Votaries comming forth below , which are the Chorus . FAME . For you , great King , to whom the Time doth owe All his respects , and reverence , behold How Saturne , urged at request of Love , Prepares the object to the place to night . Within yond' darknesse , Venus hath found out That Hecate ( as she is Queene of shades ) Keepes certaine glories of the Time obscur'd , There , for her selfe alone to gaze upon , As she did once the faire Endimion . These , Time hath promis'd at Loves suit to free , As being fitter to adorne the age , By you restor'd on earth , most like his owne : And fill this world of beautie here , your Court. To which his bountie , see , how men prepare To fit their votes below , and thronging come With longing passion to enjoy th' effect ! Harke , it is Love begins to Time . Expect . VENUS . Beside , that it is done for Love , It is a worke , great Time , will prove Thy honour , as mens hopes above . SATURNE . If Love be pleased , so am I : For Time could never yet deny What Love did aske , if Love knew why . VOTARIES . Shee knew , and hath exprest it now . And so doth every publike vow That heard her why , and waites thy how . SATURNE . You shall not long expect : with ease The things come forth , are borne to pleass : Looke , have you seene such lights as these ? The Masquers are discovered , and that which obscur'd them , vanisheth . VOTARIES .

These , these must sure some wonders bee !

CHORUS . O , what a glory 't is to see Mens wishes , Time , and Love agree A Pause There SATVRNE and VENVS passe away , and the Masquers descend . CHORUS . What griefe , or envie had it beene , That these , and such had not beene seene , But still obscur'd in shade ! Who are the glories of the Time , Of youth , and feature too , the prime , And for the light were made ! VOTARIES . 1 Their very number , how it takes ! 2 What harmony their presence makes ! 3 How they inflame the place ! CHORVS . Now they are neerer seene , and viewd ; For whom could Love have better su'd ? Or Time have done the grace ? Hereto a loud Musique , they march into their figure . and daunce their ENTRY , or first DAVNCE . After which . VENUS . The night could not these glories misse , Good Time , I hope , is ta'ne with this . SATURNE . If Time were not , I 'am sure Love is . Betweene us it shall be no strife : For now 't is Love , gives Time his life . VOTARIES . Let Time then so with Love conspire , as straight be sent into the court A little Cupid , arm'd with fire , Attended by a jocund Sport , To breed delight , and a desire of being delighted , in the nobler sort . SATURNE .

The wish is crown'd , as soone as made .

VOTARIES . And CVPID conquers , e're he doth invade . His victories of lightest trouble prove . For there is never labour , where is Love . Then , followes the maine DAVNCE , which done , CVPID , with the SPORT , goes out . CUPID . Take breath awhile , young Blouds , to bring To the Masquers . Your forces up , whilst we goe sing Fresh charges , to the Beauties here . SPORT . Or , if they charge you , doe not feare , Though they be better arm'd then you : It is but standing the first view , And then they yeeld . CUPID .

Or quit the field .

SPORT . Nay , that they 'l never doe . They 'l rather fall upon the place , Then suffer such disgrace . You are but Men at best , they say , And they from those ne're ran away . Pause . CUIPID . You , Sir , that are the Lord of Time , To the King . Receive it not as any crime 'Gainst Majesty , that Love and Sport Tonight have entred in your Court. SPORT . Sir , doubt him more of some surprise Vpon your selfe . He hath his eyes . You are the noblest object here , And 't is for you alone I feare : For here are Ladyes , that would give A brave reward , to make Love live Well , all his life , for such a draught . And therefore , looke to every shaft , The Wags a Deacon in his craft . Pause . CUPID . My Lords , the Honors of the Crowne , To the Lords . Put off your sowrenesse , doe not frowne , Bid cares depart , and businesse hence : A little , for the Time dispence . SPORT . Trust nothing that the Boy le ts fall , My Lords , he hath plots upon you all . A Pensioner unto your wives , To keepe you inuxorious gives , And so your sense to fascinate , To make you quit all thought of state , His amorous questions to debate . But , heare his Logicke , he will prove There is no businesse , but to be in love . CUPID . The words of Sport , my Lords , and course . Pause . Your Ladyes yet , will not thinke worse To the Ladies . Of Love for this : they shall command My Bow , my Quiver , and my Hand . SPORT . What , here to stand and kill the Flies ? Alas , thy service they despise . One Beauty here , hath in her eyes , More shafts then from thy bow o're flew , Or that poore quiver knew . These Dames , They need not Love's , they have Natures flames : CUPID .

I see the Beauty , that you so report .

SPORT . Cupid , you must not point in Court ; Where live so many of a sort . Of Harmony these learn'd their speech , The Graces did them footing teach , And , at the old Idalian bralls , They daunc'd your Mother downe . Shee calls . CUPID .

Arme , arme then all .

SPORT . Young blouds come on , And charge : Let every man take one . CUPID .

And try his fate .

SPORT . These are faire warres . And will be carried without scarres . CUPID . A joyning , but of feet , and hands . Is all the Time , and Love commands . SPORT . Or if you doe their gloves off-strip . Or taste the Nectar of the lip : See , so you temper your desires , For kisses , that yee sucke not fires . The REVELS follow , which ended , the CHORVS appeare agen , and DIANA descends to HIPPOLITUS , the whole Scene being chang'd to a Wood , out of which he comes . CHORUS . The Courtly strife is done , it should appeare , Betweene the Youths , and Beauties of the yeare , Wee hope that now these lights will know their spheare , And strive hereafter to shine ever here : Like brightest Planets , still to move In th' eye of Time , and orbes of Love . DIANA . Hippolitus , Hippolitus . HIPPOLITUS . Diana ? DIANA . Shee . Be ready you , or Cephalus , To waite on me . HIPPOLITUS . Wee ever be . DIANA . Your Goddesse hath beene wrong'd to night , By Loves report unto the Time . HIPPOLITUS . The injury , it selfe will right , Which only Fame hath made a crime . For Time is wise , And hath his eares as perfect as his eyes . SATURNE . Who 's that descends ? Diana ? VOTARIES . Yes . VENUS . By like her troope shee hath begun to misse . SATURNE . Let 's meet , and question what her errand is . HIPPOLITVS . Shee will prevent thee , Saturne , not t' ●●●us● Her-selfe unto thee , rather to complaine That thou and Venus both should so abuse The name of Dian , as to entertaine A thought , that she had purpose to defraud The Time , of any glories that nere his : To doe Time honour rather , and applaud His worth , hath beene her study . DIANA . And it is . I call'd these Youth 's forth ; in their bloud ; and prime ( Out of the honour , th●● I bore their parts ) To make them fitter so to serve the Time By labour , riding , and those ancient arts , That first enabled men unto the warres , And furnish'd Heaven with so many Starres : HIPPOLITVS . As Perseus , Castor , Pollux , and the rest , Who were of Hunters first , of Men the best ; Whose shades doe yet remaine within yond' groves , Themselves there sporting with their nobler loves : DIANA .

And so may these doe , if the Time give leave .

SATURNE . Chast Dians purpose we doe now conceive , And yeeld thereto . VENVS .

And so doth Love .

VOTARIES .

All Votes doe in one circle move .

CHORVS . Turne Hunters then , agen . Hunting , it is the noblest exercise , Makes men laborious , active , wise , Brings health , and doth the spirits delight , It help 's the hearing , and the sight : It teacheth arts that never slip The memory , good horsmanship , Search , sharpnesse , courage , and defence , And chaseth all ill habits thence . Turne Hunters then , agen , But not of men . Follow his ample ; And just example , That hates all chace of malice , and of bloud : And studies only wayes of good , To keepe soft Peace in breath . Man should not hunt Mankind to death , But strike the enemies of Man ; Kill vices if you can : They are your wildest beasts . And when they thickest fall , you make the Gods true feasts . The End .
NEPTUNES TRIUMPH FOR THE RETVRNE OF ALBION . CELEBRATED IN A Masque At the Court on the Twelfth night . 1624.

Omnis & ad reducem jam litat ara Deum .

Mart. lib. VIII . Epig. XIV . NEPTVNES TRIVMPH . HIs Matie being set , and the loude Musique ceasing . All , that is discovered of a Scene , are two erected Pillars , dedicated to Neptune , with this inscription upon the one , NEP. RED . On the other , SEC. IOV. The POET entring on the STAGE , to disperse the Argument , is call'd to by the Master-Cooke . COOKE .

Doe you heare , you , Creature of diligence , and businesse ! what is the affaire , that you plucke for so , under your cloake ?

POET.

Nothing , but what I colour for , I assure you ; and may encounter with , I hope , if Luck favour me , the Gamsters Goddesse .

COOKE .

You are a Votary of hers , it seemes by your language . What went you upon ? may a man aske you ?

POET.

Certainties , indeed Sir , and very good ones ; the presentation of a Masque ; you 'll see 't , anone .

COOKE .

Sir , this is my roome , and region too , the banquetting-house . And in matter of feast , the solemnitie , nothing is to be presented here , but with my acquaintance , and allowance to it .

POET.

You are not his Majesties Confectioner ? Are you ?

COOKE .

No , but one that has as good title to the roome , his Master-Cooke . What are you , Sir ?

POET.

The most unprofitable of his servants , I , Sir , the Poet. A kind of a Christmas Ingine ? one , that is used , at least once a yeare , for a trifling instrument , of wit , or so .

COOKE .

Were you ever a Cooke ?

POET.

A Cooke ? no surely .

COOKE .

Then you can be no good Poet : for a good Poet differs nothing at all from a Master-Cooke . Eithers Art is the wisedome of the Mind .

POET.

As how , Sir ?

COOKE .

Expect . I am by my place , to know how to please the palates of the guests ; so , you , are to know the palate of the times : study the severall tastes , what every Nation , the Spaniard , the Dutch , the French , the Walloun , the Neapolitan , the Brittan , the Sicilian , can expect from you .

POET.

That were a heavie and hard taske , to satisfie Expectation , who is so severe an exactresse of duties ; ever a tyrannous mistresse : and most times a pressing enemie .

COOKE .

She is a powerfull great Lady , Sir , at all times , and must be satisfied : So must her sister , Madam Curiositie , who hath as daintie a palate as she , and these will expect .

POET.

But , what if they expect more then they understand ?

COOKE .

That 's all one , Mr. Poet. you are bound to satisfie them . For , there is a palate of the Understanding , as well as of the Senses . The Taste is taken with good relishes , the Sight with faire objects , the Hearing with delicate sounds , the Smelling with pure sents , the feeling with soft and plumpe bodyes , but the Understanding with all these : for all which you must begin at the Kitchin . There , the Art of Poetrie was learn'd , and found out , or no where : and the same day , with the Art of Cookery .

POET.

I should have giv'n it rather to the Cellar , if my suffrage had bin askt .

COOKE .

O , you are for the Oracle of the Bottle , I see ; Hogshead Trismegistus : He is your Pegasus . Thence flowes the spring of your Muses , from that hoofe .

Seduced Poet , I doe say to thee , — A Boyler , Range , and Dresser were the fountaines Of all the knowledge , in the Universe , And that 's the Kitchin . Where , a Master-Cooke ! Thou do'st not know the man ! nor canst thou know him ! Till thou hast serv'd some yeares in that deepe schoole , That 's both the Nource , and Mother of the Arts , And hear'st him read , interpret , and demonstrate . A Master-Cooke ! why , he is the man of men , For a Professor ! He designes , he drawes , He paints , he carves , he builds , he fortifies , Makes Citadels of curious fowle , and fish , Some he dry-ditches , some motes round with broths ; Mounts marrow-bones ; cuts fifty-angled custards ; Reares bulwarke pies ; and , for his outer workes , He raiseth ramparts of immortall crust ; And teacheth all the tacticks at one dinner : What rankes , what files , to put his dishes in The whole Art Militarie ! Then he knowes The influence of the starres , upon his meates ; And all their seasons , tempers , qualities , And so , to fit his relishes , and sauces ! He , has Nature in a pot ! 'bove all the Chemists , Or bare-breech'd brethren of the Rosie-Crosse ! He is an Architect , an Inginer , A Souldier , a Physition , a Philosopher , A generall Mathematician ! POET.

It is granted .

COOKE .

And , that you may not doubt him for a Poet ,

POET. This Fury shewes , if there were nothing else . And 't is divine ! COOKE .

Then , Brother Poet ,

POET.

Brother .

COOKE .

I have a suite .

POET.

What is it ?

COOKE .

Your devise .

POET. As you came in upon me , I was then Offering the argument , and this it is . COOKE .

Silence .

POET. The mightie Neptune , mightie in his styles , And large command of waters , and of Isles , Not , as the Lord and Soveraigne of the Seas , But , Chiefe in the art of riding , late did please To send his Albion forth , the most his owne , Upon discovery , to themselves best knowne , Through Celtiberia ; and , to assist his course , Gave him his powerfull MANAGER of Horse , With divine Proteus , Father of disguise , To waite upon them with his counsels wise , In all extreames . His great commands being done , And he desirous to review his Sonne , He doth dispatch a floting I le , from hence , Unto the Hesperian shores , to waft him thence . Where , what the arts were , us'd to make him stay , And how the Syrens woo'd him , by the way , What Monsters he encountred on the coast , How neere our generall Joy was to be lost , Is not our subject now : though all these make The present gladnesse greater , for their sake . But what the triumphs are , the feast , the sport , And proud solemnities of Neptunes Court , Now he is safe , and Fame 's not heard in vaine , But we behold our happie pledge againe . That with him , loyall HIPPIVS is return'd , Who for it , under so much envie , burn'd With his owne brightnesse , till her sterv'd snakes saw What Neptune did impose , to him was law . COOKE .

But , why not this , till now ?

POET. — It was not time , To mixe this Musick with the vulgars chime . Stay , till th' abortive , and extemporall dinne Of balladry , were understood a sinne , Minerva cry'd : that , what tumultuous verse , Or prose could make , or steale , they might rehearse , And every Songster had sung out his fit ; That all the Countrey , and the Citie-wit , Of bells , and bonfires , and good cheere was spent , And Neptunes Guard had drunke all that they meant ; That all the tales and stories now were old Of the Sea-Monster Archy , or growne cold : The Muses then might venter , undeterr'd , For they love , then , to sing , when they are heard . COOKE . I like it well , 't is handsome : and I have Some thing would fit this . How doe you present 'hem ? In a fine Iland , say you ? POET. Yes , a Delus : Such , as when faire Latona fell in travaile , Great Neptune made emergent . COOKE . I conceive you . I would have had your I le brought floting in , now In a brave broth , and of a sprightly greene , Just to the colour of the Sea ; and then , Some twentie Syrens , singing in the kettel , With an Arion , mounted on the backe Of a growne Conger , but in such a posture , As , all the world should take him for a Dolphin : O , 't would ha' made such musick ! Ha' you nothing , But a bare Island ? POET. Yes , we have a tree too , Which we doe call the Tree of Harmonie , And is the same with what we read , the Sunne , Brought forth in the Indian Musicana first , And thus it growes . The goodly bole , being got To certaine cubits height , from every side The boughes decline , which taking roote afresh , Spring up new boles , and those spring new , and newer , Till the whole tree become a Porticus , Or arched Arbour , able to receive A numerous troupe , such as our Albion , And the Companions of his journey are . And this they sit in . COOKE .

Your prime Masquers ?

POET.

Yes .

COOKE . But where 's your Antimasque now , all this while ? I hearken after them . POET.

Faith , we have none .

COOKE .

None ?

POET. None , I assure you , neither doe I thinke them A worthy part of presentation , Being things so heterogene , to all devise , Meere By-workes , and at best Out-landish nothings . COOKE . O , you are all the heaven awrie ! Sir . For blood of Poetry , running in your veines , Make not your selfe so ignorantly simple . Because Sir , you shall see I am a Poet , No lesse then Cooke , and that I find you want A speciall service here , an Antimasque , I 'le fit you with a dish out of the Kitchin , Such , as I thinke , will take the present palates , A metaphoricall dish ! And , doe but marke , How a good wit may jumpe with you . Are you ready , Child ? ( Had there bin Maske , or no Maske , I had made it . ) Child of the boyling house . CHILD .

Here , Father .

COOKE . Bring forth the pot . It is an Olla Podrida , But I have persons , to present the meates . POET.

Persons !

COOKE . Such as doe relish nothing , but di stato , ( But in another fashion , then you dreame of ) Know all things the wrong way , talke of the affaires , The clouds , the cortines , and the mysteries That are a foot , and , from what hands they have'hem ( The master of the Elephant , or the Camels ) What correspondences are held ; the Posts That goe , and come , and know , almost , their minutes , All but their businesse : Therein , they are fishes . But ha' their garlick , as the Proverb sayes , They are our Quest of enquiry , after newes . POET.

Together with their learned Authors ?

CHILD . Yes Sir , And of the Epicoene gender , Hees , and Shee s : Amphibion Archy is the chiefe . COOKE . Good boy ! The Child is learned too . Note but the Kitchin . Have you put him , into the pot , for Garlick ? CHILD . One in his coate , shall stinke as strong as he , Sir , And his friend Giblets with him . COOKE . They are two , That give a part of the seasoning . POET. I coneeive The way of your Gally-mawfrey . COOKE . You will like it , When they come pouring out of the pot together . CHILD .

O , if the pot had beene big enough !

COOKE .

What then , Child ?

CHILD .

I had put in the Elephant , and one Camel , at least , for Biefe .

COOKE .

But , whom ha' you for Partridge ?

CHILD .

A brace of Dwarfes , and delicate plump birds !

COOKE .

And whom for Mutton , and Kid ?

CHILD . A fine lac'd Mutton , Or two ; and either has her frisking Husband : That reades her the Corranto , every weeke . Grave Mr. Ambler , Newes-master of Poules , Supplies your Capon ; and growne Captaine BuZ ( His Emissary ) under-writes for Turky , A gentleman of the Forrest presents Phesant , And a plump Poultrers wife , in Graces street , Playes Hen with egges i' the belly , or a Coney , Choose which you will . COOKE .

But , where 's the Bacon , Thom ?

CHILD . Hogrel the Butcher , and the Sow his wife , Are both there . COOKE . It is well , goe , dish'hem out . Are they well boyld ? CHILD .

Podrida !

POET.

What 's that ? rotten ?

COOKE . O , that they must be . There 's one maine ingredient We have forgot , the Artichoke . CHILD . No Sir . I have a Fruicterer , with a cold red nose , Like a blue fig , performes it . COOKE . The fruit lookes so . Good child , goe poure'hem out ; shew their concoction . They must be rotten boyld , the broth 's the best on 't , And that 's the Dance . The stage here is the Charger . And Brother Poet , though the serious part Be yours , yet , envie not the Cooke his art . POET.

Not I. Nam lusus ipse Triumphus amat .

The Antimasque is danc'd by the persons describ'd , comming out of the pot . POET.

Well , now , expect the Scene it selfe ; it opens !

The Iland is discovered , the Masquers sitting in their severall sieges . The heavens opening , and Apollo , with Mercury , some Muses , & the Goddesse Harmony , make the musique , the while , the Iland moves forward , Proteus sitting below , and APOLLO sings .
Song . APOLLO . Looke forth , the Shepherd of the Seas , And of the Ports , that keep'st the keyes , And to your Neptune tell , His ALBION , Prince of all his Isles , For whom the sea , and land so smiles , Is home returned well . CHORVS . And be it thought no common Cause , That , to it , so much wonder drawes , And all the Heav'ns consent , With HARMONY , to tune their notes , In answer to the publike votes , That , for it , up were sent . It was no envious Stepdames rage ; Or Tyrants malice of the age , That did employ him forth . But such a Wisdome , that would prove , By sending him , their hearts , and love That else might feare his worth .
By this time , the Island hath joyned it selfe with the shore : And Proteus , Portunus , and Saron ; come forth , and goe up singing to the State , while the Masquers take time to Land .
Song . PROTEVS . I ! now the Pompe of Neptunes triumph shines ! And all the glories of his great designes Are read , reflected , in his sonnes returne ! PORTVNVS . How all the eyes , the lookes , the heart here burne at his arrivall ! SARON . These are the true fires . Are made of joyes ! PROTEVS .

Of longing !

PORTVNVS .

Of desires !

SARON .

Of hopes !

PROTEVS .

Of feares !

PORTVNVS .

No intermitted blocks .

SARON .

But pure affections , and from odorous stocks !

CHORVS . 'T is incense all , that flames ! And these materials scarce have names ! PROTEVS . My King lookes higher , as he scorn'd the warres Of windes , and with his trident touch'd the starres . There is no wrinkle in his brow , or frowne ; But , as his cares he would in Nectar drowne , And all the silver-footed Nymphs were drest ; To waite upon him , to the Oceans feast . PORTVNVS . Or , here in rowes upon the bankes were set , And had their severall hayres made into net To catch the youths in , as they come on shore . SARON . How ! Galatea sighing ! O , no more . Banish your feares . PORTVNVS . And Doris dry your teares . Albion is come : PROTEVS . And Haliclyon , too , That kept his side , as he was charg'd to doe , With wonder . SARON .

— And the Syrens have him not .

PORTVNVS . Though they no practise , nor no arts forgot , That might have wonne him , or by charme , or song . PROTEVS . Or laying forth their tresses all along Upon the glassie waves ; PORTVNVS .

Then diving :

PROTEVS . Then , Up with their heads , as they were mad of men . SARON . And there , the highest-going billowes crowne , Untill some lustie Sea-god pull'd them downe . CHORVS .

See! He is here !

PROTEVS . Great Master of the mayne , Receive thy deare , and precious pawne againe . CHORVS . SARON , PORTVNVS , PROTEVS , bring him thus , Safe , as thy Subjects wishes gave him us : And of thy glorious Triumph let it be No lesse a part , that thou their loves doest see , Then , that his sacred head 's return'd to thee .
This sung , the Island goes backe , whilst the upper Chorus takes it from them , and the Masquers prepare for their figure . CHORVS . Spring all the Graces of the age , And all the Loves of time ; Bring all the pleasures of the stage , And relishes of rime : Adde all the softnesses of Courts The lookes , the laughters , and the sports . And mingle all their sweets , and salts , That none may say , the Triumph halts . Here , the Masquers daunce their Entry . Which done , the first prospective of a maritime Palace , or the house of Oceanus is discovered , with lowd Musique . And the other above is no more seene . POET. Behold the Palace of Oceanus ! Hayle Reverend structure ! Boast no more to us Thy being able , all the Gods to feasts ; We have seene enough : our Albion was thy guest . Then followes the Maine Daunce . After which the second prospect of the Sea , is showne , to the former Musicke . POET. Now turne and view the wonders of the deepe , Where Proteus herds , and Neptunes Orkes doe keepe , Where all is plough'd , yet still the pasture's greene The wayes are found ; and yet no pathes are seene . There Proteus , Portunus , Saron , goe up to the Ladyes with this Song ,
PROTEVS . Come noble Nymphs , and doe not hide The joyes , for which you so provide : SARON . If not to mingle with the men , What doe you here ? goe home agen . PORTVNVS . Your dressing doe confesse , By what we see , so curious parts Of Pallas , and Arachnes arts , That you could meane no lesse . PROTEVS . Why doe you weare the Silke-wormes toyles ; Or glory in the shell-fish spoyles ? Or strive to shew the graines of ore That you have gather'd on the shore , Whereof to make a stocke To graft the greener Emerald on Or any better-water'd stone ? SARON .

Or Ruby of the rocke ?

PROTEVS . Why doe you smell of Amber gris , Of which was formed Neptunes Neice , The Queene of Love ; unlesse you can Like Sea-borne Venus love a man ? SARON .

Try , put your selves unto 't .

CHORVS . Your lookes , your smiles , and thoughts that meet , Ambrosian hands , and silver feet , doe promise you will do 't .
The Revells follow . Which ended , the Fleete is discovered , while the three Cornets play . POET. 'T is time , your eyes should be refresh'd at length With something new , a part of Neptunes strength See , yond' , his fleete , ready to goe , or come , Or fetch the riches of the Ocean home , So to secure him both in peace , and warres , Till not one ship alone , but all be starres . A shout within followes . After which the Cooke enters . COOKE .

I have another service for you , Brother Poet , a dish of pickled Saylors , fine salt Sea-boyes , shall relish like Anchoves , or Caveare , to draw downe a cup of Nectar , in the skirts of a night .

SAYLORS .

Come away boyes , the Towne is ours , hay for Neptune , and our young Master .

POET. He knowes the Compasse , and the Card , While Castor sits on the maine yard , And Pollux too , to helpe your hayles ; And bright Leucothoe , fils your sayles : Arion sings , the Dolphins swim , And , all the way , to gaze on him . The Antimasque of Saylors . Then The last Song to the whole Musique , five Lutes , three Cornets , and ten voyces .
Song . PROTEVS . Although we wish the Triumph still might last For such a Prince , and his discovery past , Yet now , great Lord of waters , and of Isles , Give Proteus leave to turne unto his wiles : PORTVNVS . And , whilst young Albion doth thy labours ease , Dispatch Portunus to thy Ports , SARON . And Saron to thy Seas : To meet old Nereus , with his fifty girles , From aged Indus laden home with Pearles , And orient gummes , to burne unto thy name . CHORVS . And may thy Subjects hearts be all on flame : Whilst thou dost keepe the earth in firme estate , And 'mongst the winds dost suffer no debate . But both at Sea , and Land , our powers increase With health , and all the golden gifts of peace .
The last Daunce . The End .
PANS ANNIVERSARIE ; OR , THE SHEPHERDS HOLY-DAY . THE SCENE ARCADIA . As it was presented at Court before King JAMES . 1625.

The Inventors , Inigo Iones . Ben. Iohnson .

The first presentation is of three Nymphs strewing severall sorts of flowers , followed by an old Shepherd with a Censer and perfumes . NYMPH I. THus , thus , begin the yearly rites Are due to PAN on these bright nights ; His Morne now riseth , and invites To sports , to dances , and delights : All Envious , and Prophane away , This is the Shepherds Holy-day . NYMPH II. Strew , strew , the glad and smiling ground With every flower , yet not confound The Prime-rose drop , the Springs owne spouse , Bright Dayes-eyes , and the lips of Cowes , The Garden-star , the Queene of May , The Rose , to crowne the Holy-day . NYMPH III. Drop , drop you Violets , change your hues , Now red , now pale , as Lovers use , And in your death goe out as well , As when you liv'd unto the smell : That from your odour all may say , This is the Shepherds Holy-day . SHEPHERD . Well done my pretty ones , raine Roses still , Untill the last be drapt : Then hence : and-fill Your fragrant prickles for a second shower , Bring Corn-flag , Tulips , and Adonis flower , Faire Oxe-eye , Goldy-locks , and Columbine , Pinkes , Goulands , King-cups , and sweet Sops-in-wine , Blew Harebells , Pagles , Pansies , Calaminth , Flower-gentle , and the faire-hair'd Hyacinth , Bring rich Carnations , Floure-de-luces , Lillies , The chequ'd , and purple-ringed Daffodillies , Bright Crowne-imperiall , Kings-speare , Holy-hocks , Sweet Venus Navill , and soft Lady-smocks , Bring too , some branches forth of Daphnes haire , And gladdest myrtle for these postes to weare With Spikenard weav'd , and Marjoram betweene , And star'd with yellow-golds , and Meadowes Queene , That when the Altar , as it ought is drest , More odour come not from the Phaenix nest ; The breadth thereof Panchaia may envie , The colours China , and the light the skye . LOUD MUSIQUE . The Scene opens , and in it are the Masquers discover'd sitting about the Fountaine of light . The Musicians attyr'd like the Priests of Pan standing in the worke beneath them , when entreth to the old Shepherd . A Fencer flourishing .

Roome for an old Trophie of Time ; a Sonne of the sword , a Servant of Mars , the Minion of the Muses , and a Master of Fence . One that hath showne his quarters , and plaid his prizes at all the games of Greece in his time ; as Fencing , Wrestling , Leaping , Dauncing , what not ? And hath now usher'd hither by the light of my long-sword certaine bold Boyes of Baeotia , who are come to challenge the Arcadians at their owne sports , call them forth on their owne holy-day , and Daunce them down on their owne Greene-swarth .

SHEPHERD .

'T is boldly attempted , and must be a Baeotian enterprise by the face of it , from all the parts of Greece else , especially at this time when the best , and bravest spirits of Arcadia , called together by the excellent Arcas , are yonder sitting about the Fountaine of light , in consultation of what honours they may doe the great Pan by encrease of anniversarie rites fitted to the Musique of his peace .

FENCER .

Peace to thy Pan , and mum to thy Musique , Swaine ; There is a Tinker of Thebes a comming , called Epam , with his kettle will make all Arcadia ring of him ; What are your sports for the purpose ? say , if singing , you shall be sung downe , if dauncing , daunc'd downe . There is no more to be done with you , but know what ; which it is ; and you are in smoke , gone , vapour'd , vanish'd , blowne , and ( as a man would say ) in a word of two sillables , Nothing .

SHEPHERD .

This is short , though not so sweet . Surely the better part of the solemnitie here will be dauncing .

FENCER .

Enough ; They shall be met with instantly in their owne sphere , the sphere of their owne activitie a daunce . But by whom , expect : No Cynaetheian , nor Satyres ; but ( as I said ) Boyes of Baeotia ; thinges of Thebes , ( the Towne is ours , Shepheard ) mad merry Greekes , Lads of life , that have no gall in us , but all ayre and sweetnesse . A Tooth-drawer is our Foreman , that if there be but a bitter tooth in the company , it may bee called out at a twitch ; he doth command any mans teeth out of his head upon the point of his Poynard ; or tickles them forth with his ryding rod : Hee drawes teeth a horse-backe in full speed , yet hee will daunce a foot , he hath given his word : He is yeoman of the mouth to the whole Brotherhood , and is charged to see their gummes bee cleane , and their breath sweet , at a minutes warning . Then comes my learned Theban , the Tinker I told you of , with his kettle Drum ( before and after ) a Master of Musique , and a man of mettall ; He beates the march to the tune of Tickle-foot , Pam , pam , pam , brave Epam with a nondas . That 's the straine .

SHEPHERD .

A high one .

FENCER .

Which is followed by the trace , and tract of an excellent Juggler , that can juggle with every joynt about him , from head to heele . He can doe tricks with his toes , wind silke , and thred Pearle with them , as nimble a fine fellow of his feet , as his hands : For there is a noble Corne-cutter his companion , hath so pared , and finified them — . Indeed , he hath taken it into his care , to reforme the feet of all , and fit all their footing to a forme ; onely ones play-foot in the company , and he is a Bellowes-mender , allow'd who hath the looking to of all their lungs by patent , and by his place is to set that leg afore still , and with his puffes keepes them in breath during pleasure ; A Tinder-box-man to strike new fire into them at every turne , and where he spies any brave sparke that is in danger to goe out , plie him with a match presently .

SHEPHERD .

A most politique provision .

FENCER .

Nay , we have made our provisions beyond example , I hope . For to these there is annexed a Clock-keeper , a grave person , as Time himselfe , who is to see that they all keepe time to a nick , and move every elbow in order , every knee in compasse . He is to wind them up , and draw them downe as he sees cause ; Then is there a subtile shrewd-bearded Sir , that hath beene a Politician , but is now a maker of Mouse-traps , a great Inginer yet ; and he is to catch the Ladyes favours in the Daunce with certaine cringes he is to make ; and to baite their benevolence . Nor can wee doubt of the successe , for we have a Prophet amongst us of that peremptorie pate , a Taylour , or master Fashioner , that hath found it out in a painted cloth , or some old hanging ( for those are his Librarie ) that we must conquer in such a time , and such a halfe time , therefore bids us goe on crosse-leg'd , or however thred the needles of our owne happinesse , goe through-stitch with all , unwind the clew of our cares , he hath taken measure of our mindes , and will fit our fortune to our footing . And to better assure us ; at his owne charge , brings his Philosopher with him , a a great Clerke , who ( they say ) can write , and it is shrewdly suspected but he can read too : And he is to take the whole Daunces from the foot by Brachygraphie , and so make a memoriall , if not a map of the businesse . Come forth lads , and doe your owne turnes .

The Antimasque is Daunced . After which FENCER .

How like you this Shepheard ? was not this geare gotten on a holy-day ?

SHEPHERD .

Faith , your folly may deserve pardon , because it hath delighted : But , beware of presuming , or how you offer comparison with persons so neere Deities . Behold where they are , that are now forgiven you , whom should you provoke againe with the like , they will justly punish that with anger , which they now dismisse with contempt , Away .

And come you prime Arcadians forth , that taught By PAN the rites of true societie , From his loud Musicke , all your manners wraught And made your Common-wealth a harmonie Commending so to all posteritie . Your innocence from that faire Fount of light As still you sit without the injurie Of any rudenesse , Folly can , or spight : Daunce from the top of the Lycaean mountaine Downe to this valley , and with neerer eye Enjoy , what long in that illumin'd Fountaine You did farre of , but yet with wonder spye . HYMNE I. 1. Of PAN we sing , the best of Singers Pan That taught us swaines , how first to tune our layes , And on the pipe more aires then Phoebus can . CHO. Heare O you groves , and hills resound his praise . 2. Of Pan we sing , the best of Leaders , Pan That leads the Nayad's , and the Dryad's forth ; And to their daunces more then Hermes can . CHO. Heare O you groves , and hills , resound his worth . 3. Of Pan we sing , the best of Hunters , Pan That drives the Heart to seeke unused wayes , And in the chace more then Sylvanus can , CHO. Heare , O you groves , and hills resound his praise . 4. Of Pan we sing , the best of Shepherds , Pan , That keepes our stocks , and us , and both leads forth To better pastures then great Pales can : CHO. Heare O you groves , and hills resound his worth . And while his powers , and praises thus we sing The Valleys let rebound , and all the rivers ring . The Masquers descend , and dance their Entrie . HYMNE II. PAN is our All , by him we breath , wee live , Wee move , we are ; 'T is he our lambes doth reare , Our flocks doth blesse , and from the store doth give The warme and finer fleeces that we weare . He keepes away all heates , and colds , Drives all diseases from our folds : Makes every where the spring to dwell , The Ewes to feed , their udders swell ; But if he frowne , the sheepe ( alas ) The Shepheards wither , and the grasse . Strive , strive , to please him then by still increasing thus The rites are due to him , who doth all right for us . The Maine Daunce . HYMNE III. If yet , if yet Pans orgies you will further fit , See where the silver-footed Fayes doe sit , The Nymphes of wood and water ; Each trees , and Fountaines daughter , Goe take them forth , it will be good To see some wave it like a wood , And others wind it like a flood ; In springs , And rings , Till the applause it brings , Wakes Eccho from her seate , The closes to repeate . ( ECH . The closes to repeate ) Eccho the truest Oracle on ground , Though nothing but a sound . ( ECH . Though nothing but a sound . ) Belov'd of Pan , the Vallyes Queene ( ECH . The Valleyes Queene ) And often heard , though never seene , ( ECH . Though never seene . ) REVELLS . FENCER .

Roome , roome there : where are you Shepheard ? I am come againe with my second part of my bold Bloods , the brave Gamesters : who assure you by me , that they perceive no such wonder in all is done here , but that they dare adventure another tryall . They looke for some sheepish devises here in Arcadia , not these , and therefore a hall , a hall they demand .

SHEPHERD .

Nay , then they are past pittie , let them come , and not expect the anger of a Deitie to pursue them , but meet them . They have their punishment with their fact . They shall be sheepe .

FENCER .

O spare me , by the law of Nations , I am but their Ambassadour .

SHEPHERD .

You speake in time Sir .

2. ANTIMASQUE . SHEPHERD .

Now let them returne with their solide heads , and carry their stupiditie into Boeotia , whence they brought it , with an embleme of themselves , and their Countrey . This is too pure an aire for so grosse Braines .

End you the rites , and so be eas'd Of these , and then great Pan is pleas'd . HYMNE IIII. Great Pan the Father of our peace , and pleasure , Who giv'st us all this leasure , Heare what thy hallowd troope of Herdsmen pray For this their Holy-day , And how their vowes to Thee , they in Lycaeum pay . So may our Ewes receive the mounting Rammes , And wee bring thee the earliest of our Lambes : So may the first of all our fells be thine , And both the beestning of our Goates , and Kine As thou our folds dost still secure , And keep'st our fountaines sweet and pure Driv'st hence the Wolfe , the Tode , the Brock , Or other vermine from the flock . That wee preserv'd by Thee , and thou observ'd by us May both live safe in shade of thy lov'd Maenalus . SHEPHERD . Now each returne unto his Charge , And though to day you have liv'd at large , And well your flocks have fed their fill , Yet doe not trust your hirelings still . See , yond' they goe , and timely doe The office you have put them to , But if you often give this leave Your sheepe , and you they will deceave . The End .
THE MASQUE OF OWLES AT KENELWORTH . Presented by the Ghost of Captaine Coxe mounted in his Hoby-horse . 1626. CAP. COXE . ROome , roome , for my Horse will wince , If he come within so many yards of a Prince , And though he have not on his wings , He will doe strange things . He is the Pegasus that uses To waite on Warwick Muses ; And on gaudy-dayes he paces Before the Coventrie Graces ; For to tell you true , and in rime , He was foald in Q. Elizabeths time , When the great Earle of Lester In this Castle did feast her . Now , I am not so stupid To thinke , you thinke me a Cupid ; Or a Mercurie , that sit him : Though these Cocks here would fit him . But a spirit very civill , Neither Poets God , nor Devill , An old Kenelworth Fox , The Ghost of Captaine Cox , For which I am the bolder , To weare a Cock on each shoulder . This Captaine Cox , by St. Mary , Was at Bullen with King Hary ; And ( if some doe not vary ) Had a goodly library , By which he was discerned To be one of the learned To entertaine the Queene here , When last she was seene here . And for the Towne of Coventrie To act to her soveraigntie . But so his lot fell out , That serving then afoot , And being a little man ; When the skirmish began 'Twixt the Saxon , and the Dane , ( For thence the storie was tane ) Hee was not so well seene As he would have beene o' the Queene . Though this sword were twice so long As any mans else in the throng And for his sake , the Play Was call'd for the second day . But he made a vow ( And he performes it now ) That were he alive , or dead , Hereafter , it should never be sed But Cap. Cox would serve on horse For better or for worse , If any Prince came hither . And his horse should have a feather Nay , such a Prince it might be Perhaps he should have three . Now , Sir ( in your approach The rumbling of your Coach Awaking me , ( his Ghost ) I come to play your Host ; And feast your eyes and eares , Neither with Dogs , nor Beares , Though that have beene a fit Of our maine-shire wit , In times heretofore , But now , we have got a little more . These then that we present With a most loyall intent And ( as the Author saith ) No ill meaning to the Catholique faith , Are not so much beasts , as Fowles , But a very Nest of Owles , And naturall , so thrive I , I found them in the Ivy , A thing , that though I blundred at , It may in time be wondred at , If the place but affords Any store of lucky birds , As I make 'em to flush Each Owle out of his bush . Now , these Owles ( some say ) were men , And they may be so agen , If once they endure the light Of your highnesse sight : For Bank-rupts , we have knowne Rise to more then their owne . With a little-little savour Of the Princes favour , But , as you like their tricks , I 'le spring'em , they are but six . Hey , Owle first . This Bird is London bred As you may see by his horn'd head . And had like to have beene tane At his shop in Jvy-lane , Where he sold by the peney Tobacco , as good as any ; But , whether it did provoke His conscience , he sold smoke ; Or some other toy he tooke , Towards his calling to looke : He fled by Moone-shine thence ; And broke for sixteene pence . Hey , Owle second . This too , the more is the pittie Is of the breed , of the same Citie , A true Owle of London That gives out he is undone , Being a Cheese-monger , By trusting two of the younger Captaines , for the hunger Of their halfe-staru'd number ; Whom since they have shipt away : And left him God to pay , With those eares for a badge Of their dealing with his Madge . Hey , Owle third . A pure native Bird This , and though his hue Be not Coventrie-blue , Yet is he undone By the thred he has spunne , For since the wise towne Has let the sports downe Of May-games , and Morris , For which he right sorry is : Where their Maides , and their Makes , At dancings , and Wakes , Had their Napkins , and poses , And the wipers for their noses . And their smocks all-be-wrought With his thred which they bought , It now lies on his hands , And having neither wit , nor lands , Is ready to hang , or choke him , In a skeyne of that , that broke him . Hey , Owle fourth . Was once a Bankrupt of worth ; And having run a shifting race At last by money , and grace , Got him a Serjeants place , And to be one of Chace . A full so rtnight was not spent , But out comes the Parliament , Takes away the use of his Mace , And left him in a worse , then his first case . Hey , Owle the fift . But here was a defeat , Never any so great , Of a Don , a Spanish Reader , Who had thought to have bin the Leader ( Had the Match gon on ) Of our Ladyes one by one , And triumpht our whole Nation , In his Rodomant fashion : But now since the breach , He has not a Scholler to teach . Hey , Owle sixt . The Bird-bringer up is a Knight , But a passionate wight , Who , since the Act against swearing , ( The tale's worth your hearing ) In this short times growth Hath at twelve pence an oath ; For that ( I take it ) is the rate Sworne himselfe out of his estate . The third varied . A Crop-eard Scrivener , this , Who when he heard but the whisper of moneys to come downe , Fright got him out of Towne With all the Bills and Bands Of other mens in his hands , And cry'd , who will drive the trade , Since such a Law they had made : It was not he that broke . Two i' the hundred spoke . Nor car'd he for the curse , He could not heare much worse , He had his eares in his purse . The End .
THE FORTUNATE ISLES , AND THEIR VNION . CELEBRATED IN A MASQVE Design'd for the Court , on the Twelfth night . 1626. Hîc choreae , cantúsque vigent . THE FORTVNATE ISLES . His M tie being set , ENtreth in , running , JOHPHIEL , an aêry spirit , and ( according to the Magi ) the Intelligence of Jupiters sphere : Attired in light silkes of severall colours , with wings of the same , a bright yellow haire , a chaplet of flowers , blew silke stockings , and pumpes , and gloves , with a silver fan in his hand . JOHPHIEL . Like a lightning from the skie , Or an arrow shot by Love , Or a Bird of his let fly ; Bee 't a Sparrow , or a Dove : With that winged hast , come I , Loosed from the Sphere of Iove , To wish good-night To your delight . To him enters a Melancholique Student , in bare and worne cloathes , shrowded under an obscure cloake , and the eaves of an old hat , fetching a deepe sigh , his name , Mr. Mere-Foole . MERE-FOOLE . Oh , oh ! JOHPHIEL . In Saturn's name , the Father of my Lord ! What over-charged piece of Melancholie Is this , breakes in betweene my wishes thus , With bombing sighes ? MERE-FOOLE . No! no Intelligence ! Not yet ! and all my vowes now nine dayes old ! Blindnesse of fate ! Puppies had seene by this time : But I see nothing ! that I should ! or would see ! What meane the Brethren of the Rosie-Crosse So to desert their votarie ! JOHPHIEL . O! 't is one Hath vow'd himselfe unto that aërie order , And now is gaping for the flie they promis'd him . I 'le mixe a little with him for my sport . MERE-FOOLE . Have I both in my lodging , and my dyet , My cloathes , and every other solemne charge Observ'd'hem ! made the naked bords my bed ! A fagot for my pillow ! hungred sore ! JOHPHIEL . And thirsted after 'hem ! MERE-FOOLE . To looke gaunt , and leane ! JOHPHIEL . Which will not be . MERE-FOOLE . ( Who 's that ? ) yes , and outwatcht , Yea , and out-walked any Ghost alive In solitarie circle , worne my bootes , Knees , armes , and elbowes out ! JOHPHIEL . Ran on the score ! MERE-FOOLE . That have I ( who suggests that ? ) and for more Then I will speake of , to abate this flesh , And have not gaind the sight ; JOHPHIEL . Nay scarce the sense . MERE-FOOLE . ( Voice , thou art right ) of any thing but a cold Wind in my stomacke . JOHPHIEL . And a kind of whimsie . MERE-FOOLE . Here in my head , that puts me to the staggers , Whether there be that Brotherhood , or no. JOHPHIEL . Beleeve fraile man , they be : and thou shalt see . MERE-FOOLE . What shall I see ? JOHPHIEL . Mee . MERE-FOOLE . Thee ? Where ? JOHPHIEL . Here. If you Be Mr. Mere-Foole . MERE-FOOLE . Sir , our name is Mery-Foole . But by contraction Mere-foole . JOHPHIEL . Then are you The wight I seeke : and Sr. my name is Jophiel , Intelligence to the Sphere of Jupiter , An aëry jocular spirit , employ'd to you From Father OVTIS . MERE-FOOLE . OVTIS ? who is hee ? JOHPHIEL . Know yee not OVTIS ? Then you know No body : The good old Hermit , that was said to dwell Here in the forrest without trees , that built The Castle in the aire , where all the Brethren Rhodostaurotick live . It flyes with wings , And runnes on wheeles : where Julian de Campis Holds out the brandisht blade . MERE-FOOLE . Is' t possible They thinke on mee ? JOHPHIEL . Rise , be not lost in wonder , But heare me , and be faithfull . All the Brethren Have heard your vowes , salute you , and expect you , By me , this next returne . But the good Father Has bin content to die for you . MERE-FOOLE . For mee ? JOHPHIEL . For you . Last New-yeares day , which some give out , Because it was his Birth-day , and began The yeare of Jubile , he would rest upon it , Being his hundred five and twentieth yeare : But the truth is , having observ'd your Genesis , He would not live , because he might leave all He had to you . MERE-FOOLE . What had he ? JOHPHIEL . Had ? An office , Two , three , or foure . MERE-FOOLE . Where ? JOHPHIEL . In the upper Region : And that you 'll find . The Farme of the great Customes , Through all the Ports of the Aires Intelligences ; Then Constable of the Castle Rosie-Crosse : Which you must be , and Keeper of the Keyes Of the whole Kaball , with the Seales ; you shall be Principall Secretarie to the Starres ; Know all their signatures , and combinations , The divine rods , and consecrated roots . What not ? Would you turne trees up like the wind , To shew your strength ? march ouer heads of armies , Or points of pikes , to shew your lightnesse ? force All doores of arts , with the petarre , of your wit ? Reade at one view all bookes ? speake all the languages Of severall creatures ? master all the learnings Were , are , or shall be ? or , to shew your wealth , Open all treasures , hid by nature , from The rocke of Diamond , to the mine of Sea-coale ? Sir , you shall doe it . MERE-FOOLE . But how ? JOHPHIEL . Why , by his skill , Of which he has left you the inheritance , Here in a pot : this little gally pot Of tincture , high rose tincture . There 's your Order , You will ha' your Collar sent you , er 't be long . MERE-FOOLE . I lookt Sir , for a halter , I was desperate . JOHPHIEL . Reach forth your hand . MERE-FOOLE . O Sir , a broken sleeve Keepes the arme back as 't is i' the proverbe . JOHPHIEL . Nay , For that I doe commend you : you must be poore With all your wealth , and learning . When you ha' made Your glasses , gardens in the depth of Winter , Where you will walke invisible to Man-kind , Talkt with all birds and beasts in their owne language , When you have penetrated hills like ayre , Div'd to the bottome of the Sea , like leade . And riss ' againe like corke , walk't in the fire An 't were a Salamander , pass'd through all The winding orbes , like an Intelligence , Up to the Empyreum , when you have made The World your gallery , can dispatch a businesse In some three minutes , with the Antipodes , And in five more , negotiate the Globe over ; You must be poore still . MERE-FOOLE . By my place , I know it . JOHPHIEL . Where would you wish to be now ? or what to see ? Without the fortunate purse to beare your charges , Or wishing hat ? I will but touch your temples , The corners of your eyes , and tinct the tip , The very tip o' your nose , with this Collyrium And you shall see i' the ayre all the Idea's , Spirits , and Atomes , Flies , that buz about This way , and that way , and are rather admirable , Then any way intelligible . MERE-FOOLE . O , come , tinct me , Tinct me : I long , save this great belly , I long . But shall I onely see ? JOHPHIEL . See , and command As they were all your varlets , or your foot-boyes : But first you must declare , ( your greatnesse must , For that is now your stile ) what you would see . Or whom . MERE-FOOLE . Is that my stile ? My Greatnesse , then , Would see King Zoroastres . JOHPHIEL . Why you shall : Or any one beside . Thinke whom you please ? Your thousand , Your ten thousand , to a million : All 's one to me , if you could name a myriad . MERE-FOOLE . I have nam'd him . JOHPHIEL . You 'ave reason . MERE-FOOLE . I , I have reason . Because he 's said to be the Father of conjurers , And a cunning man i' the starres . JOHPHIEL . I , that 's it troubles us . A little for the present : For , at this time He is confuting a French Almanack , But he will straight have done , Ha' you but patience ; Or thinke but any other in meane time , Any hard name . MERE-FOOLE . Then , Hermes Trismegistus . JOHPHIEL . O , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ? Why , you shall see him , A fine hard name . Or him , or whom you will , As I said to you afore . Or what doe you thinke Of Howle-glasse , in stead of him . MERE-FOOLE . No , him I have a mind to . JOHPHIEL . O' , but Vlen-spiegle . Were such a name ! but you shall have your longing . What lucke is this , he should be busie too ? He is waighing water , but to fill three houre-glasses , And marke the day in pen ' orths like a cheese , And he has done . 'T is strange you should name him Of all the rest ! there being Jamblicus , Or Porphyrie , or Proclus , any name That is not busie . MERE-FOOLE . Let me see Pythagoras . JOHPHIEL . Good . MERE-FOOLE . Or Plato . JOHPHIEL . Plato , is framing some Idea's , Are now bespoken , at a groat a dozen , Three grosse at least : And , for Pythagoras , He ' has rashly run himselfe on an imployment , Of keeping Asses from a field of beanes ; And cannot be stav'd off . MERE-FOOLE . Then , Archimedes . JOHPHIEL . Yes , Archimedes ! MERE-FOOLE . I , or Aesope . JOHPHIEL . Nay , Hold your first man , a good man , Archimedes , And worthy to be seene ; but he is now Inventing a rare Mouse-trap with Owles wings And a Catts-foot , to catch the Mise alone : And Aesop , he is filing a Fox tongue , For a new fable he has made of Court ; But you shall see'hem all , stay but your time And aske in season ; Things as'kd out of season A man denies himselfe . At such a time As Christmas , when disguising is o'foot , To aske of the inventions , and the men , The witts , and the ingines that move those Orbes ! Me thinkes , you should enquire now , after Skelton , Or Mr. Skogan . MERE-FOOLE . Skogan ? what was he ? JOHPHIEL . O' a fine Gentleman , and a Master of Arts , Of Henry the fourth's times , that made disguises For the Kings sonnes , and writ in ballad-royall Daintily well . MERE-FOOLE . But , wrote he like a Gentleman ? JOHPHIEL . In rime ! fine tinckling rime ! and flow and verse ! With now and then some sence ! and he was paid for 't , Regarded , and rewarded : which few Poets Are now adaies . MERE-FOOLE . And why ? JOHPHIEL . 'Cause every Dabler In rime is thought the same . But you shall see him . Hold up your nose . MERE-FOOLE . I had rather see a Brachman , Or a Gymnosophist yet . JOHPHIEL . You shall see him , Sir . Is worth them both . And with him Domine Skelton , The worshipfull Poet Laureat to K. Harry , And Tytire tu of those times . Advance quick Skogan , And quicker Skelton , shew your craftie heads , Before this Heire of arts , this Lord of learning , This Master of all knowledge in reversion . Enter SKOGAN , and SKELTON in like habits , as they liv'd . SKOGAN . Seemeth we are call'd of a morall intent , If the words that are spoken , as well now be meant . JOHPHIEL . That Mr. Skogan I dare you ensure . SKOGAN . Then , Sonne , our acquaintance is like to indure . MERE-FOOLE . A pretty game ! like Crambe . Mr. Skogan , Give me thy hand : Thou 'rt very leane , me thinks , Is' t living by thy wits ? SKOGAN . If it had beene that , My worshipfull Sonne , thou hadst ne're bin so fat . JOHPHIEL . He tels you true Sir . Here 's a Gentleman ( My paire of crafty Clerkes ) of that high caract , As hardly hath the age produc't his like . Who not content with the wit of his owne times , Is curious to know yours , and what hath beene , MERE-FOOLE . Or is , or shall be . JOHPHIEL . Note his Latitude ! SKELTON . O , vir amplissimus ! ( Ut scholis dicimus ) Et gentilissimus ! JOHPHIEL . The question - issimus Is , should he aske a sight now , for his life ; I meane , a person , he would have restor'd , To memorie of these times , for a Play-fellow , Whether you would present him , with an Hermes , Or , with an Howle-glas ? SKELTON . An Howleglasse To come , to passe On his Fathers Asse ; There never was , By day , nor night , A finer sight . With feathers upright In his horned cap , And crooked shape , Much like an Ape . With Owle on fist , And Glasse at his wrist . SKOGAN . Except the foure Knaves entertain'd for the guards , Of the Kings , and the Queenes that triumph in the cards . JOHPHIEL I , that were a sight and a halfe , I confesse , To see 'hem come skipping in , all at a messe ! SKELTON . With Elinor Rumming . To make up the mumming , That comely Gill , That dwelt on a hill , But she is not grill : Her face all bowsie , Droopie , and drowsie , Scurvy , and lowsie , Comely crinkled , Wondrously wrinkled , Like a rost pigs eare , Bristled with haire . SCOGAN . Or , what doe you say to Ruffian Fitz-Ale ? JOHPHIEL . An excellent sight , if he be not to stale . But then , we can mix him with moderne Vapors , The Child of Tobacco , his pipes , and his papers . MERE-FOOLE . You talk'd of Elinor Rumming , I had rather See Ellen of Troy . JOHPHIEL . Her you shall see . But credit mee , That Marie Ambree ( Who march'd so free . To the siege of Gaunt , And death could not daunt , As the Ballad doth vaunt ) Were a braver wight , And a better sight . SKELTON . Or Westminster Meg , With her long leg , As long as a Crane ; And feet like a plane : With a paire of heeles , As broad as two wheeles ; To drive downe the dew , As she goes to the stew : And turnes home merry , By Lambeth Ferry . Or you may have come In , Thomas Thumbe , In a pudding fatt With Doctor Ratt . JOHPHIEL . I , that ! that ! that ! Wee 'll have 'em all , To fill the Hall . The Antimasque followes . Consisting of these twelve persons , Owleglasse , the foure Knaves , two Ruffians , Fitz-ale , and Vapore , Elnor Rumming , Mary Ambree , Long-Meg of Westminster , Tom Thumbe , and Doctor Ratt . Which done , MERE-FOOLE . What! are they vanish'd ! where is skipping Skelton ? Or morall Skogan ? I doe like their shew And would have thankt'em , being the first grace The Company of the Rosie-Crosse hath done me . JOHPHIEL . The company o' the Rosie-Crosse ! you wigion , The company of Players . Goe , you are , And will be still your selfe , a Mere-foole , In ; And take your pot of honey here , and hogs greace , See , who has guld you , and make one . Great King , Your pardon , if desire to please have trespass'd . This foole should have beene sent to Antycira , ( The I le of Ellebore ) there to have purg'd , Not hop'd a happie seat within your waters . Heare now the message of the Fates , and Jove , On whom those Fates depend , to you , as Neptune The great Commander of the Seas , and Iles. That point of Revolution being come When all the Fortunate Islands should be joyn'd , MACARIA , one , and thought a Principall , That hitherto hath floted , as uncertaine Where she should fix her blessings , is to night Instructed to adhere to your BRITANNIA : That where the happie spirits live , hereafter Might be no question made , by the most curious , Since the Macarij come to doe you homage , And joyne their cradle to your continent . Here the Scene opens , and the Masquers are discover'd sitting in their severall seiges . The ayre opens above , and APOLLO with Harmony , and the spirits of Musique sing , the while the Iland moves forward , Proteus sitting below , and hearkening .
SONG . Looke forth the Shepheard of the Seas , And of the Ports that keepe the keyes , And to your Neptune tell , MACARIA , Prince of all the Isles , Wherein there nothing growes , but smiles , Doth here put in , to dwell . The windes are sweet , and gently blow , But Zephirus , no breath they know , The Father of the flowers : By him the virgin violets live , And every plant doth odours give , As new , as are the howers . CHORVS . Then , thinke it not a common cause , That to it so much wonder drawes , And all the heavens consent , With Harmony to tune their notes , In answer to the publike votes , That for it up were sent .
By this time , the Iland having joyned it selfe to the shore ; PROTEVS , PORTVNVS , and SARON come forth , and goe up singing to the State , while the Masquers take time to ranke themselves .
Song . PROTEVS . I , now , the heights of Neptunes honours shine , And all the glories of his greater stile Are read , reflected in this happiest I le . PORTVNVS . How both the ayre , the soyle , the seat combine To speake it blessed ! SARON . These are the true groves , Where joyes are borne . PROTEVS . Where longings , PORTVNVS . And where loves ! SARON . That live ! PROTEVS . That last ! PORTVNVS . No intermitted wind Blowes here , but what leaves flowers , or fruit behind . CHORVS . 'T is odour all , that comes ! And every tree doth give his gummes . PROTEVS . There is no sicknesse , nor no old age knowne To man , nor any griefe that hee dares owne . There is no hunger there , nor envy of state . Nor least ambition in the Magistrate . But all are even-hearted , open , free , And what one is , another strives to be . PORTVNVS . Here all the day , they feast , they sport , and spring ; Now dance the Graces Hay ; now Venus Ring : To which the old Musitians play , and sing . SARON . There is ARION , tuning his bold Harpe , from flat to sharpe . PORTVNVS . And light Anacreon , He still is one ! PROTEVS . Stesichorus there , too , That Linus , and old Orpheus doth out-doe To wonder . SARON . And Amphion ! he is there . PORTVNVS . Nor is Apollo dainty to appeare In such a quire , although the trees be thick , PROTEVS . He will looke in , and see the aires be quick , And that the times be true . PORTVNVS . Then , chanting , PROTEVS . Then , Up , with their notes , they raise the Prince of Men. SARON . And sing the present Prophecie that goes Of joyning the bright LILLIE , and the ROSE . CHORVS . See! all the flowers PROTEVS . That spring the banks along , Doe move their heads unto that under-song . CHORVS . SARON , PORTVNVS , PROTEVS , helpe to bring Our Primrose in , the glory of the spring ! And tell the Daffadill , against that day , That we prepare new Gyrlands fresh as May. And enter-weave the Myrtle , and the Bay .
This sung , the Island goes backe , whil'st the upper Chorus takes it from them , and the Masquers prepare for their figure . CHORVS . Spring all the Graces of the age , And all the Loves of time ; Bring all the pleasures of the stage , And relishes of rime : Adde all the softnesses of Courts , The lookes , the laughters , and the sports . And mingle all their sweets , and salts , That none may say , the Triumph halts . The Masquers Dance their Entry or first dance . Which done , the first Prospective , a Maritime Palace , or the house of Oceanus is discovered to loude Musicke . The other above is no more seene . JOHPHIEL . Behold the Palace of Oceanus ! Hayle Reverend structure ! Boast no more to us Thy being able , all the Gods to feast ; We saw enough : when ALBION was thy guest . The Measures . After which , the second Prospective , a Sea is showne , to the former Musicke . JOHPHIEL . Now turne ; and view the wonders of the deepe , Where Proteus Herds , and Neptunes Orkes doe keepe , Where all is plough'd , yet still the pastures greene New wayes are found , and yet no paths are seene . Here Proteus , Portunus , Saron , goe up to the Ladyes with this Song . PROTEVS . Come noble Nymphs , and doe not hide The joyes , for which you so provide : SARON . If not to mingle with the Men , What doe you here ? Goe home agen . PORTVNVS . Your dressings doe confesse , By what we see , so curious parts Of Pallas , and Arachnes arts , That you could meane no lesse . PROTEVS . Why doe you weare the Silk-wormes toyles , Or glory in the shell-fish spoyles ; Or strive to shew the graines of Ore That you have gather'd on the shore , whereof to make a stocke To graft the greener Emerald on , Or any better water'd stone , SARON . Or Rubie of the Rocke ? PROTEVS . Why doe you smell of Amber-gris , Of which was formed Neptunes Neice , The Queene of Love : unlesse you can Like Sea-borne Venus love a Man ? SARON . Try , put your selves unto 't . CHORVS . Your lookes , your smiles , and thoughts that meet , Ambrosian hands , and silver feet , Doe promise you will do 't . The Revells follow . Which ended , the Fleet is discovered , while the three Corners play . JOHPHIEL . 'T is time , your eyes should be refresht at length With something new , a part of NEPTVNES strength , See yond' , his Fleete , ready to goe or come , Or fetch the riches of the Ocean home , So to secure him , both in peace , and warres , Till not one ship alone , but all be starres .
Then the last Song . PROTEVS . Although we wish the glory still might last Of such a night , and for the causes past : Yet now , great Lord of waters , and of Iles , Give Proteus leave to turne unto his wiles . PORTVNVS . And , whilst young ALBION doth thy labours ease ; Dispatch Portunus to the Ports . SARON . And Saron to the Seas : To meet old Nereus , with his fiftie girles , From aged Indus laden home with pearles , And Orient gummes , to burne unto thy name . CHORVS . And may thy subjects hearts be all on flame , Whil'st thou dost keepe the earth in firme estate , And 'mongst the winds , do'st suffer no debate , But both at Sea , and Land , our powers increase , With health , and all the golden gifts of Peace .
After which , their last Dance . The End .
LOVES TRIUMPH THROUGH CALLIPOLIS . Performed in a Masque at Court . 1630. By his Majestie , with the Lords , and Gentlemen assisting . The Inventors . Ben. Johnson . Inigo Jones . Quando magis dignos licuit spectare triumphos ?
To make the Spectators understanders .

WHereas all Representations , especially those of this nature in Court , publique Spectacles , either have beene , or ought to bee the mirrours of mans life , whose ends , for the excellence of their exhibiters ( as being the donatives , of great Princes , to their people ) ought alwayes to carry a mixture of profit , with them , no lesse then delight ; Wee , the Inventors , being commanded from the King , to thinke on something worthy of his Majesties putting in act , with a selected company of his Lords , and Gentlemen , called to the assistance . For the honour of his Court , and the dignitie of that heroique love , and regall respect borne by him to his unmatchable Lady , and Spouse , the Queenes Majestie , after some debate of cogitation with our selves , resolved on this following argument .

First , that a Person , boni ominis , of a good Character , as Euphemus , sent downe from Heaven to Callipolis , which is understood , the Citie of Beauty or Goodnesse , should come in ; and , finding her Majestie there enthron'd , declare unto her , that Love who was wont to be respected as a speciall Deitie in Court , and Tutelar God of the place , had of late receiv'd an advertisement , that in the suburbs , or skirts of Callipolis , were crept in certaine Sectaries , or deprav'd Lovers , who neither knew the name , or nature of love rightly , yet boasted themselves his followers , when they were fitter to be call'd his Furies : their whole life being a continew'd vertigo , or rather a torture on the wheele of Love , then any motion , either of order or measure . When suddenly they leape forth below , a Mistresse leading them , and with antick gesticulation , and action , after the manner of the old Pantomimi , they dance over a distracted Comoedy of Love , expressing their confus'd affections , in the Scenicall persons , and habits of the foure prime European Nations .

A glorious boasting Lover . A whining Ballading Lover . An adventurous Romance Lover . A phantasticke umbrageous Lover . A bribing corrupt Lover . A froward jealous Lover . A sordid illiberall Lover . A proud scornfull Lover . An angry quarrelling Lover . A Melancholique despairing Lover . An envious unquiet Lover . A sensuall brute Lover .
All which , in varied , intricate turnes , and involv'd mazes , exprest , make the Antimasque : and conclude the exit , in a circle . EVPHEMVS descends singing . Joy , joy to mortals , the rejoycing fires Of gladnesse , smile in your dilated hearts ! Whilst Love presents a world of chast desires , Which may produce a harmony of parts ! Love is the right affection of the minde , The noble appetite of what is best : Desire of union with the thing design'd , But in fruition of it cannot rest . The Father plenty is , the Mother want . Porus , and Penia . Plenty the beauty , which it wanteth , drawes ; Want yeelds it selfe : affording what is scant . So , both affections are the union's cause . But , rest not here . For Love hath larger scopes , New joyes , new pleasures , of as fresh a date As are his minutes : and , in him no hopes Are pure , but those he can perpetuate . He goes up to the State . To you that are by excellence a Queene ! The top of beauty ! but , of such an ayre , As , onely by the minds eye , may be seene Your enter-woven lines of good , and fayre ! Vouchsafe to grace Loves triumph here , to night , Through all the streetes of your Callipolis ; Which by the splendor of your rayes made bright The seat , and region of all beauty is . Love , in perfection , longeth to appeare , But prayes of favour , he be not call'd on , Till all the suburbs , and the skirts be cleare Of perturbations , and th' infection gon . Then will he flow forth , like a rich perfume Into your nostrils ! or some sweeter sound Of melting Musique , that shall not consume Within the eare , but run the mazes round . Here the Chorus walke about with their Censers . CHORVS . Meanetime , wee make lustration of the place , And with our solemne fires , and waters prove T' have frighted hence , the weake diseased race Of those were tortur'd on the wheele of love . 1 The glorious , 2 whining , 3 the adventurous foole , 4 Phantastique , 5 bribing , and the 6 jealous asse 1 The sordid , 2 scornefull , 3 and the angry mule 4 The melancholique , 5 dull , and envious masse , CHORVS . With all the rest , that in the sensuall schoole Of lust , for their degree of brute may passe . The prospect of Sena appeares . All which are vapour'd hence . No loves , but slaves to sense : Meere cattell , and not men . Sound , sound , and treble all our joyes agen , Who had the power , and vertue to remove Such monsters from the labyrinth of love . The Triumph is first seene a-farre off , and led in by Amphitrite , the Wife of Oceanus , with foure Sea-gods attending her . NEREUS , PROTEUS , GLAUCUS , PALAEMON .

It consisteth of fifteene Lovers , and as many Cupids , who ranke themselves seven , and seven on a side , with each a Cupid before him , with a lighted torch , and the middle person ( which is his Majestie , ) placed in the center .

1. The provident . 2. The judicious . 3. The secret . 4. The valiant . 5. The witty . 6. The joviall . 7. The secure . 8. The substantiall . 9. The modest . 10. The candid . 11. The courteous . 12. The elegant . 13. The rationall . 14. The magnificent . 15. The Heroicall . AMPHITRITE . Here , stay a while : This ! this The Temple of all Beautie is ! Here , perfect Lovers , you must pay First-fruits ; and on these altars lay ( The Ladyes breast's ) your ample vowes , Such , as Love brings , and Beauty best allowes ! CHO. For Love , without his object , soone is gone : Love must have answering love , to looke upon . AMPHITRITE . To you , best Judge then , of perfection ! EVPHEMVS . The Queene , of what is wonder , in the place ! AMPHITRITE . Pure object , of Heroique Love , alone ! EVPHEMVS . The center of proportion — ! AMPHITRITE . Sweetnesse . EVPHEMVS . Grace ? AMPHITRITE . Daigne to receive all lines of love in one . EVPHEMVS . And by reflecting of them fill this space . CHO. Till it a circle of those glories prove , Fit to be sought in Beauty , found by Love . SEME-CHO . Where Love is mutuall , still All things in order move , SEMI-CHO . The circle of the will Is the true spheare of Love . CHO. Advance , you gentler Cupids , then advance , And shew your just perfections in your daunce . The Cupids dance , their dance . And the Masquers their entry .

Which done , Euclia , or a faire Glory appeares in the heavens , singing an applausive song , or Paan of the whole , which shee takes occasion to ingeminate in the second Chorus , upon the sight of a work of Neptunes , being a hollow rocke , filling part of the Sea-prospect , whereon the Muses sit .

EVCLIAS Hymne . So love , emergent out of Chaos brought The world to light ! And gently moving on the waters , wrought All forme to sight ! Loves appetite Did beautie first excite : And left imprinted in the ayre , Those signatures of good , and faire , CHO. Which since have flow'd , flow'd forth upon the sense To wonder first , and then to excellence , By vertue of divine intelligence ! The ingemination . And Neptune too , Shewes what his waves can doe : To call the Muses all to play , And sing the birth of Venus day , CHO. Which from the Sea flow'd forth upon the sense To wonder first , and next to excellence , By vertue of divine intelligence ! Here follow the Revells .

Which ended , the Scene changeth to a Garden , and the heavens opening , there appeare foure new persons , in forme of a Constellation , sitting , or a new Asterisme , expecting Venus , whom they call upon with this song .

JUPITER , JUNO , GENIUS , HYMEN . JVP. Hast daughter Venus , hast , and come away : JVN. All powers , that governe Mariage , pray That you will lend your light GEN. Unto the constellation of this night , HYM. Hymen . JVN. And Juno . GEN. And the Genius call , JVP. Your father Jupiter , CHO. And all That blesse , or honour holy nuptiall .

VENUS here appeares in a cloud , and passing through the Constellation , descendeth to the earth , when presently the cloud vanisheth , and she is seene sitting in a throne .

VENVS . Here , here I present ame Both in my girdle , and my flame . Wherein are woven all the powers The Graces gave me , or the Houres ( My nources once ) with all the arts Of gayning , and of holding hearts : And these with I descend . But , to your influences , first commend The vow , I goe to take On earth , for perfect love and beauties sake !

Her song ended , and she rising to goe up to the Queene , the Throne disappeares : in place of which , there shooteth up a Palme tree with an imperiall ( rowne on the top , from the roote whereof , Lillies and Roses , twining together , and imbracing the stemme , flourish through the crowne , which she in the song , with the Chorus describes .

Beauty and Love , whose story is mysteriall , In yonder Palme-tree , and the Crowne imperiall , Doe from the Rose , and Lilly so delicious , Promise a shade , shall ever be propitious To both the Kingdomes . But to Brittaines Genius The snaky rod , and serpents of Cyllenius Bring not more peace , then these , who so united be By Love , as with it Earth and Heaven delighted be . And who this King , and Queene would well historifie , Need onely speake their names : Those them will glorifie . MARY , and CHARLES , CHARLES with his MARY , named are And all the rest of Loves , or Princes famed are . After this they dance their going out and end .
The Masquers Names . The King . The Marquesse Hammilton . Earle of Holland . Earle of Newport . Lord Strange . Sir Robert Stanley . Master Goring . Master Dimock . Lord Chamberlaine . Earle of Carnarvan . Vicount Doncaster . Sir William Howard . Sir William Brooke . Master Ralegh . Master Abercromy .
The End .
CHLORIDIA . RITES TO CHLORIS AND HER NYMPHS . Personated in a Masque at Court. By the Queenes Majestie And her Ladyes . At Shrove-tide . 1630. The Inventors . Ben. Johnson . Inigo Jones . Unius tellus ante coloris erat . CHLORIDIA .

THe King , and Queens Majestie , having given their command for the Invention of a new argument , with the whole change of the Scene , wherein her Majestie , with the like number of her Ladyes , purposed a presentation to the King . It was agreed , it should be the celebration of some Rites , done to the Goddesse Chloris , who in a generall counsell of the Gods , was proclaim'd Goddesse of the flowers , according to that of Ovid , in the Fasti .

Arbitrium tu Dea floris habe .

And was to be stellified on Earth , by an absolute decree from Iupiter , who would have the Earth to bee adorn'd with starres , as well as the Heaven .

Upon this hinge , the whole Invention mov'd .

The ornament , which went about the Scene , was composed of Foliage , or leaves heightned with gold , and enter-woven with all sorts of flowers ; and naked children , playing , and climbing among the branches ; and in the midst , a great Garland of flowers , in which was written , CHLORIDIA .

The Curtaine being drawne up , the Scene is discover'd , consisting of pleasant hills , planted with young trees , and all the lower bankes adorned with flowers . And from some hollow parts of those Hills , Fountaines come gliding downe , which , in the farre-off Land-shape , seem'd all to be converted to a River .

Over all , a serene skie , with transparant cloudes , giving a great lustre to the whole worke , which did imitate the pleasant Spring .

When the spectators had enough fed their eyes , with the delights of the Scene , in a part of the ayre , a bright Cloud begins to breake forth ; and in it is sitting a plumpe Boy , in a changeable garment , richly adorn'd , representing the mild Zephyrus . On the other side of the Scene , in a purplish Cloud , appeareth the Spring , a beautifull Maid , her upper garment greene , under it , a white robe wrought with flowers ; A garland on her head .

Here Zephyrus begins his Dialogue , calling her forth , and making narration of the Gods decree at large , which she obeyes , pretending , it is come to Earth already : and there begun to be executed by the Kings favour , who assists with all bounties , that may be either urg'd , as causes , or reasons of the Spring .

The first Song . ZEPHYRVS . Come forth , come forth , the gentle Spring , And carry the glad newes , I bring , To Earth , our common mother : It is decreed , by all the Gods The Heav'n , of Earth shall have no oddes , But one shall love another : Their glories they shall mutuall make , Earth looke on Heaven , for Heavens sake ; Their honour's shall be even : All aemulation cease , and jarres ; Jove will have Earth to have her starres And lights , no lesse then Heaven . SPRING . It is already done , in flowers As fresh , and new as are the houres , By warmth of yonder Sunne . But will be multiply'd on us , If from the breath of ZEPHYRUS Like favour we have wonne . ZEPHYRVS . Give all to him : His is the dew , The heate , the humour , SPRING . — All the true . Beloved of the Spring ! ZEPHYRVS . The Sunne , the Wind , the Verdure ! SPRING . — All , That wisest Nature cause can call Of quick'ning any thing .

At which , Zephyrus passeth away through the ayre , and the Spring descendeth to the Earth : and is receiv'd by the Naiades , or Napeae ; who are the Nymph's , Fountaines , and Servants of the season .

The second Song . FOVNTAINES . Fayre Maide , but are you come to dwell , And tarry with us here ? SPRING . Fresh Fountaines , I am come to tell A tale in yond' soft eare , Whereof the murmure will doe well : If you your parts will beare . FOVNTAINES . Our purlings waite upon the Spring . SPRING . Goe up with me , then : helpe to sing The story to the King . Here the Spring goes up , singing the argument to the King ; and the Fountaines follow with the close . SPRING . Cupid hath ta'ne offence of late At all the Gods , that of the State , And in their Councell , he was so deserted , Not to be call'd into their Guild But slightly pass'd by , as a child . FOVNTAINES . Wherein he thinkes his honour was perverted . SPRING . And though his Mother seeke to season , And rectifie his rage with reason , By shewing he lives yet under her command , Rebellious he , doth disobey , And she hath forc'd his armes away . FOVNTAINES . To make him feele the Justice of her hand . SPRING . Whereat the Boy , in fury fell , With all his speed , is gone to hell , There to excite , and stirre up Jealousie , To make a party 'gainst the Gods , And set Heaven , Earth , and Hell at odds . FOVNTAINES . And rayse a chaos of calamitie .

The Song ended , the Nymphs fall into a Daunce , to their voyces , and instruments , and so returne into the Scene .

THE ANTIMASQVE . First Entrie .

A part of the under-ground opening , out of it enters a Dwarfe-Post from Hell , riding on a Curtall , with cloven feet , and two Lacqueys : These dance , and make the first entry of the Antimasque . Hee alights , and speakes .

POSTILION .

Hold my stirrop , my one Lacqucy ; and looke to my Curtall , the other : walke him well , Sirrah , while I expatiate my selfe here in the report of my office ! oh the Furies ! how I am joyed with the title of it ! Postilion of Hell ! yet no Mercury . But a meere Cacodaemon , sent hither with a packet of newes ! newes ! never was Hell so furnished of the commoditie of newes ! Love hath beene lately there , and so entertained by Pluto , and Proserpine , and all the Grandees of the place , as , it is there perpetuall Holy-day : and a cessation of torment granted , and proclaimed for ever ! Halfe-famish'd Tantalus is fallen to his fruit , with that appetite , as it threaten's to undoe the whole company of Costard-mungers , and ha's a River afore him , running excellent Wine ; Ixion is loos'd from his wheele , and turn'd Dancer , does nothing but cut capreols , fetch friskals , and leades Lavaltoes , with the Lamiae ! Sisyphus ha's left rowling the stone , and is growne a Mr. bowler ; challenges all the prime gamesters , Parsons in hell , and gives them odds : upon Tityus his brest , that ( for sixe of the nine acres ) is counted the subtlest bowling-ground in all Tartary . All the Furies are at a game call'd nine-pins , or keilles , made of old Usurers bones , and their soules looking on with delight , and betting on the game . Never was there such freedome of sport . Danaus Daughters have broke their bottomlesse tubs , and made bonfires of them . All is turn'd triumph there . Had Hell gates beene kept with halfe that strictnesse , as the entry here ha's beene to night , Pluto would have had but a cold Court , and Proserpine a thin presence , though both have a vast territorie . Wee had such a stirre to get in , I , and my Curtall , and my two Lacqueys all ventur'd through the eye of a Spanish needle , wee had never come in else , and that was by the favour of one of the guard who was a womans-taylor , and held ope the passage . Cupid by commission hath carried Jealousie from Hell , Disdaine , Feare , and Dissimulation , with other Goblins , to trouble the Gods . And I am sent after post , to raise Tempest , Windes , Lightnings , Thunder , Rayne , and Snow , for some new exploit they have against the Earth , and the Goddesse Chloris , Queene of the flowers , and Mistris of the Spring . For joy of which I will returne to my selfe , mount my Bidet , in a dance ; and corvet upon my Curtall .

The speech ended , the Postillion mounts his Curtall , and with his Lacqueys , danceth forth as he came in . 2. Entry . Cupid , Jealousie , Disdaine , Feare , and Dissimulation , dance together . 3. Entry . The Queenes Dwarfe , richly apparell'd , as a Prince of Hell , attended by six infernall Spirits ; He first danceth alone , and then the Spirits : all expressing their joy , for Cupids comming among them . 4. Entry . Here the Scene changeth , into a horrid storme ; Out of which enters the Nymph Tempest , with foure Windes , they dance . 5. Entry . Lightnings , three in number , their habits glistering , expressing that effect , in their motion . 6. Entry . Thunder alone dancing the tunes to a noyse , mixed , and imitating thunder . 7. Entry . Rayne , presented by five persons all swolne , and clouded over , their hayre flagging , as if they were wet , and in their hands , balls full of sweet water , which , as they dance , sprinkle all the roome . 8. And last entry . Seven with rugged white heads , and beards , to expresse Snow , with flakes on their garments , mix'd with hayle . These having danced , returne into the stormy Scene , whence they came .

Here , by the providence of Juno , the tempest on an instant ceaseth : And the Scene is changed into a delicious place , figuring the bowre of Chloris . Where , in an arbour fayn'd of Gold-smiths worke , the ornament of which was borne up with Termes of Satyres , beautifi'd with Pestones , Garlands , and all sorts of fragrant flowers . Beyond all this , in the skie a-farre off appear'd a Rainebow , in the most eminent place of the Bowre , sate the Goddesse Chloris , accompanied with fourteene Nymphs , their apparell white , embroydered with silver , trim'd at the shoulders with great leaves of greene , embroydered with gold , falling one under the other . And of the same worke were their bases , their head-'tyres of flowers , mix'd with silver , and gold , with some sprigs of Aegrets among , and from the top of their dressing , a thin vayle hanging downe .

All which beheld , The Nymphs , Rivers , and Fountaines with the Spring , sung this rejoycing Song .
Song 3. RIVERS , SPRING , FOVNTAINES . Run out , all the Flouds , in joy with your silver feet ; And hast to meet , the enamour'd Spring ; For whom the warbling Fountaines sing : The story of the flowers ; preserved by the Howres ; At Juno's soft command , and Iris showers ; Sent to quench jealousie , and all those powers Of Loves rebellious warre : Whil'st Chloris sits a shining starre To crowne , and grace our jolly song , made long , To the notes , that we bring , to glad the Spring .

Which ended , the Goddesse , and her Nymphs , descend the degrees , into the roome , and dance the entry of the grand-masque .

After this , another Song by the same persons , as before .
Song 4. RIVERS , FOVNTAINES . Tell a truth , gay Spring , let us know What feet they were , that so Impres't the Earth , and made such various flowers to grow ! SPRING . She that led , a Queene was at lest , Or a Goddesse , 'bove the rest : And all their graces , in her selfe expres't ! RIVERS , FOVNTAINES . O , 't were a fame , to know her name ! Whether shee were the root ; Or they did take th' impression from her foot .
The Masquers here dance their second dance . Which done ,

The farther Prospect of the Scene changeth into ayre , with a low Land-shape , in part covered with clouds : And in that instant , the Heaven opening , Juno , and Iris are seene , and above them many aëry spirits , sitting in the cloudes .

Song 5. JVNO . Now Juno , and the Ayre shall know The truth of what is done below , From our discoloured bow . Iris , what newes ? IRIS . The ayre is cleare , your bow can tell , Chloris renown'd , Spight fled to Hell ; The businesse all is well . And Cupid sues JVNO . For pardon . Do's hee ? IRIS . Hee sheds teares More then your Birds have eyes . JVNO . The Gods have eares . Offences , made against the Deities , Are soone forgot - IRIS . If who offends , be wise .

Here , out of the Earth , ariseth a Hill , and on the top of it , a globe , on which Fame is seene standing with her Trumpet , in her hand ; and on the Hill , are seated four Persons , presenting Poesie , History , Architecture , and Sculpture : who together with the Nymphs , Floods , and Fountaines , make a full Quire , at which , Fame begins to mount , and moving her wings , flyeth , singing up to Heaven .

FAME . Rise golden Fame , and give thy name a birth CHORVS . From great and generous actions , done on Earth . FAME . The life of Fame is action . CHORVS . Understood That action must be vertuous , great , and good ! FAME . Vertue it selfe by Fame is oft protected , And dies despised — CHORVS . Where the Fame 's neglected . FAME . Who hath not heard of Chloris , and her Bowre Fayre Iris act , employ'd by Juno's power To guard the Spring , and prosper every flower , Whom Jealousie and Hell thought to devoure ? CHORVS . Great actions , oft obscur'd by time , may lye , Or envy — FAME . But they last to memory . POESY . We that sustaine thee , Learned Poesie , HISTORY . And I , her sister , severe History . ARCHITECTVRE . With Architecture , who will rayse thee high , SCVLPTVRE . And Sculpture , that can keepe thee from to dye . CHORVS . All helpe lift thee to eternity . JVNO . And Juno , through the ayre , doth make thy way , IRIS . By her serenest Messenger of Day . FAME . Thus Fame , ascend's , by all degrees , to Heaven : And leaves a light , here , brighter then the seven . CHORVS Let all applaud the sight . Ayre first , that gave the bright Reflections , Day or night ! With these supports of Fame , That keepe alive her name ! The beauties of the Spring . Fount's , Rivers , every thing : From the height of all , To the Waters fall - Resound , and sing The honour's of his Chloris , to the King . Chloris , the Queene of Flowers ; The sweetnesse of all Showres ; The ornament of Bowres ; The top of Par-amours ! Fame , being hidden in the clouds , the hill sinkes : and the Heaven closeth . The Masquers dance with the Lords . The End .
The Names of the Masquers as they sate in the Bowre . The Queene . Countesse of Carlile . Countesse of Berkeshire . Countesse of Newport . La. Howard . M. EliZ. Savage . Countesse of Oxford . Lady Anne Cavendish . Lady Penelope Egerton . M. Anne Weston . Lady Strange . Countesse of Carnarvan . M. Porter . M. Dor. Savage . M. Sophia Cary.

UNDER-WOODS . CONSISTING OF DIVERS POEMS .

By BEN. IOHNSON .

Martial —

Cineri , gloria sera venit .

LONDON . Printed M.DC.XL .

To the Reader .

WIth the same , leave the Ancients , call'd that kind of body Sylva , or 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , in which there were workes of divers nature , and matter congested ; as the multitude call Timber-trees , promiscuously growing , a Wood , or Forrest : so am I bold to entitle these lesser Poems , of later growth , by this of Vnder-wood , out of the Analogie they hold to the Forrest , in my former booke , and no otherwise .

BEN. IOHNSON .
VNDER-WOODS . POEMS OF DEVOTION .
The Sinners Sacrifice . To the Holy Trinitie . 1. O Holy , blessed , glorious Trinitie Of persons , still one God , in Unitie . The faithfull mans beleeved Mysterie , Helpe , helpe to lift 2. My selfe up to thee , harrow'd , torne , and bruis'd By sinne , and Sathan ; and my flesh misus'd , As my heart lies in peeces , all confus'd , O take my gift . 3. All-gracious God , the Sinners sacrifice . A broken heart thou wert not wont despise , But 'bove the fat of rammes , or bulls , to prize An offring meet , 4. For thy acceptance . O , behold me right , And take compassion on my grievous plight . What odour can be , then a heart contrite , To thee more sweet ? 5. Eternall Father , God , who did'st create This All of nothing , gavest it forme , and fate , And breath'st into it , life , and light , with state To worship thee . 6. Eternall God the Sonne , who not denyd'st To take our nature ; becam'st man , and dyd'st , To pay our debts , upon thy Crosse , and cryd'st All 's done in me . 7. Eternall Spirit , God from both proceeding , Father and Sonne ; the Comforter , in breeding Pure thoughts in man : with fiery zeale them feeding For acts of grace . 8. Increase those acts , ô glorious Trinitie Of persons , still one God in Unitie ; Till I attaine the long'd-for mysterie of seeing your face . 9. Beholding one in three , and three in one , A Trinitie , to shine in Unitie ; The gladdest light , darke man can thinke upon ; O grant it me ! 10. Father , and Sonne , and Holy Ghost , you three All coeternall in your Majestie , Distinct in persons , yet in Unitie One God to see . 11. My Maker , Saviour , and my Sanctifier . To heare , to meditate , sweeten my desire , With grace , with love , with cherishing intire , O , then how blest ; 12. Among thy Saints elected to abide , And with thy Angels , placed side , by side , But in thy presence , truly glorified Shall I there rest ?
A Hymne to God the Father . HEare mee , O God! A broken heart , Is my best part : Use still thy rod , That I may prove Therein , thy Love . If thou hadst not Beene sterne to mee , But left me free , I had forgot My selfe and thee . For , sin 's so sweet . As minds ill bent Rarely repent , Untill they meet Their punishment . Who more can crave Then thou hast done : That gav'st a Sonne , To free a slave ? First made of nought ; Withall since bought . Sinne , Death , and Hell , His glorious Name Quite overcame , Yet I rebell , And slight the same . But , I 'le come in , Before my losse , Me farther tosse , As sure to win Under his Crosse .
A Hymne On the Nativitie of my Saviour . I Sing the birth , was borne to night , The Author both of Life , and light ; The Angels so did sound it , And like the ravish'd Sheep'erds said , Who saw the light , and were afraid , Yet search'd , and true they found it . The Sonne of God , th' Eternall King , That did us all salvation bring , And freed the soule from danger ; Hee whom the whole world could not take , The Word , which heaven , and earth did make ; Was now laid in a Manger . The Fathers wisedome will'd it so , The Sonnes obedience knew no No , Both wills were in one stature ; And as that wisedome had decreed , The Word was now made Flesh indeed , And tooke on him our Nature . What comfort by him doe wee winne ? Who made himselfe the price of sinne , To make us heires of glory ? To see this Babe , all innocence ; A Martyr borne in our defence ; Can man forget this Storie ?
A Celebration of CHARIS in ten Lyrick Peeces . 1. His Excuse for loving . LEt it not your wonder move , Lesse your laughter ; that I love . Though I now write fiftie yeares , I have had , and have my Peeres ; Poëts , though devine are men : Some have lov'd as old agen . And it is not alwayes face , Clothes , or Fortune gives the grace ; Or the feature , or the youth : But the Language , and the Truth , With 〈◊〉 Ardor , and the Passion , Gives t●●●over weight , and fashion . If you t●●● will read the Storie , First , prepare you to be sorie , That you never knew till now , Either whom to love , or how : But be glad , as soone with me , When you know , that this is she , Of whose Beautie it was sung , She shall make the old man young . Keepe the middle age at stay , And let nothing high decay . Till she be the reason why , All the world for love may die . 2. How he saw her . I Beheld her , on a Day , When her looke out-flourisht May : And her dressing did out-brave All the Pride the fields than have : Farre I was from being stupid , For I ran and call'd on Cupid ; Love if thou wilt ever see Marke of glorie , come with me ; Where 's thy Quiver ? bend thy Bow : Here 's a shaft , thou art to slow ! And ( withall ) I did untie Every Cloud about his eye ; But , he had not gain'd his sight Sooner , then he lost his might , Or his courage ; for away Strait hee ran , and durst not stay , Letting Bow and Arrow fall , Nor for any threat , or Call , Could be brought once back to looke , I foole-hardie , there up tooke Both the Arrow he had quit , And the Bow : which thought to hit This my object . But she threw Such a Lightning ( as I drew ) At my face , that tooke my sight , And my motion from me quite ; So that there , I stood a stone , Mock'd of all : and call'd of one ( Which with griefe and wrath I heard ) Cupids Statue with a Beard , Or else one that plaid his Ape , In a Hercules-his shape , 3. What hee suffered . AFter many scornes like these , Which the prouder Beauties please , She content was to restore Eyes and limbes ; to hurt me more And would on Conditions , be Reconcil'd to Love , and me First , that I must kneeling yeeld Both the Bow , and shaft I held Unto her ; which love might take At her hand , with oath , to make Mee , the scope of his next draught Aymed , with that selfe-same shaft He no sooner heard the Law , But the Arrow home did draw And ( to gaine her by his Art ) Left it sticking in my heart : Which when she beheld to bleed , She repented of the deed , And would faine have chang'd the fate , But the Pittie comes too late . Looser-like , now , all my wreake Is , that I have leave to speake , And in either Prose , or Song , To revenge me with my Tongue , Which how Dexterously I doe Heare and make Example too . 4. Her Triumph . SEE the Chariot at hand here of Love Wherein my Lady rideth ! Each that drawes , is a Swan , or a Dove And well the Carre Love guideth As she goes , all hearts doe duty Unto her beauty ; And enamour'd , doe wish , so they might But enjoy such a sight , That they still were , to run by her side , Through Swords , through Seas , whether she would ride . Doe but looke on her eyes , they doe light All that Loves world compriseth ! Doe but looke on her Haire , it is bright As Loves starre when it riseth ! Doe but marke her forhead's smoother Then words that sooth her ! And from her arched browes , such a grace Sheds it selfe through the face , As alone there triumphs to the life . All the Gaine , all the Good , of the Elements strife . Have you seene but a bright Lillie grow , Before rude hands have touch'd it ? Ha' you mark'd but the fall o' the Snow Before the soyle hath smutch'd it ? Ha' you felt the wooll of Bever ? Or Swans Downe ever ? Or have smelt o' the bud o' the Brier ? Or the Nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the Bee ? O so white ! O so soft ! O so sweet is she ! 5. His discourse with Cupid . NOblest Charis , you that are Both my fortune , and my Starre ! And doe governe more my blood , Then the various Moone the flood ! Heare , what late Discourse of you , Love , and I have had ; and true . 'Mongst my Muses finding me , Where he chanc't your name to see Set , and to this softer straine ; Sure , said he , if I have Braine , This here sung , can be no other By description , but my Mother ! So hath Homer prais'd her haire ; So , Anacreon drawne the Ayre Of her face , and made to rise Just about her sparkling eyes , Both her Browes , bent like my Bow . By her lookes I doe her know , Which you call my Shafts . And see ! Such my Mothers blushes be , As the Bath your verse discloses In her cheekes , of Milke , and Roses ; Such as oft I wanton in ? And , above her even chin , Have you plac'd the banke of kisses , Where you say , men gather blisses , Rip'ned with a breath more sweet , Then when flowers , and West-winds meet . Nay , her white and polish'd neck , With the Lace that doth it deck , Is my Mothers ! Hearts of slaine Lovers , made into a Chaine ! And betweene each rising breast , Lyes the Valley , cal'd my nest , Where I sit and proyne my wings After flight ; and put new stings To my shafts ! Her very Name , With my Mothers is the same . I confesse all , I replide , And the Glasse hangs by her side , And the Girdle 'bout her waste , All is Venus : save unchaste . But alas , thou seest the least Of her good , who is the best Of her Sex ; But could'st thou Love , Call to mind the formes , that strove For the Apple , and those three Make in one , the same were shee . For this Beauty yet doth hide , Something more then thou hast spi'd Outward Grace weake love beguiles : Shee is Venus , when she smiles , But shee 's Juno , when she walkes , And Minerva , when she talkes . 6. Clayming a second kisse by Desert . CHaris guesse , and doe not misse , Since I drew a Morning kisse From your lips , and suck'd an ayre Thence , as sweet , as you are faire . What my Muse and I have done : Whether we have lost , or wonne , If by us , the oddes were laid , That the Bride ( allow'd a Maid ) Look'd not halfe so fresh , and faire , With th' advantage of her haire , And her Jewels , to the view Of th' Assembly , as did you ! Or , that did you sit , or walke , You were more the eye , and talke Of the Court , to day , then all Else that glister'd in White-hall ; So , as those that had your sight , Wisht the Bride were chang'd to night , And did thinke , such Rites were due To no other Grace but you ! Or , if you did move to night In the Daunces , with what spight Of your Peeres , you were beheld , That at every motion sweld So to see a Lady tread , As might all the Graces lead , And was worthy ( being so seene ) To be envi'd of the Queene . Or if you would yet have stay'd , Whether any would up-braid To himselfe his losse of Time ; Or have charg'd his sight of Crime , To have left all sight for you : Guesse of these , which is the true ; And , if such a verse as this , May not claime another kisse . 7. Begging another , on colour of mending the former . FOr Loves-sake , kisse me once againe , I long , and should not beg in vaine , Here 's none to spie , or see ; Why doe you doubt , or stay ? I 'le taste as lightly as the Bee , That doth but touch his flower , and flies away . Once more , and ( faith ) I will be gone Can he that loves , aske lesse then one ? Nay , you may erre in this , And all your bountie wrong : This could be call'd but halfe a kisse . What w' are but once to doe , we should doe long , I will but mend the last , and tell Where , how it would have relish'd well ; Joyne lip to lip , and try : Each suck others breath . And whilst our tongues perplexed lie , Let who will thinke us dead , or wish out death . 8. Urging her of a promise . CHaris one day in discourse Had of Love , and of his force , Lightly promis'd , she would tell What a man she could love well : And that promise set on fire All that heard her , with desire . With the rest , I long expected , When the worke would be effected : But we find that cold delay , And excuse spun every day , As , untill she tell her one , We all feare , she loveth none . Therefore , Charis , you must do 't , For I will so urge you to 't You shall neither eat , nor sleepe , No , nor forth your window peepe , With your emissarie eye , To fetch in the Formes goe by : And pronounce , which band or lace , Better fits him , then his face ; Nay I will not let you sit 'Fore your Idoll Glasse a whit , To say over every purle There ; or to reforme a curle ; Or with Secretarie Sis To consult , if Fucus this Be as good , as was the last : All your sweet of life is past , Make accompt unlesse you can , ( And that quickly ) speake your Man . 9. Her man described by her owne Dictamen . OF your Trouble , Ben , to ease me , I will tell what Man would please me . I would have him if I could , Noble ; or of greater Blood : Titles , I confesse , doe take me . And a woman , Gop did make me . French to boote , at least in fashion , And his Manners of that Nation . Young I l'd have him to , and faire , Yet a man ; with crisped haire Cast in thousand snares , and rings For Loves fingers , and his wings : Chestnut colour , or more slack Gold , upon a ground of black . Venus , and Minerva's eyes For he must looke wanton-wise . Eye-brows bent like Cupids bow , Front , an ample field of snow ; Even nose , and cheeke ( withall ) Smooth as is the Billiard Ball : Chin , as woolly as the Peach ; And his lip should kissing teach , Till he cherish'd too much beard , And make Love or me afeard . He would have a hand as soft As the Downe , and shew it oft ; Skin as smooth as any rush , And so thin to see a blush Rising through it e're it came ; All his blood should be a flame Quickly fir'd as in beginners In loves schoole , and yet no sinners . 'T were to long to speake of all , What we harmonie doe call In a body should be there . Well he should his clothes to weare ; Yet no Taylor help to make him Drest , you still for man should take him ; And not thinke h' had eat a stake , Or were set up in a Brake . Valiant he should be as fire , Shewing danger more then ire . Bounteous as the clouds to earth ; And as honest as his Birth . All his actions to be such , As to doe nothing too much . Nor o're-praise , nor yet condemne ; Nor out-valew , nor contemne ; Nor doe wrongs , nor wrongs receave ; Nor tie knots , nor knots unweave ; And from basenesse to be free , As he durst love Truth and me . Such a man , with every part , I could give my very heart ; But of one , if short he came , I can rest me where I am . 10. Another Ladyes exception present at the hearing . FOr his Mind , I doe not care , That 's a Toy , that I could spare : Let his Title be but great , His Clothes rich , and band sit neat , Himselfe young , and face be good , All I wish is understood What you please , you parts may call , 'T is one good part I 'ld lie withall .
The Musicall strife ; In a Pastorall Dialogue . SHEE . COme with our Voyces , let us warre , And challenge all the Spheares , Till each of us be made a Starre , And all the world turne Eares . HEE . At such a Call , what beast or fowle , of reason emptie is ! What Tree or stone doth want a soule ? What man but must lose his ? SHEE . Mixe then your Notes , that we may prove To stay the running floods ? To make the Mountaine Quarries move ? And call the walking woods ? HEE . What need of mee ? doe you but sing Sleepe , and the Grave will wake , No tunes are sweet , nor words have sting , But what those lips doe make . SHEE . They say the Angells marke each Deed , And exercise below , And out of inward pleasure feed On what they viewing know . HEE . O sing not you then , lest the best Of Angels should be driven To fall againe ; at such a feast , Mistaking earth for heaven . SHEE . Nay , rather both our soules bee strayn'd To meet their high desire ; So they in state of Grace retain'd , May wish us of their Quire .
A SONG . OH doe not wanton with those eyes , Lest I be sick with seeing ; Nor cast them downe , but let them rise , Lest shame destroy their being : O , be not angry with those fires , For then their threats will kill me ; Nor looke too kind on my desires , For then my hopes will spill me ; O , doe not steepe them in thy Tares , For so will sorrow slay me ; Nor spread them as distract with feares , Mine owne enough betray me .
In the person of Woman kind . A Song Apologetique . MEn if you love us , play no more The fooles , or Tyrants with your friends , To make us still sing o're , and o're , Our owne false praises , for your ends : Wee have both wits , and fancies too , And if wee must , let 's sing of you . Nor doe we doubt , but that we can , If wee would search with care , and paine , Find some one good , in some one man ; So going thorow all your straine : Wee shall at last , of parcells make One good enough for a songs sake . And as a cunning Painter takes In any curious peece you see More pleasure while the thing he makes Then when 't is made , why so will wee . And having pleas'd our art , wee 'll try To make a new , and hang that by .
Another . In defence of their Inconstancie . A Song . HAng up those dull , and envious fooles That talke abroad of Womans change , We were not bred to sit on stooles , Our proper vertue is to range : Take that away , you take our lives , We are no women then , but wives . Such as in valour would excell Doe change , though man , and often fight Which we in love must doe aswell , If ever we will love aright . The frequent varying of the deed , Is that which doth perfection breed . Nor is 't inconstancie to change For what is better , or to make ( By searching ) what before was strange , Familiar , for the uses sake ; The good , from bad , is not descride , But as 't is often vext and tri'd . And this profession of a store In love , doth not alone help forth Our pleasure ; but preserves us more From being forsaken , then doth worth , For were the worthiest woman curst To love one man , hee 'd leave her first .
A Nymphs Passion . I Love , and he loves me againe , Yet dare I not tell who ; For if the Nymphs should know my Swaine , I feare they 'd love him too ; Yet if it be not knowne , The pleasure is as good as none , For that 's a narrow joy is but our owne . I 'le tell , that if they be not glad , They yet may envie me : But then if I grow jealous madde , And of them pittied be , It were a plague 'bove scorne And yet it cannot be forborne . Unlesse my heart would as my thought be torne . He is if they can find him , faire , And fresh and fragrant too , As Summers sky , or purged Ayre , And lookes as Lillies doe , That are this morning blowne , Yet , yet I doubt he is not knowne , And feare much more , that more of him be showne . But he hath eyes so round , and bright , As make away my doubt , Where Love may all his Torches light Though hate had put them out ; But then t' increase my feares , What Nymph so e're his voyce but heares Will be my Rivall , though she have but eares . I 'le tell no more , and yet I love , And he loves me ; yet no One un-becomming thought doth move From either heart , I know ; But so exempt from blame , As it would be to each a fame : If Love , or feare , would let me tell his name .
The Houre-glasse . DOe but consider this small dust , Here running in the Glasse , By Atomes mov'd ; Could you beleeve , that this , The body was Of one that lov'd ? And in his Mrs. flame , playing like a flye , Turn'd to cinders by her eye ? Yes ; and in death , as life unblest , To have 't exprest , Even ashes of lovers find no rest .
My Picture left in Scotland . I Now thinke , Love is rather deafe , then blind , For else it could not be , That she , Whom I adore so much , should so slight me , And cast my love behind : I 'm sure my language to her , was as sweet , And every close did meet In sentence , of as subtile feet , As hath the youngest Hee , That sits in shadow of Apollo's tree . Oh , but my conscious feares , That flie my thoughts betweene , Tell me that she hath seene My hundreds of gray haires , Told seven and fortie yeares . Read so much wast , as she cannot imbrace My mountaine belly , and my rockie face , And all these through her eyes , have stopt her eares .
Against Iealousie . WRetched and foolish Jealousie , How cam'st thou thus to enter me ? I n're was of thy kind ; Nor have I yet the narrow mind To vent that poore desire , That others should not warme them at my fire , I wish the Sun should shine On all mens Fruit , and flowers , as well as mine . But under the Disguise of love Thou sai'st , thou only cam'st to prove What my Affections were , Think'st thou that love is help'd by feare ? Goe , get thee quickly forth Loves sicknesse , and his noted want of worth Seeke doubting Men to please , I ne're will owe my health to a disease .
The Dreame . OR Scorne , or pittie on me take , I must the true Relation make , I am undone to Night ; Love in a subtile Dreame disguis'd , Hath both my heart and me surpriz'd , Whom never yet he durst attempt t' awake ; Nor will he tell me for whose sake He did me the Delight , Or Spight , But leaves me to inquire , In all my wild desire Of sleepe againe ; who was his Aid , And sleepe so guiltie and afraid , As since he dares not come within my sight .
An Epitaph on Master VINCENT CORBET . I Have my Pietie too , which could It vent it selfe , but as it would , Would say as much , as both have done Before me here , the Friend and Sonne ; For I both lost a friend and Father , Of him whose bones this Grave doth gather : Deare Vincent Corbet who so long Had wrestled with Diseases strong , That though they did possesse each limbe , Yet he broke them , e're they could him , With the just Canon of his life , A life that knew nor noise , nor strife : But was by sweetning so his will , All order , and Disposure , still His Mind as pure , and neatly kept , As were his Nourceries ; and swept So of uncleannesse , or offence , That never came ill odour thence : And adde his Actions unto these , They were as specious as his Trees . 'T is true , he could not reprehend His very Manners , taught t' amend , They were so even , grave , and holy ; No stubbornnesse so stiffe , nor folly To licence ever was so light , As twice to trespasse in his fight , His lookes would so correct it , when It chid the vice , yet not the Men. Much from him I professe I wonne , And more , and more , I should have done , But that I understood him scant , Now I conceive him by my want , And pray who shall my sorrowes read , That they for me their teares will shed ; For truly , since he left to be , I feele , I 'm rather dead than he ? Reader , whose life , and name , did e're become An Epitaph , deserv'd a Tombe : Nor wants it here through penurie , or sloth , Who makes the one , so 't be first makes both .
An Epistle to Sir EDWARD SACVILE , now Earle of Dorset . IF Sackvile , all that have the power to doe Great and good turns , as wel could time them too , And knew their how , and where : we should have , then Lesse list of proud , hard , or ingratefull Men. For benefits are ow'd with the same mind As they are done , and such returnes they find : You then whose will not only , but desire To succour my necessities tooke fire , Not at my prayers , but your sense ; which laid The way to meet , what others would upbraid ; And in the Act did so my blush prevent , As I did feele it done , as soone as meant : You cannot doubt , but I who freely know This Good from you , as freely will it owe ; And though my fortune humble me , to take The smallest courtesies with thankes , I make Yet choyce from whom I take them ; and would shame To have such doe me good , I durst not name : They are the Noblest benefits ; and sinke Deepest in Man , of which when he doth thinke , The memorie delights him more , from whom Then what he hath receiv'd . Gifts stinke from some , They are so long a comming , and so hard Where any Deed is forc't , the Grace is mard . Can I owe thankes , for Curtesies receiv'd Against his will that doe's 'hem ? that hath weav'd Excuses , or Delayes ? or done 'hem scant , That they have more opprest me , then my want ? Or if he did it not to succour me , But by meere Chance ? for interest ? or to free Himselfe of farther trouble , or the weight Of pressure , like one taken in a streight ? All this corrupts the thankes , lesse hath he wonne , That puts it in his Debt-booke e're 't be done ; Or that doth sound a Trumpet , and doth call His Groomes to witnesse ; or else lets it fall In that proud manner : as a good so gain'd , Must make me sad for what I have obtain'd . No! Gifts and thankes should have one cheerefull face , So each , that 's done , and tane , becomes a Brace . He neither gives , or do's , that doth delay A Benefit : or that doth throw 't away No more then he doth thanke , that will receive Nought but in corners ; and is loath to leave , Lest Ayre , or Print , but flies it : Such men would Run from the Conscience of it if they could . As I have seene some Infants of the Sword Well knowne , and practiz'd borrowers on their word , Give thankes by stealth , and whispering in the eare , For what they streight would to the world forsweare ; And speaking worst of those , from whom they went But then , fist fill'd to put me off the sent . Now dam'mee , Sir , if you shall not command My Sword ( 't is but a poore Sword understand ) As farre as any poore Sword i' the Land , Then turning unto him is next at hand , Dam's whom he damn'd too , is the veriest Gull , H 'as Feathers , and will serve a man to pull . Are they not worthy to be answer'd so , That to such Natures let their full hands flow , And seeke not wants to succour : but enquire Like Money-brokers ; after Names , and hire Their bounties forth , to him that last was made , Or stands to be'n Commission o' the blade ? Still , still , the hunters of false fame apply Their thoughts and meanes to making loude the cry ; But one is bitten by the Dog he fed , And hurt seeks Cure , the Surgeon bids take bread , And spunge-like with it dry up the blood quite : Then give it to the Hound that did him bite ; Pardon , sayes he , that were a way to see All the Towne-curs take each their snatch at me . O , is it so ? knowes he so much ? and will Feed those , at whom the Table points at still ? I not deny it , but to helpe the need Of any , is a Great and generous Deed : Yea , of th' ingratefull : and he forth must tell Many a pound , and piece will pace one well ; But these men ever want : their very trade Is borrowing , that but stopt they doe invade All as their prize , turne Pyrats here at Land , Ha'their Bermudas , and their streights i' th' Strand : Man out of their Boates to th' Temple , and not shift Now , but command ; make tribute , what was gift ; And it is paid 'hem with a trembling zeale , And superstiti● ▪ I dare scarce reveale If it were cleare , but being so in cloud Carryed and wrapt , I only am aloud My wonder ! why ? the taking a Clownes purse , Or robbing the poore Market-folkes should nurse Such a religious horrour in the brests Of our Towne Gallantry ! or why there rests Such worship due to kicking of a Punck ! Or swaggering with the Watch , or Drawer drunke ; Or feats of darknesse acted in Mid-Sun , And told of with more Licence then th' were done ! Sure there is Misterie in it , I not know That men such reverence to such actions show ! And almost deifie the Authors ! make Lowd sacrifice of drinke , for their health-sake Reare Suppers in their Names ! and spend whole nights Unto their praise , in certaine swearing rites ; Cannot a man be reck'ned in the State Of Valour , but at this Idolatrous rate ? I thought that Fortitude had beene a meane 'Twixt feare and rashnesse : not a lust obscene , Or appetite of offending , but a skill , Or Science of a discerning Good and Ill. And you Sir know it well to whom I write , That with these mixtures we put out her light Her ends are honestie , and publike good ! And where they want , she is not understood . No more are these of us , let them then goe , I have the lyst of mine owne faults to know , Looke too and cure ; Hee 's not a man hath none , But like to be , that every day mends one , And feeles it ; Else he tarries by the Beast , Can I discerne how shadowes are decreast , Or growne ; by height or lownesse of the Sunne ? And can I lesse of substance ? when I runne , Ride , saile , am coach'd , know I how farre I have gone , And my minds motion not ? or have I none : No! he must feele and know , that I will advance Men have beene great , but never good by chance , Or on the sudden . It were strange that he Who was this Morning such a one , should be Sydney e're night ? or that did goe to bed Coriat , should rise the most sufficient head Of Christendome ? And neither of these know Were the Rack offer'd them how they came so ; 'T is by degrees that men arrive at glad Profit in ought each day some little adde , In time 't will be a heape ; This is not true Alone in money , but in manners too . Yet we must more then move still , or goe on , We must accomplish ; 'T is the last Key-stone That makes the Arch , The rest that there were put Are nothing till that comes to bind and shut . Then stands it a triumphall marke ! then Men Observe the strength , the height , the why , and when , It was erected ; and still walking under Meet some new matter to looke up and wonder ! Such Notes are vertuous men ! they live as fast As they are high ; are rooted and will last . They need no stilts , nor rise upon their toes , As if they would belie their stature , those Are Dwarfes of Honour , and have neither weight Nor fashion , if they chance aspire to height , 'T is like light Canes , that first rise big and brave , Shoot forth in smooth and comely spaces ; have But few and faire Devisions : but being got A loft , grow lesse and streightned ; full of knot . And last , goe out in nothing : You that see Their difference , cannot choose which you will be . You know ( without my flatt'ring you ) too much For me to be your Indice . Keep you such , That I may love your Person ( as I doe ) Without your gift , though I can rate that too , By thanking thus the curtesie to life , Which you will bury , but therein , the strife May grow so great to be example , when ( As their true rule or lesson ) either men Donnor's or Donnee's to their practise shall Find you to reckon nothing , me owe all .
An Epistle to Master IOHN SELDEN . I Know to whom I write Here , I am sure , Though I am short , I cannot be obscure : Lesse shall I for the Art or dressing care , Truth , and the Graces best , when naked are Your Booke , my Selden , I have read , and much Was trusted , that you thought my judgement such To aske it : though in most of workes it be A pennance , where a man may not be free . Rather then Office , when it doth or may Chance that the Friends affection proves Allay Unto the Censure . Yours all need doth flie Of this so vitious Humanitie . Then which there is not unto Studie , a more Pernitious enemie , we see before A many of bookes , even good judgements wound Themselves through favouring what is there not found : But I on yours farre otherwise shall doe , Not flie the Crime , but the Suspition too : Though I confesse ( as every Muse hath err'd , And mine not least ) I have too oft preferr'd Men , past their termes , and prais'd some names too much , But 't was with purpose to have made them such , Since being deceiv'd , I turne a sharper eye Upon my selfe , and aske to whom ? and why ? And what I write ? and vexe it many dayes Before men get a verse : much lesse a Praise ; So that my Reader is assur'd , I now Meane what I speake : and still will keepe that Vow , Stand forth my Object , then you that have beene Ever at home : yet , have all Countries seene : And like a Compasse keeping one foot still Upon your Center , doe your Circle fill Of generall knowledge ; watch'd men , manners too , Heard what times past have said , seene what ours doe : Which Grace shall I make love too first ? your skill , Or faith in things ? or is 't your wealth and will T' instruct and teach ? or your unweary'd paine Of Gathering ? Bountie in pouring out againe ? What fables have you vext ! what truth redeem'd ! Antiquities search'd ! Opinions dis-esteem'd ! Impostures branded ! and Authorities urg'd , What blots and errours , have you watch'd and purg'd Records , and Authors of ! how rectified , Times , manners , customes ! Innovations spide ! Sought out the Fountaines , Sources , Creekes , paths , wayes , And noted the beginnings and decayes ! Where is that nominall marke , or reall rite , Forme Act or Ensigne , that hath scap'd your sight . How are Traditions there examin'd : how Conjectures retriv'd ! And a Storie now And then of times ( besides the bare Conduct Of what it tells us ) weav'd in to instruct . I wonder'd at the richnesse , but am lost , To see the workmanship so'xceed the cost ! To marke the excellent seas'ning of your Stile ! And manly elocution , not one while With horrour rough , then rioting with wit ! But to the Subject , still the Colours fit In sharpnesse of all Search , wisdome of Choise , Newnesse of Sense , Antiquitie of voyce ! I yeeld , I yeeld , the matter of your praise Flowes in upon me , and I cannot raise A banke against it . Nothing but the round Large claspe of Nature , such a wit can bound Monarch in Letters ! 'Mongst thy Titles showne Of others honours , thus , enjoy their owne , I first salute thee so ; and gratulate With that thy Stile , thy keeping of thy State ; In offering this thy worke to no great Name , That would , perhaps , have prais'd , and thank'd the same , But nought beyond . He thou hast given it to , Thy learned Chamber-fellow , knowes to doe It true respects . He will not only love Embrace , and cherish ; but he can approve And estimate thy Paines ; as having wrought In the same Mines of knowledge ; and thence brought Humanitie enough to be friend , And strength to be a Champion , and defend Thy gift 'gainst envie . O how I doe count Among my commings in , and see it mount , The Graine of your two friendships ! Hayward and Selden ! two Names that so much understand ! On whom I could take up , and ne're abuse The Credit , what would furnish a tenth Muse ! But here 's no time , nor place , my wealth to tell , You both are modest . So am I. Farewell .
An Epistle to a Friend , to perswade him to the Warres . WAke , friend from forth thy Lethargie : the Drum Beates brave , and loude in Europe , and bids come All that dare rowse : or are not loth to quit Their vitious ease , and be o'rewhelm'd with it . It is a call to keepe the spirits alive That gaspe for action , and would yet revive Mans buried honour , in his sleepie life : Quickning dead Nature , to her noblest strife . All other Acts of Worldlings , are but toyle In dreames , begun in hope , and end in spoile . Looke on th' ambitious man , and see him nurse , His unjust hopes , with praises begg'd , or ( worse ) Bought Flatteries , the issue of his purse , Till he become both their , and his owne curse ! Looke on the false , and cunning man , that loves No person , nor is lov'd : what wayes he proves To gaine upon his belly ; and at last Crush'd in the snakie brakes , that he had past ! See , the grave , sower , and supercilious Sir In outward face , but inward , light as Furre , Or Feathers : lay his fortune out to show Till envie wound , or maime it at a blow ! See him , that 's call'd , and thought the happiest man , Honour'd at once , and envi'd ( if it can Be honour is so mixt ) by such as would For all their spight be like him if they could : No part or corner man can looke upon , But there are objects , bid him to be gone As farre as he can flie , or follow Day , Rather then here so bogg'd in vices stay The whole world here leaven'd with madnesse swells ? And being a thing , blowne out of nought , rebells Against his Maker ; high alone with weeds , And impious ranknesse of all Sects and seeds : Not to be checkt , or frighted now with fate , But more licentious made , and desperate ! Our Delicacies are growne capitall , And even our sports are dangers ! what we call Friendship is now mask'd Hatred ! Justice fled , And shamefastnesse together ! All lawes dead That kept man living ! Pleasures only sought ! Honour and honestie , as poore things thought As they are made ! Pride , and stiffe Clownage mixt To make up Greatnesse ! and mans whole good fix'd In bravery , or gluttony , or coyne , All which he makes the servants of the Groine , Thither it flowes , how much did Stallion spend To have his Court-bred-fillie there commend His Lace and Starch ; And fall upon her back In admiration , stretch'd upon the rack Of lust , to his rich Suit and Title , Lord ? I , that 's a Charme and halfe ! She must afford That all respect ; She must lie downe : Nay more 'T is there civilitie to be a whore ; Hee 's one of blood , and fashion ! and with these The bravery makes , she can no honour leese To do 't with Cloth , or Stuffes , lusts name might merit With Velvet , Plush , and Tissues , it is spirit . O , these so ignorant Monsters ! light , as proud , Who can behold their Manners , and not clowd - Like upon them lighten ? If nature could Not make a verse ; Anger ; or laughter would To see 'hem aye discoursing with their Glasse , How they may make some one that day an Asse Planting their Purles , and Curles spread forth like Net , And every Dressing for a Pitfall set To catch the flesh in , and to pound a Prick Be at their Visits , see 'hem squemish , sick Ready to cast , at one , whose band sits ill , And then , leape mad on a neat Pickardill ; As if a Brize were gotten i' their tayle , And firke , and jerke , and for the Coach-man raile , And jealous each of other , yet thinke long To be abroad chanting some baudie song , And laugh , and measure thighes , then squeake , spring , itch , Doe all the tricks of a saut Lady Bitch ; For t' other pound of sweet-meats , he shall feele That payes , or what he will . The Dame is steele , For these with her young Companie shee 'll enter , Where Pittes , or Wright , or Modet would not venter , And comes by these Degrees , the Stile t' inherit Of woman of fashion , and a Lady of spirit : Nor is the title question'd with our proud , Great , brave , and fashion'd folke , these are allow'd Adulteries now , are not so hid , or strange , They 're growne Commoditie upon Exchange ; He that will follow but anothers wife , Is lov'd , though he let out his owne for life : The Husband now 's call'd churlish , or a poore Nature , that will not let his Wife be a whore ; Or use all arts , or haunt all Companies That may corrupt her , even in his eyes . The brother trades a sister ; and the friend Lives to the Lord , but to the Ladies end . Lesse must not be thought on then Mistresse : or If it be thought kild like her Embrions ; for , Whom no great Mistresse , hath as yet infam'd A fellow of course Letcherie , is nam'd The Servant of the Serving-woman in scorne , Ne're came to taste the plenteous Mariage-horne . Thus they doe talke . And are these objects fit For man to spend his money on ? his wit ? His time ? health ? soule ? will he for these goe throw Those thousands on his back , shall after blow His body to the Counters , or the Fleete ? Is it for these that fine man meets the street Coach'd , or on foot cloth , thrice chang'd every day , To teach each suit , he has the ready way From Hide-Parke to the Stage , where at the last His deare and borrow'd Bravery he must cast ? When not his Combes , his Curling-irons , his Glasse , Sweet bags , sweet Powders , nor sweet words will passe For lesse Securitie ? O for these Is it that man pulls on himselfe Disease ? Surfet ? and Quarrell ? drinkes the tother health ? Or by Damnation voids it ? or by stealth ? What furie of late is crept into our Feasts ? What honour given to the drunkennest Guests ? What reputation to beare one Glasse more ? When oft the Bearer , is borne out of dore ? This hath our ill-us'd freedome , and soft peace Brought on us , and will every houre increase Our vices , doe not tarry in a place , But being in Motion still ( or rather in race ) Tilt one upon another , and now beare This way , now that , as if their number were More then themselves , or then our lives could take , But both fell prest under the load they make . I 'le bid thee looke no more , but flee , flee friend , This Praecipice , and Rocks that have no end , Or side , but threatens Ruine . The whole Day Is not enough now , but the Nights to play : And whilst our states , strength , body , and mind we waste ; Goe make our selves the Usurers at a cast . He that no more for Age , Cramps , Palsies , can Now use the bones , we see doth hire a man To take the box up for him ; and pursues The Dice with glassen eyes , to the glad viewers Of what he throwes : Like letchers growne content To be beholders , when their powers are spent . Can we not leave this worme ? or will we not ? Is that the truer excuse ? or have we got In this , and like , an itch of Vanitie , That scratching now 's our best Felicitie ? Well , let it goe . Yet this is better , then To lose the formes , and dignities of men To flatter my good Lord , and cry his Bowle Runs sweetly , as it had his Lordships Soule , Although , perhaps it has , what 's that to me , That may stand by , and hold my peace ? will he When I am hoarse , with praising his each cast , Give me but that againe , that I must wast In Sugar Candide , or in butter'd beere , For the recovery of my voyce ? No , there Pardon his Lordship . Flattry's growne so cheape With him , for he is followed with that heape That watch , and catch , at what they may applaud As a poore single flatterer , without Baud Is nothing , such scarce meat and drinke he 'le give , But he that 's both , and slave to both , shall live , And be belov'd , while the Whores last . O times , Friend flie from hence ; and let these kindled rimes : Light thee from hell on earth : where flatterers , spies , Informers , Masters both of Arts and lies , Lewd slanderers , soft whisperers that let blood The life , and fame-vaynes ( yet not understood Of the poore sufferers ) where the envious , proud , Ambitious , factious , superstitious , lowd Boasters , and perjur'd , with the infinite more Praevaricators swarme . Of which the store , ( Because th' are every where amongst Man-kind Spread through the World ) is easier farre to find , Then once to number , or bring forth to hand , Though thou wert Muster-master of the Land . Goe quit 'hem all . And take along with thee , Thy true friends wishes , Colby which shall be , That thine be just , and honest , that thy Deeds Not wound thy conscience , when thy body bleeds ; That thou dost all things more for truth , then glory , And never but for doing wrong be sory ; That by commanding first thy selfe , thou mak'st Thy person fit for any charge thou tak'st That fortune never make thee to complaine , But what she gives , thou dar'st give her againe ; That whatsoever face thy fate puts on , Thou shrinke or start not ; but be alwayes one , That thou thinke nothing great , but what is good , And from that thought strive to be understood . So , ' live or dead , thou wilt preserve a fame Still pretious , with the odour of thy name . And last , blaspheme not , we did never heare Man thought the valianter , 'cause he durst sweare No more , then we should thinke a Lord had had More honour in him , 'cause we 'ave knowne him mad : These take , and now goe seeke thy peace in Warre , Who falls for love of God , shall rise a Starre .
An Epitaph on Master PHILIP GRAY . Reader stay , And if I had no more to say , But here doth lie till the last Day , All that is left of PHILIP GRAY . It might thy patience richly pay : For , if such men as he could die , What suretie of life have thou , and I.
Epistle To a Friend . THey are not , Sir , worst Owers , that doe pay Debts when they can : good men may breake their day ; And yet the noble Nature never grudge , 'T is then a crime , when the Usurer is Judge . And he is not in friendship . Nothing there Is done for gaine : If 't be 't is not sincere . Nor should I at this time protested be , But that some greater names have broke with me , And their words too ; where I but breake my Band , I adde that ( but ) because I understand That as the lesser breach : for he that takes Simply my Band , his trust in me forsakes , And lookes unto the forfeit . If you be Now so much friend , as you would trust in me , Venter a longer time , and willingly : All is not barren land , doth fallow lie . Some grounds are made the richer , for the Rest ; And I will bring a Crop , if not the best .
An Elegie . CAn Beautie that did prompt me first to write , Now threaten , with those meanes she did invite : Did her perfections call me on to gaze ! Then like , then love ; and now would they amaze ! Or was she gracious a-farre off ? but neere A terror ? or is all this but my feare ? That as the water makes things , put in 't , streight , Crooked appeare ; so that doth my conceipt : I can helpe that with boldnesse ; And love sware , And fortune once , t' assist the spirits that dare . But which shall lead me on ? both these are blind Such Guides men use not , who their way would find . Except the way be errour to those ends : And then the best are still , the blindest friends ! Oh how a Lover may mistake ! to thinke , Or love , or fortune blind , when they but winke To see men feare : or else for truth , and State , Because they would free Justice imitate , Vaile their owne eyes , and would impartially Be brought by us to meet our Destinie . If it be thus ; Come love , and fortune goe , I 'le lead you on ; or if my fate will so , That I must send one first , my Choyce assignes , Love to my heart , and fortune to my lines .
An Elegie . BY those bright Eyes , at whose immortall fires Love lights his torches to inflame desires ; By that faire Stand , your forehead , whence he bends His double Bow , and round his Arrowes sends ; By that tall Grove , your haire ; whose globy rings He flying curles , and crispeth , with his wings . By those pure bathes your either cheeke discloses , Where he doth steepe himselfe in Milke and Roses ; And lastly by your lips , the banke of kisses , Where men at once may plant , and gather blisses : Tell me ( my lov'd Friend ) doe you love or no ? So well as I may tell in verse , 't is so ? You blush , but doe not : friends are either none , ( Though they may number bodyes ) or but one . I 'le therefore aske no more , but bid you love ; And so that either may example prove Unto the other ; and live patternes , how Others , in time may love , as we doe now . Slip no occasion ; As time stands not still , I know no beautie , nor no youth that will . To use the present , then , is not abuse , You have a Husband is the just excuse Of all that can be done him ; Such a one As would make shift , to make himselfe alone , That which we can , who both in you , his Wife , His Issue , and all Circumstance of life As in his place , because he would not varie , Is constant to be extraordinarie .
A Satyricall Shrub . A Womans friendship ! God whom I trust in , Forgive me this one foolish deadly sin ; Amongst my many other , that I may No more , I am sorry for so fond cause , say At fifty yeares , almost , to value it , That ne're was knowne to last above a fit ? Or have the least of Good , but what it must Put on for fashion , and take up on trust : Knew I all this afore ? had I perceiv'd , That their whole life was wickednesse , though weav'd Of many Colours ; outward fresh , from spots , But their whole inside full of ends , and knots ? Knew I , that all their Dialogues , and discourse , were such as I will now relate , or worse .

Here , something is wanting .

............................ ............................ Knew I this Woman ? yes ; And you doe see , How penitent I am , or I should be ? Doe not you aske to know her , she is worse Then all Ingredients made into one curse , And that pour'd out upon Man-kind can be ! Thinke but the Sin of all her sex , 't is she ! I could forgive her being proud ! a whore ! Perjur'd ! and painted ! if she were no more — , But she is such , as she might , yet forestall The Divell ; and be the damning of us all .
A little Shrub growing by . ASke not to know this Man . If fame should speake His name in any mettall , it would breake . Two letters were enough the plague to teare Out of his Grave , and poyson every eare . A parcell of Court-durt , a heape , and masse Of all vice hurld together , there he was , Proud , false , and trecherous , vindictive , all That thought can adde , unthankfull , the lay-stall Of putrid flesh alive ! of blood , the sinke ! And so I leave to stirre him , lest he stinke .
An Elegie . THough Beautie be the Marke of praise , And yours of whom I sing be such As not the World can praise too much , Yet is 't your vertue now I raise . A vertue , like Allay , so gone Throughout your forme ; as though that move ; And draw , and conquer all mens love , This subjects you to love of one . Wherein you triumph yet : because 'T is of your selfe , and that you use The noblest freedome , not to chuse Against or Faith , or honours lawes . But who should lesse expect from you , In whom alone love lives agen ? By whom he is restor'd to men : And kept , and bred , and brought up true ? His falling Temples you have rear'd The withered Garlands tane away ; His Altars kept from the Decay , That envie wish'd , and Nature fear'd . And on them burne so chaste a flame , With so much Loyalties expence As Love t'aquit such excellence . Is gone himselfe into your Name . And you are he : the Dietie To whom all Lovers are design'd ; That would their better objects find : Among which faithfull troope am I. Who as an off-spring at your shrine , Have sung this Hymne , and here intreat One sparke of your Diviner heat To light upon a Love of mine . Which if it kindle not , but scant Appeare , and that to shortest view , Yet give me leave t' adore in you What I , in her , am griev'd to want .
An Ode . To himselfe . WHere do'st thou carelesse lie Buried in ease and sloth ? Knowledge , that sleepes , doth die ; And this Securitie , It is the common Moath , That eats on wits , and Arts , and destroyes them both . Are all th' Aonian springs Dri'd up ? lyes Thespia wast ? Doth Clarius Harp want strings , That not a Nymph now sings ! Or droop they as disgrac 't , To see their Seats and Bowers by chattring Pies defac't ? If hence thy silence be , As 't is too just a cause ; Let this thought quicken thee , Minds that are great and free , Should not on fortune pause , 'T is crowne enough to vertue still , her owne applause . What though the greedie Frie Be taken with false Baytes Of worded Balladrie , And thinke it Poësie ? They die with their conceits , And only pitious scorne , upon their folly waites . Then take in hand thy Lyre , Strike in thy proper straine , With Japhets lyne , aspire Sols Chariot for new fire , To give the world againe : Who aided him , will thee , the issue of Joves braine . And since our Daintie age , Cannot indure reproofe . Make not thy selfe a Page , To that strumpet the Stage , But sing high and aloofe , Safe from the wolves black jaw , and the dull Asses hoofe .
The mind of the Frontispice to a Booke . FRom Death , and darke oblivion , ne're the same , The Mistresse of Mans life , grave Historie Razing the World to good and evill fame Doth vindicate it to eternitie . Wise Providence would so ; that nor the good Might be defrauded , nor the great secur'd , But both might know their wayes were understood , When Vice alike in time with vertue dur'd Which makes that ( lighted by the beamie hand Of Truth that searcheth the most Springs And guided by experience , whose straite wand Doth meet , whose lyne doth sound the depth of things : ) Shee chearfully supporteth what she reares , Assisted by no strengths , but are her owne , Some note of which each varied Pillar beares , By which as proper titles , she is knowne Times witnesse , herald of Antiquitie , The light of Truth , and life of Memorie .
An Ode to IAMES Earle of Desmond , writ in Queene ELIZABETHS time , since lost , and recovered . WHere art thou Genius ? I should use Thy present Aide : Arise Invention , Wake , and put on the wings of Pindars Muse , To towre with my intention High , as his mind , that doth advance Her upright head , above the reach of Chance , Or the times envie : Cynthius , I applie My bolder numbers to thy golden Lyre : O , then inspire Thy Priest in this strange rapture ; heat my braine With Delphick fire : That I may sing my thoughts , in some unvulgar straine . Rich beame of honour , shed your light On these darke rymes ; that my affection May shine ( through every chincke ) to every fight graced by your Reflection ! Then shall my Verses , like strong Charmes Breake the knit Circle of her Stonie Armes , That hold your spirit : And keepes your merit Lock't in her cold embraces , from the view Of eyes more true , Who would with judgement search , searching conclude , ( As prov'd in you ) True noblêsse . Palme growes straight , though handled ne're so rude ? Nor thinke your selfe unfortunate , If subject to the jealous errors Of politique pretext , that wryes a State , Sinke not beneath these terrors : But whisper ; O glad Innocence Where only a mans birth is his offence ; Or the dis-favour , Of such as savour Nothing , but practise upon honours thrall . O vertues fall , When her dead essence ( like the Anatomie in Surgeons hall ) Is but a Statists theame , to read Phlebotomie . Let Brontes , and black Steropes , Sweat at the forge , their hammers beating ; Pyracmon's houre will come to give them ease , Though but while mettal's heating : And , after all the Aetnean Ire , Gold , that is perfect , will out-live the fire . For fury wasteth , As patience lasteth . No Armour to the mind ! he is shot free From injurie , That is not hurt ; not he , that is not hit ; So fooles we see , Oft scape an Imputation , more through luck , then wit . But to your selfe most loyall Lord , ( Whose heart in that bright Sphere flames clearest . Though many Gems be in your bosome stor'd , Unknowne which is the Dearest . ) If I auspitiously devine , ( As my hope tells ) that our faire Phoeb's shine , Shall light those places , With lustrous Graces , Where darknesse with her glomie Sceptred hand , Doth now command . O then ( my best-best lov'd let me importune , That you will stand , As farre from all revolt , as you are now from Fortune .
An Ode . High spirited friend , I send nor Balmes , nor Cor'sives to your wound , Your fate hath found , A gentler , and more agile hand , to tend The Cure of that , which is but corporall , And doubtfull Dayes ( which were nam'd Criticall , ) Have made their fairest flight , And now are out of sight . Yet doth some wholsome Physick for the mind , Wrapt in this paper lie , Which in the taking if you mis-apply , You are unkind . Your covetous hand , Happy in that faire honour it hath gain'd , Must now be rayn'd . True valour doth her owne renowne command In one full Action ; nor have you now more To doe ; then be a husband of that store . Thinke but how deare you bought , This same which you have caught , Such thoughts wil make you more in love with truth 'T is wisdome and that high , For men to use their fortune reverently , Even in youth .
An Ode . HEllen , did Homer never see Thy beauties , yet could write of thee ? Did Sappho on her seven-tongu'd Lute , So speake ( as yet it is not mute ) Of Phaos forme ? or doth the Boy In whom Anacreon once did joy , Lie drawne to life , in his soft Verse , As he whom Maro did rehearse ? Was Lesbia sung by learn'd Catullus ? Or Delia's Graces , by Tibullus ? Doth Cynthia , in Propertius song Shine more , then she the Stars among ? Is Horace his each love so high Rap't from the Earth , as not to die ? With bright Lycoris , Gallus choice , Whose fame hath an eternall voice . Or hath Corynna , by the name Her Ovid gave her , dimn'd the fame Of Caesars Daughter , and the line Which all the world then styl'd devine ? Hath Petrarch since his Laura rais'd Equall with her ? or Ronsart prais'd His new Cassandra , 'bove the old , Which all the Fate of Troy foretold ? Hath our great Sydney , Stella set , Where never Star shone brighter yet ? Or Constables Ambrosiack Muse , Made Dian , not his notes refuse ? Have all these done ( and yet I misse The Swan that so relish'd Pancharis ) And shall not I my Celia bring , Where men may see whom I doe sing , Though I , in working of my song Come short of all this learned throng , Yet sure my tunes will be the best , So much my Subject drownes the rest .
A Sonnet . To the noble Lady , the Lady MARY WORTH . I That have beene a lover , and could shew it , Though not in these , in rithmes not wholly dumbe , Since I exscribe your Sonnets , am become A better lover , and much better Poët . Nor is my Muse , or I asham'd to owe it . To those true numerous Graces ; whereof some , But charme the Senses , others over-come Both braines and hearts ; and mine now best doe know it : For in your verse all Cupids Armorie , His flames , his shafts , his Quiver , and his Bow , His very eyes are yours to overthrow . But then his Mothers sweets you so apply , Her joyes , her smiles , her loves , as readers take For Venus Ceston , every line you make .
A Fit of Rime against Rime . RIme the rack of finest wits , That expresseth but by fits , True Conceipt Spoyling Senses of their Treasure , Cosening Judgement with a measure , But false weight . Wresting words , from their true calling ; Propping Verse , for feare of falling To the ground . Joynting Syllabes , drowning Letters , Fastning Vowells , as with fetters They were bound ! Soone as lazie thou wert knowne , All good Poëtrie hence was flowne , And are banish'd . For a thousand yeares together , All Pernassus Greene did wither , And wit vanish'd . Pegasus did flie away , At the Wells no Muse did stay , But bewail'd . So to see the Fountaine drie , And Apollo's Musique die , All light failed ! Starveling rimes did fill the Stage , Not a Poët in an Age , Worth crowning . Not a worke deserving Baies , Nor a lyne deserving praise , Pallas frowning ; Greeke was free from Rimes infection , Happy Greeke by this protection ! Was not spoyled . Whilst the Latin , Queene of Tongues , Is not yet free from Rimes wrongs , But rests foiled . Scarce the hill againe doth flourish , Scarce the world a Wit doth nourish , To restore , Phoebus to his Crowne againe ; And the Muses to their braine ; As before . Vulgar Languages that want Words , and sweetnesse , and be scant Of true measure , Tyran Rime hath so abused , That they long since have refused , Other ceasure ; He that first invented thee , May his joynts tormented bee , Cramp'd forever ; Still may Syllabes jarre with time , Stil may reason warre with rime , Resting never . May his Sense when it would meet , The cold tumor in his feet , Grow unsounder . And his Title be long foole , That in rearing such a Schoole , Was the founder .
* * Presented upon a plate of Gold to his son Rob. E. of Salisbury , when he was also Tresurer . An Epigram On WILLAM Lord Burl : Lo: high Treasurer of England . IF thou wouldst know the vertues of Man-kind Read here in one , what thou in all canst find , And goe no farther : let this Circle be Thy Universe , though his Epitome Cecill , the grave , the wise , the great , the good , What is there more that can ennoble blood ? The Orphans Pillar , the true Subjects shield , The poores full Store-house , and just servants field . The only faithfull Watchman for the Realme , That in all tempests , never quit the helme , But stood unshaken in his Deeds , and Name , And labour'd in the worke ; not with the fame : That still was good for goodnesse sake , nor thought Upon reward , till the reward him sought . Whose Offices , and honours did surprize , Rather than meet him : And , before his eyes Clos'd to their peace , he saw his branches shoot , And in the noblest Families tooke root Of all the Land , who now at such a Rate , Of divine blessing , would not serve a State ?
* * For a poore Man . An Epigram . To THOMAS Lo: ELSMERE , the last Terme he sate Chancellor . SO justest Lord , may all your Judgements be Lawes ; and no change e're come to one decree : So , may the King proclaime your Conscience is Law , to his Law ; and thinke your enemies his : So , from all sicknesse , may you rise to health , The Care , and wish still of the publike wealth , So may the gentler Muses , and good fame Still flie about the Odour of your Name ; As with the safetie , and honour of the Lawes , You favour Truth , and me , in this mans Cause .
* * For the same . Another to him . THe Judge his favour timely then extends , When a good Cause is destitute of friends , Without the pompe of Counsell ; or more Aide , Then to make falshood blush , and fraud afraid : When those good few , that her Defenders be , Are there for Charitie , and not for fee. Such shall you heare to Day , and find great foes Both arm'd with wealth , and slander to oppose , Who thus long safe , would gaine upon the times A right by the prosperitie of their Crimes ; Who , though their guilt , and perjurie they know , Thinke , yea and boast , that they have done it so As though the Court pursues them on the sent , They will come of , and scape the Punishment , When this appeares , just Lord , to your sharp sight , He do's you wrong , that craves you to doe right .
An Epigram to the Councellour that pleaded , and carried the Cause . THat I hereafter , doe not thinke the Barre , The Seat made of a more then civill warre ; Or the great Hall at Westminster , the field Where mutuall frauds are fought , and no side yeild ; That henceforth , I beleeve nor bookes , nor men , Who 'gainst the Law , weave Calumnies my — But when I read or heare the names so rife Of hirelings , wranglers , stitchers-to of strife , Hook-handed Harpies , gowned Vultures , put Upon the reverend Pleaders ; doe now shut All mouthes , that dare entitle them ( from hence ) To the Wolves studie , or Dogs eloquence ; Thou art my Cause : whose manners since I knew , Have made me to conceive a Lawyer new . So dost thou studie matter , men , and times , Mak'st it religion to grow rich by Crimes ! Dar'st not abuse thy wisdome , in the Lawes , Or skill to carry out an evill cause ! But first dost vexe , and search it ! If not sound , Thou prov'st the gentler wayes , to clense the wound , And make the Scarre faire ; If that will not be , Thou hast the brave scorne , to put back the fee ! But in a businesse , that will bide the Touch , What use , what strength of reason ! and how much Of Bookes , of Presidents , hast thou at hand ? As if the generall store thou didst command Of Argument , still drawing forth the best , And not being borrowed by thee , but possest . So comm'st thou like a Chiefe into the Court Arm'd at all peeces , as to keepe a Fort Against a multitude ; and ( with thy Stile So brightly brandish'd ) wound'st , defend'st ! the while Thy Adversaries fall , as not a word They had , but were a Reed unto thy Sword . Then com'st thou off with Victorie and Palme , Thy Hearers Nectar , and thy Clients Balme , The Courts just honour , and thy Judges love . And ( which doth all Atchievements get above ) Thy sincere practise , breeds not thee a fame Alone , but all thy ranke a reverend Name .
An Epigram . To the small Poxe . ENvious and foule Disease , could there not be One beautie in an Age , and free from thee ? What did she worth thy spight ? were there not store Of those that set by their false faces more Then this did by her true ? she never sought Quarrell with Nature , or in ballance brought Art her false servant ; Nor , for Sir Hugh Plot , Was drawne to practise other hue , then that Her owne bloud gave her : Shee ne're had , nor hath Any beliefe , in Madam Baud-bees bath , Or Turners oyle of Talck . Nor ever got Spanish receipt , to make her teeth to rot . What was the cause then ? Thought'st thou in disgrace Of Beautie , so to nullifie a face , That heaven should make no more ; or should amisse , Make all hereafter , had'st thou ruin'd this . I , that thy Ayme was ; but her fate prevail'd : And scorn'd , thou 'ast showne thy malice , but hast fail'd .
An Epitaph . WHat Beautie would have lovely stilde , What manners prettie , Nature milde , What wonder perfect , all were fill'd , Upon record in this blest child . And , till the comming of the Soule To fetch the flesh , we keepe the Rowle .
A Song . LOVER . C●●e , let us here enjoy the shade , For love ; in shadow best is made . Though Envie oft his shadow be , None brookes the Sun-light worse then he . MISTRES . Where love doth shine , there needs no Sunne , All lights into his one doth run ; Without which all the world were darke ; Yet he himselfe is but a sparke . ARBITER . A Sparke to set whole world a-fire , Who more they burne , they more desire , And have their being , their waste to see ; And waste still , that they still might bee . CHORVS . Such are his powers , whom time hath stil'd , Now swift , now slow , now tame , now wild ; Now hot , now cold , now fierce , now mild , The eldest God , yet still a Child .
An Epistle to a friend . SIr , I am thankfull , first , to heaven , for you ; Next to your selfe , for making your love true : Then to your love , and gift . And all 's but due . You have unto my Store added a booke , On which with profit , I shall never looke , But must confesse from whom what gift I tooke . Not like your Countrie-neighbours , that commit Their vice of loving for a Christmasse fit ; Which is indeed but friendship of the spit : But , as a friend , which name your selfe receave , And which you ( being the worthier ) gave me leave In letters , that mixe spirits , thus to weave . Which , how most sacred I will ever keepe , So may the fruitfull Vine my temples steepe , And Fame wake for me , when I yeeld to sleepe . Though you sometimes proclaime me too fevere , Rigid , and harsh , which is a Drug austere In friendship , I confesse : But deare friend , heare . Little know they , that professe Amitie , And seeke to scant her comelie libertie , How much they lame her in her propertie . And lesse they know , who being free to use That friendship which no chance but love did chuse , Will unto Licence that faire leave abuse . It is an Act of tyrannie , not love In practiz'd friendship wholly to reprove , As flatt'ry with friends humours still to move . From each of which I labour to be free , Yet if with eithers vice I teynted be , Forgive it , as my frailtie , and not me . For no man lives so out of passions sway , But shall sometimes be tempted to obey Her furie , yet no friendship to betray .
An Elegie . 'T Is true , I 'm broke ! Vowes , Oathes , and all I had Of Credit lost . And I am now run madde : Or doe upon my selfe some desperate ill ; This sadnesse makes no approaches , but to kill . It is a Darknesse hath blockt up my sense , And drives it in to eat on my offence , Or there to sterve it , helpe O you that may Alone lend succours , and this furie stay , Offended Mistris , you are yet so faire , As light breakes from you , that affrights despaire , And fills my powers with perswading joy , That you should be too noble to destroy . There may some face or menace of a storme Looke forth , but cannot last in such forme . If there be nothing worthy you can see Of Graces , or your mercie here in me Spare your owne goodnesse yet ; and be not great In will and power , only to defeat . God , and the good , know to forgive , and save . The ignorant , and fooles , no pittie have . I will not stand to justifie my fault , Or lay the excuse upon the Vintners vault ; Or in confessing of the Crime be nice , Or goe about to countenance the vice , By naming in what companie 't was in , As I would urge Authoritie for sinne . No , I will stand arraign'd , and cast , to be The Subject of your Grace in pardoning me , And ( Stil'd your mercies Creature ) will live more Your honour now , then your disgrace before , Thinke it was frailtie , Mistris , thinke me man , Thinke that your selfe like heaven forgive me can , Where weaknesse doth offend , and vertue grieve , There greatnesse takes a glorie to relieve . Thinke that I once was yours , or may be now , Nothing is vile , that is a part of you : Errour and folly in me may have crost Your just commands ; yet those , not I be lost . I am regenerate now , become the child Of your compassion ; Parents should be mild : There is no Father that for one demerit , Or two , or three , a Sonne will dis-inherit , That is the last of punishments is meant ; No man inflicts that paine , till hope be spent : An ill-affected limbe ( what e're it aile ) We cut not off , till all Cures else doe faile : And then with pause ; for sever'd once , that 's gone , Would live his glory that could keepe it on : Doe not despaire my mending ; to distrust Before you prove a medicine , is unjust , You may so place me , and in such an ayre As not alone the Cure , but scarre be faire . That is , if still your Favours you apply , And not the bounties you ha' done , deny . Could you demand the gifts you gave , againe ! Why was 't ? did e're the Cloudes aske back their raine ? The Sunne his heat , and light , the ayre his dew ? Or winds the Spirit , by which the flower so grew ? That were to wither all , and make a Grave Of that wise Nature would a Cradle have ? Her order is to cherish , and preserve , Consumptions nature to destroy , and sterve . But to exact againe what once is given , Is natures meere obliquitie ! as Heaven Should aske the blood , and spirits he hath infus'd In man , because man hath the flesh abus'd . O may your wisdome take example hence , God lightens not at mans each fraile offence , He pardons , slips , goes by a world of ills , And then his thunder frights more , then it kills . He cannot angrie be , but all must quake , It shakes even him , that all things else doth shake . And how more faire , and lovely lookes the world In a calme skie ; then when the heaven is horl'd About in Cloudes , and wrapt in raging weather , As all with storme and tempest ran together . O imitate that sweet Serenitie That makes us live , not that which calls to die In darke , and sullen mornes ; doe we not say This looketh like an Execution day ? And with the vulgar doth it not obtaine The name of Cruell weather , storme , and raine ? Be not affected with these markes too much Of crueltie , lest they doe make you such . But view the mildnesse of your Makers state , As I the penitents here emulate : He when he sees a sorrow such as this , Streight puts off all his Anger , and doth kisse The contrite Soule , who hath no thought to win Upon the hope to have another sin Forgiven him ; And in that lyne stand I Rather then once displease you more , to die To suffer tortures , scorne , and Infamie , What Fooles , and all their Parasites can apply ; The wit of Ale , and Genius of the Malt Can pumpe for ; or a Libell without salt Produce ; though threatning with a coale , or chalke On every wall , and sung where e're I walke . I number these as being of the Chore Of Contumelie , and urge a good man more Then sword , or fire , or what is of the race To carry noble danger in the face : There is not any punishment , or paine , A man should flie from , as he would disdaine . Then Masters here , here let your rigour end , And let your mercie make me asham'd t' offend . I will no more abuse my vowes to you , Then I will studie falshood , to be true . O , that you could but by dissection see How much you are the better part of me ; How all my Fibres by your Spirit doe move , And that there is no life in me , but love . You would be then most confident , that tho Publike affaires command me now to goe Out of your eyes , and be awhile away ; Absence , or Distance , shall not breed decay . Your forme shines here , here fixed in my heart I may dilate my selfe , but not depart . Others by common Stars their courses run , When I see you , then I doe see my Sun , Till then 't is all but darknesse , that I have , Rather then want your light , I wish a grave .
An Elegie . TO make the Doubt cleare that no Woman's true , Was it my fate to prove it full in you . Thought I but one had breath'd the purer Ayre , And must she needs be false , because she 's faire ? It is your beauties Marke , or of your youth , Or your perfection not to studie truth ; Or thinke you heaven is deafe ? or hath no eyes ? Or those it has , winke at your perjuries ; Are vowes so cheape with women ? or the matter Whereof they are made , that they are writ in water ; And blowne away with wind ? or doth their breath Both hot and cold at once , threat life and death ? Who could have thought so many accents sweet Tun'd to our words , so many sighes should meet Blowne from our hearts , so many oathes and teares Sprinkled among ? All sweeter by our feares , And the Devine Impression of stolne kisses , That seal'd the rest , could now prove emptie blisses ? Did you draw bonds to forfeit ? Signe , to breake , Or must we read you quite from what you speake , And find the truth out the wrong way ? or must He first desire you false , would wish you just ? O , I prophane ! though most of women be , The common Monster , Love shall except thee My dearest Love , how ever jealousie , With Circumstance might urge the contrarie . Sooner I 'le thinke the Sunne would cease to cheare The teeming Earth , and that forget to beare ; Sooner that Rivers would run back , or Thames With ribs of Ice in June would bind his streames : Or Nature , by whose strength the world indures , Would change her course , before you alter yours : But , O , that trecherous breast to whom , weake you Did trust our counsells , and we both may rue , Having his falshood found too late ! 't was he That made me cast you Guiltie , and you me . Whilst he black wretch , betray'd each simple word We spake unto the comming of a third ! Curst may he be that so our love hath slaine , And wander wretched on the earth , as Cain . Wretched as he , and not deserve least pittie In plaguing him let miserie be wittie . Let all eyes shun him , and he shun each eye , Till he be noysome as his infamie ; May be without remorse deny God thrice , And not be trusted more on his soules price ; And after all selfe-torment , when he dyes May Wolves teare out his heart , Vultures his eyes , Swyne eat his Bowels , and his falser Tongue , That utter'd all , be to some Raven flung , And let his carrion corse be a longer feast To the Kings Dogs , then any other beast . Now I have curst , let us our love receive ; In me the flame was never more alive . I could begin againe to court and praise , And in that pleasure lengthen the short dayes Of my lifes lease ; like Painters that doe take Delight , not in made workes , but whilst they make I could renew those times , when first I saw Love in your eyes , that gave my tongue the Law To like what you lik'd , and at Masques , or Playes , Commend the selfe-same Actors , the same wayes Aske how you did ? and often with intent Of being officious , grow impertinent ; All which were such lost pastimes , as in these Love was as subtly catch'd as a Disease . But , being got , it is a treasure , sweet , Which to defend , is harder then to get ; And ought not be prophan'd on either part , For though 't is got by chance , 't is kept by art .
An Elegie . THat Love 's a bitter sweet , I ne're conceive Till the sower Minute comes of taking leave , And then I taste it . But as men drinke up In hast the bottome of a med'cin'd Cup , And take some sirrup after ; so doe I To put all relish from my memorie Of parting , drowne it in the hope to meet Shortly againe : and make our absence sweet . This makes me M rs . that sometime by stealth Under another Name , I take your health ; And turne the Ceremonies of those Nights I give , or owe my friends , into your Rites , But ever without blazon , or least shade Of vowes so sacred , and in silence made ; For though Love thrive , and may grow up with cheare , And free societie , hee 's borne else-where , And must be bred , so to conceale his birth , As neither wine doe rack it out , or mirth . Yet should the Lover still be ayrie and light In all his Actions ratified to spright Not like a Midas shut up in himselfe , And turning all he toucheth into pelfe , Keepe in reserv'd in his Dark lanterne face , As if that ex'lent Dulnesse were Loves grace ; No Masters no , the open merrie Man Moves like a sprightly River , and yet can Keepe secret in his Channels what he breedes 'Bove all your standing waters , choak'd with weedes . They looke at best like Creame-bowles , and you soone Shall find their depth : they 're sounded with a spoone . They may say Grace , and for Loves Chaplaines passe ; But the grave Lover ever was an Asse ; Is fix'd upon one leg , and dares not come Out with the other , for hee 's still at home ; Like the dull wearied Crane that ( come on land ) Doth while he keepes his watch , betray his stand . Where he that knowes will like a Lapwing flie Farre from the Nest , and so himselfe belie . To others as he will deserve the Trust Due to that one , that doth believe him just . And such your Servant is , who vowes to keepe The Jewell of your name , as close as sleepe Can lock the Sense up , or the heart a thought , And never be by time , or folly brought , Weaknesse of braine , or any charme of Wine , The sinne of Boast , or other countermine ( Made to blow up loves secrets ) to discover That Article , may nor become our lover : Which in assurance to your brest I tell , If I had writ no word , but Deare , farewell .
An Elegie . SInce you must goe , and I must bid farewell , Heare Masters , your departing servant tell What it is like : And doe not thinke they can Be idle words , though of a parting Man ; It is as if a night should shade noone-day , Or that the Sun was here , but forc't away ; And we were left under that Hemisphere , Where we must feele it Darke for halfe a yeare . What fate is this to change mens dayes and houres , To shift their seasons , and destroy their powers ! Alas I ha' lost my heat , my blood , my prime , Winter is come a Quarter e're his Time , My health will leave me ; and when you depart , How shall I doe sweet Mistris for my heart ? You would restore it ? No , that 's worth a feare , As if it were not worthy to be there : O , keepe it still ; for it had rather be Your sacrifice , then here remaine with me . And so I spare it , Come what can become Of me , I 'le softly tread unto my Tombe ; Or like a Ghost walke silent amongst men , Till I may See both it and you agen .
An Elegie . LEt me be what I am , as Virgil cold As Horace fat ; or as Anacreon old ; No Poets verses yet did ever move , Whose Readers did not thinke he was in love . Who shall forbid me then in Rithme to bee As light , and Active as the youngest hee That from the Muses fountaines doth indorse His lynes , and hourely sits the Poets horse Put on my Ivy Garland , let me see Who frownes , who jealous is , who taxeth me . Fathers , and Husbands , I doe claime a right In all that is call'd lovely : take my sight Sooner then my affection from the faire . No face , no hand , proportion , line , or Ayre Of beautie ; but the Muse hath interest in : There is not worne that lace , purle , knot or pin , But is the Poëts matter : And he must When he is furious love , although not lust . But then content , your Daughters and your Wives , ( If they be faire and worth it ) have their lives Made longer by our praises . Or , if not Wish , you had fowle ones , and deformed got ; Curst in their Cradles , or there chang'd by Elves , So to be sure you doe injoy your selves . Yet keepe those up in sackcloth too , or lether , For Silke will draw some sneaking Songster thither . It is a ryming Age , and Verses swarme At every stall ; The Cittie Cap 's a charme . But I who live , and have liv'd twentie yeare Where I may handle Silke , as free , and neere , As any Mercer ; or the whale-bone man That quilts those bodies , I have leave to span : Have eaten with the Beauties , and the wits , And braveries of Court , and felt their fits Of love , and hate : and came so nigh to know Whether their faces were their owne , or no. It is not likely I should now looke downe Upon a Velvet Petticote , or a Gowne , Whose like I have knowne the Taylors Wife put on To doe her Husbands rites in , e're'twere gone Home to the Customer : his Letcherie Being , the best clothes still to praeoccupie . Put a Coach-mare in Tissue , must I horse Her presently ? Or leape thy Wife of force . When by thy sordid bountie she hath on , A Gowne of that , was the Caparison ? So I might dote upon thy Chaires ; and Stooles That are like cloath'd , must I be of those fooles Of race accompted , that no passion have But when thy Wife ( as thou conceiv'st ) is brave ? Then ope thy wardrobe , thinke me that poore Groome that from the Foot-man , when he was become An Officer there , did make most solemne love , To ev'ry Petticote he brush'd , and Glove He did lay up , and would adore the shooe , Or slipper was left off , and kisse it too , Court every hanging Gowne , and after that , Lift up some one , and doe , I tell not what . Thou didst tell me ; and wert o're-joy'd to peepe In at a hole , and see these Actions creepe From the poore wretch , which though he play'd in prose , He would have done in verse , with any of those Wrung on the Withers , by Lord Loves despight , Had he had the facultie to reade , and write ! Such Songsters there are store of ; witnesse he That chanc'd the lace , laid on a Smock , to see And straight-way spent a Sonnet ; with that other That ( in pure Madrigall ) unto his Mother Commended the French-hood , and Scarlet gowne The Lady Mayresse pass'd in through the Towne , Unto the Spittle Sermon . O , what strange Varietie of Silkes were on th' Exchange ! Or in Moore-fields ! this other night , sings one , Another answers , 'Lasse those Silkes are none In smiling L'envoye , as he would deride Any Comparison had with his Cheap-side . And vouches both the Pageant , and the Day , When not the Shops , but windowes doe display The Stuffes , the Velvets , Plushes , Fringes , Lace , And all the originall riots of the place : Let the poore fooles enjoy their follies , love A Goat in Velvet ; or some block could move Under that cover ; an old Mid-wives hat ! Or a Close-stoole so cas'd ; or any fat Bawd , in a Velvet scabberd ! I envy None of their pleasures ! nor will aske thee , why Thou art jealous of thy Wifes , or Daughters Case : More then of eithers manners , wit , or face !
An Execration upon Vulcan . ANd why to me this , thou lame Lord of fire , What had I done that might call on thine ire ? Or urge thy Greedie flame , thus to devoure So many my Yeares-labours in an houre ? I ne're attempted Vulcan 'gainst thy life ; Nor made least line of love to thy loose Wife ; Or in remembrance of thy afront , and scorne With Clownes , and Tradesmen , kept thee clos'd in horne . 'T was Jupiter that hurl'd thee headlong downe , And Mars , that gave thee a Lanthorne for a Crowne ? Was it because thou wert of old denied By Jove to have Minerva for thy Bride . That since thou tak'st all envious care and paine , To ruine any issue of the braine ? Had I wrote treason there , or heresie , Imposture , witchcraft , charmes , or blasphemie ? I had deserv'd then , thy consuming lookes , Perhaps , to have beene burned with my bookes . But , on thy malice , tell me , didst thou spie Any , least loose , or surrile paper , lie Conceal'd , or kept there , that was fit to be , By thy owne vote , a sacrifice to thee ? Did I there wound the honours of the Crowne ? Or taxe the Glories of the Church , and Gowne ? Itch to defame the State ? or brand the Times ? And my selfe most , in some selfe-boasting Rimes ? If none of these , then why this fire ? Or find A cause before ; or leave me one behind . Had I compil'd from Amadis de Gaule , Th' Esplandians , Arthur's , Palmerins , and all The learned Librarie of Don Quixote ; And so some goodlier monster had begot , Or spun out Riddles , and weav'd fittie tomes Of Logogriphes , and curious Palindromes , Or pomp'd for those hard trifles Anagrams , Or Eteostichs , or those finer flammes Of Egges , and Halberds , Cradles , and a Herse , A paire of Scisars , and a Combe in verse ; Acrostichs , and Telestichs , on jumpe names , Thou then hadst had some colour for thy flames , On such my serious follies ; But , thou 'lt say , There were some pieces of as base allay , And as false stampe there ; parcels of a Play , Fitter to see the fire-light , then the day ; Adulterate moneys , such as might not goe : Thou should'st have stay'd , till publike fame said so . Shee is the Judge , Thou Executioner , Or if thou needs would'st trench upon her power , Thou mightst have yet enjoy'd thy crueltie With some more thrift , and more varietie : Thou mightst have had me perish , piece , by piece , To light Tobacco , or save roasted Geese . Sindge Capons , or poore Pigges , dropping their eyes ; Condemn'd me to the Ovens with the pies ; And so , have kept me dying a whole age , Not ravish'd all hence in a minutes rage . But that 's a marke , wherof thy Rites doe boast , To make consumption , ever where thou go'st ; Had I fore-knowne of this thy least desire T' have held a Triumph , or a feast of fire , Especially in paper ; that , that steame Had tickled your large Nosthrill : many a Reame To redeeme mine , I had sent in enough , Thou should'st have cry'd , and all beene proper stuffe . The Talmud , and the Alcoran had come , With pieces of the Legend ; The whole summe Of errant Knight-hood , with the Dames , and Dwarfes ; The charmed Boates , and the inchanted Wharfes , The Tristram's , Lanc'lots , Turpins , and the Peer's , All the madde Rolands , and sweet Oliveer's ; To Merlins Marvailes , and his Caballs losse , With the Chimaera of the Rosie-Crosse , Their Seales , their Characters , Hermetique rings , Their Jemme of Riches , and bright Stone , that brings Invisibilitie , and strength , and tongues : The art of kindling the true Coale , by lungs With Nicholas Pasquill's , Meddle with your match , And the strong lines , that so the time doe catch , Or Captaine Pamplets horse , and foot ; that sallie Upon th' Exchange , still out of Popes-head-Alley . The weekly Corrants , with Pauls Seale ; and all Th' admir'd discourses of the Prophet Ball : These , had'st thou pleas'd either to dine , or sup , Had made a meale for Vulcan to lick up . But in my Deske , what was there to accite So ravenous , and vast an appetite ? I dare not say a body , but some parts There were of search , and mastry in the Arts. All the old Venusine , in Poëtrie , and lighted by the Stagerite , could spie , Was there mad English : with the Grammar too , To teach some that , their Nurses could doe . The puritie of Language ; and among The rest , my journey into Scotland song , With all th' adventures ; Three bookes not afraid To speake the fate of the Sicilian Maid To our owne Ladyes ; and in storie there Of our fift Henry , eight of his nine yeare ; Wherein was oyle , beside the succour spent , Which noble Carew , Cotton , Selden lent : And twice-twelve-yeares stor'd up humanitie , With humble Gleanings in Divinitie ; After the Fathers , and those wiser Guides Whom Faction had not drawne to studie sides . How in these ruines Vulcan , thou dost lurke , All soote , and embers ! odious , as thy worke ! I now begin to doubt , if ever Grace , Or Goddesse , could be patient of thy face . Thou woo Minerva ! or to wit aspire ! 'Cause thou canst halt , with us in Arts , and Fire ! Sonne of the Wind ! for so thy mother gone With lust conceiv'd thee ; Father thou hadst none When thou wert borne , and that thou look'st at best , She durst not kisse , but flung thee from her brest . And so did Jove , who ne're meant thee his Cup : No mar'le the Clownes of Lemnos tooke thee up . For none but Smiths would have made thee a God . Some Alchimist there may be yet , or odde Squire of the Squibs , against the Pageant day , May to thy name a Vulcanale say ; And for it lose his eyes with Gun-powder , As th' other may his braines with Quicksilver . Well-fare the Wise-man yet , on the Banckside , My friends , the Watermen ! They could provide Against thy furie , when to serve their needs , They made a Vulcan of a sheafe of Reedes , Whom they durst handle in their holy-day coates , And safely trust to dresse , not burne their Boates. But , O those Reeds ! thy meere disdaine of them , Made thee beget that cruell Stratagem , ( Which , some are pleas'd to stile but thy madde pranck ) Against the Globe , the Glory of the Banke . Which , though it were the Fort of the whole Parish , Flanck'd with a Ditch , and forc'd out of a Marish , I saw with two poore Chambers taken in And raz'd ; e're thought could urge , this might have beene ! See the worlds Ruines ! nothing but the piles Left ! and wit since to cover it with Tiles . The Brethren , they streight nois'd it out for Newes , 'T was verily some Relique of the Stewes . And this a Sparkle of that fire let loose That was lock'd up in the Winchestrian Goose Bred on the Banck , in time of Poperie , When Venus there maintain'd in Misterie . But , others fell , with that conceipt by the eares , And cry'd , it was a threatning to the beares ; And that accursed ground , the Parish-Garden : Nay , sigh'd , ah Sister 't was the Nun , Kate Arden Kindled the fire ! But , then did one returne , No Foole would his owne harvest spoile , or burne ! If that were so , thou rather would'st advance The place , that was thy Wives inheritance . O no , cry'd all . Fortune , for being a whore , Scap'd not his Justice any jot the more : He burnt that Idoll of the Revels too : Nay , let White-Hall with Revels have to doe , Though but in daunces , it shall know his power ; There was a Judgement shew'n too in an houre . Hee is true Vulcan still ! He did not spare Troy , though it were so much his Venus care . Foole , wilt thou let that in example come ? Did not she save from thence , to build a Rome ? And what hast thou done in these pettie spights , More then advanc'd the houses , and their rites ? I will not argue thee , from those of guilt , For they were burnt , but to be better built . 'T is true , that in thy wish they were destroy'd , Which thou hast only vented , not enjoy'd . So would'st th' have run upon the Rolls by stealth , And didst invade part of the Common-wealth , In those Records , which were all Chronicles gone , Will be remembred by Six Clerkes , to one . But , say all fixe , Good Men , what answer yee ? Lyes there no Writ , out of the Chancerie Against this Vulcan ? No Injunction ? No order ? no Decree ? Though we be gone At Common-Law : Me thinkes in his despight A Court of Equitie should doe us right . But to confine him to the Brew-houses , The Glasse-house , Dye-fats , and their Fornaces ; To live in Sea-coale , and goe forth in smoake ; Or lest that vapour might the Citie choake , Condemne him to the Brick-kills , or some Hill-foot ( out in Sussex ) to an iron Mill ; Or in small Fagots have him blaze about Vile Tavernes , and the Drunkards pisse him out ; Or in the Bell-Mans Lanthorne like a spie , Burne to a snuffe , and then stinke out , and die : I could invent a sentence , yet were worse ; But I 'le conclude all in a civill curse . Pox on your flameship , Vulcan ; if it be To all as fatall as 't hath beene to me , And to Pauls-Steeple ; which was unto us 'Bove all your Fire-workes , had at Ephesus , Or Alexandria ; and though a Divine Losse , remaines yet , as unrepair'd as mine . Would you had kept your Forge at Aetna still , And there made Swords , Bills , Glaves , and Armes your fill . Maintain'd the trade at Bilbo ; or else-where ; Strooke in at Millan with the Cutlers there ; Or stay'd but where the Fryar , and you first met , Who from the Divels-Arse did Guns beget , Or fixt in the Low-Countrey's , where you might On both sides doe your mischiefes with delight ; Blow up , and ruine , myne , and countermyne , Make your Petards , and Granats , all your fine Engines of Murder , and receive the praise Of massacring Man-kind so many wayes . We aske your absence here , we all love peace , And pray the fruites thereof , and the increase ; So doth the King , and most of the Kings men That have good places : therefore once agen , Pox on thee Vulcan , thy Pandora's pox , And all the Evils that flew out of her box Light on thee : Or if those plagues will not doo , Thy Wives pox on thee , and B.Bs. too .
A speach according to Horace . WHy yet my noble hearts they cannot say , But we have Powder still for the Kings Day , And Ord'nance too : so much as from the Tower T' have wak'd , if sleeping , Spaines Ambassadour Old Aesope Gundomar : the French can tell , For they did see it the last tilting well , That we have Trumpets , Armour , and great Horse , Launces , and men , and some a breaking force . They saw too store of feathers , and more may , If they stay here , but till Saint Georges Day . All Ensignes of a Warre , are not yet dead , Nor markes of wealth so from our Nation fled , But they may see Gold-Chaines , and Pearle worne then , Lent by the London Dames , to the Lords men ; Withall , the dirtie paines those Citizens take , To see the Pride at Court , their Wives doe make : And the returne those thankfull Courtiers yeeld To have their Husbands drawne forth to the field , And comming home , to tell what acts were done Under the Auspice of young Swynnerton . What a strong Fort old Pimblicoe had beene ! How it held out ! how ( last ) 't was taken in ! Well , I say thrive , thrive brave Artillerie yard , Thou Seed-plot of the warre , that hast not spar'd Powder , or paper , to bring up the youth Of London , in the Militarie truth , These ten yeares day ; As all may sweare that looke But on thy practise , and the Posture booke : He that but saw thy curious Captaines drill , Would thinke no more of Vlushing , or the Brill : But give them over to the common eare For that unnecessarie Charge they were Well did thy craftie Clerke , and Knight , Sir Hugh Supplant bold Panton ; and brought there to view Translated Aelian tactickes to be read , And the Greeke Discipline ( with the moderne ) shed So , in that ground , as soone it grew to be The Cittie-Question , whether Tilly , or he , Were now the greater Captaine ? for they saw The Berghen siege , and taking in Breda , So acted to the life , as Maurice might , And Spinola have blushed at the sight . O happie Art ! and wise Epitome Of bearing Armes ! most civill Soldierie ! Thou canst draw forth thy forces , and fight drie The Battells of thy Aldermanitie ; Without the hazard of a drop of blood : More then the surfets , in thee , that day stood . Goe on , increast in vertue ; and in fame : And keepe the Glorie of the English name , Up among Nations . In the stead of bold Beauchamps , and Nevills , Cliffords , Audley's old ; Insert thy Hodges , and those newer men . Waller . As Stiles , Dike , Ditchfield , Millar , Crips , and Fen : That keepe the warre , though now't be growne more tame Alive yet , in the noise ; and still the same And could ( if our great men would let their Sonnes Come to their Schooles , ) show'hem the use of Guns . And there instruct the noble English heires In Politique , and Militar Affaires ; But he that should perswade , to have this done For education of our Lordings ; Soone Should he heare of billow , wind , and storme , From the Tempestuous Grandlings , who 'll informe Us , in our bearing , that are thus , and thus , Borne , bred , allied ? what 's he dare tutor us ? Are we by Booke-wormes to be awde ? must we Live by their Scale , that dare doe nothing free ? Why are we rich , or great , except to show All licence in our lives ? What need we know ? More then to praise a Dog ? or Horse ? or speake The Hawking language ? or our Day to breake With Citizens ? let Clownes ; and Tradesmen breed Their Sonnes to studie Arts , the Lawes , the Creed : We will beleeve like men of our owne Ranke , In so much land a yeare , or such a Banke , That turnes us so much moneys , at which rate Our Ancestors impos'd on Prince and State . Let poore Nobilitie be vertuous : Wee , Descended in a rope of Titles , be From Guy , or Bevis , Arthur , or from whom The Herald will . Our blood is now become , Past any need of vertue . Let them care , That in the Cradle of their Gentrie are ; To serve the State by Councels , and by Armes : We neither love the Troubles , nor the harmes . What love you then ? your whore ? what study ? gate , Carriage , and dressing . There is up of late ? The Academie , where the Gallants meet — What to make legs ? yes , and to smell most sweet , All that they doe at Playes . O , but first here They learne and studie ; and then practise there . But why are all these Irons i' the fire Of severall makings ? helps , helps , t'attire His Lordship . That is for his Band , his haire This , and that box his Beautie to repaire ; This other for his eye-browes ; hence , away , I may no longer on these pictures stay , These Carkasses of honour ; Taylors blocks , Cover'd with Tissue , whose prosperitie mocks The fate of things : whilst totter'd vertue holds Her broken Armes up , to their emptie moulds .
An Epistle to Master Arth : Squib . WHat I am not , and what I faine would be , Whilst I informe my selfe , I would teach thee , My gentle Arthur ; that it might be said One lesson we have both learn'd , and well read ; I neither am , nor art thou one of those That hearkens to a Jacks-pulse , when it goes . Nor ever trusted to that friendship yet Was issue of the Taverne , or the Spit : Much lesse a name would we bring up , or nurse , That could but claime a kindred from the purse . Those are poore Ties , depend on those false ends , 'T is vertue alone , or nothing that knits friends : And as within your Office , you doe take No piece of money , but you know , or make Inquirie of the worth : So must we doe , First weigh a friend , then touch , and trie him too : For there are many slips , and Counterfeits . Deceit is fruitfull . Men have Masques and nets , But these with wearing will themselves unfold : They cannot last . No lie grew ever old . Turne him , and see his Threds : looke , if he be Friend to himselfe , that would be friend to thee . For that is first requir'd , A man be his owne . But he that 's too-much that , is friend of none . Then rest , and a friends value understand It is a richer Purchase then of land .
An Epigram on Sir Edward Coke , when he was Lord chiefe Iustice of England . HE that should search all Glories of the Gowne , And steps of all rais'd servants of the Crowne He could not find , then thee of all that store Whom Fortune aided lesse , or vertue more , Such , Coke , were thy beginnings , when thy good In others evill best was understood : When , being the Strangers helpe , the poore man aide , Thy just defences made th' oppressor afraid . Such was thy Processe , when Integritie , And skill in thee , now , grew Authoritie ; That Clients strove , in Question of the Lawes , More for thy Patronage , then for their Cause , And that thy strong and manly Eloquence Stood up thy Nations fame , her Crownes defence , And now such is thy stand ; while thou dost deale Desired Justice to the publique Weale Like Solons selfe ; explat'st the knottie Lawes With endlesse labours , whilst thy learning drawes No lesse of praise , then readers in all kinds Of worthiest knowledge , that can take mens minds . Such is thy All ; that ( as I sung before ) None Fortune aided lesse , or Vertue more . Or if Chance must , to each man that doth rise Needs lend an aide , to thine she had her eyes .
An Epistle answering to one that asked to be Sealed of the Tribe of BEN. MEn that are safe , and sure , in all they doe , Care not what trials they are put unto ; They meet the fire , the Test , as Martyrs would ; And though Opinion stampe them , not are gold , I could say more of such , but that I flie To speake my selfe out too ambitiously , And shewing so weake an Act to vulgar eyes ; Put conscience and my right to comprimise . Let those that meerely talke , and never thinke , That live in the wild Anarchie of Drinke Subject to quarrell only ; or else such As make it their proficiencie , how much They 'ave glutted in , and letcher'd out that weeke , That never yet did friend , or friendship seeke But for a Sealing : let these men protest . Or th' other on their borders , that will jeast On all Soules that are absent ; even the dead Like flies , or wormes , which mans corrupt parts fed : That to speake well , thinke it above all sinne , Of any Companie but that they are in , Call every night to Supper in these fitts , And are receiv'd for the Covey of Witts ; That censure all the Towne , and all th' affaires , And know whose ignorance is more then theirs ; Let these men have their wayes , and take their times To vent their Libels , and to issue rimes , I have no portion in them , nor their deale Of newes they get , to strew out the long meale , I studie other friendships , and more one , Then these can ever be ; or else wish none . What is 't to me whether the French Designe Be , or be not , to get the Val-telline ? Or the States Ships sent forth belike to meet Some hopes of Spaine in their West-Indian Fleet ? Whether the Dispensation yet be sent , Or that the Match from Spaine was ever meant ? I wish all well , and pray high heaven conspire My Princes safetie , and my Kings desire , But if for honour , we must draw the Sword , And force back that , which will not be restor'd , I have a body , yet , that spirit drawes To live , or fall , a Carkasse in the cause . So farre without inquirie what the States , Brunsfield , and Mansfield doe this yeare , my fates Shall carry me at Call ; and I 'le be well , Though I doe neither heare these newes , nor tell Of Spaine or France ; or were not prick'd downe one Of the late Mysterie of reception , Although my Fame , to his , not under-heares , That guides the Motions , and directs the beares . But that 's a blow , by which in time I may Lose all my credit with my Christmas Clay , And animated Porc'lane of the Court , I , and for this neglect , the courser sort Of earthen Jarres , there may molest me too : Well , with mine owne fraile Pitcher , what to doe I have decreed ; keepe it from waves , and presse ; Lest it be justled , crack'd made nought , or lesse : Live to that point I will for which I am man , And dwell as in my Center , as I can Still looking too , and ever loving heaven ; With reverence using all the gifts then given . 'Mongst which , if I have any friendships sent Such as are square , wel-tagde , and permanent , Not built with Canvasse , paper , and false lights As are the Glorious Scenes , at the great sights ; And that there be no fev'ry heats , nor colds , Oylie Expansions , or shrunke durtie folds , But all so cleare , and led by reasons flame , As but to stumble in her sight were shame . These I will honour , love , embrace , and serve : And free it from all question to preserve . So short you read my Character , and theirs I would call mine , to which not many Staires Are asked to climbe . First give me faith , who know My selfe a little . I will take you so , As you have writ your selfe . Now stand , and then Sir , you are Sealed of the Tribe of Ben.
The Dedication of the Kings new Cellar . To Bacchus . SInce , Bacchus , thou art father Of Wines , to thee the rather We dedicate this Cellar , Where new , thou art made Dweller ; And seale thee thy Commission : But'tis with a condition , That thou remaine here taster Of all to the great Master . And looke unto their faces , Their Qualities , and races , That both , their odour take him , And relish merry make him . For Bacchus thou art freer Of cares , and over-seer , Of feast , and merry meeting , And still begin'st the greeting : See then thou dost attend him Lyoeus , and defend him , By all the Arts of Gladnesse From any thought like sadnesse . So mayst thou still be younger Then Phoebus ; and much stronger To give mankind their eases , And cure the Worlds diseases : So may the Muses follow Thee still , and leave Apollo And thinke thy streame more quicker Then Hippocrenes liquor : And thou make many a Poet , Before his braine doe know it ; So may there never Quarrell Have issue from the Barrell ; But Venus and the Graces Pursue thee in all places , And not a Song be other Then Cupid , and his Mother . That when King James , above here Shall feast it , thou maist love there The causes and the Guests too , And have thy tales and jests too , Thy Circuits , and thy Rounds free As shall the feasts faire grounds be . Be it he hold Communion In great Saint Georges Union ; Or gratulates the passage Of some wel-wrought Embassage : Whereby he may knit sure up The wished Peace of Europe : Or else a health advances , To put his Court in dances , And set us all on skipping , When with his royall shipping The narrow Seas are shadie , And Charles brings home the Ladie . Accessit fervor Capiti , Numerusque Lucernis .
An Epigram on The Court Pucell . DO's the Court-Pucell then so censure me , And thinkes I dare not her ? let the world see . What though her Chamber be the very pit Where fight the prime Cocks of the Game , for wit ? And that as any are strooke , her breath creates New in their stead , out of the Candidates ? What though with Tribade lust she force a Muse , And in an Epicaene fury can write newes Equall with that , which for the best newes goes As aërie light , and as like wit as those ? What though she talke , and cannot once with them , Make State , Religion , Bawdrie , all a theame . And as lip-thirstie , in each words expence , Doth labour with the Phrase more then the sense ? What though she ride two mile on Holy-dayes To Church , as others doe to Feasts and Playes , To shew their Tires ? to view , and to be view'd ? What though she be with Velvet gownes indu'd , And spangled Petticotes brought forth to eye , As new rewards of her old secrecie ! What though she hath won on Trust , as many doe , And that her truster feares her ? Must I too ? I never stood for any place : my wit Thinkes it selfe nought , though she should valew it . I am no States-man , and much lesse Divine For bawdry , 't is her language , and not mine . Farthest I am from the Idolatrie To stuffes and Laces , those my Man can buy . And trust her I would least , that hath forswore In Contract twice , what can shee perjure more ? Indeed , her Dressing some man might delight , Here face there 's none can like by Candle light . Not he , that should the body have , for Case To his poore Instrument , now out of grace . Shall I advise thee Pucell ? steale away From Court , while yet thy fame hath some small day ; The wits will leave you , if they once perceive You cling to Lords , and Lords , if them you leave For Sermoneeres : of which now one , now other , They say you weekly invite with fits o'th'Mother , And practise for a Miracle ; take heed This Age would lend no faith to Dorrels Deed ; Or if it would , the Court is the worst place , Both for the Mothers , and the Babes of grace , For there the wicked in the Chaire of scorne , Will cal 't a Bastard , when a Prophet's borne .
An Epigram . To the honour'd — Countesse of — THe Wisdome Madam of your private Life , Where with this while you live a widowed wife , And the right wayes you take unto the right , To conquer rumour , and triumph on spight ; Not only shunning by your act , to doe Ought that is ill , but the suspition too , Is of so brave example , as he were No friend to vertue , could be silent here . The rather when the vices of the Time Are growne so fruitfull , and false pleasures climbe By all oblique Degrees , that killing height From whence they fall , cast downe with their owne weight . And though all praise bring nothing to your name , Who ( herein studying conscience , and not fame ) Are in your selfe rewarded ; yet 't will be A cheerefull worke to all good eyes , to see Among the daily Ruines that fall foule , Of State , of fame , of body , and of soule , So great a Vertue stand upright to view , As makes Penelopes old fable true , Whilst your Ulisses hath ta'ne leave to goe , Countries , and Climes manners , and men to know . Only your time you better entertaine , Then the great Homers wit , for her , could faine ; For you admit no companie , but good , And when you want those friends , or neere in blood , Or your Allies , you make your bookes your friends , And studie them unto the noblest ends , Searching for knowledge , and to keepe your mind The same it was inspir'd , rich , and refin'd . These Graces , when the rest of Ladyes view Not boasted in your life , but practis'd true , As they are hard , for them to make their owne , So are they profitable to be knowne : For when they find so many meet in one , It will be shame for them , if they have none .
Lord BACONS Birth-day . HAile happie Genius of this antient pile ! How comes it all things so about the smile ? The fire , the wine , the men ! and in the midst , Thou stand'st as if some Mysterie thou did'st ! Pardon , I read it in thy face , the day For whose returnes , and many , all these pray : And so doe I. This is the sixtieth yeare Since Bacon , and thy Lord was borne , and here ; Sonne to the grave wise Keeper of the Seale , Fame , and foundation of the English Weale . What then his Father was , that since is hee , Now with a Title more to the Degree ; Englands high Chancellor : the destin'd heire In his soft Cradle to his Fathers Chaire , Whose even Thred the Fates spinne round , and full , Out of their Choysest , and their whitest wooll . 'T is a brave cause of joy , let it be knowne , For 't were a narrow gladnesse , kept thine owne . Give me a deep-crown'd-Bowle , that I may sing In raysing him the wisdome of my King .
A Poëme sent me by Sir William Burlase . The Painter to the Poet. TO paint thy Worth , if rightly I did know it , And were but Painter halfe like thee , a Poët ; Ben , I would show it : But in this skill , m'unskilfull pen will tire , Thou , and thy worth , will still be found farre higher ; And I a Lier . Then , what a Painter's here ? or what an eater Of great attempts ! when as his skil's no greater , And he a Cheater ? Then what a Poet 's here ! whom , by Confession Of all with me , to paint without Digression There 's no Expression .
My Answer . The Poet to the Painter . WHy ? though I seeme of a prodigious wast , I am not so voluminous , and vast , But there are lines , wherewith I might b'embrac'd . 'T is true , as my wombe swells , so my backe stoupes , And the whole lumpe growes round , deform'd , and droupes , But yet the Tun at Heidelberg had houpes . You were not tied , by any Painters Law To square my Circle , I confesse ; but draw My Superficies : that was all you saw . Which if in compasse of no Art it came To be described by a Monogram , With one great blot , yo 'had form'd me as I am . But whilst you curious were to have it be An Archetipe , for all the world to see , You made it a brave piece , but not like me . O , had I now your manner , maistry , might , Your Power of handling , shadow , ayre , and spright , How I would draw , and take hold and delight . Put , you are he can paint ; I can but write : A Poet hath no more but black and white , Ne knowes he flatt'ring Colours , or false light . Yet when of friendship I would draw the face A letter'd mind , and a large heart would place To all posteritie ; I will write Burlase .
An Epigram . To , WILLIAM , Earle of Newcastle . WHen first my Lord , I saw you backe your horse , Provoke his mettall , and command his force To all the uses of the field , and race , Me thought I read the ancient Art of Thrace , And saw a Centaure , past those tales of Greece , So seem'd your horse ; and you both of a peece ! You shew'd like Perseus upon Pegasus ; Or Castor mounted on his Cyllarus ▪ Or what we heare our home-borne Legend tell , Of bold Sir Bevis , and his Arundell : Nay , so your Seate his beauties did endorse , As I began to wish my selfe a horse : And surely had I but your Stable seene Before : I thinke my wish absolv'd had beene . For never saw I yet the Muses dwell , Nor any of their houshold halfe so well . So well ! as when I saw the floore , and Roome I look'd for Hercules to be the Groome : And cri'd , away , with the Caesarian bread , At these Immortall Mangers Virgil fed .
Epistle To Mr. ARTHUR SQUIB . I Am to dine , Friend , where I must be weigh'd For a just wager , and that wager paid If I doe lose it : And , without a Tale A Merchants Wife is Regent of the Scale . Who when shee heard the match , concluded streight , An ill commoditie ! 'T must make good weight . So that upon the point , my corporall feare Is , she will play Dame Justice , too severe ; And hold me to it close ; to stand upright Within the ballance ; and not want a mite ; But rather with advantage to be found Full twentie stone ; of which I lack two pound : That 's six in silver ; now within the Socket Stinketh my credit , if into the Pocket It doe not come : One piece I have in store , Lend me , deare Arthur , for a weeke five more , And you shall make me good , in weight , and fashion , And then to be return'd ; or protestation To goe out after — till when take this letter For your securitie . I can no better .
To Mr. IOHN BURGES . WOuld God my Burges , I could thinke Thoughts worthy of thy gift , this Inke , Then would I promise here to give Verse , that should thee , and me out-live . But since the Wine hath steep'd my braine I only can the Paper staine ; Yet with a Dye , that feares no Moth , But Scarlet-like out-lasts the Cloth .
Epistle . To my Lady COVELL . YOu won not Verses , Madam , you won mee , When you would play so nobly , and so free . A booke to a few lynes : but , it was fit You won them too , your oddes did merit it , So have you gain'd a Servant , and a Muse : The first of which I feare , you will refuse ; And you may justly , being a tardie cold , Unprofitable Chattell , fat and old , Laden with Bellie , and doth hardly approach His friends , but to breake Chaires , or cracke a Coach . His weight is twenty Stone within two pound ; And that 's made up as doth the purse abound . Marrie the Muse is one , can tread the Aire , And stroke the water , nimble , chast , and faire , Sleepe in a Virgins bosome without feare , Run all the Rounds in a soft Ladyes eare , Widow or Wife , without the jealousie Of either Suitor , or a Servant by . Such , ( if her manners like you ) I doe send : And can for other Graces her commend , To make you merry on the Dressing stoole , A mornings , and at afternoones , to foole Away ill company , and helpe in rime , Your Joane to passe her melancholie time . By this , although you fancie not the man Accept his Muse ; and tell , I know you can : How many verses , Madam , are your Due ! I can lose none in tendring these to you . I gaine , in having leave to keepe my Day , And should grow rich , had I much more to pay .
To Master Iohn Burges . FAther John Burges , Necessitie urges My wofull crie , To Sir Robert Pie : And that he will venter To send my Debentur . Tell him his Ben Knew the time , when He lov'd the Muses ; Though now he refuses , To take Apprehension Of a yeares Pension , And more is behind : Put him in mind Christmas is neere ; And neither good Cheare , Mirth , fooling , nor wit , Nor any least fit Of gambol , or sport Will come at the Court , If there be no money , No Plover , or Coney Will come to the Table , Or Wine to enable The Muse , or the Poet , The Parish will know it . Nor any quick-warming-pan helpe him to bed , If the ' Chequer be emptie , so will be his Head .
Epigram , to my Book-seller . THou , Friend , wilt heare all censures ; unto thee All mouthes are open , and all stomacks free : Bee thou my Bookes intelligencer , note What each man sayes of it , and of what coat His judgement is ; If he be wise , and praise , Thanke him : if other , hee can give no Bayes . If his wit reach no higher , but to spring Thy Wife a fit of laughter ; a Cramp-ring Will be reward enough : to weare like those , That hang their richest jewells i' their nose ; Like a rung Beare , or Swine : grunting out wit As if that part lay for a [ ] most fit ! If they goe on , and that thou lov'st a-life Their perfum'd judgements , let them kisse thy Wife .
An Epigram . To WILLIAM Earle of Newcastle . THey talke of Fencing , and the use of Armes , The art of urging , and avoyding harmes , The noble Science , and the maistring skill Of making just approaches how to kill : To hit in angles , and to clash with time : As all defence , or offence were a chime ! I hate such measur'd , give me mettall'd fire That trembles in the blaze , but ( then ) mounts higher ! A quick , and dazeling motion ! when a paire Of bodies , meet like ratified ayre ! Their weapons shot out , with that flame , and force , As they out-did the lightning in the course ; This were a spectacle ! A sight to draw Wonder to Valour ! No , it is the Law Of daring , not to doe a wrong , is true Valour ! to sleight it , being done to you ! To know the heads of danger ! where 't is fit To bend , to breake , provoke , or suffer it ! All this ( my Lord ) is Valour ! This is yours ! And was your Fathers ! All your Ancestours ! Who durst live great , 'mongst all the colds , and heates , Of humane life ! as all the frosts , and sweates Of fortune ! when , or death appear'd , or bands ! And valiant were , with , or without their hands .
An Epitaph , on HENRY L. La-ware . To the Passer-by . IF , Passenger , thou canst but reade : Stay , drop a teare for him that 's dead , Henry , the brave young Lord La-ware , Minerva's and the Muses care ! What could their care doe 'gainst the spight Of a Disease , that lov'd no light Of honour , nor no ayre of good ? But crept like darknesse through his blood ? Offended with the dazeling flame Of Vertue , got above his name ? No noble furniture of parts , No love of action , and high Arts. No aime at glorie , or in warre , Ambition to become a Starre , Could stop the malice of this ill , That spread his body o're , to kill : And only , his great Soule envy'd , Because it durst have noblier dy'd .
An Epigram . THat you have seene the pride , beheld the sport , And all the games of Fortune , plaid at Court ; View'd there the mercat , read the wretched rate At which there are , would sell the Prince , and State : That scarce you heare , a publike voyce alive , But whisper'd Counsells , and those only thrive ; Yet are got off thence , with cleare mind , and hands To lift to heaven : who is 't not understands Your happinesse , and doth not speake you blest , To see you set apart , thus , from the rest , T' obtaine of God , what all the Land should aske ? A Nations sinne got pardon'd ! 't were a taske ? Fit for a Bishops knees ! O bow them oft , My Lord , till felt griefe make our stone hearts soft , And wee doe weepe , to water , for our sinne . He , that in such a flood , as we are in Of riot , and consumption knowes the way , To teach the people , how to fast , and pray , And doe their penance , to avert Gods rod , He is the Man , and Favorite of God .
An Epigram . To K. CHARLES for a 100. pounds he sent me in my sicknesse . GReat CHARLES , among the holy gifts of grace Annexed to thy Person , and thy place , 'T is not enough ( thy pietie is such ) To cure the call'd Kings Evill with thy touch ; But thou wilt yet a Kinglier mastrie trie , To cure the Poëts Evill , Povertie : And , in these Cures , do'st so thy selfe enlarge , As thou dost cure our Evill , at thy charge . Nay , and in this , thou show'st to value more One Poët , then of other folke ten score . O pietie ! so to weigh the poores estates ! O bountie ! so to difference the rates ! What can the Poët wish , his King may doe , But , that he cure the Peoples Evill too ?
To K CHARLES , and Q MARY . For the losse of their first-borne , An Epigram Consolatorie . W●● dares denie , that all first fruits are due To God , denies the God-head to be true : Who doubts , those fruits God can with gaine restore , Doth by his doubt , distrust his promise more . Hee can , he will , and with large int'rest pay , What ( at his liking ) he will take away . Then Royall CHARLES , and MARY , doe not grutch That the Almighties will to you is such : But thanke his greatnesse , and his goodnesse too ; And thinke all still the best , that he will doe . That thought shall make , he will this losse supply With a long , large , and blest posteritie ! For God , whose essence is so infinite , Cannot but heape that grace , he will requite .
An Epigram . To our great and good K. CHARLES On his Anniversary Day . HOW happy were the Subject ! if he knew Most pious King , but his owne good in you ! How many times , live long , CHARLES , would he say , If he but weigh'd the blessings of this day ? And as it turnes our joyfull yeare about , For safetie of such majestie , cry out ? Indeed , when had great Brittaine greater cause Then now , to love the Soveraigne , and the Lawes ? When you that raigne , are her Example growne , And what are bounds to her , you make your owne ? When your assiduous practise doth secure That Faith , which the professeth to be pure ? When all your life 's a president of dayes , And murmure cannot quarrell at your wayes ? How is she barren growne of love ! or broke ! That nothing can her gratitude provoke ! O Times ! O Manners ! Surfet , bred of ease The truly Epidemicall disease ! 'T is not alone the Merchant , but the Clowne , Is Banke-rupt turn'd ! the Cassock , Cloake , and Gowne , Are lost upon accompt ! And none will know How much to heaven for thee , great CHARLES they owe !
An Epigram on the Princes birth ANd art thou borne , brave Babe ? Blest be thy birth ? That so hath crown'd our hopes , our spring , and earth The bed of the chast Lilly , and the Rose ! What Month then May , was fitter to disclose This Prince of flowers ? Soone shoot thou up , and grow The same that thou art promis'd , but be slow , And long in changing . Let our Nephewes see Thee , quickly the gardens eye to bee , And there to stand so . Hast , now envious Moone , And interpose thy selfe , ( ' care not how soone . ) And threat ' the great Eclipse . Two houres but runne , Sol will re-shine . If not , CHARLES hath a Sonne . — Non displicuisse meretur Festinat Caesar qui placuisse tibi .
An Epigram to the Queene , then lying in . 1630. HAile Mary , full of grace , it once was said , And by an Angell , to the blessed'st Maid The Mother of our Lord : why may not I ( Without prophanenesse ) yet , a Poët , cry Haile Mary , full of honours , to my Queene , The Mother of our Prince ? When was there seene ( Except the joy that the first Mary brought , Whereby the safetie of Man-kind was wrought . ) So generall a gladnesse to an Isle ! To make the hearts of a whole Nation smile , As in this Prince ? Let it be lawfull , so To compare small with great , as still we owe Glorie to God . Then , Haile to Mary ! spring Of so much safetie to the Realme , and King .
An Ode , or Song , by all the Muses . In celebration of her Majesties birth-day . 1630. 1. CLIO . UP publike joy , remember This sixteenth of November , Some brave un-common way : And though the Parish-steeple Be silent , to the people , Ring thou it Holy-day . 2. MEL. What , though the thriftie Tower And Gunnes there , spare to poure Their noises forth in Thunder : As fearfull to awake This Citie , or to shake Their guarded gates asunder ? 3. THAL . Yet , let our Trumpets sound ; And cleave both ayre and ground , With beating of our Drum 's : Let every Lyre be strung , Harpe , Lute , Theorbo sprung , With touch of daintie thum's ! 4. EVT . That when the Quire is full , The Harmony may pull The Angels from their Spheares : And each intelligence May wish it selfe a sense ; Whilst it the Dittie heares . 5. TERP . Behold the royall Mary , The Daughtrr of great Harry ! And Sister to just Lewis ! Comes in the pompe , and glorie Of all her Brothers storie , And of her Fathers prowesse ! 6. ERAT . Shee showes so farre above The fained Queene of Love , This sea-girt Isle upon : As here no Venus were ; But , that shee raigning here , Had got the Ceston on ! 7. CALLI . See , see our active King Hath taken twice the Ring Upon his pointed Lance : Whilst all the ravish'd rout Doe mingle in a shout , Hay ! for the flowre of France ! 8. URA. This day the Court doth measure Her joy in state , and pleasure ; And with a reverend feare , The Revells , and the Play , Summe up this crowned day , Her two and twenti'th yeare ! 9. POLY. Sweet ! happy Mary ! All The People her doe call ! And this the wombe divine ! So fruitfull , and so faire , Hath brought the Land an Heire ! And CHARLES a Caroline .
An Epigram , To the House-hold . 1630. WHat can the cause be , when the K. hath given His Poët Sack , the House-hold will not pay ? Are they so scanted in their store ? or driven For want of knowing the Poët , to say him nay ? Well , they should know him , would the K. but grant His Poët leave to sing his House-hold true ; Hee 'ld frame such ditties of their store , and want , Would make the very Greene-cloth to looke blew : And rather wish , in their expence of Sack , So , the allowance from the King to use , As the old Bard , should no Canary lack , 'T were better spare a Butt , then spill his Muse . For in the Genius of a Poëts Verse , The Kings fame lives . Go now , denie his teirce .
Epigram . To a Friend , and Sonne . SOnne , and my Friend , I had not call'd you so To mee ; or beene the same to you ; if show , Profit , or Chance had made us : But I know What , by that name , wee each to other owe , Freedome , and Truth ; with love from those begot . Wise-crafts , on which the flatterer ventures not . His is more safe commoditie , or none : Nor dares he come in the comparison . But as the wretched Painter , who so ill Painted a Dog , that now his subtler skill Was , t' have a Boy stand with a Club , and fright All live dogs from the lane , and his shops sight . Till he had sold his Piece , drawne so unlike : So doth the flattrer , with farre cunning strike At a Friends freedome , proves all circling meanes To keepe him off ; and how-so-e're he gleanes Some of his formes , he lets him not come neere Where he would fixe , for the distinctions feare . For as at distance , few have facultie To judge ; So all men comming neere can spie , Though now of flattery , as of picture are More subtles workes , and finer pieces farre , Then knew the former ages : yet to life , All is but web , and painting ; be the strife Never so great to get them : and the ends , Rather to boast rich hangings , then rare friends .
To the immortall memorie , and friendship of that noble paire , Sir LVCIVS CARY , and Sir H. MORISON . The Turne . BRave Infant of Saguntum , cleare Thy comming forth in that great yeare , When the Prodigious Hannibal did crowne His rage , with razing your immortall Towne . Thou , looking then about , E're thou wert halfe got out , Wise child , did'st hastily returne , And mad'st thy Mothers wombe thine urne . How summ'd a circle didst thou leave man-kind Of deepest lore , could we the Center find ! The Counter-turne . Did wiser Nature draw thee back , From out the horrour of that sack , Where shame , faith , honour , and regard of right Lay trampled on ; the deeds of death , and night , Urg'd , hurried forth , and horld Upon th' affrighted world : Sword , fire , and famine , with fell fury met ; And all on utmost ruine set ; As , could they but lifes miseries fore-see , No doubt all Infants would returne like thee ? The Stand. For , what is life , if measur'd by the space , Not by the act ? Or masked man , if valu'd by his face , Above his fact ? Here 's one out-liv'd his Peeres , And told forth fourescore yeares ; He vexed time , and busied the whole State ; Troubled both foes , and friends ; But ever to no ends : What did this Stirrer , but die late ? How well at twentie had he falne , or stood ! For three of his foure-score , he did no good . The Turne . Hee entred well , by vertuous parts , Got up and thriv'd with honest arts : He purchas'd friends , and fame , and honours then , And had his noble name advanc'd with men : But weary of that flight , Hee stoop'd in all mens sight To sordid flatteries , acts of strife , And sunke in that dead sea of life So deep , as he did then death's waters sup ; But that the Corke of Title boy'd him up . The Counter-turne . Alas , but Morison fell young : Hee never fell , thou fall'st my tongue . Hee stood , a Souldier to the last right end , A perfect Patriot , and a noble friend , But most a vertuous Sonne . All Offices were done By him , so ample , full , and round , In weight , in measure , number , sound , As though his age imperfect might appeare , His life was of Humanitie the Spheare . The Stand. Goe now , and tell out dayes summ'd up with feares , And make them yeares ; Produce thy masse of miseries on the Stage , To swell thine age ; Repeat of things a throng , To shew thou hast beene long , Not liv'd ; for life doth her great actions spell , By what was done and wrought In season , and so brought To light : her measures are , how well Each syllab'e answer'd , and was form'd , how faire ; These make the lines of life , and that 's her ayre . The Turne . It is not growing like a tree In bulke , doth make man better bee ; Or standing long an Oake , three hundred yeare , To fall a logge , at last , dry , bold , and seare : A Lillie of a Day , Is fairer farre , in May , Although it fall , and die that night ; It was the Plant , and flowre of light . In small proportions , we just beauties see : And in short measures , life may perfect bee . The Counter-turne . Call , noble Lucius , then for Wine , And let thy lookes with gladnesse shine : Accept this garland , plant it on thy head , And thinke , nay know , thy Morison's not dead . Hee leap'd the present age , Possest with holy rage , To see that bright eternall Day : Of which we Priests , and Poëts say Such truths , as we expect for happy men , And there he lives with memorie ; and Ben. The Stand. Johnson , who sung this of him , e're he went Himselfe to rest , Or taste a part of that full joy he meant To have exprest , In this bright Asterisme : Where it were friendships schisme , ( Were not his Lucius Long with us to tarry ) To separate these twi - Lights , the Dioscuri ; And keepe the one halfe from his Harry . But fate doth so alternate the designe , Whilst that in heav'n , this light on earth must shine . The Turne . And shine as you exalted are ; Two names of friendship , but one Starre : Of hearts the union . And those not by chance Made , or indenture , or leas'd out t' advance The profits for a time . No pleasures vaine did chime , Of rimes , or ryots , at your feasts , Orgies of drinke , or fain'd protests : But simple love of greatnesse , and of good ; That knits brave minds , and manners , more then blood . The Counter-turne . This made you first to know the Why You lik'd , then after , to apply That liking ; and approach so one the tother , Till either grew a portion of the other : Each stiled by his end , The Copie of his friend . You liv'd to be the great surnames , And titles , by which all made claimes Unto the Vertue . Nothing perfect done , But as a CARY , or a MORISON . The Stand. And such a force the faire example had , As they that saw The good , and durst not practise it , were glad That such a Law Was left yet to Man-kind ; Where they might read , and find Friendship , indeed , was written , not in words : And with the heart , not pen , Of two so early men , Whose lines her rowles were , and records . Who , e're the first downe bloomed on the chin , Had sow'd these fruits , and got the harvest in .
To the Right Honourable , the Lord high Treasurer of England . An Epistle Mendicant . MY LORD ; POore wretched states , prest by extremities , Are faine to seeke for succours , and supplies Of Princes aides , or good mens Charities . Disease , the Enemie , and his Ingineeres Want , with the rest of his conceal'd compeeres , Have cast a trench about mee , now five yeares . And made those strong approaches , by False braies , Reducts , Halfe-moones , Horne-workes , and such close wayes , The Muse not peepes out , one of hundred dayes . But lyes block'd up , and straightned , narrow'd in , Fix'd to the bed , and boords , unlike to win Health , or scarce breath , as she had never bin . Unlesse some saving - Honour of the Crowne , Dare thinke it , to relieve , no lesse renowne , A Bed-rid Wit , then a besieged Towne .
To the King . On his Birth-day . Novemb. 19 1632. An Epigram Anniversarie . THis is King CHARLES his Day . Speake it thou Towre Unto the Ships , and they from tier , to tier , Discharge it 'bout the Iland , in an houre , As lowd as Thunder , and as swift as fire . Let Ireland meet it out at Sea , halfe way , Repeating all Great Brittain's joy , and more , Adding her owne glad accents , to this Day , Like Eccho playing from the other shore . What Drum 's or Trumpets , or great Ord'nance can , The Poëtrie of Steeples , with the Bells , Three Kingdomes Mirth , in light , and aërie man , Made lighter with the Wine . All noises else , At Bonefires , Rockets , Fire-workes , with the Shoutes That cry that gladnesse , which their hearts would pray , Had they but grace , of thinking , at these routes , On th' often comming of this Holy-day : And ever close the burden of the Song , Still to have such a CHARLES , but this CHARLES long . The wish is great ; but where the Prince is such , What prayers ( People ) can you thinke too much !
On the Right Honourable , and vertuous Lord Weston , L. high Treasurer of England , Vpon the Day , Hee was made Earle of Portland . 17. Febr. 1632. To the Envious . LOoke up thou seed of envie , and still bring Thy faint , and narrow eyes , to reade the King In his great Actions : view whom his large hand , Hath rais'd to be the Port unto his Land ! WESTON ! That waking man ! that Eye of State ! Who seldome sleepes ! whom bad men only hate ! Why doe I irritate , or stirre up thee , Thou sluggish spawne , that canst , but wilt not see ! Feed on thy selfe for spight , and shew thy Kind : To vertue , and true worth , be ever blind . Dreame thou could'st hurt it , but before thou wake , T' effect it ; Feele , thou ' ast made thine owne heart ake .
To the Right honble Hierome , L. Weston . An Ode gratulatorie . For his Returne from his Embassie . SUch pleasure as the teeming Earth , Doth take in easie Natures birth , When shee puts forth the life of ev'ry thing : And in a dew of sweetest Raine , Shee lies deliver'd without paine , Of the prime beautie of the yeare , the Spring . The Rivers in their shores doe run ; The Clowdes rack cleare before the Sun , The rudest Winds obey the calmest Ayre : Rare Plants from ev'ry banke doe rise , And ev'ry Plant the sense surprize , Because the order of the whole is faire ! The very verdure of her nest , Wherein she sits so richly drest , As all the wealth of Season , there was spread ; Doth show , the Graces , and the Houres Have multipli'd their arts , and powers , In making soft her aromatique bed . Such joyes , such sweet's doth your Returne Bring all your friends , ( faire Lord ) that burne With love , to heare your modestie relate , The bus'nesse of your blooming wit , With all the fruit shall follow it , Both to the honour of the King and State . O how will then our Court be pleas'd , To see great Charles of Travaile eas'd , When he beholds a graft of his owne hand , Shoot up an Olive fruitfull , faire , To be a shadow to his Heire , And both a strength , and Beautie to his Land !
EPITHALAMION ; OR , A SONG : CELEBRATING THE NVPTIALS OF THAT NOBLE Gentleman , Mr. HIEROME WESTON , Son , and Heire , of the Lord WESTON , Lord high Treasurer of England , with the Lady FRANCES STUART , Daughter of ESME D. of Lenox deceased , and Sister of the Surviving Duke of the same name . EPITHALAMION . THough thou hast past thy Summer standing , stay A-while with us bright Sun , and helpe our light ; Thou can'st not meet more Glory , on the way , Betweene thy Tropicks , to arrest thy sight , Then thou shalt see to day : We wooe thee , stay And see , what can be seene , The bountie of a King , and beautie of his Queene ! See the Procession ! what a Holy day ( Bearing the promise of some better fate ) Hath filed , with Cacoches , all the way , From Greenwich , hither , to Row-hampton gate ! When look'd the yeare , at best , So like a feast ? Or were Affaires in tune , By all the Spheares consent , so in the heart of June ? What Beautie of beauties , and bright youth's at charge Of Summers Liveries , and gladding greene ; Doe boast their Loves , and Brav'ries so at large , As they came all to see , and to be seene ! When look'd the Earth so fine , Or so did shine , In all her bloome , and flower ; To welcome home a Paire , and deck the nuptiall bower ? It is the kindly Season of the time , The Month of youth , which calls all Creatures forth To doe their Offices in Natures Chime , And celebrate ( perfection at the worth ) Mariage , the end of life , That holy strife , And the allowed warre : Through which not only we , but all our Species are . Harke how the Bells upon the waters play Their Sister-tunes , from Thames his either side , As they had learn'd new changes , for the day , And all did ring th' approches of the Bride ; The Lady Frances , drest Above the rest Of all the Maidens faire ; In gracefull Ornament of Garland , Gemmes , and Haire . See , how she paceth forth in Virgin-white , Like what she is , the Daughter of a Duke , And Sister : darting forth a dazling light On all that come her Simplésse to rebuke ! Her tresses trim her back , As she did lack Nought of a Maiden Queene , With Modestie so crown'd , and Adoration seene . Stay , thou wilt see what rites the Virgins doe ! The choisest Virgin-troup of all the Land ! Porting the Ensignes of united Two , Both Crownes , and Kingdomes in their either hand ; Whose Majesties appeare , To make more cleare This Feast , then can the Day Although that thou , O Sun , at our intreaty stay ! See , how with Roses , and with Lillies shine , ( Lillies and Roses , Flowers of either Sexe ) The bright Brides paths , embelish'd more then thine With light of love , this Paire doth intertexe ! Stay , see the Virgins sow , ( Where she shall goe ) The Emblemes of their way . O , now thou smil'st , faire Sun , and shin'st , as thou wouldst stay ! With what full hands , and in how plenteous showers Have they bedew'd the Earth , where she doth tread , As if her ayrie steps did spring the flowers , And all the Ground , were Garden , where she led ! See , at another doore , On the same floore , The Bridegroome meets the Bride With all the pompe of Youth , and all our Court beside . Our Court , and all the Grandees ; now , Sun , looke , And looking with thy best Inquirie , tell , In all thy age of Journals thou hast tooke , Saw'st thou that Paire , became these Rites so well , Save the preceding Two ? Who , in all they doe , Search , Sun , and thou wilt find They are th' exampled Paire , and mirrour of their kind . Force from the Phoenix then , no raritie Of Sex , to rob the Creature ; but from Man The king of Creatures ; take his paritie With Angels , Muse , to speake these : Nothing can Illustrate these , but they Themselves to day , Who the whole Act expresse ; All else we see beside , are Shadowes , and goe lesse . It is their Grace , and favour , that makes seene , And wonder'd at the bounties of this day : All is a story of the King and Queene ! And what of Dignitie , and Honour may Be duly done to those Whom they have chose , And set the marke upon To give a greater Name , and Title to ! Their owne ! Weston , their Treasure , as their Treasurer , That Mine of Wisdome , and of Counsells deep , Great Say-Master of State , who cannot erre , But doth his Carract , and just Standard keepe In all the prov'd assayes , And legall wayes Of Tryals , to worke downe Mens Loves unto the Lawes , and Lawes to love the Crowne . And this well mov'd the Judgement of the King To pay with honours , to his noble Sonne To day , the Fathers service ; who could bring Him up , to doe the same himselfe had done . That farre-all-seeing Eye Could soone espie What kind of waking Man He had so highly set ; and , in what Barbican . Stand there ; for when a noble Nature 's rais'd , It brings Friends Joy , Foes Griefe , Posteritie Fame ; In him the times , no lesse then Prince , are prais'd , And by his Rise , in active men , his Name Doth Emulation stirre ; To th' dull , a Spur It is : to th' envious meant , A meere upbraiding Griefe , and tort'ring punishment . See , now the Chappell opens ; where the King And Bishop stay , to consummate the Rites : The holy Prelate prayes , then takes the Ring , Askes first , Who gives her ( I Charles ) then he plights One in the others hand , Whilst they both stand Hearing their charge , and then The Solemne Quire cryes , Joy ; and they returne , Amen . O happy bands ! and thou more happy place , Which to this use , wer't built and consecrate ! To have thy God to blesse , thy King to grace , And this their chosen Bishop celebrate ; And knit the Nuptiall knot , Which Time shall not , Or canker'd Jealousie , With all corroding Arts , be able to untie ! The Chappell empties , and thou may'st be gone Now , Sun , and post away the rest of day : These two , now holy Church hath made them one , Doe long to make themselves , so , another way : There is a Feast behind , to them of kind , which their glad Parents taught One to the other , long e're these to light were brought . Haste , haste , officious Sun , and send them Night Some houres before it should , that these may know All that their Fathers , and their Mothers might Of Nuptiall Sweets , at such a season , owe , To propagate their Names , And keepe their Fames Alive , which else would die , For Fame keepes Vertue up , and it Posteritie . Th' Ignoble never liv'd , they were a-while Like Swine , or other Cattell here on earth : Their names are not recorded on the File Of Life , that fall so ; Christians know their birth . Alone , and such a race , We pray may grace , Your fruitfull spreading Vine , But dare , not aske our wish in Language fescennine : Yet , as we may , we will , with chast desires , ( The holy perfumes of the Mariage bed . ) Be kept alive , those Sweet , and Sacred fires Of Love betweene you , and your Lovely-head : That when you both are old , You find no cold There ; but , renewed , say , ( After the last child borne ; ) This is our wedding day . Till you behold a race to fill your Hall , A Richard , and a Hierome , by their names Upon a Thomas , or a Francis call ; A Kate , a Frank , to honour their Grand-dames , And 'tweene their Grandsires thighes , Like pretty Spies , Peepe forth a Gemme ; to see How each one playes his part , of the large Pedigree . And never may there want one of the Stem , To be a watchfull Servant for this State ; But like an Arme of Eminence 'mongst them , Extend a reaching vertue , early and late : Whilst the maine tree still found Upright and sound , By this Sun's Noone sted 's made So great ; his Body now alone projects the shade . They both are slip'd to Bed ; Shut fast the Doore , And let him freely gather Loves First-fruits , Hee 's Master of the Office ; yet no more Exacts then she is pleas'd to pay : no suits Strifes , murmures , or delay , Will last till day ; Night , and the sheetes will show , The longing Couple , all that elder Lovers know .
The humble Petition of poore Ben. To th' best of Monarchs , Masters , Men , King CHARLES . — Doth most humbly show it , To your Majestie your Poët : THat whereas your royall Father JAMES the blessed , pleas'd the rather , Of his speciall grace to Letters , To make all the MUSES debters To his bountie ; by extension Of a free Poëtique Pension , A large hundred Markes annuitie , To be given me in gratuitie For done service , and to come : And that this so accepted summe , Or dispenc'd in bookes , or bread , ( For with both the MUSE was fed ) Hath drawne on me , from the times , All the envie of the Rymes , And the ratling pit-pat-noyse , Of the lesse - Poëtique boyes ; When their pot-guns ayme to hit , With their pellets of small wit , Parts of me ( they judg'd ) decay'd , But we last out , still unlay'd . Please your Majestie to make Of your grace , for goodnesse sake , Those your Fathers Markes , your Pounds ; Let their spite ( which now abounds ) Then goe on , and doe its worst ; This would all their envie burst : And so warme the Poëts tongue You 'ld reade a Snake , in his next Song .
To the right Honourable , the Lord Treasurer of England . An Epigram . IF to my mind , great Lord , I had a state , I would present you now with curious plate Of Noremberg , or Turkie ; hang your roomes Not with the Arras , but the Persian Loomes . I would , if price , or prayer could them get , Send in , what or Romano , Tintaret , Titian , or Raphael , Michael Angelo Have left in fame to equall , or out-goe The old Greek-hands in picture , or in stone . This I would doe , could I know Weston , one Catch'd with these Arts , wherein the Judge is wise As farre as sense , and onely by the eyes . But you , I know , my Lord ; and know you can Discerne betweene a Statue , and a Man ; Can doe the things that Statues doe deserve , And act the businesse , which they paint , or carve . What you have studied are the arts of life ; To compose men , and manners ; stint the strife Of murmuring Subjects ; make the Nations know What worlds of blessings to good Kings they owe. And mightiest Monarchs feele what large increase Of sweets , and safeties , they possesse by Peace . These I looke up at , with a reverent eye , And strike Religion in the standers-by ; Which , though I cannot as an Architect In glorious Piles , or Pyramids erect Unto your honour : I can tune in song Aloud ; and ( happ'ly ) it may last as long .
An Epigram To my MVSE , the Lady Digby , on her Husband , Sir KENELME DIGBY . THO' , happy Muse , thou know my Digby well ; Yet read him in these lines : He doth excell In honour , courtesie , and all the parts Court can call hers , or Man could call his Arts. Hee 's prudent , valiant , just , and temperate ; In him all vertue is beheld in State : And he is built like some imperiall roome For that to dwell in , and be still at home . His brest is a brave Palace , a broad Street Where all heroique ample thoughts doe meet : Where Nature such a large survey hath ta'en , As other soules to his dwelt in a Lane : Witnesse his Action done at Scanderone ; Upon my Birth-day the eleventh of June ; When the Apostle Barnabee the bright Unto our yeare doth give the longest light , In signe the Subject , and the Song will live Which I have vow'd posteritie to give . Goe , Muse , in , and salute him . Say he be Busie , or frowne at first ; when he sees thee , He will cleare up his forehead : thinke thou bring'st Good Omen to him , in the note thou sing'st , For he doth love my Verses , and will looke Upon them , ( next to Spenser's noble booke . ) And praise them too . O! what a fame 't will be ? What reputation to my lines , and me , When hee shall read them at the Treasurers bord ? The knowing Weston , and that learned Lord Allowes them ? Then , what copies shall be had , What transcripts begg'd ? how cry'd up , and how glad , Wilt thou be , Muse , when this shall them befall ? Being sent to one , they will be read of all .
NEw yeares , expect new gifts : Sister , your Harpe , Lute , Lyre , Theorbo , all are call'd to day . Your change of Notes , the flat , the meane , the sharpe , To shew the rites , and t' usher forth the way Of the New Yeare , in a new silken warpe . To fit the softnesse of our Yeares-gift : When We sing the best of Monarchs , Masters , Men ; For , had we here said lesse , we had sung nothing then .
A New-yeares-Gift sung to King CHARLES , 1635. Rector Chori . TO day old Janus opens the new yeare , And shuts the old . Haste , haste , all loyall Swaines , That know the times , and seasons when t' appeare , And offer your just service on these plaines ; Best Kings expect first-fruits of your glad gaines . 1. PAN is the great Preserver of our bounds . 2. To him we owe all profits of our grounds . 3. Our milke . 4. Our fells . 5. Our fleeces . 6. and first Lambs . 7. Our teeming Ewes , 8. and lustie-mounting Rammes . 9. See where he walkes with MIRA by his side . Chor. Sound , sound his praises loud , and with his , hers divide . Shep. Chor. Of PAN wee sing , the best of Hunters , PAN , That drives the Hart to seeke unused wayes , And in the chase , more then SYLVANUS can , Heare , ô you Groves , and , Hills , resound his praise . Nym. Chor. Of brightest MIRA , doe we raise our Song , Sister of PAN , and glory of the Spring : Who walkes on Earth as May still went along , Rivers , and Vallies , Eccho what wee sing . Shep. Chor. Of PAN wee sing , the Chiefe of Leaders , PAN , That leades our flocks and us , and calls both forth To better Pastures then great PALES can : Heare , O you Groves , and , Hills , resound his worth . Nymp. Chor. Of brightest MIRA , is our Song ; the grace Of all that Nature , yet , to life did bring ; And were shee lost , could best supply her place , Rivers , and Valleys Eccho what wee sing . 1. Where ere they treadth ' enamour'd ground , The Fairest flowers are alwayes found ; 2. As if the beauties of the yeare , Still waited on 'hem where they were . 1. Hee is the Father of our peace ; 2. Shee , to the Crowne , hath brought encrease . 1. Wee know no other power then his , PAN only our great Shep'ard is , Chorus . Our great , our good . Where one's so drest In truth of colours , both are best . Haste , haste you hither , all you gentler Swaines , That have a Flock , or Herd , upon these plaines ; This is the great Preserver of our bounds , To whom you owe all duties of your grounds ; Your Milkes , your Fells , your Fleeces , and first Lambes , Your teeming Ewes , aswell as mounting Rammes . Whose praises let 's report unto the Woods , That they may take it eccho'd by the Floods . 'T is hee , 't is hee , in singing hee , And hunting , PAN , exceedeth thee . Hee gives all plentie , and encrease , Hee is the author of our peace . Where e're he goes upon the ground , The better grasse , and flowers are found . To sweeter Pastures lead hee can , Then ever PALES could , or PAN ; Hee drives diseases from our Folds , The theefe from spoyle , his presence holds . PAN knowes no other power then his , This only the great Shep'ard is . ‛ This hee , 't is hee , &c. Faire Friend , 't is true , your beauties move My heart to a respect : Too little to bee paid with love , Too great for your neglect . I neither love , nor yet am free , For though the flame I find Be not intense in the degree , 'T is of the purest kind . It little wants of love , but paine , Your beautie takes my sense , And lest you should that price disdaine , My thoughts , too , feele the influence . 'T is not a passions first accesse Readie to multiply , But like Loves calmest State it is Possest with victorie . It is like Love to Truth reduc'd All the false value's gone , Which were created , and induc'd By fond imagination . 'T is either Fancie , or 't is Fate , To love you more then I ; I love you at your beauties rate , Lesse were an Injurie . Like unstamp'd Gold , I weigh each grace , So that you may collect , Th' intrinsique value of your face , Safely from my respect . And this respect would merit love , Were not so faire a sight Payment enough ; for , who dare move Reward for his delight ?
On the Kings Birth-day . ROwse up thy selfe , my gentle Muse , Though now our greene conceits be gray , And yet once more doe not refuse To take thy Phrygian Harp , and play In honour of this cheerefull Day : Long may they both contend to prove , That best of Crownes is such a love . Make first a Song of Joy , and Love , Which chastly flames in royall eyes , Then tune it to the Spheares above , When the benignest Stars doe rise , And sweet Conjunctions grace the skies . Long may , &c. To this let all good hearts resound , Whilst Diadems invest his head ; Long may he live , whose life doth bound More then his Lawes , and better led By high Example , then by dread . Long may , &c. Long may he round about him see His Roses , and his Lillies blowne : Long may his only Deare , and Hee Joy in Ideas of their owne , And Kingdomes hopes so timely sowne . Long may they both contend to prove , That best of Crownes is such a love .
To my L. the King , On the Christning His second Sonne IAMES . THat thou art lov'd of God , this worke is done , Great King , thy having of a second Sonne : And by thy blessing , may thy People see How much they are belov'd of God , in thee ; Would they would understand it ! Princes are Great aides to Empire , as they are great care To pious Parents , who would have their blood Should take first Seisin of the publique good , As hath thy JAMES ; cleans'd from originall drosse , This day , by Baptisme , and his Saviours crosse : Grow up , sweet Babe , as blessed , in thy Name , As in renewing thy good Grandsires fame ; Me thought , Great Brittaine in her Sea , before , Sate safe enough , but now secured more . At land she triumphs in the triple shade , Her Rose , and Lilly , intertwind , have made . Oceano secura meo , securior umbris .
An Elegie On the Lady ANNE PAWLET , Marchion : of Winton . WHat gentle Ghost , besprent with April deaw , Hayles me , so solemnly , to yonder Yewgh ? And beckning wooes me , from the fatall tree To pluck a Garland , for her selfe , or mee ? I doe obey you , Beautie ! for in death , You seeme a faire one ! O that you had breath , To give your shade a name ! Stay , stay , I feele A horrour in mee ! all my blood is steele ! Stiffe ! starke ! my joynts 'gainst one another knock ! Whose Daughter ? ha ? Great Savage of the Rock ? Hee 's good , as great . I am almost a stone ! And e're I can aske more of her shee 's gone ! Alas , I am all Marble ! write the rest Thou wouldst have written , Fame , upon my brest : It is a large faire table , and a true , And the disposure will be something new , When I , who would the Poët have become , At least may beare th' inscription to her Tombe . Shee was the Lady Jane , and Marchionisse Of Winchester ; the Heralds can tell this . Earle Rivers Grand-Child — serve not formes , good Fame , Sound thou her Vertues , give her soule a Name . Had I a thousand Mouthes , as many Tongues , And voyce to raise them from my brazen Lungs , I durst not aime at that : The dotes were such Thereof , no notion can expresse how much Their Carract was ! I , or my trump must breake , But rather I , should I of that part speake ! It is too neere of kin to Heaven , the Soule , To be describ'd ! Fames fingers are too foule To touch these Mysteries ! We may admire The blaze , and splendor , but not handle fire ! What she did here , by great example , well , t' inlive posteritie , her Fame may tell ! And , calling truth to witnesse , make that good From the inherent Graces in her blood ! Else , who doth praise a person by a new , But a fain'd way , doth rob it of the true . Her Sweetnesse , Softnesse , her faire Courtesie , Her wary guardes , her wise simplicitie , Were like a ring of Vertues , 'bout her set , And pietie the Center , where all met . A reverend State she had , an awfull Eye , A dazling , yet inviting , Majestie : What Nature , Fortune , Institution , Fact Could summe to a perfection , was her Act ! How did she leave the world ? with what contempt ▪ Just as she in it liv'd ! and so exempt From all affection ! when they urg'd the Cure Of her disease , how did her soule assure Her suffrings , as the body had beene away ! And to the Torturers ( her Doctors ) say , Stick on your Cupping-glasses , feare not , put Your hottest Causticks to , burne , lance , or cut : 'T is but a body which you can torment , And I , into the world , all Soule , was sent ! Then comforted her Lord ! and blest her Sonne ! Chear'd her faire Sisters in her race to runne ! With gladnesse temper'd her sad Parents teares ! Made her friends joyes , to get above their feares ! And , in her last act , taught the Standers-by , With admiration , and applause to die ! Let Angels sing her glories , who did call Her spirit home , to her originall ! Who saw the way was made it ! and were sent To carry , and conduct the Complement 'Twixt death and life ! Where her mortalitie Became her Birth-day to Eternitie ! And now , through circumfused light , she lookes On Natures secrets , there , as her owne bookes : Speakes Heavens Language ! and discovereth free To every Order , ev'ry Hierarchie ! Beholds her Maker ! and , in him , doth see What the beginnings of all beauties be ; And all beatitudes , that thence doe flow : Which they that have the Crowne are sure to know ! Goe now , her happy Parents , and be sad If you not understand , what Child you had . If you dare grudge at Heaven , and repent T' have paid againe a blessing was but lent , And trusted so , as it deposited lay At pleasure , to be call'd for , every day ! If you can envie your owne Daughters blisse , And wish her state lesse happie then it is ! If you can cast about your either eye , And see all dead here , or about to dye ! The Starres , that are the Jewels of the Night , And Day , deceasing ! with the Prince of light , The Sunne ! great Kings ! and mightiest Kingdomes fall ! Whole Nations ! nay Mankind ! the World , with all That ever had beginning there , t o'ave end ! With what injustice should one soule pretend T' esape this common knowne necessitie , When we were all borne , we began to die ; And , but for that Contention , and brave strife The Christian hath t' enjoy the future life , Hee were the wretched'st of the race of men : But as he soares at that , he bruiseth then The Serpents head : Gets above Death , and Sinne , And , sure of Heaven , rides triumphing in .
EUPHEME ; OR , THE FAIRE FAME . LEFT TO POSTERITIE Of that truly-noble Lady , the Lady VENETIA DIGBY , late Wife of Sir KENELME DIGBY , Knight : A Gentleman absolute in all Numbers ; Consisting of these Ten Pieces . The Dedication of her CRADLE . The Song of her DESCENT . The Picture of her BODY . Her MIND . Her being chosen a MUSE . Her faire OFFICES . Her happie MATCH . Her hopefull ISSUE . Her 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , or Relation to the Saints . Her Inscription , or CROWNE . Vivam amare voluptas , defunctam Religio . Stat.
1. The Dedication of her CRADLE . FAire FAME , who art ordain'd to crowne With ever-greene , and great renowne , Their Heads , that ENVY would hold downe With her , in shade Of Death , and Darknesse ; and deprive Their names of being kept alive , By THEE , and CONSCIENCE , both who thrive By the just trade Of Goodnesse still : Vouchsafe to take This CRADLE , and for Goodnesse sake , A dedicated Ensigne make Thereof , to TIME . That all Posteritie , as wee , Who read what the CREPUNDIA bee , May something by that twilight see 'Bove rattling Rime . For , though that Rattles , Timbrels , Toyes , Take little Infants with their noyse , As prop'rest gifts , to Girles , and Boyes Of light expence ; Their Corrals , Whistles , and prime Coates , Their painted Maskes , their paper Boates , With Sayles of silke , as the first notes Surprize their sense : Yet , here are no such Trifles brought , No cobweb Call's ; no Surcoates wrought With Gold , or Claspes , which might be bought On every Stall . But , here 's a Song of her DESCENT ; And Call to the high Parliament Of Heaven ; where SERAPHIM take tent Of ord'ring all . This , utter'd by an antient BARD , Who claimes ( of reverence ) to be heard , As comming with his Harpe , prepar'd To chant her 'gree , Is sung : as als' her getting up By JACOBS Ladder , to the top Of that eternall Port kept ope ' For such as SHEE .
2. The Song of her DESCENT . I Sing the just , and uncontrol'd Descent Of Dame VENETIA DIGBY , styl'd The Faire : For Mind , and Body , the most excellent That ever Nature , or the later Ayre Gave two such Houses as NORTHUMBERLAND , And STANLEY , to the which shee was Co-heire . Speake it , you bold PENATES , you that stand At either Stemme , and know the veines of good Run from your rootes ; Tell , testifie the grand Meeting of Graces , that so swell'd the flood Of vertues in her , as , in short , shee grew The wonder of her Sexe , and of your Blood . And tell thou , ALDE-LEGH , None can tell more true Thy Neeces line , then thou that gav'st thy Name Into the Kindred , whence thy Adam drew Meschines honour with the Cestrian fame Of the first Lupus , to the Familie By Ranulph — The rest of this Song is lost .
3. The Picture of the BODY . SItting , and ready to be drawne , What makes these Velvets , Silkes , and Lawne , Embroderies , Feathers , Fringes , Lace , Where every lim takes like a face ? Send these suspected helpes , to aide Some Forme defective , or decay'd ; This beautie without falshood fayre , Needs nought to cloath it but the ayre . Yet something , to the Painters view , Were fitly interpos'd ; so new : Hee shall , if he can understand , Worke with my fancie , his owne hand . Draw first a Cloud : all save her neck ; And , out of that , make Day to breake ; Till , like her face , it doe appeare , And Men may thinke , all light rose there . Then let the beames of that , disperse The Cloud , and show the Universe ; But at such distance , as the eye May rather yet adore , then spy . The Heaven design'd , draw next a Spring , With all that Youth , or it can bring : Foure Rivers branching forth like Seas , And Paradise confining these . Last , draw the circles of this Globe , And let there be a starry Robe Of Constellations 'bout her horld ; And thou hast painted beauties world . But , Painter , see thou doe not sell A Copie of this peece ; nor tell Whose 't is : but if it favour find , Next sitting we will draw her mind .
4. The MIND . PAinter yo' are come , but may be gone , Now I have better thought thereon , This worke I can performe alone ; And give you reasons more then one . Not , that your Art I doe refuse : But here I may no colours use . Beside , your hand will never hit , To draw a thing that cannot sit . You could make shift to paint an Eye , An Eagle towring in the skye , The Sunne , a Sea , or soundlesse Pit ; But these are like a Mind , not it . No , to expresse a Mind to sense , Would aske a Heavens Intelligence ; Since nothing can report that flame , But what 's of kinne to whence it came . Sweet Mind , then speake your selfe , and say , As you goe on , by what brave way Our sense you doe with knowledge fill , And yet remaine our wonder still . I call you Muse ; now make it true : Hence-forth may every line be you ; That all may say , that see the frame , This is no Picture , but the same . A Mind so pure , so perfect fine , As 't is not radiant , but divine : And so disdaining any tryer ; 'T is got where it can try the fire . There , high exalted in the Spheare , As it another Nature were , It moveth all ; and makes a flight As circular , as infinite . Whose Notions when it will expresse In speech ; it is with that excesse Of grace , and Musique to the eare , As what it spoke , it planted there . The Voyce so sweet , the words so faire , As some soft chime had stroak'd the ayre ; And , though the sound were parted thence , Still left an Eccho in the sense . But , that a Mind so rapt , so high , So swift , so pure , should yet apply It selfe to us , and come so nigh Earths grossnesse ; There 's the how , and why . Is it because it sees us dull , And stuck in clay here , it would pull Us forth , by some Celestiall slight Up to her owne sublimed hight ? Or hath she here , upon the ground , Some Paradise , or Palace found In all the bounds of beautie fit For her t' inhabit ? There is it . Thrice happy house , that hast receipt For this so loftie forme , so streight , So polisht , perfect , round , and even , As it slid moulded off from Heaven . Not swelling like the Ocean proud , But stooping gently , as a Cloud , As smooth as Oyle pour'd forth , and calme As showers ; and sweet as drops of Balme . Smooth , soft , and sweet , in all a floud Where it may run to any good ; And where it stayes , it there becomes A nest of odorous spice , and gummes . In action , winged as the wind , In rest , like spirits left behind Upon a banke , or field of flowers , Begotten by that wind , and showers . In thee , faire Mansion , let it rest , Yet know , with what thou art possest , Thou entertaining in thy brest , But such a Mind , mak'st God thy Guest .

A whole quaternion in the middest of this Poem is lost , containing entirely the three next pieces of it , and all of the fourth ( which in the order of the whole , is the eighth ) excepting the very end : which at the top of the next quaternion goeth on thus :

BUt , for you ( growing Gentlemen ) the happy branches of two so illustrious Houses as these , where from your honour'd Mother , is in both lines descended ; let me leave you this last Legacie of Counsell ; which so soone as you arrive at yeares of mature Understanding , open you ( Sir ) that are the eldest , and read it to your Brethren , for it will concerne you all alike . Vowed by a faithfull Servant , and Client of your Familie , with his latest breath expiring it B.I.

TO KENELME , IOHN , GEORGE . BOast not these Titles of your Ancestors ; ( Brave Youths ) th' are their possessions , none of yours : When your owne Vertues , equall'd have their Names , 'T will be but faire , to leane upon their Fames ; For they are strong Supporters : But , till then , The greatest are but growing Gentlemen . It is a wretched thing to trust to reedes ; Which all men doe , that urge not their owne deeds Up to their Ancestors ; the rivers side , By which yo' are planted , shew's your fruit shall bide : Hang all your roomes , with one large Pedigree : 'T is Vertue alone , is true Nobilitie . Which Vertue from your Father , ripe , will fall ; Study illustrious Him , and you have all .
9. Elegie on my Muse . THe truly honoured Lady , the Lady VENETIA DIGBY ; who living , gave me leave to call her so . Being Her 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , or Relation to the Saints . Sera quidem tanto struitur medicina dolori . An Elegie on my Muse . 't were time that I ty'd too , now shee is dead , Who was my Muse , and life of all I dy'd . The Spirit that I wrote with , and conceiv'd , All that was good , or great in me she weav'd , And set it forth ; the rest were Cobwebs fine , Spun out in name of some of the old Nine ! To hang a window , or make darke the roome , Till swept away , th' were cancell'd with a broome ! Nothing , that could remaine , or yet can stirre A sorrow in me , fit to wait to her ! O! had I seene her laid out a faite Corse , By Death , on Earth , I should have had remorse On Nature , for her : who did let her lie , And saw that portion of her selfe to die . Sleepie , or stupid Nature , couldst thou part With such a Raritie , and not rowse Art With all her aydes , to save her from the seize Of Vulture death , and those relentlesse cleies ? Thou wouldst have lost the Phoenix , had the kind Beene trusted to thee : not to 't selfe assign'd . Looke on thy sloth , and give thy selfe undone , ( For so thou art with me ) now shee is gone . My wounded mind cannot sustaine this stroke , It rages , runs , flies , stands , and would provoke The world to ruine with it ; in her Fall , I summe up mine owne breaking , and wish all . Thou hast no more blowes , Fate , to drive at one , What 's left a Poët , when his Muse is gone ? Sure , I am dead , and know it not ! I feele Nothing I doe ; but , like a heavie wheele , Am turned with an others powers . My Passion Whoorles me about , and to blaspheme in fashion ! I murmure against God , for having ta'en Her blessed Soule , hence , forth this valley vane Of teares , and dungeon of calamitie ! I envie it the Angels amitie ! The joy of Saints ! the Crowne for which it lives , The glorie , and gaine of rest , which the place gives ! Dare I prophane , so irreligious bee To ' greet , or grieve her soft Euthanasee ! So sweetly taken to the Court of blisse , As spirits had stolne her Spirit , in a kisse , From off her pillow , and deluded bed ; And left her lovely body unthought dead ! Indeed , she is not dead ! but laid to sleepe In earth , till tht last Trumpe awake the sheepe And Goates together , whither they must come To heare their Judge , and his eternall doome . To have that finall retribution , Expected with the fleshes restitution . For , as there are three Natures , Schoolemen call One corporall , only ; th' other spirituall , Like single ; so , there is a third , commixt , Of Body and Spirit together , plac'd betwixt Those other two ; which must be judg'd , or crown'd : This as it guilty is , or guiltlesse found , Must come to take a sentence , by the sense Of that great Evidence , the Conscience ! Who will be there , against that day prepar'd , T' accuse , or quit all Parties to be heard ! O Day of joy , and suretie to the just ! Who in that feast of Resurrection trust ! That great eternall Holy-day of rest , To Body , and Soule ! where Love is all the guest ! And the whole Banquet is full sight of God! Of joy the Circle , and sole Period ! All other gladnesse , with the thought is barr'd ; Hope , hath her end ! and Faith hath her reward ! This being thus : why should my tongue , or pen Presume to interpell that fulnesse , when Nothing can more adorne it , then the seat That she is in , or , make it more compleat ? Better be dumbe , then superstitious ! Who violates the God-head , is most vitious Against the Nature he would worship . Hee Will honour'd be in all simplicitie ! Have all his actions , wondred at , and view'd With silence , and amazement ! not with rude , Dull , and prophane , weake , and imperfect eyes , Have busie search made in his mysteries ! Hee knowes , what worke h' hath done , to call this Guest , Out of her noble body , to this Feast : And give her place , according to her blood Amongst her Peeres , those Princes of all good ! Saints , Martyrs , Prophets , with those Hierarchies , Angels , Arch-angels , Principalities , The Dominations , Vertues , and the Powers , The Thrones , the Cherube , and Seraphick bowers , That , planted round , there sing before the Lamb , A new Song to his praise , and great I AM : And she doth know , out of the shade of Death , What 't is t' enjoy , an everlasting breath ! To have her captiv'd spirit freed from flesh , And on her Innocence , a garment fresh And white , as that , put on : and in her hand With boughs of Palme , a crowned Victrice stand ▪ And will you , worthy Sonne , Sir , knowing this , Put black , and mourning on ? and say you misse A Wife , a Friend , a Lady , or a Love ; Whom her Redeemer , honour'd hath above Her fellowes , with the oyle of gladnesse , bright In heaven Empyre , and with a robe of light ? Thither , you hope to come ; and there to find That pure , that pretious , and exalted mind You once enjoy'd : A short space severs yee , Compar'd unto that long eternitie , That shall re-joyne yee . Was she , then , so deare , When shee departed ? you will meet her there , Much more desir'd , and dearer then before , By all the wealth of blessings , and the store Accumulated on her , by the Lord Of life , and light , the Sonne of God , the Word ! There , all the happy soules , that ever were , Shall meet with gladnesse in one Theatre ; And each shall know , there , one anothers face : By beatifick vertue of the Place . There shall the Brother , with the Sister walke , And Sons , and Daughters , with their Parents talke ; But all of God ; They still shall have to say , But make him All in All , their Theme , that Day : That happy Day , that never shall see night ! Where Hee will be , all Beautie to the Sight ; Wine , or delicious fruits , unto tee Taste ; A Musique in the Eares , will ever last ; Unto the Sent , a Spicerie , or Balme ; And to the Touch , a Flower , like soft as Palme . Hee will all Glory , all Perfection be , God , in the Union , and the Trinitie ! That holy , great , and glorious Mysterie , Will there revealed be in Majestie ! By light , and comfort of spirituall Grace ; The vision of our Saviour , face , to face In his humanitie ! To heare him preach The price of our Redemption , and to teach Through his inherent righteousnesse , in death , The safetie of our soules , and forfeit breath ! What fulnesse of beatitude is here ? What love with mercy mixed doth appeare ? To style us Friends , who were , by Nature , Foes ? Adopt us Heires , by grace , who were of those Had lost our selves ? and prodigally spent Our native portions , and possessed rent : Yet have all debts forgiven us , and advance B' imputed right to an inheritance In his eternall Kingdome , where we sit Equall with Angels , and Co-heires of it . Nor dare we under blasphemy conceive He that shall be our supreme Judge , should leave Himselfe so un-inform'd of his elect Who knowes the hearts of-all , and can dissect The smallest Fibre of our flesh ; he can Find all our Atomes from a point t' a span ! Our closest Creekes , and Corners , and can trace Each line , as it were graphick , in the face . And best he knew her noble Character , For 't was himselfe who form'd , and gave it her . And to that forme , lent two such veines of blood As nature could not more increase the flood Of title in her ! All nobilitie ( But pride , that schisme of incivilitie ) She had , and it became her ! she was fit T' have knowne no envy , but by suffring it ! She had a mind as calme , as she was faire ; Not tost or troubled with light Lady-aire ; But , kept an even gate , as some streight tree Mov'd by the wind , so comely moved she . And by the awfull manage of her Eye She swaid all bus'nesse in the Familie ! To one she said , Doe this , he did it ; So To another , Move ; he went ; To a third , Go , He run ; and all did strive with diligence T' obey , and serve her sweet Commandements . She was in one , a many parts of life ; A tender Mother , a discreeter Wife , A solemne Mistresse , and so good a Fried , So charitable , to religious end In all her petite actions , so devote , As her whole life was now become one note Of Pietie , and private holinesse . She spent more time in teares her selfe to dresse For her devotions , and those sad essayes Of sorrow , then all pompe of gaudy daies : And came forth ever cheered , with the rod Of divine Comfort , when sh' had talk'd with God . Her broken sighes did never misse whole sense : Nor can the bruised heart want eloquence : For , Prayer is the Incense most perfumes The holy Altars , when it least presumes . And hers were all Humilitie ! they beat The doore of Grace , and found the Mercy-Seat . In frequent speaking by the pious Psalmes Her solemne houres she spent , or giving Almes , Or doing other deeds of Charitie , To cloath the naked , feed the hungry . Shee Would sit in an Infirmer , whole dayes Poring , as on a Map , to find the wayes To that eternall Rest , where now sh' hath place By sure Election , and predestin'd grace ! Shee saw her Saviour , by an early light , Incarnate in the Manger ; shining bright On all the world ! Shee saw him on the Crosse Suffring , and dying to redeeme our losse ! Shee saw him rise , triumphing over Death To justifie , and quicken us in breath ! Shee saw him too , in glory to ascend For his designed worke the perfect end Of raising , judging , and rewarding all The kind of Man , on whom his doome should fall ! All this by Faith she saw , and fram'd a Plea , In manner of a daily Apostrophe , To him should be her Judge , true God , true Man , Jesus , the onely gotten Christ ! who can As being Redeemer , and Repairer too ( Of lapsed Nature ) best know what to doe , In that great Act of judgment : which the Father Hath given wholly to the Sonne ( the rather As being the Sonne of Man ) to shew his Power , His Wisdome , and his Justice , in that houre , The last of houres , and shutter up of all , Where first his Power will appeare , by call Of all are dead to life ! His Wisdome show In the discerning of each conscience , so ! And most his Justice , in the fitting parts , And giving dues to all Mankinds deserts ! In this sweet Extasie , she was rapt hence . Who reades , will pardon my Intelligence , That thus have ventur'd these true straines upon ; To publish her a Saint . My Muse is gone . In pietatis memoriam quam praestas Venetiae tuae illustrissim : Marit : dign : Digbeie Hanc 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , tibi , tuisque sacro .

The Tenth , being her Inscription , or CROWNE , is lost .

Vitae Rusticae Laudes . BEatus ille , qui procul negotiis , Ut prisca gens mortalium , Paterna rura bobus exercet suis , Solutus omni foenore : Nec excitatur classico miles truci , Nec horret Iratum mare : Forumque vitat , & superba Civium Potentiorum limina . Ergo aut adultâ vitium propagine Altas maritat Populos : Aut in reducta valle mugientium Prospectat erranteis Greges : Inutileisque falce ramos amputans , Foeliciores inserit : Aut pressa puris mella condit amphoris , Aut tondet infirmis Oveis : Vel cum decorum mitibus pomis caput Autumnus arvis extulit : Ut gaudet insitiva decerpens pyra , Certantem & uvam Purpurae , Quâ muneretur te , Priape , & te , Pater Sylvane , tutor finium ! Libet jacere modò sub antiqua Ilice : Modò in tenaci gramine . Labuntur altis interim ripis aquae : Queruntur in Sylvis aves , Fontesque Lymphis obstrepunt manantibus , Somnos quod invitet leveis . At cum tonantis annus hibernus Jovis Imbreis niveisque comparat ; Aut trudit acreis hinc , & hinc multâ cane Apros in obstanteis plagas : Aut amite levi rara tendit retia ; Turdis edacibus dolos , Pavidumque leporem , & advenam laqueo gruem Jucunda captat proemia : Quis non malorum , quas amor curas habet Haec inter obliviscitur ? Quôd si pudica Mulier in partem juvet Domum , atque dulces liberos , ( Sabina qualis , aut perusta solibus Pernicis uxor Appuli Sacrum vetustis extruit lignis focum Lassi sub adventum viri ) Claudensque textis cratibus laetum pecus Distenta siccet ubera ;
The praises of a Countrie life . HAppie is he , that from all Businesse cleere ; As the old race of Mankind were , With his owne Oxen tills his Sires left lands , And is not in the Usurers bands : Nor Souldier-like started with rough alarmes , Nor dreads the Seas inraged harmes : But flees the Barre and Courts , with the proud bords , And waiting Chambers of great Lords . The Poplar tall , he then doth marrying twine With the growne issue of the Vine ; And with his hooke lops off the fruitlesse race , And sets more happy in the place : Or in the bending Vale beholds a-farre The lowing herds there grazing are : Or the prest honey in pure pots doth keepe Of Earth , and sheares the tender Sheepe : Or when that Autumne , through the fields lifts round His head , with mellow Apples crown'd , How plucking Peares , his owne hand grafted had , And purple-matching Grapes , hee 's glad ! With which , Priapus , he may thanke thy hands , And , Sylvane , thine that keptst his Lands ! Then now beneath some ancient Oke he may Now in the rooted Grasse him lay , Whilst from the higher Bankes doe slide the floods ? The soft birds quarrell in the Woods , The Fountaines murmure as the streames doe creepe , And all invite to easie sleepe . Then when the thundring Jove , his Snow and showres Are gathering by the Wintry houres ; Or hence , or thence , he drives with many a Hound Wild Bores into his toyles pitch'd round : Or straines on his small forke his subtill nets Forth ' eating Thrush , or Pit-falls sets : And snares the fearfull Hare , and new-come Crane , And ' counts them sweet rewards so ta'en . Who ( amongst these delights ) would not forget Loves cares so evill , and so great ? But if , to boot with these , a chaste Wife meet For houshold aid , and Children sweet ; Such as the Sabines , or a Sun-burnt-blowse , Some lustie quick Apulians spouse , To deck the hallow'd Harth with old wood fir'd Against the Husband comes home tir'd ; That penning the glad flock in hurdles by Their swelling udders doth draw dry : Et horna dulci Vina promens dolio Dapes inemptas apparet ; Non me Lucrina juverint Conchylia , Magisve Rhombus , aut Scari , Si quos Eois intonata fluctibus Hiems ad hoc vertat Mare : Non Afra avis descendat in ventrem meum : Non Attagen Ionicus Jucundior , quam lecta de pinguissimis Oliva ramis arborum : Aut herba Lapathi prata amantis , & gravi Malvae salubres corpori : Vel Agna festis caesa Terminalibus : Vel Hoedus ereptus Lupo . Has inter epulas , ut juvat pastas Oveis Videre properanteis domum ! Videre fessos vomerem inversum Boves Collo trahenteis languido ; Positosque vernas , ditis examen domus , Circum renidenteis Lareis ! Haec ubi locutus foenerator Alphius , Jam jam futurus rusticus , Omnem relegit Idibus pecuniam , Quaerit Calendis ponere .
Ode 1. Lib. quarto . Ad Venerem . INtermissa Venus diu , Rursus bella moves : parce precor , precor , Non sum qualis eram bonae Sub regno Cynarae : desine , dulcium Mater saeva Cupidinum , Circa lustra decem flectere Mollibus Jam durum imperiis : abi Quò blandae Juvenum te revocant preces . Tempestivius in domo Pauli purpureis ales oloribus , Comessabere Maximi , Si torrere jecur quaeris Idoneum . Namque & nobilis , & decens , Et pro sollicitis non tacitus reis . Et centum puer Artium , Latè Signa feret militiae tuae . Et quandoque potentior Largis muneribus riserit amuti , Albanos prope te lacus Ponet marmoream sub trabe Cyprea . And from the sweet Tub Wine of this yeare takes , And unbought viands ready makes : Not Lucrine Oysters I could then more prize , Nor Turbot , nor bright Golden eyes If with bright floods , the Winter troubled much , Into our Seas send any such : Th' Ionian God-wit , nor the Ginny hen Could not goe downe my belly then More sweet then Olives , that new gather'd be From fattest branches of the Tree : Or the herb Sorrell , that loves Meadows still , Or Mallowes loosing bodyes ill : Or at the Feast of Bounds , the Lambe then slaine , Or Kid forc't from the Wolfe againe . Among these Cates how glad the sight doth come Of the fed flocks approaching home ! To view the weary Oxen draw , with bare And fainting necks , the turned Share ! The wealthy houshold swarme of bondmen met , And 'bout the steeming Chimney set ! These thoughts when Usurer Alphius , now about To turne more farmer , had spoke out 'Gainst th' Ides , his moneys he gets in with paine , At th' Calends , puts all out againe .
Ode the first . The fourth Booke . To Venus . VEnus againe thou mov'st a warre Long intermitted , pray thee , pray thee spare : I am not such , as in the Reigne Of the good Cynara I was : Refraine , Sower Mother of sweet Loves , forbeare To bend a man now at his fiftieth yeare Too stubborne for Commands , so slack : Goe where Youths soft intreaties call thee back . More timely hie thee to the house , With thy bright Swans of Paulus Maximus : There jest , and feast , make him thine host , If a fit livor thou dost seeke to toast ; For he 's both noble , lovely , young , And for the troubled Clyent fyl's his tongue , Child of a hundred Arts , and farre Will he display the Ensignes of thy warre . And when he smiling finds his Grace With thee 'bove all his Rivals gifts take place , He will thee a Marble Statue make Beneath a Sweet-wood Roofe , neere Alba Lake : Illic plurima Naribus Duces tura , lyraeque , & Berecynthiae Delectabere tibiae Mistis carminibus non sine fistula . Illic bis pueri die , Numen cum teneris virginibus tuum Laudantes , pede candido In mortem Salium ter quatient humum . Me nec foemina , nec puer , Jam , nec spes animi credula mutui , Nec certare juvat mero : Nec vincere novis tempora floribus . Sed cur , heu Ligurine , cur Manat rara meas lachryma per genos ? Cur facunda parum decoro Inter verba cadit lingua silentio ? Nocturnis te ego Somniis Jam captum teneo , jam volucrem sequor : Te per gramina Martii Campi , te per aquas , dure , volubileis ,
Ode ix . lib. 3. Ad Lydiam . Dialogus Horatii & Lydiae . HOR. DOnec gratus eram tibi , Nec quisquam potior brachia candida Cervici juvenis dabat ; Persarum vigui rege beatior . LYD. Donec non alia magis Arsisti , neque erat Lydia post Chloën . Multi Lydia nominis Romana vigui clarior Ilia . HOR. Me nunc Thressa Cloë regit , Dulceis docta modos , & Citharae sciens : Pro qua non metuam mori , Si parcent animae fata superstiti . LYD. Me torret face mutua Thurini Calais filius Ornithi : Pro quo bis patiar mori , Si parcent puero fata superstiti . HOR. Quid si priscaredit Venus , Diductosque jugo cogit aheneo ? Si flava excutitur Chloë Rejectaeque patet janua Lydiae ? LYD. Qanquam sidere pulchrior Ille est , tu levior Cortice , & improbo iracundior Adria , Tecum vivere amem , tecum obeam libens . There shall thy dainty Nostrill take In many a Gumme , and for thy soft eares sake Shall Verse be set to Harpe and Lute , And Phrygian Hau'boy , not without the Flute . There twice a day in sacred Laies , The Youths and tender Maids shall sing thy praise : And in the Salian manner meet Thrice 'bout thy Altar with their Ivory feet . Me now , nor Wench , nor wanton Boy , Delights , nor credulous hope of mutuall Joy , Nor care I now healths to propound ; Or with fresh flowers to girt my Temple round . But , why , oh why , my Ligurine , Flow my thin teares , downe these pale cheeks of mine ? Or why , my well-grac'd words among , With an uncomely silence failes my tongue ? Hard-hearted , I dreame every Night I hold thee fast ! but fled hence , with the Light , Whether in Mars his field thou bee , Or Tybers winding streames , I follow thee .
Ode IX . 3 Booke , to Lydia . Dialogue of Horace , and Lydia HOR. WHilst , Lydia , I was lov'd of thee , And ( 'bout thy Ivory neck , ) no youth did fling , His armes more acceptable free , I thought me richer then the Persian King . LYD. Whilst Horace lov'd no Mistres more , Nor after Cloë did his Lydia found ; In name , I went all names before , The Roman Ilia was not more renown'd . HOR. 'T is true , I 'am Thracian Chloes , I Who sings so sweet , and with such cunning plaies , As , for her , I'l'd not feare to die , So Fate would give her life , and longer daies . LYD. And , I am mutually on fire With gentle Calais Thurine , Orniths Sonne ; For whom I doubly would expire , So Fates would let the Boy a long thred run . HOR. But , say old Love returne should make , And us dis-joyn'd force to her brazen yoke , That I bright Cloë off should shake ; And to left - Lydia , now the gate stood ope . LYD. Though he be fairer then a Starre ; Thou lighter then the barke of any tree , And then rough Adria , angrier , farre ; Yet would I wish to love , live , die with thee .
Fragmentum Petron. Arbitr .
FOeda est in coitu , & brevis voluptas , Et taedet Veneris statim peractae . Non ergo ut pecudes libidinosa , Coeci protinùs irruamus illuc : Nam languescit Amor peritque Flamma . Sed sic , sic , sine fine feriati , Et tecum jaceamus osculantes : Hic nullus labor est , ruborque nullus ; Hoc juvit , juvat , & diu juvabit : Hoc non deficit , incipitque semper .
The same translated . Doing , a filthy pleasure is , and short ; And done , we straight repent us of the sport : Let us not then rush blindly on unto it , Like lustfull beasts , that onely know to doe it : For lust will languish , and that heat decay , But thus , thus , keeping endlesse Holy-day , Let us together closely lie , and kisse , There is no labour , nor no shame in this ; This hath pleas'd , doth please , and long will please ; never Can this decay , but is beginning ever .
Epigramma Martialis . Lib. viii . Lxxvii .
LIber , amicorum dulcissima curatuorum , Liber in aeterna vivere digne rosâ ; Si sapis Assyrio semper tibi crinis amomo Splendeat , & cingant florea serta caput : Candida nigrescant vetulo christalla Falerno , Et caleat blando mollis amore thorus . Qui sic , vel medio finitus vixit in aevo , Longior huic facta , quam data vita fuit .
The same translated . LIber , of all thy friends , thou sweetest care , Thou worthy in eternall Flower to fare , If thou be'st wise , with ‛ Syrian Oyle let shine Thy locks , and rosie garlands crowne thy head ; Darke thy cleare glasse with old Falernian Wine ; And heat , with softest love , thy softer bed . Hee , that but living halfe his dayes , dies such , Makes his life longer then 't was given him , much .
THE KINGS ENTERTAINMENT AT WELBECK IN NOTTINGHAM-SHIRE , A house of the Right Honourable , WILLIAM Earle of Newcastle , Vicount Mansfield , Baron of Botle , and Bolsover , &c. At his going into Scotland . 1633.
His Matie being set at Dinner ,
A Song was sung : A Dialogue betweene the Passions , Doubt and Love . DOVET . WHat softer sounds are these salute the Eare From the large Circle of the Hemispheare , As if the Center of all sweets met here ! LOVE . It is the breath , and Soule of every thing , Put forth by Earth , by Nature , and the Spring , To speake the Welcome , Welcome of the King . CHORVS . The joy of plants . The spirit of flowers , Of Affections , Joy . Delight , &c. The smell , and verdure of the bowers , The waters murmure ; with the showers Distilling on the new-fresh howers : The whistling winds , and birds , that sing The Welcome of our great , good King . Welcome , O Welcome , is the generall voyce , Wherein all Creatures practize to rejoyce .
The second Straine . LOVE . WHen was old Sherewood's head more quaintly curl'd ? Or look'd the Earth more greene upon the world ? Or Natures Cradle mere inchas'd , and purl'd ? When did the Aire so smile , the Winds so chime ? As Quiristers of Season , and the Prime ! Dou. If what they doe , be done in their due time . CHORVS . Hee makes the time for whom 't is done , From whom the warmth , heat , life , begun , Into whose fostring armes doe run All that have being from the Sun . Such is the fount of light , the King , The heart , that quickens ev'ry thing , And makes the Creatures language all one voyce ; In Welcome , Welcome , Welcome , to rejoyce : Welcome is all our Song , is all our sound , The Treble part , the Tenor , and the Ground .
After Dinner .

THe King , and the Lords being come downe , and ready to take horse , In the Crowd were discover'd two notorious persons , and men of businesse , as by their eminent dressing , and habits did soone appeare .

One in a costly Cassock of black Buckram girt unto him , whereon was painted Party-per pale : On the one side . Noune . Pronoune . Verbe . declined Participle . On the other side . Adverbe . Conjunction . Praeposition . Undeclined . Interjection . With his Hart , Hat-band , Stockings , and Sandals suted , and marked , A.B.C. &c.

The other in a Taberd , or Heralds Coat of Azure , and Gules quarterly chang'd of Buckram ; Limn'd with yellow , in stead of Gold , and pasted over with old Records of the two Shires , and certaine fragments of the Forrest , as a Coat of Antiquitie , and President , willing to be seene , but heard to be read , and is loth to be understood , without the Interpreter , who wore it : For the wrong end of the letters were turn'd upward , therefore was a labell fix'd to , To the Curious Prier , advertising : Looke not so neere , with hope to understand ; Out-cept , Sir , you can read with the left hand .

Their Names were , Accidence , Fitz-Ale .

ACCI .

BY your faire leave Gentlemen of Court ; for leave is ever faire being ask'd ; and granted is as light , according to our English Proverbe , Leave is light . Which is the King I pray you ?

FITZ .

Or rather the Kings Lieutenant ? For we have nothing to say to the King , till we have spoken with my Lord Lieutenant .

ACC.

Of Nottinghamshire .

FITZ .

And Darbyshire , for he is both . And we have businesse to both sides of him from either of the Counties .

ACC.

As farre as his Command stretches .

FITZ .

Is this he ?

ACC.

This is no great man by his timber ( as we say i' the Forrest ) by his thewes he may . I 'll venture a Part of Speech , two , or three at him ; to see how hee is declin'd . My Lord , Pleaseth your good Lordship , I am a poore Neighbour , here , of your Honours , i' the Countie .

FITZ .

Mr. A-B-Cee Accidence , my good Lord , Schoole-master of Mansfield , the painfull Instructer of our Youth in their Countrey elements , as appeareth by the signe of correction , in his hat , with the trust of the Towne-Pen-and-Inkehorne , committed to the Sure-tie of his Girdle , from the whole Corporation .

ACC.

This is the more remarkeable man , my very good Lord ; Father Fitz-ale , Herald of Darbie , Light , and Lanthorne of both Counties ; the learned Antiquarie o' the North : Conserver of the Records of either Forrest , as witnesseth the briefe Tabard , or Coat Armour he carries , being an industrious Collection of all the written , or reported Wonders of the Peake .

SAint Anne of Buxstons boyling Well , Or Elden bottomlesse , like Hell : Pooles-hole , or Satans sumptuous Arse , ( Surreverence ) with the Mine-mens Farce . Such a light , and metall'd Dance Saw you never yet in France . And by Lead-men , for the nonce , That turne round like grindlestones : Which they dig out fro' the Delves , For their Bairnes-bread , Wives , and sell's : Whom the Whetstone sharpes to eat , And cry Milstones are good meat . He can flie o're hills , and dales , And report you more odde tales , Of our Outlaw Robinhood That revell'd here in Sherewood ; And more stories of him show ( Though he ne're shot in his Bow . ) Then au ' men , or beleeve , or know . FITZ . Stint , stint , your Court , Grow to be short , Throw by your Clatter , And handle the matter : We come with our Peeres , And crave your eares , To present a Wedding , Intended a bedding , Of both the Shires . Father FitZ-ale Hath a Daughter stale In Darbie-Towne , Knowne , up , and downe For a great Antiquitie : And Pem she hight A solemne Wight As you should meet In any street , In that Ubiquitie . Her , he hath brought As having sought By many a draught Of Ale , and Craft ; With skill to graft In some old Stock , O' the Yeoman block , And Forrest-blood , Of old Sherewood . And he hath found Within the ground , At last no Shrimpe , Whereon to impe , His jolly Club , But a bold Stub O' the right wood , FITZ . A Champion good ; Who here in place , Presents himselfe , Like doughtie Elfe , Of Greenwood Chase .

Here Stub the Bridegroome presented himselfe , being apparelled in a yellow Canvas Doublet , cut , a greene Jerkin , and Hose , like a Ranger . A Munmouth Cap , with a yellow Feather , yellow Stockings , and Shooes , for being to dance , he would not trouble himselfe with Bootes .

Stub of Stub-hall , Some doe him call ; But most doe say Hee 's Stub , will stay ; To run his race , Not run away ACC. At Quintin , hee , In honour of this Bridaltee , Hath challeng'd either wide Countee ; Come Cut , and Long-taile . For there be Sixe Batchelers , as bold as hee , Adjuting to his Companee , And each one hath his Liverie ; FITZ . Sixe Hoods they are , and of the blood , They tell of ancient Robinhood .

Here the sixe Hoods presented themselves severally , in their Livory Hoods , whil'st FitZ-ale spoke on .

Red-hood the first that doth appeare Red-hood . In Stamel . ACC. Scarlet is too deare . FITZ . Then Green-hood . AC . He 's in Kendal Green , Green-hood . As in the Forrest Colour seene . FITZ . Next Blew-hood is , and in that hue Blew-hood . Doth vaunt a heart as pure , and true As is the Skie ; ( give him his due . ) ACC. Of old England the Yeoman blew . FITZ . Then Tawney fra' the Kirke that came . Tawney-hood . ACC. And cleped was the Abbots man . FITZ . With Motley-hood , the Man of Law . Motley-hood . ACC. And Russet-hood keepes all in Awe . Russet-hood . Bold Batchelers they are , and large , And come in at the Countrey charge ; Horse , Bridles , Saddles , Stirrups , Girts , All reckon'd o' the Countie skirts ! And all their Courses , misse , or hit , Intended are , for the Sheere-wit , And so to be receiv'd . Their game Is Countrey sport , and hath a name From the Place that beares the cost , Else all the Fat i' the Fire were lost . Goe Captaine Stub , lead on , and show What house you come on , by the blow You give Sir Quintin , and the Cuffe , You scape o' th' Sand-bags Counterbuffe . Stubs Course . 1. ACC. A Flourish . O well run , Yeoman Stub ! Thou hast knock'd it , like a Club , And made Sir Quintin know : By this his race so good ; He himselfe is also wood ; As by his furious blow . Red-hoods Course . 2. FITZ . Flourish . Bravely run Red-hood , There was a shock , To have buff'd out the blood From ought but a block . Greene-hoods Course 3. ACC. Flourish . Well run Green-hood , got betweene , Under the Sand-bag , he was seene , Lowting low , like a For'ster greene : FITZ . Hee knowes his tackle , and his treene . Blew-hoods Course . 4. ACC. Flourish . Gi' the old England Yeoman his due , H' has hit Sir Quin : just i' the Qu: Though that be black , yet he is blew . It is a brave patch , and a new ! Tawny-hoods Course . 5. FITZ . Flourish . Well run Tawney , the Abbots Churle His Jade gave him a Jerk , As he woul ' have his Rider hurle His Hood after the Kirke . But he was wiser , and well beheft , For this is all , that he hath left . Motley-hoods Course . 6. FITZ . Flourish . Or the Saddle turn'd round , or the Girths brake , For low on the ground ( wo' for his sake ) The Law is found . ACC. Had his paire of tongues , not so much good , To keepe his head , in his Motley-hood ? Russet-hoods Course . 7. FITZ . Flourish . Russet ran fast , though he be throwne , ACC. He lost no stirrup , for he had none . 1. His horse , it is the Heralds weft . 2. No 't is a mare , and hath a cleft . 3. She is Countrey-borrow'd , and no vaile , But 's hood is forfeit to FitZ-ale .

Here Accidence did breake them of , by calling them to the Dance , and to the Bride , who was drest like an old May-Lady , with Skarfes , and a great wrought Handkerchiefe , with red , and blew , and other habiliments . Sixe Maids attending on her , attir'd , with Buckram Bride-laces beguilt : White sleeves , and Stammell Petticotes , drest after the cleanliest Countrey guise ; among whom Mistris Alphabet , Master Accidence's Daughter , did beare a prime sway .

The two Bride Squires , the Cake-bearer , and the Boll-bearer , were in two yellow leather Doublets , and russet Hose , like two twin-Clownes prest out for that office , with Livery Hatts , and Ribbands .

ACC. Come to the Bride ; another fit , Yet show , Sirs , o' your Countrey wit , But o' your best . Let all the Steele Of back , and braines fall to the heele ; And all the Quick-silver i' the mine Run i' the foot-veines , and refine Your Firk-hum-Jerk-hum to a Dance , Shall fetch the Fiddles out of France ; To wonder at the Horne-pipes , here , Of Nottingham , and Darbishire . FITZ . With the Phant'sies of Hey-troll , Trol about the Bride-all Boll , And divide the broad Bride-Cake Round about the Brides-stake . ACC. With , here is to the fruit of Pem , FITZ . Grafted upon Stub his Stem , ACC. With the Peakish Nicetie , FITZ . And old Sherewoods Vicetie .

The last of which words were set to a Tune , and sung to the Bagpipe , and Measure of their Dance ; the Clownes , and companie of Spectators drinking , and eating the while .

The Song . LEt 's sing about , and say , Hey-trol , Troll to me the Bridall Boll , And divide the broad Bride-Cake , Round about the Brides-stake . With , Here , is to the fruit of Pem , Grafted upon Stub his stem ; With the Peakish Nicetie , And old Sherewoods Vicetie . But well daunc'd Pem upon record , Above thy Yeoman , or May-Lord .

Here it was thought necessarie they should be broken off , by the comming in of an Officer , or servant of the Lord Lieutenants , whose face had put on , with his Clothes , an equall authoritie for the businesse .

Gentleman . GIve end unto your rudenesse : Know at length Whose time , and patience you have urg'd , the Kings . Whom if you knew , and truly , as you ought , 'T would strike a reverence in you , even to blushing , That King whose love it is , to be your Parent ! Whose Office , and whose Charge , to be your Pastor ! Whose single watch , defendeth all your sleepes ! Whose labours , are your rests ! whose thoughts and cares , Breed you delights ! whose bus'nesse , all your leasures ! And you to interrupt his serious houres , With light , impertinent , unworthy objects , Sights for your selves , and sav'ring your owne tast's ; You are too blame . Know your disease , and cure it , Sports should not be obtruded on great Monarchs , But wait when they will call for them as servants , And meanest of their servants , since their price is At highest , to be styl'd , but of their pleasures ! Our King is going now to a great worke Of highest Love , Affection , and Example , To see his Native Countrey , and his Cradle , And find those manners there , which he suck'd in With Nurses Milke , and Parents pietie ! O Sister Scotland ! what hast thou deserv'd Of joyfull England , giving us this King ! What Union ( if thou lik'st ) hast thou not made ? In knitting for Great Brittaine such a Garland ? And letting him , to weare it ? Such a King ! As men would wish , that knew not how to hope His like , but seeing him ! A Prince , that 's Law Unto himselfe . Is good , for goodnesse-sake ; And so becomes the Rule unto his Subjects ! That studies not to seeme , or to show great , But be ! Not drest for others eyes , and eares , With Vizors , and false rumours ; but make Fame Wait on his Actions , and thence speake his Name ! O blesse his Goings out , and Commings in , Thou mighty God of Heaven , lend him long Unto the Nations , which yet scarcely know him , Yet are most happy , by his Government . Blesse his faire Bed-mate , and their certaine Pledges , And never may he want those nerves in Fate ; For sure Succession fortifies a State . Whilst he himselfe is mortall , let him feele Nothing about him mortall , in his house ; Let him approve his young increasing Charles , A loyall Sonne : and take him long to be An aid , before he be a Successor . Late , come that day , that Heaven will aske him from us : Let our Grand-child , and their issue , long Expect it , and not see it . Let us pray That Fortune never know to exercise More power upon him , then as Charles his servant , And his great Brittaines slave : ever to waite Bond-woman to the GENIUS of this State .
Perform'd , the xxi . of May. 1633.
LOVES WEL-COME . THE KING AND QVEENES ENTERTAINMENT AT BOLSOVER : AT The Earle of Newcastles , The thirtieth of Iuly , 1634.
The Song at the Banquet ; Sung by two Tenors , and a Base . IF Love be call'd a lifting of the Sense To knowledge of that pure intelligence , CHORUS . Wherein the Soule hath rest , and residence : 1. TEN . When were the Senses in such order plac'd ? 2. TEN . The Sight , the Hearing , Smelling , Touching , Taste , All at one Banquet ? BAS. ‛ Would it ever last ! 1. Wee wish the same : who set it forth thus ? BAS. Love ! 2. But to what end , or to what object ? BAS. Love ! 1. Doth Love then feast it selfe ? BAS. Love will feast Love ! 2. You make of Love , a riddle , or a chaine , A circle , a mere knott , untie't againe . BAS. Love is a Circle , both the first , and last Of all our Actions , and his knotts , too , fast . 1. A true-love Knot , will hardly be unti'd , And if it could , who would this Payre divide . 〈◊〉 1. God made them such , and Love . 2. TEN . Who is aring , The likest to the yeare of anything , 2. And runs into it selfe . BAS. Then let us sing , And run into one sound . Let Welcome fill CHORVS Our thoughts , hearts , voyces , and that one word trill , Through all our Language , Welcome , Welcome still ,
Complement . 1. Could we put on the beautie of all Creatures , 2. Sing in the Aire , and notes of Nightingales , 1. Exhale the sweets of Earth , and all her features , 2. And tell you , softer then in Silke , these tales , BAS. Welcome should season all for Taste . And hence , CHORVS At every reall banquet to the Sense , Welcome , true Welcome fill the Complements .
After the Banquet , the King and Queene retir'd , were entertain'd with Coronell Vitruvius his Oration to his Dance of Mechanickes . VIT.

COme forth , boldly put forth , i' your Holy-day Clothes , every Mothers Sonne of you . This is the King , and Queenes , Majesticall Holy-day . My Lord has it granted from them ; I had it granted from my Lord : and doe give it unto you gratis , that is bonâ fide , with the faith of a Surveyour , your Coronell Vitruvius . Doe you know what a Surveyour is now ? I tell you a Supervisor ! A hard word , that ; but it may be softned , and brought in , to signifie something . An Overseer ! One that oversee-eth you . A busie man ! And yet I must seeme busier then I am , ( as the Poet sings , but which of them . I will not now trouble my selfe to tell you . ) O Captaine Smith ! The first Quaternio . Captaine Smith , or Vulcan , with three Cyclops . or Hammer-armed Vulcan ! with your three Sledges , you are our Musique , you come a little too tardie ; but wee remit that , to your polt-foot , we know you are lame . Plant your selves there , and beat your time out at the Anvile . Time , and Measure , are the Father , and Mother of Musique , you know ,

The second Quatern :

Chesil . The Carver .

Maul . The Free-Mason .

Sq. Sūmer. The Carpenter .

Twybil . His Man .

The third Quaternio .

Dresser . The Plomber .

Quarel . The Glasier .

Fret . The Plaisterer .

Beuter . The Morter-man .

and your Coronell Vitruvius knowes a little . O Chesil ! our curious Carver ! and Master Maul , our Free-Mason ; Squire Summer , our Carpenter , and Twybil his Man ; stand you foure , there , i' the second ranke , worke upon that ground . And you Dresser , the Plomber ; Quarrel , the Glasier ; Fret , the Plaisterer ; and Beater , the Morterman ; put all you on i' the reere , as finishers in true footing , with Tune , and Measure . Measure is the Soule of a Dance , and Tune the Tickle-foot thereof . Use Holy-day legges , and have 'hem : Spring , Leape , Caper , and Gingle ; Pumpes , and Ribbands , shall be your reward , till the Soles of your feet swell , with the surfet of your light and nimble Motion .

Well done , my Musicall , Arithmeticall , They begun to Dance . Geometricall Gamesters ! or rather my true Mathematicall Boyes ! It is carried , in number , weight , and measure ; as if the Aires were all Harmonie , and the Figures a well-tim'd Proportion ! I cry still ; Deserve Holy-dayes , and have 'hem . I 'le have a whole Quarter of the yeare cut out for you in Holy-dayes , and lac'd with Statute-Tunes , and Dances ; fitted to the activitie of your Tressels , to which you shall trust , Ladds , in the name of your Iniquo Vitruvius . Hay for the Lilly , for , and the blended Rose .

The Dance ended .

And the King , and Queene , having a second Banquet , set downe before them from the Cloudes by two Loves ; One , as the Kings , the other as the Queenes ; differenced by their Garlands only : His of White , and Red Roses ; the other of Lilly's inter-weav'd , Gold , Silver , Purple , &c. With a bough of Palme ( in his hand ) cleft a little at the top . They were both arm'd , and wing'd : with Bowes and Quivers , Cassocks , Breeches , Buskins , Gloves , and Perukes alike . They stood silent awhile , wondring at one another , till at last the lesser of them began to speake .

Eros . Anteros . ER. ANother Cupid ? AN. Yes , your second selfe , A Sonne of Venus , and as meere an elfe , And wagge as you . ER.

Eros ?

AN.

No , Anteros :

Your Brother , Cupid , yet not sent to cross ' , Or spie into your favours , here , at Court . EROS . What then ? AN. To serve you , Brother , and report Your graces from the Queenes side to the Kings , In whose name I salute you . ER. Breake my wings I feare you will . AN. O be not jealous , Brother ! What bough is this ? ER.

A Palme .

AN. Give me 't . Anteros snatch'd at the Palme , but Eros divided it . ER. Another You may have . AN.

I will this .

ER.

Divide it .

AN.

So.

This was right Brother-like ! The world will know By this one Act , both natures . You are Love , I Love , againe . In these two Spheares we move , Eros , and Anteros . ER. We ha' cleft the bough , And struck a tallie of our loves , too , now . AN. I call to mind the wisdome of our Mother Venus , who would have Cupid have a Brother — ER. To looke upon , and thrive . Mee seemes I grew Three inches higher sin ' I met with you . It was the Counsell , that the Oracle gave Your Nurses the glad Graces , sent to crave Themis advice . You doe not know ( quoth shee ) The nature of this Infant . Love may be Brought forth thus little , live a-while alone , But ne're will prosper , if he have not one Sent after him to play with . ER. Such another As you are Anteros , our loving brother . AN. Who would be alwayes , planted , in your eye ; For Love , by Love increaseth mutually . ER. Wee , either , looking on each other , thrive ; AN. Shoot up , grow galliard — ER. Yes , and more alive ! AN. When one's away , it seemes we both are lesse . ER. I was a Dwarfe , an Urchin , I confesse , . Till you were present . AN. But a bird of wing , Now , fit to flie before a Queene , or King . ER. I ha' not one sick feather sin ' you came , But turn'd a jollier Cupid . AN. Then I am . ER. I love my Mothers braine , could thus provide For both in Court , and give us each our side , Where we might meet . AN. Embrace . ER. Circle each other . AN. Conferre , and whisper . ER. Brother , with a Brother . AN. And by this sweet Contention for the Palme , Unite our appetites , and make them calme . ER. To will , and nill one thing . AN. And so to move Affection in our Wills , as in our Love . ER. It is the place sure breeds it , where wee are , AN. The King , and Queenes Court , which is circular , And perfect . ER. The pure schoole that we live in , And is of purer Love , a Discipline .
Philalethes .

NO more of your Poetrie ( prettie Cupids ) lest presuming on your little wits , you prophane the intention of your service . The Place I confesse , wherein ( by the Providence of your Mother Venus ) you are now planted , is the divine Schoole of Love . An Academie , or Court , where all the true lessons of Love are throughly read and taught . The Reasons , the Proportions , and Harmonie , drawne forth in analytick Tables , and made demonstrable to the Senses . Which if you ( Brethren ) should report , and sweare to , would hardly get credit above a Fable , here in the edge of Darbyshire ( the region of Ale ) because you relate in Rime . O , that Rime is a shrewd disease , and makes all suspected it would perswade . Leave it , prettie Cupids , leave it . Rime will undoe you , and hinder your growth , and reputation in Court , more then any thing beside you have either mention'd , or fear'd . If you dable in Poëtrie once , it is done of your being believ'd , or understood here . No man will trust you in this Verge , but conclude you for a meere case of Canters , or a paire of wandring Gipsies .

Returne to your selves ( little Deities ) and admire the Miracles you serve , this excellent King , and his unparallel'd Queene , who are the Canons , the Decretals , and whole Schoole-Divinitie of Love . Contemplate , and studie them . Here shall you read Hymen , having lighted two Torches , either of which enflame mutually , but waste not . One Love by the others aspect increasing , and both in the right lines of aspiring . The Fates spinning them round and even threds , and of their whitest wooll , without brack , or purle . Fortune , and Time fetter'd at their feet with Adamantine Chaines , their wings deplum'd , for starting from them . All amiablenesse in the richest dresse of delight and colours , courting the season to tarry by them , and make the Idea of their Felicitie perfect ; together with the love , knowledge , and dutie of their Subjects perpetuall . So wisheth the glad , and gratefull Client , seated here , the over-joy'd Master of the house ; and prayeth that the whole Region about him could speake but his language . Which is , that first the Peoples love would let that People know their owne happinesse , and that knowledge could confirme their duties , to an admiration of your sacred Persons ; discended , one from the most peacefull , the other the most warlike , both your pious , and just progenitors ; from whom , as out of Peace came Strength , and out of the Strong came sweetnesse , alluding to the holy Riddle , so in you joyn'd by holy marriage in the flower and ripenesse of yeares , live the promise of a numerous Succession to your Scepters , and a strength to secure your owne Ilands , with their owne Ocean , but more your owne Palme-branches , the Types of perpetuall Victorie . To which , two words be added , a zealous Amen , and ever rounded , with a Crowne of Welcome . Welcome , Welcome . * ⁎ *

MORTIMER HIS FALL .

A TRAGEDIE , WRITTEN BY BEN. IOHNSON .

HOR. in Art. Poëtic .

Et docuit magnumque loqui , nitique cothurno .

Printed M.DC.XL .

The Persons Names . MORTIMER . Earle of March . ISABEL . Queene Mother . ADAM D'ORLTON . B. of Worc'ter . CHORUS . Of Ladies , Knights , and Squires . EDWARD . 3. K. of England . JOHN , the K. Brother . Earle of Cornwall . HEN. the K. Cosin . Earle of Lancaster . W. MOUNTACUTE . K. Servant . RO. D'ELAND . Const. of Nott. Castle . NUNCIUS . Or a Herald .
Arguments .

THe first Act comprehends Mortimers pride and securitie , raysed to the degree of an Earle , by the Queenes favour , and love ; with the Counsells of Adam D'orlton , the politique B. of Worc'ter , against Lancaster .

The Chorus of Ladyes , celebrating the worthinesse of the Queene ; in rewarding Mortimers services , and the Bishops .

The second Act shewes the Kings love , and respect to his Mother , that will heare nothing against Mortimers greatnesse , or beleeve any report of her extraordinary favours to him , but imputes all to his Cosin Lancasters envie ; and commands there-after , an utter silence of those matters .

The Chorus of Courtiers , celebrating the Kings worthinesse of Nature , and Affection to his Mother , who will heare nothing , that may trench upon her honour , though deliver'd by his Kinsman , of such neerenesse , and thereby take occasion to extoll the Kings pietie , and their owne happinesse under such a King .

The third Act relates ( by the occasion of a vision , the blind Earle of L. had ) to the Kings Brother E. of Cornwall , the horrour of their Fathers death , and the cunning making away of their Uncle , the Earle of K. by Mortimers hired practise .

The Chorus of Countrey Justices , and their Wives , telling how they were deluded , and made beleeve , the old King liv'd , by the shew of him in Corfe Castle ; and how they saw him eat , and use his knife , like the old King , &c. with the description of the feigned Lights , and Masques there , that deceiv'd 'hem , all which came from the Court.

The fourth Act expresseth by conference betweene the K. and his Brother a change , and intention to explore the truth of those reports , and a charge of employing W. Montacute , to get the keyes of the Castle of Nott. into the K. power , and draw the Constable , Sir Rob. D'Eland , to their party .

Mortimers securitie , scorne of the Nobilitie , too much familiaritie with the Queene , related by the Chorus , the report of the Kings surprizing him in his Mothers bed-chamber , a generall gladnesse , his being sent to execution .

The fifth Act , the Earle of Lancasters following the crie , and meeting the report . The Celebration of the Kings Justice .

MORTIMER HIS FALL .
Act I. MORTIMER . THis Rise is made , yet ! and we now stand , ranck'd , To view about us , all that were above us ! Nought hinders now our prospect , all are even , We walke upon a Levell . Mortimer Is a great Lord of late , and a new thing ! — A Prince , an Earle , and Cosin to the King . At what a divers price , doe divers men Act the same things ! Another might have had Perhaps the Hurdle , or at least the Axe , For what I have this Crownet , Robes , and Waxe . There is a Fate , that flies with towring spirits Home to the marke , and never checks at conscience . Poore plodding Priests , and preaching Friars may make Their hollow Pulpits , and the empty Iles Of Churches ring with that round word : But wee That draw the subtile , and more piercing ayre , In that sublimed region of Court , Know all is good , we make so , and goe on Secur'd by the prosperity of our crimes . To day , is Mortimer made Earle of March . For what ? For that , the very thinking it Would make a Citizen start ! some politique Tradesman Curle with the Caution of a Constable ! But I , who am no common Councell man , Knew , injuries of that darke nature done Were to be throughly done , and not be left To feare of a revenge . They' are light offences Which admit that . The great ones get above it . Man doth not nurse a deadlier peece of follie To his high temper , and brave soule , then that Of fancying goodnesse , and a seale to live by So differing from mans life . As if with Lyons , Beares , Tigers , Wolves , and all those beasts of Prey , He would affect to be a Sheepe ! Can man Neglect what is , so , to attaine what should be , As rather he will call on his owne ruine , Then worke t' assure his safetie ? I should thinke When 'mongst a world of bad , none can be good , ( I meane so absolutely good , and perfect , As our religious Confessors would have us ) It is enough , we doe decline the rumour Of doing monstrous things : And , yet , if those Were of emolument , unto our ends , Even of those , the wiseman will make friends For all the brand , and safely doe the ill , As Usurers rob , or our Physicians kill . ISABEL . MORTIMER . My Lord ! sweet Mortimer ! MOR. My Q. my Mistresse ! My Soveraigne ! nay , my Goddesse ! and my Juno ! What name , or title , as a marke of Power Upon me , should I give you ? ISA. Isabel , Your Isabel , and you my Mortimer : Which are the markes of Paritie , not power And these are titles , best become our love . MOR. Can you fall under those ? ISA. Yes , and be happie . Walke forth , my lov'd , and gentle Mortimer , And let my longing eyes enjoy their feast , And fill of thee ; my faire-shap'd , God-like man : Thou art a banquet unto all my Senses ; Thy forme doth feast mine eye , thy voyce mine eare , Thy breath , my smell , thy every kisse my taste ; And softnesse of thy skin , my very touch : As if I felt it dactile through my blood . I ne're was reconciled to these robes , This garbe of England , till I saw thee in them . Thou mak'st , they seeme not boistrous , nor rude , Like my rough haughty Lords de Engle-terre , With whom I have so many yeares beene troubled . MOR. But now redeem'd , and set at libertie , Queene of your selfe , and them .

Hee dy'd , and left it unfinished .

THE MAGNETICK LADY : OR , HVMORS RECONCIL'D .

A COMEDY composed By BEN : IOHNSON .

I am lapides suus ardor agit ferrumque tenetur , Illecebris . — Claud. de Magnet .

LONDON , Printed M.CD.XL .

THE SCENE LONDON . The Persons that act . LADY Loadstone , The Magnetick Lady . Mrs. Polish , Her Gossip , and she-Parasite Mrs. Placentia , Her Neice . Pleasance , Her Waiting-woman . Mrs. Keepe , The Neices Nourse . MOTHER Chaire , The Midwife . Mr. Compasse , A Scholler , Mathematick . CAPTAINE Ironside , A Souldier . PARSON Palate , Prelate of the Parish . DOCTOR Rut , Physician to the house . Tim Item , His Apothecary . SIR Diaph Silkworm , A Courtier . Mr. Practise , A Lawyer . SIR Moath Interest , An Vsurer , or Money-baud . Mr. Bias , A Vi-politique , or Sub secretary . Mr. Needle , The Ladies Steward , and Taylor .

CHORVS by way of Induction .

THE INDVCTION , OR , CHORUS . Two Gentlemen entring upon the Stage . Mr. PROBEE and Mr. DAMPLAY . A BOY of the house , meets them . Boy .

What doe you lack , Gentlemen ? what is 't you lack ? any fine Phansies , Figures , Humors , Characters , Idaeas , Definitions of Lords , and Ladies ? Waiting-women , Parasites , Knights , Captaines , Courtiers , Lawyers ? what doe you lack ?

Pro.

A pretty prompt Boy for the Poëtique Shop .

Dam. And a bold ! where 's one o' your Masters , Sirrah , the Poet ? Boy .

Which of 'hem ? Sir wee have divers that drive that trade , now : Poëts , Poet'accios , Poetasters , Poetito's —

Dam.

And all Haberdashers of small wit , I presume : wee would speake with the Poët o' the day , Boy .

Boy .

Sir , hee is not here . But , I have the dominion of the Shop , for this time , under him , and can shew you all the variety the Stage will afford for the present .

Pro.

Therein you will expresse your owne good parts , Boy .

Dam.

And tye us two , to you , for the gentle office .

Pro.

Wee are a paire of publique persons ( this Gentleman , and my selfe ) that are sent , thus coupled unto you upon state-busines .

Boy .

It concernes but the state of the Stage I hope !

Dam.

O , you shall know that by degrees ,

Boy .

No man leaps into a busines of state , without fourding first the state of the busines .

Pro.

Wee are sent unto you , indeed from the people .

Boy .

The people ! which side of the people ?

Dam.

The Venison side , if you know it , Boy .

Boy .

That 's the left side . I had rather they had beene the right .

Pro.

So they are . Not the Paces , or grounds of your people , that 〈◊〉 in the oblique caves and wedges of your house , your sinfull sixe-penny Mechanicks —

Dam.

But the better , and braver sort of your people ! Plush and Velvet-outsides ! that stick your house round like so many eminences —

Boy .

Of clothes , not understandings ? They are at pawne . Well , I take these as a part of your people though ; what bring you to me from these people ?

Dam.

You have heard , Boy , the ancient Poets had it in their purpose , still to please this people .

Pro.

I , their chiefe aime was —

Dam.

Populo ut placerent : ( if hee understands so much . )

Boy .

Quas fecissent fabulas . ) I understand that , sin ' I learn'd Terence , i' the third forme at Westminster : go on Sir .

Pro.

Now , these people have imployed us to you , in all their names , to intreat an excellent Play from you .

Dam.

For they have had very meane ones , from this shop of late , the Stage as you call it .

Boy .

Troth , Gentlemen , I have no wares , which I dare thrust upon the people with praise . But this , such as it is , I will venter with your people , your gay gallant people : so as you , againe , will undertake for them , that they shall know a good Play when they heare it ; and will have the conscience , and ingenuity beside , to confesse it .

Prob.

Wee 'll passe our words for that : you shall have a brace of us to ingage our selves .

Boy .

You 'l tender your names , Gentlemen , to our booke then ?

Dam.

Yes , here 's Mr. Probee ; A man of most powerfull speech , and parts to perswade .

Pro.

And Mr. Damplay , will make good all hee undertakes .

Boy .

Good Mr. Probee , and Mr. Damplay ! I like your securities : whence doe you write yourselves ?

Pro.

Of London , Gentlemen : but Knights brothers , and Knights friends , I assure you .

Dam.

And Knights fellow's too . Every Poët writes Squire now .

Boy .

You are good names ! very good men , both of you ! I accept you .

Dam.

And what is the Title of your Play , here ? The Magnetick Lady ?

Boy .

Yes , Sir , an attractive title the Author has given it .

Pro.

A Magnete , I warrant you .

Dam.

O , no , from Magnus , Magna , Magnum .

Boy .

This Gentleman , hath found the true magnitude —

Dam.

Of his portall , or entry to the worke , according to Vitruvius .

Boy .

Sir all our worke is done without a Portall — or Vitruvius . In Foro , as a true Comoedy should bee . And what is conceald within , is brought out , and made present by report .

Dam.

Wee see not that alwayes observ'd , by your Authors of these times : or scarce any other .

Boy .

Where it is not at all knowne , how should it be observ'd ? The most of those your people call Authors , never dreamt of any Decorum , or what was proper in the Scene ; but grope at it , i' the darke , and feele , or fumble for it ; I speake it , both with their leave , and the leave o' your people .

Dam.

But , why Humors reconcil'd ? I would faine know ?

Boy .

I can satisfie you there , too : if you will . But , perhaps you desire not to be satisfied .

Dam.

No ? why should you conceive so , Boy ?

Boy .

My conceit is not ripe , yet : I le tell you that anon . The Author , beginning his studies of this kind , with every man in his Humour ; and after , every man out of his Humour ; and since , continuing in all his Playes , especially those of the Comick thred , whereof the New-Inne was the last , some recent humours still , or manners of men , that went along with the times , finding himselfe now neare the close , or shutting up of his Circle , hath phant'sied to himselfe , in Idaea , this Magnetick Mistris . A Lady a brave bountifull House-keeper , and a vertuous Widow : who having a young Neice , ripe for a man and marriageable , hee makes that his Center attractive , to draw thither a diversity of Guests , all persons of different humours to make up his Perimiter . And this hee hath call'd Humors reconcil'd .

Pro.

A bold undertaking ! and farre greater , then the reconciliation of both Churches , the quarrell betweene humours having beene much the ancienter , and , in my poore opinion , the root of all Schisme , and Faction , both in Church and Common-wealth .

Boy .

Such is the opinion of many wisemen , that meet at this shop still ; but how hee will speed in it , wee cannot tell , and hee himselfe ( it seems ) lessecares . For hee will not be intreated by us , to give it a Prologue . He has lost too much that way already , hee sayes . Hee will not woo the gentile ignorance so much . But carelesse of all vulgar censure , as not depending on common approbation , hee is confident it shall super-please judicious Spectators , and to them he leaves it to worke , with the rest by example , or otherwise .

Dam.

Hee may be deceived in that , Boy : Few follow examples now , especially , if they be good .

Boy .

The Play is ready to begin , Gentlemen , I tell you , lest you might defraud the expectation of the people , for whom you are Delegates ! Please you take a couple of Seates , and plant your selves , here , as neere my standing as you can : Fly every thing ( you see ) to the marke , and censure it ; freely . So , you interrupt not the Series , or thred of the Argument , to breake or pucker it , with unnecessary questions . For , I must tell you , ( not out of mine owne Dictamen , but the Authors , ) A good Play , is like a skeene of silke : which , if you take by the right end , you may wind off , at pleasure , on the bottome , or card of your discourse , in a tale , or so ; how you will : But if you light on the wrong end , you will pull all into a knot , or else-lock ; which nothing but the sheers , or a candle will undoe , or separate .

Dam.

Stay ! who be these , I pray you ?

Boy .

Because it is your first question , and ( these be the prime persons ) it would in civility require an answer : but I have heard the Poët affirme , that to be the most unlucky Scene in a Play , which needs an Interpreter ; especially , when the Auditory are awake : and such are you , hee presumes . Ergo.

THE MAGNETICK LADY : OR , HUMORS RECONCIL'D .
ACT I.
SCENE I. Compasse , Ironside . COm. Welcome good Captaine Ironside , and brother ; You shall along with me . I 'm lodg'd hard by , Here at a noble Ladies house i' th' street , The Lady Loadstones ( one will bid us welcome ) Where there are Gentlewomen , and male Guests , Of severall humors , cariage , constitution , Profession too : but so diametrall One to another , and so much oppos'd , As if I can but hold them all together , And draw 'hem to a sufferance of themselves , But till the Dissolution of the Dinner ; I shall have just occasion to beleeve My wit is magisteriall ; and our selves Take infinite delight , i' the successe . Iro . Troth , brother Compasse , you shall pardon me ; I love not so to multiply acquaintance At a meales cost , 't will take off o' my freedome So much : or bind me to the least observance . Com. Why Ironside , you know I am a Scholler , And part a Souldier ; I have beene imployed , By some the greatest States-men o' the kingdome , These many yeares : and in my time convers'd With sundry humors , suiting so my selfe To company , as honest men , and knaves , Good-fellowes , Hypocrites , all sorts of people , Though never so divided in themselves , Have studied to agree still in the usage , And handling of me ( which hath beene faire too . ) Iro . Sir I confesse you to be one well read In men , and manners ; and that , usually , The most ungovern'd persons , you being present , Rather subject themselves unto your censure , Then give you least occasion of distaste , By making you the subject of their mirth : But ( to deale plainely with you , as a brother ) When ever I distrust i' my owne valour : I le never beare me on anothers wit , Or offer to bring off , or save my selfe On the opinion of your Iudgement , gravitie , Discretion , or what else . But ( being away ) You' are sure to have lesse-wit-worke , gentle brother , My humour being as stubborne , as the rest , And as unmannageable . Com. You doe mistake My Caract of your friendship , all this while ! Or at what rate I reckon your assistance Knowing by long experience , to such Animals , Halfe-hearted Creatures , as these are , your Foxe , there , Vnkenneld with a Cholerick , ghastly aspect , Or two or three comminatory Termes , Would run their feares to any hole of shelter , Worth a dayes laughter ! I am for the sport : For nothing else . Iro . But , brother , I ha' seene A Coward , meeting with a man as valiant As our St. George ( not knowing him to be such , Or having least opinion that hee was so ) Set to him roundly , I , and swindge him soundly : And i' the vertue of that errour , having Once overcome , resolv'd for ever after To erre ; and thinke no person , nor no creature More valiant then himselfe . Com. I thinke that too . But , Brother , ( could I over intreat you ) I have some little plot upon the rest If you would be contented , to endure A sliding reprehension , at my hands , To heare your selfe , or your profession glanc'd at In a few sleighting termes : It would beget Me such a maine Authority , o' the by : And doe your selfe no dis-repute at all ! Iro . Compasse , I know that universall causes In nature produce nothing ; but as meeting Particular causes , to determine those , And specifie their acts . This is a piece Of Oxford Science , staies with me ere since I left that place ; and I have often found The truth thereof , in my private passions : For I doe never feele my selfe perturb'd With any generall words 'gainst my profession , Vnlesse by some smart stroke upon my selfe They doe awake , and stirre me : Else , to wise And well experienc'd men , words doe but signifie ; They have no power ; save with dull Grammarians , Whose soules are nought , but a Syntaxis of them . Com. Here comes our Parson , Parson Palate here A venerable youth ! I must salute him , And a great Clerke ! hee 's going to the Ladies , And though you see him thus , without his Cope , I dare assure you , hee 's our Parish Pope ! God save my reverend Clergy , Parson Palate .
ACT I. SCENE II. Palate , Compasse , Ironside . Pal. The witty Mr. Compasse ! how is 't , with you ? Com. My Lady staies for you , and for your Councell , Touching her Neice Mrs. Placentia Steele ! Who strikes the fire of full fourteene , to day , Ripe for a husband . Pal. I , she chimes , shee chimes , Saw you the Doctor Rut , the house Physician ? He 's sent for too . Com. To Councell ? ' time yo' were there . Make haste , and give it a round quick dispatch : That wee may goe to dinner betimes , Parson : And drinke a health , or two more , to the busines . Iro . This is a strange put-off ! a reverend youth , You use him most surreverently me thinkes ! What ? call you him ? Palate Please ? or Parson Palate ? Com. All 's one , but shorter ! I can gi' you his Character . Hee , is the Prelate of the Parish , here ; And governes all the Dames ; appoints the cheere ; Writes downe the bils of fare ; pricks all the Guests ; Makes all the matches and the marriage feasts Within the ward ; drawes all the parish wils ; Designes the Legacies ; and strokes the Gills Of the chiefe Mourners ; And ( who ever lacks ) Of all the kindred , hee hath first his blacks . Thus holds hee weddings up , and burials , As his maine tithing ; with the Gossips stals , Their pewes ; He 's top still , at the publique messe ; Comforts the widow , and the fatherlesse , In funerall Sack ! Sits 'bove the Alderman ! For of the Ward-mote Quest , he better can , The mysterie , then the Levitick Law : That peece of Clark-ship doth his Vestry awe Hee is as he conceives himselfe , a fine Well furnish'd , and apparaled Divine . Iro . Who made this EPIGRAMME , you ? Com. No , a great Clarke As any'is of his bulke . ( Ben : Ionson ) made it . Iro . But what 's the other Character , DOCTOR Rut ? Com. The same man made 'hem both : but his is shorter , And not in rime , but blancks . I le tell you that , too . Rut is a young Physician to the family : That , letting God alone , ascribes to nature More then her share ; licentious in discourse , And in his life a profest Voluptary ; The slave of money , a Buffon in manners ; Obscene in language ; which he vents for wit ; Is sawcy in his Logicks , and disputing , Is any thing but civill , or a man . See here they are ! and walking with my Lady , In consultation , afore the doore ; Wee will slip in , as if we saw 'hem not .
ACT I. SCENE III. Lady , Palate , Rut. Lad. I , t is his fault , she 's not bestow'd , My brother Interests . Pal. Who , old Sir Moath ? Lad. Hee keeps off all her Suitors , keepes the portion , Still in his hands : and will not part withall , On any termes . Pal. Hinc illae lachrymae ; Thence flowes the cause o' the maine grievance . Rut. That It is a maine one ! how much is the portion ? Lad. No petty summe . Pal. But sixteene thousand pound . Rut. He should be forc'd , Madam , to lay it downe . When is it payable ? Lad. When she is married . Pal. Marry her , marry her , Madam . Rut. Get her married . Loose not a day , an houre — Pal. Not a minute . Pursue your project reall . Mr. Compasse , Advis'd you , too . He is the perfect Instrument , Your Ladiship should saile by . Rut. Now , Mr. Compasse Is a fine witty man ; I saw him goe in , now . Lad. Is hee gone in ? Pal. Yes , and a Fether with him , He seemes a Souldier . Rut. Some new Sutor , Madam . Lad. I am beholden to him : hee brings ever Variety of good persons to my table , And I must thanke him , though my brother Interest Dislike of it a little . Pal. Hee likes nothing That runs your way . Rut. Troth , and the other cares not . Hee 'll goe his owne way , if he thinke it right . Lad. Hee 's a true friend ! and ther 's Mr. Practise , The fine young man of Law comes to the house : My brother brooks him not , because he thinkes He is by me assigned for my Neice : Hee will not heare of it . Rut. Not of that eare : But yet your Ladiship doth wisely in it — Pal. 'T will make him to lay downe the portion sooner , If he but dreame you 'l march her with a Lawyer . Lad. So Mr. Compasse sayes . It is betweene The Lawyer , and the Courtier , which shall have her . Bal. Who , Sir Diaphanous Silke-worme ? Rut. A fine Gentle-man . Old Mr. Silke-wormes Heire . Pal. And a near Courtier , Of a most elegant thred Lad. And so my Gossip Polish assures me . Here she comes ! good Polish Welcome in troth ! How do'st thou gentle Polish ? Rut. Who 's this ? Pal. Dame Polish , her shee-Parasite , Her talking , soothing , sometime governing Gossip .
ACT. I. SCENE IV. Polish , Lady , Palate , Rut. Pal. Your Ladiship is still the Lady Loadstone That drawes , and drawes unto you , Guests of all sorts : The Courtiers , and the Souldiers , and the Schollers , The Travellers , Physicians , and Divines , As Doctor Ridley writ , and Doctor Barlow ? They both have wrote of you , and Mr. Compasse . Lad. Wee meane , they shall write more , ere it be long . Pol. Alas , they are both dead , and 't please you ; But , Your Ladiship meanes well , and shall meane well , So long as I live . How does your fine Neice ? My charge , Mistris Placentia Steele ? Lad. Shee is not well . Pol. Not well ? Lad. Her Doctor sayes for Rut. Not very well ; shee cannot shoot at Buts . Or manage a great Horse , but shee can cranch A sack of small coale ! eat you lime , and haire , Soap-ashes , Loame , and has a dainty spice O' the greene sicknesse ! Pol. 'Od sheild ! Rut. Or the Dropsie ! A toy , a thing of nothing . But my Lady , here Her noble Aunt . Pol. Shee is a noble Aunt ! And a right worshipfull Lady , and a vertuous ; I know it well ! Rut. Well , if you know it , peace . Pal. Good sister Polish heare your betters speake . Pol. Sir I will speake , with my good Ladies leave , And speake , and speake againe ; I did bring up My Ladies Neice , Mrs. Placentia Steele , With my owne Daughter ( who 's Placentia too ) And waits upon my Lady , is her woman : Her Ladiship well knowes Mrs. Placentia Steele ( as I said ) her curious Neice , was left A Legacie to me ; by Father , and Mother With the Nurse , Keepe , that tended her : her Mother Shee died in Child-bed of her , and her Father Liv'd not long after : for he lov'd her Mother ! They were a godly couple ! yet both di'd , ( As wee must all . ) No creature is immortall ; I have heard our Pastor say ; no , not the faithfull ! And they did die ( as I said ) both in one moneth . Rut.

Sure shee is not long liv'd , if she spend breath thus .

Pol. And did bequeath her , to my care , and hand , To polish , and bring up . I moulded her , And fashion'd her , and form'd her ; she had the sweat Both of my browes and braines . My Lady knowes it Since she could write a quarter old . Lad. I know not That she could write so early , my good Gossip . But I doe know she was so long your care , Till she was twelve yeare old ; that I call'd for her , And tooke her home , for which I thanke you Polish , And am beholden to you . Rut. I sure thought She had a Lease of talking , for nine lives — Pal. It may be she has . Pol. Sir sixteene thousand pound Was then her portion ! for she was , indeed , Their only child ! and this was to be paid Vpon her marriage , so she married still With my good Ladies liking here , her Aunt : ( I heard the Will read ) Mr. Steele her father , The world condemn'd him to be very rich , And very hard , and he did stand condemn'd With that vaine world , till , as 't was ' prov'd , after , He left almost as much more to good uses In Sir Moath Interests hands , my Ladies brother , Whose sister he had married : He holds all In his close gripe . But Mr. Steele , was liberall , And a fine man ; and she a dainty Dame , And a religious , and a bountifull —
ACT I. SCENE V. Compasse , Ironside . To them . You knew her Mr. Compasse ? Com. Spare the torture , I doe confesse without it . Pol. And her husband , What a fine couple they were ? and how they liv'd ? Com.

Yes .

Pol. And lov'd together , like a paire of Turtles ? Com.

Yes .

Pol. And feasted all the Neighbours ? Com. Take her off Some body that hath mercy . Rut. O he knowes her , It seemes ! Com. Or any measure of compassion : Doctors , if you be Christians , undertake One for the soule , the other for the body ! Pol. She would dispute with the Doctors of Divinity At her owne table ! and the Spitle Preachers ! And find out the Armenians . Rut.

The Armenians ?

Pol. I say the Armenians . Com. Nay , I say so too ! Pol. So Mr. Polish calld 'hem , the Armenians ! Com. And Medes , and Persians , did he not ? Pol. Yes , he knew 'hem , And so did Mistris Steele ! she was his Pupill ! The Armenians , he would say , were worse then Papists ! And then the Persians , were our Puritanes , Had the fine piercing wits ! Com. And who , the Medes ? Pol. The midle men , the Luke-warme Protestants ? Rut.

Out , out .

Pol. Sir she would find them by their branching ▪ Their branching sleeves , brancht cassocks , and brancht doctrine , Beside their Texts . Rut. Stint Karlin : I le not heare , Confute her Parson . Pol. I respect no Persons , Chaplins , or Doctors , I will speake . Lad. Yes , so 't be reason , Let her . Rut. Death , she cannot speake reason . Com. Nor sense , if we be Masters of our senses ! Iro . What mad woman ha' they got , here , to bate ? Pol. Sir I am mad , in truth , and to the purpose ; And cannot but be mad ; to heare my Ladies Dead sister sleighted , witty Mrs. Steele ! Iro . If shee had a wit , Death has gone neere to spoile it , Assure your selfe . Pol. She was both witty , and zealous , And lighted all the Tinder o' the truth , ( As one said ) of Religion , in our Parish : Shee was too learn'd to live long with us ! She could the Bible in the holy tongue : And reade it without pricks : had all her Masoreth ; Knew Burton , and his Bull ; and scribe Prin-Gent ! Fraesto-be-gon : and all the Pharisees . Lad. Deare Gossip , Be you gone , at this time , too , and vouchsafe To see your charge , my Neice . Pol. I shall obey If your wise Ladiship thinke fit : I know , To yeild to my Superiors . Lad. A good woman ! But when she is impertinent , growes earnest , A litle troublesome , and out of season : Her love , and zeale transport her . Com. I am glad , That any thing could port her hence . Wee now Have hope of dinner , after her long grace . I have brought your Ladiship a hungry Guest , here , A Souldier , and my brother Captaine Ironside : Who being by custome growne a Sanguinarie , The solemne , and adopted sonne of slaughter : Is more delighted i' the chase of an enemy , An execution of three daies , and nights ; Then all the hope of numerous succession , Or happinesse of Issue could bring to him . Rut. Hee is no Suitor then ? Pal. So 't should seeme . Com. And , if hee can get pardon at heavens hand , For all his murthers , is in as good case As a new christned Infant : ( his imployments Continu'd to him , without Interruption ; And not allowing him , or time , or place To commit any other sinne , but those ) Please you to make him welcome for a meale , Madam . Lad. The noblenesse of his profession makes His welcome perfect : though your course description Would seeme to fully it . Iro . Never , where a beame Of so much favour doth illustrate it , Right knowing Lady . Pal. She hath cur'd all well . Rut. And hee hath fitted well the Complement .
ACT I. SCENE VI. Sir Diaphanous . Practise . To them . Com. No ; here they come ! the prime Magnetick Guests Our Lady Loadstone so respects : the Artick ! And th' Antartick ! Sir Diaphanous Silke-worme ! A Courtier extraordinary ; who by diet Of meates , and drinkes ; his temperate exercise ; Choise musick ; frequent bathes ; his horary shifts Of Shirts and Wast-coats ; meanes to immortalize Mortality it selfe ; and makes the essence Of his whole happinesse the trim of Court . Dia.

I thanke you Mr. Compasse , for your short Encomiastick .

Rut.

It is much in little , Sir .

Pal.

Concise , and quick : the true stile of an Orator .

Com. But Mr. Practise here , my Ladies Lawyer ! Or man of Law : ( for that 's the true writing ) A man so dedicate to his profession , And the preferments goe along with it ; As scarce the thundring bruit of an invasion , Another eighty eight , threatning his Countrey With ruine ; would no more worke upon him , Then Syracusa's Sack , on Archimede : So much he loves that Night-cap ! the Bench-gowne ! With the broad Guard o' th back ! These shew A man betroth'd unto the study of our Lawes ! Pra. Which you but thinke the crafty impositions , Of subtile Clerks , feats of fine understanding , To abuse Clots , and Clownes with , Mr. Compasse , Having no ground in nature , to sustaine it Or light , from those cleare causes : to the inquiry And search of which , your Mathematicall head , Hath so devow'd it selfe . Com. Tut , all men are Philosophers , to their inches . There 's within , Sir Interest , as able a Philosopher , In buying , and selling ! has reduc'd his thrifte , To certaine principles , and i' that method ! As hee will tell you instantly , by Logorythmes , The utmost profit of a stock imployed : ( Be the Commoditie what it will ) the place , Or time , but causing very , very little , Or , I may say , no paralaxe at all , In his pecuniary observations ! He has brought your Neices portion with him , Madam ; At least the man that must receive it ; Here They come negotiating the affaire ; You may perceive the Contract in their faces ; And read th' indenture : If you 'ld signe 'hem . So.
ACT I. SCENE VII . Interest . Bias. To them . Pal. What is he , Mr. Compasse ? Com. A Vi-politique ! Or a sub-aiding Instrument of State ! A kind of a laborious Secretary To a great man ! ( and likely to come on ) Full of attendance ! and of such a stride In busines politique , or oeconomick , As , well , his Lord may stoope t' advise with him , And be prescribed by him , in affaires Of highest consequence , when hee is dull'd , Or wearied with the lesse . Dia. 'T is Mr. Bias , Lord Whach'um's Politique . Com. You know the man ? Dia. I ha' seene him waite at Court , there , with his Maniples Of papers , and petitions . Pra. Hee is one That over-rules tho' , by his authority Of living there ; and cares for no man else : Neglects the sacred letter of the Law ; And holds it all to be but a dead heape , Of civill institutions : the rest only Of common men , and their causes , a farragoe , Or a made dish in Court ; a thing of nothing : Com.

And that 's your quarrell at him ? a just plea.

Int. I tell you sister Loadstone — Com. ( Hang your eares This way : and heare his praises , now Moath opens ) Int. I ha' brought you here the very man ! the Jewell Of all the Court ! close Mr. Bias ! Sister , Apply him to your side ! or you may weare him Here o' your brest ! or hang him in your eare ! He 's a fit Pendant for a Ladies tip ! A Chrisolite , a Gemme : the very Agat Of State , and Politie : cut from the Quar Of Macchiavel , a true Cornelian , As Tacitus himselfe ! and to be made The brooch to any true State-cap in Europe ! Lad. You praise him brother , as you had hope to sell him . Com. No Madam , as hee had hope to sell your Neice Vnto him . Lad. ‛ Ware your true jests , Mr. Compasse ; They will not relish . Int. I will tell you , sister , I cannot cry his Carract up enough : He is unvaluable : All the Lords Have him in that esteeme , for his relations , Corrant's , Avises , Correspondences With this Ambassadour , and that Agent ! Hee Will screw you out a Secret from a Statist — . Com. So easie , as some Cobler wormes a Dog . Int. And lock it in the Cabinet of his memory — . Com. Till 't turne a politique insect , or a Fly ! Thus long . Int. You may be merry Mr. Compasse , But though you have the reversion of an office , You are not in 't Sir . Bia. Remember that . Com. Why , should that fright me ; Mr. Bi — , from telling Whose as you are ? Int. Sir he 's one , can doe His turnes there : and deliver too his letters , As punctually , and in as good a fashion , As ere a Secretary can in Court . Ire. Why , is it any matter in what fashion A man deliver his letters , so he not open 'hem ? Bia. Yes , we have certaine precedents in Court , From which wee never swerve , once in an age : And ( whatsoere he thinkes ) I know the Arts , And Sciences doe not directlier make A Graduate in our Vniversities ; Then an habituall gravitie prefers A man in Court . Com. Which by the truer stile , Some call a formall , flat servility . Bia. Sir you may call it what you please . But wee ( That tread the path of publike businesses ) Know what a tacit shrug is , or a shrinke ; The wearing the Callott ; the politique hood : And twenty other parerga , o' the by , You Seculars understand not : I shall trick him , If his reversion came , i' my Lords way . Dia. What is that Mr. Practise ? you sure know ? Mas ' Compasses reversion ? Pra. A fine place ( Survey or of the Projects generall ) I would I had it . Pal. What is 't worth ? Pra. O Sir , A Nemo scit . Lad. Wee 'l thinke on 't afore dinner . Chorus . BOy .

Now , Gentlemen , what censure you of our Protasis , or first Act ?

Pro.

Well , Boy , it is a faire Presentment of your Actors . And a handsome promise of somewhat to come hereafter .

Dam.

But , there is nothing done in it , or concluded : Therefore I say , no Act.

Boy .

A fine peice of Logick ! Doe you looke , Mr. Damplay , for conclusions in a Protesis ? I thought the Law of Comedy had reserv'd to the Catastrophe : and that the Epitasis , ( as wee are taught ) and the Catastasis , had beene interveening parts , to have beene expected . But you would have all come together it seemes : The Clock should strike five , at once , with the Acts.

Dam.

Why , if it could doe so , it were well , Boy .

Boy .

Yes , if the nature of a Clock were to speake , not strike . So , if a Child could be borne , in a Play , and grow up to a man , i' the first Scene , before hee went off the Stage : and then after to come forth a Squire , and bee made a Knight : and that Knight to travell betweene the Acts , and doe wonders i' the holy land or else where ; kill Paynims wild Boores , dun Cowes , and other Monsters ; beget him a reputation , and marry an Emperours Daughter : for his Mrs. Convert her Fathers Countrey ; and at last come home , lame and all to be laden with miracles .

Dam.

These miracles would please , I assure you : and take the People ! For there be of the People , that will expect miracles , and more then miracles from this Pen.

Boy .

Doe they thinke this Pen can juggle ? I would we had Hokospokos for 'hem then ; your People , or Travitanto Tudesko .

Dam.

Who 's that Boy ?

Boy .

Another Juggler , with a long name . Or that your expectors would be gone hence , now , at the first Act ; or expect no more hereafter , then they understand .

Dam.

Why so my peremptory Jack ?

Boy .

My name is Iohn , indeed — Because , who expect what is impossible , or beyond nature , defraud themselves .

Pro.

Nay , there the Boy said well : They doe defraud themselves indeed .

Boy .

And therefore , Mr. Damplay , unlesse like a solemne Justice of wit , you will damne our Play , unheard , or unexamin'd ; I shall intreat your Mrs. Madam Expectation , if shee be among these Ladies , to have patience , but a pissing while : give our Springs leave to open a little , by degrees : A Source of ridiculous matter may breake forth anon , that shall steepe their temples , and bathe their braines in laughter , to the fomenting of Stupiditie it selfe , and the awaking any velvet Lethargy in the House .

Pro.

Why doe you maintaine your Poëts quarrell so with velvet , and good clothes , Boy ? wee have seene him in indifferent good clothes , ere now .

Boy .

And may doe in better , if it please the King ( his Master ) to say Amen to it , and allow it , to whom hee acknowledgeth all . But his clothes shall never be the best thing about him , though ; hee will have somewhat beside , either of humane letters , or severe honesty , shall speak him a man though he went naked .

Pro.

Hee is beholden to you , if you can make this good , Boy .

Boy .

Himselfe hath done that , already , against Envy .

Dam.

What 's your name Sir ? or your Countrey ?

Boy .

Iohn Try-gust my name : A Cornish youth , and the Poëts Servant .

Dam.

West-countrey breed , I thought , you were so bold .

Boy .

Or rather sawcy : to find out your palate , Mr. Damplay , Faith we doe call a Spade , a Spade , in Cornewall . If you dare damne our Play , i' the wrong place , we shall take heart to tell you so .

Pro.

Good Boy .

ACT II.
SCENE I. Keepe . Placentia . Pleasance . Kee. SWeet Mistris , pray you be merry : you are sure To have a husband now . Pla. I , if the store Hurt not the choise . Ple. Store is no sore , young Mistris , My mother is wont to say . Keep . And shee 'l say wisely , As any mouth i' the Parish . Fixe on one , Fixe upon one , good Mistris . Pla. At this call , too , Here 's Mr. Practise , who is call'd to the Bench Of purpose . Kee. Yes , and by my Ladies meanes — Ple. 'T is thought to be the man . Kee. A Lawyers wife . Ple. And a fine Lawyers wife . Kee. Is a brave calling . Ple. Sweet Mistris Practise ! Kee. Gentle Mistris Practise ! Ple. Faire , open Mistris Practise ! Kee. I , and close , And cunning Mrs. Practise ! Pla. I not like that , The Courtiers is the neater calling . Ple. Yes , My Lady Silke-worme . Kee. And to shine in Plush . Ple. Like a young night Crow , a Diaphanous Silkeworme . Kee. Lady Diaphanous sounds most delicate ! Ple. Which would you choose , now Mistris ? Pla. Cannot tell . The copie does confound one . Ple. Here 's my Mother .
ACT II. SCENE II. Polish . Keepe . Placentia . Pleasance . Needle . Pol. How now , my dainty charge , and diligent Nurse ? What were you chanting on ? ( To her daughter kneeling . God blesse you Maiden . ) Kee. Wee were inchanting all ; wishing a husband For my young Mistris here . A man to please her . Pol. Shee shall have a man , good Nurse , and must have a man : A man , and a halfe , if wee can choose him out : We are all in Counsell within , and sit about it : The Doctors , and the Schollers , and my Lady ; Who 's wiser then all us — . Where 's Mr. Needle ? Her Ladiship so lacks him to prick out The man ? How does my sweet young Mistris ? You looke not well , me thinkes ! how doe you , deare charge ? You must have a husband , and you shall have a husband ; There 's two put out to making for you : A third , Your Vncle promises : But you must still Be rul'd by your Aunt : according to the will Of your dead father , and mother ( who are in heaven . ) Your Lady-Aunt has choise i' the house for you : Wee doe not trust your Vncle ; hee would keepe you A Batchler still , by keeping of your portion : And keepe you not alone without a husband , But in a sicknesse : I , and the greene sicknesse , The Maidens malady ; which is a sicknesse : A kind of a disease , I can assure you , And like the Fish our Mariners call remora — . Kee. A remora Mistris ! Pol. How now goody Nurse ? Dame Keepe of Katernes ? what ? have you an oare I' the Cockboat , 'cause you are a Saylors wife ? And come from Shadwell ? I say a remora : For it will stay a Ship , that 's under Saile ! And staies are long , and tedious things to Maids ! And maidens are young ships , that would be sailing , When they be rigg'd : wherefore is all their trim else ? Nee. True ; and for them to be staid — . Pol. The stay is dangerous : You know it Mrs. Needle . Nee. I know somewhat : And can assure you , from the Doctors mouth , Shee has a Dropsie ; and must change the ayre , Before she can recover . Pol. Say you so , Sir ? Nee. The Doctor saies so . Pol. Sayes his worship so ? I warrant 'hem he sayes true , then ; they sometimes Are Sooth-sayers , and alwayes cunning men . Which Doctor was it ? Nee. Eeene my Ladies Doctor : The neat house-Doctor : But a true stone-Doctor . Pol. Why ? heare you , Nurse ? How comes this geare to passe ? This is your fault in truth : It shall be your fault , And must be your fault : why is your Mistris sicke ? Shee had her health , the while shee was with me . Kee. Alas good Mistris Polish , I am no Saint , Much lesse , my Lady , to be urg'd give health , Or sicknesse at my will : but to awaite The starres good pleasure , and to doe my duty . Pol. You must doe more then your dutie , foolish Nurse : You must doe all you can ; and more then you can , More then is possible : when folkes are sick , Especially , a Mistris ; a young Mistris . Kee. Here 's Mr. Doctor himselfe , cannot doe that Pol. Doctor Doo-all can doe it . Thence he 's call'd so .
ACT II. SCENE III. Rut. Polish . Lady . Keepe . Placentia . Rut. Whence ? what 's hee call'd ? Pol. Doctor , doe all you can , I pray you , and beseech you , for my charge , here . Lad. She 's my tendring Gossip , loves my Neice . Pol. I know you can doe all things , what you please , Sir , For a young Damsel , my good Ladies Neice , here ! You can doe what you list . Rut. Peace Tiffany . Pol. Especially in this new case , o' the Dropsie . The Gentlewoman ( I doe feare ) is leven'd . Rut. Leven'd ? what 's that ? Pol. Puft , blowne , and 't please your worship . Rut. What! Darke , by darker ? What is blowne ? puff'd ? speake English — Pol. Tainted ( and 't please you ) some doe call it . She swels , and swels so with it . — Rut. Give her vent , If shee doe swell . A Gimblet must be had : It is a Tympanites she is troubled with ; There are three kinds : The first is Ana-sarca Vnder the Flesh , a Tumor : that 's not hers . The second is Ascites , or Aquosus , A watry humour : that 's not hers neither . But Tympanites ( which we call the Drum ) A wind bombes in her belly , must be unbrac'd , And with a Faucet , or a Peg , let out , And she 'll doe well : get her a husband . Pol.

Yes ,

I say so Mr. Doctor , and betimes too . Lad. As Soone as wee can : let her beare up to day , Laugh , and keepe company , at Gleeke , or Crimpe . Pol. Your Ladiship sayes right , Crimpe , sure , will cure her . Rut. Yes , and Gleeke too ; peace Gossip Tittle-Tattle , Shee must to morrow , downe into the Countrey , Some twenty mile ; A Coach , and six brave Horses : Take the fresh aire , a moneth there , or five weekes : And then returne a Bride , up to the Towne , For any husband i' the Hemisphere , To chuck at ; when she has dropt her Timpane . Pol. Must she then drop it ? Rut. Thence , 't is call'd a Dropsie . The Timpanites is one spice of it ; A toy , a thing of nothing , a meere vapour : I le blow 't away . Lad. Needle , get you the Coach Ready , against to morrow morning . Nee. Yes Madam . Lad. I le downe with her my selfe , and thanke the Doctor . Pol. Wee all shall thanke him . But , deare Madam , thinke , Resolve upon a man , this day . Lad. I ha' done 't . To tell you true , ( sweet Gossip ; ) here is none But Master Doctor , hee shall be o' the Counsell : The man I have design'd her to , indeed , Is Master Practise : he 's a neat young man , Forward , and growing up , in a profession ! Like to be some body , if the Hall stand ! And Pleading hold ! A prime young Lawyers wife , Is a right happy fortune . Rut. And shee bringing So plentifull a portion , they may live Like King , and Queene , at common Law together ! Sway Judges ; guide the Courts ; command the Clarkes , And fright the Evidence ; rule at their pleasures , Like petty Soveraignes in all cases . Pol. O , that Will be a worke of time ; she may be old Before her husband rise to a chiefe Judge ; And all her flower be gone : No , no , a Lady O' the first head I 'ld have her ; and in Court : The Lady Silk-worme , a Diaphanous Lady : And be a Vi-countesse to carry all Before her ( as wee say ) her Gentleman-usher : And cast off Pages , bare , to bid her Aunt Welcome unto her honour , at her lodgings . Rut. You say well , Ladies Gossip ; if my Lady Could admit that , to have her Neice precede her . Lad. For that , I must consult mine owne Ambition , My zealous Gossip . Pol. O , you shall precede her : You shall be a Countesse ! Sir Diaphanous , Shall get you made a Countesse ! Here he comes ; Has my voice certaine : O fine Courtier ! O blessed man ! the bravery prick't out , To make my dainty charge , a Vi-countesse ! And my good Lady , her Aunt , Countesse at large !
ACT II. SCENE IIII. Diaphanous . Palate . To them . Dia. I tell thee Parson , if I get her , reckon Thou hast a friend in Court ; and shalt command A thousand pound , to goe on any errand , For any Church preferment thou hast a mind too . Pal. I thanke your worship : I will so worke for you , As you shall study all the wayes to thanke me : I le worke my Lady , and my Ladies friends ; Her Gossip , and this Doctor ; and Squire Needle , And Mr. Compasse , who is all in all : The very Fly shee moves by : Hee is one That went to Sea with her husband , Sir Iohn Loadstone , And brought home the rich prizes : all that wealth Is left her ; for which service she respects him : A dainty Scholler in the Mathematicks ; And one shee wholly imployes . Now Dominus Practise Is yet the man ( appointed by her Ladiship ) But there 's a trick to set his cap awry : If I know any thing ; hee hath confest To me in private , that hee loves another , My Ladies woman , Mrs. Pleasance : therefore Secure you of Rivalship . Dia. I thanke thee My noble Parson : There 's five hundred pound Waites on thee more for that . Pal. Accoast the Neice : Yonder shee walkes alone : I le move the Aunt : But here 's the Gossip : shee expects a morsell . Ha' you nere a Ring , or toy to throw away ? Dia. Yes , here 's a Diamont of some threescore pound , I pray you give her that . Pal. If shee will take it . Dia. And there 's an Emerauld , for the Doctor too : Thou Parson , thou shalt coine me : I am thine . Pal. Here Mr. Compasse comes : Doe you see my Lady ? And all the rest ? how they doe flutter about him ! Hee is the Oracle of the house , and family ! Now , is your time : goe nick it with the Neice : I will walke by ; and hearken how the Chimes goe .
ACT II. SCENE V. Compasse . To them . Com. Nay Parson , stand not off ; you may approach : This is no such hid point of State , wee handle , But you may heare it : for wee are all of Counsell . The gentle Mr. Practise , hath dealt clearly , And nobly with you , Madam . Lad. Ha' you talk'd with him ? And made the overture ? Com. Yes , first I mov'd The busines trusted to me , by your Ladiship , I' your owne words , almost your very Sillabes : Save where my Memory trespass'd 'gainst their elegance : For which I hope your pardon . Then I inlarg'd In my owne homely stile , the speciall goodnesse , And greatnesse , of your bounty , in your choice , And free conferring of a benefit , So without ends , conditions , any tye But his meere vertue , and the value of it , To call him to your kindred , to your veines , Insert him in your family , and to make him A Nephew , by the offer of a Neice , With such a portion ; which when hee had heard , And most maturely acknowledg'd ( as his calling Tends all unto maturity ) he return'd A thankes , as ample as the Curtesie , ( In my opinion ) said it was a Grace , Too great to be rejected , or accepted By him ! But as the termes stood with his fortune , Hee was not to prevaricate , with your Ladiship , But rather to require ingenious leave , He might with the same love , that it was offer'd Refuse it , since he could not with his honesty , ( Being he was ingag'd before ) receive it . Pal. The same he said to me . Com. And name the party . Pal. He did , and he did not . Com. Come , leave your Schemes , And fine Amphibolies , Parson . Pal. You 'l heare more . Pol. Why , now your Ladiship is free to choose , The Courtier Sir Diaphanous : he shall doe it , I le move it to him my selfe . Lad. What will you move to him ? Pol. The making you a Countesse . Lad. Stint , fond woman . Know you the partie Mr. Practise meanes ? To Compasse . Com. No , but your Parson sayes he knowes , Madam . Lad. I feare he fables ; Parson doe you know Where Mr. Practise is ingag'd ? Pal. I le tell you ! But under seale , her Mother must not know : 'T is with your Ladiships woman , Mrs. Pleasance . Com. How ! Lad. Hee is not mad . Pal. O hide the hideous secret From her , shee 'l trouble all else . You doe hold A Cricket by the wing . Com. Did he name Pleasance ? Are you sure Parson ? Lad. O 't is true , your Mrs ! I find where your shooe wrings you , Mr. Compasse : But , you 'l looke to him there . Com. Yes , here 's Sir Moath , Your brother , with his Bias , and the Partie Deepe in discourse : 't will be a bargaine , and sale ; I see by their close working of their heads , And running them together so in Councell . Lad. Will Mr. Practise be of Councell against us ? Com. He is a Lawyer , and must speake for his Fee , Against his Father , and Mother , all his kindred ; His brothers , or his sisters : no exception Lies at the Common-Law . He must not alter Nature for forme , but goe on in his path — It may be he will be for us . Doe not you Offer to meddle , let them take their course : Dispatch , and marry her off to any husband ; Be not you scrupulous ; let who can have her : So he lay downe the portion , though he gueld it : It will maintaine the suit against him : somewhat , Something in hand is better , then no birds . He shall at last accompt , for the utmost farthing , If you can keepe your hand from a discharge . Pol. Sir , doe but make her worshipfull Aunt a Countesse , And she is yours : her Aunt has worlds to leave you ! The wealth of six East Indian Fleets at least ! Her Husband , Sir Iohn Loadstone , was the Governour O' the Company . seven yeares . Dia. And came there home , Six Fleets in seven yeares ? Pol. I cannot tell , I must attend my Gossip , her good Ladiship . Pla. And will you make me a Vi-countesse too ? For , How doe they make a Countesse ? in a Chaire ? Or 'pon a bed ? Dia. Both wayes , sweet bird , I le shew you .
ACT II. SCENE VI. Interest . Practise . Bias. Compasse . Palate . Rut. Ironside . To them . Int. The truth is , Mr. Practise , now wee are sure That you are off , we dare come on the bolder : The portion left , was sixteene thousand pound , I doe confesse it , as a just man should . And call here Mr. Compasse , with these Gentlemen , To the relation : I will still be just . Now for the profits every way arising , It was the Donors wisedome , those should pay Me for my watch , and breaking of my sleepes ; It is no petty charge , you know , that summe ; To keepe a man awake , for fourteene yeare . Pra. But ( as you knew to use it i' that time ) It would reward your waking . Int. That 's my industry ; As it might be your reading , studie , and counsell ; And now your pleading , who denies it you ? I have my calling too . Well , Sir , the Contract Is with this Gentleman , ten thousand pound . ( An ample portion , for a younger brother , With a soft , tender , delicate rib of mans flesh , That he may worke like waxe , and print upon . ) He expects no more then that summe to be tendred , And hee receive it : Those are the conditions . Pra.

A direct bargaine , and sale in open market .

Int. And what I have furnish'd him with all o' the by , To appeare , or so : A matter of foure hundred , To be deduc'd upo' the payment — . Bia. Right . You deale like a just man still . Int. Draw up this Good Mr. Practise , for us , and be speedy . Pra. But here 's a mighty gaine Sir , you have made Of this one stock ! the principall first doubled , In the first seven yeare ; and that redoubled I' the next seven ! beside sixe thousand pound , There 's threescore thousand got in fourteene yeare , After the usuall rate of ten i' the hundred , And the ten thousand paid . Int.

I thinke it be !

Pra.

How will you scape the clamour , and the envie ?

Int. Let 'hem exclaime , and envie : what care I ? Their murmurs raise no blisters i' my flesh . My monies are my blood , my parents , kindred : And he that loves not those , he is unnaturall : I am perswaded that the love of monie Is not a vertue , only in a Subject , But might befit a Prince . And ( were there need ) I find me able to make good the Assertion . To any reasonable mans understanding . And make him to confesse it . Com. Gentlemen , Doctors , and Schollers , yo 'll heare this , and looke for As much true secular wit , and deepe Lay-sense , As can be showne on such a common place . Int. First , wee all know the soule of man is infinite I what it covets . Who desireth knowledge , Desires it infinitely . Who covets honour , Covets it infinitely , It will be then No hard thing , for a coveting man , to prove Or to confesse , hee aimes at infinite wealth . Com.

His soule lying that way .

Int. Next , every man Is i' the hope , or possibility Of a whole world : this present world being nothing , But the dispersed issue of first one : And therefore I not see , but a just man May with just reason , and in office ought Propound unto himselfe . Com. An infinite wealth ! He beare the burden : Goe you on Sir Moath . Int. Thirdly , if wee consider man a member , But of the body politique , we know , By just experience , that the Prince hath need More of one wealthy , then ten fighting men . Com.

There you went out o' the road , a little from us .

Int. And therefore , if the Princes aimes be infinite , It must be in that , which makes all . Com.

Infinite wealth .

Int. Fourthly , 't is naturall to all good subjects , To set a price on money ; more then fooles Ought on their Mrs. Picture ; every piece Fro' the penny to the twelve pence , being the Hieroglyphick , And sacred Sculpture of the Soveraigne . Com.

A manifest conclusion , and a safe one .

Int. Fiftly , wealth gives a man the leading voice , At all conventions ; and displaceth worth , With generall allowance to all parties : It makes a trade to take the wall of vertue ; And the mere issue of a shop , right Honourable . Sixtly , it doth inable him that hath it To the performance of all reall actions , Referring him to himselfe still : and not binding His will to any circumstance ; without him ; It gives him precise knowledge of himselfe ; For , be he rich , he straight with evidence knowes Whether he have any compassion , Or inclination unto vertue , or no ; Where the poore knave erroniously beleeves , If he were rich , he would build Churches , or Doe such mad things . Seventhly , your wise poore men Have ever beene contented to observe Rich Fooles , and so to serve their turnes upon them : Subjecting all their wit to the others wealth . And become Gentlemen Parasites , Squire Bauds , To feed their Patrons honorable humors . Eightly , 't is certaine that a man may leave His wealth , or to his Children , or his friends ; His wit hee cannot so dispose , by Legacie ? As they shall be a Harrington the better for 't . Com. He may intaile a Jest upon his house , though : Enter Ironside . Or leave a tale to his posteritie , To be told after him . Iro . As you have done here ? T' invite your friend , and brother to a feast , Where all the Guests are so mere heterogene , And strangers , no man knowes another , or cares If they be Christians , or Mahumetans ! That here are met . Com. Is' t any thing to you brother , To know Religions more then those you fight for ? Iro . Yes , and with whom I eat . I may dispute , And how shall I hold argument with such , I neither know their humors , nor their heresies ; Which are religions now , and so receiv'd ? Here 's no man among these that keepes a servant , To'inquire his Master of : yet i' the house , I heare it buzz'd , there are a brace of Doctors ; A Foole , and a Physician : with a Courtier , That feeds on mulbery leaves , like a true Silkeworme : A Lawyer , and a mighty Money-Baud , Sir Moath ! has brought his politique Bias with him : A man of a most animadverting humor : Who , to indeare himselfe unto his Lord , Will tell him , you and I , or any of us , That here are met , are all pernitious spirits , And men of pestilent purpose , meanely affected Vnto the State wee live in : and beget Himselfe a thankes , with the great men o' the time , By breeding Jealouses in them of us , Shall crosse our fortunes , frustrate our endeavours , Twice seven yeares after : And this trick be call'd Cutting of throats , with a whispering , or a pen-knife . I must cut his throat now : I 'am bound in honour , And by the Law of armes , to see it done ; I dare to doe it ; and I dare professe The doing of it : being to such a Raskall , Who is the common offence growne of man-kind ; And worthy to be torne up from society . Com.

You shall not doe it here , Sir .

Iro . Why ? will you Intreat your selfe , into a beating for him , My courteous brother ? If you will , have at you , No man deserves it better ( now I thinke on 't ) Then you : that will keepe consort with such Fidlers , Pragmatick Flies , Fooles , Publicanes , and Moathes : And leave your honest , and adopted brother . Int. ‛ Best raise the house upon him , to secure us ; Hee 'll kill us all ! Pal.

I love no blades in belts .

Rut.

Nor I.

Bia. Would I were at my shop againe , In Court , safe stow'd up , with my politique bundels . Com. How they are scatter'd ! Iro . Run away like Cimici , Into the cranies of a rotten bed-stead . Com. I told you such a passage would disperse 'hem , Although the house were their Fee-simple in Law , And they possest of all the blessings in it . Iro . Pray heaven they be not frighted from their stomacks : That so my Ladies Table be disfurnish'd Of the provisions ! Com. No , the Parsons calling By this time , all the covey againe , together . Here comes good tydings ! Dinners o' the boord .
ACT II. SCENE VII . Compasse . Pleasance . Com. Stay Mrs. Pleasance , I must aske you a question : Ha' you any suites in Law ? Ple. I , Mr. Compasse ? Com. Answer me briefly , it is dinner time . They say you have retain'd brisk Mr. Practise Here , of your Councell ; and are to be joyn'd A Patentee with him . Ple. In what ? who sayes so ? You are dispos'd to jest . Com. No , I am in earnest . It is given out i' the house so , I assure you ; But keepe your right to your selfe , and not acquaint A common Lawyer with your case . If hee Once find the gap ; a thousand will leape after . I le tell you more anone . Ple. This Riddle shewes A little like a Love-trick , o' one face , If I could understand it . I will studie it . Chorus . Dam.

But whom doth your Poët meane now by this — Mr. Bias ? what Lords Secretary , doth hee purpose to personate , or perstringe ?

Boy .

You might as well aske mee , what Alderman , or Aldermans Mate , hee meant by Sir Moath Interest ? or what eminent Lawyer , by the ridiculous Mr. Practise ? who hath rather his name invented for laughter , then any offence , or injury it can stick on the reverend Professors of the Law : And so the wise ones will thinke .

Pro.

It is an insidious Question , Brother Damplay ! Iniquity it selfe would not have urg'd it . It is picking the Lock of the Scene ; not opening it the faire way with a Key . A Play , though it apparell , and present vices in generall , flies from all particularities in persons . Would you aske of Plantus , and Terence , ( if they both liv'd now ) who were Davus , or Pseudolus in the Scene ? who Pyrgopolinices , or Thraso ? who Euclio or Menedemus ?

Boy .

Yes , he would : And inquire of Martial , or any other Epigrammatist , whom he meant by Titius , or Seius ( the common John à Noke , or Iohn à Style ) under whom they note all vices , and errors taxable to the Times ? As if there could not bee a name for a Folly fitted to the Stage , but there must be a person in nature , found out to owne it .

Dam.

Why , I can phant'sie a person to my selfe Boy , who shall hinder me ?

Boy .

And , in not publishing him , you doe no man an injury . But if you will utter your owne ill meaning on that person , under the Authors words , you make a Libell of his Comoedy .

Dam.

O , hee told us that in a Prologue , long since .

Boy .

If you doe the same reprehensible ill things , still the same reprehension will serve you , though you heard it afore : They are his owne words . I can invent no better , nor he .

Pro.

It is the solemne vice of interpretation , that deformes the figure of many a faire Scene , by drawing it awry ; and indeed is the civill murder of most good Playes : If I see a thing vively presented on the Stage , that the Glasse of custome ( which is Comedy ) is so held up to me , by the Poet , as I can therein view the daily examples of mens lives , and images of Truth , in their manners , so drawne for my delight , or profit , as I may ( either way ) use them : and will I , rather ( then make that true use ) hunt out the Persons to defame , by my malice of misapplying ? and imperill the innocence , and candor of the Author , by his calumnie ? It is an unjust way of hearing , and beholding Playes , this , and most unbecomming a Gentleman to appeare malignantly witty in anothers Worke.

Boy .

They are no other but narrow , and shrunke natures ; shriveld up , poore things , that cannot thinke well of themselves , who dare to detract others . That Signature is upon them , and it will last . A halfe-witted Barbarisme ! which no Barbers art , or his bals , will ever expunge or take out .

Dam.

Why , Boy ? This were a strange Empire , or rather a Tyrannie , you would entitle your Poet to , over Gentlemen , that they should come to heare , and see Playes , and say nothing for their money .

Boy .

O , yes ; say what you will : so it be to purpose , and in place .

Dam.

Can any thing be out of purpose at a Play ? I see no reason , if I come here , and give my eighteene pence , or two shillings for my Seat , but I should take it out in censure , on the Stage .

Boy .

Your two shilling worth is allow'd you : but you will take your ten , shilling worth , your twenty shilling worth , and more : And teach others ( about you ) to doe the like , that follow your leading face ; as if you were to cry up or downe every Scene , by confederacy , be it right or wrong .

Dam.

Who should teach us the right , or wrong at a Play ?

Boy .

If your owne science can not doe it , or the love of Modesty , and Truth ; all other intreaties , or attempts — are vaine . You are fitter Spectators for the Beares , then us , or the Puppets . This is a popular ignorance indeed , somewhat better appareld in you , then the People : but a hard handed , and stiffe ignorance , worthy a Trewel , or a Hammer-man ; and not onely fit to be scorn'd , but to be triumph'd ore .

Dam.

By whom , Boy ?

Boy .

No particular , but the generall neglect , and silence . Good Master Damplay , be your selfe still , without a second : Few here are of your opinion to day , I hope ; to morrow , I am sure there will bee none , when they have ruminated this .

Pro.

Let us mind what you come for , the play , which will draw on to the Epitasis now .

ACT III.
SCENE I. Item . Needle . Keepe . Pleasance . Item . WHere 's Mr. Doctor ? Nee. O Mr. Tim Item , His learned Pothecary ! you are welcome : He is within at dinner . Ite . Dinner ! Death ! That hee will eat now , having such a busines , That so concernes him ! Nee. Why , can any busines Concerne a man like his meat ? Ite . O twenty millions , To a Physician , that 's in practise : I Doe bring him newes , from all the points o' the Compasse , ( That 's all the parts of the sublunary Globe . ) Of times , and double times . Nee. In , in , sweet Item , And furnish forth the Table with your newes : Deserve your dinner : Sow out your whole bag full : The Guests will heare it . Item .

I heard they were out .

Nee. But they are piec'd , and put together againe , You may goe in , you 'l find them at high eating : The Parson has an edifying stomack , And a perswading Palate ( like his name : ) Hee hath begun three draughts of sack in Doctrines , And fower in Uses . Ite .

And they follow him .

Nee. No , Sir Diaphanous is a Recusant In sack . He onely takes it in French wine , With an allay of water . In in , Item , And leave your peeping . Kee. I have a moneths mind , To peepe a little too . Sweet Mas ' Needle , How are they set ? Nee.

At the boords end my Lady — .

Kee. And my young Mrs. by her ? Nee. Yes , the Parson On the right hand ( as hee 'l not lose his place For thrusting ) and 'gainst him Mrs. Polish : Next , Sir Diaphanous , against Sir Moath ; Knights , one againe another : Then the Souldier , The man of warre , and man of peace the Lawyer : Then the port Doctor , and the politique Bias , And Mr. Compasse circumscribeth all . Ple. Nurse Keepe , nurse Keepe ! Nee. What noise is that within ? Ple.

A noise within . Come to my Mistris , all their weapons are out .

Nee. Mischiefe of men ! what day , what houre is this ? Kee.

Run for the cellar of strong waters , quickly .

ACT III. SCENE II. Compasse . Ironside . To them after . Com. Were you a mad man to doe this at table ? And trouble all the Guests , to affright the Ladies , And Gentlewomen ? Iro . Pox upo' your women , And your halfe man there , Court-Sir Amber-gris : A perfum'd braggart : He must drinke his wine With three parts water ; and have Amber in that too . Com. And you must therefore breake his face with a Glasse , And wash his nose in wine . Iro . Cannot he drinke In Orthodoxe , but he must have his Gums , And Panym Drugs ? Com. You should have us'd the Glasse Rather as ballance , then the sword of Justice : But you have cut his face with it , he bleeds . Come you shall take your Sanctuary with me ; The whole house will be up in armes 'gainst you else , Within this halfe houre ; this way to my lodging . Rut. Lady . Polish . Keepe , carrying Placentia over the Stage . Pleasance . Item . Rut. A most rude action ! carry her to her bed ; And use the Fricace to her , with those oyles . Keepe your newes Item now , and tend this busines . Lad.

Good Gossip looke to her .

Pol. How doe you sweet charge ? Kee.

She 's in a sweat .

Pol.

I , and a faint sweat mary .

Rut. Let her alone to Tim: he has directions , I le heare your newes Tim Item , when you ha' done . Lad. Was ever such a Guest brought to my table ? Rut. These boistrous Souldiers ha' no better breeding . Here Mr. Compasse comes : where 's your Captaine , Rudhudibr as de Ironside ? Com.

Gone out of doores .

Lad. Would he had nere come in them , I may wish . He has discredited my house , and boord , With his rude swaggering manners , and endanger'd My Neices health ( by drawing of his weapon ) God knowes how farre ; for Mr. Doctor does not . Com. The Doctor is an Asse then , if hee say so , And cannot with his conjuring names , Hippocrates ; Galen or Rasis , Avicen . Averroes , Cure a poore wenches falling in a swoune : Which a poore Farthing chang'd in Rosa solis , Or Cynnamon water would . Lad. How now ? how does she ? Kee. Shee 's somewhat better . Mr. Item has brought her A little about . Pol. But there 's Sir Moath your brother Is falne into a fit o' the happyplexe , It were a happy place for him , and us , If he could steale to heaven thus : All the house Are calling Mr. Doctor , Mr. Doctor . The Parson he has gi'n him gone , this halfe houre ; Hee 's pale in the mouth already , for the feare O' the fierce Captaine . Lad. Helpe me to my Chamber , Nurse Keepe : Would I could see the day no more , But night hung over me , like some darke cloud ; That , buried with this losse of my good name , I , and my house might perish , thus forgotten — Com. Her taking it to heart thus , more afflicts me Then all these accidents , for they 'll blow over .
ACT III. SCENE III. Practise . Silkworme . Compasse . Pra. It was a barbarous Injury , I confesse : But if you will be counsell'd , Sir , by me , The reverend Law lies open to repaire Your reputation . That will gi' you damages ; Five thousand pound for a finger , I have knowne Given in Court : And let me pack your Jury . Silk . There 's nothing vexes me , but that he has staind My new white sattin Doublet ; and bespatter'd My spick and span silke Stockings , o' the day They were drawne on : And here 's a spot i' my hose too . Com. Shrewd maimes ! your Clothes are wounded desperately , And that ( I thinke ) troubles a Courtier more , An exact Courtier , then a gash in his flesh . Silk . My flesh ? I sweare had he giv'n me twice so much , I never should ha' reckon'd it . But my clothes To be de defac'd , and stigmatiz'd so foulely ! I take it as a contumely done me Above the wisedome of our Lawes to right . Com. Why then you 'l challenge him ? Silk . I will advise , Though Mr. Practise here doth urge the Law ; And reputation it will make me of credit , Beside great damages ( let him pack my Jury . ) Com. He speakes like Mr. Practise , one , that is The Child of a Profession he 's vow'd too , And servant to the studie he hath taken , A pure Apprentice at Law ! But you must have The Counsell o' the Sword ; and square your action Vnto their Cannons , and that brother-hood , If you doe right . Pra. I tell you Mr. Compasse , You speake not like a friend unto the Lawes , Nor scarce a subject , to perswade him thus , Vnto the breach o' the peace : Sir you forget There is a Court above , o' the Starre-Chamber , To punish Routs and Riots . Com. No , young Master , Although your name be Practise there in Terme time , I doe remember it . But you 'l not heare What I was bound to say ; but like a wild Young haggard Justice , fly at breach o' the Peace , Before you know , whether the amorous Knight Dares break the peace of conscience in a Duell . Silk . Troth Mr. Compasse , I take you my friend ; You shall appoint of me in any matter That 's reasonable , so wee may meet faire , On even termes . Com. I shall perswade no other , ( And take your learned Counsell to advise you ) I le run along with him . You say you 'l meet him , On even termes . I doe not see indeed How that can be , 'twixt Ironside and you , Now I consider it . Hee is my brother . I doe confesse ( wee ha' call'd so twenty yeare : ) But you are , Sir , a Knight in Court , allied there , And so befriended , you may easily answer The worst successe : He a knowne , noted , bold Boy o' the Sword , hath all mens eyes upon him ; And there 's no London-Iury , but are led In evidence , as farre by common fame , As they are by present deposition . Then you have many brethren , and neer kinsmen . If he kill you , it will be a lasting Quarrell T'wixt them , and him . Whereas Rud : Ironside , Although he ha' got his head into a Beaver , With a huge feather , 's but a Corriers sonne , And has not two old Cordov'an skins , to leave In Leather Caps to mourne him in , if he die . Againe , you are generally belov'd , he hated So much , that all the hearts , and votes of men Goe with you , in the wishing all prosperity Vnto your purpose ; hee 's a fat , corpulent , Vnweildy fellow : you , a dieted Sparke , Fit for the Combat . He has kild so many ; As it is ten to one his turne is next ; You never fought with any ; lesse , slew any : And therefore have the hopes before you . I hope these things thus specified unto you , Are faire advantages : you cannot encounter Him upon equall termes . Beside , Sir Silkworme , He hath done you wrong in a most high degree : And sense of such an Injury receiv'd , Should so exacuate , and whet your choller , As you should count your selfe an host of men , Compar'd to him . And therefore you , brave Sir , Have no more reason to provoke , or challenge Him , then the huge great Porter has to try His strength upon an Infant . Silke . Mr. Compasse , You rather spur me on , then any way Abate my courage to the Enterprise . Com. All Counsell's as it 's taken . If you stand On point of honour , not t' have any odds , I have rather then disswaded you , then otherwise : If upon termes of humour and revenge , I have encourag'd you . So that I thinke , I have done the part of a friend on either side : In furnishing your feare with matter first , If you have any : Or , if you dare fight , To heighten , and confirme your resolution . Pra. I now doe crave your pardon , Mr. Compasse : I did not apprehend your way before , The true Perimiter of it : you have Circles , And such fine draughts about ! Silke . Sir I doe thanke you , I thanke you Mr. Compasse heartily ; I must confesse , I never fought before , And I 'll be glad to doe things orderly , In the right place : I pray you instruct me . Is' t best I fight ambitiously , or malitiously ? Com. Sir , if you never fought before , be wary , Trust not your selfe too much . Silke . Why ? I assure you , I 'am very angry . Com. Doe not suffer , though , The flatuous , windy choller of your heart , To move the clapper of your understanding , Which is the guiding faculty , your reason : You know not , if you 'l fight , or no , being brought Vpo' the place . Silke . O yes , I have imagin'd Him treble arm'd , provok'd too , and as furious As Homer makes Achilles ; and I find My selfe not frighted with his same one jot . Com. Well , yet take heed . These fights imaginary , Are lesse then skirmishes ; the fight of shadowes : For shadowes have their figure , motion And their umbratile action from the reall Posture , and motion of the bodies act Whereas ( imaginarily ) many times , Those men may fight , dare scarce eye one another , And much lesse meet . But if there be no helpe , Faith I would wish you , send him a faire Challenge . Silk . I will goe pen it presently . Com. But word it In the most generous termes . Silk . Let me alone . Pra. And silken phrase : the courtliest kind of Quarrell . Com. He 'l make it a petition for his peace . Pra. O , yes , of right , and hee may doe it by Lau.
ACT III. SCENE IV. Rut. Palate . Bias , bringing out Interest in a Chaire . Item . Polish following . Rut. Come , bring him out into the aire a little : There set him downe . Bow him , yet bow him more , Dash that same Glasse of water in his face : Now tweak him by the nose . Hard , harder yet : If it but call the blood up from the heart , I aske no more . See , what a feare can doe ! Pinch him in the nape of the neck now ; nip him , nip him . Ite . He feeles , there 's life in him . Pal. He graones , and stirres . Rut. Tell him the Captaine 's gone . Int. Ha! Pal. He 's gone Sir . Rut. Gi' him a box , hard , hard , on his left care . Int. O! Rut. How doe you feele your selfe ? Int. Sore , sore . Rut. But where ? Int. I' my neck . Rut. I nipt him there . Int. And i' my head . Rut. I box'd him twice , or thrice , to move those Sinewes . Bia. I sweare you did . Pol. What a brave man 's a Doctor , To beat one into health ! I thought his blowes Would eene ha' kild him : hee did feele no more Then a great horse . Int. Is the wild Captaine gone ? That man of murther ? Bia. All is calme and quiet . Int. Say you so , Cosen Bias ? Then all 's well . Pal. How quickly a man is lost ! Bia. And soone recover'd ! Pol. Where there are meanes , and Doctors , learned men , And their Apothecaries , who are not now , ( As Chawcer sayes ) their friendship to begin . Well , could they teach each other how to win I' their swath bands — . Rut. Leave your Poetry good Gossip . Your Chawcers clouts , and wash your dishes with 'hem , Wee must rub up the roots of his disease , And crave your peace a while , or else your absence . Pol. Nay , I know when to hold my peace . Rut. Then do it . Gi' me your hand Sir Moath . Let 's feele your pulse . It is a Pursinesse , a kind of Stoppage , Or tumor o' the Purse , for want of exercise , That you are troubled with : some ligatures I' th neck of your Vesica , or Marsupium , Are so close knit , that you cannot evaporate ; And therefore you must use relaxatives . Beside , they say , you are so restive growne , You cannot but with trouble put your hand Into your pocket , to discharge a reckoning . And this we sonnes of Physick doe call chiragra A kind of Crampe , or Hand-Gout . You shall purge for 't . Ite . Indeed your worship should doe well to advise him , To clense his body , all the three high wayes ; That is , by Sweat , Purge , and Phlebatomy . Rut. You say well learned Tim , I le first prescribe him , To give his purse a purge once , twice a weeke At Dice , or Cards : And when the weather is open , Sweat at a bowling Alley ; or be let blood I' the lending veine , and bleed a matter of fifty , Or threescore ounces at a time . Then put Your thumbs under your Girdle , and have some body Else , pull out your purse for you , till with more ease , And a good habit , you can doe it your selfe . And then be sure alwayes to keepe good diet ; And h'your table furnish'd from one end , Vnto the tother : It is good for the eyes , But feed you on one dish still , ha' your Diet-drinke , Ever in Bottles ready , which must come From the Kings-head : I will prescribe you nothing ; But what I le take before you mine owne selfe : That is my course with all my Patients . Pal. Very methodicall , Secundùm Artem. Bia. And very safe pro captu recipientis . Pol. All errant learned men , how they ' spute Latine . Rut. I had it of a Jew , and a great Rabbi , Who every morning cast his cup of White-wine With sugar , and by the residence i' the bottome , Would make report of any Chronick malady , Such as Sir Moath's is , being an oppilation , In that you call the neck o' the money bladder , Most anatomicall , and by dissection . Kee. O Mr. Doctor , and his Pothecary Inter 〈◊〉 Good Mr. Item , and my Mistris Polish ! Wee need you all above ! Shee 's falne againe , In a worse fit then ever . Pol. Who ? Kee. Your charge . Pol. Come away Gentlemen . Int. This fit with the Doctor , Hath mended me past expectation .
ACT III. SCENE V. Compasse . Diaphanous . Practise . Bias. Ironside . Com. O Sir Diaphanous , ha' you done ? Dia. I ha' brought it . Pra. That 's well . Com But who shall carry it now ? Dia. A friend : I le find a friend to carry it ; Mr. Bias here Will not deny me that . Bia. What is 't ? Dia. To carry A Challenge I have writ unto the Captaine . Bias. Faith but I will Sir , you shall pardon me For a twi-reason of State : I le he●ren● Challenges ; I will not hazard my Lords favour so ; Or forfeit mine owne Judgement with his honour , To turne a Russian : I have to commend me Nought but his Lordships good opinion ; And to 't my Kallygraphy , a faire hand , Fit for a Secretary : Now you know , a mans hand Being his executing part in fight , Is more obnoxious to the common perill — Dia. You shall not fight Sir , you shall onely search My Antagonist ; commit us fairely there Vpo' the ground on equall termes . Bia. O Sir ! But if my Lord should heare I stood at end Of any quarrell , 't were an end of me In a state course ! I ha'read the Politiques ; And heard th' opinions of our best Divines . Com. The Gentleman has reason ! Where was first The birth of your acquaintance ? or the Cradle Of your strickt friend shipmade ? Dia. We met in France , Sir . Com. In France ! that Garden of humanity , The very seed-plot of all courtesies : I wonder that your friendship suck'd that aliment , The milke of France ; and see this sower effect It doth produce , 'gainst all the sweets of travell : There , every Gentleman professing armes , Thinkes he is bound in honour to imbrace The bearing of a Challenge for another , Without or questioning the cause , or asking Least colour of a reason . There 's no Cowardize , No Poultrounerie , like urging why ? wherefore ? But carry a Challenge , die , and doe the thing . Bia. Why , heare you Mr. Compasse , I but crave Your eare in private ? I would carry his Challenge , If I but hop'd your Captaine angry enough To kill him : For ( to tell you truth ) this Knight , Is an impertinent in Court , ( wee thinke him : ) And troubles my Lords Lodgings , and his Table With frequent , and unnecessary visits , Which wee ( the better sort of Servants ) like not : Being his Fellowes in all other places , But at our Masters boord ; and we disdaine To doe those servile offices , oft times , His foolish pride , and Empire will exact , Against the heart , or humour of a Gentleman . Com. Truth Mr. Bias , I 'ld not ha' you thinke I speake to flatter you : but you are one O' the deepest Politiques I ever met , And the most subtily rationall . I admire you . But doe not you conceive in such a case , That you are accessary to his death , From whom you carry a Challenge with such purpose . Bia. Sir the corruption of one thing in nature , Is held the Generation of another ; And therefore , I had as leive be accessory Vnto his death , as to his life . Com. A new Morall Philosophy too ! you 'l carry 't then . Bia. If I were sure , 't would not incense his choller To beat the Messenger . Com. O' I le secure you , You shall deliver it in my lodging ; safely , And doe your friend a service worthy thankes . Bia. I le venture it , upon so good Induction , To rid the Court of an Impediment , This baggage Knight . Iro . Peace to you all Gentlemen , Enter Ironside . Save to this Mushrome ; who I heare is menacing Me with a Challenge : which I come to anticipate , And save the Law a labour : Will you fight Sir ? Dia. Yes , in my shirt . Iro . O , that 's to save your doublet ; I know it a Court trick ! you had rather have An Vlcer in your body , then a Pinke More i' your clothes . Dia. Captaine , you are a Coward , If you not fight i' your shirt . Iro . Sir I not meane To put it off for that , nor yet my doublet : Yo' have cause to call me Coward , that more feare The stroke of the common , and life giving aire , Then all your fury , and the Panoplie . Pra. ( Which is at best , but a thin linnen armour . ) I thinke a cup of generous wine were better , Then fighting i' your shirts . Dia. Sir , Sir , my valour , It is a valour of another nature , Then to be mended by a cup of wine . Com. I should be glad to heare of any valours , Differing in kind ; who have knowne hitherto , Only one vertue , they call Fortitude , Worthy the name of valour . Iro . Which , who hath not , Is justly thought a Coward : And he is such . Dia. O , you ha' read the Play there , the New Inne , Of Ionsons , that decries all other valour But what is for the publike . Iro . I doe that too , But did not learne it there ; I thinke no valour Lies for a private cause . Dia. Sir , I le redargue you , By disputation . Com. O let 's heare this ! I long to heare a man dispute in his shirt Of valour , and his sword drawne in his hand . Pra. His valour will take cold ; put on your doublet . Com. His valour will keepe cold , you are deceiv'd ; And relish much the sweter in our eares : It may be too , i' the ordinance of nature . Their valours are not yet so combatant , Or truly antagonistick , as to fight ; But may admit to heare of some divisions , Of Fortitude , may put 'hem off their Quarrell . Dia. I would have no man thinke me so ungovern'd , Or subject to my passion , but I can Reade him a Lecture 'twixt my undertakings , And executions : I doe know all kinds Of doing the busines , which the Towne cals valour . Com. Yes , he has read the Towne , Towne-top's his Author ! Your first ? Dia. Is a rash head-long unexperience . Com. Which is in Children , Fooles , or your street Gallants O' the first head . Pra. A pretty kind of valour ! Com. Commend him , he will spin it out in 's shirt , Fine , as that thred . Dia. The next , an indiscreet Presumption , grounded upon often scapes . Com. Or th' insufficiencie of Adversaries , And this is in your common fighting Brothers . Your old Perdu's , who ( after a time ) doe thinke , The one , that they are shot free ; the other , sword free . Your third ? Dia. Is nought but an excesse of choller , That raignes in resty old men — . Com. Noble mens Porters , And selfe conceited Poëts . Dia. And is rather A peevishnesse , then any part of valour . Pra. He but reherses , he concludes no valour . Com. A history of distempers , as they are practiz'd , His Harangue undertaketh , and no more . Your next ? Dia. Is a dull desperate resolving . Com. In case of some necessitous misery , or Incumbent mischiefe . Pra. Narrownesse of mind , Or ignorance being the root of it . Dia. Which shou shall find in Gamesters , quite blowne up . Com. Banckrupt Merchants , undiscovered Traytors . Pra. Or your exemplified Malefactors , That have surviv'd their infamy , and punishment . Com. One that hath lost his eares , by a just sentence O' the Starre-Chamber , a right valiant Knave — And is a Histrionicall Contempt , Of what a man feares most ; it being a mischiefe In his owne apprehension unavoidable . Pra. Which is in Cowards wounded mortally , Or Theeves adjudg'd to die . Com. This is a valour , I should desire much to see incourag'd : As being a speciall entertainment For our rogue People ; and make oft good sport Vnto 'hem , from the Gallowes to the ground . Dia. But mine is a Judiciall resolving , Or liberall undertaking of a danger — . Com. That might be avoided . Dia. I , and with assurance , That it is found in Noble-men , and Gentlemen , Of the best sheafe . Com. Who having lives to lose , Like private men , have yet a world of honour , And publike reputation to defend — . Dia. Which in the brave historified Greeks , And Romans you shall reade of . Com. And ( no doubt ) May in our Alder-men meet it , and their Deputies , The Souldiers of the Citie , valiant blades , Who ( rather then their houses should be ransack'd ) Would fight it out , like so many wild beasts ; Not for the fury they are commonly arm'd with : But the close manner of their sight , and custome , Of joyning head to head , and foot to foot . Iro . And which of these so well-prest resolutions Am I to encounter now ? For commonly , Men that have so much choise before 'hem , have Some trouble to resolve of any one . Bia. There are three valours yet , which Sir Diaphanous , Hath ( with his leave ) not touch'd . Dia. Yea ? which are those ? Pra. He perks at that ! Com. Nay , he does more , he chatters . Bia. A Philosophicall contempt of death , Is one : Then an infused kind of valour , Wrought in us by our Genii , or good spirits ; Of which the gallant Ethnicks had deepe sense : Who generally held , that no great States-man , Scholler , or Souldier , ere did any thing Sine divino aliquo afflatu . Pra. But there 's a Christian valour , 'bove these too . Bia. Which is a quiet patient toleration , Of whatsoever the malitious world With Injury doth unto you ; and consists In passion , more then action , Sir Diaphanous . Dia. Sure , I doe take mine to be Christian valour — . Com. You may mistake though . Can you justifie On any cause , this seeking to deface , The divine Image in a man ? Bia. O Sir ! Let 'hem alone : Is not Diaphanous As much a divine Image , as is Ironside ? Let Images fight , if they will fight , a God's name .
ACT III. SCENE VI. Keepe . Needle . Interest . To them inner 〈◊〉 Kee. Where 's Mr. Needle ? Saw you Mr. Needle ? Wee are undone . Com. What ailes the frantick Nurse ? Kee. My Mistris is undone , shee 's crying out ! Where is this man trow ? Mr. Needle ? Nee. Here. Kee. Run for the party , Mrs. Chaire the Mid-wife . Nay , looke how the man stands , as he were gok't ! Shee 's lost , if you not haste away the party . Nee. Where is the Doctor ? Kee. Where a scoffing man is . And his Apothecary , little better ; They laugh , and geere at all : will you dispatch ? And fetch the party quickly to our Mistris : Wee are all undone ! The Timpanie will out else . Int. Newes , newes , good newes , better then butter'd newes ! My Neice is found with Child , the Doctor tels me , Exit . And falne in labour . Com. How ? Int. The portion 's paid ! The portion — o' the Captaine ! Is he here ? Pra. H' has spi'd your swords out ! put 'hem up , put up , Yo' have driven him hence ; and yet your quarrell 's ended . Iro . In a most strange discovery . Pra. Of light gold . Dia. And crack't within the Ring . I take the Omen , As a good Omen . Pra. Then put up your Sword , And on your Doublet . Give the Captaine thankes . Dia. I had beene slur'd else . Thanke you noble Captaine ! Your quarrelling caus'd all this . Iro . Where 's Compasse ? Pra. Gone , Shrunke hence , ! contracted to his Center , I feare . Iro . The slip is his then . Dia. I had like t' have beene Abus'd i' the busines , had the slip slur'd on me , A Counterfeit . Bias. Sir , we are all abus'd : As many as were brought on to be Suitors ; And we will joyne in thankes , all to the Captaine , And to his fortune that so brought us off . Chorus . Dam.

This was a pittifull poore shift o' your Poët , Boy , to make his prime woman with child , and fall in labour , just to compose a quarrell .

Boy .

With whose borrowed eares , have you heard , Sir , all this while , that you can mistake the current of our Scene so ? The streame of the Argument , threatned her being with child from the very beginning , for it presented her in the first of the second Act , with some apparent note of infirmity , or defect : from knowledge of which , the Auditory were rightly to bee suspended by the Author , till the quarrell , which was but the accidentall cause , hastned on the discovery of it , in occasioning her affright ; which made her fall into her throwes presently , and within that compasse of time allow'd to the Comedy , wherein the Poët exprest his prime Artifice , rather then any errour , that the detection of her being with child , should determine the quarrell , which had produc'd it .

Pro.

The Boy is too hard for you . Brother Damplay , best marke the Play , and let him alone .

Dam.

I care not for marking the Play : I le damne it , talke , and doe that I come for . I will not have Gentlemen lose their priviledge , nor I my selfe my prerogative , for neere an overgrowne , or superannuated Poët of 'hem all . Hee shall not give me the Law ; I will censure , and be witty , and take my Tobacco , and enjoy my Magna Charta of reprehension , as my Predecessors have done before me .

Boy .

Even to license , and absurdity .

Pro.

Not now , because the Gentlewoman is in travell : and the Midwife may come on the sooner , to put her and us out of our paine .

Dam.

Well , looke to your busines afterward , Boy , that all things bee cleare , and come properly forth , suited , and set together ; for I will search what followes severely and to the naile .

Boy .

Let your naile run smooth then , and not scratch : lest the Author be bold to pare it to the quick , and make it smart : you 'l find him as severe as your selfe .

Dam.

A shrewd Boy ! and has mee every where . The Mid-wife is come , she has made haste .

ACT IIII.
SCENE I. Chaire . Needle . Keepe . CHa. Stay Mr. Needle , you doe prick too fast Vpo' the busines : I must take some breath : Lend me my stoole , you ha' drawne a stitch upon me , In faith , sonne Needle , with your haste . Nee. Good Mother , peice up this breach ; I le gi' you a new Gowne , A new silke-Grogoran Gowne . I le do 't Mother . Kee. what 'll you doe ? you ha' done too much already With your prick-seame , and through-stitch . Mr. Needle , I pray you sit not fabling here old tales , Good Mother Chaire , the Mid-wife , but come up .
ACT IIII. SCENE II. Compasse . Keepe . Practise . Com. How now Nurse , where 's my Lady ? Kee. In her Chamber Lock'd up , I thinke : shee 'll speake with no body . Com. Knowes shee o' this accident ? Kee. Alas Sir , no ; Would she might never know it . Pra. I thinke her Ladiship Too vertuous , and too nobly innocent , To have a hand in so ill-form'd a busines . Com. Your thought Sir is a brave thought , and a safe one , The child now to be borne is not more free , From the aspersion of all spot , then she ? She have her hand in plot , gainst Mr. Practise . If there were nothing else , whom she so loves ? Cries up , and values ? knowes to be a man Mark'd out , for a chiefe Justice in his cradle ? Or a Lord Paramount ; the head o' the Hall ? The Top or the Top-gallant of our Law ? Assure your selfe , she could not so deprave , The rectitude of her Judgement , to wish you Vnto a wife , might prove your Infamy , Whom she esteem'd that part o' the Common-wealth , And had up for honour to her blood . Pra. I must confesse a great beholdingnesse Vnto her Ladiships offer , and good wishes . But the truth is , I never had affection , Or any liking to this Neice of hers . Com. You fore-saw somewhat then ? Pra. I had my notes , And my Prognosticks . Com. You read Almanacks , And study 'hem to some purpose , I beleeve ? Pra. I doe confesse , I doe beleeve , and pray too : According to the Planets at sometimes . Com. And doe observe the signe in making Love ? Pra. As in Phlebotomy . Com. And choose your Mistris By the good dayes , and leave her by the bad ? Pra. I doe , and I doe not . Com. A little more Would fetch all his Astronomie from Allestree . Pra. I tell you Mr. Compasse , as my friend , And under seale , I cast mine eye long since , Vpo' the other wench , my Ladies woman , Another manner of peice for handsomnesse , Then is the Neice ( but that is sub sigillo , And as I give it you ) in hope o' your aid , And counsell in the busines . Com. You need counsell ? The only famous Counsell , o' the kingdome , And in all Courts ? That is a Jeere in faith , Worthy your name , and your profession too , Sharpe Mr. Practise . Pra. No , upo' my Law , As I am a Bencher , and now double Reader , I meant in meere simplicity of request . Com. If you meant so . Th' affaires are now perplex'd , And full of trouble , give 'hem breath , and setling , I le doe my best . But in meane time doe you Prepare the Parson . ( I am glad to know This ; for my selfe lik'd the young Maid before , And lov'd her too . ) Ha' you a Licence ? Pra. No ; But I can fetch one straight . Com. Doe , doe , and mind The Parsons pint t' ingage him — the busines ; A knitting Cup there must be . Pra. I shall doe it .
ACT IV. SCENE III. Bias. Interest . Compasse . Bia. T is an affront , from you Sir ; you here brought me , Vnto my Ladies , and to wooe a wife , Which since is prov'd a crack'd commoditie ; Shee hath broke bulke too soone . Int. No fault of mine , If she be crack'd in peeces , or broke round ; It was my sisters fault , that ownes the house , Where she hath got her clap , makes all this noise . I keepe her portion safe , that is not scatter'd : The money's rattle not ; nor are they throwne , To make a Musse , yet 'mong the game some Suitors . Com. Can you endure that flout , close Mr. Bias , And have beene so bred in the Politiques ? The injury is done you , and by him only ; He lent you imprest money , and upbraids it : Furnish'd you for the wooing , and now waves you . Bia. That makes me to expostulate the wrong So with him , and resent it as I doe . Com. But doe it home then , Bia. Sir , my Lord shall know it . Com. And all the Lords o' the Court too . Bia. What a Moath You are Sir Interest ! Int. Wherein I intreat you , Sweet Master Bias ? Com. To draw in young States-men , And heires of policie into the noose Of an infamous matrimonie . Bia. Yes , Infamous , quasi in communem famam : And Matrimony , quasi , matter of Money . Com. Learnedly urg'd , my cunning Mr. Bias. Bia. With his lewd , knowne , and prostituted Neice . Int. My knowne , and prostitute : how you mistake , And run upon a false ground , Mr. Bias ! ( Your Lords will doe me right . ) Now , she is prostitute , And that I know it ( please you understand me . ) I meane to keepe the portion in my hands : And pay no monies . Com. Marke you that Don Bias ? And you shall still remaine in bonds to him , For wooing furniture , and imprest charges . Int. Good Mr. Compasse , for the summes he has had Of me , I doe acquit him : They are his owne . Here , before you , I doe release him . Com. Good ! Bia. O Sir . Com. 'Slid take it : I doe witnesse it : Hee cannot hurle away his money better . Int. He shall get so much Sir , by my acquaintance , To be my friend : And now report to his Lords As I deserve no otherwise . Com. But well : And I will witnesse it , and to the value ; Foure hundred is the price , if I mistake not , Of your true friend in Court . Take hands , you ha' bought him , And bought him cheap . Bia. I am his worships servant . Com. And you his slave , Sir Moath . Seal'd , and deliver'd . Ha' you not studied the Court Complement ? Here are a paire of Humours , reconcil'd now , That money held at distance : or their thoughts , Baser then money .
ACT IV. SCENE IV. Polish . Keepe . Compasse . Pol. Out thou catife witch ! Baud , Beggar , Gipsey : Any thing indeed , But honest woman . Kee. What you please , Dame Polish , My Ladies Stroaker . Com. What is here to doe ? The Gossips out ! Pol. Thou art a Traytor to me , An Eve , the Apul , and the Serpent too : A Viper , that hast eat a passage through me , Through mine owne bowels , by thy retchlesnesse . Com. What frantick fit is this ? I le step aside And hearken to it . Pol. Did I trust thee , wretch , With such a secret , of that consequence , Did so concerne me , and my child , our livelihood , And reputation ? And hast thou undone us ? By thy connivence , nodding in a corner , And suffering her begot with child so basely ? Sleepie unlucky Hag ! Thou bird of night , And all mischance to me . Kee. Good Lady Empresse ! Had I the keeping of your Daughters clicket In charge ? was that committed to my trust ? Com. Her Daughter . Pol. Softly Divell , not so low'd , You 'ld ha' the house heare , and be witnesse , would you ? Kee. Let all the world be witnesse . Afore I le Endure the Tyrannie of such a tongue — And such a pride — . Pol. What will you doe ? Kee. Tell truth , And shame the She-man-Divell in puff'd sleeves ; Run any hazzard , by revealing all Vnto my Lady : how you chang'd the cradles , And chang'd the children in 'hem . Pol. Not so high ! Kee. Calling your Daughter Pleasance , there Placentia , And my true Mistris by the name of Pleasance . Com. A horrid secret , this ! worth the discovery ; Pol. And must you be thus lowd ? Kee. I will be lowder : And cry it through the house , through every roome , And every office of the Lawndry-maids : Till it be borne hot to my Ladies eares . Ere I will live in such a slavery , I le doe away my selfe . Pol. Didst thou not sweare To keepe it secret ? and upon what booke ? ( I doe remember now ) The Practice of Piety . Kee. It was a practice of impiety , Out of your wicked forge , I know it now , My conscience tels me . First , against the Infants , To rob them o' their names , and their true parents ; T' abuse the neighbour-hood , keepe them in errour ; But most my Lady : Shee has the maine wrong : And I wil let her know it instantly . Repentance , ( if it be true ) nere comes too late . Pol. What have I done ? Conjur'd a spirit up I sha' not lay againe ? drawne on a danger , And ruine on my selfe thus , by provoking A peevish foole , whom nothing will pray of , Or satisfie I feare ? Her patience stirr'd , Is turn'd to fury . I have run my Barke , On a sweet Rock , by mine owne arts , and trust : And must get off againe , or dash in peeces . Com. This was a busines , worth the listning after .
ACT IIII. SCENE V. Pleasance . Compasse . Ple. O Mr. Compasse , did you see my Mother ? Mistris Placentia , my Ladies Neice ; Is newly brought to bed o' the bravest boy ! Will you goe see it ? Com. First , I le know the father , Ere I approach these hazards . Ple. Mistris Midwife Has promis'd to find out a father for it , If there be need . Com. Shee may the safelier do 't , By vertue of her place . But pretty Pleasance , I have a newes for you , I thinke will please you . Ple. What is 't Mr. Compasse ? Com. Stay , you must Deserve it ere you know it . Where 's my Lady ? Ple. Retir'd unto her Chamber , and shut up . Com. She heares o' none o' this yet ? well , doe you Command the Coach ; and fit your selfe to travell ? A little way with me . Ple. Whither , for Gods sake . Com. Where I le intreat you not to your losse , beleeve it . If you dare trust your selfe . Ple. With you the world ore . Com. The newes will well requite the paines , I assure you . And i' this tumult you will not be mist . Command the Coach , it is an instant busines , Wu' not be done without you . Parson Palate Most opportunely met , step to my Chamber : I le come to you presently . There is a friend , Or two , will entertaine you , Mr. Practise . Ha' you the Licence ?
ACT IV. SCENE VI. Practise . Compasse . Pleasance . Palate . Pra. Here it is . Com. Let 's see it : Your name 's not in 't . Pra. I le fill that presently ; It has the Seale , which is the maine : And restgistred , The Clarke knowes me , and trusts me . Com. Ha' you the Parson ? Pra. They say hee 's here , he 'pointed to come hither . Com. I would not have him seene here for a world , To breed supition . Doe you intercept him , And prevent that . But take your Licence with you , And fill the blanke : or leave it here with me , I le doe it for you , stay you with us at his Church , Behind the old Exchange , wee 'll come i' th Coach , And meet you there within this Quarter at least . Pra. I am much bound unto you , Mr. Compasse , You have all the Law , and parts of Squire Practise For ever at your use . I le tell you newes , too : Sir , your Reversion's fall'n : Thin-wits dead , Surveyor of the Projects generall . Com. When died he ? Pra. Een● this morning , I receiv'd it From a right hand . Com. Conceale it Mr. Practise , And mind the maine affaire , you are in hand with . Ple. The Coach is ready Sir . Com. 'T is well faire Pleasance , Though now wee shall not use it , bid the Coach-man Drive to the Parish Church , and stay about there , Till Mr. Practise come to him , and imploy him : I have a Licence now , which must have entry Before my Lawyers . Noble Parson Palate , Thou shalt be a marke advanc't : here 's a peece , And doe a feat for me . Pal. What , Mr. Compasse ? Com. But run the words of Matrimony , over My head , and Mrs. Pleasances in my Chamber : There 's Captaine Ironside to be a witnesse : And here 's a Licence to secure thee . Parson ! What doe you stick at ? Pal. It is after-noone Sir , Directly against the Canon of the Church ; You know it Mr. Compasse : and beside , I am ingag'd unto our worshipfull friend , The learned Mr. Practise in that busines . Com. Come on , ingage yourselfe : Who shall be able To say you married us , but i' the morning , The most canonicall minute o' the day , If you affirme it ? That 's a spic'd excuse , And shewes you have set the Common Law , before Any profession else , of love , or friendship . Come Mrs. Pleasance , wee cannot prevaile With th' rigid Parson here ; but Sir , I le keepe you Lock'd in my lodging , 'till 't be done elsewhere , And under feare of Ironside . Pal. Doe you heare , Sir ? Com. No , no , it matters not . Pal. Can you thinke Sir I would deny you my thing ? not to losse Of both my Livings : I will doe it for you , Ha' you a wedding Ring ? Com. I and a Poesie : Annulus hic nobis , quod scit uterque dabit . Pal. Good ! This Ring will give you what you both desire . I le make the whole house chant it , and the Parish . Com. Why , well said Parson . Now to you my newes , That comprehend my reasons , Mrs. Pleasance .
ACT IIII. SCENE VII . Chaire . Needle . Polish . Keepe . Cha. Goe , get a Nurse , procure her at what rate You can : and out o'th'house with it , sonne Needle . It is a bad Commoditie . Nee. Good Mother , I know it , but the best would now be made on 't . Cha. And shall : you should not fret so , Mrs. Polish , Nor you Dame Keepe ; my Daughter shall doe well , When she has tane my Cawdle . I ha' knowne Twenty such breaches piec'd up , and made whole , Without a bum of noise . You two fall out ? And teare up one another ? Pol. Blessed woman ? Blest be the Peace-maker . Kee. The Pease-dresser ! I le heare no peace from her . I have beene wrong'd , So has my Lady , my good Ladies worship , And I will right her , hoping shee 'll right me . Pol. Good gentle Keepe , I pray thee Mistris Nurse , Pardon my passion , I was misadvis'd , Be thou yet better , by this grave sage woman , Who is the Mother of Matrons , and great persons , And knowes the world . Kee. I doe confesse , she knowes Something — and I know something — . Pol. Put your somethings . Together then . Cha. I , here 's a chance falne out You cannot helpe ; lesse can this Gentlewoman ; I can and will , for both . First , I have sent By-chop away ; the cause gone , the fame ceaseth . Then by my Cawdle , and my Cullice , I set My Daughter on her feet , about the house here : Shee 's young , and must stirre somewhat for necessity , Her youth will beare it out . She shall pretend , T' have had a fit o' the Mother : there is all . If you have but a Secretary Landresse , To blanch the Linnen — Take the former counsels Into you ; keepe them safe i' your owne brests ; And make your Merkat of 'hem at the highest . Will you goe peach , and cry yourselfe a foole At Granam's Crosse ? be laugh'd at , and dispis'd ▪ Betray a purpose , which the Deputie Of a double Ward , or scarce his Alderman , With twelve of the wisest Questmen could find out , Imployed by the Authority of the Citie ? Come , come , be friends : and keepe these women-matters , Smock-secrets to our selves , in our owne verge . Wee shall marre all , if once we ope the mysteries O' the Tyring-house , and tell what 's done within : No Theaters are more cheated with apparances , Or these shop-lights , then th' Ages , and folke in them , That seeme most curious . Pol. Breath of an Oracle ! You shall be my deare Mother ; wisest woman That ever tip'd her tongue , with point of reasons , To turne her hearers ! Mistris Keepe , relent , I did abuse thee ; I confesse to pennance : And on my knees aske thee forgivenesse . Cha. Rise , She doth begin to melt , I see it — . Kee. Nothing Griev'd me so much , as when you call'd me Baud : Witch did not trouble me , nor Gipsie ; no Nor Beggar . But a Baud , was such a name ! Cha. No more rehearsals ; Repetitions Make things the worse : The more wee stirre ( you know The Proverbe , and it signifies a ) stink . What 's done , and dead , let it be buried . New houres will fit fresh handles , to new thoughts .
ACT IV. SCENE VIII . Interest , with his Foot-boy . To them Compasse . Ironside . Silkeworme . Palate . Pleasance . To them the Lady : and after Practise . Int. Run to the Church , Sirrah . Get all the Drunkards To ring the Bels , and jangle them for joy My Neice hath brought an Heire unto the house , A lusty boy . Where 's my sister Loadstone ? A sleepe at afternoones ! It is not wholesome ; Against all rules of Physick , Lady sister . The little Doctor will not like it . Our Neice Is new deliver'd of a chopping Child , Can call the Father by the name already , If it but ope the mouth round . Mr. Compasse , He is the man , they say , fame gives it out , Hath done that Act of honour to our house , And friendship to pompe out a Sonne , and Heire , That shall inherit nothing , surely nothing From me at least . I come t' invite your Ladiship To be a witnesse ; I will be your Partner , And give it a horne-spoone , and a treene dish ; Bastard , and Beggars badges , with a blanket For Dame the Doxey to march round the Circuit , With bag , and baggage . Com. Thou malitious Knight , Envious Sir Moath , that eates on that which feeds thee , And frets her goodnesse , that sustaines thy being ; What company of Mankind would owne thy brother-hood , But as thou hast a title to her blood , Whom thy ill nature hath chose out t'insult on , And vexe thus , for an Accident in her house , As if it were her crime ! Good innocent Lady , Thou shew'st thy selfe a true corroding Vermine , Such as thou art . Int. Why , gentle Mr. Compasse ? Because I wish you joy of your young Sonne , And Heire to the house , you ha' sent us ? Com. I ha' sent you ? I know not what I shall doe . Come in friends : Madam , I pray you be pleas'd to trust your selfe Vnto our company . Lad. I did that too late ; Which brought on this calamity upon me , With all the infamy I heare ; your Souldier , That swaggering Guest . Com. Who is return'd here to you , Your vowed friend , and servant ; comes to sup with you , So wee doe all ; and 'll prove he hath deserv'd , That speciall respect , and favour from you , As not your fortunes , with your selfe to boote , Cast on a Feather-bed , and spread o' th' sheets Vnder a brace of your best Persian Carpets , Were scarce a price to thanke his happy merit . Int. What impudence is this ? can you indure To heare it sister ? Com. Yes , and you shall heare it ; Who will indure it worse . What deserves he In your opinion , Madam , or weigh'd Judgement , That , things thus hanging ( as they doe in doubt ) Suspended , and suspected , all involv'd , And wrapt in errour , can resolve the knot ? Redintigrate the fame , first of your house ? Restore your Ladiships quiet ? render then Your Neice a Virgin , and unvitiated ? And make all plaine , and perfect ( as it was ) A practise to betray you , and your name ? Int. Hee speakes impossibilities . Com. Here he stands , Whose fortune hath done this , and you must thanke him : To what you call his swaggering , wee owe all this . And that it may have credit with you Madam , Here is your Neice , whom I have married , witnesse These Gentlemen , the Knight , Captaine , and Parson , And this grave Politique Tell-troth of the Court. Lad. What 's she that I call Neice then ? Com. Polishes Daugh Her Mother Good wy ' Polish hath confess'd it To Granam Keepe , the Nurse , how they did change The children in their Cradles . Lad. To what purpose ? Com. To get the portion , or some part of it , Which you must now disburse intire to me , Sir , If I but gaine her Ladiships consent . Lad. I bid God give you joy , if this be true . Com. As true it is , Lady , Lady , i' th' song . The portion 's mine , with interest Sir Mouth ; I will not 'bate you a single Harrington , Of interest upon interest . In meane time , I doe commit you to the Guard of Ironside . My brother here , Captaine Rudhudibras : From whom I will expect you , or your Ransome . Int. Sir you must prove it , and the possibility , Ere I beleeve it . Com. For the possibility , I leave to triall . Truth shall speake it selfe . O Mr. Practise , did you meet the Coach ? Pra. Yes Sir , but empty . Com. Why , I sent it for you . The busines is dispatch'd here , ere you come ; Come in , I le tell you how : you are a man Will looke for satisfaction , and must have it . All. So doe wee all , and long to heare the right . Chorus . Dam.

Troth , I am one of those that labour with the same longing , for it is almost pucker'd , and pull'd into that knot , by your Poët , which I cannot easily , with all the strength of my imagination , untie .

Boy .

Like enough , nor is it in your office to be troubled or perplexed with it , but to sit still , and expect . The more your imagination busies it selfe , the more it is intangled , especially if ( as I told , in the beginning ) you happen on the wrong end .

Pro.

He hath said sufficient , Brother Damplay ; our parts that are the Spectators , or should heare a Comedy , are to await the processe , and events of things , as the Poet presents them , not as wee would corruptly fashion them . Wee come here to behold Playes , and censure them , as they are made , and fitted for us ; not to beslave our owne thoughts , with censorious spitle tempering the Poets clay , as wee were to mould every Scene anew : That were a meere Plastick , or Potters ambition , most unbecomming the name of a Gentleman . No , let us marke , and not lose the busines on foot , by talking . Follow the right thred , or find it .

Dam.

Why , here his Play might have ended , if hee would ha' let it ; and have spar'd us the vexation of a fift Act yet to come , which every one here knowes the issue of already , or may in part conjecture .

Boy .

That conjecture is a kind of Figure-flinging , or throwing the Dice , for a meaning was never in the Poets purpose perhaps . Stay , and see his last Act , his Catastrophe , how hee will perplexe that , or spring some fresh cheat , to entertaine the Spectators , with a convenient delight , till some unexpected , and new encounter breake out to rectifie all , and make good the Conclusion .

Pro.

Which , ending here , would have showne dull , flat , and unpointed ; without any shape , or sharpenesse , Brother Damplay .

Dam. Well , let us expect then : And wit be with us , o' the Poets part .
ACT V.
SCENE I. Needle . Item . Nee. TRoth Mr. Item , here 's a house divided , And quarter'd into parts , by your Doctors ingine . H' has cast out such aspersions on my Ladies Neice here , of having had a Child ; as hardly Will be wip'd off , I doubt . Ite . Why , is 't not true ? Nee. True ! did you thinke it ? Ite . Was shee not in labour ? The Mid-wife sent for ? Ite . There 's your errour now ! Yo' ha' drunke o' the same water . Item . I beleev'd it , And gave it out too . Nee. More you wrong'd the party ; She had no such thing about her , innocent creature ! Iem . What had she then ? only a fit o' the Mother , They burnt old shoes , Goose-feathers , Assafoetida , A few horne shavings , with a bone , or two , And she is well againe , about the house ; — Ite . Is' t possible ? Nee. See it , and then report it . Ite . Our Doctors Vrinall-Judgement is halfe-crack'd then . Nee. Crack't i' the case , most hugely , with my Lady , And sad Sir Moath , her brother ; who is now Vnder a cloud a little . Ite . Of what ? Disgrace ? Nee. He is committed to Rud-hudibras , The Captaine Ironside , upon displeasure , From Mr. Compasse , but it will blow off . Ite . The Doctor shall reverse his , instantly , And set all right againe : if you 'll assist But in a toy ; Squire Needle , comes i' my nodle now . Nee. Good , Needle and Nodle ! what may 't be ? I long for 't . Ite . Why , but to goe to bed : faine a distemper Of walking i' your sleepe , or talking in 't A little idly , but so much , as on ' it , The Doctor may have ground , to raise a cure For 's reputation . Nee. Any thing , to serve The worship o' the man I love and honour .
ACT V. SCENE II. Polish . Pleasance . Chaire . Placentia . Keepe . Pol. O! gi' you joy Madamoiselle Compasse ! You are his Whirle-poole now : all to be married , Against your Mothers leave , and without counsell ! H' has fish'd faire , and caught a Frog , I feare it . What fortune ha' you to bring him in dower ? You can tell stories now : you know a world Of secrets to discover . Ple. I know nothing But what is told me ; nor can I discover Anything . Pol. No , you shall not , I le take order . Goe , get you in there : It is Ember-weeke ! I le keepe you fasting from his flesh a while . Cha. See , who 's here ? she ' has beene with my Lady ; who kist her , all to kist her , twice or thrice . Nee. And call'd her Neice againe , and view'd her Linnen . Pol. You ha' done a Miracle , Mother Chaire . Cha. Not I , My Cawdle has done it . Thanke my Cawdle heartily . Pol It shall be thank'd , and you too , wisest Mother ; You shall have a new , brave , foure-pound Beaver hat , Set with enamell'd studs , as mine is here : And a right paire of Cristall Spectacles , Cristall o' th' Rock , thou mighty Mother of Dames , Hung in an Ivory Case , at a gold Belt , And silver Bels to gingle , as you pase Before your fiftie Daughters in procession To Church , or from the Church . Cha. Thankes Mrs. Polish . Kee. She does deserve as many pensions , As there be peeces in a — Maiden-head ; Were I a Prince to give 'hem . Pol. Come sweet Charge , You shall present your selfe about the house , be confident , and beare up ; you shall be seene .
ACT V. SCENE III. Compasse . Ironside . Practise . Com. What ? I can make you amends , my learned Counsell , And satisfie a greater Injury To chafed Mr. Practise . Who would thinke That you could be thus testie ? Iro . A grave head ! Gi'n over to the study of our Lawes . Com. And the prime honours of the Common-wealth . Iro . And you to mind a wise . Com. What should you doe With such a toy as a wife , that might distract you , Or hinder you i' your Course ? Iro . He shall not thinke on 't . Com. I will make over to you my Possession , Of that same place is falne ( you know ) to satisfie Surveyor of the Projects generall . Iro . And that 's an office , you know how to stirre in . Com. And make your profits of . Iro . Which are ( indeed ) The ends of a gown'd man : Shew your activity , And how you are built for busines . Pra. I accept it As a Possession , be 't but a Reversion . Com. You first told me 't was a Possession . Pra. I , I told you that I heard so . Iro . All is one , Hee 'll make Reversion a Possession quickly . Com. But I must have a generall Release from you . Pra. Doe one , He doe the other . Com. It 's a match Before my brother Ironside . Pra. 'T is done . Com. Wee two are reconcil'd then . Iro . To a Lawyer , That can make use of a place , any halfe title , Is better then a wife . Com. And will save charges Of Coaches , Vellute Gownes , and cut-worke Smocks . Iro . Hee is to occupie an office wholly . Com. True , I must talke with you neerer , Mr. Practise , About recovery o' my wives portion , What way I were best to take . Pra. The plainest way . Com. What 's that , for plainenesse ? Pra. Sue him at Common-Law : Arrest him on an Action of Choke-baile , Five hundred thousand pound ; it will affright him , And all his sureties . You can prove your marriage ? Com. Yes . Wee 'll talke of it within , and heare my Lady .
ACT V. SCENE IV. Interest . Lady . Rut. Item . Int. I 'am sure , the Rogue o' the house went all that way ; She was with Child , and Mr. Compasse got it . Lad. Why , that you see , is manifestly false , H' has married the other ; our true Neice he sayes : He would not wooe 'hem both : hee is not such A Stallion , to leape all . Againe , no Child Appeares , that I can find with all my search , And strictest way of Inquiry , I have made Through all my family . A fit o' the Mother , The women say she had , which the Mid-wife our'd , With burning bones and feathers : Here 's the Doctor . Enter Doctor . Int. O noble Doctor , did not you , and your Item , Tell me our Neice was in labour ? Rut. If I did , What followes ? Int. And that Mother Mid-night Was sent for ? Rut. So she was ; and is i' the house still . Int. But here has a noise beene since , she was deliver'd Of a brave boy , and Mr. Compasse's getting . Rut. I know no rattle of Gossips , nor their noyses . I hope you take not me for a Pimpe errant , To deale in smock Affaires ? Where 's the Patient ? The infirme man , I was sent for , Squire Needle ? Lad. Is Needle sick ? Rut. My 'Pothecary tels me Enter Tim. Hee is in danger ; how is 't Tim ? where is he ? Ite . I cannot hold him downe . Hee 's up , and walkes , And talkes in his perfect sleepe , with his eyes shut , As sensibly , as he were broad awake . Rut. See , here becomes , Hee 's fast asleepe , observe him . Rut. Hee 'll tell us wonders : What doe these women here ?
ACT V. SCENE V. Rut. Needle . Interest . Item . Lady . Polish . Chaire . Keepe . Placentia . Hunting a man halfe naked ? you are fine beagles ! You 'd have his dousets . Nee. I ha' linnen breeks on . Rut. He heares , but hee sees nothing . Nee. Yes , I see Who hides the treasure yonder . Int. Ha ? what treasure ? Rut. If you aske questions , he ' wakes presently : And then you 'l heare no more , till his next fit . Nee. And whom she hides it for . Rut. Doe you marke Sir ? Int. Nee. A fine she spirit it is , an Indian Mag-pie . She was an Aldermans Widow , and fell in love With our Sir Moath , my Ladies brother . Rut. ( Heare you ? ) Nee. And she has hid an Aldermans estate ; Dropt through her bill in little holes , i' the Garden , And scrapes earth over 'hem ; where none can spy But I , who see all by the Glowormes light , That creeps before . Pol. I knew the Gentlewoman ; Alderman Parrots Widow , a fine Speaker , As any was i' the Clothing , or the Bevy ; She did become her scarlet , and black Velvet , Her greene , and purple — Rut. Save thy colours , Rainebow , Or she will run thee over , and all thy lights . Pol. She dwelt in Doo-little Lane , a top o' the hill there ; I' the round Cage , was after Sir Chime Squirrell's . Shee would eate nought but Almonds , I assure you . Rut. Would thou had'st a dose of pilles , a double dose , O' the best purge , to make thee turne tale , tother way . Pol. You are a foule mouth'd , purging , absurd Doctor ; I tell you true , and I did long to tell it you . You ha'spread a scandall i' my Ladies house here , On her sweet Neice , you never can take off With all your purges , or your plaister of Oathes ; Though you distill your Dam-me , drop by drop , I' your defence . That she hath had a Child , Here she doth spit upon thee , and defie thee ; Or I do 't for her . Rut. Madam , pray you bind her To her behaviour . Tye your Gossip up , Or send her unto Bet'lem . Pol. Goe thou thither , That better hast deserv'd it , shame of Doctors : Where could she be deliver'd ? by what charme ? Restor'd to her strength so soone ? who is the Father ? Or where the Infant ? Aske your Oracle , That walkes , and talkes in his sleepe . Rut. Where is he ? gone ? You ha' lost a fortune listning to her , to her Tabour . Good Madam lock her up . Lad. You must give loosers Their leave to speake , good Doctor . Rut. Follow his footing Before he get to his bed : This rest is lost else .
ACT V. SCENE VI. Compasse . Practise . Ironside . Polish . Lady . Com. Where is my wife ? what ha' you done with my wife , Gossip o' the Counsels ? Pol. I , sweet Mr. Compasse ? I honour you , and your wife . Com. Well , doe so still . I will not call you Mother tho' , but Polish . Good Gossip Polish , where ha' you hid my wife ? Pol. I hide your wife ? Com. Or she 's run away . Lad. That would make all suspected , Sir , a fresh . Come we will find her , if she be i' the house . Pol. Why should I hide your wife , good Mr. Compasse ? Com. I know no cause , but that you are goo'dy Polish , That 's good at malice ; good at mischiefe ; all That can perplexe , or trouble a busines , throughly . Pol. You may say what you will : yo' are Mr. Compasse , And carry a large sweep , Sir , i' your Circle . Lad. I le sweep all corners , Gossip , to spring this . If 't be above ground , I will have her cry'd , By the Common-cryer , through all the Ward , But I will find her . Iro . It will be an Act Worthy your justice , Madam . Pra. And become The integrity , and worship of her name .
ACT V. SCENE VII . Rut. Interest . Item . Needle . Rut. 'T is such a Fly , this Gossip , with her buz , Shee blowes on every thing , in every place ! Int. A busie woman , is a fearefull grievance ! Will hee not sleepe againe ? Rut. Yet instantly , As soone as he is warme . It is the nature Of the disease , and all these cold dry fumes , That are melancholicke , to worke at first , Slow , and insensibly in their ascent , Till being got up , and then distilling downe Vpo' the braine ; they have a pricking quality That breeds this restlesse rest , which we , the sonnes Of Physick , call a walking in the sleepe , And telling mysteries , that must be heard . Softly , with art , as we were sowing pillowes Vnder the Patients elbowes , else they 'd fly Into a phrensie , run into the Woods , Where there are Noises , huntings , shoutings , hallowings , Amidst the brakes , and furzes , over bridges Fall into waters : Scratch their flesh : Sometimes Drop downe a praecipice , and there be lost . How now ! what does her ? Ite . He is up againe , Enter Item . And 'gins to talke . Int. O' the former matter , Item ? Ite . The treasure , and the Lady : That 's his argument . Int. O mee , happy man ! he cannot off it . I shall know all then . Rut. With what appetite Our owne desires delude us ! Heare you Tim ? Let no man interrupt us . Ite . Sir Diaphanous , And Mr. Bias , his Court-friend's , desire To kisse his Neices hands , and gratulate The firme recovery of her good fame , And honour — Int. Good , say to 'hem , Mr. Item , My Neice is on my Ladies side : they 'll find her there . I pray to be but spar'd , for halfe an houre : I le see 'hem presently . Rut. Doe , put 'hem off , Tim. And tell 'hem the importance of the busines . Here , he is come ! sooth ; and have all out of him . Nee. How doe you Lady-bird ? so hard at worke , still ? What 's that you say ? Doe you bid me walke , sweet Bird ? And tell our Knight ? I will . How ? walke knave , walke ? I thinke y' are angry with me Pol. Fine Pol ! Pol's a fine bird ! O fine Lady Pol ! Almond for Parrat ; Parrat's a brave bird : Three hundred thousand peeces ha' you stuck , Edge-long into the ground , within the Garden ? O'bounteous Bird ! Int. And me , most happy creature . Rut. Smother your joy . Nee. How ? and drop'd twice so many — Int. Ha! where ? Rut. Containe your selfe . Nee. I' the old Well ? Int. I cannot , I am a man of flesh , and blood : Who can containe himselfe , to heare the Ghost Of a dead Lady , doe such workes as these ? And a Citie Lady too , o' the streight waste ? Rut. Hee 's gone . Nee. I will goe try the truth of it . Rut. Follow him , Tim: See what he does ; if he bring you A'ssay of it now . Int. I le say hee 's a rare fellow : And has a rare disease . Rut. And I will worke As rare a cure upon him . Int. How , good Doctor ? Rut. When he hath utter'd all , that you would know of him ; I le clense him with a pill ( as small as a pease ) And stop his mouth : for there his issue lies , Betweene the Muscles o' the tongue . Int. Hee 's come . Rut. What did he , Item ? Ite . The first step he stept Into the Garden , he pull'd these five peices Vp , in a fingers breath one of another . The durt sticks on 'hem still . Int. I know enough . Doctor , proceed with your Cure , I le make thee famous , Famous among the sonnes of the Physicians , Machaon , Podalirius , Esculapius . Thou shalt have a golden beard , as well as he had ; And thy Tim Item here , have one of silver : A livery beard . And all thy 'Pothecaries Belong to thee . Where 's Squire Needle ? gone ? Ite . Hee 's prick'd away , now he has done the worke . Rut. Prepare his pill , and gi' it him afore Supper . Int. I le send for a dozen o'labourers to morrow , To turne the surface o' the Garden up . Rut. In mould ? bruise every clod ? Int. And have all sifted ; For I le not loose a peice o' the Birds bounty , And take an Inventory of all . Rut. And then , I would goe downe into the Well — Int. My selfe ; No trusting other hands : Sixe hundred thousand , To the first three ; nine hundred thousand pound — Rut. 'T will purchase the whole Bench of Aldermanity , Stript to their shirts . Int. There never did accrew , So great a gift to man , and from a Lady , I never saw but once ; now I remember , Wee met at Merchants ▪ Taylors-hall , at dinner , In Thred-needle street , Rut. Which was a signe Squire Needle Should have the thredding of this thred . Int. 'T is true ; I shall love Parrots better , while I know him . Rut. I l'd have her statue cut , now in white marble . Int. And have it painted in most orient colours . Rut. That 's right ! all Citie statues must be painted : Else , they be worth nought i' their subtile Judgements .
ACT V. SCENE VIII . Interest . Bias. Rut. Palate . Int. My truest friend in Court , deare Mr. Bias ; You heare o' the recovery of our Neice In fame , and credit ? Bia. Yes , I have beene with her , And gratulated to her ; but I am sory To find the Author o' the fowle aspersion Here i' your company , this insolent Doctor . Int. You doe mistake him : He is cleare got off on 't . A Gossips Jealousie first gave the hint . He drives another way , now , as I would have him . Hee 's a rare man , the Doctor , in his way . H' has done the noblest cure here , i' the house , On a poore Squire , my sisters Taylor , Needle That talk'd in 's sleepe ; would walke to Saint Iohn's wood , And Waltham Forrest , scape by all the ponds , And pits i' the way ; run over two-inch bridges ; With his eyes fast , and i' the dead of night ! I le ha' you better acquainted with him . Doctor , Here is my deare , deare , dearest friend in Court , Wise , powerfull Mr. Bias ; pray you salute Each other , not as strangers , but true friends . Rut. This is the Gentleman you brought to day , A Suitor to your Neice ? Int. Yes . Rut. You were Agreed , I heard ; the writings drawne betweene you ? Int. And seald . Rut. What broke you off ? Int. This rumour of her ? Was it not Mr. Bias ? Bia. Which I find Now false , and therefore come to make amends I' the first place . I stand to the old conditions . Rut. Faith give 'hem him , Sir Moath , what ere they were . You have a brave occasion now , to crosse The flanting Mr. Compasse , who pretends Right to the portion , by th' other Intaile . Int. And claimes it . You doe heare he 's married ? Bia. We heare his wife is run away from him , Within : She is not to be found i' the house , With all the Hue , and Cry is made for her , Through every roome ; the Larders ha' beene search'd , The Bak-houses , and Boulting-tub , the Ovens , Wash-house , and Brew-house , nay the very Fornace , And yet she is not heard of . Int. Be she nere heard of , The safety of Great Brittaine lyes not on 't . You are concent with the ten thousand pound , Defalking the foure hundred garnish money ? That 's the condition here , afore the Doctor , And your demand , friend Bias. Bia. It is Sir Moath . Enter Palate . Rut. Here comes the Parson then , shall make all sure . Int. Goe you with my friend Bias , Parson Palate , Vnto my Neice ; assure them wee are agreed . Pal. And Mrs. Compasse too , is found within . Int. Where was she hid ? Pal. In an old Botle-house , Where they scrap'd trenchers ; there her mother had thrust her . Rut. You shall have time , Sir , to triumph on him , When this fine feate is done , and his Rud-Ironside .
ACT V. SCENE IX . Compasse . Pleasance . Lady . Ironside . Practise . Polish . Chaire . Keepe . &c. Com. Was ever any Gentlewoman us'd So barbarously by a malitious Gossip , Pretending to be Mother to her too ? Pol. Pretending ! Sir , I am her Mother , and challenge A right , and power for what I have done . Com. Out , Hag. Thou that hast put all nature off , and woman : For sordid gaine , betray'd the trust committed Vnto thee by the dead , as from the living : Chang'd the poore innocent Infants in their Cradles : Defrauded them o' their parents , chang'd their names , Calling Placentia , Pleasance ; Pleasance , Placentia . Pol. How knowes he this ? Com. Abus'd the neighbour-hond , But most this Lady . Did'st enforce an oath , To this poore woman , on a pious booke , To keepe close thy impiety . Pol. Ha' you told this ? Kee. I told it ? no , he knowes it , and much more , As he 's a cunning man . Pol. A cunning foole , If that be all . Com. But now to your true daughter , That had the Child , and is the proper Pleasance , Wee must have an account of that too , Gossip ; Pol. This 's like all the rest of Mr. Compasse .
ACT V. SCENE X. Enter to them running , Rut. Rut. Helpe , helpe for Charity ; Sir Moath Interest Is falne into the Well . Lad. Where ? where ? Rut. I' the Garden . A rope to save his life . Com. How came be there ? Rut. He thought to take possession of a fortune , There newly drop't him , and the old Chaine broke , And downe fell hee i' the Bucket . Com. Is it deepe ? Rut. We cannot tell . A rope : helpe with a rope . Sil. He is got out againe . The Knight is sav'd . Enter Silke-worme . Ironside . Item . Needle , and Interest . Rut. Iro . A little sows'd i' the water : Needle sav'd him . Ite . The water sav'd him , 't was a faire escape . Nee. Ha' you no hurt ? Int. A little wet . Nee. That 's nothing . Rut. I wish'd you stay Sir till to morrow : And told you , It was no lucky houre : since sixe a Clock All starres were retrograde . Lad. I' the name Lady . Of fate , or folly how came you i' the Bucket ? Int. That is a Quere of another time , sister , The Doctor will resolve you — who hath done The admirable'st cure upon your Needle ! Gi' me thy hand good Needle : thou cam'st timely . Take off my hood and coat . And let me shake My selfe a little . I have a world of busines . Bias. Placentia . Where is my Nephew Bias ? and his wife ? Who bids God gi 'hem joy ? Here they both stand Palate . As sure affianced , as the Parson , or words Can tie 'hem . Rut. Wee all wish 'hem joy , and happinesse . Silk . I saw the Contract , and can witnesse it . Int. He shall receive ten thousand pounds to morrow . You look'd for 't , Compasse , or a greater summe , But 't is dispos'd of , this , another way . I have but one Neice , verely Compasse . Com. I le find another . Varlet , doe your office . Var. I doe arrest your body , Sir Moath Interest , Varlet . In the Kings name : At suite of Mr. Compasse , And Dame Placentia his wife . The Action sentred , Five hundred thousand pound . Int. Heare you this , sister ? And hath your house the eares , to heare it too ? And to resound the affront ? Lad. I cannot stop The Lawes , or hinder Justice . I can be Your Baile , if 't may betaken , Com. With the Captaines , I aske no better . Rut. Here are better men , Will give their Baile . Com. But yours will not be taken , Worshipfull Doctor ; you are good security For a suit of clothes , to th' Taylor , that dares trust you : But not for such a summe , as is this Action . Varlet , You know my mind . Var. You must to prison , Sir , Vnlesse you can find Baile the Creditor likes . Int. I would faine find it , if you 'd shew me where . Silk . It is a terrible Action ; more indeed , Then many a man is worth . And is call'd Fright-Baile . Iro . Faith I will baile him , at mine owne apperill . Varlet , be gone : I le once ha' the reputation , To be security for such a summe . Beare up Sir Moath . Rut. He is not worth the Buckles About his Belt , and yet this Ironside clashes . Int. Peace , lest he heare you Doctor ; wee 'll make use of him . What doth your brother Compasse , Captaine Ironside , Demand of us , by way of challenge , thus ? Iro . Your Neices portion ; in the right of his wife . Int. I have assur'd one portion , to one Neice , And have no more t' account for , that I know of : What I may doe in charity — if my sister , Will bid an Offring for her maid , and him , As a Benevolence to 'hem , after Supper , I le spit into the Bason , and intreat My friends to doe the like . Com. Spit out thy gall , And heart , thou Viper : I will now no mercy , No pitty of thee , thy false Neice , and Needle ; Bring forth your Child , or I appeale you of murder , You , and this Gossip here , and Mother Chaire . Cha. Pleasance steps out . The Gentleman 's falne mad ! Ple. No , Mrs. Midwife . I saw the Child , and you did give it me , And put it i' my armes , by this ill token , You wish'd me such another ; and it cry'd . Pra. The Law is plaine ; if it were heard to cry , And you produce it not , hee may indict All that conceale 't , of Felony , and Murder . Com. And I will take the boldnesse , Sir , to doe it : Beginning with Sir Moath here , and his Doctor . Silk . Good faith this same is like to turne a busines . Pal. And a shrewd busines , marry : they all start at't . Com. I ha' the right thred now , and I will keepe it . You good'y Keepe , confesse the truth to my Lady , The truth , the whole truth , nothing but the truth . Pol. I scorne to be prevented of my glories . I plotted the deceit , and I will owne it . Love to my Child , and lucre of the portion Provok'd me ; wherein though th' event hath fail'd In part , I will make use of the best side . This is my Daughter , and she hath had a Child This day , unto her shame , I now professe it . ) By this meere false-stick Squire Needle , but Since this wise Knight , hath thought it good to change The foolish Father of it , by assuring Her to his deare friend , Mr. Bias ; and him Againe to her , by clapping of him on With his free promise of ten thousand pound , Afore so many witnesses . Silk . Whereof I Am one . Pal. And I another . Pol. I should be unnaturall To my owne flesh , and blood , would I not thanke him . I thanke you Sir : and I have reason for it . For here your true Neice stands , fine Mrs. Compasse . ( I le tell you truth , you have deserv'd it from me . ) To whom you are by bond engag'd to pay The sixteene thousand pound , which is her portion , Due to her husband , on her marriage-day . I speake the truth , and nothing but the truth . Iro . You 'll pay it now , Sir Moath , with interest ? You see the truth breaks out on every side of you . Int. Into what nets of cous'nage am I cast On ev'ry side ? each thred is growne a noofe : A very mesh : I have run my selfe into A double breake , of paying twice the money . Bia. You shall be releas'd of paying me a penny , With these conditions . Pol. Will you leave her then ? Bia. Yes , and the summe , twice told , ere take a wife , To pick out Mounsieur Needles basting threds . Com. Gossip you are paid : though he be a fit nature , Worthy to have a Whore justly put on him ; He is not bad enough to take your Daughter , On such a cheat . Will you yet pay the portion ? Int. What will you 'bate ? Com. No penny the Law gives . Int. Yes , Bias's money . Com. What ? your friend in Court ? I will not rob you of him , nor the purchase , Nor your deare Doctor here , stand altogether . Birds of a nature all , and of a feather . Lad. Well , wee are all now reconcil'd to truth . There rests yet a Gratuitie from me , To be conferr'd upon this Gentleman ; Who ( as my Nephew Compasse sayes ) was cause , First of th' offence , but since of all th' amends , The Quarrell caus'd th' affright ; that fright brought on The travell , which made peace ; the peace drew on This new discovery , which endeth all In reconcilement . Com. When the portion Is tender'd , and receiv'd . Int. Well , you must have it , As good at first as last . 'T is well said brother . And I , if this good Captaine will accept me , Give him my selfe , endow him with my estate , And make him Lord of me , and all my fortunes : He that hath sav'd my houre , though by chance , I le really study his , and how to thanke him . Iro . And ● imbrace you , Lady , and your goodnesse , And vow to quit all thought of warre hereafter ; Save what is fought under your colours , Madam . Pal. More worke then for the Parson ; I shall cap The Loadstone with an Ironside , I see . Iro . And take in these , the forlorne Couple , with us , Needle , and 's Thred , whose portion I will thinke on ; As being a busines , waiting on my bounty : Thus I doe take possession of you , Madam , My true Magnetick Mistris , and my Lady .
The end .
CHORUS Changed into an EPILOGVE : To the KING . WEll , Gentlemen , I now must under seale , And th' Authors charge , waive you , and make my ' appeale To the supremest power , my LORD , the KING ; Who best can judge of what wee humbly bring . Hee knowes our weaknesse , and the Poets faults ; Where he doth stand upright , goe firme , or halts ; And hee will doome him . To which voice he stands , And prefers that , 'fore all the Peoples hands .

A TALE OF A TUB .

A COMEDY composed By BEN : IOHNSON .

Catul. —

Inficeto est inficetior rure .

LONDON , Printed M.DC.XL .

The Persons that act . CHAN HVGH , Vicar of Pancrace , and Captaine Thums . SQVIRE TVB , Of Totten-Court , or Squire TRIPOLY . BASKET HILTS , His man , and Governour . IV●● PREAMBLE , Of Maribone , alias Bramble . MILES METAPHOR , His Clarke . LADY TVB , Of Totten , the Squires Mother . POL-MARTEN , Her Huisher . DIDO WISPE her woman . TOBIE TVRFE , High Constable of Kentish Towne . DA: SIBIL TVRFE His Wife . Mrs. AWDREY TVRFE , Their Daughter the Bride . IOHN CLAY , Of Kilborne Tile-maker , the appointed Bride-groome . IN-AND-IN . MEDLAY . Of Islington , Cooper and Headborough . RASI : CLENCH , Of Hamsted , Farrier , and petty Constable . TO-PAN , Tinker , or Mettal-man of Belsise . Thirdborough . D' OGE : SCRIBEN , Of Chalcot the great Writer . BALL PVPPY , The high Constables man . FATHER ROSIN , The Minstrell , and His 2 Boyes . IONE , IOYCE , Maids of the Bridall . MADGE , PARNEL , Maids of the Bridall . GRISELL , KATE . Maids of the Bridall . BLACK IACK , The Lady Tubs Butler . 2 Groomes . The Scene , Finsbury-hundred .
PROLOGVE . NO State-affaires , nor any politique Club , Pretend wee in our Tale , here , of a Tub. But acts of Clownes and Constables , to day Stuffe out the Scenes of our ridiculous Play . A Coopers wit , or some such busie Sparke , Illumining the high Constable , and his Clarke . And all the Neighbour-hood , from old Records , Of antick Proverbs , drawne from Whitson-Lord's , And their Authorities , at Wakes and Ales , With countrey precedents , and old Wives Tales ; Wee bring you now , to shew what different things The Cotes of Clownes , are from the Courts of Kings .
A TALE OF A TUB .
ACT I.
SCENE I. Sir Hugh . Tub. Hilts. Hug. NOw o' my faith , old Bishop Valentine , You ' ha' brought us nipping weather : Februere Doth cut and sheare ; your day , and diocesse Are very cold . All your Parishioners ; As well your Layicks , as your Quiristers , Had need to keepe to their warme Fether-beds , If they be sped of loves : this is no season , To seeke new Makes in ; though Sir Hugh of Pancrace , Be hither come to Totten , on intelligence , To the young Lord o' the Mannor , Squire Tripoly , On such an errand as a Mistris is . What , Squire ! I say ? Tub. I should call him too : Sir Peter Tub was his father , a Salt-peeter-man ; Who left his Mother , Lady Tub of Totten - Court , here , to revell , and keepe open house in ; With the young Squire her sonne , and 's Governour Basket - Hilts , both by sword , and dagger : Domine , Armiger Tub , Squire Tripoly , Expergiscere . I dare not call aloud , lest she should heare me ; And thinke I conjur'd up the spirither , sonne , In Priests-lack - latine : O shee is jealous Of all man-kind for him . Tub. Chanon , i' st you ? At the Windor . He comes downe in his night Gowne . Hug. The Vicar of Pancrace , Squire Tub ! wa ' hoh ! Tub. I come , I stoop unto the call ; Sir Hugh ! Hug. He knowes my lure is from his Love : faire Awdrey , Th' high Constables Daughter of Kentish Towne , here Mr. Tobias Turfe . Tub. What newes of him ? Hug. He has wak'd me , An houre before I would , Sir . And my duty , To the young worship of Totten-Court , Squire Tripoly ; Who hath my heart , as I have his : your Mrs. Is to be made away from you , this morning , Saint Valentines day : there are a knot of Clownes , The Counsell of Finsbury , so they are y-styl'd , Met at her Fathers ; all the wise o' th' hundred ; Old Basi ' Clench of Hamsted , petty Constable ; In-and-In Medlay , Cooper of Islington , And Headborough ; with lowd To-Pan the Tinker , Or Mettall-man of Belsise , the Third-borough : And D'ogenes Scriben , the great Writer of Chalcot . Tub. And why all these ? Hug. Sir to conclude in Counsell , A Husband , or a Make for Mrs. Awdrey ; Whom they have nam'd , and prick'd downe , Clay of Kilborne , A tough young fellow , and a Tile-maker . Tub. And what must he doe ? Hugh . Cover her , they say : And keepe her warme Sir : Mrs. Awdrey Turfe , Last night did draw him for her Valentine ; Which chance , it hath so taken her Father , and Mother , ( Because themselves drew so , on Valentine's Eve Was thirty yeare ) as they will have her married To day by any meanes ; they have sent a Messenger To Kilborne , post , for Clay ; which when I knew , I posted with the like to worshipfull Tripoly , The Squire of Totten : and my advise to crosse it . Tub. What is 't Sir Hugh ? Hugh . Where is your Governour Hilts ? Basquet must doe it . Tub. Basquet shall be call'd : Hilts , can you see to rise ? Hil. Ch am not blind Sir With too much light . Tub. Open your tother eye , And view if it be day . Hil. Che can spy that At 's little a hole , as another , through a Milstone . Tub. Hee will ha' the last word , though he talke Bilke for 't . Hugh . Bilke ? what 's that ? Tub. Why nothing , a word signifying Nothing ; and borrow'd here to expresse nothing . Hugh . A fine device ! Tub. Yes , till we heare a finer . What 's your device now , Chanon Hugh ? Hugh . In private . Lend it your eare ; I will not trust the ayre with it ; Or scarce my Shire ; my Cassock sha' not know it ; If I thought it did , I le burne it . Tub. That 's the way , You ha' thought to get a new one , Hugh : Is' t worth it ? They whisper . Hilts enters , and walkes by , making himselfe ready . Let 's heare it first . Hugh . Then hearken , and receive it . This 't is Sir , doe you relish it ? Tub. If Hilts Be close enough to carry it ; there 's all . Hil. It i'no sand ? nor Butter-milke ? If 't be , Ich'am no zive or watring pot , to draw Knots i' your ' casions . If you trust me , zo : If not , praforme it your zelves . ' Cham no mans wife , But resolute Hilts : you 'll vind me i' the Buttry . Tub. A testie Clowne : but a tender Clowne , as wooll : And melting as the Weather in a Thaw : Hee 'll weepe you , like all Aprill : But he ' ull roare you Like middle March afore : He will be as mellow , And tipsie too , as October : And as grave , And bound up like a frost ( with the new yeare ) In Ianuary ; as rigid , as he is rusticke . Hug. You know his nature , and describe it well ; I le leave him to your fashioning . Tub. Stay , Sir Hugh ; Take a good Angell with you , for your Guide : And let this guard you home-ward , as the blessing , To our devise . Hug. I thanke you Squires-worship , Most humbly ( for the next , for this I am sure of . ) The Squire goes off . O for a Quire of these voices , now , To chime in a mans pocket , and cry chinke ! One doth not chirpe : it makes no harmony . Grave Justice Bramble , next must contribute ; His charity must offer at this wedding : I le bid more to the Bason , and the Bride-ale ; Although but one can beare away the Bride . I smile to thinke how like a Lottery These Weddings are . Clay hath her in possession ; The Squire he hopes to circumvent the Tile-Kill : And now , if Justice Bramble doe come off , 'T is two to one but Tub may loose his botome .
ACT I. SCENE II. Clench . Medlay . Scriben . Pan. Puppy . Cle. Why , 't is thirty yeare , eene as this day now : Zin Valentines day , of all dayes cursin'd , looke you ; And the zame day o' the moneth , as this Zin Valentine , Or I am vowly deceiv'd . Med. That our High Constable , Mr. Tobias Turfe , and his Dame were married . I thinke you are right . But what was that Zin Valentine ? Did you ever know 'um , Good-man Clench ? Cle. Zin Valentine , Hee was a deadly Zin , and dwelt at High-gate , As I have heard , but 't was avore my time : Hee was a Cooper too , as you are . Medlay , An' In-an-In : A woundy , brag young vellow : As th' port went o'hun , then , and i' those dayes . Scri. Did he not write his name , Sim Valentine ? Vor I have met no Sin in Finsbury bookes ; And yet I have writ 'hem sixe or seven times over . Pan. O' you mun looke for the nine deadly Sims , I' the Church bookes , Doge ' ; not the ' high Constables ; Nor i' the Counties : Zure , that same Zin Valentine , Hee was a stately Zin : an' hee were a Zin , And kept ' brave house . Cle. At the Cock and Hen , in High-gate . You ha' ' fresh'd my rememory well in 't ! neighbour Pan : He had a place , in last King Harrie's time , Of sorting all the young couples ; joyning 'hem : And putting 'hem together ; which is , yet , Praform'd , as on his day — Zin Valentine ; As being the Zin o' the shire , or the whole Countie : I am old Rivet still , and beare a braine , The Clench , the Varrier , and true Leach of Hamsted . Pan. You are a shrewd antiquity , neighbour Clench ! And a great Guide to all the Parishes ! The very Bel-wether of the Hundred , here , As I may zay . Mr. Tobias Turfe , High Constable , would not misse you , for a' score unus , When he doe ' scourse of the great Charty to us . Pup . What 's that , a Horse ? Can scourse nought but a Horse ? I neere read o' hun , and that in Smith-veld Chartie : I' the old Fabians Chronicles : nor I thinke In any new . He may be a Giant there , For I ought I know . Scri. You should doe well to study Records , Fellow Ball , both Law and Poetry . Pup . Why , all 's but writing , and reading , is it Scriben ? An 't be any more , it 's meere cheating zure . Vlat cheating : all your Law , and Poets too . Pan. Mr. High Constable comes . Pup . I le zay 't avore ' hun .
ACT I. SCENE III. Turfe . Clench . Medlay . Scriben . Puppy . Pan. Tur. What 's that , makes you'all so merry , and lowd , Sirs , ha ? I could ha' heard you to my privie walke . Cle. A Contervarsie , 'twixt your two learn'd men here : Annibal Puppy sayes , that Law and Poetry Are both flat cheating ; All 's but writing and reading , He sayes , be 't verse or prose . Tur. I thinke in conzience , He do ' zay true ? Who is 't doe thwart ' un , ha ? Med. Why my friend Scriben , and 't please your worship . Tur. Who D'oge ? my D'ogenes ? a great Writer , marry ! Hee 'll vace mee down , mee my selfe sometimes , That verse goes upon veete , as you and I doe : But I can gi' ' un the hearing ; zit me downe ; And laugh at ' un ; and to my selfe conclude , The greatest Clarkes , are not the wisest men Ever . Here they ' are both ! What Sirs , disputin , And holdin Arguments of verse , and prose ? And no greene thing afore the Door , that shewes , Or speakes a wedding ? Scr. Those were verses now , Your worship spake , and run upon vive feet . Tur. Feet , vrom my mouth , D'oge ? Leave your ' zurd uppinions : And get me in some boughes . Scr. Let 'hem ha' leaves first . There 's nothing greene but Bayes , and Rosemary . Pup . And they 're too good for strewings , your Maids say . Tur. You take up ' dority still , to vouch against me . All the twelve smocks i' the house , zur , are your Authors . Get some fresh hay then , to lay underfoot : Some Holly and Ivie , to make vine the posts : Is' t not Sonne Valentines day ? and Mrs. Awdrey , Your young Dame to be married ? I wonder Clay Should be so tedious : Hee 's to play Sonne Valentine ! And the Clowne sluggard's not come fro' Kilborne yet ? Med. Do you call your Son i' Law Clowne , and 't please your worship ? Tur. Yes , and vor worship too ; my neighbour Medlay . A Midlesex Clowns and one of Finsbury : They were the first Colon's o' the kingdome here : The Primitory Colon's ; my D'ogenes sayes . Where 's D'ogenes , my Writer now ? What were those You told me , D'ogenes , were the first Colon's O' the Countrey ? that the Romans brought in here ? Scr. The Coloni . Sir , Colonus is an Inhabitant : A Clowne originall : as you 'ld zay a Farmer , a Tiller o' th' Earth , Ere sin ' the Romans planted their Colonie first , Which was in Midlesex . Tur. Why so , I thanke you heartily , good D'ogenes , you ha' zertified me . I had rather be an ancient Colon , ( as they zay ) a Clowne of Midlesex : A good rich Farmer , or high Constable . I 'ld play hun ' gaine a Knight , or a good Squire ; Or Gentleman of any other Countie I' the Kindome . Pan. Out cept Kent , for there they landed All Gentlemen , and came in with the Conquerour , Mad Iulius Caesar ; who built Dover-Castle : My Ancestor To Pan , beat the first Ketle-drum , Avore ' hun , here vrom Dover on the March : Which peice of monumentall copper hangs Vp , scourd , at Hammer-smith yet ; for there they came Over the Thames , at a low water marke ; Vore either London , I , or Kingston Bridge — I doubt were kursind . Tur. Zee , who is here : Iohn Clay● Zonne Valentine , and Bride-groome ! ha' you zeene Your Valentine-Bride yet , sin ' you came ? Iohn Clay ?
ACT I. SCENE IV. Clay . To them . Cla. No wusse . Che lighted , I , but now i' the yard : Puppy ha' scarce unswadled my legges yet . Tur. What ? wispes'o ' your wedding day , zonne ? This is right Originous Clay : and Clay o' Kilborne too ! I would ha' had bootes o' this day , zure , zonne Iohn . Cla. I did it to save charges : we mun dance , O this day , zure : and who can dance in boots ? No , I got on my best straw-coloured stockins , And swaddeld 'hem over to zave charges ; I. Tur. And his new shamois Doublet too with points ; I like that yet : and his long sawsedge-hose , Like the Commander of foure smoaking Tile-kils , Which he is Captaine of ; Captaine of Kilborne : Clay with his hat turn'd up , o' the leere side , too : As if he would leape my Daughter yet ere night , And spring a new Turfe to the old house : Looke , and the wenches ha' not vound un out ; And doe parzent un , with a van of Rosemary , And Bayes ; to vill a Bow-pot , trim the head Of my best vore-horse : wee shall all ha' Bride-laces , Or points , I zee ; my Daughter will be valiant ; And prove a very Mary Anbry i' the busines . Cle. They zaid , your worship had sur'd her to Squire Tub Of Totten-Court here ; all the hundred rings on 't . Tur. A Tale of a Tub , Sir ; a meere tale of a Tub. Lend it no eare I pray you : The Squire Tub Is a fine man , but he is too fine a man , And has a Lady Tub too to his Mother : I le deale with none o' these vine silken Tubs . Iohn Clay , and Cloath-breech for my money , and Daughter . Here comes another old Boy too , vor his colours Enter Father Rosin . Will stroake downe my wives udder of purses , empty Of all her milke money , this Winter Quarter ; Old Father Rosin , the chiefe Minstrell here : Chiefe Minstrell too of High gate : she has hir'd him And all , his two Boyes for a day and a halfe , And now they come for Ribbanding , and Rosemary ; Give 'hem enough Girles , gi' 'hem enough , and take it Out in his tunes anon . Cle. I 'll ha' Tom Tiler , For our Iohn Clay's sake , and the Tile kils , zure . Med. And I the jolly Joyner , for mine owne sake . Pan. I le ha' the joviall Tinker for To. Pans sake . Tur. Wee 'll all be jovy this day , vor sonne Valentine . My sweet sonne Iohn's sake . Scri. There 's another reading now : My Mr. reades it Sonne , and not Sinne Valentine . Pup . Nor Zim : And hee is i' the right : He is high Constable . And who should reade above un , or avore ' hun ? Tur. Sonne Iohn shall bid us welcome all , this day : Wee 'll zerve under his colours : Leade the troop Iohn , And Puppy ; see the Bels ring . Presse all noises Of Finsbury , in our name ; D'ogenes Scriben Shall draw a score of warrants vor the busines . Do's any wight parzent hir Majesties person , This Hundred , 'bove the high Constable ? All. No , no. Tur. Vse our Authority then , to the utmost on 't .
ACT I. SCENE V. Hugh . Preamble . Metaphor . Hugh . So , you are sure Sir to prevent 'hem all ; And throw a block i' the Bride-groomes way , Iohn Clay , That he will hardly leape ore . Pre. I conceive you , Sir Hugh ; as if your Rhetoricke would say , Whereas the Father of her is a Turfe , A very superficies of the earth ; Hee aimes no higher , then to match in Clay ; And there hath pitch'd his rest . Hug. Right Justice Bramble ; You ha' the winding wit , compassing all . Pre. Subtile Sir Hugh , you now are i' the wrong , And erre with the whole Neighbour-hood , I must tell you ; For you mistake my name . Justice Preamble I write my selfe ; which with the ignorant Clownes , here ( Because of my profession of the Law , And place o' the peace ) is taken to be Bramble . But all my warrants Sir , doe run Preamble : Richard Preamble . Hugh . Sir I thanke you for 't . That your good worship , would not let me run Longer in error but would take me up thus — Pre. You are my learned , and canonick neighbour : I would not have you stray ; but the incorrigible Knot-headed beast , the Clownes , or Constables , Still let them graze ; eat Sallads ; chew the Cud : All the Towne-musicke will not move a log . Hug. The Beetle and Wedges will , where you will have 'hem . Pre. True , true Sir Hugh , here comes Miles Metaphore , My Clarke : Hee is the man shall carry it , Chanon , By my instructions . Hug. Hee will do 't ad unguem , Miles Metaphore : Hee is a pretty fellow . Pre. I love not to keepe shadowes , or halfe-wits , To foile a busines . Metaphore ! you ha' seene A King ride forth in state . Met. Sir that I have : King Edward our late Leige , and soveraigne Lord : And have set downe the pompe . Pre. Therefore I ask'd you . Ha' you observ'd the Messengers o' the Chamber ? What habits they were in ? Met. Yes ; Minor Coats . Vnto the Guard , a Dragon , and a Grey-hound , For the supporters of the Armes . Pre. Well mark'd ; You know not any of 'hem ? Met. Here 's one dwels In Maribone . Pre. Ha' you acquaintance with him ? To borrow his coat an houre ? Hug. Or but his badge , 'T will serve : A little thing he weares on his brest . Pre. His coat , I say , is of more authority : Borrow his coat for an houre . I doe love To doe all things compleately , Chanon Hugh ; Borrow his coat , Miles Metaphore , or nothing . Met. The Taberd of his office , I will call it , Or the Coat-Armour of his place : and so Insinuate with him by that Trope — . Metaph. goes out . Pre. I know your powers of Rhetorick , Metaphore . Fetch him off in a fine figure for his coat I say . Hug. I le take my leave Sir of your worship too : Bycause I may expect the issue anone . Pre. Stay my diviner Counsell , take your fee ; Wee that take fees , allow 'hem to our Counsell ; And our prime learned Counsell , double fees : There are a brace of Angels to support you I' your foot-walke this frost , for feare of falling ; Or spraying of a point of Matrimony , When you come at it . Hug. I' your worships service ; That the exploit is done , and you possest Preamble goes out . Of Mrs. Awdrey Turfe — Pre. I like your project . Hug. And I , of this effect of two to one ; It worketh in my pocket , 'gainst the Squire , And his halfe bottome here , of halfe a peice : Which was not worth the stepping ore the stile for : His Mother has quite marr'd him : Lady Tub , She 's such a vessell of faeces : all dry'd earth ! Terra damnata , not a drop of salt ! Or Peeter in her ! All her Nitre is gone .
ACT I. SCENE VI. Lady Tub. Pol-Marten . Lad. Is the Nag ready Marten ? call the Squire . This frosty morning wee will take the aire , About the fields : for I doe meane to be Some-bodies Valentine , i' my Velvet Gowne , This morning , though it be but a beggar-man . Why stand you still , and doe not call my sonne ? Pol. Madam , if he had couched with the Lambe , He had no doubt beene stirring with the Larke : But he sat up at Play , and watch'd the Cock , Till his first warning chid him off to rest . Late Watchers are no early Wakers , Madam ; But if your Ladiship will have him call'd — . Lad. Will have him call'd ? Wherefore did I , Sir , bid him Be call'd , you Weazell , Vermin of an Huisher ? You will returne your wit to your first stile Of Marten Polcat , by these stinking tricks , If you doe use 'hem : I shall no more call you Pol-marten , by the title of a Gentleman , Pol-marten goes out . If you goe on thus — Pol. I am gone . Lad. Be quick then , I' your come off : and make amends you Stote ! Was ever such a Full-mart for an Huisher , To a great worshipfull Lady , as my selfe ; Who , when I heard his name first , Martin Poleat , A stinking name , and not to be pronounc'd Without a reverence . In any Ladies presence ; my very heart eene earn'd , seeing the Fellow Young , pretty and handsome ; being then I say , A Basket-Carrier , and a man condemn'd To the Salt-peeter workes ; made it my suit To Mr. Peeter Tub , that I might change it ; And call him as I doe now , by Pol-marten , To have it sound like a Gentleman in an Office , And made him mine owne Fore-man , daily waiter , And he to serve me thus ! Ingratitude ! Beyond the Coursenes yet of any Clownage , Shewen to a Lady ! what now , is he stirring ? Hev●urnes . Pol. Stirring betimes out of his bed , and ready . Lad. And comes he then ? Pol. No Madam , he is gone . Lad. Gone ? whither ? aske the Porter : Where 's he gone ? Pol. I met the Porter , and have ask'd him for him ; He sayes he let him forth an houre agoe . Lad. An houre agoe ! what busines could he have , So early ? where is his man , grave Basket Hilts ? His Guide , and Governour ? Pol. Gone with his Master . Lad. Is he gone too ? O that same surly knave , Is his right hand : and leads my sonne amisse . He has carried him to some drinking match , or other : Pol-marten , I will call you so againe ; I'am friends with you now . Goe get your horse , and ride To all the Townes about here , where his haunts are ; And crosse the fields to meet , and bring me word ; He cannot be gone farre , being a foot . Be curious to inquire him : and bid Wispe My woman come , and waite on me . The love Wee Mothers beare our Sonnes , we ha' bought with paine , Makes us oft view them , with too carefull eyes , And over-looke 'hem with a jealous feare , Out-fitting Mothers .
ACT I. SCENE VII . Lady Tub. Wispe . Lad. How now Wispe ? Ha' you A Valentine yet : I 'm taking th' aire to choose one . Wis. Fate send your Ladiship a fit one then . Lad. What kind of one is that ? Wis. A proper man , To please your Ladiship . Lad. Out o' that vanity , That takes the foolish eye : Any poore creature , Whose want may need my almes , or courtesie ; I rather wish ; so Bishop Valentine , Left us example to doe deeds of Charity ; To feed the hungry ; cloath the naked , visit The weake , and sicke ; to entertaine the poore ; And give the dead a Christian Funerall ; These were the workes of piety he did practise , And bad us imitate ; not looke for Lovers , Or handsome Images to please our senses . I pray thee Wispe , deale freely with me now : Wee are alone , and may be merry a little : Tho' art none o' the Court-glories ; nor the wonders For wit , or beauty i' the Citie : tell me , What man would satisfie thy present phansie ? Had thy ambition leave to choose a Valentine , Within the Queenes Dominion , so a subject . Wis. Yo' ha' gi' me a large scope , Madam , I confesse , And I will deale with your Ladiship sincerely : I 'll utter my whole heart to you . I would have him , The bravest , richest , and the properest man A Taylor could make up ; or all the Poets , With the Perfumers : I would have him such , As not another woman , but should spite me : Three Citie Ladies should run mad for him : And Countri-Madams infinite . Lad. You 'ld spare me , And let me hold my wits ? Wis. I should with you — For the young Squire , my Masters sake : dispense A little ; but it should be very little . Then all the Court-wives I 'ld ha' jealous of me ; As all their husbands jealous of them : And not a Lawyers Pusse of any quality , But lick her lips , for a snatch in the Terme time . Lad. Come , Let 's walke : wee 'll heare the rest , as we goe on : You are this morning in a good veine , Dido : Would I could be as merry . My sonnes absence Troubles me not a little : though I seeke These wayes to put it off ; which will not helpe : Care that is entred , once into the brest , Will have the whole possession , ere it rest .
ACT II.
SCENE I. Turfe . Clay . Medlay . Clench . To. Pan. Scriben . Puppy . Tur. ZOnne Clay , cheare up , the better leg avore : This is a veat is once done , and no more . Cle. And then 't is done vor ever , as they say . Med. Right ! vor a man ha' his houre , and a dog his day . Tur. True neighbour Medlay , yo' are still In-and-In . Med. I would be Mr. Constable , if ' ch' could win . Pan. I zay , Iohn Clay , keepe still on his old gate : Wedding , and hanging , both goe at a rate . Tur. Well said To-Pan : you ha' still the hap to hit The naile o' the head at a close : I thinke there ne ver Marriage was manag'd with a more avisement , Then was this mariage , though I say 't , that should not ; Especially 'gain ' mine owne flesh , and blood ; My wedded Wife . Indeed my Wife would ha' had All the young Batchelers and Maids , forsooth , O' the zixe Parishes hereabout : But I Cry'd none , sweet Sybil : none of that geare , I : It would lick zalt , I told her , by her leave . No , three , or voure our wise , choise honest neighbours : Vpstantiall persons : men that ha' borne office : And mine owne Family , would bee inough To eate our dinner . What ? Deare meate 's a theife : I know it by the Butchers , and the Mercat-volke ; Hum drum I cry . No halfe-Oxe in a Pie : A man that 's bid to Bride-ale , if hee ha' cake , And drinke enough , hee need not veare his stake . Cle. T is right : he has spoke as true as a Gun ; beleeve it . Tur. Come Sybil , come : Did not I tell you o' this ? This pride , and muster of women would marre all ? Sixe women to one Daughter , and a Mother ! The Queene ( God save her ) ha' no more her selfe . D. Tur. Why , if you keepe so many , Mr. Turfe , Why , should not all present our service to her ? Tur. Your service ? good ! I thinke you 'll write to her shortly , Your very loving and obedient Mother . Tur. Come , send your Maids off , I will have 'hem sent Home againe wife : I love no traines o' Kent , Or Christendome , as they say . Sc. Wee will not back , And leave our Dame . Mad. Why should her worship lack Her taile of Maids , more then you doe of men ? Tur. What , mutinin Madge ? Io. Zend back your C'lons agen . And wee will vollow . All. Else wee 'll guard our Dame . Tur. I ha' zet the nest of waspes all on a flame . D. Tur. Come , you are such another Mr. Turfe : A Clod you should be call'd , of a high Constable : To let no musicke goe afore your child , To Church , to cheare her heart up this cold morning . Tur. You are for Father Rosin , and his consort Of fidling Boyes , the great Feates , and the lesse : Bycause you have entertain'd 'hem all from High-gate . To shew your pompe , you 'ld ha' your Daughter , and Maids Dance ore the fields like Faies , to Church this frost ? I le ha' no rondels , I , i' the Queenes pathes ; Let ' un scrape the Gut at home , where they ha' fill'd it At after-noone . D. Turfe . I le ha' 'hem play at dinner . Ite . She is i' th' right , Sir ; vor your wedding dinner Is starv'd without the Musicke . Med. If the Pies Come not in piping hot , you ha' lost that Proverbe . Tur. I yield to truth : wife are you sussified ? Pan. A right good man ! when he knowes right , he loves it . Scri. And he will know 't , and shew 't too by his place Of being high Constable , if no where else .
ACT II. SCENE II. Hilts bearded , booted and spur'd . To them . Hil. Well over-taken , Gentlemen ! I pray you , Which is the Queenes High Constable among you ? Pup . The tallest man : who should be else , doe you thinke ? Hil. It is no matter what I thinke , young Clowne : Your answer favours of the Cart. Pup .

How ? Cart ? and Clowne ? Doe you know whose teame you speake to ?

Hil. No : nor I care not : Whose Jade may you be ? Pup . Jade ? Cart ? and Clowne ? O for a lash of whip-cord ! Three-knotted coard ! Hil. Doe you mutter ? Sir , snorle this way ; That I may heare , and answer what you say , With my schoole-dagger , 'bout your Costard Sir . Looke to 't , young growse : I le lay it on , and sure ; Take 't off who 's wull . Cle. Nay , pray you Gentleman — . Hil. Goe too : I will not bate him an ace on 't . What ? Rowle-powle ? Maple-face ? All fellowes ? Pup . Doe you heare friend , I wou'd wish you , vor your good , Tie up your brended Bitch there , your dun rustie Pannyer-hilt poinard : and not vexe the youth With shewing the teeth of it . Wee now are going To Church , in way of matrimony , some on us : Tha ' rung all in a'ready . If it had not , All the horne beasts are grazing i' this close , Sould not ha' pull ' me hence , till this Ash-plant Had rung noone o' your pate , Mr. Broome-beard . Hil. That would I faine zee , quoth the blind George Of Holloway : Come Sir . Awd . O their naked weapons ! Pan. For the passion of man , hold Gentleman , and Puppy . Cla. Murder , O Murder ! Awd . O my Father , and Mother ! D. Tur. Husband , what doe you meane ? Sonne Clay for Gods sake — Tur. I charge you in the Queenes name , keepe the peace . Hil. Tell me o' no Queene , or Keysar : I must have A legge , or a hanch of him , ere I goe . Med. But zir , You must obey the Queenes high Officers . Hil. Why must I , Good-man Must ? Med. You must , an' you wull . Tur. Gentleman , I 'am here for fault , high Constable — Hil. Are you zo ? what then ? Tur. I pray you Sir put up Your weapons ; doe , at my request : For him , On my authority , he shall lie by the heeles , Verbatim continente , an' I live . D. Tur. Out on him for a knave , what a dead fright He has put me into ? Come Awdrey , doe not shake . Awd . But is not Puppy hurt ? nor the tother man ? Cla. No Bun ; but had not I cri'd Murder , I wusse — Pup . Sweet Good-man Clench , I pray you revise my Mr. I may not zit i' the stocks , till the wedding be past Dame . Mrs. Awdrey : I shall breake the Bride-cake else . Cle. Zomething must be , to save authority , Puppy . D. Tur. Husband — Cle. And Gossip — Awd . Father — Tur. ‛ Treat mee not . It is i' vaine . If he lye not by the heeles , I le lie there for ' hun . I le teach the Hine , To carry a tongue in his head , to his subperiors . Hil. This 's a wise Constable ! where keepes he schoole ? Cle. In Kentish Towne , a very survere man . Hil. But as survere as he is ; Let me Sir tell him , He sha' not lay his man by the heeles for this . This was my quarrell : And by his office leave , If 't carry ' hun for this , it shall carry double ; Vor he shall carry me too . Tur. Breach of man ! Hee is my chattell , mine owne hired goods : An' if you doe abet ' un in this matter , I le clap you both by the heeles , ankle to ankle . Hilt . You 'll clap a dog of waxe as soone , old Blurt ? Come , spare not me , Sir ; I am no mans wife : I care not , I , Sir , not three skips of a Lowse for you , And you were ten tall Constables , not I. Tur. Nay , pray you Sir , be not angry ; but content : My man shall make you , what amends you 'll aske ' hun . Hil. Let ' hun mend his manners then , and know his betters : It 's all I aske ' hun : and 't will be his owne ; And 's Masters too , another day . Che vore ' hun . Med. As right as a Club , still . Zure this angry man Speakes very neere the marke , when he is pleas'd . Pup . I thanke you Sir , an' I meet you at Kentish Towne , I ha' the courtesie o' hundred for you . Hil. Gramercy , good high Constables Hine . But hear you ? Mass : Constable , I have other manner o' matter , To bring you about , then this . And so it is , I doe belong to one o' the Queenes Captaines ; A Gent'man o' the Field , one Captaine Thum's : I know not , whether you know ' hun , or no : It may be You doe , and 't may be you doe not againe . Tur. No , I assure you on my Constable-ship , I doe not know ' hun . Hil. Nor I neither i' faith . It skils not much ; my Captaine , and my selfe , Having occasion to come riding by , here , This morning , at the corner of Saint Iohn's wood , Some mile o' this Towne , were set upon By a sort of countrey fellowes : that not onely Beat us , but rob'd us , most sufficiently ; And bound us to our behaviour , hand and foot ; And so they left us . Now , Don Constable , I am to charge you in her Majesties name , As you will answer it at your apperill , That forth-with you raise Hue and Cry i' the Hundred , For all such persons as you can dispect , By the length and bredth , o' your office : vor I tell you , The losse is of some value , therefore looke to 't . Tur. As Fortune mend me , now , or any office Of a thousand pound , if I know what to zay , Would I were dead ; or vaire hang'd up at Tiburne , If I doe know what course to take ; or how To turne my selfe ; just at this time too , now , My Daughter is to bemarried : I le but goe To Pancridge Church , hard by , and returne instantly , And all my Neighbour-hood shall goe about it . Hil. Tut , Pancridge me no Pancridge , if you let it Slip , you will answer it , and your Cap be of wooll ; Therefore take heed , you 'll feele the smart else , Constable . Tur. Nay , good Sir stay . Neighbours ! what thinke you o' this ? D. Tur. Faith , Man — . Odd pretious woman , hold your tongue ; And mind your pigs o' the spit at home ; you must Have Ore in every thing . Pray you Sir , what kind Of fellowes were they ? Hil. Theev's kind , I ha' told you . Tur. I meane , what kind of men ? Hil. Men of our make . Tur. Nay , but with patience , Sir , we that are Officers Must 'quire the speciall markes , and all the tokens Of the despected parties , or perhaps — else , Be nere the nere of our purpose in ' prehending 'hem . Can you tell , what ' parrell any of them wore ? Hil. Troth no : there were so many o' hun , all like So one another : Now I remember me , There was one busie fellow , was their Leader ; A blunt squat swad , but lower then your selfe , He ' had on a Lether Doublet , with long points . And a paire of pin'd-up breech's , like pudding bags : With yellow stockings , and his hat turn'd up With a silver Claspe , on his leere side . D. Tur. By these Markes it should be Iohn Clay , now blesse the man ! Tur. Peace , and be nought : I thinke the woman be phrensick . Hil. Iohn Clay ? what 's he , good Mistris ? Awd . He that shall be My husband — Hil. How ! your husband , pretty one ? Awd . Yes , I shall anone be married : That 's he . Tur. Passion o' me , undone ! Pup . Blesse Masters sonne ! Hil. O you are well' prehended : know you me Sir ? Clay . No's my record : I never zaw you avore . Hil. You did not ? where were your eyes then ? out at washing ? Tur. What should a man zay ? who should he trust In these dayes ? Harke you Iohn Clay , if you have Done any such thing , tell troth , and shame the Divell . Cle. Vaith doe : my Gossip Turfe zaies well to you Iohn . Med. Speake man , but doe not convesse , nor be avraid . Pan. A man is a man , and a beast's a beast , looke to 't . D. Tur. I' the name of men , or beasts ! what doe you doe ? Hare the poore fellow out on his five wits , And seven senses ? Doe not weepe Iohn Clay . I sweare the poore wretch is as guilty from it , As the Child was , was borne this very morning . Cla. No , as I am a kyrsin soule , would I were hang'd If ever I — alasse I ! would I were out Of my life , so I would I were , and in againe — Pup . Nay , Mrs. Awdrey will say nay to that . No , In-and-out ? an' you were out o' your life , How should she doe for a husband ? who should fall Aboord o' her then , Ball ? He 's a Puppy ? No ; Hanniball has no breeding : well ! I say little ; But hitherto all goes well , pray it prove no better . Awd . Come Father ; I would wee were married : I am a cold . Hil. Well , Mr. Constable , this your fine Groome here , Bride-groome , or what Groome else , soere he be , I charge him with the felonie ; and charge you To carry him back forthwith to Paddington , Vnto my Captaine , who staies my returne there : I am to goe to the next Justice of peace , To get a warrant to raise Huy and Cry , And bring him , and his fellowes all afore ' hun . Fare you well Sir , and looke to ' hun I charge you , As yo 'll answer it . Take heed ; the busines If you deferre , may prejudiciall you More then you thinke-for , zay I told you so . Hilts goes out Tur. Here 's a Bride-ale indeed ! Ah zonne Iohn , zonne Clay ! I little thought you would ha' prov'd a peece Of such false mettall . Cla. Father , will you beleeve me ? Would I might never stirre i' my new shoes , If ever I would doe so voule a fact . Tur. Well Neighbours , I doe charge you to assist me With ' hun to Paddington . Be he a true man , so : The better for ' hun . I will doe mine office , An' he were my owne begotten a thousand times . D. Tur. Why , doe you heare man ? Husband ? Mr. Turfe ! What shall my Daughter doe ? Puppy , stay here . She followes her busb . and neighbours . Awd . Mother , I le goe with you , and with my Father .
ACT II. SCENE III. Puppy . Awdrey . Hilts. Pup . Nay , stay sweet Mrs. Awdrey : here are none But one friend ( as they zay ) desires to speake A word , or two , cold with you : How doe you veele Your selfe this frosty morning ? Awd . What ha' you To doe to aske , I pray you ? I am a cold . Pup . It seemes you are hot , good Mrs. Awdrey . Awd . You lie ; I am as cold as Ice is : Feele else . Pup . Nay , you ha' coold my courage : I am past it , I ha' done feeling with you . Awd . Done with me ? I doe defie you . So I doe , to say You ha' done with me : you are a sawcy Puppy . Pup . O you mistake ! I meant not as you meane . Awd . Meant you not knavery ; Puppy ? No : not I. Clay meant you all the knavery , it seemes , Who rather , then he would be married to you , Chose to be wedded to the Gallowes first . Awd . I thought he was a dissembler ; he would prove A slippery Merchant i' the frost . Hee might Have married one first , and have beene hang'd after , If hee had had a mind to 't . But you men , Fie on you . Pup . Mrs. Awdrey , can you vind , I your heart to fancie Puppy ? me poore Ball ? Awd . You are dispos'd to jeere one , Mr. Hanniball . Enter Hilts. Pitty o' me ! the angry man with the beard ! Hil. Put on thy hat , I looke for no despect . Where 's thy Master ? Pup . Marry , he is gone With the picture of despaire , to Paddington . Hil. Pr'y thee run after ' hun , and tell ' hun he shall Find out my Captaine , lodg'd at the red - Lyon In Paddington ; that 's the Inne . Let ' un aske Vor Captaine Thum's ; And take that for thy paines : He may seeke long enough else . Hi● thee againe . Pup . Yes , Sir you 'll looke to Mrs. Bride the while ? Hil. That I will : prethee haste . Awd . What Puppy ? Puppy ? Hil. Sweet Mrs. Bride , Hee 'll come againe presently . Here was no subtile device to get a wench . This Chanon has a brave pate of his owne ! A shaven pate ! And a right monger , y' vaith ! This was his plot ! I follow Captaine Thum's ? Wee rob'd in Saint Iohn's wood ? I' my tother hose ! I laugh , to thinke what a fine fooles finger they have O this wise Constable , in pricking out This Captaine Thum's to his neighbours : you shall see The Tile-man too set fire on his owne Kill , And leap into it , to save himselfe from hanging . You talke of a Bride-ale , here was a Bride-ale broke , I' the nick . Well : I must yet dispatch this Bride , To mine owne master , the young Squire , and then My taske is done . Gen'woman ! I ' have in sort Done you some wrong , but now I le doe you what right I can : It 's true , you are a proper woman ; But to be cast away on such a Clowne-pipe As Clay ; me thinkes , your friends are not so wise As nature might have made 'hem ; well , goe too : There 's better fortune comming toward you , A● ' you doe not deject it . Take a voole's Counsell , and doe not stand i' your owne light . It may prove better then you thinke for : Looke you . Awd . Alas Sir , what is 't you would ha' me doe ? I 'ld faine doe all for the best , if I knew how . Hil. Forsake not a good turne , when 't is offered you ; Faire Mistris Awdrey , that 's your name , I take it . Awd . No Mistris , Sir , my name is Awdrey . Hil. Well , so it is , there is a bold young Squire , The blood of Totten , Tub , and Tripoly — . Awd . Squire Tub , you meane ? I know him : he knowes me too . Hil. He is in love with you : and more , he 's mad for you . Awd . I , so he told me : in his wits , I thinke . But hee 's too fine for me ; and has a Lady Tub to his Mother . Here he comes himselfe !
ACT II. SCENE IV. Tub. Hilts. Awdrey . Tub. O you are a trusty Governour ! Hil. What ailes you ? You doe not know when yo' are well , I thinke : You 'ld ha' the Calfe with the white face , Sir , would you ? I have her for you here ; what would you more ? Tub. Quietnes , Hilts , and heare no more of it . Hil. No more of it , quoth you ? I doe not care , If some on us had not heard so much of 't , I tell you true ; A man must carry , and vetch , Like Bungy's dog for you . Tub. What 's he ? Hil. A Spaniel . And scarce be spit i' the mouth for 't . A good Dog Deserves , Sir , a good bone , of a free Master : But , an' your turnes be serv'd , the divell a bit You care for a man after , ere a Lard of you . Like will to like , y-faith , quoth the scab'd Squire To th' mangy Knight , when both met in a dish Of butter'd vish . One bad , there 's nere a good ; And not a barrell better Hering among you . Tub. Nay Hilts ! I pray thee grow not fram-pull now . Turne not the bad Cow , after thy good soape . Our plot hath hitherto tane good effect : And should it now be troubled , or stop'd up , 'T would prove the utter ruine of my hopes . I pray thee haste to Pancridge , to the Chanon : And gi' him notice of our good successe ; Will him that all things be in readinesse . Faire Awdrey , and my selfe , will crosse the fields , The nearest path . Good Hilts , make thou some haste , And meet us on the way . Come gentle Awdrey . Hil. Vaith , would I had a few more geances on 't : An' you say the word , send me to Iericho . Out-cept a man were a Post-horse , I ha' not knowne The like on 't ; yet , an' he had kind words , 'T would never irke ' hun . But a man may breake His heart out i' these dayes , and get a flap With a fox-taile , when he has done . And there is all . Tub. Nay , say not so Hilts : hold thee ; there are Crownes — My love bestowes on thee , for thy reward . If Gold will please thee , all my land shall drop In bounty thus , to recompence thy merit . Hil. Tut , keepe your land , and your gold too Sir : I Seeke neither — nother of ' hun . Learne to get More : you will know to spend that zum you have Early enough : you are assur'd of me . I love you too too well , to live o' the spoyle : For your owne sake , were there were no worse then I. All is not Gold that glisters : I le to Pancridge . Tub. See , how his love doth melt him into Teares ! An honest faithfull servant is a Jewell . Now th' adventurous Squire hath time , and leisure , To aske his Awdrey how she do's , and heare A gratefull answer from her . Shee not speakes : Hath the proud Tiran , Frost , usurp'd the seate Of former beauty in my Loves faire cheek ; Staining the rose at tincture of her blood , With the dull die of blew-congealing cold ? No , sure the weather dares not so presume To hurt an object of her brightnesse . Yet , The more I view her , shee but lookes so , so . Ha ? gi' me leave to search this mysterie ! O now I have it : Bride , I know your griefe ; The last nights cold , hath bred in you such horror Of the assigned Bride-groomes constitution , The Kilborne Clay-pit ; that frost-bitten marle ; That lumpe in courage : melting cake of Ice ; That the conceit thereof hath almost kill'd thee . But I must doe thee good wench , and refresh thee . Awd . You are a merry man , Squire Tub , of Totten ! I have heard much o' your words , but not o' your deeds . Tub. Thou sayest true , sweet ; I' ha' beene too slack in deeds . Awd . Yet , I was never so straight-lac'd to you , Squire . Tub. Why , did you ever love me , gentle Awdrey ? Awd . Love you ? I cannot tell : I must hate no body , My Father sayes . Tub. Yes , Clay , and Kilburne ; Awdrey , You must hate them . Awd . It shall be for your sake then . Tub. And for my sake , shall yield you that gratuitie . Awd . He offers to kisse her . She puts him back . Soft , and faire , Squire , there goe two word 's to a bargaine . Tub. What are those Awdrey ? Awd . Nay , I cannot tell . My Mother said , zure , if you married me , You 'ld make me a Lady the first weeke : and put me In , I know not what , the very day . Tub. What was it ? Speake gentle Awdrey , thou shalt have it yet . Awd . A velvet dressing for my head , it is , They say will make one brave : I will not know Besse Moale , nor Margery Turne-up : I will looke Another way upon 'hem , and be proud . Tub. Troth I could wish my wench a better wi● ; But what she wanteth there , her face supplies . There is a pointed lustre in her eye Hath shot quite through me , and hath hit my heart : And thence it is , I first receiv'd the wound , That ranckles now , which only shee can cure . Faine would I worke my selfe , from this conceit ; But , being flesh , I cannot . I must love her , The naked truth is : and I will goe on , Were it for nothing , but to crosse my Rivall's . Come Awdrey : I am now resolv'd to ha' thee .
ACT II. SCENE V. Preamble . Metaphore . Tub. Awdrey . Pre. Nay , doe it quickly , Miles ; why shak'st thou man ? Speake but his name : I le second thee my selfe . Met. What is his name ? Pre. Squire Tripoly or Tub. Any thing — Met. Squire Tub , I doe arrest you I' the Queenes Majesties name , and all the Councels . Tub. Arrest me , Varlet ? Pre. Keepe the peace I charge you . Tub. Are you there , Justice Bramble ? where 's your warrant ? Pre. The warrant is directed here to me , From the whole table ; wherefore I would pray you Be patient Squire , and make good the peace . Tub. Well , at your pleasure , Iustice . I am wrong'd : Sirrah , what are you have arrested me ? Pre. He is a Pursy'vant at Armes , Squire Tub. Met. I am a Purs'yvant , see , by my Coat else . Tub. Well Purs'yvant , goe with me : I le give you baile . Pre. Sir he may take no baile . It is a warrant , In speciall from the Councell , and commands Your personall appearance . Sir , your weapon I must require : And then deliver you A Prisoner to this officer , Squire Tub. I pray you to conceive of me no other , Then as your friend , and neighbour . Let my person Be sever'd from my office in the fact , And I am cleare . Here Purs'yvant , receive him Into your hands ; And use him like a Gentleman . Tub I thanke you Sir : But whither must I goe now ? Pre. Nay , that must not be told you , till you come Vnto the place assign'd by his instructions . I le be the Maidens Convoy to her father , For this time , Squire . Tub. I thanke you Mr. Bramble . I doubt , or feare , you will make her the ballance To weigh your Justice in . Pray yee doe me right , And lead not her , at least out of the way . Justice is blind , and having a blind Guide , She may be apt to slip aside . Pre. I le see to her . Tub. I see my wooing will not thrive . Arrested ! As I had set my rest up , for a wife ? And being so faire for it , as I was . — . Well , fortune , Thou art a blind Bawd , and a Beggar too , To crosse me thus ; and let my onely Rivall , To get her from me ? That 's the spight of spights . But most I muse at , is , that I , being none O' th' Court , am sent for thither by the Councell ! My heart is not so light , as 't was I' the morning .
ACT II. SCENE VI. Hilts. Tub. Metaphor . Hil. You meane to make a Hoiden , or a Hare O me , t' hunt Counter thus , and makes these doubles : And you meane no such thing , as you send about ? Where 's your sweet-heart now , I marle ? Tub. Oh Hilts ! Hil. I know you of old ! nere halt afore a Criple . Will you have a Cawdle ? where 's your griefe , Sir ? speake ? Met. Doe you heare friend ? Doe you serve this Gentleman ? Hil. How then , Sir ? what if I doe ? peradventure yea : Peraventure nay , what 's that to you Sir ? Say . Met. Nay , pray you Sir , I meant no harme in truth : But this good Gentleman is arrested . Hil. How ? Say me that againe . Tub. Nay Basket , never storme ; I am arrested here , upon command From the Queenes Councell ; and I must obey . Met. You say Sir very true , you must obey . An honest Gentleman , in faith ! Hil. He must ? Tub. But that which most tormenteth me , is this , That Justice Bramble hath got hence my Awdrey . Hil. How ? how ? stand by a little , sirrah , you With the badge o' your brest . Let 's know Sir what you are ? Met. I am Sir ( pray you doe not looke so terribly ) A Purs'yvant . Hil. A Purs'yvant ? your name Sir ? Met. My name Sir — Hil. What is 't ? speake ? Met. Miles Metaphor ; And Justice Preambles Clarke . Tub. What sayes he ? Hil. Pray you , Let us alone . You are a Purs'yvant ? Met. No faith , Sir , would I might never stirre from you , I' is made a Purs'yvant against my will . Hil. Ha! and who made you one ? tell true , or my will Shall make you nothing , instantly . Met. Put up Your frightfull Blade ; and your dead-doing looke , And I shall tell you all . Hil. Speake then the truth , And the whole truth , and nothing but the truth . Met. My Master , Justice Bramble , hearing your Master , The Squire Tub , was comming on this way , With Mrs. Awdrey , the high Constables Daughter ; Made me a Purs'yvant : and gave me warrant To arrest him , so that hee might get the Lady , With whom he is gone to Pancridge , to the Vicar , Not to her Fathers . This was the device , Which I beseek you , doe not tell my Master . Tub. O wonderfull ! well Basket , let him rise : And for my free escape , forge some excuse . I le post to Paddington , t' acquaint old Turfe , With the whole busines , and so stop the mariage . Hil. Well , blesse thee : I doe wish thee grace , to keepe Thy Masters secrets , better , or be hang'd . Met. I thanke you , for your gentle admonition . Pray you , let me call you God-father hereafter . And as your God-sonne Metaphore I promise , To keepe my Masters privities , seald up I' the vallies o' my trust , lock'd close for ever , Or let me be truss'd up at Tiburne shortly . Hil. Thine owne wish , save , or choake thee ; Come away .
ACT III.
SCENE I. Turfe . Clench . Medlay . To Pan. Scriben . Clay . Tur. PAssion of me , was ever man thus cross'd ? All things run Arsie-Varsie ; upside downe . High Constable ! Now by our Lady o' Walsingham . I had rather be mark'd out Tom Scavinger . And with a shovell make cleane the high wayes , Then have this office of a Constable , And a high Constable ! The higher charge It brings more trouble , more vexation with it . Neighbours , good neighbours , ' vize me what to doe : How wee shall beare us in this Huy and Cry . We cannot find the Captaine ; no such man Lodg'd at the Lion , nor came thither hurt . The morning wee ha' spent in privie search ; And by that meanes the Bride-ale is differr'd ; The Bride , shee 's left alone in Puppie's charge ; The Bride-groome goes under a paire of sureties ; And held of all as a respected person . How should we bussle forward ? Gi' some counsell , How to bestirre our stumps i' these crosse wayes . Cle. Faith Gossip Turfe , you have , you say , Remission , To comprehend all such , as are dispected : Now , would I make another privie search Through this Towne , and then you have zearch'd two towns . Med. Masters , take heed , let 's not vind too many : One's enough to stay the Hang-mans stomack . There is Iohn Clay , who is yvound already ; A proper man : A Tile-man by his trade : A man as one would zay , moulded in clay : As spruce as any neighbours child among you : And he ( you zee ) is taken on conspition , And two , or three ( they zay ) what call you 'hem ? Zuch as the Justices of Coram nobis Grant — ( I forget their names , you ha' many on 'hem , Mr. High Constable they come to you . ) I ha' it at my tongues end — Cunni-borroughes , To bring him straight avore the zessions house . Tur. O you meane warrens , neighbour , doe you not ? Med. I , I , thick same ! you know ' un well enough . Tur. Too well , too well ; wou'd I had never knowne 'hem . Wee good Vree-holders cannot live in quiet , But every houre new purcepts , Huy's and Cry's , Put us to requisitions night and day : What shud a man zay , shud we leave the zearch ? I am in danger , to reburse as much As he was rob'd on ; I , and pay his hurts , If I should vollow it , all the good cheare That was provided ; for the wedding dinner Is spoil'd , and lost . Oh there are two vat pigs , A zindging by the vi●r : Now by Saint Tomy , Too good to eate , but on a wedding day ; And then , a Goose will bid you all , Come cut me . Zun Clay , zun Clay ( for I must call thee so ) Be of good comfort ; take my Muckinder ; And dry thine eyes . If thou beest true , and honest ; And if thou find'st thy conscience cleare vrom it , Pluck up a good heart , wee 'll doe well enough . If not , confesse a truths name . But in faith I durst be sworne upon all holy bookes , Iohn Clay would nere commit a Robberie On his owne head . Cla. No ; Truth is my rightfull Judge : I have kept my hands , here hence , fro' evill speaking , Lying , and slandering ; and my tongue from stealing . He doe not live this day can say , Iohn Clay I ha' zeene thee , but in the way of honesty . Pan. Faith neighbour Medlay , I durst be his burrough , He would not looke a true man in the vace . Cla. I take the towne to concord , where I dwell , All Kilburne be my witnesse ; If I were not Begot in bashfulnesse , brought up in shamefac'tnesse : Let ' un bring a dog , but to my vace , that can Zay , I ha' beat' hun , and without a vault ; Or but a cat , will sweare upon a booke , I have as much as zet a vier her taile ; And I le give him , or her a crowne for 'mends . But to give out , and zay , I have rob'd a Captaine ! Receive me at the latter day , if I Ere thought of any such matter ; or could mind it — . Med. No Iohn , you are come of too good personage ; I thinke my Gossip Clench , and Mr. Turfe Both thinke , you would ra ' tempt no such voule matter . Tur. But how unhappily it comes to passe ! Just on the wedding day ! I cry me mercy : I had almost forgot the Huy and Cry : Good neighbour Pan , you are the Third-burrow , And D'ogenes Scriben , you my learned Writer , Make out a new purcept — Lord , for thy goodnesse , I had forgot my Daughter , all this while ; The idle knave hath brought no newes from her . Here comes the sneaking Puppy ; What 's the newes ? My heart ! my heart ! I feare all is not well , Some things mishap'd , that he is come without her .
ACT III. SCENE II. To them . Puppy . Da: Turfe . Pup . Oh , where 's my Master ? my Master ? my Master ? D. Tur. Thy Master ? what would'st with thy Master , man ? There 's thy Mr. Tur. What 's the matter Puppy ? Pup . Oh Master ! oh Dame ! oh Dame ! oh Master ! D. Tur. What sai'st thou to thy Master , or thy Dame ? Pup . Oh Iohn Clay ! Iohn Clay ! Iohn Clay ! Tur. What of Iohn Clay ? Med. Luck grant he bring not newes he shall be hang'd . Cle. The world forfend , I hope , it is not so well . Cla. Oh Lord ! oh me ! what shall I doe ? poore Iohn ! Pup . Oh Iohn Clay ! Iohn Clay ! Iohn Clay ! Cla. Alas , That ever I was borne ! I will not stay by 't , For all the Tiles in Kilburne . D. Tur. What of Clay ? Speake Puppy , what of him ? Pup . He hath lost , he hath lost . Tur. For luck sake speake , Puppy , what hath he lost ? Pup . Oh Awdrey , Awdrey , Awdrey ! D. Tur.

What of my daughter Awdrey ?

Pup . I tell you Awdrey — doe you understand me ? Awdrey , sweet Master ! Awdrey , my deare Dame — Tur. Where is she ? what 's become of her , I pray thee ? Pup . Oh the serving-man ! the serving-man ! the serving-man ! Tur. What talk'st thou of the serving-man ? where 's Awdrey ? Pup . Gone with the serving-man , gone with the serving-man . D. Tur. Good Puppy , whither is she gone with him ? Pup . I cannot tell , he bad me bring you word , The Captaine lay at the Lion , and before I came againe , Awdrey was gone with the serving-man ; I tell you , Awdrey's run away with the serving-man . Tur. 'Od'socks ! my woman , what shall we doe now ? D. Tur. Now , so you helpe not , man , I know not , I. Tur. This was your pompe of Maids . I told you on 't . Sixe Maids to vollow you , and not leave one To wait upo' your Daughter : I zaid , Pride Would be paid one day , her old vi' pence , wife . Med. What of Iohn Clay , Ball Puppy ? Pup . He hath lost — Med. His life for velonie ? Pup . No , his wife by villanie . Tur. Now , villaines both ! oh that same Huy and Cry ! Oh neighbours ! oh that cursed serving-man ! Clay 's first mist . O maids ! O wife ! But Iohn Clay , where 's he ? How ! fled for veare , zay yee ? will he slip us now ? Wee that are sureties , must require ' hun out . How shall wee doe to find the serving-man ? Cocks bodikins ! wee must not lose Iohn Clay : Awdrey , my daughter Awdrey too ! let us zend To all the townes , and zeeke her ; but alas , The Huy and Cry , that must be look'd unto .
ACT III. SCENE III. To them . Tub. Tub. What , in a passion Turfe ? Tur. I good Squire Tub. Were never honest Varmers thus perplext . Tub. Turfe , I am privie to thy deepe unrest : The ground of which , springs from an idle plot , Cast by a Suitor , to your daughter Awdrey — And thus much , Turfe , let me advertise you ; Your daughter Awdrey , met I on the way , With Justice Bramble in her company : Who meanes to marry her at Pancridge Church . And there is Chanon Hugh , to meet them ready : Which to prevent you must not trust delay ; But winged speed must crosse their slie intent : Then hie thee . Turfe , haste to forbid the Banes . Tur. Hath Justice Bramble got my daughter Awdrey ? A little while , shall he enjoy her , zure . But O the Huy and Cry ! that hinders me : I must prusue that , or neglect my journey : I le ene leave all : and with the patient Asse , The over-laden Asse , throw off my burden , And cast mine office ; pluck in my large eares Betimes , lest some dis-judge 'hem to be hornes : I 'll leave to beat it on the broken hoofe , And ease my pasternes . I le no more High Constables . Tub. I cannot choose , but smile , to see thee troubled With such a bald , halfe-hatched circumstance ! The Captaine was not rob'd , as is reported ; That trick the Justice craftily deviz'd , To breake the mariage with the Tile-man Clay . The Huy , and Cry , was meerely counterfeit : The rather may you judge it to be such , Because the Bride-groome , was describ'd to be One of the theeves , first i' the velonie . Which , how farre 't is from him , yourselves may guesse : 'T was Justice Bramble's vetch , to get the wench . Tur. And is this true Squire Tub ? Tub. Beleeve me Turfe , As I am a Squire : or lesse , a Gentleman . Tur. I take my office back : and my authority , Vpon your worships words . Neighbours , I am High Constable againe : where 's my zonne Clay ? He shall be zonne , yet , wife , your meat by leasure : Draw back the spits . D. Tur. That 's done already man . Tur. I le breake this mariage off : and afterward , She shall be given to her first betroth'd . Looke to the meate , wife : looke well to the rost . Tub. I le follow him aloofe , to see the event . Pup . Dame , Mistris , though I doe not turne the spit ; I hope yet the Pigs-head . D. Tur. Come up , Jack-sauce : It shall be serv'd in to you . Pup . No , no service , But a reward for service . D. Tur. I still tooke you For an unmannerly Puppy : will you come , And vetch more wood to the vier , Mr. Ball ? Pup . I wood to the vier ? I shall pisse it out first : You thinke to make me ene your oxe , or asse ; Or any thing . Though I cannot right my selfe On you ; I le sure revenge me on your meat .
ACT III. SCENE IV. La: Tub. Pol-Marten . Wispe . Puppy . Pol. Madam , to Kentish Towne , wee are got at length ; But , by the way wee cannot meet the Squire : Nor by inquiry can we heare of him . Here is Turfe's house , the father of the Maid . Lad. Pol-Marten , see , the streets are strew'd with herbes , And here hath beene a wedding , Wispe , it seemes ! Pray heaven , this Bridall be not for my sonne ! Good Marten , knock : knock quickly : Aske for Turfe . My thoughts misgive me , I am in such a doubt — Pol. Who keepes the house here ? Pup . Why the doore , and wals Doe keepe the house . Pol. I aske then , who 's within ? Pup Not you that are without . Pol. Looke forth , and speake . Into the street , here . Come before my Lady . Pup . Before my Lady ? Lord have mercy upon me : If I doe come before her , shee will see The hand-som'st man in all the Towne , pardee ! Now stand I vore her , what zaith velvet she ? Lad. Sirrah , whoseman are you ? Pup . Madam , my Masters . Lad. And who 's thy Master ? Pup . What you tread on , Madam . Lad. I tread on an old Turfe . Pup . That Turfe's my Master . Lad. A merry fellow ! what 's thy name ? Pup . Ball Puppy They call me at home : abroad , Hanniball Puppy . Lad. Come hither , I must kisse thee , Valentine Puppy . Wispe ! ha' you got you a Valentine ? Wis. None , Madam ; He 's the first stranger that I saw . Lad. To me Hee is so , and such . Let 's share him equally . Pup . Helpe , helpe good Dame . A reskue , and in time . In stead of Bils , with Colstaves come ; in stead of Speares , with Spits ; Your slices serve for slicing swords , to save me , and my wits : A Lady , and her woman here , their Huisher eke by side , ( But he stands mute ) have plotted how your Puppy to divide .
ACT III. SCENE V. D. Turfe . Maids . To them . D. Turfe . How now ? what noise is this with you , Ball Puppy ? Pup . Oh Dame ! And fellowes o' the Kitchin ! Arme , Arme , for my safety ; if you love your Ball : Here is a strange thing , call'd a Lady , a Mad-dame : And a device of hers , yclept her woman ; Have plotted on me , in the Kings high-way , To steale me from my selfe , and cut me in halfes , To make one Valentine to serve 'hem both ; This for my right-side , that my left-hand love . D. Tur. So sawcy , Puppy ? to use no more reverence Vnto my Lady , and her velvet Gowne ? Lad. Turfe's wife , rebuke him not : Your man doth please me With his conceit . Hold : there are ten old nobles , To make thee merrier yet , halfe - Valentine . Pup . I thanke you right-side : could my left as much , 'T would make me a man of marke : young Hanniball ! Lad. Dido , shall make that good ; or I will for her . Here Dido Wispe , there 's for your Hanniball : He is your Countrey-man . as well as Valentine . Wis. Here Mr. Hanniball : my Ladies bounty For her poore woman , Wispe . Pup . Brave Carthage Queene ! And such was Dido : I will ever be Champion to her , who Iuno is to thee . D. Tur. Your Ladiship is very welcome here . Please you , good Madam , to goe nere the house . Lad. Turfe's wife , I come thus farre to seeke thy husband , Having some busines to impart unto him . Is he at home ? D. Tur. O no , and 't shall please you : He is posted hence to Pancridge with a witnesse . Young Justice Bramble has kept levell coyle Here in our Quarters , stole away our Daughter , And Mr. Turfe's run after , as he can , To stop the marriage , if it will be stop'd . Pol. Madam , these tydings are not much amisse ! For if the Justice have the Maid in keepe , You need not feare the mariage of your sonne . Lad. That somewhat easeth my suspitious brest . Tell me , Turfe's wife , when was my sonne with Awdrey ? How long is 't , since you saw him at your house ? Pup . Dame , let me take this rump out of your mouth . D. Tur. What meane you by that Sir ? Pup . Rumpe , and taile 's all one . But I would use a reverence for my Lady : I would not zay surreverence , the tale Out o' your mouth , but rather take the rumpe . D. Tur. A well bred youth ! and vull of favour you are : Pup . What might they zay , when I were gone , if I Not weigh'd my wordz ? This Puppy is a voole ! Great Hanniball's an Asse ; he had no breeding : No Lady gay , you shall not zay , That your Val. Puppy , was so unlucky , In speech to faile , as t'name a taile , Be as be may be , ' vore a faire Lady . Lad. Leave jesting , tell us , when you saw our sonne . Pup . Marry , it is two houres agoe . Lad. Sin' you saw him ? Pup . You might have seene him too , if you had look'd up . For it shind , as bright as day . Lad. Meane my sonne . Pup . Your sunne , and our sunne are they not all one ? Lad. Foole , thou mistak'st ; I ask'd thee , for my sonne . Pup . I had thought there had beene no more sunnes , then one . I know not what you Ladies have , or may have . Pol. Did'st thou nere heare , my Lady had a sonne ? Pup . She may have twenty ; but for a sonne , unlesse She meane precisely , Squire Tub , her zonne , He was here now ; and brought my Mr. word That Justice Bramble had got Mrs. Awdrey . But whither he be gone , here 's none can tell . Lad. Marten , I wonder at this strange discourse : The foole it seemes tels true ; my sonne the Squire Was doubtlesse here this morning . For the match , I le smother what I thinke , and staying here , Attend the sequell of this strange beginning , Turfe's wife ; my people , and I will trouble thee : Vntill we heare some tidings of thy husband . The rather , for my partie Valentine .
ACT III. SCENE VI. Turfe . Awdrey . Clench . Med-lay . Pan. Scriben . Tur. Well , I have carried it , and will triumph Over this Justice , as becomes a Constable ; And a high Constable : next our Saint George , Who rescued the Kings Daughter , I will ride ; Above Prince Arthur . Cle. Or our Shore ditch Duke . Med. Or Pancridge Earle . Pan : Or Bevis , or Sir Guy . Who were high Constables both . Cle. One of Southhampton — . Med. The tother of Warwick-Castle . Tur. You shall worke it Into a storie for me , neighbour Medlay , Over my Chimney . Scri. I can give you Sir , A Roman storie of a petty-Constable , That had a Daughter , that was call'd Virginia , Like Mrs. Awdrey , and as young as she ; And how her Father bare him in the busines , 'Gainst Justice Appius , a Decemvir in Rome , And Justice of Assise . Tur. That , that good D'ogenes ! A learned man is a Chronikell ! Scri. I can tell you A thousand , of great Pompei , Caesar , Trajan , All the high Constables there . Tur. That was their place : They were no more . Scr. Dictator , and high Constable Were both the same . Med. High Constable was more , tho' ! He laid Dick : Tator by the heeles . Pan. Dick : Toter ! H'was one o' the Waights o' the Citie . I ha' read o'hun : He was a fellow would be drunke , debauch'd — And he did zet un i' the stocks indeed : His name Vadian , and a cunning Toter . Awd . Was ever silly Maid thus posted off ? That should have had three husbands in one day ; Yet ( by bad fortune ) am possest of none ? I went to Church to have beene wed to Clay ; Then Squire Tub he seiz'd me on the way , And thought to ha' had me : but he mist his aime ; And Justice Bramble ( nearest of the three ) Was well nigh married to me ; when by chance , In rush'd my Father , and broke off that dance . Tur. I , Girle , there 's nere a Justice on 'hem all , Shall teach the Constable to guard his owne : Let 's back to Kentish-Towne , and there make merry ; These newes will be glad tiding to my wife : Thou shalt have Clay , my wench . That word shall stand . Hee 's found by this time , sure , or else hee 's drown'd : The wedding dinner will be spoil'd : make haste . Awd . Husbands , they say , grow thick ; but thin are sowne , I care not who it be , so I have one . Tur. I ? zay you zo ? Perhaps you shall ha' none , for that . Awd . Now out on me ! what shall I doe then ? Med. Sleepe Mistris Awdrey , dreame on proper men .
ACT III. SCENE VII . Hugh . Preamble . Metaphore . Hugh . O bone Deus ! have you seene the like ? Here was , Hodge hold thine eare , faire , whilst I strike . Body o' me , how came this geare about ? Pre. I know not , Chanon , but it fals out crosse . Nor can I make conjecture by the circumstance Of these events ; it was impossible , Being so close , and politickly carried , To come so quickly to the eares of Turfe . O Priest , had but thy slow delivery Beene nimble , and thy lazie Latine tongue , But run the formes ore , with that swift dispatch , As had beene requisite , all had beene well ! Hug. What should have beene , that never lov'd the Friar ; But thus you see th' old Adage verified , Multa cadunt inter — you can ghesse the rest . Many things fall betweene the cup , and lip : And though they touch , you are not sure to drinke . You lack'd good fortune , wee had done out parts : Give a man fortune , throw him i' the Sea . The properer man , the worse luck : Stay a time ; Tempus edax — In time the stately Oxe , &c. Good counsels lightly never come too late . Pre. You Sir will run your counsels out of breath . Hug. Spurre a free horse , hee 'll run himselfe to death . Sancti Evangelistae ! Here comes Miles ! Pre. What newes man , with our new made Purs'yvant ? Met. A Pursuyvant ? would I were , or more pursie , And had more store of money ; or lesse pursie , And had more store of breath : you call me Pursyvant ! But , I could never vant of any purse I had , sin ' yo' were my God-fathers , and God-mothers , And ga' me that nick-name . Pre. What , now 's the matter ? Met. Nay , 't is no matter . I ha' beene simply beaten . Hugh . What is become o' the Squire , and thy Prisoner ? Met. The lines of blood , ran streaming from my head , Can speake what rule the Squire hath kept with me . Pre. I pray thee Miles relate the manner , how ? Met. Be 't knowne unto you , by these presents , then , That I Miles Metaphore , your worships Clarke : Have ene beene beaten , to an Allegory , By multitude of hands . Had they beene but Some five or sixe , I' had whip'd 'hem all , like tops In Lent , and hurl'd 'hem into Hoblers-hole ; Or the next ditch : I had crack'd all their costards , As nimbly as a Squirrell will crack nuts : And flourished like to Hercules , the Porter Among the Pages . But , when they came on Like Bees about a Hive , Crowes about carrion , Flies about sweet meats ; nay , like water-men About a Fare : then was poore Metaphore Glad to give up the honour of the day , To quit his charge to them , and run away To save his life , onely to tell this newes . Hug. How indirectly all things have falne out ! I cannot choose bat wonder what they were Reskued your rivall from the keepe of Miles : But most of all I cannot well digest , The manner how our purpose came to Turfe . Pre. Miles , I will see that all thy hurts be drest . As for the Squires escape , it matters not : Wee have by this meanes disappointed him ; And that was all the maine I aimed at . But Chanon Hugh , now muster up thy wits , And call thy thoughts into the Consistory . Search all the secret corners of thy cap , To find another queint devised drift , To disappoint her mariage with this Clay ; Doe that , and He reward thee jovially . Hug. Well said Magister Justice . If I fit you not With such a new , and well-laid stratagem , As never yet your eares did heare a finer , Call me , with Lilly , Bos , Fur , Sus , atque Sacerdos . Pre. I heare , there 's comfort in thy words yet , Chanon . I le trust thy regulars , and say no more . Met. I le follow too . And if the dapper Priest Be but as cunning , point in his de vise , As I was in my lie : my Master Preamble Will stalke , as led by the nose with these new promises , And fatted with supposes of fine hopes .
ACT III. SCENE VIII . Turfe . D. Turfe . L. Tub. Pol-mart . Awd . Pup . Tur. Well Madam , I may thanke the Squire your sonne : For , but for him , I had beene over-reach'd . D. Tur. Now heavens blessing light upon his heart : Wee are beholden to him , indeed Madam . Lad. But can you not resolve me where he is ? Nor about what his purposes were bent ? Tur. Madam , they no whit were concerning me : And therefore was I lesse inquisitive . Lad. Faire maid , in faith , speake truth , and not dissemble : Do's hee not often come , and visit you ? Awd . His worship now , and then , please you , takes paines To see my Father , and Mother : But for me , I know my selfe too meane for his high thoughts To stoop at , more then asking a light question , To make him merry , or to passe his time . Lad. A sober Maid ! call for my woman Marten . Pol. The maids , and her halfe - Valentine have pli'd her With court'sie of the Bride-Cake , and the Bowle , As she is laid a while . Lad. O let her rest ! We will crosse ore to Canterbury , in the interim ; And so make home . Farewell good Turfe , and thy wife . I wish your daughter joy . Tur. Thankes to your Ladiship , Where is Iohn Clay now ? have you seene him yet ? D. Tur. No , he has hid himselfe out of the way , For feare o' the Huy and Cry . Tur. What , walkes that shadow Avore'un still ? Puppy goe seeke ' un out , Search all the corners that he haunts unto , And call' un forth . Wee 'll once more to the Church , And try our vortunes . Luck , sonne Valentine : Where are the wise-men all of Finzbury ? Pup . Where wise-men should be ; at the Ale , and Bride cake . I would this couple had their destinie , Or to be hang'd , or married out o' the way : Man cannot get the mount'nance of an Egge-shell , Enter the neighboure to Turfe , To stay his stomack . Vaith , vor mine owne part , I have zup'd up so much broth , as would have cover'd A legge o' Beefe , ore head and eares , i' the porredge pot : And yet I cannot sussifie wild nature . Would they were once dispatch'd , we might to dinner . I am with child of a huge stomack , and long ; Till by some honest Midwife-peice of Beefe , I be deliver'd of it : I must goe now , And hunt out for this Kilburne Calfe , Iohn Clay : Whom where to find , I know not , nor which way .
ACT III. SCENE IX . Chanon Hugh , like Captaine Thumbs . To them . Hug. Thus as a begger in a Kings disguise , Or an old Crosse well sided with a May-pole . Comes Chanon Hugh , accoutred as you see Disguis'd Soldado like : marke his devise : The Chanon , is that Captaine Thum's , was rob'd : These bloody scars upon my face are wounds ; This scarfe upon mine arme shewes my late hurts : And thus am I to gull the Constable . Now have among you , for a man at armes : Friends by your leave , which of you is one Turfe ? Tur. Sir , I am Turfe , if you would speake with me . Hug. With thee Turfe , if thou beest High Constable . Tur. I am both Turfe , Sir , and High Constable . Hug. Then Turfe , or Scurfe , high , or low Constable , Know , I was once a Captaine at Saint Quintins , And passing crosse the wayes over the countrey ' This morning betwixt this and Hamsted-Heath , Was by a crue of Clownes rob'd , bob'd , and hurt . No sooner had I got my wounds bound up , But with much paine , I went to the next Justice , One Mr. Bramble here , at Maribone : And here a warrant is , which he hath directed For you one Turfe ; if your name be Tobie Turfe ; Who have let fall ( they say ) the Huy , and Cry : And you shall answer it afore the Justice . Tur. Heaven , and Hell , Dogges , Divels , what is this ? Neighbours , was ever Constable thus cross'd ? What shall we doe ? Med. Faith , all goe hang our selves : I know no other way to scape the Law . Pup . Newes , newes , O newes — Tur. What , hast thou found out Clay ? Pup . No Sir , the newes is that I cannot find him . Hug. Why doe you dally , you dam'd russet coat , You Peasant , nay you Clowne , you Constable ; See that you bring forth the suspected partie , Or by mine honour ( which I won in field ) I le make you pay for it , afore the Justice . Tur. Fie , fie ; O wife , I' am now in a fine pickle . He that was most suspected is not found ; And which now makes me thinke , he did the deed , He thus absents him , and dares not be seene . Captaine , my innocence will plead for me . Wife , I must goe , needs , whom the Divell drives : Pray for me wife , and daughter ; pray for me . Hug. I le lead the way : Thus is the match put off , And it my plot succeed , as I have laid it , My Captaine-ship shall cost him many a crowne . D. Tur. They goe out . So , wee have brought our egges to a faire Market . Out on that villaine Clay : would he doe a robbery ? I le nere trust smooth-fac'd Tile-man for his sake . Awd . They goe out . Mother , the still Sow eates up all the draffe . Pup . Thus is my Master , Toby Turfe , the patterne Of all the painefull a'ventures , now in print . I never could hope better of this match : This Bride-ale : For the night before to day , ( Which is within mans memory , I take it ) At the report of it , an Oxe did speake ; Who dy'd soone after : A Cow lost her Calfe : The Belwether was flead for 't : A fat Hog Was sing'd , and wash'd , and shaven all over ; to Looke ugly 'gainst this day : The Ducks they quak'd ; The Hens too cackled : at the noise whereof , A Drake was seene to dance a headlesse round : The Goose was cut i' the head , to heare it too : Brave Chant-it-cleare , his noble heart was done ; His combe was cut : And two or three o' his wives , Or fairest Concubines , had their necks broke , Ere they would zee this day : To marke the verven Heart of a beast , the very Pig , the Pig , This very mornin , as hee was a rosting Cry'd out his eyes , and made a show as hee would Ha' bit in two the spit , as he would say ; There shall no rost-meat be this dismall day . And zure , I thinke , If I had not got his tongue Betweene my teeth , and eate it , he had spoke it . Well , I will in , and cry too ; never leave Crying , untill our maids may drive a Buck With my salt teares at the next washing day .
ACT IV.
SCENE I. Preamble . Hugh . Turfe . Metaphor . Pre. KEepe out those fellowes ; I le ha' none come in , But the High Constable , the man of peace , And the Queenes Captaine , the brave man of warre . Now neighbour Turfe , the cause why you are call'd , Before me by my warrant , but unspecified , Is this ; and pray you marke it thoroughly ! Here is a Gentleman , and as it seemes , Both of good birth , faire speech , and peaceable , Who was this morning rob'd here in the wood : You for your part a man of good report , Of credit , landed , and of faire demeanes , And by authority , high Constable ; Are notwithstanding touch'd in this complaint , Of being carelesse in the Huy and Cry . I cannot choose but grieve a Soldiers losse : And I am sory too for your neglect , Being my neighbour ; this is all I object . Hug. This is not all ; I can alledge far more , And almost urge him for an accessorie . Good Mr Justice gi' me leave to speake , For I am Plaintife . Let not neighbour-hood Make him secure , or stand on priviledge . Pre. Sir , I dare use no partiality : Object then what you please , so it be truth . Hug. This more : and which is more , then he can answer , Beside his letting fall the Huy , and Cry He doth protect the man , charg'd with the felonie , And keepes him hid I heare , within his house , Because he is affied unto his Daughter . Tur. I doe defie ' hun , so shall shee doe too . I pray your worships favour , le' me have hearing . I doe convesse , 't was told me such a velonie , And 't not disgriev'd me a little when 't was told me , Vor I was going to Church , to marry Awdrey : And who should marry her , but this very Clay , Who was charg'd to be the chiefe theife o' hun all . Now I ( the halter stick me , if I tell , Your worships any leazins did fore-thinke ' un The truest man , till he waz run away . I thought , I had had ' un as zure as in a zaw-pit , Or i' mine Oven . Nay , i' the Towne-pound . I was za sure o' hun : I 'ld ha' gi'n my life for ' un , Till he did start . But now , I zee ' un guilty , Az var as I can looke at ' un . Would you ha' more ? Hug. Yes , I will have Sir what the Law will give me . You gave your word to see him safe , forth comming ; I challenge that : But , that is forfeited ; Beside , your carelesnesse in the pursuit , Argues your slacknesse , and neglect of dutie , Which ought be punish'd with severity . Pre. He speakes but reason Turfe . Bring forth the man , And you are quit : But otherwise , your word Binds you to make amends for all his losse , And thinke your selfe befriended , if he take it Without a farder suit , or going to law . Come to a composition with him , Turfe : The Law is costly , and will draw on charge . Tur. Yes , I doe know , I vurst mun vee a Returney , And then make legges to my great man o' Law , To be o' my counsell , and take trouble-vees , And yet zay nothing vor me , but devise All district meanes , to ransackle me o' my money . A Pest'lence prick the throats o' hun . I doe know him As well az I waz i' their bellies , and brought up there . What would you ha' me doe ? what would you aske of me ? Hug. I aske the restitution of my money ; And will not bate one penny o' the summe : Foure score , and five pound . I aske , besides , Amendment for my hurts ; my paine , and suffering Are losse enough for me , Sir , to sit downe with , I le put it to your worship ; what you award me , I le take ; and gi' him a generall release . Pre. And what say you now , neighbour Turfe ? Tur. I put it Ene to your worships bitterment , hab , nab . I shall have a chance o' the dice for 't , I hope , let 'hem ene run : And Pre. Faith then I le pray you , 'cause he is my neighbour , To take a hundred pound , and give him day . Hug. Saint Valentines day , I will , this very day , Before Sunne set : my bond is forfeit else . Tur. Where will you ha' it paid ? Hug. Faith , I am a stranger Here i' the countrey : Know you Chanon Hugh , The Vicar of Pancrace ? Tur. Yes , wee who not him ? Hug. I le make him my Attorney to receive it , And give you a discharge . Tur. Whom shall I send for 't ? Pre. Why , if you please , send Metaphore my Clarke . And Turfe , I much commend thy willingnesse ; It 's argument of thy integrity . Tur. But , my integrity shall be my zelfe still : Good Mr. Metaphore , give my wife this key ; And doe but whisper it into her hand : ( She knowes it well inow ) bid her , by that Deliver you the two zeal'd bags o' silver , That lie i' the corner o' the cup-bord , stands At my bed-side , they ' are viftie pound a peece ; And bring 'hem to your Master . Met. If I prove not As just a Carrier as my friend Tom Long was , Then call me his curtall , change my name of Miles , To Guile's , Wile's , Pile's , Bile's , or the foulest name You can devise , to crambe with , for ale . Hug. Come hither Miles , bring by that token , too , Faire Awdrey ; say her father sent for her : Say Clay is found , and waits at Pancrace Church , Where I attend to marry them in haste . For ( by this meanes ) Miles I may say 't to thee , Thy Master must to Awdrey married be . But not a word but mum : goe get thee gone ; Be warie of thy charge , and keepe it close . Met. O super-dainty Chanon ! Vicar in cóney , Make no delay , Miles , but a way . And bring the wench , and money . Hug. Now Sir , I see you meant but honestly ; And , but that busines cals me hence away , I would not leave you , till the sunne were lower . But Mr. Justice , one word , Sir , with you . By the same token , is your Mistris sent for By Metaphore your Clarke , as from her Father . Who when she comes , I le marry her to you , Vnwitting to this Turfe , who shall attend Me at the parsonage . This was my plot : Which I must now make good ; turne Chanon , againe , In my square cap. I humbly take my leave . Pre. Adieu , good Captaine . Trust me , neighbour Turfe , He seemes to be a sober Gentleman : But this distresse hath somewhat stir'd his patience . And men , you know , in such extremities , Apt not themselves to points of courtesie ; I 'am glad you ha' made this end . Tur. You stood my friend : I thanke your Justice-worship ; pray you be Prezent anone , at tendring o' the money , And zee me have a discharge : Vor I ha' no craft I' your Law quiblins . Pre. I le secure you , neighbour . The Scene interloping . Medlay . Clench Pan. Scriben . Med. Indeed , there is a woundy luck in names , Sirs , And a maine mysterie , an' a man knew where . To vind it . My God-sires name , I le tell you , Was In-and-In Shittle , and a Weaver he was , And it did fit his craft : for so his Shittle Went in , and in , still : this way , and then that way . And he nam'd me , In-and In Medlay : which serves A Joyners craft , bycause that wee doe lay Things in and in , in our worke . But , I am truly Architectonicus professor , rather : That is ( as one would zay ) an Architect . Cle. As I am a Varrier , and a Visicarie : Horse-smith of Hamsted , and the whole Towne Leach — . Med. Yes , you ha' done woundy cures , Gossip Clench . Cle. An' I can zee the stale once , through a Vrine-hole , I le give a shrew'd ghesse , be it man , or beast . I cur'd an Ale-wife once , that had the staggers Worse then five horses , without rowelling . My God-phere was a Rabian , or a Iew , ( You can tell D'oge ! ) They call'd un Doctor Rasi . Scr. One Rasis was a great Arabick Doctor . Cle. Hee was King Harry's Doctor , and my God-phere . Pan. Mine was a merry Greeke , To-Pan , of Twyford : A joviall Tinker , and a stopper of holes ; Who left me mettall-man of Belsise , his heire . Med. But what was yours D'oge ? Scr. Vaith , I cannot tell If mine were kyrsind , or no. But , zure hee had A kyrsin name , that he left me , Diogenes . A mighty learned man , but pest'lence poore . Vor , h 'had no house , save an old Tub , to dwell in , ( I vind that in records ) and still he turn'd it I' the winds teeth , as 't blew on his back-side , And there they would lie rowting one at other , A weeke , sometimes . Med. Thence came A Tale of a Tub ; And the virst Tale of a Tub , old D'ogenes Tub. Scr. That was avore Sir Peter Tub , or his Lady . Pan. I , or the Squire their sonne , Tripoli Tub. Cle. The Squire is a fine Gentleman ! Med. He is more : A Gentleman and a halfe ; almost a Knight ; Within zixe inches : That 's his true measure . Cle. Zure , you can gage ' hun . Med. To a streake , or lesse : I know his d'ameters , and circumference : A Knight is sixe diameters ; and a Squire Is vive , and zomewhat more : I know 't by compasse , And skale of man . I have upo' my rule here , The just perportions of a Knight , a Squire ; With a tame Justice , or an Officer , rampant , Vpo' the bench , from the high Constable Downe to the Head-borough , or Tithing-man ; Or meanest Minister o' the peace , God save ' un . Pan. Why , you can tell us by the Squire , Neighbour , Whence he is call'd a Constable , and whaffore . Med. No , that 's a booke-case : Scriben can doe that . That 's writing and reading , and records . Scr. Two words , Cyning and Staple , make a Constable : As wee 'd say , A hold , or stay for the King . Cle. All Constables are truly Iohn's for the King , What ere their names are ; be they Tony , or Roger. Med. And all are sworne , as vingars o' one hand , To hold together 'gainst the breach o' the peace ; The High Constable is the Thumbe , as one would zay , The hold-fast o' the rest . Pan. Pray luck he speed Well i' the busines , betweene Captaine Thums , And him . Med. 'I le warrant' un for a groat : I have his measures here in Rithmetique . How he should beare un selfe in all the lines Of 's place , and office : Let 's zeeke ' un out .
ACT IIII. SCENE II. Tub. Hilts. Metaphor . Tub. Hilts , how do'st thou like o' this our good dayes worke ? Hil. As good ene nere a whit , as nere the better . Tub. Shall we to Pancridge , or to Kentish-Towne , Hilts ? Hit . Let Kentish-Towne , or Pancridge come to us , If either will : I will goe home againe . Tub. Faith Basket , our successe hath beene but bad , And nothing prospers , that wee undertake ; For we can neither meet with Clay , nor Awdrey , The Chanon Hugh , nor Turfe the Constable : We are like men that wander in strange woods , And loose our selves in search of them wee seeke . Hil. This was because wee rose on the wrong side : But as I am now here , just in the mid-way , I le zet my sword on the pommell , and that line The point valles too , wee 'll take . whether it be To Kentish-Towne , the Church , or home againe . Tub. Enter Metaphor . Stay , stay thy hand : here 's Justice Brambles Clarke , The unlucky Hare hath crost us all this day . I le stand aside whilst thou pump'st out of him His busines , Hilts ; and how hee 's now employed . Hil. Let mee alone ? I le use him in his kind . Met. Oh for a Pad-horse , Pack-horse , or a Post-horse , To beare me on his neck , his back , or his croupe ! I am as weary with running , as a Mil-horse That hath led the Mill once , twice , thrice about , After the breath hath beene out of his body . I could get up upon a pannier , a pannell , Or , to say truth , a very Pack-sadle , Till all my honey were turn'd into gall ; And I could sit in the seat no longer , Oh the legs of a lackey now , or a foot-man , Who is the Surbater of a Clarke currant , And the confounder of his treslesse dormant . But who have we here , just in the nick ? Hil. I am neither nick , nor in the nick : therefore You lie Sir Metaphor . Met. Lye ? how ? Hil. Lye so Sir . Met. He strikes up his heeles . I lye not yet i' my throat . Hil. Thou ly'st o' the ground . Do'st thou know me ? Met. Yes , I did know you too late . Hil. What is my name then ? Met. Basket . Hil. Basket ? what ? Met. Basket , the Great — Hil. The Great ? what ? Met. Lubber — I should say Lover , of the Squire his Master . Hil. Great is my patience , to forbeare thee thus , Thou Scrape-hill , Skoundrell , and thou skum of man ; Vncivill , orenge-tawny-coated Clarke : Thou cam'st but halfe a thing into the world , And wast made up of patches , parings , shreds : Thou , that when last thou wert put out of service , Travaild'st to Hamsted Heath , on an Ash-we'nsday , Where thou didst stand sixe weekes the Iack of Lent , For boyes to hoorle , three throwes a penny , at thee , To make thee a purse : Seest thou this , bold bright blade ? As minc'd meat for a pie . I le set thee in earth All save thy head , and thy right arme at liberty , To keepe thy hat off , while I question thee , What ? why ? and whether thou wert going now With a face , ready to breake out with busines ? And tell me truly , lest I dash't in peeces . Met. Then Basket put thy smiter up , and heare ; I dare not tell the truth to a drawne sword . Hil. 'T is sheath'd , stand up , speake without feare , or wit . Met. I know not what they meane ; but Constable Turfe Sends here his key ; for monies in his cubbard Which he must pay the Captaine , that was rob'd This morning . Smell you nothing ? Hil. No , not I ; Thy breeches yet are honest . Met. As my mouth . Doe you not smell a rat ? I tell you truth , I thinke all 's knavery : For the Chanon whisper'd Me in the eare , when Turfe had gi'n me his key , By the same token to bring Mrs. Awdrey , As sent for thither ; and to say Iohn Clay Is found , which is indeed to get the wench Forth for my Master , who is to be married , When she comes there : The Chanon has his rules Ready , and all there to dispatch the matter . Tub. Now on my life , this is the Chanon's plot ! Miles , I have heard all thy discourse to Basket . Wilt thou be true , and I le reward thee well , To make me happy , in my Mistris Awdrey ? Met. Your worship shall dispose of Metaphore , Through all his parts , ene from the sole o' the head , To the crowne o' the foot , to manage of your service . Tub. Then doe thy message to the Mistris Turfe , Tell her thy token , bring the money hither , And likewise take young Awdrey to thy charge : Which done , here , Metaphore , wee will attend , And intercept thee . And for thy reward , You two shall share the money ; I the Maid : If any take offence , I le make all good . Met. But shall I have halfe the money Sir , in faith ? Tub. I on my Squire-ship , shalt thou : and my land . Met. Then , if I make not , Sir , the cleanliest scuse To get her hither , and be then as carefull To keepe her for you , as 't were for my selfe : Downe o' your knees , and pray that honest Miles May breake his neck ere he get ore two stiles .
ACT IV. SCENE III. Tub. Hilts. Tub. Make haste then : we will wait here thy returne . This luck unlook'd for , hath reviv'd my hopes , Which were opprest with a darke melancholly . In happy time , we linger'd on the way , To meet these summons of a better sound , Which are the essence of my soules content . Hil. This heartlesse fellow ; shame to serving-men ; Staine of all livories ; what feare makes him doe ! How sordid , wretched , and unworthy things ; Betray his Masters secrets , ope the closet Of his devises , force the foolish Justice , Make way for your Love , plotting of his owne : Like him that digs a trap , to catch another , And falls into 't himselfe ! Tub. So wou'd I have it . And hope 't will prove a jest to twit the Justice with . Hil. But that this poore white-liver'd Rogue should do 't ? And meerely out of feare ? Tub. And hope of money , Hilts. A valiant man will nible at that bait . Hil. Who , but a foole , will refuse money proffer'd ? Tub. And sent by so good chance . Pray heaven he speed . Hil. If he come empty-headed , let him count To goe back empty-headed ; I le not leave him So much of braine in 's pate , with pepper and vineger , To be serv'd in for sawce , to a Calves head . Tub. Thou serv'st him rightly , Hilts. Hil. I le seale az much With my hand , as I dare say now with my tongue ; But if you get the Lasse from Dargison , What will you doe with her ? Tub. Wee 'll thinke o' that When once wee have her in possession , Governour .
ACT IV. SCENE IV. Puppy . Metaphore . Awdrey . Pup . You see wee trust you , Mr. Metaphore , With Mrs. Awdrey : pray you use her well , As a Gentle-woman should be us'd . For my part , I doe incline a little to the serving-man ; Wee have beene of a coat — I had one like yours : Till it did play me such a sleevelesse errand , As I had nothing where to put mine armes in , And then I threw it off . Pray you goe before her , Serving-man-like : and see that your nose drop not . As for example ; you shall see me : marke , How I goe afore her . So doe you : sweet Miles , She for her owne part , is a woman cares not What man can doe unto her , in the way Of honesty , and good manners . So farewell Faire Mrs. Awdrey : Farewell Mr. Miles . I ha' brought you thus farre , onward o' your way : I must goe back now to make cleane the roomes , Where my good Lady has beene . Pray you commend mee To Bride-groome Clay ; and bid him beare up stiffe . Met. Thanke you good Hanniball Puppy ; I shall fit The leg of your commands , with the straight buskins Of dispatch presently . Pup . Farewell fine Metaphore . Met. Come gentle Mistris , will you please to walke ? Awd . I love not to be led : I 'd goe alone . Met. Let not the mouse of my good meaning , Lady , Be snap'd up in the trap of your suspition , To loose the taile there , either of her truth , Or swallow'd by the Cat of misconstruction . Awd . You are too finicall forme ; speake plaine Sir .
ACT IV. SCENE V. Tub. Awdrey . Hilts. Metaphore . To them . Lady . Fol-marten . Tub. Welcome againe my Awdrey : welcome Love : You shall with me ; in faith deny me not . I cannot brook the second hazzard Mistris . Awd . Forbeare Squire Tub , as mine owne mother sayes ; I am not for your mowing . You le be flowne Ere I be fledge . Hil. Hast thou the money Miles ? Met. Here are two bags , there 's fiftie pound in each . Tub. Nay Awdrey , I possesse you for this time : Sirs ; Take that coyne betweene you , and divide it . My pretty sweeting give me now the leave To challenge love , and marriage at your hands . Awd . Now , out upon you , are you not asham'd ? What will my Lady say ? In faith I thinke She was at our house : And I thinke shee ask'd for you : And I thinke she hit me i' th' teeth with you , I thanke her Ladiship , and I thinke she meanes Not to goe hence , till she has found you . How say you ? Tub. Was then my Lady Mother at your house ? Let 's have a word aside . Awd . Yes , twenty words . Lad. 'T is strange , a motion , but I know not what , Comes in my mind , to leave the way to Totten , And turne to Kentish-Towne , againe my journey : And see my sonne Pol-marten with his Awdrey : Ere while we left her at her fathers house : And hath he thence remov'd her in such haste ! What shall I doe ? shall I speake faite , or chide ? Pol. Madam , your worthy sonne , with dutious care , Can governe his affections : Rather then Breake off their conference some other way , Pretending ignorance of what you know . Tub. And this all , faire Awdrey : I am thine . Lad. Mine you were once , though scarcely now your own . Hil. 'Slid my Lady ! my Lady ! Met. Is this my Lady bright ? Tub. Madam , you tooke me now a little tardie . Lad. At prayers , I thinke you were : what , so devout Of late , that you will shrive you to all Confessors You meet by chance ? Come , goe with me , good Squire , And leave your linnen : I have now a busines , And of importance , to impart unto you . Tub. Madam , I pray you , spare me but an houre ; Please you to walke before , I follow you . Lad. It must be now , my busines lies this way . Tub. Will not an houre hence , Madam , excuse me ? Lad. Squire , these excuses argue more your guilt . You have some new device now , to project , Which the poore Tile-man scarce will thanke you for . What ? will you goe ? Tub. I ha' tane a charge upon me , To see this Maid conducted to her Father , Who , with the Chanon Hugh , staies her at Pancrace , To see her married to the same Iohn Clay . Lad. T is very well ; but Squire take you no care . I le send Pol-marten with her , for that office . You shall along with me ; it is decreed . Tub. I have a little busines , with a friend Madam . Lad. That friend shall stay for you , or you for him . Pol-marten ; Take the Maiden to your care ; Commend me to her Father . Tub. I will follow you . Lad. Tut , tell not me of following . Tub. I le but speake A word . Lad. No whispering : you forget your selfe , And make your love too palpable : A Squire ? And thinke so meanely ? fall upon a Cow-shard ? You know my mind . Come , I le to Turfe's house , And see for Dido , and our Valentine . They all goe out but Pol-marten and Awdrey . Pol-marten , looke to your charge ; I le looke to mine . Pol. I smile to thinke after so many proffers This Maid hath had , she now should fall to me : That I should have her in my custody : T were but a mad trick to make the essay , And jumpe a match with her immediately : She 's faire , and handsome : and shee 's rich enough : Both time , and place minister faire occasion : Have at it then : Faire Lady , can you love ? Awd . No Sir , what 's that ? Pol. A toy , which women use . Awd . If 't be a toy , it 's good to play withall . Pol. Wee will not stand discoursing o' the toy : The way is short please you to prov 't Mistris ? Awd . If you doe meane to stand so long upon it ; I pray you let me give it a short cut , Sir . Pol. It 's thus , faire Maid : Are you dispos'd to marry ? Awd . You are dispos'd to aske . Pol. Are you to grant ? Awd . Nay , now I see you are dispos'd indeed . Pol. I see the wench wants but a little wit ; And that defect her wealth may well supply : In plaine termes , tell me , Will you have me Awdrey ? Awd . In as plaine termes , I tell you who would ha' me . Iohn Clay would ha' me , but he hath too hard hands ; I like not him : besides , hee is a thiefe . And Justice Bramble , he would faine ha' catch'd me : But the young Squire , hee , rather then his life , Would ha' me yet ; and make me a Lady , hee sayes , And be my Knight ; to doe me true Knights service , Before his Lady Mother . Can you make me A Lady , would I ha' you ? Pol. I can gi' you A silken Gowne , and a rich Petticoat : And a french Hood . All fooles love to be brave : I find her humour , and I will pursue it .
ACT IIII. SCENE VI. Lady . D. Turfe . Squire Tub. Hilts. Puppy . Clay . Lad. And as I told thee , shee was intercepted By the Squire here , my sonne : and this bold Ruffin His man , who safely would have carried her Vnto her Father ; and the Chanon Hugh ; But for more care of the security , My Huisher hath her now , in his grave charge . D. Tur. Now on my faith , and holy-dom , we are Beholden to your worship . She 's a Girle , A foolish Girle , and soone may tempted be : But if this day passe well once ore her head , I le wish her trust to her selfe . For I have beene A very mother to her , though I say it . Tub. Madam , 't is late , and Pancridge is i' your way : I thinke your Ladiship forgets your selfe . Lad. Your mind runs much on Pancridge . Well , young Squire , The black Oxe never trod yet O your foot : These idle Phant'sies will forsake you one day . Come Mrs. Turfe , will you goe take a walke Over the fields to Pancridge , to your husband ? D. Tur. Madam , I had beene there an houre agoe : But that I waited on my man Ball Puppy . What Ball I say ? I thinke the idle avouch Be falne asleepe i' the barne , he stayes so long . Pup . Sattin , i' the name of velvet Sattin , Dame ! The Divell ! O the Divell is in the barne : Helpe , helpe , a legion — Spirit legion , Is in the barne ! in every straw a Divell . Tur. Why do'st thou bawle so Puppy ? Speake , what ailes thee ? Pup . My name's Ball Puppy , I ha' seene the Divell Among the straw : O for a Crosse ! a Collop Of Friar Bacon , or a conjuring stick Of Doctor Faustus ! Spirits are in the barne . Tub. How ! Spirits in the barne ? Basket , goe see . Hil. Sir , an' you were my Master ten times over , And Squire to boot ; I know , and you shall pardon me : Send me 'mong Divels ? I zee you love me not : Hell be at their game : I le not trouble them . Tub. Goe see ; I warrant thee there 's no such matter . Hil. An' they were Giants , 't were another matter . But Divells ! No , if I be torne in peeces , What is your warrant worth ? I le see the Feind Set fire o' the barne , ere I come there . D. Tur. Now all Zaints blesse us , and if he be there , He is an ugly spright , I warrant . Pup . As ever Held flesh-hooke , Dame , or handled fire-forke rather : They have put me in a sweet pickle , Dame : But that my Lady - Valentine smels of muske , I should be asham'd to presse into this presence . Lad. Basket , I pray thee see what is the miracle ! Tub. Come , goe with me : I le lead . Why stand'st thou man ? Hil. Cocks pretious Master , you are not mad indeed ? You will not goe to hell before your time ? Tub. Why art thou thus afraid ? Hil. No , not afraid : But by your leave , I le come no neare the barne . Tur. Puppy ! wilt thou goe with me ? Pup . How ? goe with you ▪ Whither , into the Barne ? To whom , the Divell ? Or to doe what there ? to be torne 'mongst ' hum ? Stay for my Master , the High Constable , Or In-and-In , the Head-borough ; let them goe , Into the Barne with warrant , seize the Feind ; And set him in the stocks for his ill rule : 'T is not for me that am but flesh and blood , To medle with ' un . Vor I cannot , nor I wu' not . Lad. I pray thee Tripoly , looke , what is the matter ? Tub. That shall I Madam . Hil. Heaven protect my Master . I tremble every joynt till he be back . Pup . Now , now , even now they are tearing him in peeces ▪ Now are they tossing of his legs , and armes , Like Loggets at a Peare-tree : I le to the hole , Peepe in , and looke whether he lives or dies . Hil. I would not be i' my Masters coat for thousands . Pup . Then pluck it off , and turne thy selfe away . O the Divell ! the Divell ! the Divell ! Hil. Where man ? where ? D. Tur. Alas that ever wee were borne . So neere too ? Pup . The Squire hath him in his hand , and leads him Out by the Collar . D. Tur. O this is Iohn Clay . Lad. Iohn Clay at Pancrace , is there to be married . Tub. This was the spirit reveld i' the Barne . Pup . The Divell hee was : was this he was crawling Among the Wheat-straw ? Had it beene the Barley , I should ha' tane him for the Divell in drinke ; The Spirit of the Bride-ale : But poore Iohn , Tame Iohn of Clay , that sticks about the bung-hole — Hil. If this be all your Divell , I would take In hand to conjure him : But hell take me If ere I come in a right Divels walke , If I can keepe me out on 't . Tub. Well meant Hilts. Lad. But how came Clay thus hid here i' the straw , When newes was brought , to you all hee was at Pancridge ; And you beleev'd it ? D. Tur. Justice Brambles man Told me so , Madam : And by that same token , And other things , he had away my Daughter , And two seal'd bags of money . Lad. Where 's the Squire ? Is hee gone hence ? Tub. H' was here Madam , but now . Clay . Is the Huy and Cry past by ? Pup . I , I , Iohn Clay . Clay . And am I out of danger to be hang'd ? Pup . Hang'd Iohn ? yes sure ; unlesse , as with the Proverbe , You meane to make the choice of your owne gallowes . Cla. Nay , then all 's well , hearing your newes Ball Pupy , You ha' brought from Paddington , I ene stole home here , And thought to hide me , in the Barne ere since . Pup . O wonderfull ! and newes was brought us here , You were at Pancridge , ready to be married . Cla. No faith , I nere was furder then the Barne . D. Tur. Haste Puppy . Call forth Mistris Dido Wispe , My Ladies Gentle-woman , to her Lady ; And call your selfe forth , and a couple of maids , To waite upon me : we are all undone ! My Lady is undone ! her fine young sonne , The Squire is got away . Lad. Haste , haste , good Valentine . D. Tur. And you Iohn Clay ; you are undone too ! All ! My husband is undone , by a true key , But a false token : And my selfe 's undone , By parting with my Daughter , who 'll be married To some body , that she should not , if wee haste not .
ACT V.
SCENE I. Tub. Pol-marten . Tub. I Pray thee good Pol-marten , shew thy diligence , And faith in both : Get her , but so disguis'd , The Chanon may not know her , and leave me To plot the rest : I will expect thee here . Pol. You shall Squire . I le performe it with all care , If all my Ladies Ward-robe will disguise her . Come Mistris Awdrey . Awd . Is the Squire gone ? Pol. Hee 'll meet us by and by , where he appointed : You shall be brave anone , as none shall know you .
ACT V. SCENE II. Clench . Medlay . Pan. Scriben . To them . Tub Hilts. Cle. I wonder , where the Queenes High Constable is ! I veare , they ha' made ' hun away . Med. No zure ; The Justice Dare not conzent to that . Hee 'll zee ' un forth comming . Pan. He must , vor wee can all take corpulent oath , Wee zaw ' un goe in there . Scr. I , upon record ! The Clock dropt twelve at Maribone . Med. You are right , D'oge ! Zet downe to a minute , now 't is a ' most vowre . Cle. Here comes Squire Tub. Scr. And 's Governour , Mr. Basket . Hilts , doe you know ' hun , a valiant wise vellow ! Az tall a man on his hands , as goes on veet . Blesse you Mass ' Basket . Hil. Thanke you good D'oge . Tub. who 's that ? Hil. D'oge Scriben , the great Writer Sir of Chalcot . Tub. And , who the rest ? Hil. The wisest heads o' the hundred . Medlay the Ioyner , Head-borough of Islington , Pan of Belsize , and Clench the Leach of Hamsted . The High Constables Counsell , here of Finsbury , Tub. Prezent me to 'hem , Hilts , Squire Tub of Totten . Hil. Wise men of Finsbury : make place for a Squire , I bring to your acquaintance , Tub of Totten . Squire Tub , my Master , loves all men of vertue . And longs ( az one would zay ) till he be one on you . Cle. His worship 's wel'cun to our company : Would 't were wiser for ' hun . Pan. Here be some on us , Are call'd the witty men , over a hundred ; Scr. And zome a thousand , when the Muster day comes . Tub. I long ( as my man Hilts said , and my Governour ) To be adopt in your society . Can any man make a Masque here i' this company ? Pan. A Masque , what 's that ? Scr. A mumming , or a shew . With vizards , and fine clothes . Cle. A disguise , neighbour , Is the true word : There stands the man , can do 't Sir . Medlay the Joyner , In-and-In of Islington , The onely man at a disguize in Midlesex . Tub. But who shall write it ? Hil. Scriben , the great Writer . Scr. Hee 'll do 't alone Sir , He will joyne with no man : Though he be a Joyner , in designe he cals it . He must be sole Inventer : In-and-In . Drawes with no other in 's project , hee 'll tell you , It cannot else be feazeable , or conduce : Those are his ruling words ? Pleaze you to heare ' hun ? Tub. Yes Mr. In-and-In , I have heard of you ; Med. I can doe nothing , I. Cle. Hee can doe all Sir . Med. They 'll tell you so . Tub. I 'ld have a toy presented , A Tale of a Tub , a storie of my selfe , You can expresse a Tub. Med. If it conduce To the designe , what ere is feazeable : I can expresse a Wash-house ( If need be ) With a whole pedigree of Tubs . Tub. No , one Will be enough to note our name , and family : Squire Tub of Totten , and to shew my adventures This very day . I 'ld have it in Tubs-Hall , At Totten-Court , my Ladie Mothers house , My house indeed , for I am heire to it . Med. If I might see the place , and had survey'd it ; I could say more : For all Invention , Sir , Comes by degrees , and on the view of nature ; A world of things , concurre to the designe , Which make it feazible , if Art conduce . Tub. You say well , witty Mr. In-and-In . How long ha' you studied Ingine ? Med. Since I first Ioyn'd , or did in-lay in wit , some vorty yeare . Tub. A pretty time ! Basket , goe you and waite On Master In-and-In to Totten-Court , And all the other wise Masters ; shew 'hem the Hall : And taste the language of the buttery to 'hem ; Let 'hem see all the Tubs about the house , That can raise matter , till I come — which shall be a Within an houre at least . Cle. It will be glorious , If In-and-In will undertake it , Sir : He has a monstrous medlay wit o' his owne . Tub. Spare for no cost , either in boords , or hoops , To architect your Tub : Ha' you nere a Cooper At London call'd Vitruvius ? send for him ; Or old Iohn Haywood , call him to you , to helpe . Scr. He scornes the motion , trust to him alone .
ACT V. SCENE III. Lady . Tub. D. Tur. Clay . Puppy . Wispe . Preamble . Turfe . Lad. O , here 's the Squire ! you slip'd us finely sonne ! These manners to your Mother , will commend you ; But in an other age , not this : well Tripoly , Your Father , good Sir Peter ( rest his bones ) Would not ha done this : where 's my Huisher Martin ? And your faire Mrs. Awdrey ? Tub. I not see'hem , No creature , but the foure wise Masters here , Of Finsbury Hundred , came to cry their Constable , Who they doe say is lost . D. Tur. My husband lost ? And my fond Daughter lost ? I feare mee too . Where is your Gentleman , Madam ? Poore Iohn Clay , Thou hast lost thy Awdrey . Cla. I ha' lost my wits , My little wits , good Mother ; I am distracted . Pup . And I have lost my Mistris Dido Wispe , Who frownes upon her Puppy , Hanniball . Losse ! losse on everyside ! a publike losse ! Losse o' my Master ! losse of his Daughter ! losse Of Favour , Friends , my Mistris ! losse of all ! Pre. What Cry is this ? Tur. My man speakes of some losse . Pup . My Master is found : Good luck , and 't be thy will , Light on us all . D. Tur. O husband , are you a live ? They said you were lost . Tur. Where 's Justice Brambles Clarke ? Had he the money that I sent for ? D. Tur. Yes , Two houres agoe , two fifty pounds in silver , And Awdrey too . Tur. Why Awdrey ? who sent for her ? D. Tur. You Master Turfe , the fellow said . Tur. Hee lyed . I am cozen'd , rob'd , undone : your man 's a Thiefe , And run away with my Daughter , Mr. Bramble , And with my money . Lad. Neighbour Turfe have patience , I can assure you that your Daughter is safe , But for the monies I know nothing of . Tur. My money is my Daughter ; and my Daughter She is my money , Madam . Pre. I doe wonder Your Ladiship comes to know any thing In these affaires . Lad. Yes , Justice Bramble I met the maiden i' the fields by chance , I' the Squires company my sonne : How hee Lighted upon her , himselfe best can tell . Tub. I intercepted her , as comming hither , To her Father , who sent for her , by Miles Metaphore , Justice Preambles Clarke . And had your Ladiship Not hindred it , I had paid fine Mr. Justice For his young warrant , and new Purs'yvant , He serv'd it by this morning . Pre. Know you that Sir ? Lad. You told me , Squire , a quite other tale , But I beleev'd you not , which made me send Awdrey another way , by my Pol-marten : And take my journey back to Kentish-Towne , Where we found Iohn Clay hidden i' the barne , To scape the Huy and Cry ; and here he is . Tur. Iohn Clay age'n ! nay , then — set Cock a hoope : I ha' lost no Daughter , nor no money , Justice . Iohn Clay shall pay . I le looke to you now John . Vaith out it must , as good at night , as morning . I am ene as vull as a Pipers bag with joy , Or a great Gun upon carnation day ! I could weepe Lions teares to see you Iohn . 'T is but two viftie pounds I ha' ventur'd for you : But now I ha' you , you shall pay whole hundred . Run from your Burroughs , sonne : faith ene be hang'd . An' you once earth your selfe , Iohn , i' the barne , I ha' no Daughter vor you : Who did verret ' hun . D. Tur. My Ladies sonne , the Squire here , vetch'd ' hun out . Puppy had put us all in such a vright , We thought the Devill was i' the barne ; and no body Durst venture o' hun . Tur. I am now resolv'd , Who shall ha' my Daughter . D. Tur. Who ? Tur. He best deserves her . Here comes the Vicar . Chanon Hugh , we ha' vound Iohn Clay agen ! the matter 's all come round .
ACT V. SCENE IV. To them Chanon Hugh . Hugh . Is Metaphore return'd yet ? Pre. All is turn'd Here to confusion : we ha' lost our plot ; I feare my man is run away with the money , And Clay is found , in whom old Turfe is sure To save his stake . Hug. What shall wee doe then Justice ? Pre. The Bride was met i' the young Squires hands . Hug. And what 's become of her ? Pre. None here can tell . Tub. Was not my Mothers man , Pol-marten , with you ? And a strange Gentlewoman in his company , Of late here , Chanon ? Hug. Yes , and I dispatch'd 'hem . Tub. Dispatch'd 'hem ! how doe you meane ? Hug. Why married 'hem . As they desir'd ; But now . Tub. And doe you know What you ha' done , Sir Hugh ? Hug. No harme , I hope . Tub. You have ended all the Quarrell . Awdrey is married . Lad. Married ! to whom ? Tur. My Daughter Awdrey married , And she not know of it ! D. Tur. Nor her Father , or Mother ! Lad. Whom hath she married ? Tub. Your Pol-marten , Madam . A Groome was never dreamt of . Tur. Is he a man ? Lad. That he is Turfe , and a Gentleman , I ha' made him . D. Tur. Nay , an' he be a Gentleman , let her shift . Hug. She was so brave , I knew her not , I sweare ; And yet I married her by her owne name . But she was so disguis'd , so Lady-like ; I thinke she did not know her selfe the while ! I married 'hem as a meere p●●re of strangers : And they gave out themselves for such . Lad. I wish 'hem Much joy , as they have given me hearts ease . Tub. Then Madam , I le intreat you now remit Your jealousie of me ; and please to take All this good company home with you , to supper : Wee 'll have a merry night of it , and laugh . Lad. A right good motion , Squire ; which I yeeld to : And thanke them to accept it . Neighbour Turfe , I le have you merry , and your wife : And you , Sir Hugh , be pardon'd this your happy error . By Justice Preamble , your friend and patron . Pre. If the young Squire can pardon it , I doe .
ACT V. SCENE V. Puppy . Dido . tarry behind . Hugh Pup . Stay my deare Dido , and good Vicar Hugh , We have a busines with you : In short , this If you dare knit another paire of strangers , Dido of Carthage , and her Countrey-man , Stout Hanniball stands to 't . I have ask'd consent , And she hath granted . Hug. But saith Dido so ? Did. From what Ball-Hanny hath said , I dare not goe . Hug. Come in then , I le dispatch you . A good supper Would not be lost , good company , good discourse ; But above all where wit hath any source .
ACT V. SCENE VI. Pol-marten . Awdrey . Tub. Lady . Preamble . Turfe . D. Turfe . Clay . Lad. After the hoping of your pardon , Madam , For many faults committed . Here my wife , And I doe stand expecting your mild doome . Lad. I wish thee joy Pol-marten ; and thy wife : As much , Mrs. Pol-marten . Thou hast trick'd her Vp very fine , me thinkes . Pol. For that I made Bold with your Ladiships Wardrobe , but have trespass'd Within the limits of your leave — I hope . Lad. I give her what she weares . I know all women Love to be fine . Thou hast deserv'd it of me : I am extreamely pleas'd with thy good fortune . Welcome good Justice Preamble ; And Turfe , Looke merrily on your Daughter : She has married A Gentleman . Tur. So me thinkes ; I dare not touch her She is so fine : yet I will say , God blesse h●● . D. Tur. And I too , my fine Daughter . I could love her Now , twice as well , as if Clay had her . Tub. Come , come , my Mother is pleas'd . I pardon all , Pol-marten in , and waite upon my Lady . Welcome good Ghests : see supper be serv'd in , With all the plenty of the house , and worship . I must conferre with Mr. In-and-In , About some alterations in my Masque ; Send Hilts out to me : Bid him bring the Councell Of Finsbury hither . I le have such a night Shall make the name of Totten-Court immortall : And be recorded to posterity .
ACT V. SCENE VII . Tub. Medlay . Clench . Pan. Scriben . Hilts. Tub. O Mr. In-and-In , what ha' you done ? Med. Survey'd the place Sir , and design'd the ground , Or stand still of the worke : And this it is . First , I have fixed in the earth , a Tub ; And an old Tub , like a Salt-Peeter Tub , Preluding by your Fathers name Sir Peeter , And the antiquity of your house , and family , Originall from Salt-Peeter . Tub. Good y faith , You ha' shewne reading , and antiquity here , Sir . Med. I have a little knowledge in designe , Which I can varie Sir to Infinite . Tub. Ad Infinitum Sir you meane . Med. I doe . I stand not on my Latine , I le invent , But I must be alone then , joyn'd with no man . This we doe call the Stand-still of our worke . Tub. Who are those wee ? you now joyn'd to your selfe . Med. I meane my selfe still , in the plurall number , And out of this wee raise our Tale of a Tub. Tub. No , Mr. In-and-In , my Tale of a Tub. By your leave , I am Tub , the Tale's of me , And my adventures ! I am Squire Tub , Subjectum Fabulae . Med. But I the Author . Tub. The Worke-man Sir ! the Artificer ! I grant you . So Skelton-Lawreat ; was of Elinour Bumming : But she the subject of the Rout , and Tunning . Cle. He has put you to it , Neighbour In-and-In . Pan. Doe not dispute with him , he still will win . That paies for all . Scr. Are you revis'd o' that ? A man may have wit , and yet put off his hat . Med. Now , Sir this Tub , I will have capt with paper : A fine oild Lanterne-paper , that we use . Pan. Yes every Barber , every Cutler has it . Med. Which in it doth containe the light to the busines . And shall with the very vapour of the Candle , Drive all the motions of our matter about : As we present 'hem . For example , first The worshipfull Lady Tub. Tub. Right worshipfull , I pray you , I am worshipfull my selfe . Med. Your Squire-ships Mother , passeth by ( her Huisher , Mr. Pol-marten bareheaded before her ) In her velvet Gowne . Tub. But how shall the Spectators ? As it might be , I , or Hilts , know 't is my Mother ? Or that Pol-marten there that walkes before her . Med. O wee doe nothing , if we cleare not that . Cle. You ha' seene none of his workes Sir ? Pan. All the postures Of the train'd bands o' the Countrey . Scr. All their colours . Pan. And all their Captaines . Cle. All the Cries o' the Citie : And all the trades i' their habits . Scr. He has his whistle Of command : Seat of authority ! And virge to ' interpret , tip'd with silver , Sir You know not him . Tub. Well , I will leave all to him : Med. Give me the briefe o' your subject . Leave the whole State of the thing to me . Hil. Supper is ready , Sir . My Lady cals for you . Tub. I le send it you in writing . Med. Sir , I will render feazible , and facile , What you expect . Tub. Hilts , be 't your care , To see the Wise of Finsbury made welcome : The Squire goes out . Let 'hem want nothing . Iz old Rosin sent for ? Hil. Hee 's come within . Scri. Lord ! what a world of busines The Squire dispatches ! Med. Hee is a learned man : I thinke there are but vew o' the Innes o' Court , The rest follow . Or the Innes o' Chancery like him . Cle. Care to fit' un then .
ACT. V. SCENE VIII . Iack. Hilts. Iac. Yonder 's another wedding , Master Basket , Brought in by Vicar Hugh . Hil. what are they , Iack ? Iac. The High Constables Man , Ball Hanny ; and Mrs. Wispes , Our Ladies woman . Hil. And are the Table merry ? Iac. There 's a young Tile-maker makes all laugh ; He will not eate his meat , but cryes at th' boord , He shall be hang'd . Hil. He has lost his wench already : As good be hang'd . Iac. Was she that is Pol-marten , Our fellowes Mistris , wench to that sneake - Iohn ? Hil. I faith , Black Iack , he should have beene her Bride-groome : But I must goe to waite o' my wise Masters . Iack , you shall waite on me , and see the Maske anone : I am halfe Lord Chamberlin , i' my Masters absence . Iac. Shall wee have a Masque ? Who makes it ? Hil. In-and-In . The Maker of Islington : Come goe with me To the sage sentences of Finsbury .
ACT. V. SCENE IX . 2 Groomes . Gro. 1. Come , give us in the great Chaire , for my Lady ; And set it there : and this for Justice Bramble . Gro. 2. This for the Squire my Master , on the right hand . Gro. 1. And this for the High Constable . Gro. 2. This his wife . Gro. 1. Then for the Bride , and Bride-groome , here Pol-marten . Gro. 2. And she Pol-marten , army Ladies feet . Gro. 1. Right . Gro. 2. And beside them Mr. Hanniball Puppy . Gro. 1. And his shee Puppy , Mrs. Wispe that was : Here 's all are in the note . Gro. 2. No , Mr. Vicar : The petty Chanon Hugh . Gro. 1. And Cast-by Clay : There they are all . Tub. Then cry a Hall , a Hall ! 'T is merry in Tot tenham Hall , when beards wag all . Come Father Rozin with your Fidle now , ●ond musicke . And two tall-toters ; Flourish to the Masque .
ACT V. SCENE X. Lady Preamble before her . Tub. Turfe . D. Turfe . Pol-marten , Awdrey . Puppy . Wispe . Hugh . Clay . All take their Seats . Hilts waits on the by . Lad. Neighbours , all welcome : Now doth Totten-Hall Shew like a Court : and hence shall first be call'd so . Your witty short confession Mr. Vicar , Within hath beene the Prologue , and hath open'd Much to my sonnes device , his Tale of a Tub. Tub. Let my Masque shew it selfe : And In-and-In , The Architect , appeare ; I heare the whistle . Hil. Peace . Med. Thus rise I first , in my light linnen breeches , Medlay appeares above the Curtain . To run the meaning over in short speeches . Here is a Tub ; A Tub of Totten-Court : An ancient Tub , hath call'd you to this sport : His Father was a Knight , the rich Sir Peeter ; Who got his wealth by a Tub , and by Salt-Peeter : And left all to his Lady Tub ; the mother Of this bold Squire Tub , and to no other . Now of this Tub , and 's deeds , not done in ale , He drawes the Curtain , and discovers the top of the Tub. Hil. Ha' Peace . Loud Musick . Observe , and you shall see the very Tale.
The first Motion . Med. Here Chanon Hugh , first brings to Totten-Hall The high Constables councell , tels the Squire all ; Which , though discover'd ( give the Divell his due : ) The wise of Finsbury doe still pursue . Then with the Justice , doth he counterplot , And his Clarke Metaphore , to cut that knot : Whilst Lady Tub , in her sad velvet Gowne , Missing her sonne , doth seeke him up and downe . Tub. With her Pol-marten bare before her . Med.

Yes , I have exprest it here in figure , and Mistris Wispe her woman , holding up her traine .

Tub. I' the next page , report your second straine .
The second Motion . Hil. Ha' Peace . Loud Musick . Med. Here the high Constable , and Sages walke To Church , the Dame , the Daughter , Bride-maids talke , Of wedding busines ; till a fellow in comes , Relates the robbery of one Captaine Thum's : Chargeth the Bride-groome with it : Troubles all , And gets the Bride ; who in the hands doth fall Of the bold Squire , but thence soone is tane By the sly Justice , and his Clarke profane In shape of Pursuyvant ; which he not long Holds , but betrayes all with his trembling tongue : As truth will breake out , and shew , &c. Tub. O thou hast made him kneele there in a corner , I see now : there is simple honour for you Hilts ! Hil. Did I not make him to confesse all to you ? Tub. True ; In-and-In hath done you right , you see . Thy third I pray thee , witty In-and-In . Cle. The Squire commends ' un . He doth like all well . Pan. Hee cannot choose . This is geare made to sell .
Hil. Ha' peace . Loud musick The third Motion . Med. The carefull Constable , here drooping comes , In his deluded search , of Captaine Thum's . Puppy brings word , his Daughter 's run away . With the tall Serving-man . He frights Groome Clay , Out of his wits . Returneth then the Squire , Mocks all their paines , and gives Fame out a Lyar : For falsely charging Clay , when 't was the plot , Of subtile Bramble , who had Awdrey got , Into his hand , by this winding device . The Father makes a reskue in a trice : And with his Daughter , like Saint George on foot , Comes home triumphing , to his deare Hart root . And tell 's the Lady Tub , whom he meets there , Of her sonnes courtesies , the Batchelor . Whose words had made 'hem fall the Huy and Cry . When Captaine Thum's comming to aske him , why He had so done ? He cannot yeeld him cause : But so he runs his neck into the Lawes .
Hil. Ha' peace . Loud Musick . The fourth Motion . Med. The Lawes , who have a noose to crack his neck , As Justice Bramble tels him , who doth peck A hundreth pound out of his purse , that comes Like his teeth from him , unto Captaine Thum's . Thum's is the Vicar in a false disguise : And employes Metaphore , to fetch this prize . Who tels the secret unto Basket-Hilts , For feare of beating . This the Squire quilts Within his Cap ; and bids him but purloine The wench for him : they two shall share the coine . Which the sage Lady in her 'foresaid Gowne Breaks off , returning unto Kentish-Towne , To seeke her Wispe ; taking the Squire along , Who finds Clay Iohn , as hidden in straw throng . Hil. O , how am I beholden to the Inventer , That would not , on record against me enter ! My slacknesse here , to enter in the barne , Well In-and-In , I see thou canst discerne ! Tub. On with your last , and come to a Conclusion .
The fift Motion . Hil. Ha' peace . Loud Musicke . Med. The last is knowne , and needs but small infusion Into your memories , by leaving in These Figures as you sit . I , In-and-In , Present you with the show : First of a Lady Tub , and her sonne , of whom this Masque here , made I. Then Bride-groome Pol , and Mistris Pol the Bride : With the sub-couple , who sit them beside . Tub. That onely verse , I alter'd for the better , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 gratid . Med. Then Justice Bramble , with Sir Hugh the Chanon : And the Bride's Parents , which I will not stan'on , Or the lost Clay , with the recovered Giles : Who thus unto his Master , him ' conciles , On the Squires word , to pay old Turfe his Club , And so doth end our Tale , here , of a Tub.
The end .
EPILOGVE . Squire TVB . THis Tale of mee , the Tub of Totten-Court , A Poet , first invented for your sport . Wherein the fortune of most empty Tubs Rowling in love , are shewne ; and with what rubs , W' are commonly encountred : When the wit Of the whole Hundred so opposeth it . Our petty Chanon's forked plot in chiefe , Slie Iustice arts , with the High Constables Briefe , And brag Commands ; my Lady Mothers care ; And her Pol-martens fortune ; with the rare Fate of poore Iohn , thus tumbled in the Caske ; Got In-and-In , to gi 't you in a Masque : That you be pleas'd , who come to see a Play , With those that heare , and marke not what wee say . Wherein the Poets fortune is , I feare , Still to be early up , but nere the neare .

THE SAD SHEPHERD OR , A TALE OF ROBIN-HOOD .

WRITTEN By BEN : IOHNSON .

Virg.

Nec erubuit sylvas habitare Thaleia .

LONDON , Printed M.DC.XLI .

The Persons of the Play . Robin-hood , The chiefe Wood-man , Master of the Feast . Marian , His Lady , the Mistris . Their Family . Friar Tuck , The Chaplaine and Steward . Little Iohn , Bow-bearer . Scarlet , Two Brothers , Huntsmen . Scathlock , Two Brothers , Huntsmen . George a Greene , Huisher of the Bower . Much , Robin-hoods Bailiffe , or Acater . The Guests invited . Clarion , The Rich. Shepherds . Lionell , The Courteous . Shepherds . Alken , The Sage . Shepherds . Aeglamour , The Sad. Shepherds . Karolin , The Kind . Shepherds . Mellifleur , The Sweet . Shepherdesses Amie , The Gentle . Shepherdesses Larine , The Beautifull . Shepherdesses The troubles unexpected . Maudlin , The Envious : The Witch of Papplewicke . Douce , The Proud : Her Daughter . Lorell , The Rude . A Swine'ard , the Witches son . Puck-hairy , Or Robin-Goodfellow , their Hinc . The Reconciler . Reuben , A devout Hermit .

The SCENE is Sher-wood .

Consisting of a Landt-shape of Forrest , Hils , Vallies , Cottages , A Castle , A River , Pastures , Heards , Flocks , all full of Countrey simplicity . Robin-hoods Bower , his Well , The Witches Dimble , The Swine'ards Oake , The Hermits Cell .

THE ARGVMENT of the first ACT.

RObin-hood , having invited all the Shep'erds and Shep'erdesses of the Vale of Be'voir , to a Feast in the Forrest of Sherwood , and trusting to his Mistris , Maid Marian , with her Wood-men , to kill him Venison against the day : Having left the like charge with Friar Tuck his Chaplaine , and Steward , to command the rest of his merry men , to see the Bowre made ready , and all things in order for the entertainment ; meeting with his Guests at their entrance into the Wood , welcomes and conducts them to his Bowre . Where , by the way hee receives the relation of the sad Shep'ard Eglamour , who is falne into a deepe Melancholy , for the losse of his beloved Earine ; reported to have beene drowned in passing over the Trent , some few dayes before . They endeavour in what they can to comfort him : but , his disease having taken so strong root , all is in vaine , and they are forced to leave him . In the meane time Marian is come from hunting with the Hunts-men , where the Lovers interchangeably expresse their loves . Robin-hood enquires if she hunted the Deere at force , and what sport he made , now long hee stood , and what head hee bore : All which is briefly answer'd with a relation of breaking him up , and the Raven , and her Bone . The suspect had of that Raven to be Maudlin , the Witch of Paple-wick , whom one of the Huntsmen met i' the morning , at the rowsing of the Deere , and is confirm'd by her being then in Robin-hoods Kitchin , i' the Chimney-corner , broyling the same bit , which was throwne to the Raven , at the Quarry or Fall of the Deere . Marian being gone in , to shew the Deere to some of the Shepherdesses , returnes instantly to the Scene discontented , sends away the Venison she had kill'd , to her they call the Witch , quarrels with her Love Robin-hood , abuseth him , and his Guests the Shep'erds ; and so departs , leaving them all in wonder and perplexitie .

The PROLOGVE . HE that hath feasted you these forty yeares , And fitted Fables , for your finer eares , Although at first , he scarce could hit the bore ; Yet you , with patience harkning more and more , At length have growne up to him , and made knowne , The Working of his Pen is now your owne : He pray's you would vouchsafe , for your owne sake , To heare him this once more , but , sit awake . And though hee now present you with such wooll , As from meere English Flocks his Muse can pull , He hopes when it is made up into Cloath ; Not the most curious head here will be loath To weare a Hood of it ; it being a Fleece , To match , or those of Sicily , or Greece . His Scene is Sherwood : i And his Play a Tale Of Robin-hood's inviting from the Vale Of Be'voir , all the Shep'ards to a Feast : Where , by the casuall absence of one Guest , The Mirth is troubled much , and in one Man As much of sadnesse showne , as Passion can . The sad young Shep'ard , whom wee here present , The sad Sheep'ard passeth silently over the Stage . Like his woes Figure , darke and discontent , For his lost Love ; who in the Trent is said , To have miscarried ; 'lasse ! what knowes the head Of a calme River , whom the feet have drown'd ? Heare what his sorrowes are ; and , if they wound Your gentle brests , so that the End crowne all , Which in the Scope of one dayes chance may fall : Old Trent will send you more such Tales as these , And shall grow young againe , as one doth please . But here 's an Heresie of late let fall ; Here the Prologue thinking to end , returnes upon a new purpose , and speakes on . That Mirth by no meanes fits a Pastorall ; Such say so , who can make none , he presumes : Else , there 's no Scene , more properly assumes The Sock . For whence can sport in kind arise , But from the Rurall Routs and Families ? Safe on this ground then , wee not feare to day , To tempt your laughter by our rustick Play . Wherein if we distaste , or be cry'd downe , Wee thinke wee therefore shall not leave the Towne ; Nor that the Fore-wits , that would draw the rest Vnto their liking , alwayes like the best . The wise , and knowing Critick will not say , This worst , or better is , before he weigh ; Where every piece be perfect in the kind : And then , though in themselves he difference find , Yet if the place require it where they stood , The equall fitting makes them equall good . You shall have Love and Hate , and Iealousie , As well as Mirth , and Rage , and Melancholy : Or whatsoever else may either move , Or stirre affections , and your likings prove . But that no stile for Pastorall should goe Current , but what is stamp'd with Ah , and O ; Who judgeth so , may singularly erre ; As if all Poesie had one Character : In which what were not written , were not right , Or that the man who made such one poore flight , In his whole life , had with his winged skill Advanc'd him upmost on the Muses hill . When he like Poet yet remaines , as those Are Painters who can only make a Rose . From such your wits redeeme you , or your chance , Lest to a greater height you doe advance Of Folly , to contemne those that are knowne Artificers , and trust such as are none .
THE SAD SHEPHERD ; OR , A TALE OF Robin-hood .
ACT I.
SCENE I. Aeglamour . HEre ! she was wont to goe ! and here ! and here ! Just where those Daisies , Pincks , and Violets grow : The world may find the Spring by following her ; For other print her aerie steps neere left : Her treading would not bend a blade of grasse ! Or shake the downie Blow-ball from his stalke ! But like the soft West-wind , she shot along , And where she went , the Flowers tooke thickest root , As she had sow'd 'hem with her odorous foot .
ACT I. SCENE II. Marian. Tuck . Iohn . Wood-men , &c. Mar. Know you , or can you guesse , my merry men , What 't is that keepes your Master Robin-hood So long both from his Marian , and the Wood ? Tuc. Forsooth , Madam , hee will be here by noone , And prayes it of your bounty as a boone , That you by then have kild him Venison some , To feast his jolly friends , who hether come In threaves to frolick with him , and make cheare ; Here 's Little Iohn hath harbord you a Deere , I see by his tackling . Io. And a Hart of ten , I trow hee be , Madam , or blame your men : For by his Slot , his Entries , and his Port , His Frayings , Fewmets , he doth promise sport , And standing 'fore the Dogs ; hee beares a head , Large , and well beam'd : with all rights somm'd , and spred . Mar. Let 's rowse him quickly , and lay on the Hounds . Io. Scathlock is ready with them on the grounds ; So is his brother Scarlet : now they 'ave found His Layre , they have him sure within the pound . Mor. Away then , when my Robin bids a Feast , 'T were sinne in Marian to defraud a Guest .
ACT. I. SCENE III. Tuck . George a Greene. Much. Aeglamour . Tuc. And I , the Chaplaine , here am left to be Steward to day , and charge you all in fee , To d'on your Liveries ; see the Bowerdrest ; And fit the fine devises for the Feast : You George must care to make the Baldrick trim , And Garland that must crowne , or her , or him ; Whose Flock this yeare , hath brought the earliest Lambe ! Geo. Good Father Tuck , at your Commands I am To cut the Table out O the greene sword , Or any other service for my Lord ; To carve the Guests large seats ; and these laid in With turfe ( as soft and smooth as the Moles skin : ) And hang the bulled Nose-gaies 'bove their heads , The Pipers banck , whereon to sit and play ; And a faire Dyall to meete out the day . Our Masters Feast shall want no just delights : His entertainments must have all the rites . Muc. I , and all choise that plenty can send in ; Bread , Wine , Acates , Fowle , Feather , Fish , or Fin , Aeglamour fals in with them . For which my Fathers Nets have swept the Trent . Aeg. And ha' you found her ? Mu. Whom ? Aeg. My drowned Love . Earine ! the sweet Earine ! The bright , and beautifull Earine ! Have you not heard of my Earine ? Just by your Fathers Mills ( I thinke I am right ) Are not you Much the Millers sonne ? Mu. I am . Aeg. And Baily to brave Robin-hood ? Mu. The same . Aeg. Close by your Fathers Mills , Earine ! Earine was drown'd ! O my Earine ! ( Old Maudlin tells me so , and Douce her Daughter ) Ha' you swept the River say you ? and not found her ? Muc. For Fowle , and Fish wee have . Aeg. O not for her ? You' are goodly friends ! right charitable men ! Nay , keepe your way , and leave me : make your toyes , Your tales , your poesies , that you talk'd of ; all Your entertainments : you not injure me : Onely if I may enjoy my Cipresse wreath ! And you will let me weepe ! ( 't is all I aske ; ) Till I be turn'd to water , as was she ! And troth what lesse suit can you grant a man ? Tuck . His Phantasie is hurt , let us now leave him : The wound is yet too fresh , to admit searching . Aeg. Searching ? where should I search ? or on what track ? Can my slow drop of teares , or this darke shade About my browes , enough describe her losse ! Earine , O my Earine's losse ! No , no , no , no ; this heart will breake first . Geo. How will this sad disaster strike the eares Of bounteous Robin-hood , our gentle Master ? Mu. How will it marre his mirth , abate his feast ; And strike a horror into every guest ! Aeg. If I could knit whole clouds about my browes , And weepe like Swithen , or those watry signes , The Kids that rise then , and drowne all the Flocks Of those rich Shepherds , dwelling in this Vale ; Those carelesse Shepherds , that did let her drowne ! Then I did something or could make old Trent Drunke with my sorrow , to start out in breaches To drowne their Herds , their cattle , and their corne , Breake downe their Mils , their Dams , ore-turne their weeres , And see their houses , and whole lively-hood Wrought into water , with her , all were good : I 'ld kisse the torrent , and those whirles of Trent , That suck'd her in , my sweet Earine ! When they have cast their body on the shore , And it comes up , as tainted as themselves , All pale and bloodlesse , I will love it still , For all that they can doe , and make 'hem mad , To see how I will hugge it in mine armes ! And hang upon the lookes , dwell on her eyes : Feed round about her lips , and eate her kisses ! Suck of her drowned flesh ! and where 's their malice ? Not all their envious sousing can change that : But I will study some revenge past this ! I pray you give me leave , for I will study . Though all the Bels , Pipes , Tabors , Timburines ring That you can plant about me : I will study .
ACT I. SCENE IIII. To him . Robin-hood . Clarion . Mellifleur . Lionel . Amie . Alken . Tuck . Servants , with musick of all sorts . Rob. Welcome bright Clarion , and sweet Mellifleur , The courteous Lionel , faire Amie ; all My friends and neighbours , to the Jolly Bower Of Robin-hood , and to the greene-wood Walkes : Now that the shearing of your sheepe is done , And the wash'd Flocks are lighted of their wooll , The smoother Ewes are ready to receive . The mounting Rams againe ; and both doe feed , As either promist to increase your breed At eaning time ; and bring you lusty twins . Why should , or you , or wee so much forget The season in our selves : as not to make Vse of our youth , and spirits , to awake The nimble Horne-pipe , and the Timburine , And mixe our Songs , and Dances in the Wood , And each of us cut downe a Triumph-bough . Such were the Rites , the youthfull Iune allow . Cla. They were , gay Robin , but the sowrer sort Of Shepherds now disclaime in all such sport : And say , our Flocks the while , are poorely fed , When with such vanities the Swaines are led . Tuc. Would they , wise Clarion , were not hurried more With Covetise and Rage , when to their store They adde the poore mans Eaneling , and dare sell Both Fleece , and Carkasse , not gi'ing him the Fell. When to one Goat , they reach that prickly weed , Which maketh all the rest forbeare to feed ; Or strew Tods haires , or with their tailes doe sweepe The dewy grasse , to d'off the simpler sheepe ; Or digge deepe pits , their Neighbours Neat to vexe , To drowne the Calves , and crack the Heifers necks . Or with pretence of chasing thence the Brock , Send in a curre to worrie the whole Flock . Lio. O Friar , those are faults that are not seene , Ours open , and of worst example beene . They call ours , Pagan pastimes , that infect Our blood with ease , our youth with all neglect ; Our tongues with wantonnesse , our thoughts with lust , And what they censure ill , all others must . Rob. I doe not know , what their sharpe sight may see Of late , but I should thinke it still might be ( As 't was ) a happy age , when on the Plaines , The Wood-men met the Damsells , and the Swaines The Neat'ards , Plow-men , and the Pipers loud , And each did dance , some to the Kit , or Crowd , Some to the Bag-pipe , some the Tabret-mov'd , And all did either love , or were belov'd . Lio. The dextrous Shepherd then would try his sling , Then dart his Hooke at Daysies , then would sing . Sometimes would wrastle . Cla. I , and with a Lasse : And give her a new garment on the grasse ; After a course at Barley-breake , or Base . Lio. And all these deeds were seene without offence , Or the least hazard o' their innocence . Rob. Those charitable times had no mistrust . Shepherds knew how to love , and not to lust . Cla. Each minute that wee lose thus , I confesse , Deserves a censure on us , more or lesse ; But that a sadder chance hath given allay , Both to the Mirth , and Musicke of this day . Our fairest Shepherdesse wee had of late , Here upon Trent , is drown'd ; for whom her mate Young Aeglamour , a Swaine , who best could tread Our countrey dances , and our games did lead , Lives like the melancholy Turtle , drown'd Deeper in woe , then she in water : crown'd With Yewgh and Cypressa , and will scarce admit The Physick of our presence to his fit . Lio. Sometimes he sits , and thinkes all day , then walkes , Then thinkes againe ; and sighes , weeps , laughs , and talkes , And , 'twixt his pleasing frenzie , and sad griefe , Is so distracted ; as no sought reliefe , By all our studies can procure his peace . Cla. The passion finds in him that large increase , As wee doubt hourely wee shall lose him too . Rob. You should not crosse him then what ere you doe : For Phant'sie stop'd , will soone take fire , and burne Into an anger , or to a Phrensie turne . Cla. Nay , so wee are advis'd by Alhen here , A good sage Shepherd , who all-tho ' he weare An old worne hat and cloake , can tell us more Then all the forward Fry , that boast their Lore . Lio. See , yonder comes the brother of the Maid , Young Karolin ! how curious , and afraid Hee is at once ! willing to find him out , And loath to'offend him . Alken . Sure hee 's here about .
ACT I. SCENE V. Robin-hood . Clarion . Mellifleur . Lionel . Amie . Alken . Karolin . Aeglamour , sitting upon a banke by . Cla. See where hee sits . Aeg. It will be rare , rare , rare ! An exquisite revenge : but peace , no words ! Not for the fairest fleece of all the Flock ; If it be knowne afore , 't is all worth nothing ! I le carve it on the trees , and in the turfe , On every greene sworth , and in every path , Just to the Margin of the cruell Trent ; There will I knock the story in the ground , In smooth great peble , and mosse fill it round , Till the whole Countrey read how she was drown'd , And with the plenty of salt teares thereshed , Quite alter the complexion of the Spring . Or I will get some old , old Grandam , thither , Whose rigid foot but dip'd into the water , Shall strike that sharpe and suddaine cold , throughout , As it shall loose all vertue ; and those Nimphs , Those treacherous Nimphs pull'd in Earine ; Shall stand curl'd up , like Images of Ice ; And never thaw ! marke , never ! a sharpe Justice : Or stay , a better ! when the yeares at hottest , And that the Dog-starre fomes , and the streames boiles , And curles , and workes , and swells ready to sparkle : To fling a fellow with a Fever in , To set it all on fire , till it burne , Blew as Scamander , 'fore the walls of Troy ; When Vulcan leap'd in to him , to consume him . Rob. A deepe hurt Phant'sie . Aeg. Doe you not approve it ? Rob. Yes gentle Aeglamour , wee all approve , And come to gratulate your just revenge : Which since it is so perfect , we now hope , You 'l leave all care thereof , and mixe with us , In all the profer'd solace of the Spring . Aeg. A Spring , now she is dead : of what , of thornes ? Briars , and Brambles ? Thistles ? Burs , and Dorks ? Cold Hemlock ? Yewgh ? the Mandrake , or the Boxe ? These may grow still ; but what can spring beside ? Did not the whole Earth sicken , when she died ? As if there since did fall one drop of dew , But what was wept for her ! or any stalke Did beare a Flower ! or any branch a bloome ; After her wreath was made : In faith , in faith You doe not faire , to put these things upon me . Which can in no sort be : Earine , Who had her very being , and her name , With the first knots , or buddings of the Spring , Borne with the Prim rose , and the Violet , Or earliest Roses blowne : when Cupid smil'd , And Venus led the Graces out to dance , And all the Flowers , and Sweets in Natures lap , Leap'd out and made their solemne Conjuration , To last , but while shee liv'd : Doe not I know , How the Vale wither'd the same Day ? How Dove , Deane , Eye , and Erwash , Idell , Snite , and Soare , Each broke his Vrne , and twenty waters more , That swell'd proud Trent , shrunke themselves dry ; that since , No Sun , or Moone , or other cheerfull Starre Look'd out of heaven ! but all the Cope was darke , As it were hung so for her Exequies ! And not a voice or sound , to ring her knell : But of that dismall paire , the scritching Owle ; And buzzing Hornet ! harke , harke , harke the foule Bird ! how shee flutters with her wicker wings ! Peace you shall heare her scritch . Cla. Good Karolin sing , Helpe to divert this Phant'sie . Kar . All I can . Though I am young , and cannot tell , The Song . Which while Karolin sings , Aeglamour reades Either what Death , or Love is well , Yet I have heard , they both beare darts , And both doe ayme at humane hearts : And then againe , I have beene told Love wounds with heart , as Death with cold ; So that I feare , they doe but bring Extreames to touch , and meane one thing . As in a ruine , we it call One thing to be blowne up , or fall ; Or to our end , like way may have , By a flash of lightning , or a wave : So Loves inflamed shaft , or brand , May kill as soone as Deaths cold hand ; Except Loves fires the vertue have To fright the frost out of the grave . Aeg. Doe you thinke so ? are you in that good heresie ? I meane opinion ? If you be , say nothing : I 'll study it , as a new Philosophy , But by my selfe alone : Now you shall leave me I Some of these Nimphs , here will reward you ; this This pretty Maid , although but with a kisse , Hee forces Amie to kisse him . Liv'd my Earine , you should have twenty : For every line here , one I would allow 'hem From mine owne store , the treasure I had in her : Now I am poore as you . Kar . And I a wretch ! Cla. Yet keepe an eye upon him , Karoline . Mel. Alas that ever such a generous spirit , Aeglamour goes out , and Karolin followes him . As Aeglamours , should sinke by such a losse . Cla. The truest Lovers are least fortunate , Lookes all their Lives , and Legends ; what they call The Lovers Scriptures : Heliodores , or Tatij ! Longi ! Eustathij ! Prodomi ! you 'l find it ! What thinke you Father ? Alk. I have knowne some few , And read of more ; wh'have had their dose , and deepe , Of these sharpe bitter-sweets . Lio. But what is this To jolly Robin ? who the Story is , Of all beatitude in Love ? Cla. And told Here every day , with wonder on the world . Lio. And with fames voice . Alk. Save that some folke delight To blend all good of others , with some spight . Cla. Hee , and his Marian , are the Summe and Talke Of all , that breath here in the Greene-wood Walke . Mel. Or Be'voir Vale ? Kar . The Turtles of the Wood. Cla. The billing Paire . Alk. And so are understood For simple loves , and sampled lives beside . Mel. Faith , so much vertue should not be envi'd . Alk. Better be so , then pittied Mellifleur ! For 'gainst all envy , vertue is a cure ; But wretched pitty ever cals on scornes . The Deeres brought home : I heare it by their hornes .
ACT I. SCENE VI. To Robin , &c. Marian. Iohn . Scarlet . Scathlock . Rob. My Marian , and my Mistris ! Mar. My lov'd Robin ! Mel. The Moones at full , the happy paire are met ! Mar. How hath this morning paid me , for my rising ! First , with my sports ; but most with meeting you ! I did not halfe so so well reward my hounds , As she hath me to day : although I gave them All the sweet morsels , call'd Tongue , Eares , and Dowcets ! Rob. What ? and the inch-pin ? Mar. Yes . Rob. Your sports then pleas'd you ? Mar. You are a wanton . Rob. One I doe confesse I wanted till you came , but now I have you , I le grow to your embraces , till two soules Distilled into kisses , through our lips Doe make one spirit of love . Mar. O Robin ! Robin ! Rob. Breathe , breathe a while , what sayes my gentle Marian ? Mar. Could you so long be absent ? Rob. What a weeke ? Was that so long ? Mar. How long are Lovers weekes ! Doe you think Robin , when they are asunder ? Are they not Pris'ners yeares ? Rob. To some they seem so ; But being met againe , they' are Schoole-boyes houres . Mar. That have got leave to play , and so wee use them . Rob. Had you good sport i' your chase to day ? Io. O prime ! Mar. A lusty Stagge ? Rob. And hunted yee at force ? Mar. In a full cry . Io. And never hunted change ! Rob. You had stanch Hounds then ? Mar. Old and sure , I love No young rash dogs , no more then changing friends . Rob. What relayes set you ? Io. None at all ; we laid not In one fresh dog . Rob. Hee stood not long then ? Sca. Yes , Five houres and more . A great , large Deere ! Rob. What head ? Ioh. Forked ! A Hart of ten . Mar. Hee is good Venison , According to the season i' the blood , I 'll promise all your friends , for whom he fell . Ioh. But at his fall there hap't a chance . Mar. Worth marke ? Rob. I ! what was that sweet Marian He kisses her . Mar. You 'll not heare ? Rob. I love these interruptions in a Story ; He kisses her againe . They make it sweeter . Mar. You doe know , as soone As the Assay is taken . He kisses her againe . Rob. On my Marian. I did but take the Assay . Mar. You stop ones mouth , And yet you bid 'hem speake — when the Arbors made . Rob. Puld downe , and paunch turn'd out . Mar. Hee that undoes him ; Doth cleave the brisket-bone , upon the spoone Of which , a little gristle growes , you call it — Rob. the Ravens-bone . Mar. Now , ore head sate a Raven ! On a sere bough ! a growne great Bird ! and Hoarse ! Who , all the while the Deere was breaking up , So crok'd and cry'd for 't , as all the hunts-men , ( Especially old Scathlocke ) thought it ominous ! Swore it was Mother Maudlin ; whom he met , At the Day-dawne ; just as hee rows'd the Deere , Out of his Laire : but wee made shift to run him Off his foure leggs , and sunke him e're wee left . Is the Deere come ? Scat. Hee lies within ô the dresser ! Mar. Will you goe see him Mellifleur ? Mel. I attend you . Mar. Come Amie , you 'll goe with us ? Am. I am not well . Lio. Shee 's sick o' the yong Shep'ard that be kist her . Mar. Friend , cheare your friends up , wee will eate him merrily , Alk. Saw you the Raven , Friend ? Scat. I , qu'ha suld let me ? I suld be afraid ô you sir suld I ? Clar. Hunts-man ! A Dram more of Civilitie would not hurt you ? Rob. Nay , you must give them all their rudenesses ; They are not else themselves , without their language . Alk. And what do you thinke of her ? Scat. As of a Witch . They call her a Wise-woman , but I thinke her An arrant Witch . Cla. And wherefore think you so ? Sca. Because , I saw her since , broiling the bone Was cast her at the Quarrie . Alk. Where saw you her ? Sca. I' the Chimley nuik , within : shee 's there , now . Rob. Marian ▪
ACT I. SCENE VII . To them Marian. Your Hunt holds in his tale , still ; and tells more ! Mar. My Hunt ? what tale ? Rob. How ! cloudie , Marian ! What looke is this ? Mar. A fit one , Sir , for you . To Scathlock . Hand off rude Ranger ! Sirrah , get you in And beare the Venison hence . It is too good For these course rustick mouthes that cannot open , Or spend a thanke for 't . A starv'd Muttons carkasse Would better fit their palates . See it carried To Mother Maudlins , whom you call the Witch , Sir . Tell her I sent it to make merrie with , Shee 'll turne us thanks at least ! why stand'st thou , Groome ? Rob. I wonder he can move ! that hee 's not fix'd ! If that his feeling be the same with mine ! I dare not trust the faith of mine owne senses . I feare mine eyes , and eares ! this is not Marian ! Nor am I Robin-hood ! I pray you aske her ! Aske her good Shep'ards ! aske her all for me ; Or rather aske yourselves , if shee be shee ; Or I , be I. Mar. Yes , and you are the spie : And the spi'd Spie , that watch upon my walkes , To informe what Deere I kill , or give away ! Where ! when ! to whom ! but spie your worst , good Spie ! I will dispose of this where least you like ! Fall to your cheese-cakes , curdes , and clawted creame , Your fooles , your flaunes ; and of ale a streame To wash it from your livers : straine ewes milke Into your Cider sillabubs , and be drunke To him , whose Fleece hath brought the earliest Lambe This yeare ; and weares the Baudrick at your bord ! Where you may all goe whistle ; and record Shee leaves them . This i' your dance : and foot it lustily . Rob. I pray you friends , doe you heare ? and see , as I doe ? Did the same accents strike your eares ? and objects ? Your eyes , as mine ? Alk. Wee taste the same reproches ! Lio. Have seen the changes ! Rob. Are wee not all chang'd , Transformed from our selves ? Lio. I do not know ! The best is silence ! Alk. And to await the issue . Rob. The dead , or lazie wait for 't : I will find it .
The Argument of the second ACT.

THe Witch Maudlin , having taken the shape of Marian to abuse Robin-hood , and perplexe his guests , commeth forth with her daughter Douce , reporting in what confusion shee hath left them ; defrauded them , of their Venison ; made them suspitious each of the other ; but most of all Robin-hood so jealous of his Marian , as shee hopes no effect of love would ever reconcile them ; glorying so farre in the extent of her mischiefe , as shee confesseth to have surpriz'd Earine , strip'd her of her garments , to make her daughter appeare fine , at this feast , in them ; and to have shut the maiden up in a tree , as her sonnes prize , if he could winne her ; or his prey , if he would force her . Her Sonne a rude bragging swine'ard , comes to the tree to woo her ( his Mother , and Sister stepping aside , to over-heare him ) and first boasts his wealth to her , and his possessions ; which move not . Then he presents her guifts , such as himselfe is taken with , but shee utterly showes a scorne , and loathing both of him , and them . His mother is angry , rates him , instructs him what to doe the next time , and persuades her daughter , to show her selfe about the bower : tells , how shee shall know her mother , when she is transformed , her broidered belt . Meane while the yong sheep'ardes Amy being kist by Karolin , Earines brother , before , falls in Love ; but knowes not what Love is : but describes her disease so innocently , that Marian pitties her . When Robin-hood , and the rest of his Guests invited , enter to Marian , upbraiding her with sending away their Venison to Mother Maudlin by Scathlock , which shee denies ; Scatchlock affirmes it , but seeing his Mistres weep , & to forsweare it , begins to doubt his owne understanding , rather then affront her farder ; which makes Robin-hood , and the rest , to examine themselves better . But Mandlin entering like her selfe , the Witch comes to thanke her for her bountie : at which , Marian is more angrie , and more denies the deed . Scathlock enters , tells he has brought it againe , & delivered it to the Cooke . The Witch is inwardly vext , the Venison is so recover'd from her , by the rude Huntsman ; and murmurs , and curses , bewitches the Cooke , mocks poore Amie , and the rest , discovereth her ill nature , and is a meane of reconciling them all . For the sage Shepherd , suspecteth her mischeife , if shee be not prevented : and so perswadeth to seize on her . Whereupon Robin-hood dispatcheth out his woodmen to hunt , and take her . which ends the Act.

ACT. II.
SCENE . I. Maudlin . Douce . Mau. HAve I not left 'em in a brave confusion ? Amaz'd their expectation ? got their Venison ? Troubled their mirth , and meeting ? made them doubtfull , And jealous of each other ? all distracted ? And , i' the close , uncertaine of themselves ? This can your Mother doe my daintie Douce ! Take anie shape upon her ! and delude The senses , best acquainted with their Owners ! The jolly Robin , who ' hath bid this feast , And made this solemne invitation ; I ha' possessed so , with syke dislikes Of his owne Marian , that all-bee ' he know her , As doth the vauting hart , his venting hind , Hee nêre fra' hence , sall neis her i' the wind , To his first liking . Dou. Did you so distate him ? Mau. As farre as her proud scorning him , could 'bate Or blunt the edge of any Lovers temper . Dou. But were yee like her mother ? Mau. So like Douce , As had shee seen me her sel' , her sel' had doubted Whether had been the liker off the twâ ! This can your Mother doe , I tell you Daughter ! I ha' but dight yee , yet ; i' the out-dresse ; And ' parraile of Earine ! but this raiment , These very weeds , sall make yee , as but comming In view or ken of Aeglamour , your forme Shall show too slipperie to be look'd upon ! And all the Forrest sweare you to be shee ! They shall rin after yee , and wage the odds , Upo' their owne deceived sights , yee ' are her ! Whilst shee ( poore Lasse ) is stock'd up in a tree : Your brother Lorells prize ! For so my largesse , Hath lotted her , to be your brothers Mistresse ; Gif shee can be reclaim'd : gif not , his Prey ! And here he comes , new claithed , like a Prince Of Swine ards ! sike he seemes ! dight i' the spoiles Of those he feedes ! A mightie Lord of Swine ! He is command now , to woo . Let s step aside , And heare his love-craft ! See , he opes the dore ! And takes her by the hand , and helpes her forth ! This is true court-ship , and becomes his ray .
ACT II. SCENE II. Lorel . Earine . Maudlin . Douce . Lor. Yee kind to others , but yee coy to mee Deft Mistres ! whiter then the cheese , new prest ! Smoother then creame ! and softer then the curds ! Why start yee from mee , ere yee heare me tell My wooing errand ; and what rents I have ? Large heards , and pastures ! Swine , and Kie , mine owne ! And though my na'se be camus'd , my lipps thick , And my chin bristled ! Pan , great Pan , was such ! Who was the chiefe of Heards-men , and our Sire ! I am na ' Fay ! na ' Incubus ! na ' Changlin ! But a good man , that lives o' my awne geere . This house ! these grounds ! this stock is all mine awne ! Ear. How better 't were to mee , this were not knowne ! Mau. Shee likes it not : but it is boasted well ! Lor. An hundred Udders for the payle I have , That gi' mee Milke and Curds , that make mee Cheese To cloy the Mercatts ! twentie swarme of Bees , Whilke ( all the Summer ) hum about the hive , And bring mee Waxe , and Honey in by live . An aged Oake the King of all the field , With a broad Beech there growes afore my dur , That mickell Mast unto the ferme doth yeild . A Chestnut , whilk hath larded money a Swine , Whose skins I weare , to fend me fra the Cold. A Pop●●● greene , and with a kerved Seat , Under whose shade I solace in the heat ; And thence can see gang out , and in , my neat . Twa trilland brookes , each ( from his spring ) doth meet , And make a river , to refresh my feet : In which , each morning ere the Sun doth rise , I look my selfe , and cleare my pleasant eyes , Before I pipe ; For , therein I have skill 'Bove other Swine'ards . Bid mee , and I will Straight play to you , and make you melodie . Ear. By no meanes . Ah! to me all minstrelsie Is irksome , as are you . Lor. Why scorne you mee ? Hee drawes out other presents . Because I am a Heards-man , and feed Swine ! I am a Lord of other geere ! this sine Smooth Bawsons Cub , the young Grice of a Gray ; Twa tynie Urshins , and this Ferret gay . Ear. Out on 'hem ! what are these ? Lor. I give 'hem yee ; As presents Mrs. Ear. O , the feind , and thee ! Gar take them hence : they few mand all the claithes , And prick my Coates : hence with 'hem , limmer lowne , Thy vermin , and thy selfe , thy felfe art one ; I lock me up . All 's well when thou art gone .
ACT II. SCENE III. Lorel . Maudlin . Douce . Lor. Did you heare this ? shee wish'd mee at the feind , With all my presents ! Mau. A tu luckie end Shee wishend thee , fowle Limmer ! drittie Lowne ! Gud faith , it duills mee that I am thy Mother ! And see , thy Sister scornes thee , for her Brother ! Thou woo thy Love ? thy Mistresse ? with twa Hedge-hoggs ? A stinkand brock ? a polcat ? out thou houlet ! Thou shoul'dst ha'given her , a Madge-Owle ! and then Tho' hadst made a present o' thy selfe , Owle-spiegle ! Dou. Why , Mother , I have heard yee bid to give ; And often , as the Cause calls . Mau. I know well , It is a wittie part , sum-times , to give . But what ? to whame ? no monsters ! nor to maidens ! Hee suld present them with mare pleasand things , Things naturall , and what all woemen covet To see : the common Parent of us all ! Which Maids will twire at , 'tween their fingers , thus ! With which his Sire gat him ! Hee 's gett another ! And so beget posteritie upon her ! This he should do ! ( false Gelden ) gang thy gait And du thy turnes , betimes : or , I' is gar take Thy new breikes fra' thee , and thy duib let tu . The Talleur , and the Sowter sall undu ' All they ha' made ; except thou manlier woo ! Lorell goes out . Dou. Gud Mother , gif yow chide him , hee 'll du wairs . Mau. Hang him : I geif him to the Devills eirs . But , yee my Douce , I charge yee , shew your sell , Tu all the Sheep'ards , baudly : gaing amang'hem . Be mickell i' their eye , frequent , and fuge and. And , gif they aske yee of Earine , Or of these claithes ; say , that I ga' hem yee , And say no more . I ha' that wark in hand , That web upo' the Luime , sall gar 'hem thinke By then , they feelin their owne frights , and feares , I' is pu ' the world , or Nature , bout their eares . But , heare yee Douce , bycause , yee may meet mee In mony shapes tu day ; where ere you spie This browdred belt , with Characters , t is I. A Gypsan Ladie , and a right Beldame , Wrought it by Moone-shine for mee , and Star-light , Upo' your Granams grave , that verie night Wee earth'd her , in the shades ; when our Dame Hecat , Made it her gaing-night , over the Kirk-yard , Withall the barke and parish tykes set at her , While I sate whyrland , of my brasen spindle : At every twisted thrid my rock let flie Unto the sew'ster , who did sit me nigh , Under the towne-turne-pike ; which ran each spell She stitched in the worke , and knit it well . See , yee take tent to this , and ken' your Mother .
ACT II. SCENE IV. Marian. Mellifleur . Amie . Mar. How do you sweet Amie ? yet ? Mel. Shee cannot tell , If shee could sleepe , shee saies , shee should do well . Shee feeles a hurt , but where , shee cannot show Any least signe , that shee is hurt or no. Her paine 's not doubtfull to her ; but the seat Of her paine is . Her thoughts too work , and beat , Opprest with Cares : but why , shee cannot say . All matter of her care is quite away . Mar. Hath any Vermin broke into your Fold ? Or any rott seiz'd on your flock ? or cold ? Or hath your feighting Ram , burst his hard horne ? Or any Ewe her fleece ? or bag hath torne , My gentle Amie ? Am. Marian , none of these . Mar. Ha' you been stung by Waspes , or angry Bees ? Or raz'd with some rude bramble , or rough briar ? Am. No Marian ; my disease is somewhat nigher . I weep , and boile away my Selfe , in teares ; And then my panting heart would dry those feares : I burne , though all the Forrest lend a shade ; And freize , though the whole Wood one fire were made . Mar. Alas ! Am. I often have been torne with thorne and briar ; Both in the Leg , and Foot , and somewhat higher : Yet gave not then such fearfull shreikes as these . Ah! I often have been stung too , with curst Bees , Yet not remember that I then did quit Either my Companie , or Mirth for it . Ah! And therefore , what it is that I feele now , And know no cause of it , nor where , nor how , It entred in mee , nor least print can see , I feele afflicts mee more , then Briar , or Bee . Oh! How often , when the Sun heavens brightest birth Hath with his burning fervour cleft the earth , Under a spreading Elme , or Oake , hard by A coole cleare fountaine , could I sleeping lie Safe from the heate ? but now , no shadie tree , Nor purling brook , can my refreshing bee ? Oft when the medowes , were growne rough with frost , The rivers ice-bound , and their currents lost , My thick warme fleece I wore , was my defence Or large good fires , I made , drave winter thence . But now , my whole flocks fells , nor this thick grove , Enflam'd to ashes , can my cold remove . It is a cold , and heat , that doth out goe All sense of Winters , and of Summers so .
ACT II. SCENE V. Robin-hood . Clarion . Lionel . Alken . Rob. O' , are you here , my Mistresse ? Mar. I my Love ! Shee seing him , runs to imbrace him . He puts her back . Where should I be , but in my Robins armes ? The Sphere which I delight in , so to move ? Rob. What the rude Ranger ? and spied Spie ? hand off : You are for no such rusticks . Mar. What meanes this , Thrice worthy Clarion ? or wise Alken ? know yee ? Rob. 'Las no , not they ! a poore sterv'd Muttons carkasse Would better fit their palat's , then your Venison . Mar. What riddle is this ! unfold your selfe , deare Robin . Rob. You ha' not sent your Venison hence by Scathlock , To Mother Maudlin ? Mar. I to Mother Maudlin ? Will Scathlock say so ? Rob. Nay , wee will all sweare so . For all did heare it , when you gave the charge so . Both Clarion , Alken , Lionel , my selfe . Mar. Good honest Shep'ards , Masters of your flocks , Simple , and vertuous men , no others hirelings ; Be not you made to speake against your Conscience , That which may soile the truth . I send the Venison Away ? by Scathlock ? and to mother Maudlin ? I came to shew it here , to Mellifleur , I doe confesse ; but Amies falling ill , Did put us of it : Scathlock , enters . Since wee imploied our selves In comforting of her . O' , here he is ! Did I , Sir , bid you beare away the Venison , To mother Maudlin ? Sca. I gud faith , Madam , Did you , and I ha' done it . Mar. What ha' you done ? Sea . Obey'd your hests , Madam ; done your Commaunds . Mar. Done my Commaunds , dull groome ? Fetch it againe Or kennel with the hounds . Are these the Arts Robin , you read your rude ones o' the wood , To countenance your quarrells , and mistakings ? Or are the sports to entertaine your friends Those formed jealousies ? Aske of Mellifleur , If I were ever from her , here , or Amie , Since I came in with them ; or saw this Scathlock , Since I related to you his tale , o' the Raven ? Sca. Scathlock goes out . I , say you so ? Mel. Shee never left my side Since I came in , here , nor I hers . Cla. This 's strange ! Our best of Senses were deceiv'd , our eyes , then ! Lio. And eares too . Mar. What you have concluded on , Make good I pray you . Am. O' my heart , my heart ! Mar. My heart it is , is wounded prettie Amie ; Report not you your greifes : I 'll tell for all . Mel. Some body is to blame , there is a fault . Mar. Try if you can take rest . A little slumber Will much refresh you ( Amie ) . Alk. What 's her greif ? Mar. Shee does not know : and therein shee is happie .
ACT II. SCENE VI. John , Maudlin , and Scathlock after . To them Joh. Here 's Mother Maudlin come to give you thanks , Madam , for some late guift , shee hath receiv'd — Which shee 's not worthie of , shee saies , but crakes , And wonders of it ; hoppes about the house ; Shee daunceth . Transported with the joy . Mau. Send mee a Stagge ! A whole Stagge , Madam ! and so fat a Deere ! So fairelie hunted , and at such a time too ! When all your freinds were here ! Rob. Do you mark this , Clarion ? Her owne acknowledgement ? Mau. 'T was such a bountie And honour done to your poore Bedes-woman , I know not how to owe it , but to thanke you . And that I come to du : I shall goe round , Shee turnes round , till shee falls . And giddie with the toy of the good turne . Looke out , looke out , gay folke about , And see mee spin ; the ring I' am in Of mirth , & glee , with thanks for fee The heart putts on , for th' Venison My Lady sent , which shall be spent In draughts of Wine , to fume up fine Into the braine , and downe againe Fall in a Swoune , upo' the growne . Rob. Look to her , shee is mad . Man . My Son hath sent you A pott of Strawberries , gather'd i' the wood ( His Hoggs would els have rooted up , or trod ) With a choice dish of wildings here , to scald And mingle with your Creame . Mar. Thank you good Maudlin , And thanke your Sonne . Go , beare 'hem into Much Th' Acater , let him thanke her . Surelie , Mother You were mistaken , or my Woodmen more , Or most my selfe , to send you all our store Of Venison , hunted for our selves , this day ! You will not take it , Mother , I dare say , If wee'lld intreat you ; whan you know our ghests : Red Deere is head still of the forrest feasts . Mau. But I knaw yee , a right free-hearted Ladie , Can spare it out of superfluitie : I have departit it 'mong my poore Neighbours To speake your Largesse . Mar. I not gave it , Mother ; You have done wrong . then ; I know how to place My guifts , and where ; and when to find my seasons To give , not throw away my Curtesies . Mau. Count you this thrown away ? Mar. What 's ravish'd from mee I count it worse ; as stolne : I loose my thanks . But leave this quest: they fit not you , not mee , Maudlin , Contentions of this qualitie . How now ? Sca. Your Stag's return'd upon my shoulders , Scathlock , enters . Hee has found his way into the Kitchin againe : With his two Leggs , If now your Cooke can dresse him ; Slid , I thought the Swine'ard would ha' be at mee , Hee lookes so big ! the sturdie Karle , lewd Lorel ! Mar. There Scathlock , for thy plines , thou hast deserv'd it . Marian gives him Gold . Mau. Do you give a thing , and take a thing , Madam ? Mar. No , Maudlin , you had imparted to your Neighbours ; As much good doo 't them : I ha' done no wrong . Mau. The Spit stand still , no Broches turne Before the fire , The first Charme . but let it burne Both sides , and haunches , till the whole Converted be into one Cole . Cla. What Devills Pater noster mumbles shee ? Alk. Stay , you will heare more of her witcherie Mau. The Swilland Dropsie enter in The Lazie Cuke , and swell his skin ; And the old Mort-malon his shin Now prick , and itch , withouten blin . Cla. Speake out Hagge , wee may heare your Devills Mattens . Mau. The Paene , wee call S. Antons fire The Gout , or what wee can desire , To crampe a Cuke , in every lim , Before they dine , yet ; seize on him . Alk. A soule ill Spirit hath possessed her . Am. O Karol , Karol , call him back againe . Lio. Her thoughts do worke upon her , in her slumber . And may expresse some part of her disease . Rob. Observe , and marke , but trouble not her ease . Am. O' , ô. Mar. How is 't Amie ? Mel. Wherfore start you ? Am. O' Karol , he is faire , and sweet . Mau. What then ? Are there not flowers as sweet , and faire , as men ? The Lillie is faire ! and Rose is sweet ! Am. I' , so ! Let all the Roses , and the Lillies goe : Karol is only faire to mee ! Mar. And why ? Am. Alas for Karol , Marian , I could die . Karol . He singeth sweetly too ! Mau. What then ? Are there not Birds sing sweeter farre , then Men ? Am. I grant the Linet , Larke , and Bul-finchsing , But best , the deare , good Angell of the Spring , The Nightingale . Mau. Then why ? then why , alone , Should his notes please you ? Am. I not long agone Tooke a delight , with wanton kidds to play , And sport with little Lambes a Summers Day ! And view their friskes ! me thought it was a sight Of joy , to see my two brave Rammes to fight ! Now Karol , onely , all delight doth move ! All that is Karol , Karol I approve ! This verie morning , but — ( I did bestow ( It was a little 'gainst my will , I know ) A single kisse , upon the seelie Swaine , And now I wish that verie kisse againe . His lip is softer , sweeter then the Rose His mouth , and tongue with dropping honey flowes . The relish of it was a pleasing thing . Mau. Yet like the Bees it had a little sting . Am. And sunke , and sticks yet in my marrow deepe And what doth hurt me , I now wish to keepe . Mar. Alas , how innocent her Storie is ! Am. I doe remember , Marian , I have oft With pleasure kist my Lambes , and Puppies , soft , And once a daintie fine Roe-fawne I had , Of whose out-skipping bounds , I was as glad As of my health ; and him I oft would kisse : Yet had his , no such sting , or paine , as this . They never prick't or hurt my heart . And , for They were so blunt , and dull , I wish no more . But this , that hurtes , and prickes doth please ; This sweet , Mingled with sower , I wish againe to meet : And that delay , mee thinks , most tedious is That keepes , or hinders mee of Karols kisse . Mar. Wee 'll send for him sweet Amie , to come to you . Mau. Shee goes murmuring out . But , I will keepe him of if Charmes will doe it . Cla. Doe you marke the murmuring hagge , how shee doth mutter ? Rob. I like her not . And lesse her manners now . Alk. Shee is a shrewd deformed peice , I vow . Lio. As crooked as her bodie . Rob. I beleeve Shee can take any Shape ; as Scathlock saies . Alk. Shee may deceive the Sense , but really Shee cannot change her selfe . Rob. Would I could see her , Once more in Marians forme ! for I am certaine Now , it was shee abus'd us ; as I think My Marian , and my Love , now , innocent : Which faith I seale unto her , with this kisse , And call you all to witnesse of my pennance . Alk. It was beleiv'd before , but now confirm'd , That wee have seen the Monster .
ACT II. SCENE VII . Tuck . John . Much. Scarlet . To them Tuc. Heare you how Poore Tom , the Cooke , is taken ! All his joynts Do crack , as if his Limbes were tied with points : His whole frame slackens ; and a kind of rack Runs downe along the Spondylls of his back ; A Gowt , or Crampe , now seizeth on his head , Then falls into his feet ; his knees are lead ; And he can stirre his either hand , no more Then a dead stumpe , to his office , as before . Alk. Hee is bewitched . Cla. This is an Argument Both of her malice , and her power , wee see . Alk. Shee must by some device restrained bee , Or shee 'll goe farre in mischiefe . Rob. Advise how , Sage Shep'ard , wee shall put it straight in practice . Alk. Send forth your woodmen , then , into the walkes , Or let 'em prick her footing hence ; A Witch Is sure a Creature of Melancholy , And will be found , or sitting in her fourme , Or els , at releife , like a Hare . Cla. You speake Alken , as if you knew the sport of Witch-hunting , Enter George to the Huntsmen ; who by themselves continue the Scene . The rest going off . Or starting of a Hag. Rob. Go sirs about it , Take George here with you , he can helpe to find her ; Leave Tuck , and Much behind to dresse the Dinner , I' the Cookes stead . Much. Wee 'll care to get that done . Rob. Come Marian , le ts withdraw into the bowre .
ACT II. SCENE VIII . John . Scarlet . Scathlock . George . Alken . Jo. Rare sport I sweare ! this hunting of the Witch Will make us . Scar. Let 's advise upon 't , like huntsmen . Geo. And wee can spie her once , shee is our owne . Sca. First , think which way shee fourmeth , on what wind : Or North , or South . Geo. For , as the Shep'ard said , A Witch is a kind of Hare . Scat. And markes the weather , As the hare does . Jo. Where shall wee hope to find her ? Alken returnes . Alk. I have ask'd leave to assist you , jollie huntsmen , If an old Shep'herd may be heard among you ; Not jear'd or laugh'd at . Jo. Father , you will see Robin-hoods house-hold , know more Curtesie . Scat. Who scornes at eld , peeles of his owne young haires . Alk. Yee say right well . Know yee the Witches Dell ? Scar. No more then I do know the walkes of Hell . Alk. Within a gloomie dimble , shee doth dwell Downe in a pitt , ore-growne with brakes and briars . Close by the ruines of a shaken Abbey Torne , with an Earth-quake , down unto the ground , 'Mongst graves , and grotts , neare an old Charnell house , Where you shall find her sitting in her fourme , As fearfull , and melancholique , as that Shee is about ; with Caterpillers kells , And knottie Cobwebs , rounded in with spells ; Thence shee steales forth to releif , in the foggs , And rotten Mistes , upon the fens , and boggs , Downe to the drowned Lands of Lincolneshire ; To make Ewes cast their Lambs ! Swine eate their Farrow ! The House-wifes Tun not worke ! Nor the Milk churne ! Writhe Childrens wrists ! and suck their breath in sleepe ! Get Vialls of their blood ! And where the Sea Casts up his slimie Owze , search for a weed To open locks with , and to rivet Charmes , Planted about her , in the wicked feat , Of all her mischiefes , which are manifold . Jo. I wonder such a storie could be told , Of her dire deeds . Geo. I thought a Witches bankes Had inclos'd nothing , but the merrie prankes Of some old woman . Skar . Yes , her malice more ! Sca. As it would quickly appeare , had wee the Store Of his Collects . Geo. I , this gud learned Man Can speake her right . Skar . He knowes , her shifts , and haunts ! Alk. And all her wiles , and turnes . The venom'd Plants Wherewith shee kill 's ! where the sad Mandrake growes , Whose grones are deathfull ! the dead-numming Night-shade ! The stupifying Hemlock ! Adders tongue ! And Martagan ! the shreikes of lucklesse Owles , Wee heare ! and croaking Night-Crowes in the aire ! Greene-bellied Snakes ! blew fire-drakes in the skie ! And giddie Flitter-mice , with lether wings ! The scalie Beetles , with their habergeons , That make a humming Murmur as they flie ! There , in the stocks of trees , white Faies doe dwell , And span-long Elves , that dance about a poole ! With each a little Changeling , in their armes ! The airie spirits play with falling starres ! And mount the Sphere of fire , to kisse the Moone ! While , shee fitts reading by the Glow-wormes light , Or rotten wood ( o're which the worme hath crept ) The banefull scedule of her nocent charmes , And binding Characters , through which shee wounds Her Puppetts , the Sigilla of her witch-craft . All this I know , and I will find her for you ; And shew you'her sitting in her fourme ; I 'le lay My hand upon her ; make her throw her skutt Along her back , when shee doth start before us . But you must give her Law : and you shall see her Make twentie leapes , and doubles ; crosse the pathes , And then squatt downe beside us . Jo. Craftie Croane ! I long to be at the sport , and to report it . Scar. Wee 'll make this hunting of the Witch , as famous , As any other blast of Venerie . Scat. Hang her foule hagge , shee 'll be a stinking Chase ! I had rather ha' the hunting of heir heyre . Geo. If wee could come to see her , cry , so haw , once ! Alk. That I doe promise , or I 'am no good Hag-finder .
The Argument of the third ACT.

PUck-hairy discovers himselfe in the Forrest , and discourseth his offices with their necessities , breifly ; After which , Douce , entring in the habit of Earine , is pursued by Karol ; who mistaking her at first to be his Sister , questions her , how shee came by those garments . Shee answers , by her mothers gift . The sad Shepherd comming in the while , shee runs away affrighted , and leaves Karol , sodainely ; Aeglamour thinking it to be Earines ghost he saw , falls into a melancholique expression of his phantsie to Karol , & questions him sadly about that point , which moves compassion in Karol of his mistake still . When Clarion , and Lionell enter to call Karol to Amie ; Karol reports to them Aeglamours passion , with much regreet . Clarion resolves to seeke him . Karol to returne with Lionell . By the way Douce , and her Mother ( in the shape of Marian ) meet them , and would divert them , affirming Amie to be recovered , which Lionell wondred at to be so soone . Robin-hood enters , they tell him the relation of the Witch , thinking her to be Marian ; Robin suspecting her to be Maudlin , lay's hold of her Girdle sodainely , but shee striving to get free , they both run out , and he returnes with the belt broken . Shee following in her owne shape , demaunding it , but at a distance , as fearing to be seiz'd upon againe ; and seeing shee cannot recover it , falls into a rage , and cursing , resolving to trust to her old artes , which shee calls her daughter to assist in . The Shepherds content with this discovery , goe home triumphing , make the relation to Marian. Amie is gladded with the sight of Karol , &c. In the meane time enters Lorel , with purpose to ravish Earine , and calling her forth to that lewd end , he by the hearing of Clarions footing , is staid , and forced to commit her hastily to the tree againe , where Clarion comming by , and hearing a voyce singing , drawes neere unto it , but Aeglamour hearing it also , and knowing it to be Earine's , falls into a superstitious commendation of it , as being an Angells , and in the aire , when Clarion espies a hand put forth from the tree , and makes towards it , leaving Aeglamour to his wild phantsie , who quitteth the place , and Clarion beginning to court the hand , and make love to it , there ariseth amist sodainely , which , darkning all the place , Clarion looseth himselfe , and the tree where Earine is inclosed , lamenting his misfortune , with the unknowne nimphs miserie . The Aire clearing , enters the Witch , with her Son and Daughter , tells them how shee had caused that late darkenesse , to free Lorell from surprisall , and his prey from being reskued from him : bids him looke to her , and lock her up more carefully , and follow her , to assist a work , shee hath in hand , of recovering her lost Girdle ; which shee laments the losse of , with cursings , execrations , wishing confusion to their feast , and meeting : sends her Sonne , and Daughter to gather certaine Simples , for her purpose , and bring them to her Dell. This Puck hearing prevents , & shewes her error still . The Hunts-men having found her footing , follow the tract , and prick after her . Shee getts to her Dell , and takes her Forme . Enter , Alken has spied her sitting with her Spindle , Threds , and Images . They are eager to seize her presently , but Alken perswades them to let her begin her charmes , which they doe . Her Sonne and Daughter come to her , the Hunts-men are afrighted as they see her worke goe forward . And over-hastie to apprehend her , shee escapeth them all , by the helpe and delusions of Puck .

ACT III.
SCENE I. Puck-hairy . THe Feind hath much to doe , that keepes a Schoole ; Or is the Father of a familie ; Or governes but a country Academie : His labours must be great , as are his cares , To watch all turnes , and cast how to prevent 'hem . This Dame of mine here , Maud. growes high in evill , And thinkes shee doe's all , when 't is I , her Divell , That both delude her , and must yet protect her : Shee 's confident in mischeife , and presumes The changing of her shape will still secure her . But that may faile , and diverse hazards meete Of other consequence , which I must looke to . Not let her be surpriz'd on the first catch . I must goe daunce about the Forrest , now , And firke it like a Goblin , till I find her . Then will my service come worth acceptation ; When not expected of her , when the helpe Meetes the necessity , and both doe kisse 'T is call'd the timing of a dutie , this .
ACT III. SCENE II. Karol . Douce , to them Aeglamour . Kar . Sure , you are very like her ! I conceiv'd You had been shee , seeing you run afore mee : For such a suite shee made her 'gainst this Feast ; In all resemblance , or the verie same ; I saw her in it ; had shee liv'd t' enjoy it Shee had been there an acceptable Guest To Marian , and the gentle Robin-hood , Who are the Crowne , and Ghirland of the Wood. Dou. I cannot tell : my Mother gave it mee , And bad mee weare it . Kar . Who , the wise good Woman ? Old Maud. of Pappelwicke ? Dou. Yes , this sullen Man . Aeglamour enters , and Douce goes out . I cannot like him . I must take my leave Aeg. What said shee to you ? Kar . Who ? Aegl . Earine , I saw her talking with you , or her Ghost ; For shee indeed is drown'd in old Trents bottome . Did shee not tell who would ha' pull'd her in ? And had her Maiden-head upon the place ? The rivers brim , the margin of the Flood ? No ground is holie enough , ( you know my meaning ) Lust is committed in Kings Palaces , And yet their Majesties not violated ! No words ! Car. How sad , and wild his thoughts are ! gone ? Aeglamour goes out , but comes in againe . Aeg. But shee , as chaste , as was her name , Earine , Dy'd undeflowr'd ; and now her sweet soule hovers , Here , in the Aire , above us ; and doth haste To get up to the Moone , and Mercury ; And whisper Venus in her Orbe , then spring Up to old Saturne , and come downe by Mars , Consulting Jupiter ; and seate her selfe Just in the midst with Phoebus ; tempring all The jarring Spheeres , and giving to the World Againe , his first and tunefull planetting ! O' what an age will here be of new concords ! Delightfull harmonie ! to rock old Sages , Twice infants , in the Cradle o'Speculation , He goes out againe , but returnes as soone as before . And throw a silence upon all the creatures ! Kar . A Cogitation of the highest rapture ! Aegl . The loudest Seas , and most enraged Windes Shall lose their clangor ; Tempest shall grow hoarse ; Loud Thunder dumbe ; and every speece of storme Laid in the lap of listning Nature , husht ; To heare the changed chime of this eighth spheere ! Take tent , and harken for it , loose it not . Aeglamour departs .
ACT III. SCENE III. Clarion . Lionell . Karol . Cla. O' , here is Karol ! was not that the sad Shep'erd , slip'd from him ? Lio. Yes , I ghesse it was : Who was that left you , Karol ? Kar . The last man ! Whom , wee shall never see himselfe againe ; Or ours , I feare ! He starts away from hand , so , And all the touches , or soft stroke of reason ! Yee can applie . No Colt is so unbroken ! Or hawke yet halfe so haggard , or unmann'd ! He takes all toies that his wild phantsy proffers , And flies away with them . He now conceives That my lost Sister , his Earine , Is lately turn'd a Sphere amid the seven : And reades a Musique-Lecture to the Planets ! And with this thought , hee 's run to cal 'hem , Hearers ▪ Cla. Alas , this is a strayn'd , but innocent phant'sie ! I le follow him , and find him , if I can : Meane time , goe you with Lionell , sweet Karol , Hee will acquaint you with an accident Which much desires your presence , on the place !
ACT III. SCENE IV. Karol . Lionell . Kar . What is it , Lionell , wherein I may serve you ? Why doe you so survey , and circumscribe mee ? As if you stuck one Eye into my brest , And with the other took my whole dimensions ? Lio. I wish you had a windo ' i' your bosome Or ' i your back : I might look thorough you , And see your in-parts , Karol , liver , heart ; For there the seat of Love is . Whence the Boy ( The winged Archer ) hath shott home a shaft Into my sisters brest , the innocent Amie , Who now cries out , upon her bed , on Karol , Sweet singing Karol ! the delicious Karol ! That kist her like a Cupid ! In your eyes , Shee saies , his stand is ! and between your lipp's He runs forth his divisions , to her eares , But will not bide there , lesse your selfe do bring him Goe with me Karol , and bestow a visit In charitie , upon the afflicted Maid , Who pineth with the languor of your love . Mar. Whither intend you ? Amy is recover'd , To them Maud and Douce , but Maud appearing like Marian . Feeles no such griefe as shee complain'd of , lately : This Maiden hath been with her from her Mother Maudlin , the cunning Woman , who hath sent her Herbes for her head , and Simples of that nature , Have wrought upon her a miraculous Cure ; Setled her braine , to all our wish , and wonder ! Lio. So instantly ? you know , I now but left her . Possess'd with such a fit , almost to 'a phrensie ; Your selfe too fear'd her , Marian ; and did urge My haste , to seeke out Karol , and to bring him . Mar. I did so . But the skill of that wise woeman And her great charitie of doeing good Hath by the readie hand of this deft lasse Her daughter , wrought effects , beyond beleife , And to astonishment ; wee can but thanke And praise , and be amazed , while wee tell it . They go● out . Lio. 'T is strange , that any art should so helpe nature In her extremes . Kar . Then , it appeares most reall When th' other is deficient . Rob. Wherefore , Enter Robin-hood stay you Discoursing here , and haste not with your succours To poore afflicted Amie , that so needes them ? Lio. Shee is recover'd well , your Marian told us But now here : See , shee is return'd t' affirme it ! Enter Maudl : like Marian. Maudl : espying Robin-hood would run out , but he staies her by the Girdle , and runs in with her . He returnes with the Girdle broken , and shee in her owne shape . Rob. My Marian ? Mar. Robin-hood ? Is hee here ? Rob. Stay ! What was 't you ha' told my friend ? Mar. Helpe , murder , helpe . You will not rob me Out-law ? Theife , restore My belt that yee have broken ! Rob. Yes , come neere , Mau. Not i' your gripe . Rob. Was this the charmed circle ? The Copy that so couzen'd , and deceiv'd us ? I 'le carry hence the trophie of your spoiles . My men shall hunt you too upon the start , And course you soundly . Mau. I shall make 'hem sport And send some home , without their leggs , or armes . I 'le teach 'hem to climbe Stiles , leape Ditches , Ponds , And lie i' the Waters , if they follow mee . Rob. Out murmuring Hagge . Mau. I must use all my powers , Lay all my witts to piecing of this losse . Things run unluckily , Where 's my Puck-hairy ?
ACT III. SCENE V. Maud. Puck . Hath he forsooke mee ? Puc . At your beck , Madame . Mau. O Puck , my Goblin ! I have lost my belt , The strong theife , Robin Out-law , forc'd it from mee . Puck . They are other Cloudes and blacker threat you , Dame ; You must be wary , and pull in your sailes , And yeeld unto the wether of the tempest . You thinke your power 's infinite as your malice ; And would do all your anger prompts you to : But you must wait occasions , and obey them : Saile in an egg-shell , make a straw your mast , A Cobweb all your Cloth , and passe , unseen , Till you have scap'd the rockes that are about you . Mau. What rock's about mee ? Puc . I do love , Madam , To shew you all your dangers , when you are past 'hem . Come , follow mee , I 'll once more be your pilot , And you shall thanke mee . Mau. Lucky , my lov'd Goblin ! Where are you gaang , now ? Lor. Unto my tree , Lorel meetes her . To see my Maistres . Mau. Gang thy gait , and try Thy turnes , with better luck , or hang thy sel' .
The End .

HORACE , HIS ART OF POETRIE .

MADE ENGLISH BY BEN. IOHNSON .

Printed M.DC.XL .

HORATIUS DE ARTE POETICA . HUmano capiti cervicem pictor equinam Jungere si velit , & varias ináucere plumas , Undique collatis membris , ut turpitèr atrum Desinat in piscem mulier formosa supernè ; Spectatum admissi risum teneatis , amici ? Credite , Pisones , isti tabulae forelibrum Persimilem ; cujus , velut aegri somnia , vanae Fingentur species , ut nec pes , nec caput , uni Reddatur formae . Pictoribus , atque Poêtis , Quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas . Scimus ; & hanc veniam petimusque , damusque vicissim : Sed non ut placidis coëant immitia , non ut Serpentes avibus geminentur , tigribus agni . Incoeptis gravibus plerunque & magna professis , Purpureus latè qui splendeat unus & alter Assuitur pannus , cùm lucus , & ara Dianae , Et proper antis aquae per amoenos ambitus agros , Aut flumen Rhenum , aut pluvius describitur arcus . Sed nunc non erat his locus : & , fortasse , cupressum Scis simulare . quid hoc , si fractis enatat exspes Navibus , aere dato qui pingitur ? amphora coepit Institui ; currente rotâ , cur urceus exit ? Denique sit , quod vis , simplex duntaxat , & unum . Maxima pars vatum , pater , & juvenes patre digni , Decipimur specierecti : Brevis esse laboro , Obscurus fio : Sectantem levia , nervi Deficiunt animique : professus grandra , turget : Serpit humi , tutus nimium , timidusque procellae . Qui variare cupit rem prodigialiter unam , Delphinum silvis appingit , fluctibus aprum . In vitium ducit culpae fuga , si caret arte . Aemilium circa ludum faber imus , & ungucis Exprimet , & molleis imitabitur are capillos ; Infoelix operis summa : quia ponere totum Nesciet . Hunc ego me , si quid componere curem , Non magis esse velim , quàm pravo vivere naso , Spectandum nigris oculis , nigroque capillo . Sumite materiam vestris , qui scribitis , aequam Viribus , & versate diù , quid ferre recusent , Quid valeant humeri . cui lecta potenter erit res , Nec facundia deserit hunc , nec lucidus ordo . Ordinis haec virtus erit , & Venus , aut ego fallor , Ut jam nunc dicat , jam nunc debentia dici Pleraque differat : & praesens in tempus omittat . Hoc amet , hoc spernat promissi carminis autor . In verbis etiam tenuis cautusque serendis , Dixeris egregiè , notum si callida verbum Reddiderit junctura novum . Si fortè necesse est , Indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum ; Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis Continget , dabiturque licentia , sumpta pudentèr . Et nova fictaque nupèr habebunt verba fidem , si Graeco fonte cadant , parcè detorta . Quid autem Caecilio , Plautoque dabit Romanus , ademptum Virgilio , Varioque ? ego cur acquirere pauca Si possum , invideor : cùm lingua Catonis , & Enni Sermonem patrium ditaverit ; & nova rerum Nomina protulerit ? Licuit , semperque licebit , Signatum praesente notâ producere nomen . Ut silvae foliis pronos mutantur in annos , Prima cadunt ; ità verborum vetus interit aetas , Et juvenum ritu florent modò nata , vigentque . Debemur morti nos , nostraque : sive receptus Terrâ Neptunus , classes Aquilonibus arcet , Regis opus , sterilisve diù palus , aptaque remis , Vicinas urbes alit , & grave sentit aratrum : Seu cursum mutavit iniquum frugibus amnis ; Doctus iter melius . Mortalia facta peribunt : Nedum sermonum stet honos , & gratia vivax . Multa renascentur , quae jam cecidêre , cadentque , Quae nunc sunt in honore , vocabula , si volet usus ; Quem penes arbitrium est , & vis , & norma loquendi . Res gestae regumque , ducumque , & tristia bella Quo scribi possent numero , monstravit Homerus . Versibus impariter junctis querimonia primum , Post etiàm inclusa est voti sententia compos . Quis tamen exiguos elegos emiserit author , Grammatici certant , & adhuc sub judice lis est . Musa dedit fidibus Divos puerosque Deorum , Et pugilem victorem , & equum certamine primum , Et juvenum curas , & libera vina referre . Archilochum proprio rabies armavit Iambo . Hunc socci cepêre pedem , grandesque cothurni , Alternis aptum sermonibus , & populares Vincentem strepitus , & natum rebus agendis . Versibus exponi Tragicis res Comica non vult . Indignatur item privatis , ac propè socco Dignis carminibus celebrari coena Thyestae . Singula quaeque locum teneant sortita decenter . Descriptas servare vices operumque colores , Cur ego , si nequeo , ignoroque , Poêta salutor ? Cur nescire pudens pravè , quàm discere malo ? Interdùm tamen , & vocem Comoedia tollit , Iratusque Chremes tumido delitigat ore , Et Tragicus plerumque dolet sermone pedestri Telephus , & Peleus , cùm pauper , & exul uterque , Projicit ampullas , & sesquipedalia verba , Si curat cor spectantis tetigisse querelâ . Non satis est pulchra esse poëmata : dulcia sunto , Et quocunque volent animum auditoris agunto . Ut ridentibus arrident , ita flentibus adflent Humani vultus . Si vis me flere , dolendum est Primùm ipsi tibi : tunc tua me infortunia laedent Telephe , vel Pelu . Malè si mandata loqueris , Aut dormitabo , aut ridebo . Tristia moestum Vultum verba decent : iratum , plena minarum : Ludentem , lasciva : severum , seria dictu . Format enim natura priùs nos intùs ad omnem Fortunarum habitum : iuvat , aut impellit ad iram , Aut ad humum moerore gravi deducit , & angit : Post effert animi motus interprete linguâ . Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta , Romani tollent equites peditesque cachinnum . Intererit multùm , Davus ne loquatur , an heros : Maturusne senex , an adhuc florente juventâ Fervidus : an matrona potens , an sedula nutrix : Mercatorne vagus , cultorne virentis agelli : Colchus , an Assyrius : Thebis nutritus , and Argis . Aut famam sequere , aut sibi convenientia finge Scriptor . Honoratum si fortè reponis Achillem , Impiger , iracundus , inexorabilis , acer , Jura neget sibi nata , nihil non arroget armis . Sit Medea ferox , invictaque ; flebilis Ino , Perfidus Ixion , Io vaga , tristis Orestes . Si quid inexpertum scenae committis , & audes , Personam formare novam ; servetur ad imum Qualis ad incoepto pro cesserit , & sibi constet . Difficile est propriè communia dicere ; tuque Rectiùs Iliacum carmen deducis in actus , Quàm si proferres ignota , indictaque primus . Publica materies privati juris erit ; si Nec circa vilem , patulumque moraberis orbem : Nec verbum verbo curabis reddere fidus Interpres : nec desilies imitator in arctum , Unde pedem proferre pudor vetet , aut operis lex . Nec sic incipies , ut scriptor Cyclicus olim : Fortunam Priami cantabo , & nobile bellum . Quid dignum tanto feret hic promissor hiatu ? Parturient montes , nascetur ridiculus mus . Quantò rectiùs hic , qui nil molitur ineptè : Dic mihi Musa virum , captae post tempora Trojae , Qui mores hominum multorum vidit , & urbeis . Non fumum ex fulgore , sed ex fumo dare lucem Cogitat , ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat , Antiphaten , Scyllamque , & cum Cyclope Charybdim : Nec gemino bellum Trojanum orditur ab ovo . Semper ad eventum festinat , & in medias res , Non secus ac notas , auditorem rapit : & quae Desperat tractata nitescere posse , relinquit . Atque ita mentitur , sic veris falsa remiscet , Primo ne medium , medio ne discrepet imum . Tu quid ego , & populus mecum desideret , audi . Si plausoris eges aulaea manentis , & usque Sessuri , donec cantor , Vos plaudite , dicat , Aetatis cujusque notandi sunt tibi mores , Mobilibusque decor naturis dandus , & annis . Reddere qui voces jam scit puer , & pede certo Signat humum , gestit paribus colludere , & iram Colligit , ac ponit temerè , & mutatur in horas . Imberbis juvenis tandem custode remoto , Gaudet equis , canibusque , & aprici gramine campi , Cereus in vitium flecti , monitoribus asper , Utilium tardus provisor , prodigus aeris , Sublimis , cupidusque , & amata relinquere pernix . Conversis studiis aetas , animusque virilis Quaerit opes , & amicitias : inservit honori : Commisisse cavet , quod mox mutare laboret . Multa senem circumveniunt incommoda , vel quòd Quaerit , & inventis miser abstinet , ac timet uti : Vel quòd res omneis timidè gelideque ministrat ; Dilator , spe longus , iners , avidusque futuri , Difficilis , querulus , laudater temporis acti Se puero : censor , castigatorque minorum . Multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum : Multa recedentes adimunt . ne fortè seniles Mandentur juveni partes , pueroque viriles , Semper in adjunctis , aevoque morabimur aptis . Aut agitur res in scenis , aut acta refertur . Segniùs irritant animos demissa per aurem , Quàm quae sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus , & qua Ipse sibi tradit spectator . non tamen intus Digna geri , promes in scenam : multaque tolles Ex oculis , quae mox narret facundia praesens . Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet : Aut humana palàm coquat exta nefarius Atreus : Aut in avem Progne vertatur , Cadmus in anguem . Quodcunque ostendit mihi sic , incredulus odi . Nève minor , quinto , neu sit productior actu Fabula quae posci vult , & spectata reponi . Nec Deus inter sit , nisi dignus vindice nodus Inciderit : nec quart a loqui personalaboret . Autoris parteis chorus , officiumque virile Defendat , neu quid medios intercinat actus Quod non proposito conducat , & haereat aptè . Ille bonis faveatque , & concilietur amicè . Et regatiratos , & amet peccare timenteis . Ille dapeis laudet mensae brevis : ille salubrem Justitiam , legesque , & apertis otia portis . Ille tegat commissa , Deosque precetur , & oret , Ut redeat miseris , abeat fortuna superbis . Tibia non , ut nunc , orichalco vincta , tubaeque Aemula , sed tenuis , simplex foramine pauco Aspirare , & adesse choris erat utilis , atque Nondùm spissa nimis complere sedilia flatu . Quò sanè populus numerabilis , utpote parvus , Et frugi , castusque verecundusque coibat . Postquam coepit agros extendere victor , & urbent Latior amplecti murus , Vinoque diurno , Placari Genius festis impunè diebus , Accessit numerisque modisque licentia major . Indoctus quid enim saperet , liberque laborum , Rusticus urbano confusus , turpis honesto ? Sic priscae motumque , & luxuriam addidit arti Tibicen , traxitque vagus per pulpita vestem . Sic etiam fidibus voces crevere severis , Et tulit eloquium insolitum facundia praeceps : Utiliumque sagax rerum , & divina futuri Sortilegis non discrepuit sententia Delphis . Ignotum Tragicae genus invenisse Camoenae Dicitur , & plaustris vexisse poëmata Thespis , Quae canerent agerentque peruncti faecibus ora . Post hunc personae pallaeque repertor honestae Aeschylus , & modicis instravit pulpita tignis , Et docuit magnumque loqui nitique cothurno . Carmine qui Tragico vilem certavit ob hircum , Mox etiam agresteis Satyros nudavit , & asper Incolumi gravitate jocum tentavit : eò quòd Illecebris erat , & gratâ novitate morandus Spectator , functusque sacris , & potus , & exlex . Verùm ita risores , ita commendare dicaces Conveniet Satyros , ità vertere seria ludo : Ne , quicunque Deus , quicunque adhibebitur Heros , Regali conspectus in auro nuper , & ostro , Migret in obscuras humili sermone tabernas ; Aut , dum vitat humum , nubeis , & inania captet . Effutire leveis indigna Tragoedia versus : Ut festis matrona moveri jussa diebus , Intererit Satyris paulum pudibunda protervis . Non ego inornata , & dominantia nomina solum , Verbaque Pisones , Satyrorum scriptor amabo : Nec sic enitar Tragico differre colori Ut nihil intersit , Davus ne loquatur , an audax Pythias emuncto lucrata Simone talentum ; An custos , fumulusque dei Silenus alumni . Ex noto fictum carmen sequar , ut sibi quivis Speret idem : sudet multùm frustraque laboret Ausus idem : tantum series juncturaque pollet : Tantum de medio sumptis accedit honoris . Silvis deducti caveant , me judice , Fauni , Ne velut innati triviis , ac penè forenses , Aut nimium teneris juvenentur versibus unquam , Aut immunda crepent , ignominiosaque dicta . Offenduntur enim , quibus est equus , & pater , & res : Nec , si quid fricti ciceris probat , & nucis emptor , Aequis accipiunt animis , donant've corona . Successit vetus his Comoedia non sine multâ Laude , sed in vitium libertas excidit , & vim Dignam lege regi . Lex est accepta , chorusque Turpiter obticuit , sublato jure nocendi . Syllaba longa brevi subjecta , vocatur Iambus Pes citus : unde etiam trimetris accrescere jussit Nomen Iambeis , cum senos redderet ictus , Primus ad extremum similis sibi : non ita pridem Tardior ut paulo graviorque veniret ad aureis , Spondeos stabiles in jura paterna recepit Commodus , & patiens : non ut de sede secunda Cederet , aut quarta socialiter . hic & in Acci Nobilibus trimetris apparet rarus : & Enni . In scenam missos magno cum pondere versus , Aut operae celeris nimium , curaque carentis , Aut ignoratae premit artis crimine turpi : Non quivis videt immodulata poëmata judex . Et data Romanis venia est indigna poëtis , Idcircône vager , scribamque licenter ? an omneis Visuros peccata putem mea ? tutus , & intra Spem veniae cautus ? vitavi denique culpam , Non laudem merui . Vos exemplaria Graeca Nocturnâ versate manu , versate diurnâ . At nostri proavi Plautinos , & numeros , & Laudavere saleis : nimium patienter utrunque , Ne dicam stultè , mirati ; si modò ego , & vos Scimus inurbanum lepido seponere dicto , Legitimumque sonum digitis callemus , & aure . Nil intentatum nostri liquere poêtae , Nec minimum meruêre decus , vestigia Graeca Ausi deserere , & celebrare domestica facta : Vel qui Praetextas , vel qui docuêre Togatas . Nec vertute foret , clarisve potentius armis , Quàm linguâ , Latiam , si non offender et unum - Quemque poëtarum limae labor , & mora . Vos ò Pompilius sanguis carmen reprehendite , quod not Multa dies , & multa litura coërcuit , atque Perfectum decies non castigavit ad unguem . Ingenium misera quia fortunatius arte Credit , & excludit sanos Helicone poëtas Democritus , bona pars non ungueis ponere curat , Non barbam , secreta petit loca , balnea vitat . Nanciscetur enim pretium , nomenque poetae , Si tribus Anticyris caput insanabile nunquam Tonsori Lycino commiserit . O ego laevus , Qui purgor bilem sub verni temporis horam . Non alius faceret meliora poëmata . verùm , Nil tanti est : ergo fungar vice cotis , acutum Reddere quae ferrum valet , exors ipsa secandi . Munus & officium nil scribens ipse docebo ; Unde parentur opes : quid alat formetque Poëtam : Quid deceat , quid non : quò virtus , quò ferat error . Scribendi rectè , sapere , est & principium & fons . Rem tibi Socraticae poterunt ostendere chartae : Verbaque provisam rem non invita sequentur . Qui didicit , patriae quid debeat , & quid amicis : Quo sit amore parens , quo frater amandus , & hospes : Quod sit conscripti , quod judicis officium : quae Partes in bellum missi ducis : ille profectò Reddere personae scit convenientia cuique . Respicere exemplar vitae , morumque jubebo Doctum imitatorem , & veras hinc ducere voces . Interdum speciosalocis , morataque rectè Fabula , nullius Veneris , sine pondere , & arte , Valdius oblectat populum , meliusque moratur , Quàm versus inopes rerum , nugaeque canorae . Graiis ingenium , Graiis dedit ore rotundo Musa loqui , praeter laudem , nullius avaris . Romani pueri longis rationibus assem Discunt in parteis centum diducere . Dicat Filius Albini , Si de quincunce remota est Uncia , quid superat ? poter as dixisse triens . eu , Rem poteris servare tuam . redit uncia : quid fit ? Semis . ad haec animos aerugo , & cura peculi , Cum semel imbuer it , speramus carmina fingi Posse linenda cedro , & levi servanda cupresso ? Aut prodesse volunt , aut delectare Poëtae , Aut simul & jucunda , & idonea dicere vitae . Silvestres homines sacer , interpresque Deorum . Caedibus & victu foedo deterruit Orpheus , Dictus ob hoc lenire tigres , rapidosque leones : Dictus & Amphion Thebanae conditor arcis Saxo movere sono testudinis , & prece blanda Ducere quo vellet . Fuit haec sapientia quondam , Publica privatis secernere , sacra profanis , Concubitu prohibere vago : dare jura maritis , Oppida moliri , leges incidere ligno . Sic honor , & nomen divinis vatibus , atque Carminibus venit . post hos insignis Homerus , Tyrtaeusque mares animos in tristia bella Versibus exacuit . dictae per carmina sortes , Et vitae monstrata via est , & gratia regum Pieriis tentata modis , ludusque repertus , Et longorum operum finis . ne fortè pudori Sit tibi Musa lyrae solers , & cantor Apollo . Quicquid praecipies esto brevis : ut citò dicta Percipiant animi dociles , teneantque fideles . Omne supervacuum pleno de pectore manat . Ficta , voluptatis causâ , sint proxima veris. Nec quodcunque volet , poscat sibi fabula credi : Neu pransae Lamiae vivum puerum extrahat alvo . Centuriae seniorum agitant expertia frugis : Celsi praetereunt austera poëmata Rhamnes . Omne tulit punctum , qui miscuit utile dulci , Lectorem delectando , pariterque monendo . Hic meret aera liber Sosiis : hic & mare transit , Et longum noto scriptori prorogat aevum . Sunt delicta tamen quibus ignovisse velimus . Nam neque chorda sonum reddit , quem vult manus & mens , Poscentique gravem , persaepe remittit acutum : Nec semper feriet , quodcunque minabitur arcus . Verùm ubi plura nitent incarmine , non ego paucis Offendar maculis , quas aut incuria fudit , Aut humana parum cavit natura . quid ergo ? Ut scriptor si peccat idem librarius usque Quamvis est monitus , venia caret & citharoedus Ridetur , chorda qui semper oberrat eadem : Sic mihi , qui multum cessat , fit Cherilus ille , Quem bis terque bonum cum risu miror ; & idem Indignor . quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus . Verùm opere in longo fas est obrepere somnum . Ut pictura , poësis erit : quae , si proprius stes , Te capiet magis , & quaedam , si longius abstes . Haec amat obscurum : volet haec sub luce videri , Judicis argutum quae non formidat acumen . Haec placuit semel : haec decies repetita placebit . O major juvenum , quamvis & voce paterna Fingeris ad rectum , & per te sapis , hoc tibi dictum Tolle memor : certis medium , & tolerabile rebus Rectè concedi . consultus juris , & actor Causarum mediocris , abest virtute diserti Messalae , nec scit quantum Cacellius Aulus : Sed tamen in pretio est . Mediocribus esse poëtis Non homines , non Dii , non concessere columnae . Ut gratas inter mensas symphonia discors , Et crassum unguentum , & Sardo cum melle papaver , Offendunt ; poterat duci quia coena sinc istis : Sic animis natum inventumque poëma juvandis , Si paulum summo discessit , vergit ad imum . Ludere qui nescit , campestribus abstinet armis , Indoctusque pilae , discive , trochive , quiescit , Ne spissae risum tollant impune coronae . Qui nescit , versus tamen audet fingere : quid ni ? Liber , & ingenius , praesertim census equestrem Summam nummorum , vitioque remotus ab omni . Tu nihil invitâ dices , faciesque Minervâ . Id tibi judicium est , ea mens , si quid tamen olim Scripseris , in Metii descendat judicis aures , Et patris , & nostras , nonumque prematur in annum . Membranis intus positis delere licebit , Quod non aedideris , Nescit vox missa reverti . Naturâ fieret laudabile carmen , an arte , Quaesitum est ego nec studium sine divite vena , Necrude quid profit video ingenium ; alterius sic Altera poscit opem res , & conjurat amicè . Qui studet aptatam cursu contingere metam Multa tulit fecitque puer : sudavit , & alsit , Abstinuit Venere , & vino . qui Pythica cantat Tibicen , didicit priùs , extimuitque magistrum . Nunc satis est dixisse , Ego mira Poëmata pango : Occupet extremum scabies , mihi turpe relinqui est , Et quod non didici , sanè nescire fateri . Ut proeco ad merces turbam qui cogit emendas , Assentatores jubet ad lucrum ire Poëta Dives agris , dives positis in foenore nummis . Si verò est , unctum qui rectè ponere possit , Et spondere levi pro paupere , & eripere atris Litibus implicitum ; mirabor , si sciet inter - Noscere mendacem verumque beatus amicum . Tu seu donaris , seu quid donare voles cui , Nolito ad versus tibi factos ducere plenum Laetitiae . clamabit enim , Pulchrè , benè , rectè : Pallescit super his : etiam stillabit amicis Ex oculis rorem , saliet , tundet pede terram . Ut qui conducti plorant in funere , dicunt , Et faciunt propè plura dolentibus ex animo : sic Derisor vero plus laudatore movetur . Reges dicuntur multis urgere culullis , Et torquere mero , quem perspexisse laborant , An sit amicitiâ dignus . si carmina condes , Nunquam te fallant animi sub vulpe latentes . Quintilio , si quid recitares , corrige , sodes , Hoc aiebat , & hoc . meliùs te posse negares , Bis , terque expertum frustra ; delere jubebat , Et malè tornatos incudi reddere versus . Si defendere delictum , quâm vertere malles , Nulla ultra verbum , aut operam sumebat inanem , Quin sine rivali teque & tua solus amares . Vir bonus & prudens , versus reprehendit inertcis , Culpabit duros , incomptis allinet atrum Transverso calamo signum , ambitiosa recidet Ornamenta , parum claris lucem dare coget : Arguet ambiguè dictum , mutanda notabit : Fiet Aristarchus , nec dicet , Cur ego amicum Offendam in nugis ? hae nugae seria ducent In mala , semel derisum , exceptumque sinistrè . Ut mala quam scabies , aut morbus regius urget , Aut fanaticus error , & iracunda Diana , Vesanum tetigisse timent fugiuntque Poetam Qui sapiunt : agitant pueri , incautique sequuntur . Hic , dum sublimeis versus ructatur , & errat , Si veluti merulis intentus decidit auceps In puteum , foveámve , licet succurrite longum Clamet Iò cives , non sit qui tollere curet . Si quis curet opem ferre , & demittere funem , Quî scis , an prudens huc se dejecerit , atque Servari nolit ? dicam , Siculique Poetae Narrabo interitum . Deus immortalis haberi Dum cupit Empedocles , ardentem frigidus Aetnam Insiluit . Sit jus , liceatque perire Poetis . Invitum qui servat , idem facit occidenti . Nec semel hoc fecit : nec si retractus erit , jam Fiet homo : & ponet famosae mortis amorem . Nec satis apparet , cur versus factitet : utrum Minxerit in patrios cineres , an triste bidental Moverit incestus : certè furit , as , velut ursus , Objectos caveae valuit si frangere clathros Indoctum , doctumque fugat recitator acerbus . Quem verò arripuit , tenet , occiditque legendo , Non missura cuten● nisi plena cruoris hirude . FINIS .
HORACE , OF THE ART OF POETRIE . IF to a Womans head a Painter would Set a Horse-neck , and divers feathers fold On every limbe , ta'en from a severall creature , Presenting upwards , a faire female feature , Which in some swarthie fish uncomely ends : Admitted to the sight , although his friends Could you containe your laughter ? Credit mee , This peece , my Piso's , and that booke agree , Whose shapes , like sick-mens dreames , are fain'd so vaine , As neither head , nor foot , one forme retaine . But equall power , to Painter , and to Poët , Of daring all , hath still beene given ; we know it : And both doe crave , and give againe , this leave . Yet , not as therefore wild , and tame should cleave Together : not that we should Serpents see With Doves ; or Lambes , with Tygres coupled be . In grave beginnings , and great things profest , Ye have oft-times , that may ore-shine the rest , A Scarlet peece , or two , stitch'd in : when or Diana's Grove , or Altar , with the bor - Dring Circles of swift waters that intwine The pleasant grounds , or when the River Rhine , Or Rainbow is describ'd . But here was now No place for these . And , Painter , hap'ly , thou Know'st only well to paint a Cipresse tree . What 's this ? if he whose money hireth thee To paint him , hath by swimming hopelesse scap'd , The whole fleet wreck'd ? a great jarre to be shap'd , Was meant at first . Why forcing still about Thy labouring wheele , comes scarce a Pitcher out . In short ; I bid , Let what thou work'st upon , Be simply quite throughout , and wholly one . Most Writers , noble Sire , and either Sonne , Are , with the likenesse of the truth , undone . My selfe for shortnesse labour ; and I grow Obscure . This striving to run smooth , and slow , Hath neither soule , nor sinewes . Loftie he Professing greatnesse , swells : That low by lee Creepes on the ground ; too safe , too afraid of storme . This seeking , in a various kind , to forme One thing , prodigiously , paints in the woods A Dolphin , and a Boare amid ' the floods . So , shunning faults , to greater fault doth lead , When in a wrong , and artlesse way we tread . The worst of Statuaries , here about Th' Aemilian Schoole , in brasse can fashion out The nailes ; and every curled haire disclose , But in the maine worke haplesse : since he knowes Not to designe the whole . Should I aspire To forme a worke , I would no more desire To be that Smith ; then live , mark'd one of those , With faire black eyes , and haire ; and a wry nose . Take , therefore , you that write , still , matter fit Unto your strength , and long examine it , Upon your Shoulders . Prove what they will beare , And what they will not . Him whose choice doth reare His matter to his power , in all he makes , Nor language , nor cleere order ere forsakes . The vertue of which order , and true grace , Or I am much deceiv'd , shall be to place Invention . Now , to speake ; and then differ Much , that mought now be spoke : omitted here Till fitter season . Now , to like of this ; Lay that aside , the Epicks office is . In using also of new words , to be Right spare , and warie : then thou speak'st to mee Most worthie praise , when words that common grew , Are , by thy cunning placing , made meere new . Yet , if by chance , in utt'ring things abstruse , Thou need new termes ; thou maist , without excuse , Faine words , unheard of to the well-truss'd race Of the Cethegi ; And all men will grace , And give , being taken modestly , this leave , And those thy new , and late-coyn'd words receive , So they fall gently from the Grecian spring , And come not too much wrested . What 's that thing , A Roman to Caecilius will allow , Or Plautus , and in Virgil disavow , Or Varius ? why am I now envi'd so , If I can give some small increase ? When , loe , Cato's and Ennius tongues have lent much worth , And wealth unto our language ; and brought forth New names of things . It hath beene ever free , And ever will , to utter termes that bee Stamp'd to the time . As woods whose change appeares Still in their leaves , throughout the sliding yeares , The first-borne dying ; so the aged state Of words decay , and phrases borne but late Like tender buds shoot up , and freshly grow . Our selves , and all that 's ours , to death we owe : Whether the Sea receiv'd into the shore , That from the North , the Navie safe doth store , A kingly worke ; or that long barren fen Once rowable , but now doth nourish men In neighbour-townes , and feeles the weightie plough ; Or the wilde river , who hath changed now His course so hurtfull both to graine , and seedes , Being taught a better way . All mortall deeds Shall perish : so farre off it is , the state , Or grace of speech , should hope a lasting date . Much phrase that now is dead , shall be reviv'd ; And much shall dye , that now is nobly liv'd , If Custome please ; at whose disposing will The power , and rule of speaking resteth still . The gests of Kings , great Captaines , and sad Warres , What number best can fit , Homer declares . In Verse unequall match'd , first sowre Laments , After mens Wishes , crown'd in their events Were also clos'd : But , who the man should be , That first sent forth the dapper Elegie , All the Grammarians strive ; and yet in Court Before the Judge , it hangs , and waites report . Unto the Lyrick Strings , the Muse gave grace To chant the Gods , and all their God-like race , The conqu'ring Champion , the prime Horse in course , Fresh Lovers businesse , and the Wines free source . Th' Iambick arm'd Archilochus to rave , This foot the socks tooke up , and buskins grave , As fit t' exchange discourse ; a Verse to win On popular noise with , and doe businesse in . The Comick matter will not be exprest In tragick Verse ; no lesse Thyestes feast Abhorres low numbers , and the private straine Fit for the sock : Each subject should retaine The place allotted it , with decent thewes . If now the turnes , the colours , and right hues Of Poëms here describ'd , I can , nor use , Nor know t' observe : Why ( i' the Muses name ) Am I call'd Poët ? wherefore with wrong shame , Perversly modest , had I rather owe To ignorance still , then either learne , or know . Yet , sometime , doth the Comedie excite Her voyce , and angry Chremes chafes out-right With swelling throat : and , oft the tragick wight Complaines in humble phrase . Both Telephus , And Peleus , if they seeke to heart-strike us That are Spectators , with their miserie , When they are poore , and banish'd , must throw by Their bombard-phrase , and foot-and-halfe-foot words : 'T is not enough , th' elaborate Muse affords Her Poem's beautie , but a sweet delight To worke the hearers minds , still , to their plight . Mens faces , still , with such as laugh , are prone To laughter ; so they grieve with those that mone . If thou would'st have me weepe , be thou first drown'd Thy selfe in teares , then me thy losse will wound , Peleus , or Telephus . If you speake vile And ill-penn'd things , I shall , or sleepe , or smile . Sad language fits sad lookes ; stuff'd menacings , The angry brow ; the sportive , wanton things ; And the severe , speech ever serious . For Nature , first within doth fashion us To every state of fortune ; she helpes on , Or urgeth us to anger ; and anon With weightie sorrow hurles us all along , And tortures us : and , after by the tongue Her truch-man , she reports the minds each throw . If now the phrase of him that speakes , shall flow In sound , quite from his fortune ; both the rout , And Roman Gentrie , jearing , will laugh out . It much will differ , if a God speake , than , Or an Heroe ; If a ripe old man , Or some hot youth , yet in his flourishing course ; Where some great Lady , or her diligent Nourse ; A ventring Merchant , or the Farmer free Of some small thankfull land : whether he bee Of Cholchis borne ; or in Assyria bred ; Or , with the milke of Thebes ; or Argus , fed . Or follow fame , thou that dost write , or faine Things in themselves agreeing : If againe Honour'd Achilles chance by thee be seiz'd , Keepe him still active , angry , un-appeas'd , Sharpe , and contemning lawes , at him should aime , Be nought so 'bove him but his sword let claime . Medea make brave with impetuous scorne ; Ino bewaild ; Ixion false , forsworne ; Poore Jö wandring ; wild Orestes mad : If something strange , that never yet was had Unto the Scene thou bringst , and dar'st create A meere new person . Looke he keepe his state Unto the last , as when he first went forth , Still to be like himselfe , and hold his worth . 'T is hard , to speake things common , properly : And thou maist better bring a Rhapsody Of Homers , forth in acts , then of thine owne , First publish things unspoken , and unknowne . Yet common matter thou thine owne maist make , If thou the vile , broad-troden ring forsake . For , being a Poet , thou maist feigne , create , Not care , as thou wouldst faithfully translate , To render word for word : nor with thy sleight Of imitation , leape into a streight , From whence thy Modestie , or Poëmes law Forbids thee forth againe thy foot to draw . Nor so begin , as did that Circler late , I sing a noble Warre , and Priam's Fate . What doth this Promiser such gaping worth Afford ? The Mountaines travail'd , and brought forth A scorned Mouse ! O , how much better this , Who nought assaies unaptly , or amisse ? Speake to me , Muse , the Man , who after Troy was sack't , Saw many Townes , and Men , and could their manners tract . Hee thinkes not , how to give you smoake from light , But light from smoake ; that he may draw his bright Wonders forth after : As Antiphates , Scylla , Charybdis , Polypheme , with these . Nor from the brand , with which the life did burne Of Meleager , brings he the returne Of Diomede ; nor Troyes sad Warre begins From the two Egges , that did disclose the twins . He ever hastens to the end , and so ( As if he knew it ) rapps his hearer to The middle of his matter : letting goe What he despaires , being handled , might not show . And so well faines , so mixeth cunningly Falshood with truth , as no man can espie Where the midst differs from the first : or where The last doth from the midst dis-joyn'd appeare . Heare , what it is the People , and I desire : If such a ones applause thou dost require , That tarries till the hangings be ta'en downe , And sits , till the Epilogue saies Clap , or Crowne : The customes of each age thou must observe , And give their yeares , and natures , as they swerve , Fit rites . The Child , that now knowes how to say , And can tread firme , longs with like lads to play ; Soone angry , and soone pleas'd , is sweet , or sowre , He knowes not why , and changeth every houre . Th' unbearded Youth , his Guardian once being gone , Loves Dogges , and Horses ; and is ever one I' the open field ; Is Waxe like to be wrought To every vice , as hardly to be brought To endure counsell : A Provider slow For his owne good , a carelesse letter-goe Of money , haughtie , to desire soon mov'd , And then as swift to leave what he hath lov'd . These studies alter now , in one , growne man ; His better'd mind seekes wealth , and friendship : than Lookes after honours , and bewares to act What straight-way he must labour to retract . The old man many evils doe girt round ; Either because he seekes , and , having found , Doth wretchedly the use of things forbeare , Or do's all businesse coldly , and with feare ; A great deferrer , long in hope , growne numbe With sloth , yet greedy still of what 's to come : Froward , complaining , a commender glad Of the times past , when he was a young lad ; And still correcting youth , and censuring . Mans comming yeares much good with them doe bring : At his departing take much thence : lest , then , The parts of age to youth be given ; or men To children ; we must alwayes dwell , and stay In fitting proper adjuncts to each day . The businesse either on the Stage is done , Or acted told . But , ever , things that run In at the eare , doe stirre the mind more slow Then those the faithfull eyes take in by show , And the beholder to himselfe doth render . Yet , to the Stage , at all thou maist not tender Things worthy to be done within , but take Much from the sight , which faire report will make Present anone : Medea must not kill Her Sonnes before the people ; nor the ill ▪ Natur'd , and wicked Atreus Cooke , to th' eye , His Nephews entrailes ; nor must Progue flie Into a Swallow there ; Nor Cadmus take , Upon the Stage , the figure of a Snake . What so is showne , I not beleeve , and hate . Nor must the Fable , that would hope the Fate Once seene , to be againe call'd for , and plaid , Have more or lesse then just five Acts : nor laid , To have a God come in ; except a knot Worth his untying happen there : And not Any fourth man , to speake at all , aspire . An Actors parts , and Office too , the Quire Must maintaine manly ; not be heard to sing Betweene the Acts , a quite cleane other thing Then to the purpose leades , and fitly ' grees . It still must favour good men , and to these Be wonne a friend ; It must both sway , and bend The angry , and love those that fearet' offend . Praise the spare diet , wholsome justice , lawes , Peace , and the open ports , that peace doth cause Hide faults , pray to the Gods , and wish aloud Fortune would love the poore , and leave the proud . The Hau'-boy , not as now with latten bound , And rivall with the Trumpet for his sound , But soft , and simple , at few holes breath'd time And tune too , fitted to the Chorus rime , As loud enough to fill the seates , not yet So over-thick , but , where the people met , They might with ease be numbred , being a few Chaste , thriftie , modest folke , that came to view . But , as they conquer'd , and enlarg'd their bound , That wider Walls embrac'd their Citie round , And they uncensur'd might at Feasts , and Playes Steepe the glad Genius in the Wine , whole dayes , Both in their tunes , the licence greater grew , And in their numbers ; For , alas , what knew The Ideot , keeping holy-day , or drudge , Clowne , Towns-man , base , and noble , mix'd , to judge ? Thus , to his antient Art the Piper lent Gesture , and riot , whilst he swooping went In his train'd Gowne about the Stage : So grew In time to Tragedie , a Musicke new . The rash , and head-long eloquence brought forth Unwonted language ; And that sense of worth That found out profit , and foretold each thing Now differ'd not from Delphick riddling . Thespis is said to be the first found out The Tragedie , and carried it about , Till then unknowne , in Carts , wherein did ride Those that did sing , and act : their faces dy'd With lees of Wine . Next Eschylus , more late Brought in the Visor , and the robe of State , Built a small timbred Stage , and taught them talke Loftie , and grave ; and in the buskin stalke . Hee too , that did in Tragick Verse contend , For the vile Goat , soone after , forth did send The rough rude Satyres naked ; and would try , Though sower , with safetie of his gravitie . How he could jest , because he mark'd and saw The free spectators , subject to no Law , Having well eat , and drunke : the rites being done , Were to be staid with softnesses , and wonne With something that was acceptably new . Yet so the scoffing Satyres to mens view , And so their prating to present was best , And so to turne all earnest into jest , As neither any God , were brought in there , Or Semi-god , that late was seene to weare A royall Crowne , and purple ; be made hop With poore base termes , through every baser shop : Or whilst he shuns the Earth , to catch at Aire And emptie Clowdes . For Tragedie is faire , And farre unworthy to blurt out light rimes ; But , as a Matrone drawne at solemne times To Dance , so she should , shamefac'd , differ farre From what th' obscene , and petulant Satyres are . Nor I , when I write Satyres , will so love Plaine phrase , my Piso's , as alone t' approve Meere raigning words : nor will I labour so Quite from all face of Tragedie to goe , As not make difference , whether Davus speake , And the bold Pythias , having cheated weake Simo ; and , of a talent wip'd his purse ; Or old Silenus , Bacchus guard , and Nurse . I can out of knowne geare , a fable frame , And so , as every man may hope the same ; Yet he that offers at it , may sweat much , And toile in vaine : the excellence is such Of Order , and Connexion ; so much grace There comes sometimes to things of meanest place . But , let the Faunes , drawne from their Groves , beware Be I their Judge , they doe at no time dare Like men street-borne , and neere the Hall , reherse Their youthfull tricks in over-wanton verse : Or crack out bawdie speeches , and uncleane . The Roman Gentrie , Men of Birth , and Meane Will take offence , at this : Nor , though it strike Him that buyes chiches blanch't , or chance to like The nut-crackers throughout , will they therefore Receive , or give it an applause , the more . To these succeeded the old Comoedie , And not without much praise ; till libertie Fell into fault so farre , as now they saw Her licence fit to be restrain'd by law : Which law receiv'd , the Chorus held his peace , His power of foulely hurting made to cease . Two rest 's , a short and long , th' Iambick frame ; A foot , whose swiftnesse gave the Verse the name Of Trimeter , when yet it was sixe-pac'd , But meere Iambicks all , from first to last . Nor is 't long since , they did with patience take Into their birth-right , and for fitnesse sake , The steadie Spondaees ; so themselves doe beare More slow , and come more weightie to the eare : Provided , ne're to yeeld , in any case Of fellowship , the fourth , or second place . This foot yet , in the famous Trimeters Of Accius , and Ennius , rare appeares : So rare , as with some taxe it doth ingage Those heavie Verses sent so to the Stage , Of too much haste , and negligence in part , Or a worse Crime , the ignorance of art . But every Judge hath not the facultie To note in Poëmes , breach of harmonie ; And there is given too , unworthy leave To Roman Poëts . Shall I therefore weave My Verse at randome , and licentiously ? Or rather , thinking all my faults may spie , Grow a safe Writer , and be warie-driven Within the hope of having all forgiven . 'T is cleare , this way I have got off from blame , But , in conclusion , merited no fame . Take you the Greeke Examples , for your light , In hand , and turne them over day , and night . Our Ancestors did Plautus numbers praise , And jests ; and both to admiration raise Too patiently , that I not fondly say ; If either you , or I , know the right way To part scurrilitie from wit : or can A lawfull Verse , by th' eare , or finger scan . Our Poëts , too , left nought unproved here ; Nor did they merit the lesse Crowne to weare , In daring to forsake the Grecian tracts , And celebrating our owne home-borne facts ; Whether the guarded Tragedie they wrought , Or 't were the gowned Comoedy they taught . Nor had our Italie more glorious bin In vertue , and renowne of armes , then in Her language , if the Stay , and Care t' have mended , Had not our every Poët like offended . But you , Pompilius off-spring , spare you not To taxe that Verse , which many a day , and blot Have not kept in ; and ( lest perfection faile ) Not ten times o're , corrected to the naile . Because Democritus beleeves a wit Happier then wretched art , and doth , by it , Exclude all sober Poëts , from their share In Helicon ; a great sort will not pare Their nailes , nor shave their beards , but to by-paths Retire themselves , avoid the publike baths ; For so , they shall not only gaine the worth , But fame of Poëts , they thinke , if they come forth , And from the Barber Licinus conceale Their heads , which three Anticyra's cannot heale . O I left-witted , that purge every spring For choller ! If I did not , who could bring Out better Poëms ? But I cannot buy My title , at the rate , I 'ad rather , I , Be like a Whet-stone , that an edge can put On steele , though 't selfe be dull , and cannot cut . I writing nought my selfe , will teach them yet Their Charge , and Office , whence their wealth to fet , What nourisheth , what formed , what begot The Poët , what becommeth , and what not : Whether truth may , and whether error bring . The very root of writing well , and spring Is to be wise ; thy matter first to know ; Which the Socratick writings best can show : And , where the matter is provided still , There words will follow , not against their will . Hee , that hath studied well the debt , and knowes What to his Countrey , what his friends he owes , What height of love , a Parent will fit best , What brethren , what a stranger , and his guest , Can tell a States-mans dutie , what the arts And office of a Judge are , what the parts Of a brave Chiefe sent to the warres : He can , Indeed , give fitting dues to every man . And I still bid the learned Maker looke , On life , and manners , and make those his booke , Thence draw forth true expressions . For , sometimes , A Poëme , of no grace , weight , art , in rimes With specious places , and being humour'd right , More strongly takes the people with delight , And better stayes them there , then all fine noise Of verse meere-matter-lesse , and tinckling toies . The Muse not only gave the Greek's a wit But a well-compass'd mouth to utter it . Being men were covetous of nought , but praise ; Our Roman Youths they learne the subtle wayes How to divide , into a hundred parts , A pound , or piece , by their long compting arts : There 's Albin's sonne will say , Substract an ounce From the five ounces ; what remaines ? pronounce A third of twelve , you may : foure ounces . Glad , He cries , Good boy , thou 'lt keepe thine owne . Now , adde An ounce , what makes it then ? The halfe pound just ; Sixe ounces . O , whence once the canker'd rust , And care of getting , thus , our minds hath stain'd , Thinke wee , or hope , there can be Verses fain'd In juyce of Cedar , worthy to be steep'd , And in smooth Cypresse boxes to be keep'd ? Poëts would either profit , or delight , Or mixing sweet , and fit , teach life the right . Orpheus , a priest , and speaker for the Gods First frighted men , and wildly liv'd , at ods , From slaughters , and foule life ; and for the same Was Tigers , said , and Lyons fierce , to tame . Amphion , too , that built the Theban towres , Was said to move the stones , by his Lutes powers , And lead them with soft songs , where that he would . This was the wisdome , that they had of old , Things sacred , from profane to separate ; The publike , from the private ; to abate Wild raging lusts ; prescribe the mariage good ; Build Townes , and carve the Lawes in leaves of wood . And thus at first , an honour , and a name To divine Poets , and their Verses came . Next these great Homer and Tyrtoeus set On edge the Masculine spirits , and did whet Their minds to Warres , with rimes they did rehearse ; The Oracles , too , were given out in Verse ; All way of life was shewen ; the grace of Kings Attempted by the Muses tunes , and strings ; Playes were found out ; and rest , the end , and crowne Of their long labours , was in Verse set downe : All which I tell , lest when Apollo's nam'd , Or Muse , upon the Lyre , thou chance b' asham'd . Be briefe , in what thou wouldst command , that so The docile mind may soone thy precepts know , And hold them faithfully ; For nothing rests , But flowes out , that ore-swelleth in full brests . Let what thou fain'st for pleasures sake , be neere The truth ; nor let thy Fable thinke , what e're It would , must be : lest it alive would draw The Child , when Lamia ' has din'd , out of her maw . The Poëms void of profit , our grave men Cast out by voyces ; want they pleasure , then Our Gallants give them none , but passe them by : But he hath every suffrage can apply Sweet mix'd with sowre , to his Reader , so As doctrine , and delight together go . This booke will get the Sosii money ; This Will passe the Seas , and long as nature is , With honour make the farre-knowne Author live . There are yet faults , which we would well forgive , For , neither doth the String still yeeld that sound The hand , and mind would , but it will resound Oft-times a Sharpe , when we require a Flat : Nor alwayes doth the loofed Bow , hit that Which it doth threaten Therefore , where I see Much in the Poëme shine , I will not bee Offended with few spots , which negligence Hath shed , or humane frailtie not kept thence . How then ? Why , as a Scrivener , if h' offend Still in the same , and warned will not mend , Deserves no pardon ; or who 'd play , and sing Is laugh'd at , that still jarreth on one string : So he that flaggeth much , becomes to me A Choerilus , in whom if I but see Twice , or thrice good , I wonder : but am more Angry . Sometimes , I heare good Homer snore . But , I confesse , that , in a long worke , sleepe May , with some right , upon an Author creepe . As Painting , so is Poësie . Some mans hand Will take you more , the neerer that you stand ; As some the farther off : This loves the darke ; This , fearing not the subtlest Judges marke Will in the light be view'd : This once , the sight Doth please ; this , ten times over , will delight . You Sir , the elder brother , though you are Informed rightly , by your Fathers care , And , of your selfe too , understand ; yet mind This saying : To some things there is assign'd A meane , and toleration , which does well : There may a Lawyer be , may not excell ; Or Pleader at the Barre , that may come short Of eloquent Messalla's power in Court , Or knowes not what Cassellius Aulus can ; Yet , there 's a value given to this man . But neither , Men , nor Gods , nor Pillars meant , Poëts should ever be indifferent . As jarring Musique doth , at jolly feasts , Or thick grosse ointment , but offend the Guests : As Poppie , and Sardane honey ; 'cause without These , the free meale might have beene well drawne out : So , any Poëme , fancied , or forth-brought To bettring of the mind of man , in ought , If ne're so little it depart the first , And highest ; sinketh to the lowest , and worst . Hee , that not knowes the games , nor how to use His armes in Mars his field , he doth refuse ; Or , who 's unskilfull at the Cort , or Ball , Or trundling Wheele , he can sit still , from all ; Lest the throng'd heapes should on a laughter take : Yet who 's most ignorant , dares Verses make . Why not ? I 'm gentle , and free-borne , doe hate Vice , and , am knowne to have a Knights estate . Thou , such thy judgement is , thy knowledge too , Wilt nothing against nature speake , or doe : But , if hereafter thou shalt write , not feare To send it to be judg'd by Metius eare , And , to your Fathers , and to mine ; though 't be Nine yeares kept in , your papers by , yo' are free To change , and mend , what you not forth doe set . The Writ , once out , never returned yet . 'T is now inquir'd , which makes the nobler Verse , Nature , or Art . My Judgement will not pierce Into the Profits , what a meere rude braine Can ; or all toile , without a wealthie veine : So doth the one , the others helpe require , And friendly should unto one end conspire . Hee , that 's ambitious in the race to touch The wished goale , both did , and suffer'd much While he was young ; he sweat ; and freez'd againe : And both from Wine , and Women did abstaine . Who , since , to sing the Pythian rites is heard , Did learne them first , and once a Master fear'd . But , now , it is enough to say ; I make An admirable Verse . The great Scurfe take Him that is last , I scorne to come behind , Or , of the things , that ne're came in my mind To say , I 'm ignorant . Just as a Crier That to the sale of Wares calls every Buyer ; So doth the Poet , who is rich in land , Or great in money 's out at use , command His flatterers to their gaine . But say , he can Make a great Supper ; or for some poore man Will be a suretie ; or can helpe him out Of an entangling suit ; and bring 't about : I wonder how this happie man should know , Whether his soothing friend speake truth , or no. But you , my Piso , carefully beware , ( Whether yo' are given to , or giver are . ) You doe not bring , to judge your Verses , one , With joy of what is given him , over-gone : For hee 'll cry , Good , brave , better , excellent ! Looke pale , distill a showre ( was never meant ) Out at his friendly eyes , leape , beat the groun ' . As those that hir'd to weepe at Funeralls , swoune , Cry , and doe more then the true Mourners : so The Scoffer , the true Praiser doth out-goe . Rich men are said with many cups to plie , And rack , with Wine , the man whom they would try , If of their friendship he be worthy , or no : When you write Verses , with your judge do so : Looke through him , and be sure , you take not mocks For praises , where the mind conceales a foxe . If to Quintilius , you recited ought : Hee 'd say , Mend this , good friend , and this ; 'T is naught . If you denied , you had no better straine , And twice , or thrice had 'ssayd it , still in vaine : Hee 'd bid , blot all : and to the anvile bring Those ill-torn'd Verses , to new hammering . Then : If your fault you rather had defend Then change . No word , or worke , more would he spend In vaine , but you , and yours , you should love still Alone , without a rivall , by his will . A wise , and honest man will cry out shame On artlesse Verse ; the hard ones he will blame ; Blot out the carelesse , with his turned pen ; Cut off superfluous ornaments ; and when They 're darke , bid cleare this : all that 's doubtfull wrote Reprove ; and , what is to be changed , note : Become an Aristarchus . And , not say , Why should I grieve my friend , this trifling way ? These trifles into serious mischiefes lead The man once mock'd , and suffer'd wrong to tread . Wise , sober folke , a frantick Poet feare , And shun to touch him , as a man that were Infected with the leprosie , or had The yellow Jaundies , or were furious mad According to the Moone . But , then the boyes They vexe , and follow him with shouts , and noise , The while he belcheth loftie Verses out , And stalketh , like a Fowler , round about , Busie to catch a Black-bird ; if he fall Into a pit , or hole ; although he call , And cry aloud , Helpe gentle Countrey-men , There 's none will take the care , to helpe him then ; For , if one should , and with a rope make haste To let it downe , who knowes , if he did cast Himselfe there purposely , or no ; and would Not thence be sav'd , although indeed he could ? I 'le tell you but the death , and the disease Of the Sicilian Poët Empedocles , Hee , while he labour'd to be thought a God Immortall , tooke a melancholique , odde Conceipt , and into burning Aetna leap'd . Let Poëts perish , that will not be kept . Hee that preserves a man , against his will , Doth the same thing with him , that would him kill . Nor did he doe this once ; for if you can Recall him yet , hee 'ld be no more a man : Or love of this so famous death lay by . His cause of making Verses none knowes why Whether he piss'd upon his Fathers grave ; Or the sad thunder-stroken thing he have Defiled , touch'd ; but certaine he was mad , And , as a Beare , if he the strength but had To force the grates , that hold him in , would fright All ; So this grievous Writer puts to flight Learn'd and unlearn'd ; holding , whom once he takes ; And , there an end of him , reciting makes : Not letting goe his hold , where he drawes food , Till he drop off , a Horse-leech , full of blood .
FINIS .

THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR . MADE BY BEN. IOHNSON .

For the benefit of all Strangers , out of his observation of the English Language now spoken , and in use .

Consuetudo , certissima loquendi Magistra , utendumque planè sermone , ut nummo , cui publica forma est . Quinct .

Printed M.DC.XL .

Non obstant hae disciplinae per illas euntibus sed circa illas haerentibus .

Quinct .

Major adhuc restat labor , sed sanè sit cum veniâ , si gratià carebit : Boni enim artificis partes sunt , quàm paucissima possit omittere .

Scalig. lib. 1. c. 25.

Neque enim optimi artificis est , omnia persequi .

Gallenus .

Expedire Grammatico , etiam , si quaedam nesciat .

Quinctil .
THE PREFACE .

THe profit of Grammar is great to Strangers , who are to live in communion , and commerce with us ; and , it is honourable to our selves . For , by it we communicate all our labours , studies , profits , without an Interpreter .

Wee free our Language from the opinion of Rudenesse , and Barbarisme , wherewith it is mistaken to be diseas'd ; We shew the Copie of it , and Matchablenesse , with other tongues ; we ripen the wits of our owne Children , and Youth sooner by it , and advance their knowledge .

Confusion of Language , a Curse . Experience breedeth Art : Lacke of Experience , Chance .

Experience , Observation , Sense , Induction , are the fower Tryers of Arts. It is ridiculous to teach any thing for undoubted Truth , that Sense , and Experience , can confute . So Zeno disputing of Quies , was confuted by Diogenes , rising up and walking .

In Grammer , not so much the Invention , as the Disposition is to be commended : Yet we must remember , that the most excellent creatures are not ever borne perfect ; to leave Beares , and Whelps , and other failings of Nature .

IUI. Caesar Scaliger . de caus . ling. Lat. Grammatici unus finis est rectè loqui . Neque necesse habet scribere . Accidit enim Scriptura voci , neque alitèr scribere debemus , quàm loquamur .

Ramus in definit . pag. 30. Grammatica est ars benè loquendi .

( b ) Veteres , ut Varro , Cicero , Quinctilianus , Etymologiam in notatione vocum statuêre .

( c ) Dictionis natura prior est , posterior orationis . Ex usu v●cerum Latinorum , Vox , pro dictione scriptâ accipitur : quoniam vox esse possit . Est articulata , quae scripto excipi , atque exprimi valeat : inarticulata , quae non . Articulata vox dicitur , quâ genus humanum utitur distinctìm , à caeteris animalibus , quae muta vocantur : non , quòd sonum non edant ; sed quia soni eorum nullis exprimantur propriè Literarum notis .

Smithus de rectâ , & amend . L. Latin . script .

( d ) Syllaba est elementum sub accentu . Scalig. lib. 2.

( e ) Litera est pars dictionis indivisibilis . Nam , quamquam sunt literae quaedam duplices , una tamen tantùm litera est , sibi quaeque sonum unum certum servans . Scalig.

Et Smithus , ibid. Litera pars minima vocis articulatae .

( f ) Natura literae tribus modis intelligitur ; nomine , quo pronunciatur ; potestate , quâ valet ; figurâ , quâ scribitur . At potestas est sonus ille , quo pronunciari , quem etiam figura debet imitari ; ut his Prosodiam , Orthographia sequatur . Asper .

( g ) Prosodia autem , & Orthographia partes non sunt ; sed , ut sanguis , & spiritus per corpus universum fusae . Scal. ut suprà . Ramus , pag. 31.

( h ) Litera , à lineando ; undè , linere , lineaturae , literae , & liturae . Neque enim à lituris literae quia delerentur ; priùs enim factae , quàm deletae sunt . At formae potiùs , atque 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 rationem , quàm interitûs , habeamus . Scal. ibid.

( i ) Litera genus quoddam est , cujus species primariae duae , vocalis , & Consonans , quarum natura , & constitutio non potest percipi , nisi priùs cognoscantur differentiae formales , quibus factum est , ut inter se non convenirent . Scal. ibid.

Literae differentia generica est potestas , quam nimìs rudi consilio veteres , Accidens appellârunt . Est enim forma quaedam ipse flexus in voce , quasi in materiâ , propter quem flexum fit ; ut vocalis per se possit pronunciari : Muta , non possit . Figura autem est accidens ab arte institutum ; potestque attributa mutari . Iul. Caes . Scal. ibidèm . De vi , ac potestate literarum tum accuratè scripsêrunt Antiqui , quàm de quâvis aliâ suae professionis parte . Elaborârunt in hoc argumento Varro , Priscianus , Appion , ille , qui cymbalum dicebatur mundi : & inter rhetores non postremi judicii , Dionysius Halicarnassaeus , Caius quoque Caesar , & Octavius Augustus . Smith , ibid.

( l ) Literae , quae per seipsas possint pronunciari , vocales sunt ; quae non , nisi cum aliis , consonantes .

Vocalium nomina simplici sono , nec differente , á potestate proferantur .

Consonantes , additis vocalibus , quibusaam praepositis ; aliis postpositis .

( m ) Ex consonantibus , quorum nomen incipit à Consonante , Mutae sunt ; quarum à vocali , somivocales : Mutas non indè appellatas , quòd parùm sonarent , Sed quòd nihil .

CHAPTER I. Of Grammar , and the Parts .

(a) GRammar is the art of true , and well speaking a Language : the writing is but an Accident .

The parts of Grammar are ( b ) Etymologie , which is the true notation of words . Syntaxe , which is the right ordering of them .

( c ) A Word , is a part of speech , or note , whereby a thing is knowne , or called : and consisteth of one , or more Syllabes .

( d ) A Syllabe is a perfect sound in a word , and consisteth of one , of more Letters .

( e ) A Letter is an indivisible part of a Syllabe , ( f ) whose Prosody , or right sounding is perceiv'd by the power ; the Orthography , or right writing by the forme .

(g) Prosodie , and Orthography , are not parts of Grammar , but diffus'd , like the blood , and spirits through the whole .

CHAPTER II. (h) Of Letters , and their powers .

IN our Language we use these twentie , and foure Letters . A.B.C.D.E.F.G.H.I.K.L.M.N.O.P.Q.R.S.T.V.W.X.Y.Z. a.b.c.d.e.f.g.h.i.k.l.m.n.o.p.q.r.s.t.v.w.x.y.z. The great Letters serve to begin Sentences , with us , to lead proper names , and expresse numbers . The lesse make the fabricke of speech .

Our numerall Lettersare, I. 1. V. 5. X. 10. L. for 50. C. 100. D. 500. M. 1000.

( i ) All Letters are either Vowells , or Consonants : and , ( k ) are principally knowne by their powers . The Figure is an Accident .

( l ) A Vowell will be pronounced by it selfe : A Consonant , not without the helpe of a Vowell , either before , or after .

The received Vowells in our tongue , are a. e. i. o. u.

Consonants be either Mutes , and close the sound , as b.c.d.g.k.p.q.t. Or , Halfe Vowells , and open it , as f.l.m.n.r.s.x.z.

H. Is rarely other then an aspiration in power , though a Letter in forme .

W. and Y. have shifting , and uncertaine seates , as shall bee showne in their places .

CHAP. III. Of the Vowels .

ALL our (n) Vowels are sounded doubtfully . In quantitie , ( which is Time ) long , or short . Or , in accent , ( which is Tune ) sharp , or , flat . Long in these words , and their like : Debāting . congēling . expīring . oppōsing . endūring .

Short , in these : Stomăching . severing . vanquĭshing . ransŏming . pictŭring .

Sharpe , in these : Háte . méte . bíte. nóte. púle .

Flat , in these : Hàt. mèt . bìt. nòt . pùl.

With us , in most words is pronounced lesse , then the French à , as in , art. act . apple . ancient .

But , when it comes before l. in the end of a Syllabe , it obtaineth the full French ( p ) sound , and is utter'd with the mouth , and throat wide open'd , the tongue bent backe from the teeth , as in al. smal . gal . fal . tal . cal .

So in the Syllables , where a Consonant followeth the l. as in Salt . malt . balme . calme .

Is pronounced with a meane opening the mouth , the tongue turn'd to the inner roofe of the palate , and softly striking the upper great teeth . It is a Letter of divers note and use : and either soundeth , or is silent . When it is the last letter , and soundeth , the sound is sharp , as in the French i. Example in mé sé . agré . yé . shé . in all , saving the Article , thè .

Where it endeth , and soundeth obscure , and faintly , it serves as an accent , to produce the Vowell preceding : as in máde . stéme . strípe . óre . cúre . which else would sound , màd . stèm . strìp . òr . cùr .

It altereth the power of ● . g. s. so plac'd , as in hence , which else would sound henc . Swinge , to make it differ from swing . Use , to distinguish it from us .

It is meere silent in words , where l. is coupled with a Consonant in the end ; as Whistle . gristle . britle . fickle . thimble , &c.

Or after v Consonant , or double ss. as in love . glove . move . redresse . crosse . losse .

Where it endeth a former Syllable , it soundeth longish , but flat : as in dérive . prépare . résolve .

Except in Derivatives , or Compounds of the sharp e , and then it answers the primitive , or simple in the first sound ; as Agreeing , of agree : fore-seeing , of fore-see : being , of bee .

Where it endeth a last Syllable , with one , or mo Consonants after it , it either soundeth flat , and full : as in Descent . intent . amend . offend . rest . best . Or , it passeth away obscur'd , like the faint i. as in these , Written . gotten . open . saieth divel , &c.

( r ) Which two letters e. and i. have such a neerenesse in our tongue , as often times they enterchange places : as in enduce , for induce : endite , for indite : her , for hir .

(n) Omnes Vocales ancipites sunt ( i.e. ) modò longae ; modò breves : eodem tamen modo sempèr depictae , ( nam scripturae est imitatio sermonis , ut pictura corporis . Scriptio vocūm pictura . ( Smithus ) & eodem sono pronunciatae . Nisi , quòd vocalis longa bis tantum temporis in effando retinet , quàm brevis . Ut rectè cecinit ille de Vocalibus .

Temporis unius brevis est , ut longa duorum .

(o) Litterae hujus sonus estemnium Gentium ferè communis . Nomen autem , & figura multis nationibus est diversa . Scalig. & Ramus . Dionysius ait a. esse 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ex plenitudine vocis .

(p) Teren. Maurus . A , prima locum littera sic ab ore sumit , Immunia , rictu patulo , tené●●●bra ; Linguamque necesse est ità pandulam reducî , Ut nisus in illam valeat subire vocis , Nec partibus ullis aliquos ferire dentes .

, Triplicem differentiam habet : primam , mediocris rictus : secundam , linguae , camque duplicem ; alteram , interioris , nempè inflexae ad interius coelum palati ; alteram genninos prementis . Tertia est labri inferioris .

Ramus , lib. 2. Duas primas Terentianus notavit ; tertiam tacuit . Terentianus 1.

E , quae sequitur , vocula dissona est priori : quia deprimit altum modico tenore rictum , & remotos premit hinc , & hinc molares .

( r ) Apud latinos , e. latiùs sonat in Adverbio benè , quàm in Adverbio herè : hujus enim posteriorem vocalem exiliùs pronunciabant ; ità , ut etiàm in maximè exilem sonum transîerit herì . Id , quod latiùs in multis quoque patet : Ut ab Eo , verbo , deductum , ire : iis , & eis : Diis , & Deis : Febrem , febrim : Turrem , turrim : Priore , & priori . Ram. & Scalig.

Et propter hanc vicinitatem ( ait Quinct . ) e. quoque loco i. fuit : ut Menerva . leber . Magester : pro Minerva , liber , Magister .

Porrigit ictum genuino propè ad ipsos Minimumque renidet supero tenus labello . Terent.

I. Vocalis sonos habet tres : suum , exilem : alterum , latiorem propriorumque ipsi e ; & tertium , obscuriorem ipsius u , inter quae duo Y gracae vocalis son●● continetur : ut non inconsultò Victorinus ambiguam illam quam adduximus vocem , per Y scribendam esse putârit , Optimus .

Scalig.

Ante Consonantem I. sempèr est Vocalis .

( t ) Ante Vocalem ejusdem syllabae Consonans .

( u ) Apud Hebraeos I. perpetur est Consonans ; ut apud Graecos Vocalis .

(w) Ut in Giacente . Giesù . Gioconda . Giustitia .

(x) O Pronunciatur rotundo ore , linguâ ad radices Hypoglossis reductâ . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , unicâ tantùm notâ , sono differenti .

( y ) Profertur , ut 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 .

( z ) Ut oo . vel ou . Gallicum .

Una quoniam sat habitum est notare forma , Pro temporibus quae gremium ministret usum . Igitur sonitum reddere voles minori , Retrorsùs adactam modicè teneto linguam , Rictu neque magno sat erit patere labra , At longior alto tragicum sub oris antro Molita , rotundis acuit sonum labellis . Terent.

Differentiam o. parvi valdè distinctam Franci tenent : sed scripturâ valdè confundunt . O , scribunt perindè ut proferunt . At ω scribunt modò per au . modò per ao. quae sonum talem minimè sonant , qui simplici , & rotundo motu oris proferri debet .

( a ) Quanta sit affinitas ( o. ) cum ( u. ) ex Quinct . Plinio , Papyriano notum est . Quid enim o. & u. permutatae invicèm , ut Hecobe . & Notrix , Culchides , & Pulixena , scriberentur ? sic nostri praeceptores , Cervom , Servomque u. & o. litteris scripsêrunt ; Sic dederont , probaveront , Romanis olim fuêre . Quinct . lib. 1.

Denique o. teste Plinio , apud Priscianum aliquot Italiae Civitates non habebant ; sed loco ejus ponebant u. & maximè Umbri , & Tusci . Atque u. contrá , teste apud eundem Papyriano , multis Italiae populis , in usu non erat ; sed utebantur o. unde Romanorum quoque vetustissmi in multis dictionibus , loco ejus o. posuêrunt : ut poblicum , pro publicum ; polcrum , pro pulcrum ; colpam , pro culpam .

Is of a narrower sound then e , and uttered with a lesse opening of the mouth ; the tongue brought backe to the palate , and striking the teeth next the cheeke-teeth .

It is a Letter of a double power .

As a Vowell in the former , or single Syllabes , it hath sometimes the sharpe accent ; as in bínding . mínding . píning . whíning . wíving . thriving . míne . thíne .

Or , all words of one Syllabe qualified by e. But , the flat in more , as in these , bìll . bìtter . gìddy . lìttle . ìncident . and the like .

In the Derivatives of sharpe Primitives , it keepeth the sound , though it deliver over the Primitive Consonant to the next Syllabe ; as in diví-ning . requí-ring . repí-ning .

For , a Consonant falling betweene two Vowells in the word , will bee spell'd with the latter . In Syllabes , and words , compos'd of the same Elements , it varieth the sound , now sharpe , now flat : as in gíve , gìve . alíve , lìve . drìve , drìven . tìtle , títle .

But these , use of speaking , and acquaintance in reading , will teach , rather then rule .

(t) I. in the other power is meerely another Letter , and would aske to enjoy an other Character . For , where it leads the sounding Vowell , and beginneth the Syllabe , it is ever a Consonant : as in James . John . jest . jump . conjurer . perjur'd .

And before Dipthongs : as Jay . joy . juyce . as , having the force of the Hebrewes (u) Jod , and the Italians (w) Gi.

( x ) Is pronounced with a round mouth , the tongue drawne back to the root : and is a Letter of much change , and uncertaintie with us .

In the long time it naturally soundeth sharp , and high : as in (y) chósen . hósen . hóly . fólly . ópen . óver . nóte. thróte .

In the short time more flat , and a kin to u. as (z) còsen . dòsen . mòther . bròther . lòve . pròve .

In the Dipthong , sometimes it soundeth out : as óught . sóught . nóught . wróught . mów . sów .

But oftner upon the u : as in sòund . bòund . hòw. nòw . thòu . còw.

In the last Syllabes before n. and w. it frequently looseth : as in persòn . actiòn . willòw . billòw .

It holds up , and is sharpe , when it ends the word , or Syllabe : as in gó. fró . só . nó . except in tò , the Preposition . Twò , the numerall . Dò , the Verbe , and the compounds of it ; as undò : and the Derivatives ; as Dòing .

It varieth the sound in Syllabes of the same Character , and proportion : as in shòve . shóve . glòve . gróve . Which double sound it hath from the Latine : as (a) Voltus , vultus . vultis , voltis .

( b ) Is sounded with a narrower , and meane compasse , and some depression of the middle of the tongue , and is like our i. a letter of a double power . As a Vowell it soundeth thin and sharpe , as in úse ; thicke and flat , as in us .

It never endeth any word for the nakednesse , but yeeldeth to the termination of the Diphthong ew , as in new , trew , knew , &c. or the qualifying e. as in sue . due ; and the like .

( c ) When it leadeth a sounding Vowell in the Syllabe , it is a Consonant : as in save . reve . prove . love . &c.

Which double force is not the unstedfastnesse of our tongue , or incertaintie of our writing , but falne upon us from the Latine .

( d ) Is but the V. geminated in the full sound , and though it have the seate of a Consonant with us , the power is alwayes Vowellish , even where it leades the Vowell in any Syllabe : as if you marke it , pronounce the two uu . like ȣ . quicke in passage , and these words : ȣ-ine . ȣ-ant . ȣ-ood . ȣ-ast . sȣ-ing . sȣ-am .

Will sound , Wine . want wood . wast . swing . swam .

So put the aspiration afore , and these words : hȣ-at . hȣ-ich . hȣ-eéle . hȣ-ether .

Will be What. which . wheele . whether .

In the Dipthongs there will be no doubt : as in draw . straw . sow . know .

Nor in Derivatives : as knowing . sowing . drawing .

Whether the double w. is of necessitie used , rather then the single u. lest it might alter the sound , and be pronounced knoving . soving . draving .

As in saving . having .

Is also meere Vowellish in our tongue , and hath only the power of an i. even where it obtaines the Seat of a Consonant : as in Young . Younker .

Which the Dutch , whose Primitive it is , write Iunk . Iunker .

And so might we write Iouth . ies . ioke . ionder . iard . ielke . Youth . yes . yoke . yonder . yard . yelke .

But that we choose y. to distinguish from j. Consonant .

In the Dipthong it sounds alwayes i. as in may . say . way . joy . toy . they .

And in the ends of words : as in deny . reply . defy . cry .

Which sometimes are written by i. but qualified by e.

But where two i.i. are sounded , the first will be ever a y. as in Derivatives : denying . replying . defying .

( f ) Only in the words received by us from the Greeke , as Syllabe , Tyran , and the like , it keepes the sound of the thin , and sharpe u. in some proportion ; And this we had to say of the Vowells .

Quam scribere Graius , nisi jungat Y. nequibit Hanc edere vocem quotiès paramus ore , Nitamur ut U. dicere sic citetur ortus . Productiùs autem coëuntibus labellis Natura soni pressi altiùs meabit . Terentian .

Et alibi . Graeca dipthongus ȣ , literis tamen nostris vacat , Sola vocalis quod u. complet hunc satis sonum .

Ut in titulis , fabulis Terentii praepositis . Graecae Menandru : Graeca Apollodoru , pro 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , & 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , & quidem , ne quis de potestate vocalis hujus addubitare possit , etiàm à mutis animalibus testimonium Plautus nobis exhibuit è Peniculo Menechmi . ME. Egon' dedi ? Pe. tu , tu , inquam , vin' afferri noctuam , Quae tu , tu , usque dicat tibi : nam nos , jàm nos defessi sumus .

Ergò ut ovium halatus 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 literae sonum : sic noctuarum cantus , & cuculi apud Aristophanem sonum hujus vocalis vindicabit . Nam , quando u. liquescit , ut in quis , & sanguis habet sonum communem cum Y graecâ , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Et quando Coccyx dixerit Coccy . ( c ) Consonans ut u. Gallicum , vel Digamma profertur Hanc & modò quam diximus J. simul jugatas Verum est spacium sumere , vimque Consonantum , Ut quaeque tamen constiterit loco priore :

Nam si juga quis nominet , J. consona fiet . Terent. Versâ vice sit prior V. sequatur illa , ut in vide .

( d ) Ut Itali proferunt Edoardo in Edouardo , & Galli , ou-y . Suävis , suädeo , etiam Latini , ut sȣ-avis , &c. At quid attinet duplicare , quod simplex queat sufficere ? Proindè W. pro copiâ Charactêrum non reprehendo , pro novâ literâ certè non agnosco . Veteresque Anglo-Saxones pro eâ , quando nos W. solemus uti , figuram istius modi ƿ. solebant conscribere , quae non multùm differt ab eâ , quâ & hodiè utimur Ƿ. simplici , dum verbum inchoet . Smithus de rect . & amend . L.A. Script .

( f ) Siquidem eandem pro o. gracoretinet : certè alium , quàm i. omni in loco reddere debebat sonum .

( g ) Nobis cum Latinis communis . Smith . Nam muta jubet comprimi labella , Vocalis at intùs locus exitum ministrat . Terent. B. Labris per spiritus impetum reclusis edicimus . Mart. cap.

( h ) Litera Androgyne , naturâ nec mas , nec foemina , & utrumque est neutrum . Monstrum literae , non litera ; Ignorantiae specimen , non artis . Smithus .

Quomodo nunc utimur vulgò , aut nullas , aut nimias habet vires : nam , modò k. sonat , modò s. At si litera sit à k. & s. diversa , suum debet habere sonum . Sed nescio quod monstrum , aut Empulsa sit , qua modò mas , modò foemina , modò serpens , modo cornix , appareat ; & per ejusmodi imposturas , pro suo arbitrio , tàm s. quám k. exigat aedibus ; & fundis suis : ut jure possint hae duae literae contendere cum c. per edictum , unde vi : Neque dubito quin , ubi sit Praetor aequus facilè c. cadet caussa .

( i ) Apud Latinos c. eandem habuit formam , & Charactêrem ; quem 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 apud Graecos veteres .

An haec fuit occasio , quòd ignorantia , confusioque eundem , quod imperitos dederit sonum C. quem S. nolo affirmare .

( k ) Vetustae illius Anglo-Saxonicae linguae , & scriptionis peritiores contendunt , apud illos atavos nostros Anglo-Saxones , C. literam , maximè ante e. & i. eum habuisse sonum , quem , & pro tenui 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Chi. sono agnoscimus : & Itali , maximè Hetrusci , ante e. & i. hodiè usurpant . Idem ibidèm .

(l) C. molaribus super linguae extrema appulsis exprimitur .

Mart. Cap.

Terentianus . C. pressiùs urget ; sed , & hìnc , hincque remittit , Quo vocis adhaerens sonus explicetur ore .

D. Appulsu linguae circa dentes superiores innascitur .

Terentianus . ( m ) At portio dentes quotiens suprema linguae Pulsaverit imos , modiceque curva summas Tunc D. sonitum perficit , explicatque vocem .

( n ) Litera à graecâ φ. recedit lenis , & hebes sonus .

Idem .

(o) Vau consona Varrone , & Dydimo , testibus , nominata est F. figura à Claudio Caesare factaetiam est . Vis ejus , & potestas est eadem , qua Digamma Acolici , at ostendit Terentianus in v. consona .

V. vade , veni , refer ; teneto vultum : Crevisse sonum perspicis , & coïsse crassum , Unde Aeoliis litera fingitur Digammos .

H. quasi 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . contrarium F. quae sonat φ.

CHAP. IIII. Of the Consonants .

HAth the same sound with us , as it hath with the Latine , alwayes one , and is utter'd with ( g ) closing of the lips .

Is a letter , which our Fore-fathers might very well have spar'd in our tongue : but since it hath obtained place , both in our Writing , and Language , we are not now to quarrell Orthographie , or Custome ; but to note the powers .

Before a. u. and o. it plainly sounds k. Chi. or Kappa . as in cable . coble . cudgell .

Or before the Liquids . l. and r. as in clod . crust .

Or , when it ends a former Syllabe before a Consonant : as in acquaintance . acknowledgement . action .

In all which it sounds strong .

( i ) Before e. and i. it hath a weake sound , and hisseth , like s. as in certaine . center . civill . citizen . whence .

Or , before the Dipthongs : as in cease . deceive .

( k ) Among the English-Saxons it obtain'd the weaker force Chi. or the Italians C. as in Capel . canc . cild . cyrce .

Which were pronounced Chapel . chance . child . church .

( l ) It is sounded with the top of the tongue , striking the upper teeth , and rebounding against the Palate .

Hath the same sound , both before , and after a Vowell with us , as it hath with the Latines : and is pronounc'd softly , ( m ) the tongue a little affecting the teeth , but the nether teeth most .

Is a Letter of two forces with us : and in them both sounded with the nether-lip rounded , and a kind of blowing out : but gentler in the one , then the other .

The more generall sound is the softest ; ( n ) and expresseth the Greeke φ. as in Faith . field . feight . force .

Where it sounds ef .

( o ) The other is 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , or van . the Digamma of Claudius : as in cleft . of cleave . left , of leave .

The difference will best be found in the word of . which as a preposition sounds 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . of . him .

As the Adverbe of Distance .

off , farre off .

( p ) Is likewise of double force in our tongue , and is sounded with an impression made on the mid'st of the palate .

Before a. o. and u. strong ; as in these , gate . got . gut .

Or , before the Aspriate h. or , Liquids l. and r. as in ghost . glad . grant .

Or in the ends of words : as in long . song . ring . swing . eg . leg . lug. dug .

Except the qualifying e. follow ; and then the sound is ever weake ; as in age . stage . hedge . sledge . judge . drudge .

Before u. the force is double : as in guile . guide . guest . guise .

Where it soundeth like the French gu. . And in guin . guerdon . languish . anguish .

Where it speakes the Italian gu. .

Likewise , before e. and i. the powers are confus'd ; and utter'd , now strong , now weake : as in long . get . geld . give . Gitterne . finger . In weake . genet . gentle . gin . gibe . ginger .

But this use must teach : the one sound being warranted to our Letter , from the Greeke : the other from the Latine throughout .

Wee will leave H. in this place ; and come to

( q ) Which is a Letter the Latines never acknowledged , but only borrow'd in the word Kalendae . They used qu. for it . Wee sound it as the Greeke χ. and as a necessarie Letter it precedes , and followes all Vowells with us .

It goes before no Consonants but n. as in knave . knel. knot . &c.

And l. with the quiet e. after : as in mickle . pickle . trickle . fickle .

Which were better written without the c. if that which wee have received for Orthographie , would yet be contented to be altered . But that is an emendation , rather to be wished , then hoped for , after so long a raigne of ill-custome amongst us .

It followeth the s. in many words : as in skape . skoure . skirt . skirmish . skrape . skuller .

Which doe better so sound , then if written with c.

( r ) Is a Letter halfe-vowellish : which , though the Italians ( especially the Florentines ) abhorre , we keepe entire with the Latines , and so pronounce .

( p ) Spiritus cum palato . Mart. Cap.

De sono quidem hujus literae satis constat : sed distinctionis caussâ Charactêrem illi dedêrunt aliqui hunc ʒ . ut secernatur à G. Nam ut Graeci in secundâ Conjugatione tres habent literas , χ. γ. Χ. tenuem , mediam , densam ; Angli quatuor habent , ratâ proportione sibi respondentes , ka . ga. ce . ʒ ε. Illae simplices , & apertae ; hae stridulae , & compressae : illae mediae linguae officio sonantur ; hae summâ linguâ ad interiores illisa , superiorum dentium gingivas efflantur . Qoudque est ka . ad ga . idemest ce . ad ʒ . Smithus , ibid.

Voces tamen pleraque , quas Meridionales Angli per hunc sonum 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ʒ . pronunciamus in fine : Boreales , per G. proferunt : ut in voce Pons , nos briʒ : illi brig . In rupturâ , brec : illi brek . Maturam avem ad volandum , nos fliʒ : illi flig . ibid.

Apud Latinos proximum ipsi C. est G. Itaque Cneum , & Gneum , dicebant : Sic Curculionem , & Gurgulionem : appulsâ enim ad palatum linguâ , modicello relicto intervallo , spiritu tota pronunciatur . Scal. de causs . L.L.

Et Terentianus . Sic amurca , quae vetustè saepè per c. scribitur , Esse per g. proferendum credidêrunt plurimi Quando 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Graeca vox est ; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 origo praeferat .

Apud Germanos semper profertur γ

( q ) Cùm Kalendae , Graecam habebant diductionem & sonum , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Graecam sunt mutuati literam Romani , ut eas exprimerent . Et , credo tamen , fecêrunt eâ formâ , ut , & C. Romanum efformarent , quòd haberet adjunctum , quasi retrò bacillum , ut robur ei adderent istâ formâ K. nam C. Romanum stridulum quiddam , & molliùs sonat , quàm K. Graecum .

Est & haec litera Gallis planè supervacanea , aut certè qu. est . Nam , qui quae . quod . quid . nullâ pronunciant differentiâ , ne minimâ quidem à ki. ke . kod . kid . faucibus , palatoque formatur . Capel .

Romani in suâ seriê non habebunt .

( r ) Linguâ , palatoque dulcescit . M. Cap.

Et sic Dionysius 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , dulcissimam literam nominat .

Qui nescit , quid sit esse Semi-vocalem , ex nostrâ linguâ facilè poterit discere : ipsa enim litera L quandam , quasi Vocalem , in se videtur continere , ità ut junctae Mutae sine Vocali sonum faciat ; ut abl. stabl . fabl . &c.

Quae nos scribimus cum e. in fine , vulgò able . stable . fable .

Sed certè illud e. non tam sonat hìc , quàm fuscum illud , & foeminimum Francorum e. Nam nequicquàm sonat . Alii haec scribunt abil . stabil . fabul .

Tanquam à fontibus habilis . stabulis . fabula .

Veriùs , sed nequicquàm proficiunt . Nam , consideratiùs auscultanti , nec i. nec u. est , sed tinnitus quidam , vocalis naturam habens , quae naturaliter his liquidis inest .

( s ) Libris imprimitur . M. Capella .

Mugit intùs abditum , ac coecum sonum . Terent.

Triplex sonus hujus literae M. Obscurum , in extremitate dictionum sonat ; ut templum : Apertum , in principio , ut magnus : Mediocre , in mediis ut umbra Prisc .

Quartae sonitus fingitur usque sub palato , Quo spiritus anceps coëat naris , & oris . Terentian . Linguâ dentibus appulsâ collidit . Mart. Capella .

Splendidissimo sono in fine ; & subtremulo pleniore in principiis ; mediocriin medio . Jul. C. Scal.

Labris spiritu erumpit . Mar. Cap. Pellit sonitum de mediis foràs labellis . Ter. Maurus .

( w ) Est litera mendica , supposititia , verè servilis , manca , & decrepita ; & sine u. tanquàm bacillo nihil potest : & cùm u. nihil valet ampliùs quàm k.

Qualis , qualis est , hanc jam habemus , sed sempèr cum praecedente suâ u. ancillâ superbâ . Smithus . Namque Q. praemissâ semper u. simul mugit sibi , Syllabam non editura , ni comes sit tertia Quaelibet vocalis . Ter. Mau. Diomedes ait Q. esse compositam ex c. & u. Appulsu palati ore restricto profertur . M. Cap.

( x ) Vibrat tremulis ictibus aridum sonorem . Ter. M. — Sonat hìc de nâre caninâ Litera . — Pers. Sat. 1. R Spiritum , linguâ crispante corraditur . M. Cap. Dionysius 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . è congeneribus generosissimam appellavit .

(y) S promptus in ore , agiturque ponè dentes , Sic lenis & unum ciet auribus susurrum .

It melteth in the sounding , and is therefore call'd a liquid , the tongue striking the root of the palate gently .

It 's seldome doubled , but where the Vowell sounds hard upon it : as in hell . bell . kill . shrill . trull . full .

And , even in these , it is rather the haste , and superfluitie of the pen , that cannot stop it selfe upon the single l. then any necessitie we have to use it . For , the letter should be doubled only for a following Syllabe's sake : as in killing . beginning . begging . Swimming .

( s ) Is the same with us in sound , as with the Latines . It is pronounc'd with a kind of humming inward , the lips clos'd . Open , and full in the beginning : obscure in the end : and meanly in the midd'st .

( t ) Ringeth somewhat more in the lips and nose : the tongue striking back on the palate , and hath a threefold sound , shrill in the end : full in the beginning , and flat in the mid'st .

They are Letters neere of kin , both with the Latines , and us .

( u ) Breaketh softly through the lips ; and is a Letter of the same force with us , as with the Latines .

( w ) Is a Letter we might very well spare in our Alphabet , if we would but use the serviceable k. as he should be , and restore him to the right of reputation he had with our Fore-fathers . For , the English-Saxons knew not this halting Q. with her waiting-woman u. after her , but exprest quaile . kuaile . quest . kuest . quick by kuick . quil . kuil .

Till custome under the excuse of expressing enfranchis'd words with us , intreated her into our Language , in quality , quarel , quantity , quitescence , &c.

And hath now given her the best of ks. possessions .

( x ) Is the Dogs Letter , and hurreth in the sound ; the tongue striking the inner palate , with a trembling about the teeth . It is sounded firme in the beginning of the words , and more liquid in the middle , and ends : as in rarer . riper .

And so in the Latine .

( y ) Is a most easie , and gentle Letter , and softly hisseth against the teeth in the prolation . It is called the Serpents Letter , and the chiefe of the Consonants . It varieth the powers much in our pronunciation , as in the beginning of words it hath the sound of weake c. before Vomells , Dipthong , or Consonant : as , Salt . say . small . sell . shrik shift . soft . &c.

Sometime it inclineth to z. as in these , Muse . use . rose . nose . wise .

And the like : where the latter Vowell serves for the marke , or accent of the formers production .

So , after the Halfe-Vowells , or the obscure e. as in Bels. gems . we● . burs . Chimes . rimes . games .

Where the Vowell sits hard , it is commonly doubled .

( x ) Is sounded with the tongue striking the upper teeth , and hath one constant power , save where it precedeth ; and that followed by a Vowell ; as in Faction . action . generation . corruption .

Where it hath the force of s. or c.

( y ) Is rather an abbreviation , or way of short writing with us , then a Letter . For , it hath the sound of k. and s. It begins no word with us , that I know , but ends many : as Ax. kex . six . fox . box .

Which sound the same with these , Backs . knacks . knocks . locks . &c.

( z ) Is a Letter often heard amongst us , but seldome seene : borrow'd of the Greekes at first , being the same with ζ. and soundeth a double ss. with us it hath obtained another sound ; but in the end of words : as Muse . maze . nose . Hose . gaze . as .

Never in the beginning , save with rustick people , that have , zed . zay . zit . Zo. zome .

And the like , for Said . say . sit . so . some .

Or in the body of words indenison'd ; as azure . zeale . zephyre . &c.

( a ) Whether it be a Lerter or no , hath beene much examined by the Ancients , and by some , too much , of the Greeke partie condemned , and throwne out of the Alphabet , as an Aspirate meerely , and in request only before Vowells in the beginning of words , and after x. where it added a strong Spirit , which the Welsh retaine after many Consonants . But , be it a Letter , or Spirit , we have great use of it in our tongue , both before , and after Vowells . And though I dare not say , she is , ( as I have heard one call her ) the Queene mother of Consonants : yet she is the life , and quickening of them .

Quare non est merita , ut à Pindaro diceretur 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Dionysius quoque cùm ipsum expellit , rejicitque ad Serpentes , maluit canem irritatam imitari , quàm arbores naturales susurros sequi . Scal.

Ram. Est Consonantium prima , & fortissima haec litera , ut agnoscit Terentianus . Vivida est haec inter omnes , atque densa litera . Sibilum facit dentibus verberatis . M. Cap.

Quotiès litera media Vocalium longarum , vel subjecta longis esset , geminabitur ; ut Caussa . Cassus . Quintil.

(x) T quâ superis dentibus intima est origo Summa satis est ad sonitum ferire linguâ . Teren. T appulsu linguae , dentibusque appulsis excuditur . M. Cap.

Latinè factio . actio . generatio . corruptio . vitium . otium . &c.

(y) X potestatem habet cs , & gs . ut ex . crux . & frux , appareat .

Quorum obliqui casus sunt Crucis & Frugis . Ram. in Gram. ex Varrone .

X quicquid c. & s. formavit , exsibilat . Capell .

Neque Latini , neque Nos illâ multùm utimur .

(z) Z verò idcircò Appius Claudius detestabatur ; quòd dentes mortui , dum exprimitur , imitatur . M. Capel .

ζ compendium duarum literarum est σ. δ. in unâ notâ , & compendium Orthographiae , non Prosodiae ; quia hîc in voce non una litera effertur , sed duae distinguntur . Compendium inelegantèr , & fallacitèr inventum . Sonus enim , notâ illâ significatus , in unam Syllabam non perpetuò concluditur , sed dividitur , aliquando . Ut in illo Plauti loco : Non Atticicissat , sed Sicilissat , pro 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , Graecis ; & ubi initium facit , est 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . non 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . sicuti 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , non 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . sed 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Ram. in lib. 2.

Nulli dubium est , faucibus emicet quod ipsis H litera , sive est nota , quae spiret anhelum . Ter. H , contractis paulùm faucibus , ventus exhalat .

Mar. Cap. Vocalibus aptè , sed & anteposita cunctis Hastas , Hederas , quùm loquor , Hister . Hospes . Hujus . Solùm patitur quatuor ante Consonantes , Graecis quotiès nominibus Latina forma est , Si quando Choros . Phillida . Rhamnes . Thima . dico . Rectè quidem in hâc parte Graecissant nostri Walli . Smithus .

H. verò 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , aspiratio vocatur . Est enim omnium literarum spirituosissima , vel spiritus potiùs ipse . Nullius , aut quàm minimùm egens officii eorum , quae modò nomina vimus instrumenta literarum formandarum .

H. extrinsecus ascribitur Vocalibus , ut minimum sonet , Consonantibus autem intrinsecus , ut plurimùm .

( b ) Omnis litera , sive vox , plus sonat ipsa sese , cùm postponitur , quàm cùm anteponitur . Quod Vocalibus accidens esse videtur : nec si tollatur ea , perit etiàm vis significationis : ut , si dicam Erennius , absque aspiratione , quamvis vitium videar facere , intellectus tumen integer permanet . Consonantibus autem , si cohaeret , ut ejusdem penitus substantiae sit , & si auferatur , significationis vim minuat prorsùs : ut , si dicam Cremes , pro Chremes . Undè hâc consideratâ ratione , Graecorum doctissimi singulas fecêrunt eas quoque literas , ut pro th . θ. pro ph. φ pro chi . χ Ram.

( c ) Sonum illius g. quaerant , quibus ità libet scribere : aures profectò meae nunquam in his vocibus sonitum ȣ . g. poterant haurire .

Smithus de rect . & emend .

( d ) Litera φ. apud Graecos P. aspirata .

( e ) Si quis error in literis ferendus est , cùm corrigi queat , nusquàm in ullo sono tolerabilior est , quàm in hoc , si scribatur Sh. & in ƿ. si scribatur per th . Namhae duae quandam violentiam grandiorem spiritus in proferendo requirunt , quàm coeterae literae . ibid.

( f ) Hâc literâ sive charactêre , quam spinam , id est , porne , nostri Proavi appellabant : Avi nostri , & qui proximè ante librorum impressionem vixêrunt , sunt abusi , ad omnia ea scribenda , quae nunc magno Magistrorum errore per th . scribimus : ut ,

þ e. þ ou . þ at . þ em . þ eefe . þick .

Sed ubi mollior exprimebatur fonus , supernè scribebant ; ubi durior , in eodem sulco : molliorem appello illum , quem Anglo-Saxones per ð. Duriorem , quem per ƿ. exprimebant . Nam illud Saxonum ð. respondet illi sono , quem vulgaris Graeca lingua facit , quando pronunciant suum δ. aut Hispani d. literam suam molliorem , ut cùm veritatem , verdad appellant . Spina autem illa ƿ. videtur referre prorsùs Graecorum θ. At th . sonum θ. non rectè dat . Nam fi θ. non esset alia deflexio vocis , nisi aspirationis additae , aequè facile fuit Graecis 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . aspirationem adjungere , quàm 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 .

What her powers are before Vowells and Dipthongs , will appeare in hal . heale . hill . hot . how . hew . hoiday . &c.

In some it is written , but sounded without power : as host . honest . humble .

Where the Vowell is heard without the Aspiration , ost . onest . umble .

After the Vowell it sounds ; as in ah , and oh .

Beside , it is coupled with divers Consonants , where the force varies , and is particularly to be examin'd .

Wee will begin with Ch.

( b ) Hath the force of the Greeke χ. or χ. in many words derived from the Greeke : as in Charact. Christian . Chronicle . Archangel . Monarch .

In meere English words , or fetch'd from the Latine the force of the Italian c. Chaplaine . chast . chest . chops . chin . chuf . churle .

( c ) Is only a piece of ill writing with us : if we could obtaine of Custome to mend it , it were not the worse for our Language , or us : for the g. sounds just nothing in trough . cough . might . night . &c.

Only , the writer was at leisure , to adde a superfluous Letter , as there are too many in our Pseudographie .

( d ) Are used only in Greeke infranchis'd words : as Philip. Physick . Rhetorick . Rhodes . &c.

( e ) Is meerely English ; and hath the force of the Hebrew ש . shin , or the French ch . as in shake . shed . shine . show . shrinke . rush . blush .

( f ) Hath a double , and doubtfull sound , which must be found out by use of speaking ; sometimes like the Greeke θ. as in thief . thing . lengthen . strengthen . loveth . &c.

In others , like their δ. or the Spanish d. as this . that . then . thence . those . bathe . bequeath .

And in this consists the greatest difficultie of our Alphabet , and true writing : since wee have lost the Saxon Characters ð. and ƿ. that distinguished the the ðe . þick . ðou. þin . from ðine . þred . ðo . þrive .

Hath beene inquir'd of in w. and this for the Letters .

CHAP. V. Of the Dipthongs .

(g) DIpthongs are the complexions , or couplings of Vowells , when the two Letters send forth a joynt sound , so as in one Syllabe both sounds be heard : as in Ai. or Ay. Aide . maide . said . pay . day . way . Au. or Aw . audience . author . aunt . law . saw . draw . Ea. Earle . Pearle . meate . seate . sea . flea .

To which adde Yea , and plea ; and you have at one view all our words of this termination .

Ei . sleight . streight . weight . theirs . peint . feint . Ew . Few . strew . dew . anew . Oi . or , Oy . Point . joynt . soile . koile . joy . toy . boy . OO . good . food . moode . brood . &c. Ou. or , Ow. rout . stout . how . now . bow . low . Vi. or , Vy . buye . or buie . juice . or juyce .

These nine are all I would observe : for to mention more , were but to perplexe the Reader . The Oa . and Ee. will be better supplied in our Orthographie by the accenting e. in the end : as in bróde . lóde . cóte . bóte . quéne . séne .

Neither is the double ee . to be thought on , but in derivatives ; as trees , sees , and the like : where it is as two Syllabes . And for eo . it is found but in three words in our tongue .

Yeoman . people . jeopard .

Which were truer written Ye-man . péple . jépard .

And thus much shall suffice for the Dipthongs .

The Tripthong is of a complexion , rather to be fear'd then lov'd : and would fright the young Grammarian to see him . I therefore let him passe , and make haste to the notion .

CHAPTER . VI. Of the Syllabes .

A Syllabe is a part of a word , that may of it selfe make a perfect sound ; and is sometimes of one only letter , sometimes of more .

Of one , as in every first Vowell in these words : a. abated . e. ecclipsed . i. imagin'd . o. omitted . u. usurped .

A Syllabe of more letters is made , either of Vowells only , or of Consonants joyned with Vowells . Of Vowells only , as the Dipthongs Ai. in Aiton . Ayding . Au. in Austere . Audients . Ea. in Easy . Eating . Ei . in Eirie of Hawkes . Ew . in Ewer . &c. and in the Tripthong Yea.

Of the Vowells mixt ; sometimes but with one Consonant , as to : sometimes two , as try : sometimes three , as best : or foure , as nests : or five , as stumps : other-while sixe , as the latter Syllabe in re-straints . At the most they can have but seven , as strengths .

Some Syllabes , as The. then . there . that . with . and. which .

Are often compendiously , and shortly written : as ye. y en . y ere . yt. w th . & which .

Which , whoso list may use : but Orthographie commands it not . A man may forbeare it , without danger of falling into Premunire .

Here order would require to speake of the Quantitie of Syllabes , their speciall Prerogative among the Latines and Greekes : whereof so much as is constant , and derived from Nature , hath beene handled already . The other which growes by Position , and placing of letters , as yet ( not through default of our Tongue , being able enough to receive it , but our owne carelesnesse , being negligent to give it ) is ruled by no Art . The principall cause whereof seemeth to be this ; because our Verses and Rythmes ( as it is almost with all other people , whose Language is spoken at this day ) are naturall , and such whereof Aristotle speaketh , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , that is , made of a naturall , and voluntarie composition , without regard to the Quantitie of Syllabes .

This would aske a larger time and field , then is here given , for the examination : but since I am assigned to this Province ; that it is the lot of my age , after thirty yeares conversation with men , to be elementarius Senex : I will promise , and obtaine so much of my selfe , as to give , in the heele of the booke , some spurre and incitement to that which I so reasonably seeke . Not that I would have the vulgar , and practis'd way of making , abolish'd and abdicated , ( being both sweet and delightfull , and much taking the eare ) but , to the end our Tongue may be made equall to those of the renowned Countries , Italy , and Greece , touching this particular . And , as for the difficultie , that shall never withdraw , or put me off , from the Attempt : For , neither is any excellent thing done with ease , nor the compassing of this any whit to be despaired : Especially , when Quintilian hath observ'd to me , by this naturall Rythme , that we have the other Artificiall , as it were by certaine Markes , and footing , was first traced , and found out . And the Grecians themselves before Homer , as the Romans likewise before Livius Andronicus , had no other Meters . Thus much therefore shall serve to have spoken concerning the Parts of a Word , in a Letter , and a Syllabe .

It followeth to speake of the common affections , which unto the Latines , Greekes , and Hebrewes , are two ; the Accent , and Notation . And first

CHAPTER VII . Of the Accent

THe Accent ( which unto them was a tuning of the voyce , in lifting it up , or letting it downe ) hath not yet obtained with us any signe ; which notwithstanding were most needfull to be added ; not wheresoever the force of an Accent lieth , but where for want of one , the word is in danger to be mis-tuned : as in abásed . excéssive . besóted , obtéine . ungódly . surrénder .

But the use of it will be seene much better by collation of words , that according unto the divers place of their Accent , are diversly pronounc'd , and have divers significations . Such are the words following , with their like ; as differ , différ , désert , desért , présent . presént . réfuse , refúse . óbject , objéct . íncense , incénse . cónvert , convért . tórment , tormént . &c.

In originall Nounes Adjective , or Substantive , derived according to the rule of the writer of Analogie , the Accent is intreated to the first : as in fátherlinesse . mótherlinesse . péremptory . háberdasher .

Likewise , in the Adverbs : brótherly . sísterly .

All Nounes Dissyllabick , simple in the first ; as béleefe . hónor . crédit . sílver . súrety .

All Nounes trissyllabick , in the first : coúntenance , jéopardye . &c.

All Nounes compounded in the first , of how many Syllabes soever they be : as Ténnis-court-keeper . Chímney-sweeper .

Words simple in able , draw the Accent to the first , though they be of foure Syllabes : as Sóciable . tólerable .

When they be compounded , they keepe the same Accent : as insóciable . intólerable .

But in the way of comparison , it altereth thus : Some men are sóciable , some ínsociable ; some tólerable , some íntolerable . For , the Accent sits on the Syllabe that puts difference : as Sincerity . insincerity .

Nounes ending in tion , or sion ; are accented in antepenultimâ : as condition , infúsion . &c.

In ty , à Latinis , in antepenultimâ : as vérity . chárity . simplícity .

In ence , in antepenultimâ : as péstilence . ábstinence . sústenance . cónsequence .

All Verbes dissyllabes , ending in er . el. ry . and ish . accent in prima : as cóver , cáncel . cárry . búry . lévy . rávish . &c.

Verbes made of Nounes , follow the Accent of the Nounes : as to blánket . to básquet .

All Verbes comming from the Latine , either of the Supine , or otherwise ; hold the Accent , as it is found in the first person present of those Latine Verbes : as from ánimo . ánimate . célebro , célebrate .

Except words compound of facio : as liquefácio , liquefí .

And of statuo . constítuo , constitúte .

All variations of Verbes hold the Accent in the same place , as the Theme , I ánimate : thou ánimatest . &c.

And thus much shall serve to have opened the fountaine of Orthographie . Now let us come to the notation of a word .

CHAPTER . VIII . The Notation of a Word

IS , when the originall thereof is sought out , and consisteth in two things ; the Kind , and the Figure .

The Kind is to know , whether the word bee a Primitive , Genus . or Derivative , as Man . love

Are Primitives : Manly . lover

Are Derivatives .

The Figure is to know , whether the word bee simple , or compounded ; Figura . as , learned . say

Are simple : unlearned . gain-say are compounded .

Compositio . In which kind of composition , our English tongue is above all other very hardy ,

Saepè tria coagmen : Nom.

A foot-ball-plaier .

A Tennis-court-keeper .

Saepissimè duo Substant : ut Hand-ker-chif . Rain-bow . Ey-sore . Table-napkin . Head-ach . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Substantivum cum verbo :

Wood-bind .

Prouomen cum Subslantivo : ut Self-love . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . self-freedome 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Verbum cum Substantivo : ut a Puff-checke 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Draw-well . Draw-bridge . Adjectivum cum Substantivo : ut

New-ton . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 .

Handi-craft . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Adverbium cum Substantivo : ut Downfall .

Adverbium cum Participio : ut

Vp-rising . Downe-lying .

and happy ; joyning together , after a most eloquent manner , sundry words of every kind of Speech : as Mil-horse . lip-wise . self-love . twy-light . there-about . not-with-standing . by-cause . cut-purse . never-the-lesse .

These are the common affections of a word : His divers sorts now follow . A word is of Number , or without Number . Of Number , that word is termed to be , which signifieth a number singular , or plurall .

Singular , which expresseth one only thing : as tree . bookes . teachers .

Againe , a word of number is finite , or infinite . Finite , which varieth his number with certaine ends ; as man . run . horse .

Infinite , which varieth not ; as true . strong running .

Moreover , a word of number is a Noune , or a Verbe . But , here it were fit , we did first number our Words , or parts of Speech , of which our Language consists .

CHAP. IX . Of the Parts of Speech .

IN our English speech , we number the same parts with the Latines . Noune . Pronoune . Verbe . Participle . Adverbe . Conjunction . Praeposition . Interjection .

Only , we adde a ninth , which is the Article : And that is two-fold , Finite . as The. Infinite . as A.

The finite is set before Nounes Appellatives : as The Horse . The Tree . The Earth . or specially The nature of the Earth .

Proper Names , and Pronounes refuse Articles , but for Emphasis sake : as The Henry of Henries . The only Hee of the Towne .

Where Hee stands for a Noune , and signifies Man .

The Infinite hath a power of declaring , and designing uncertaine , or infinite things : as A man . A house .

This Article A. answers to the Germane Ein . or the French , or Italian Articles , deriv'd from one , not Numerall , but Prepositive : as A House . Ein Hause . Un Maison . Una Casa .

The is put to both numbers , and answers to the Dutch Article Der. die . das .

Save , that it admits no inflexion .

CHAP. X. Of the Noune .

ALL Nounes are words of Number , Singular , or Plurall . They are common . proper . personall . And are all Substantive . or , Adjective .

Their Accidents are , Gender . Case . Declension .

Of the Genders there are sixe . First , the Masculine , 1. Masculine . which comprehendeth all Males , or what is understood under a Masculine species : as Angels , Men , Starres : and ( by Prosopaeia ) the Moneth's , winds , almost all the Planets . Second , the Feminine , which compriseth Women , and femal species : 2. Feminine . I'lands . Countries . Cities .

And some Rivers with us : as Severne , Avon , &c.

Third , the Neuter , or feined Gender : 3. Neuter . whose notion conceives neither Sexe ; under which are compriz'd all inanimate things ; a ship excepted : of whom we say , shee sayles well , though the name be Hercules , or Henry , the Prince . As Terence call'd his Comedie Eunuchus , per vocabulum Artis .

Fourth , the Promiscuous , or Epicene , which understands both kindes : 4. Epicene . especially , when we cannot make the difference ; as , when we call them Horses , and Dogges , in the Masculine , though there be Bitches , and Mares amongst them . So to Fowles for the most part , we use the Feminine , as of Eagles , Hawkes ; we say , shee flies well ; and call them Geese , Ducks , and Doves , which they flye at .

Fift , the Common , or rather Doubtfull gender , wee use often , 5. Doubtfull . and with elegance : as in Cosin , Gossip , friend , Neighbour , Enemie , Servant , Theefe , &c.

When they may be of either Sexe .

Sixt , is the Common of three Genders : 6. Common of three . by which a Noune is divided into Substantive , and Adjective . For a Substantive is a Noune of one only Gender , or ( at the most ) of two . And an Adjective is a Noune of three Genders , being alwayes infinite .

CHAP. XI . Of the Diminution of Nounes .

THe common Affection of Nounes is Diminution . A Diminutive is a Noune , noting the diminution of his Primitive .

The diminution of Substantives hath these foure divers terminations : Ell , part , parcell . cocke , cockrell . Et , capon , caponet . poke , poket . Baron , Baronet . Ock , Hill , hillock . Bull , bullock . Ing , Goose , gosling . Duck , duckling .

So from the Adjective , Deare , darling .

Many Diminutives there are , which rather be abusions of speech , then any proper English words . And such for the most part are Mens , and Womens Names : Names , which are spoken in a kind of flatterie , especially among familiar friends and lovers : as Richard , Dick. William , Will . Margery , Madge . Mary , Mal.

Diminution of Adjectives is in this one end , ish : as White , Whitish . Greene , greenish .

After which manner certain Adjectives of likenesse are also formed from their Substantives : as Divel , divelish . Theefe , theevish . Coult , coultish . Elf , elvish .

Some Nounes steale the forme of Diminution , which neither in signification shew it , nor can derive it from a Primitive : as Gibbet . Doublet . peevish .

CHAP. XII . Of Comparisons .

THese then are the common Affections , both of Substantives , and Adjectives : there follow certaine other , not generall to them both , but proper and peculiar to each one . The proper affection therefore of Adjectives is Comparison ; of which , after the Positive , there be two degrees reckoned , namely , the Comparative , and the Superlative .

The Comparative is a degree declared by the Positive , with this Adverbe more ; as Wiser , more wise .

The Superlative is declared by the Positive with this Adverbe most : as Wisest , most wise .

Both which degrees are formed of the Positive : the Comparative , by putting to er : the Superlative by putting to est : as in these examples : Learned , learneder , learnedest . Simple , simpler , simplest . Trew , trewer , trewest . Black , blacker , blackest .

From this generall rule a few speciall words are excepted : as Good . better . best . Ill. worse . worst . Little . lesse . least . Much. more . most .

Many Words have no comparison ; as Reverend . Puissant . Victorious . Renowned .

Other have both degrees ; but lacke the Positive : as former . formost .

Some are formed of Adverbs : as Wisely . wiselier . wiseliest . Justly . justlier . justliest .

Certaine Comparisons , forme out of themselves : as Lesse . lesser . Worse . worser .

CHAP. XIII . Of the First Declension .

ANd thus much concerning the proper Affection of Adjectives : The proper Affection of Substantives followeth : And that consisteth in Declining .

A Declension is the varying of a Noune Substantive into divers terminations . Where besides the Absolute , there is , as it were a Genitive Case , made in the Singular number by putting to s.

Of Declensions there be two kindes : the first maketh the Plurall of the Singular , by adding thereunto s. as Tree . Trees . Thing . things . Steeple . Steeples .

So with s. by reason of the neere affinitie of these two Letters , whereof we have spoken before : Parke , Parkes . Bucke , Buckes . Dwarfe , Dwarfes . Path , pathes .

And in this first Declension , the Genitive plurall is all one with the plurall absolute .

Singular Father . Father . Plur. Fathers . Fathers .

Generall exceptions : Nounes ending in z. s. sh. g. and ch. in the declining take to the genitive singular i. and to the plurall e. as Sing . Prince , Princes . Plur. Princes . Princes .

So , rose . bush . age . breech . &c. Which distinctions , not observed , brought in first the monstrous Syntaxe of the Pronoune , his , joyning with a Noune , betokening a Possessor ; as , the Prince his house ; for , the Princes house .

Many words ending in Dipthongs , or Vowells , take neither Z. nor s. but only change their Dipthongs or Vowells , retaining their last Consonant : as Mouse . Mice , or Meece . Louse . Lyce , or Leece . Goose , Geece . Foot , Feet . Tooth . Teeth .

Exception of number : Some Nounes of the first Declension lacke the Plurall : as Rest . Gold . Silver . Bread .

Other the Singular : as Riches . Goods .

Many being in their principall signification Adjectives are here declined , and in the Plurall stand in stead of Substantives : as Other , others . One , ones . Hundred , hundreds . Thousand , thousands . Necessarie , necessaries : and such like .

CHAPTER XIIII . Of the second Declension .

THe second Declension formeth the Plurall from the Singular , by putting to n. which notwithstanding it have not so many Nounes , as hath the former , yet lacketh not his difficultie , by reason of sundry exceptions , that cannot easily be reduced to one generall head . Of this former are , Oxe , Oxen. Hose , Hosen .

Exceptions . Man , and Woman , by a contraction make men and women , or wemen , in stead of manen and womenen . Cow , makes Kine , or keene : Brother , for Bretheren , hath Brithren , and Brethern . Child formeth the plurall by adding r. besides the root ; for we say not childen , which according to the Rule given before , is the right formation ; but childern , because that sound is more pleasant to the eares .

Here the genitive plurall is made by adding s. unto the Absolute : as Sing . childe childes . Plur. childern . childerns .

Exceptions from both Declensions : Some Nounes have the plurall of both Declensions : as House . houses . housen . Eye . eyes . eyen . Shoo. shooes . shooen .

CHAPTER . XV. Of Pronounes .

A Few irregular Nounes , varying from the generall precepts , are commonly termed Pronounes : whereof the first foure in stead of the Genitive have an Accusative case : as .

I. Me. You. or Yee . Plur. We. Us. Thou . Thee .

Hee . shee . That . All three make in the Plurall , They. Them .

Foure Possessives : My , or Myne . Plurall : Our , ours . Thy , thine . Plurall , Your , yours . His , Hers , both in the plurall making , Their , theirs : As many Demonstratives . This , plurall , These . That , plurall Those : yonne , or yonder same .

Three Interrogatives , whereof one requiring both Genitive , and Accusative , and taken for a Substantive : who ? whose ? whom ? The other two Infinite , and Adjectively used , what . whether .

Two Articles in gender , and number infinite , which the Latines lacke : A. The.

One Relative , which : One other signifying a Reciprocation , self . pl. selves .

Composition of Pronounes is more common : My-self . our-selves . Thy-self . your-selves . Him-self . Plurall : Them-selves . Her-self . Plurall : Them-selves . It-self . Plurall : Them-selves .

This-same , that-same . yonne-same , yonder-same , self-same .

CHAP. XVI . Of a Verbe .

HItherto we have declared the whole Etymologie of Nounes : which in easinesse , and shortnesse , is much to be preferred before the Latines , and the Grecians . It remaineth with like brevitie , if it may be , to prosecute the Etymologie of a Verbe . A Verbe is a word of number , which hath both Tyme , and Person . Tyme is the difference of a Verbe , by the present , past , and future , or to come . A Verbe finite therefore hath three only Tymes , and those alwayes imperfect .

The first is the present : as Amo , Love .

The second is the Tyme past : as Amabam , loved .

The third is the Future : as Ama , amato : Love , love .

The other Tymes both imperfect : as Amem , amarem , amabo .

And also perfect : as Amavi , amaverim , amaveram , Amavissem , amavero .

Wee use to expresse by a Syntaxe , as shall be seene in the proper place .

The future is made of the present , and is the same alwayes with it .

Of this future ariseth a Verbo infinite , keeping the same termination : as likewise of the present , and the Tyme past , are formed the Participle present by adding of ing : as Love , loving .

The other is all one with the Tyme past .

The Passive is expressed by a Syntaxe , like the tymes going before , as hereafter shall appeare .

A Person is the speciall difference of a verball number , whereof the present , and the Tyme past , have in every number three .

The second , and third person singular of the present are made of the first , by adding est , and eth ; which last is sometime shortned into z. or s.

The tyme past is varied , by adding in like manner in the second person singular est : and making the third like unto the first .

The future hath but only two persons ; the second , and the third , ending both alike .

The persons Plurall , keepe the termination of the first person Singular . In former times , till about the reigne of King Henry the eighth , they were wont to be formed , by adding en : thus , Loven . sayen . complainen .

But now ( whatsoever is the cause ) it hath quite growne out of use , and that other so generally prevailed , that I dare not presume to set this a-foot againe . Albeit , ( to tell you my opinion ) I am perswaded , that the lacke hereof well considered , will be found a great blemish to our tongue . For , seeing time , and person be , as it were , the right , and left hand of a Verbe ; what can the mayming bring else , but a lamenesse to the whole body ?

And by reason of these two differences , a Verbe is divided two manner of wayes . First , in respect of persons , it is called personall , or impersonall . Personall , which is varied by three persons : as Love , lovest , loveth .

Impersonall , which onely hath the third person : as behoveth . yrketh .

Secondly , in consideration of the times , we terme it active , or neuter : Active , whose Participle past may be joyned with the Verbe am : as , I am loved . Thou art hated .

Neuter , which cannot be so coupled : as Pertaine . Dye . Live .

This therefore is the generall forming of a Verbe , which must to every speciall one hereafter be applied .

CHAP. XVII . Of the first Conjugation .

THe varying of a Verbe by persons , and times , both finite , and infinite , is termed a Conjugation . Whereof there bee two sorts . The first fetcheth the time past from the present , by adding ed : and is thus varyed Pr. Love , lovest , loveth . Pa. Loved , loved'st , loved . Fu. Love , love . Pl. Love , love , love . Pl. Loved , loved , loved . Pl. Love , love . Inf. Love . Part. pr. Loving . Part. past . Loved .

Verbes are oft-times shortned : as Sayest , sest. would , woud . should , shoud . holpe , hope .

But , this is more common in the leaving out of e. as Loved'st , for lovedest . Rubbed , rub'd . tookest , took'st .

Exception of the time-past , for ed. have t. as Licked , lick't . leaved , left . Gaped , gap't . Blushed , blush't .

Where Verbes ending with d. for avoyding the concourse of two many Consonants , doe cast it away : as Lend , lent . Spend , spent . Gyrd , gyrt .

Make by a rare contraction is here turned into Made . Many Verbes in the time past vary not at all from the present : such are Cast. hurt . cost . burst . &c.

CHAP. XVIII . Of the second Conjugation .

ANd so much for the first Conjugation ; being indeed the most usuall forming of a Verbe , and thereby also the common Inne to lodge every strange , and forraine guest . That which followeth for any thing , I can find ( though I have with some diligence searched after it , ) intertaineth none , but naturall , and home-borne words , which though in number they be not many , a hundred and twenty , or thereabouts ; yet in variation are so divers , and uncertaine , that they need much the stampe of some good Logick , to beat them into proportion . We have set downe that , that in our judgement agreeth best with reason , and good order . Which , notwithstanding , if it seeme to any to be too rough hewed , let him plane it out more smoothly , and I shall not only not envy it , but , in the behalfe of my Countrey , most heartily thanke him for so great a benefit ; hoping that I shall be thought sufficiently to have done my part , if in towling this Bell , I may draw others to a deeper consideration of the matter : for touching my selfe , I must needs confesse , that after much painfull churning , this only would come , which here we have devised .

The second Conjugation therefore turneth the present into the time past , by the only change of his Letters , namely of Vowells alone , or Consonants also .

Verbes changing Vowells only , have no certaine termination of the Participle past , but derive it as well from the present , as the time past , and that otherwhile differing from either , as the examples following do declare .

The change of Vowells is , either of simple Vowells , or of Dipthongs ; whereof the first goeth by the order of Vowells , which we also will observe .

An a. is turned into oo . Pres . Shake , shakest , shaketh . Past . Shooke , shookest , shooke . Fut. Shake , shake . Inf. Shake. Part. pre . Shaking . Part. pa. Shaken . Plur. Shake , shake , shake . Pl. Shooke , shooke , shooke . Plur. Shake , shake .

This forme doe the Verbes , take , wake , forsake , and hang , follow , but hang , in the time past maketh hung ; not , hangen .

Hereof the Verb , am , is a speciall exception , being thus varyed :

Pr. Am , art , is . Pl. are , are , are ; or , Be , be , be , of the unused word , Bee , beëst , beëth , in the singular .

Past . Was , wast , was . or , Were , wert , were . Fut. Be , be . Inf. Be. Part. pr. Being . Part. past . Bene. Ea. maketh first e. short : Pl. Were , were , were . Plur. Be , be . Pr. Leade . Past . Ledde . Part. pa. Ledde .

The rest of the times and persons , both singular , and plurall in this , and the other Verbs that follow , because they jumpe with the former examples , and rules , in every point , we have chosen rather to omit , then to thrust in needlesse words .

Such are the Verbs , eate , beate , ( both making Participles past : besides eete , and bette ; eaten , and beaten ) spread , shead , dreade , sweate , shreade , treade .

Then a , or o. indifferently ; Pr. Breake . Past . Brake , or broke . Par. pa. Broke , or broken .

Hither belong , speake , sweare , teare , cleave , weare , steale , beare , sheare , weave . So , gett , and helpe : but halpe , is seldome used , save with the Poëts .

i. is changed into a. Pr. give . Past . gave . Par. pa. given .

So , bid , and sit .

And here sometimes i. is turned into a. and o. both . Pr. Winne . Past . Wanne , or Wonne . Par. pa. Wonne .

Of this sort are fling , ring , wring , sing , sting , stick , spinne , strick , drinke , sinke , spring , begin , stinke , shrinke , swing , swimme .

Secondly , long i. into e. Pr. reede . Pa. read . Par. pa. read .

Also feed , meet , breed , bleed , speed .

Then into o. Pr. Seeth . Pa. sodde . Par. pa. sodde , or sodden .

Lastly , it makes , aw : Pr. see . Pa. saw . Par. Pa. seene .

O. hath a. Pr. come . Pa. came . Par. Pa. come .

And here it may besides keepe his proper Vowell .

Pr. runne . Pa. ranne , or runne . Par. pa. runne .

oo . maketh o.

Pr. choose . Pa. chose . Par. pa. chosen .

And one more , shoote , shotte , in the Participle . past . shott , or shotten .

Some pronounce the Verbs by the Dipthong , ew . chewse , shewte , and that is Scottish-like .

CHAP. XIX . Of the third Conjugation .

THe change of Dipthongs is of ai . and y. or aw . and ow. All which are changed into ew . ai . Pr. Slay . Pa. slew . Par. pa. slaine . y. Pr. Fly . Pa. flew . Par. pa. flyne , or flowne . aw . Pr. draw . Pa. drew . Par. pa. drawne . ow. Pr. know . Pa. knew . Par. pa. knowne .

This forme commeth oftener , then the three former : snow , grow , throw , blow , crow .

Secondly , y. is particularly turned , sometimes into the Vowells i. and o. i. Pr. Byte . Pa. Bitte . Par. pa. Bitte , or bitten .

Likewise , hyde , quyte , chyde , stride , slyde .

o. Pr. Hyght . Pa. Hoght . Par. pa. Hoght .

So , Shine , strive , thrive .

And , as Y. severally frameth either ; so may it joyntly have them both : Pr. Ryse . Past . Rise , or rose . Par. pa. Rise , or risen .

To this kind pertaine : Smyte , wryte , byde , ryde , clyme , dryve , clyve .

Sometimes , into the Dipthongs , ai , and ou . ai . Pr. Lye . Pa. lay . Par. pa. lyne , or layne . ou . Pr. Fynd . Pa. found . Par. pa. found .

So , bynde , grynde , wynde , fyght .

Last of all ; aw , and ow ; doe both make e.

aw . Pr. Fall . Past . fell . Par. pa. fallen .

Such is the Verbe , fraught : which Chaucer in the Man of Lawes tale : This Merchants have done , freight their ships new . ou . Pr. Howld . Pa. Held . Par. pa. Held , or howlden .

Exceptions of the Time past .

Some that are of the first Conjugation , only have in the Participle past , besides their owne , the forme of the second , and the third : as Hew , hewed , and hewne . Mow , mowed , and mowen . Load , loaded , and loaden .

CHAP. XX. Of the fourth Conjugation .

VErbs that convey the Time past for the present , by the change both of Vowells and Consonants , following the terminations of the first Conjugation , end in d. or t.

Pr. Stand. Pa. Stood .

Such are these words , Pr. Wolle . wolt . wolle . Pa. wolde , or woulde . wouldest , would . Fut. wolle . woll .

The infinite Times are not used : Pr. Can , canst , can . Pa. * * An old Enlish word , for which now we commonly use , shall , or shawll . Colde , or could . Pr. Sholle . sholt . sholl . Pa. Sholde , or shoulde .

The other Times of either Verbe are lacking .

Pr. Heare . Pa. Heard . Pr. Sell. Pa. Sold. So , Tell , told .

Of the other sort are these , and such like : Pr. Feele . Pa. felt .

So , creepe , sleepe , weepe , keepe , sweepe , meene . Pr. Teach . Pa. Taught .

To this forme belong : thinke , retch , seake , reach , catch , bring , worke ; and buy , and owe , which make , bought , and ought .

Pr. Dare , darest , dare . Pa. Durst , durst , durst . Pr. May , mayst , may . Pa. Might , mightest , might .

These two Verbs want the other Times .

A generall exception from the former Conjugations . Certaine Verbs have the forme of either Conjugation : as Hang , hanged , and hung . Reach , reach't , and rought .

So , cleave , sheare , sting , clyme , cetch , &c.

CHAP. XXI . Of Adverbes .

THus much shall suffice for the Etymologie of Words , that have number , both in a Noune , and a Verbe : whereof the former is but short , and easie : the other longer , and wrapped with a great deale more difficultie . Let us now proceed to the Etymologie of words without number .

A Word without number is that , which without his principall signification noteth not any number . Whereof there be two kindes , an Adverbe , and a Conjunction .

An Adverb is a word without number , that is joyned to another word : as Well-learned . Hee fighteth valiantly . Hee disputeth very subtlely .

So that an Adverbe is as it were an Adjective of Nounes , Verbes ; yea , and Adverbs also themselves .

Adverbs are either of Quantitie , or Qualitie . Of Quantitie : as Enough . too-much . altogether .

Adverbs of Qualitie be of divers sorts :

First of Number : as Once . twice . thrice .

Secondly , of Time : as To day . yesterday . then . By , and by . ever . when .

Thirdly of Place : as Here. there . where . yonder .

Fourthly , in affirmation , or negation : as I. yes . indeed . no. not . nay .

Fiftly , in wishing , calling , and exhorting : wishing , as O. Yf.

Calling ; as , Ho. sirrah . Exhorting : as so , so . there , there .

Sixtly in similitude , and likenesse : as So. even so . Likewise , even as .

To this place pertaine Adverbs of qualitie whatsoever , being formed from Nounes , for the most part , by adding ly : as Just , justly . True , truly . Strong , strongly . Name , namely .

Here also Adjectives , as well positive , as compared stand for Adverbs : When he least weeneth , soonest shall he fall .

Interjections , commonly so termed , are in right Adverbs , and therefore may justly lay title to this roome . Such are these , that follow , with their like : as Ah. alas . wo. fie . tush . ha , ha , he . st . a note of silence . Rr. that serveth to set dogges together by the eares . Hrr , to chase birds away .

Prepositions are also a peculiar kind of Adverbs , and ought to be referred hither . Prepositions are separable , or inseparable . Separable are for the most part of Time , and Place : as Among . according . without . Afore . after . before . behind . Under . upon . beneath . over . Against . besides . neere .

Inseparable Prepositions are they , which signifie nothing , if they be not compounded with some other word : as .

re . un . in Release . unlearned .
CHAP. XXII . Of Conjunctions .

A Conjunction is a word without number , knitting divers speeches together : and is declaring , or reasoning . Declaring , which uttereth the parts of a Sentence : And that againe is gathering , or separating . Gathering , whereby the parts are affirmed to be true together , which is coupling , or conditioning . Coupling , when the parts are severally affirmed : as And. also . neither .

Conditioning , by which the part following dependeth , as true , upon the part going before ; as If. unlesse . except .

A separating conjunction is that , whereby the parts ( as being not true together ) are separated ; and is Severing , or , sundring .

Severing , when the parts are separated only in a certaine respect , or reason : as But. although . notwithstanding .

Sundring , when the parts are separated indeed , and truly , so as more then one cannot be true : as Either . whither . or .

Reasoning Conjunctions are those which conclude one of the parts by the other , whereof some render a reason ; and some doe inferre .

Rendring are such , as yeeld the cause of a thing going before : as For. because .

Inferring , by which a thing that commeth after , is concluded by the former : as Therefore . Wherefore . So that . insomuch that .

THE SECOND BOOKE , OF THE ENGLISH GRAMMAR . Of Syntaxe .
CHAP. I. Of Apostrophus .

AS yet we have handled Etymologie , and all the parts thereof . Let us come to the consideration of the Syntaxe .

Syntaxe is the second part of Grammar , that teacheth the Construction of words ; The Latines and Hebrewes have none . whereunto Apostrophus , an affection of words coupled , and joyned together , doth belong .

Apostrophus is the rejecting of a Vowell from the beginning , or ending of a Word . The note whereof , though it many times , through the negligence of Writers and Printers , is quite omitted , yet by right should , and of the learneder sort hath his signe and marke , which is such a Semi-circle ' placed in the top .

In the end a Vowell may be cast away , when the word next following beginneth with another : as Th' outward man decayeth : So th' inward man getteth strength . If ye ' utter such words of pure love , and friendship , What then may wee looke for , if ye ' once begin to hate ? Gower . lib. 1. de confess . Amant . If thou ' art of his company , tell forth , my sonne . It is time to ' awake from sleepe .

Vowells suffer also this Apostrophus before the Consonant h. Chaucer in the 3. Booke of Troilus . For of Fortunes sharpe adversitie , The worst kind of infortune is this : A man to ' have beene in prosperitie , And it to remember when it passed is .

The first kind then is common with the Greekes ; but that which followeth , is proper to us , which though it bee not of any , that I know , either in Writing , or Printing , usually express'd : Yet considering that in our common speech , nothing is more familiar , ( upon the which all Precepts are grounded , and to the which they ought to be referred ) who can justly blame me , if , as neere as I can , I follow Natures call .

This rejecting therefore , is both in Vowells , and Consonants , going before , Gower , lib. 4. There is no fire , there is no sparke , There is no dore , which may charke .

Who answered , that he was not privy to it , and in excuse seem'd to be very sore displeased with the matter , that his men of Warre had done it without his commandement , or consent .

CHAP. II. Of the Syntaxe of one Noune with another .

SYntaxe appertaineth , both to words of number , and without number , where the want , and superfluity of any part of speech are two generall , and common exceptions . Of the former kind of Syntaxe is that of a Noune ; and Verbe .

The Syntaxe of a Noune , with a Noune , is in number , and gender : as Esau could not obtaine his fathers blessing , though he sought it with teares . Jesabel was a wicked woman , for she slew the Lords Prophets . An Idol is no god , for it is made with hands .

In all these examples yee see Esau , and hee ; Jezabel , and shee ; Idol , and it , to agree in the singular number . The first example also in the Masculine gender : the second in the Feminine : the third , in the Neuter . And in this Construction ( as also throughout the whole English Syntaxe ) order , and the placing of words is one especiall thing to be observed . So that when a Substantive , and an Adjective , are immediatly joyned together , the Adjective must goe before : as Plato shut Poets out of his Common-wealth , as effeminate Writers , unprofitable members , and enemies to vertue .

When two Substantives come together , whereof one is the name of a Possessor , the other of a thing possessed , then hath the name of a Possessor the former place , and that in the Genitive : All mans righteousnesse is like a defiled cloth . Gower . lib. 1. An Owle flieth by night , Out of all other birds sight .

But if the thing possess'd goe before , then doth the Preposition of , come betweene : Ignorance is the mother of errour . Gower . lib. So that it proveth well therefore The strength of man is sone lore .

Which Preposition may be coupled with the thing possessed , being in the Genitive . Nort. in Arsan . A road made into Scanderbech's Countrey by the Duke of Mysia's men ; for the Dukes men of Mysia .

Here the absolute serveth sometimes in stead of a Genitive : All trouble is light , which is endured for righteousnesse sake .

Otherwise , two Substantives are joyned together by apposition ; Sir Thomas More in King Richards Storie : George Duke of Clarence , was à Prince at all points fortunate . Where if both be the names of Possessors , the latter shall be in the Genitive . Foxe in the 2. Volume of Acts and Monuments : King Henry the Eight , married with the Lady Katherine his Brother , Prince Arthurs wife .

The generall exceptions :

The Substantive is often lacking : Sir Thomas More .

Sometime without small things , greater cannot stand .

Chaucer . For some folke woll be wonne for riches , And some folke for strokes , and some folke for gentlenesse .

Likewise the Adjective : It is hard in prosperitie to preserve true Religion , true godlinesse , and true humilitie .

Lidgate , lib. 8. speaking of Constantine , That whilome had the divination As chiefe Monarch , chiefe Prince , and chiefe President Over all the world , from East to Occident .

In Greek , and Latine this want were barbarous : the Hebrewes notwithstanding use it . But the more notable lacke of the Adjectives is in the want of the relative ; In the things , which we least mistrust , the greatest danger doth often lurke . Gower , lib. 2. For thy the wise-men ne demen The things after that their they semen . But , after that , which they know , and finde . Ps. 118.22 . The stone , the builders refused . for , which the builders refused .

And here besides the common wanting of a Substantive , whereof we spake before ; there is another more speciall , and proper to the Absolute , and the Genitive .

Chaucer in the 3. booke of Fame . This is the mother of tydings , As the Sea is mother of Wells , and is mother of Springs . Rebecca clothed Jacob with garments of his brothers

Superfluity also of Nounes is much used : Sir Tho: More , whose death King Edward ( although he commanded it ) when he wist it was done , pitiously bewailed it , and sorrowfully repented it . Chaucer in his Prologue to the Man of Lawes tale . Such law , as a man yeveth another wight , He should himself usen it by right . Gower , l. 1. For , whoso woll another blame , Hee seeketh oft his owne shame .

Speciall exceptions , and first of Number . Two Singulars are put for our Plurall :

All Authority , and Custome of men , exalted against the word of God , must yeeld themselves prisoners .

Gower . In thine aspect are all alich , The poore man , and eke the rich .

The second Person plurall is for reverence sake to one singular thing : Gower , lib. 1. O good Father deare , Why make ye this heavie cheare .

Where also after a Verbe plurall , the singular of the Noune is reteined : I know you are a discreet , and faithfull man , and therefore am come to aske your advice .

Exceptions of Genders .

The Articles hee , and it , are used in each others Gender .

Sir Tho. More . The south wind sometime swelleth of himselfe before a tempest .

Gower of the earth . And for thy men it delve , and ditch , And earen it , with strength of plough : Where it hath of himselfe enough , So that his need is least .

It , also followeth for the Feminine : Gower , lib. 4. He swore it should nought be let , That , if she have a daughter bore , That it ne should be forlore .

CHAP. III. Of the Syntaxe of a Pronoune with a Noune .

THe Articles a. and the , are joyned to Substantives common never to proper names of men : William Lambert in the Perambulation of Kent .

The cause only , and not the death maketh a Martyr .

Yet , with a proper name used by a Metaphor , or borrowed manner of speech , both Articles may be coupled : Who so avoucheth the manifest , and knowne truth , ought not therefore to be called a Goliah , that is a monster , and impudent fellow , as he was .

Jewell against Harding : You have adventured your selfe to be the noble David , to conquer this Giant .

Nort. in Arsan . And if ever it were necessarie , now it is , when many an Athanasius , many an Atticus , many a noble Prince , and godly Personage lyeth prostrate at your feet for succour .

Where this Metaphor is expounded . So , when the proper name is used to note ones parentage , which kind of Nounes the Grammarians call Patronimicks : Nort. in Gabriells Oration to Scanderbech .

For you know well enough the wiles of the Ottomans . Perkin Warbeck , a stranger borne , fained himselfe to be a Plantaginet .

When a Substantive , and an Adjective are joyned together , these Articles are put before the Adjective : A good conscience is a continuall feast . Gower , lib. 1. For false semblant hath evermore Of his counsell in companie , The darke untrue Hypocrisie .

Which Construction in the Article , A , notwithstanding some Adjectives will not admit : Sir Tho: More . Such a Serpent is ambition , and desire of vain-glory . Chaucer . Under a Shepheard false , and negligent , The Wolfe hath many a Sheepe , and Lamb to rent .

Moreover , both these Articles are joyned to any cases of the Latines , the Vocative only excepted : as , A man saith . The strength of a man . I sent to a man . I hurt a man . I was sued by a man .

Likewise , the Apostle testifieth : The zeale of the Apostle ; Give eare to the Apostle : Follow the Apostle : Depart not from the Apostle .

So that in these two Pronounes the whole Construction almost of the Latines is contained . The , agreeth to any number : A , only to the singular , save when it is joyned with those Adjectives , which doe of necessitie require a Plurall : The Conscience is a thousand witnesses . Lidgate , lib. 1. Though for a season they sit in high cheares , Their fame shall fade within a few yeares .

A , goeth before words beginning with Consonants , and before all Vowells , ( Dipthongs , whose first letter is y. or w. excepted ) it is turn'd into An : Sir Tho: More :

For men use to write an evill turne in marble stone ; but a good turne they write in the dust .

Gower , lib. 1. For all shall dye ; and all shall passe As well a Lyon , as an Asse .

So may it be also before h.

Sir Tho: More . What mischiefe worketh the proud enterprize of an high heart .

A , hath also the force of governing before a Noune : Sir Tho. More :

And the Protector had layd to her for manner sake , that she was a Councell with the Lord Hastings to destroy him .

Chaucer , 2. booke of Troylus : And on his way fast homeward he sped , And Troylus he found alone in bed .

Likewise , before the Participle present , An , hath the force of a Gerund : Nort. in Arsan . But there is some great tempest a brewing towards us Lidgate , lib. 7. The King was staine , and ye did assent In a Forrest an hunting , when that he went .

The Article , The , joyned with the Adjective of a Noune proper may follow , after the Substantive : Chaucer . — Their Chaunticleer the faire Was wont , and eke his Wives to repaire .

Otherwise it varieth from the common Rule . Againe , this Article by a Synecdoche doth restraine a generall , and common name to some certaine and speciall one : Gower in his Prologue : The Apostle writeth unto us all , And saith , that upon us his fall , Th' end of the world . for Paul .

So by the Philosopher , Aristotle . By the Poet , among the Grecians , Homer : with the Latines , Virgill , is understood .

This , and that , being Demonstratives ; and what , the Interrogative , are taken for Substantives : Sir John Cheeke ; in his Oration to the Rebells : Ye rise for Religion : What Religion taught you that ? Chaucer , in the reves tale : And this is very sooth , as I you tell .

Ascham , in his Discourse of the Affaires of Germanie . A wonderfull folly in a great man himselfe , and some peece of miserie in a whole Common-wealth , where fooles chiefly , and flatterers , may speake freely what they will ; and good men shall commonly be shent , if they speake what they should .

What , also for an Adverbe of Partition :

Lambert . But now , in our memorie , what by decay of the haven , In th' other tongues , quid , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , have not the force of partition , nor illud 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , of a Relative . and what by overthrow of Religious Houses , and losse of Calice , it is brought in manner to miserable nakednesse , and decay .

Chaucer . 3. booke of Troilus : Then wot I well , shee might never faile For to beene holpen , what at your instance ? What at your other friends governance .

That , is used for a Relative :

Sir , John Cheeke . Sedition is an Aposteame , which , when it breaketh inwardly , putteth the State in great danger of Recovery ; and corrupteth the whole Common-wealth , with the rotten furie , that it hath putrefied with . For , with which

They , and those , are sometimes taken , as it were , for Articles : Fox , 2. Volume of Acts :

That no kind of disquietnesse should be procured against them of Bern , and Zurick .

Gower , lib. 2. My brother hath us all sold To them of Rome . —

The Pronoune , These , hath a rare use being taken for an Adjective of similitude : It is , neither the part of an honest man to tell these tales : nor if a wise man to receive them . Lidgate , lib. 5. Lo , how these Princes proud , and retchlesse , Have shamefull ends , which cannot live in peace .

Him , and Them , be used reciprocally for the Compounds , himselfe , themselves : Fox .

The Garrison desired , that they might depart with bagge , and baggage .

Chauncer in the Squires tale : So deepe in graine he dyed his colours , Right , as a Serpent hideth him under flowers .

His , their , and theirs , have also a strange use ; that is to say , being Possessives , they serve in stead of Primitives : Chaucer : And shortly so farre forth this thing went , That my will , was his wills instrument .

Which in Latine were a solecisme ; for there we should not say , suae voluntatis , but voluntatis ipsius .

Pronounes have not the Articles a , and the , going before which , the Relative , selfe , and same , only excepted : The same lewd cancred Carle , practiseth nothing , but how he may overcome , and oppresse the Faith of Christ , for the which , you , as you know , have determined to labour and travell continually .

The Possessives , My , thy , our , your , and their , goe before words : as , my land : thy goods ; and so in the rest : Myne , thyne , ours , yours , hers , and theirs , follow , as it were , in the Genitive case : as these lands are mine , thine , &c.

His , doth indifferently goe before , or follow after : as , his house is a faire one ; and , this house is his .

CHAP. IIII. Of the Syntaxe of Adjectives .

ADjectives of Qualitie are coupled with Pronounes Accusative cases :

Chaucer . And he was wise , hardy , secret , and rich , Of these three points , nas none him lych .

Certaine Adjectives include a Partition : From the head doth life and motion flow to the rest of the members .

The Latines Comparative governeth an Ablative ; their Superlative a Genitive plurall . The Greckes , both Comparative , and Superlative hath a Genitive ; but in neither tongue is a signe going betweene . The Comparative agreeth to the parts compared , by adding this Preposition , than : Chaucer , 3. booke of Fame .

What did this Aeolus , but he Tooke out his blacke trumpe of brasse , That blacker than the Divell was .

The Superlative is joyned to the parts compared by this Preposition , of : Gower , lib. 1. Pride is of every misse the prick : Pride is the worst vice of all wick . Jewell . The friendship of truth is best of all .

Oftentimes both Degrees are expressed by these two Adverbs , more , and most : as , more excellent , most excellent . Whereof the latter seemeth to have his proper place in those that are spoken in a certaine kind of excellencie , but yet without Comparison : Hector was a most valiant man ; that is , inter fortissimos .

Furthermore , these Adverbs , more , and most , are added to the Comparative , and Superlative degrees themselves , which should before the Positive : Sir Tho. More .

Forasmuch as she saw the Cardinall more readier to depart , then the remnant ; For , not only the high dignitie of the Civill Magistrate , but the most basest handycrafts are holy , when they are directed to the honour of God .

And , this is a certaine kind of English Atticisme , or eloquent Phrase of speech , imitating the manner of the most ancientest , and finest Grecians , who , for more emphasis , and vehemencies sake used to speake .

Positives are also joyned with the Preposition , of , like the Superlative : Elias was the only man of all the Prophets that was left alive . Gower . lib. 4. The first point of slouth I call Lachesse , and is the chiefe of all .

CHAPTER . V. Of the Syntaxe of a Verb with a Noune .

HItherto we have declared the Syntaxe of a Noune : The Syntaxe of a Verbe followeth , being either of Verbe with a Noune ; or , of one Verbe with another .

The Syntaxe of a Verbe with a Noune is in number , and person : as I am content . You are mis-inform'd . Chaucer 2. booke of Fame . For , as flame is but lighted smoke ; Right so is sound ayr ybroke .

I my selfe , and your selves , agree unto the first person : You , thou , it , thy selfe , your selves , to the second : All other Nounes and Pronounes ( that are of any person ) to the third : Againe , I , we , thou , he , she , they , who , doe ever governe : unlesse it be in the Verbe , am , that requireth the like case after it , as is before it , Mee , us , thee , her , them , him , whom , are govern'd of the Verbe . The rest , which are Absolute , may either governe , or bee governed .

A Verbe impersonall in Latine is here expressed by an English impersonall , with this Article , it , going before : as , oportet , it behoveth : decet , it becommeth . Generall Exceptions :

The person governing is oft understood by that went before : True Religion glorifieth them that honour it ; and is a target unto them that are a buckler unto it .

Chaucer . Womens counsells brought us first to woe , And made Adam from Paradise to goe .

But this is more notable , and also more common in the future ; wherein for the most part we never expresse any person , not so much as at the first :

Feare God . Honour the King .

Likewise the Verbe is understood by some other going before : Nort. in Arsan .

When the danger is most great , naturall strength most feeble , and divine ayde most needfull .

Certaine Pronounes , governed of the Verbe , doe here abound . Sir Thomas More . And this I say , although they were not abused , as now they be , and so long have beene , that I feare me ever they will be .

Chaucer , 3. booke of Fame : And as I wondred me , ywis Upon this house . Idem in This be : She rist her up with a full dreary heart : And in cave with dreadfull fate she start .

Speciall Exceptions .

Nounes signifying a multitude , though they be of the Singular number , require a Verbe plurall .

Lidgate , lib. 2. And wise men rehearsen in sentence Where folke be drunken , there is no resistance .

This exception is in other Nounes also very common ; especially when the Verbe is joyned to an Adverbe , or Conjunction : It is preposterous to execute a man , before he have beene condemned .

Gower , lib. 1. Although a man be wise himselve , Yet is the wisdome more of twelve . Chaucer : Therefore I read you this counsell take , Forsake sinne , ere sinne you forsake .

In this exception of number , the Verbe sometime agreeth not with the governing Noune of the plurall number , as it should , but with the Noune governed : as , Riches is a thing oft-times more hurtfull , then profitable to the owners . After which manner the Latines also speake : omnia pontus erat . The other speciall * * Which notwithstanding the Hebrewes use very strangely , Kullain tazubu uboüna , Job . 17.10 . All they returne ye and come now . exception is not in use .

CHAP. VI. Of the Syntaxe of a Verbe , with a Verbe .

WHen two Verbes meet together , whereof one is governed by the other , the latter is put in the infinite , and that with this signe to , comming betweene ; as Good men ought to joyne together in good things .

But , will , doe , may , can , shall , dare , ( when it is in Transitive ) must , and lett , when it signifieth a sufferance , receive not the signe :

Gower . To God no man may be fellow .

This signe set before an infinite , not govern'd of a Verbe , changeth it into the nature of a Noune .

Nort. in Arsan . To winne is the benefit of Fortune : but to keepe is the power of wisdome .

Generall Exceptions .

The Verbe governing is understood : Nort. in Arsan . For if the head , which is the life , and stay of the body , betray the members , must not the members also needs betray one another ; and so the whole body , and head goe altogether to utter wreck , and destruction ?

The other generall exception is * * So in Greek and Latine , but in Hebrew this exception is often . Esai . 6.9 . which hebraisme the new Testament is wont to retaine by turning the Hebrew infinite , either into a verbal , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Matth. 13.14 . or a Participle , 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Act. 7.34 wanting .

The Speciall exception . Two Verbes , have , and am , require alwayes a Participle past without any signe : as , I am pleased . Thou art hated . Save when they import a necessitie , or conveniencie of doing any thing : In which case they are very * * A phrase proper unto our tongue , save that the Hebrews seem to have the former . Job 20.23 . When he is to fill his belly . eloquently joyned to the infinite , the signe comming betweene : By the example of Herod , all Princes are to take heed how they give eare to flatterers .

Lidgate , lib. 1. Truth , and falsnesse in what they have done , May no while assemble in one person .

And here those Times , which in Etymologie we remembred to be wanting , are set forth by the Syntaxe of Verbes joyned together . The Syntaxe of imperfect Times in this manner :

The Presents by the infinite , and the Verbe , may , or can , as for , Amem , Amarem : I may love : I might love . And againe , I can love : I could love .

The futures are declared by the infinite , and the Verbe , shall , or will : as Amabo : I shall , or , will love .

Amavero addeth thereunto , have , taking the nature of two divers Times ; that is , of the future , and the Time past : I shall have loved : or , I will have loved .

The perfect Times are expressed by the Verbe , have : as , Amavi . Amaveram . I have loved . I had loved .

Amaverim , and Amavissem adde might unto the former Verbe : as , I might have loved .

The infinite past , is also made by adding , have : as , Amavisse , to have loved .

Verbes Passive are made of the Participle past , and , am , the Verbe . Amor , and Amabar , by the only putting to of the Verbe : as , Amor , I am loved . Amabar , I was loved .

Amer , and Amarer , have it governed of the Verbe may , or can : as , Amer , I may be loved : or , I can be loved . Amarer , I might be loved , or , I could be loved . In Amabor , it is governed of shall , or , will : as , I shall , or , will be loved .

CHAP. VII . Of the Syntaxe of Adverbes .

THis therefore is the Syntaxe of words , having number , there remaineth that of words without number , which standeth in Adverbs , or Conjunctions . Adverbs are taken one for the other ; that is to say , Adverbs of likenesse , for Adverbs of Time . As he spake those words , he gave up the ghost . Gower , lib. 1. Anone , as he was meeke , and tame . He found towards his God the same .

The like is to be seene in Adverbs of Time , and Place , used in each others stead , as among the Latines , and the Grecians .

Nort. in Arsan .

Let us not be ashamed to follow the counsell , and example of our enemies , where it may doe us good .

Adverbs stand in stead of Relatives :

Lidgate , lib. 1. And little worth is fairenesse in certaine In a person , where no vertue is seene . Nort. to the Northerne Rebells .

Few women storme against the marriage of Priests , but such as have beene Priests harlots , or faine would be .

Chaucer in his Ballad . But great God disposeth , And maketh casuall by his Providence Such things as fraile man purposeth . For , those things , which .

Certaine Adverbs in the Syntaxe of a Substantive , and an Adjective meeting together , cause , a , the Article to follow the Adjective .

Sir John Cheeke :

O! with what spite was sundred so noble a body , from so godly a mind .

Jewell . It is too light a labour to strive for names . Chaucer . Thou art at ease , and hold thee well therein . As great a praise is to keepe well , as win .

Adjectives * * The Greeke Article is set before the positive also : Theocrit . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . compared , when they are used Adverbially , may have the Article the , going before .

Jewell . The more inlarged is your libertie , the lesse cause have you to complaine .

Adverbs are wanting . Sir Tho. More . And how farre be they off that would helpe , as God send grace , they hurt not ; for , that they hurt not .

Often-times they are used without any necessitie , for greater vehemencie sake ; as , Then-afterward , Againe , once more .

Gower . Hee saw also the bowes spread Above all earth , in which were The kinde of all birds there .

Prepositions are joyned with the * * In Greeke , and in Latine , they are coupled ; some , with one oblique case ; some with another . Accusative cases of Pronounes : Sir Thomas More .

I exhort , and require you , for the love that you have borne to me ; and , for the love that I have borne to you ; and for the love , that our Lord beareth to us all .

Gower . lib. 1. For Lucifer , with them that fell , Bare Pride with him into Hell .

They may also be coupled with the Possessives : Myne , thyne , ours , yours , his , hers , theirs . Nort. to the Rebells . Thinke you , her Majestie , and the wisest of the Realme , have no care of their owne soules , that have charge both of their owne , and yours ?

These * * The Hebrewes set them alwayes before . Prepositions follow sometimes the Nounes they are coupled with : God hath made Princes , their Subjects guides , to direct them in the way , which they have to walke in .

But , ward , or wards ; and , toward , or , towards , have the same Syntaxe , that versus , and adversus , have with the Latines : that is , the latter comming after the Noune , which it governeth , and the other contrarily : Nort. in Paul Angells Oration to God-ward , and spitefull towards men , doth alwayes imagine mischiefe .

Lidgate , lib. 7. And south - ward runneth to Caucasus , And folke of Scythie , that bene laborious .

Now , as before in two Articles , a , and the , the whole construction of the Latines , was contain'd : so their whole rection is by Prepositions neere-hand declared : where the Preposition of , hath the force of the Genitive ; to , of the Dative ; from , of , in , by , and such like of the Ablative : as , the praise of God . Be thankfull to God . Take the cock of the hoope . I was saved from you by you , in your house .

Prepositions matched with the * * The like nature in Greeke , and Hebrew have Prepositions matched with the infinite , as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Participle present , supply the place of Gerundes : as , In loving , of loving , by loving with loving , from loving , &c.

Prepositions doe also governe * * This in Hebrew is very common : from now , that is , from this time , whence proceed those hebraismes in the New Testament ; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , &c. Adverbs .

Lidgate , lib. 9. Sent from above , as shee did understand .

Generall exceptions : Divers Prepositions are very often wanting , whereof it shall be sufficient to give a taste in those , that above the rest , are most worthy to be noted .

Of , in an Adjective of Partition : Lidgate , lib. 5.

His Lieges eche one being of one assent To live , and dye with him in his intent .

The Preposition , touching , concerning , or some such like doth often want , after the manner of the Hebrew Lamed : Gower . The privities of mans heart They speaken , and sound in his eare , As though they loude windes were .

Riches , and inheritance , they be given by Gods providence , to whom of his wisdome hee thinketh good : For , touching , riches , and inheritance ; or some such like Preposition .

If , is somewhat strangely lacking : Nort. in Arsan . Unwise are they , that end their matters with , Had I wist .

Lidgate , lib. 1. For , ne were not this prudent ordinance , Some , to obey , and above to gye Destroyed were all worldly Policie .

The superfluitie of Prepositions is more rare : Jewell . The whole Universitie , and City of Oxford .

Gower . So that my Lord touchend of this I have answered , how , that it is .
CHAP. VIII . Of the Syntaxe of Conjunctions .

THe Syntaxe of Conjunctions is in order only ; Neither , and , either , are placed in the beginning of words : Nor , and or , comming after : Sir Thomas More : Hee can be no Sanctuary-man , that hath neither discretion to desire it , nor malice to deserve it .

Sir John Cheeke . Either by ambition you seeke Lordlinesse , much unfit for you ; or by covetousnesse , ye be unsatiable , a thing likely enough in you : or else by folly , ye be not content with your estate , a fancie to be pluckt out of you .

Lidgate , lib. 2. Wrong , clyming up of states , and degrees , Either by murder , or by false treasons Asketh a fall , for their finall guerdons .

Here , for nor in the latter member , ne is sometime used : Lambert . But the Archbishop set himselfe against it , affirming plainly , that hee neither could , ne would suffer it .

The like Syntaxe is also to be marked in so , and as , used comparatively : for , when the comparison is in quantitie , then so goeth before , and as followeth . Ascham . He hateth himselfe , and hasteth his owne hurt , that is content to heare none so gladly , as either a foole , or a flatterer .

Gower , lib. 1. Men wist in thilk time none . So faire a wight , as she was one . Sometime for so , as commeth in . Chaucer . lib. 5. Troil. And said , I am , albeit to you no joy , As gentle a man , as any wight in Troy . But if the Comparison be in qualitie , then it is contrary : Gower ; For , as the fish , if it be dry More in default of water dye : Right so , without ayre , or live , No man , nebeast , might thrive .

And , in the beginning of a sentence , serveth in stead of an Admiration : And , what a notable signe of patience was it in Job , not to murmure against the Lord ? Chaucer 3. booke of Fame . What , quoth shee , and be ye wood ! And , wene ye for to doe good , And , for to have of that no fame ?

Conjunctions of divers sorts are taken one for another : as , But , a severing Conjunction , for a conditioning : Chaucer in the man of lawes tale . But it were with the ilk eyen of his minde , With which men seen ' after they ben blinde .

Sir . Thomas More . Which , neither can they have , but you give it : neither can you give it , if ye agree not .

The selfe-same Syntaxe as in And , the coupling Conjunction ; The Lord Berners in the Preface to his translation of Froisart : What knowledge should we have of ancient things past , and historie were not .

Sir John Cheeke . Yee have waxed greedie now upon Cities , and have attempted mightie spoiles to glut up , and you could your wasting hunger .

On the other side , for , a cause-renderer , hath sometime the force of a severing one .

Lidgate . lib. 3. But it may fall a Drewry in his right , To outrage a Giant for all his great might .

Here the two generall exceptions are termed , Asyndeton , and Polysyndeton . Asyndeton , when the Conjunction wanteth : The Universities of Christendome are the eyes , the lights , the leaven , the salt , the seasoning of the world .

Gower . To whom her heart cannot heale , Turne it to woe , turne it to weale .

Here the sundring Conjunction , or , is lacking ; and in the former example , and , the coupler .

Polysyndeton is in doubling the Conjunction more then it need to be : Gower , lib. 4. So , whether that he frieze , or sweat , Or ' tte be in , or ' tte be out , Hee will be idle all about .

CHAPTER IX . Of the Distinction of Sentences .

ALL the parts of Syntaxe have already beene declared . There resteth one generall Affection of the whole , dispersed thorow every member thereof , as the bloud is thorow the body ; and consisteth in the breathing , when we pronounce any Sentence ; For , whereas our breath is by nature so short , that we cannot continue without a stay to speake long together ; it was thought necessarie , as well for the speakers ease , as for the plainer deliverance of the things spoken , to invent this meanes , whereby men pausing a pretty while , the whole speech might never the worse be understood .

These Distinctions are , either of a perfect , or imperfect Sentence . The distinctions of an imperfect Sentence are two , a sub distinction , and a Comma .

A Sub-distinction is a meane breathing , when the word serveth indifferently , both to the parts of the Sentence going before , and following after , and is marked thus ( ; )

A Comma is a distinction of an imperfect Sentence , wherein with somewhat a longer breath , the Sentence following ; and is noted with this shorter semicircle ( , ) .

Hither pertaineth a * * The Hebrewes have no peculiar note to discerne this Parenthesis by , nor the Interrogation , and Admiration following . Parenthesis , wherein two Comma's include a Sentence :

Jewell . Certaine falshoods ( by meane of good utterance ) have sometime more likely-hood of truth , then truth it selfe .

Gower , lib. 1. Division . ( the Gospel saith ) One house upon another laith . Chaucer 3. booke of Fame . For time , ylost ( this know ye ) By no way may recovered be .

These imperfect distinctions in the Syntaxe of a Substantive , and an Adjective give the former place to the Substantive : Ascham . Thus the poore Gentleman suffered griefe ; great for the paine ; but greater for the spite .

Gower . lib. 2. Speaking of the envious person : Though he a man see vertuous , And full of good condition , Thereof maketh he no mention .

The Distinction of a perfect Sentence hath a more full stay , and doth rest the spirit , which is a Pause , or a Period .

A Pause is a Distinction of a Sentence , though perfect in it selfe , yet joyned to another , being marked with two pricks . ( : )

A period is the Distinction of a Sentence , in all respects perfect , and is marked with one full prick , over against the lower part of the last letter , thus ( . )

If a Sentence be with an Interrogation , we use this note ( ? )

Sir John Cheeke . Who can perswade , where treason is above reason ; and might ruleth right ; and it is had for lawfull , whatsoever is lustfull ; and Commotioners are better then Commissioners ; and common woe is named Common-wealth ?

Chaucer , 2. booke of Fame . Loe , is it not a great mischance , To let a foole have governance , Of things , that he cannot demayne ? Lidgate , lib. 1. For , if wives be found variable , Where shall husbands find other stable ?

If it be pronounced with an Admiration , then thus ( ! ) Sir Tho. More .

O Lord God , the blindnesse of our mortall nature !

Chaucer , 1. booke of Fame . Alas ! what harme doth apparence , When it is false in existence !

These Distinctions ( whereof the first is commonly neglected ) as they best agree with nature : so come they neerest to the ancient staies of Sentences among the Romans , and the Grecians . An example of all foure to make the matter plaine , let us take out of that excellent Oration of Sir John Cheeke ; against the Rebells , whereof before we have made so often mention : When common order of the law can take no place in unruly , and disobedient subjects : and all men will of wilfulnesse resist with rage , and thinke their owne violence , to be the best justice : then be wise Magistrates compelled by necessitie , to seeke an extreme remedy , where meane salves helpe not , and bring in the Martiall Law , where none other law serveth . * ⁎ *

The End ,

TIMBER : OR , DISCOVERIES ; MADE VPON MEN AND MATTER : AS THEY have flow'd out of his daily Readings ; or had their refluxe to his peculiar Notion of the Times .

By BEN : IOHNSON .

— Tecum habita , ut noris quam sit tibi curta supellex .

Pers. sat. 4.

LONDON , Printed M.DC.XLI .

SYLVA .

RErum , & sententiarum , quasi 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 dicta à multiplici materiâ , & varietate , in iis contentâ . Quemadmodùm enim vulgò solemus infinitam arborum nascentium indiscriminatim multitudinem Sylvam dicere : Ità etiam libros suos in quibus variae , & diversae materiae opuscula temerè congesta erant , Sylvas appellabant Antiqui : Tymber-trees .

EXPLORATA : OR , DISCOVERIES .

ILl Fortune never crush't that man , whom good Fortune deceived not . Fortuna . I therefore have counselled my friends , never to trust to her fairer side , though she seem'd to make peace with them : But to place all things she gave them so , as she might aske them againe without their trouble ; she might take them from them , not pull them : to keepe alwayes a distance betweene her , and themselves . He knowes not his own strength , that hath not met Adversity . Heaven prepares good men with crosses ; but no ill can happen to a good man . Contraries are not mixed . Yet , that which happens to any man , may to every man . But it is in his reason what hee accounts it , and will make it .

Change into extremity is very frequent , and easie . Casus . As when a beggar suddenly growes rich , he commonly becomes a Prodigall ; for , to obscure his former obscurity , he puts on riot and excesse .

No man is so foolish , Consilia . but may give an other good counsell sometimes ; and no man is so wise , but may easily erre , if hee will take no others counsell , but his owne . But very few men are wise by their owne counsell ; or learned by their owne teaching . For hee that was onely taught by himselfe , had a foole to his Master . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Fama .

A Fame that is wounded to the world , would bee better cured by anothers Apologie , then its owne : For few can apply medicines well themselves . Besides , the man that is once hated , both his good , and his evill deeds oppresse him : Hee is not easily emergent .

In great Affaires it is a worke of difficulty to please all . Negotia . And oft times wee lose the occasion of carrying a busines well , and thoroughly , by our too much haste . For Passions are spirituall Rebels , and raise sedition against the understanding .

There is a Necessity all men should love their countrey : Amor Patriae . He that professeth the contrary , may be delighted with his words , but his heart is there .

Natures that are hardned to evill , you shall sooner breake , Ingenia . then make straight ; they are like poles that are crooked , and dry : there is no attempting them .

Wee praise the things wee heare , with much more willingnesse , Applausus . then those wee see : because wee envy the present , and reverence the past ; thinking our selves instructed by the one , and over-laid by the other .

Opinion is a light , vaine , crude , and imperfect thing , Opinio . settled in the Imagination ; but never arriving at the understanding , there to obtaine the tincture of Reason . Wee labour with it more then Truth . There is much more holds us , then presseth us . An ill fact is one thing , an ill fortune is another : Yet both often times sway us alike , by the error of our thinking .

Many men beleeve not themselves , Impostura . what they would perswade others ; and lesse doe the things , which they would impose on others : but least of all , know what they themselves most confidently boast . Only they set the signe of the Crosse over their outer doores , and sacrifice to their gut , and their groyne in their inner Closets .

Iactura vitae . What a deale of cold busines doth a man mis-spend the better part of life in ! in scattering complements , tendring visits , gathering and venting newes , following Feasts and Playes , making a little winter-love in a darke corner .

Hypocrita . Puritanus Hypocrita est Hareticus , quem opinio propriae perspicaciae , quâ sibi videtur , cum paucis in Ecclesiâ dogmatibus , errores quosdam animadvertisse , de statu mentis deturbavit : unde sacro furore percitus , phreneticè pugnut contru Magistratus , sic ratus , obedientiam praestare Deo .

Mutua auxilia . Learning needs rest : Soveraignty gives it . Soveraignty needs counsell : Learning affords it . There is such a Consociation of offices , betweene the Prince , and whom his favour breeds , that they may helpe to sustaine his power , as hee their knowledge . It is the greatest part of his Liberality , his Favour : And from whom doth he heare discipline more willingly , or the Arts discours'd more gladly , then from those , whom his owne bounty , and benefits have made able and faithfull ?

Cognit universi . In being able to counsell others , a Man must be furnish'd with an universall store in himselfe , to the knowledge of all Nature : That is the matter , and seed-plot ; There are the seats of all Argument , and Invention . But especially , you must be cunning in the nature of Man : There is the variety of things , which are as the Elements , and Letters , which his art and wisdome must ranke , and order to the present occasion . For wee see not all letters in single words ; nor all places in particular discourses . That cause seldome happens , wherein a man will use all Arguments .

Consiliarii adjunct . Probitas . sapientia . The two chiefe things that give a man reputation incounsell , are the opinion of his Honesty ; and the opinion of his Wisdome : The authority of those two will perswade , when the same Counsels utter'd by other persons lesse qualified , are of no efficacy , or working .

Wisedome without Honesty is meere craft , and coofinage . And therefore the reputation of Honesty must first be gotten ; which cannot be , but by living well . A good life is a maine Argument .

Vita recta . Obsequentia . Humanitas . Sollicitudo . Next a good life , to beget love in the persons wee counsell , by dissembling our knowledge of ability in our selves , and avoyding all suspition of arrogance , ascribing all to their instruction , as an Ambassadour to his Master , or a Subject to his Soveraigne ; seasoning all with humanity and sweetnesse , onely expressing care and sollicitude . And not to counsell rashly , or on the suddaine , but with advice and meditation : ( Dat nox consilium . ) For many foolish things fall from wise men , if they speake in haste , or be extemporall . It therefore behooves the giver of counsell to be circumspect ; especially to beware of those , with whom hee is not throughly acquainted , lest any spice of rashnesse , folly , or selfe-love appeare , which will be mark'd by new persons , and men of experience in affaires .

Modestia . Parrhesia . And to the Prince , or his Superiour , to behave himselfe modestly , and with respect . Yet free from Flattery , or Empire . Not with insolence , or precept ; but as the Prince were already furnished with the parts hee should have , especially in affaires of State . For in otherthings they will more easily suffer themselves to be taught , or reprehended : They will not willingly contend . But heare ( with Alexander ) the answer the Musician gave him , Absit ô Rex , ut tu meliùs hac sciat , quàm ego .

A man should so deliver himselfe to the nature of the subject , Plutarc . in vita Alex. Perspicuitas . Elegantia . whereof hee speakes , that his hearer may take knowledge of his discipline with some delight : and so apparell faire , and good matter , that the studious of elegancy be not defrauded ; redeeme Arts from their rough , and braky seates , where they lay hid , and over-growne with thornes , to a pure , open , and flowry light : where they may take the eye , and be taken by the hand .

I cannot thinke Nature is so spent , and decay'd , Natura a non effoeta . that she can bring forth nothing worth her former yeares . She is alwayes the same , like her selfe : And when she collects her strength , is abler still . Men are decay'd , and studies : Shee is not .

I know Nothing can conduce more to letters , Non nimiùm cred●dum antiquitati . then to examine the writings of the Ancients , and not to rest in their sole Authority , or take all upon trust from them ; provided the plagues of Iudging , and Pronouncing against them , be away ; such as are envy , bitternesse , precipitation , impudence , and scurrile scoffing . For to all the observations of the Ancients , wee have our owne experience : which , if wee will use , and apply , wee have better meanes to pronounce . It is true they open'd the gates , and made the way that went before us ; but as Guides , not Commanders : Non Domini nostri , sed Duces fuêre . Truth lyes open to all ; it is no mans severall . Patet omnibus veritas ; nondum est occupata . Multum ex illâ , etiam futuris relicta est .

If in some things I dissent from others , whose Wit , Industry , Dissentire licet : Diligence , and Iudgement I looke up at , and admire : let me not therefore heare presently of Ingratitude , and Rashnesse . For I thanke those , that have taught me , and will ever : Sed cum ratione . but yet dare not thinke the scope of their labour , and enquiry , was to envy their posterity , what they also could adde , and find out .

If I erre , pardon me : Nulla ars simul & inventa est , & absoluta . Non mihi cedendum , I doe not desire to be equall to those that went before ; but to have my reason examin'd with theirs , and so much faith to be given them , or me , as those shall evict . I am neither Author , or Fautor of any sect . I will have no man addict himselfe to mee ; but if I have any thing right , defend it as Truth 's , not mine ( save as it conduceth to a common good . ) It profits not me to have any man fence , or fight for me , to flourish , or take a side . Stand for Truth , and 't is enough . Sed veritati . Scientiae liberales .

Arts that respect the mind , were ever reputed nobler , then those that serve the body : though wee lesse can bee without them . As Tillage , Spinning , Weaving , Building , &c. without which , wee could scarce sustaine life a day . But these were the workes of every hand ; the other of the braine only , and those the most generous , and exalted wits , and spirits that cannot rest , or acquiesce . The mind of man is still fed with labour : Opere pascitur .

There is a more secret Cause : Non vulgi sunt . and the power of liberall studies lyes more hid , then that it can bee wrought out by profane wits . It is not every mans way to hit . They are men ( I confesse ) that set the Caract , and Value upon things , as they love them ; but Science is not every mans Mistresse . It is as great a spite to be praised in the wrong place , and by a wrong person , as can be done to a noble nature .

If divers men seeke Fame , or Honour , by divers wayes ; Honesta Ambitio . so both bee honest , neither is to be blam'd : But they that seeke Immortality , are not onely worthy of leave , but of praise .

Maritus improbus . Hee hath a delicate Wife , a faire fortune , and family to goe to be welcome ; yet hee had rather be drunke with mine Host , and the Fidlers of such a Towne , then goe home .

Afflictio pia Magistra . Deploratis facilis descensus Averni . The Divell take all . Aegidius cursu superat . Prodigo nummi nauci . Munda et sordida . Debitum deploratum . Latro sesquipedalis . Affliction teacheth a wicked person sometime to pray : Prosperity never .

Many might goe to heaven with halfe the labour they goe to hell , if they would venture their industry the right way : But the Divell take all ( quoth he ) that was choak'd i' the Mill-dam , with his foure last words in his mouth .

A Criple in the way out-travels a Foot-man , or a Post out of the way .

Bags of money to a prodigall person , are the same that Cherry-stones are with some boyes , and so throwne away .

A woman , the more curious she is about her face , is commonly the more carelesse about her house .

Of this Spilt water , there is little to bee gathered up : it is a desperate debt .

The Theife * * with a great belly . Com. de schortenhien Calumniae fructus . that had a longing at the Gallowes to commit one Robbery more , before hee was hang'd .

And like the German-Lord , when hee went out of New-gate into the Cart , tooke order to have his Armes set up in his last Herborough : Said he was taken , and committed upon suspition of Treason ▪ no witnesse appearing against him : But the Judges intertain'd him most civilly , discours'd with him , offer'd him the court'sie of the racke ; but he confessed , &c.

I am beholden to Calumny , that shee hath so endeavor'd , and taken paines to bely mee . It shall make mee set a surer Guard on my selfe , and keepe a better watch upon my Actions .

Impertinens . A tedious person is one a man would leape a steeple from ; gallop down any steepe Hill to avoid him ; forsake his meat , sleepe , nature it selfe , with all her benefits to shun him . A meere Impertinent : one that touch'd neither heaven nor earth in his discourse . Hee open'd an entry into a faire roome ; but shut it againe presently . I spake to him of Garlicke , hee answered Asparagus : consulted him of marriage , hee tels mee of hanging ; as if they went by one , and the same Destiny .

Bellum scribentium : What a sight it is , to see Writers committed together by the eares , for Ceremonies , Syllables , Points , Colons , Comma's , Hyphens , and the like ? fighting , as for their fires , and their Altars ; and angry that none are frighted at their noyses , and loud brayings under their asses skins ?

Differentia inter There is hope of getting a fortune without digging in these quarries . Sed meliore ( in omne ) ingenio , animoque quàm fortunâ , sum usus .

Pinque solum lassat : sed juvat ipse labor .

Wits made out their severall expeditions then , for the discovery of Truth , Doctos et Sciolos . to find out great and profitable Knowledges , had their severall instruments for the disquisition of Arts. Now there are certaine Scioli , or smatterers , that are busie in the skirts , and out-sides of Learning , and have scarce any thing of solide literature to commend them . They may have some edging , or trimming of a Scholler , a welt , or so : but it is no more .

Imposture is a specious thing ; yet never worse , Impostorum fucus . then when it faines to be best , and to none discover'd sooner , then the simplest . For Truth and Goodnesse are plaine , and open ; but Imposture is ever asham'd of the light .

A Puppet-play must be shadow'd , and seene in the darke : For draw the Curtaine , Et sordet gesticulatio . Icuncularum motio . Principes , et Administri .

There is a great difference in the understanding of some Princes , as in the quality of their Ministers about them . Some would dresse their Masters in gold , pearle , and all true Jewels of Majesty : Others furnish them with feathers , bels , and ribbands ; and are therefore esteemed the fitter servants . But they are ever good men , that must make good the times : if the men be naught , the times will be such . Finis expectandus est in unoquoque hominum ; animali , ad mutationem promptissimo .

It is a quick saying with the Spaniards : Artes inter haeredes non dividi . Scitum Hispanicum Yet these have inherited their fathers lying , and they brag of it . Hee is an narrow-minded man , that affects a Triumph in any glorious study : but to triumph in a lye , and a lye themselves have forg'd , is frontlesse . Folly often goes beyond her bounds ; but Impudence knowes none .

Envy is no new thing , nor was it borne onely in our times . Non nova res livor . The Ages past have brought it forth , and the comming Ages will . So long as there are men fit for it , quorum odium virtute relictâ placet , it will never be wanting . It is a barbarous envy , to take from those mens vertues , which because thou canst not arrive at , thou impotently despaires to imitate . Is it a crime in me that I know that , which others had not yet knowne , but from me ? or that I am the Author of many things , which never would have come in thy thought , but that I taught them ? It is a new , but a foolish way you have found out , that whom you cannot equall , or come neere in doing , you would destroy , or ruine with evill speaking : As if you had bound both your wits , and natures prentises to slander , and then came forth the best Artificers , when you could forme the foulest calumnies .

Indeed , nothing is of more credit , or request now , Nil gratius protervo lib. then a petulant paper , or scoffing verses ; and it is but convenient to the times and manners wee live with ; to have then the worst writings , and studies flourish , when the best begin to be despis'd . Ill Arts begin , where good end .

The time was , when men would learne , and study good things ; not envie those that had them . Then men were had in price for learning : I am littera & sordent . now , letters onely make men vile . Hee is upbraydingly call'd a Poet , as if it were a most contemptible Nick-name . But the Professors ( indeed ) have made the learning cheape . Rayling , and tinckling Rimers , whose Writings the vulgar more greedily reade ; as being taken with the scurtility , and petulancie of such wits . Hee shall not have a Reader now , Pastus hodier . Ingen. unlesse hee jeere and lye . It is the food of mens natures : the diet of the times ! Gallants cannot sleepe else . The Writer must lye , and the gentle Reader rests happy , to heare the worthiest workes mis-interpreted ; the clearest actions obscured ▪ the innocent'st life traduc'd ; And in such a licence of lying , field so faithfull of slanders how can there be matter , wanting to his laughter ? Hence comes the Epidemicall Infection . For how can they escape the contagion of the Writings , whom the virulency of the calumnies hath not stav'd off from reading .

Sed seculi morbus . Nothing doth more invite a greedy Reader , then an unlook'd for subject . And what more unlook'd for , then to see a person of an unblam'd life , made ridiculous , or odious , by the Artifice of lying ? but it is the disease of the Age : and no wonder if the world , growing old , begin to be infirme : Old age it selfe is a disease . It is long since the sick world began to doate , and talke idly : Would she had but doated still ; but her dotage is now broke forth into a madnesse , and become a meere phrency .

Alastoris malitia . This Alastor , who hath left nothing unsearch'd , or unassayl'd , by his impudent , and licentious lying in his aguish writings ( for he was in his cold quaking fit all the while : ) what hath he done more , then a troublesome base curre ? bark'd , and made a noyse a farre off : had a foole , or two to spit in his mouth , and cherish him with a musty bone ? But they are rather enemies of my fame , then me , these Barkers .

Mali choragi fuere . It is an Art to have so much judgement , as to apparrell a Lye well , to give it a good dressing ; that though the nakednesse would shew deform'd and odious , the suiting of it might draw their Readers . Some love any Strumpet ( be shee never so shop-like , or meritorious ) in good clothes . But these nature could not have form'd them better , to destroy their owne testimony ; and over-throw their calumny .

Heare-say newes . That an Elephant , 630. came hither Ambassadour from the great Mogull , ( who could both write and reade ) and was every day allow'd twelve cast of bread , twenty Quarts of Canary Sack ; besides Nuts and Almonds the Citizens wives sent him . That hee had a Spanish Boy to his Interpreter , and his chiefe negotiation was , to conferre or practise with Archy , the principall foole of State , about stealing hence Windsor Castle , and carrying it away on his back if he can .

Lingua sapientis . A wise tongue should not be licentious , and wandring ; but mov'd , and ( as it were ) govern'd with certaine raines from the heart , and bottome of the brest : and it was excellently said of that Philosopher ; that there was a Wall , or Parapet of teeth set in our mouth , to restraine the petulancy of our words : that the rashnesse of talking should not only bee retarded by the guard , and watch of our heart ; but be fenced in , and defended by certaine strengths , placed in the mouth it selfe , and within the lips . But you shall see some , so abound with words without any seasoning or taste of matter , in so profound a security , as while they are speaking , for the most part , they confesse to speake they know not what .

Potius quàm loquents : Of the two ( if either were to bee wisht ) I would rather have a plaine downe-right wisdome , then a foolish and affected eloquence . For what is so furious , and Bet'lem like , as a vaine sound of chosen and excellent words , without any subject of sentence , or science mix'd ?

Optanda . Whom the disease of talking still once possesseth , hee can never hold his peace . Nay , rather then hee will not discourse , hee will hire men to heare him . And so heard , not hearkn'd unto , hee comes off most times like a Mountebanke , that when hee hath prais'd his med'cines , finds none will take them , Thersites Homeri . or trust him . Hee is like Homers Thersites .

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 : speaking without judgement , Loquax magis , quàm facundus . Salust . Satis loquentia , sapientiae parum . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Hesiodus . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Optimus est homini linguae thesaurus , & ingens Gratia , quae parcis mensurat singula verbis .

Vlysses in Homer , is made a long thinking man , before hee speaks ; Homeri Vlysses . Pindar : Epaminond . De macatus Plutarchi . Vid. Zenxidis pict. serm. ad Megabizum Plutarch . and Epaminondas is celebrated by Pindar , to be a man , that though he knew much , yet hee spoke but little . Demacatus , when on the Bench he was long silent , and said nothing ; one asking him , if it were folly in him , or want of language ? hee answer'd : A foole could never hold his peace . For too much talking is ever the Indice of a foole .

Dum tacet indoctus , poterit cordatus haberi ; Is morbos animi namque tacendo tegit .

Nor is that worthy speech of Zeno , the Philosopher to be past over , without the note of ignorance : who being invited to a feast in Athens , where a great Princes Ambassadours were entertain'd , and was the onely person had said nothing at the table ; one of them with courtesie asked him ; What shall we returne from thee , Zeno , to the Prince our Master , if hee aske us of thee ? Nothing , he replyed , more , but that you found an old man in Athens , that knew to be silent amongst his cups . It was nere a Miracle , to see an old man silent ; since talking is the disease of Age : but amongst cups makes it fully a wonder .

It was wittily said upon one , that was taken for a great , and grave man , Argute dictum . so long as hee held his peace : This man might have beene a Counsellor of State till he spoke : But having spoken , not the Beadle of the Ward . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , Pythag. quàm laudabilis ! Vide Apuleium . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Linguam cohibe , prae aliis omnibus , ad Deorum exemplum , * * Invenal . Acutiùs cernuntur vitia , quàm virtutes . Digito compesce labellum .

There is almost no man , but hee sees clearlier , and sharper , the vices in a speaker , then the vertues . And there are many , that with more ease , will find fault with what is spoken foolishly , then that can give allowance to , wherein you are wise silently . The treasure of a foole is alwayes in his tongue ( said the witty comick Poet ) and it appeares not in any thing more , Plautus . then in that nation ; whereof one when hee had got the inheritance of an unlucky old Grange , would needs sell it ; and to draw buyers , proclaim'd , Trin. Act. 2. Scaen. ● . the vertues of it . Nothing ever thriv'd on it ( saith he . ) No owner of it , ever dyed in his bed ; some hung , some drown'd themselves ; some were banisht , some starv'd ; the trees were all blasted , the Swyne dyed of the Measils , the Cattell of the Murren ; the Sheepe of the Rot ; they that stood were ragg'd , bare , and bald , as your hand ; nothing was ever rear'd there ; not a Duckling , or a Goose . Hospitium fuerat calamitatis . Sim. Mart. lib. 1. ep. 85. Vulgi expectatio . Was not this man like to sell it ?

Expectation of the Vulgar is more drawne , and held with newnesse , then goodnesse ; wee see it in Fencers , in Players , in Poets , in Preachers , in all , where Fame promiseth any thing ; so it be now , though never so naught , and depraved , they run to it , and are taken . Which shewes , that the only decay , or hurt of the best mens reputation with the people , is , their wits have out-liv'd the peoples palats . They have beene too much , or too long a feast .

Claritas Patria . Greatnesse of name in the Father , oft times helpes not forth , but o'rewhelmes the Sonne : they stand too neere one another . The shadow kils the growth ; so much , that wee see the Grand-child come more , and oftner to be the heire of the first , then doth the second : He dies betweene ; the Possession is the thirds .

Eloquentia . Eloquence is a great , and diverse thing : Nor did she yet ever favour any man so much , as to become wholly his . Hee is happy , that can arrive to any degree of her grace . Yet there are , who prove themselves Masters of her , and absolute Lords : but I beleeve , they may mistake their evidence : For it is one thing to be eloquent in the Schooles , or in the Hall ; another at the Barre , or in the Pulpit . There is a difference betweene Meeting , and Pleading ; betweene Fencing , and Fighting . To make Arguments in my Study , and confute them is easie ; where I answer my selfe , not an Adversary . So , I can see whole volumes dispatch'd by the vmbraticall Doctors on all sides : But draw these forth into the just lists ; let them appeare sub dio , and they are chang'd with the place , like bodies bred i' the shade ; they cannot suffer the Sunne , or a Showre ; nor beare the open Ayre : they scarce can find themselves , that they were wont to domineere so among their Auditors : but indeed I would no more chuse a Ehetorician , for reigning in a Schoole ; then I would a Pilot , for rowing in a Pond .

Amor , et odium . Love , that is ignorant , and Hatred have almost the same ends : many foolish Lovers wish the same to their friends , which their enemies would : As to wish a friend banish't , that they might accompany him in exile : or some great want , that they might relieve him : or a disease , that they might sit by him . They make a Cawsway to their countrey by Injury ; as if it were not honester to do nothing , then to seeke a way to doe good , by a Mischefe .

Injuria . Injuries doe not extinguish courtesies : they only suffer them not to appeare faire . For a man that doth me an injury after a courtesie , takes not away the courtesie , but defaces it : As he that writes other verses upon my verses , takes not away the first Letters , but hides them .

Beneficia . Nothing is a courtesie , unlesse it be meant us ; and that friendly , and lovingly . Wee owe no thankes to Rivers , that they carry our boats ; or Winds , that they be favouring , and fill our sayles ; or meats , that they be nourishing . For these are , what they are necessarily . Horses carry us , Trees shade us ; but they know it not . It is true , some man may receive a Courtesie , and not know it ; but never any man received it from him , that knew it not . Many men have beene cur'd of diseases by Accidents ; but they were not Remedies . I my selfe have knowne one help'd of an Ague , by falling into a water ; another whip'd out of a Fever : but no man would ever use these for med'cines . It is the mind , and not the event , that distinguisheth the courtesie from wrong . My Adversary may offend the Judge with his pride , and impertinences , and I win my cause : but he meant it not me , as a Courtesie . I scap'd Pyrats , by being ship-wrack'd , was the wrack a benefit therefore ? No : The doing of Courtesies aright , is the mixing of the respects for his owne sake , and for mine . He that doth them meerly for his owne sake , is like one that feeds his Cattell to sell them : he hath his Horse well drest for Smithfield .

The price of many things is farre above , Valor Rerum . what they are bought and sold for . Life , and Health , which are both inestimable , we have of the Physician : As Learning , and Knowledge , the true tillage of the mind , from our Schoole-masters . But the fees of the one , or the salary of the other , never answer the value of what we received ; but serv'd to gratifie their labours .

Memory of all the powers of the mind , is the most delicate , and fraile : it is the first of our faculties , that Age invades . Seneca , the father , the Rhetorician , Memoria . confesseth of himselfe , hee had a miraculous one ; not only to receive , but to hold . I my selfe could in my youth , have repeated all , that ever I had made ; and so continued , till I was past fortie : Since , it is much decay'd in me . Yet I can repeate whole books that I have read , and Poems , of some selected friends , which I have lik'd to charge my memory with . It was wont to be faithfull to me , but shaken with age now , and sloath ( which weakens the strongest abilities ) it may performe somewhat , but cannot promise much . By exercise it is to be made better , and serviceable . Whatsoever I pawn'd with it , while I was young , and a boy , it offers me readily , and without stops : but what I trust to it now , or have done of later yeares , it layes up more negligently , and often times loses ; so that I receive mine owne ( though frequently call'd for ) as if it were new , and borrow'd . Nor doe I alwayes find presently from it , what I doe seek ; but while I am doing another thing , that I labour'd for , will come : And what I sought with trouble , will offer it selfe , when I am quiet . Now in some men I have found it as happy as nature , who , whatsoever they reade , or pen , they can say without booke presently ; as if they did then write in their mind . And it is more a wonder in such , as have a swift stile ; for their memories are commonly slowest ; such as torture their writings , and go into councell for every word , must needs fixe somewhat , and make it their owne at last , though but through their owne vexation .

Suffrages in Parliament are numbred , not weigh'd : Com't . Suffragia . nor can it bee otherwise in those publike Councels , where nothing is so unequall , as the equality : for there , how odde soever mens braines , or wisdomes are , their power is alwayes even , and the same .

Some Actions be they never so beautifull , and generous , Stare à partibus . are often obscur'd by base , and vile mis-constructions ; either out of envy , or ill nature , that judgeth of others , as of it selfe . Nay , the times are so wholly growne , to be either partiall , or malitious ; that , if hee be a friend , all sits well about him ; his very vices shall be vertues : if an enemy , or of the contrary faction ; nothing is good , or tolerable in him : insomuch , that wee care not to discredit , and shame our judgements , to sooth our passions .

Man is read in his face : God in his creatures ; but not as the Philosopher , Deut in creaturis . the creature of glory reads him : But , as the Divine , the servant of humility : yet even hee must take care , not to be too curious . For to utter Truth of God ( But as hee thinkes onely ) may be dangerous ; who is best knowne , by our not knowing . Some things of him , so much as hee hath revealed , or commanded , it is not only lawfull , but necessary for us to know : for therein our ignorance was the first cause of our wickednesse .

Truth is mans proper good ; and the onely immortall thing , Veritas proprium hominis . was given to our mortality to use . No good Christian , or Ethnick , if he be honest , can misse it : no States-man , or Patriot should . For without truth all the Actions of man-kind , are craft , malice , or what you will , rather then Wisdome . Homer sayes , hee hates him worse then hell-mouth , that utters one thing with his tongue , and keepes another in his brest . Which high expression was grounded on divine Reason . For a lying mouth is a stinking pit , and murthers with the contagion it venteth . Beside , nothing is lasting that is fain'd ; it will have another face then it had , ere long : As Euripides saith , No lye ever growes old .

Nullum vicium sine patrocinio . It is strange , there should be no vice without his patronage , that ( when wee have no other excuse ) wee will say , wee love it ; wee cannot forsake it : as if that made it not more a fault . Wee cannot , because wee thinke wee cannot : and wee love it , because wee will defend it . Wee will rather excuse it , then be rid of it . That wee cannot , is pretended ; but that wee will not , is the true reason . How many have I knowne , that would not have their vices hid ? Nay , and to bee noted , live like Antipodes , to others in the same Citie ; never see the Sunne rise , or set , in so many yeares ; but be as they were watching a Corps by Torch-light ; would not sinne the common way ; but held that a kind of Rusticity ; they would doe it new , or contrary , for the infamy ? They were ambitious of living backward ; and at last arrived at that , as they would love nothing but the vices ; not the vitious customes . It was impossible to reforme these natures ; they were dry'd , and hardned in their ill . They may say , they desir'd to leave it ; but doe not trust them : and they may thinke they desir'd it , but they may lye for all that ; they are a little angry with their follies , now and then ; marry they come into grace with them againe quickly . They will confesse , they are offended with their manner of living : like enough , who is not ? When they can put me in security , that they are more then offended ; that they hate it : then I le hearken to them ; and , perhaps , beleeve them : But many now a dayes , love and hate their ill together .

De verè Argutis . I doe heare them say often : Some men are not witty ; because they are not every where witty ; then which nothing is more foolish . If an eye or a nose bee an excellent part in the face , therefore be all eye or nose ? I thinke the eye-brow , the fore-head , the cheeke , chyn , lip , or any part else , are as necessary , and naturall in the place . But now nothing is good that is naturall : Right and naturall language seeme to have least of the wit in it ; that which is writh'd and tortur'd , is counted the more exquisite . Cloath of Bodkin , or Tissue , must be imbrodered ; as if no face were faire , that were not pouldred , or painted ? No beauty to be had , but in wresting , and writhing our owne tongue ? Nothing is fashionable , till it bee deform'd ; and this is to write like a Gentleman . All must bee as affected , and preposterous as our Gallants cloathes , sweet bags , and night-dressings : in which you would thinke our men lay in ; like Ladies : it is so curious .

Consura de Poetis . Nothing in our Age , I have observ'd , is more preposterous , then the running Iudgements upon Poetry , and Poets ; when wee shall heare those things commended , and cry'd up for the best writings , which a man would scarce vouchsafe , to wrap any wholsome drug in ; hee would never light his Tobacco with them . And those men almost nam'd for Miracles , who yet are so vile , that if a man should goe about , to examine , and correct them , hee must make all they have done , but one blot . Their good is so intangled with their bad , as forcibly one must draw on the others death with it . A Sponge dipt in Inke will doe all : — Comitetur punica librum Spongia . —

Et paulo post , Non possunt multa , una litura potest . Mart. l. 4. epig. 10.

Yet their vices have not , hurt them : Nay , a great many they have profited ; for they have beene lov'd for nothing else . And this false opinion growes strong against the best men : if once it take root with the Ignorant . Cestius in his time , was preferr'd to Cicero ; so farre , Cestius . Cicero . as the Ignorant durst . They learn'd him without booke , and had him often in their mouthes : But a man cannot imagine that thing so foolish , or rude , but will find , and enjoy an Admirer ; at least , a Reader , or Spectator . The Puppets are seene now in despight of the Players : Heath's Epigrams , Heath . Taylor . and the Skullers Poems have their applause . There are never wanting , that dare preferre the worst Preachers , the worst Pleaders , the worst Poets : not that the better have left to write , or speake better , but that they that heare them judge worse ; Non illi pejus dicunt , sed hi corruptiùs judicant . Nay , if it were put to the question of the Water-rimers workes , against Spencers ; I doubt not , but they would find more Suffrages ; Spencer . because the most favour common vices , out of a Prerogative the vulgar have , to lose their judgements ; and like that which is naught .

Poetry in this latter Age , hath prov'd but a meane Mistresse , to such as have wholly addicted themselves to her ; or given their names up to her family . They who have but saluted her on the by ; and now and then tendred their visits , shee hath done much for , and advanced in the way of their owne professions ( both the Law , and the Gospel ) beyond all they could have hoped , or done for themselves , without her favour . Wherein she doth emulate the judicious , but preposterous bounty of the times Grandes : who accumulate all they can upon the Parasite , or Fresh-man in their friendship ; but thinke an old Client , or honest servant , bound by his place to write , and starve .

Indeed , the multitude commend Writers , as they doe Fencers ; or Wrastlers ; who if they come in robustiously , and put for it , with a deale of violence , are received for the braver-fellowes : when many times their owne rudenesse is a cause of their disgrace ; and a slight touch of their Adversary , gives all that boisterous force the foyle . But in these things , the unskilfull are naturally deceiv'd , and judging wholly by the bulke , thinke rude things greater then polish'd ; and scatter'd more numerous , then compos'd : Nor thinke this only to be true in the sordid multitude but the neater sort of our Gallants : for all are the multitude ; only they differ in cloaths , not in judgement or understanding .

I remember , De Shakespeare nostrat . the Players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakespeare , that in his writing , ( whatsoever he penn'd ) hee never blotted out line . My answer hath beene , would he had blotted a thousand . Which they thought a malevolent speech . I had not told posterity this , but for their ignorance , who choose that circumstance to commend their friend by , wherein he most faulted . And to justifie mine owne candor , ( for I lov'd the man , and doe honour his memory ( on this side Idolatry ) as much as any . ) Hee was ( indeed ) honest , and of an open , and free nature : had an excellent Phantsie ; brave notions , and gentle expressions : wherein hee flow'd with that facility , that sometime it was necessary he should be stop'd : Augustus in Hat . Sufflaminandus erat ; as Augustus said of Haterius . His wit was in his owne power ; would the rule of it had beene so too . Many times hee fell into those things , could not escape laughter : As when hee said in the person of Caesar , one speaking to him ; Casar thou dost me wrong . Hee replyed : Caesar did never wrong , but with just cause : and such like , which were ridiculous . But hee redeemed his vices , with his vertues . There was ever more in him to be praysed , then to be pardoned .

Ingeniorum discrimina . In the difference of wits , I have observ'd ; there are many notes : And it is a little Maistry to know them : to discerne , what every nature , every disposition will beare : For , before wee sow our land , we should plough it . There are no fewer formes of minds , then of bodies amongst us . The variety is incredible ; and therefore wee must search . Some are fit to make Divines , some Poets , some Lawyers , some Physicians ; some to be sent to the plough , and trades .

There is no doctrine will doe good , where nature is wanting . Some wits are swelling , and high ; others low and still : Some hot and fiery ; others cold and dull : One must have a bridle , the other a sporre .

There be some that are forward , and bold ; and these will doe every little thing easily : I meane that is hard by , and next them , which they will utter , unretarded without any shamefastnesse . These never performe much , but quickly . They are , what they are on the sudden ; they shew presently like Graine , that , scatter'd on the top of the ground , shoots up , but takes no root ; has a yellow blade , but the eare empty . They are wits of good promise at first , but there is an * * A witstand . Ingeni-stitium : They stand still at sixteene , they get no higher .

You have others , that labour onely to ostentation ; and are ever more busie about the colours , and surface of a worke , then in the matter , and foundation : For that is hid , the other is seene .

Martial . lib. 11. epig. 91. Others , that in composition are nothing , but what is rough , and broken : Qua per salebras , altaque saxa cadunt . And if it would come gently , they trouble it of purpose . They would not have it run without rubs , as if that stile were more strong and manly , that stroke the eare with a kind of unevenesse . These men erre not by chance , but knowingly , and willingly ; they are like men that affect a fashion by themselves , have some singularity in a Ruffe , Cloake , or Hat-band ; or their beards , specially cut to provoke beholders , and set a marke upon themselves . They would be reprehended , while they are look'd on . And this vice , one that is in authority with the rest , loving , delivers over to them to bee imitated : so that oft-times the faults which he fell into , the others seeke for : This is the danger , when vice becomes a Precedent .

Others there are , that have no composition at all ; but a kind of tuneing , and riming fall , in what they write . It runs and slides , and onely makes a sound . Womens - Poets they are call'd . as you have womens - Taylors .

They write a verse , as smooth , as soft , as creame ; In which there is no torrent , nor scarce streame .

You may sound these wits , and find the depth of them , with your middle finger . They are Cream-bowle , or but puddle deepe .

Some that turne over all bookes , and are equally searching in all papers , that write out of what they presently find or meet , without choice ; by which meanes it happens , that what they have discredited , and impugned in one worke , they have before , or after extolled the same in another . Such are all the Essayists , even their Master Mountaigne . Mic. de Montaigne . These in all they write , confesse still what bookes they have read last ; and therein their owne folly , so much , that they bring it to the Stake raw , and undigested : not that the place did need it neither ; but that they thought themselves furnished , and would vent it .

Some againe , who ( after they have got authority , or , which is lesse , opinion , by their writings , to have read much ) dare presently to faine whole bookes , and Authors , and lye safely . For what never was , will not easily be found ; not by the most curious .

And some , by a cunning protestation against all reading , and false venditation of their owne naturals , thinke to divert the sagacity of their Readers from themselves , and coole the sent of their owne fox-like thefts ; when yet they are so ranke , as a man may find whole pages together usurp'd from one Author . Their necessities compelling them to read for present use , which could not be in many books ; and so come forth more ridiculously , and palpably guilty , then those ; who because they cannot trace , they yet would slander their industry .

But the Wretcheder are the obstinate contemners of all helpes , and Arts : such as presuming on their owne Naturals ( which perhaps are excellent ) dare deride all diligence , and seeme to mock at the termes , when they understand not the things ; thinking that way to get off wittily , with their Ignorance . These are imitated often by such , as are their Peeres in negligence , though they cannot be in nature : And they utter all they can thinke , with a kind of violence , and indisposition ; unexamin'd , without relation , either to person , place , or any fitnesse else ; an the more wilfull , and stubborne , they are in it , the more learned they are esteem'd of the multitude , through their excellent vice of Judgement ; Who thinke those things the stronger , that have no Art : as if to breake , were better then to open ; or to rent asunder , gentler then to loose .

It cannot but come to passe , that these men , who commonly seeke to doe more then enough , may sometimes happen on some thing that is good , and great ; but very seldome : And when it comes , it doth not recompence the rest of their ill . For their jests , and their sentences ( which they onely , and ambitiously seeke for ) sticke out , and are more eminent ; because all is sordid , and vile about them ; as lights are more discern'd in a thick darkenesse , then a faint shadow . Now because they speake all they can ( how ever unfitly ) they are thought to have the greater copy ; Where the learned use ever election , and a meane ; they looke back to what they intended at first , and make all an even , and proportion'd body . The true Artificer will not run away from nature , as hee were afraid of her ; or depart from life , and the likenesse of Truth ; but speake to the capacity of his hearers . And though his language differ from the vulgar somewhat ; it shall not fly from all humanity , with the Tamerlanes , and Tamer-Chams , of the late Age , which had nothing in them but the scenicall strutting , and furious vociferation , to warrant them them to the ignorant gapers . Hee knowes it is his onely Art , so to carry it , as none but Artificers perceive it . In the meane time perhaps hee is call'd barren , dull , leane , a poore Writer ( or by what contumelious word can come in their cheeks ) by these men , who without labour , judgement , knowledge , or almost sense , are received , or preferr'd before him . He gratulates them , and their fortune . An other Age , or juster men , will acknowledge the vertues of his studies : his wisdome , in dividing : his subtilty , in arguing : with what strength hee doth inspire his Readers : with what sweetnesse , hee strokes them ; in inveighing : what sharpenesse ; in Jest , what urbanity hee uses . How he doth raigne in mens affections ; how invade , and breake in upon them ; and makes their minds like the thing he writes . Then in his Elocution to behold , what word is proper : which hath ornament : which height : what is beautifully translated : where figures are fit : which gentle , which strong to shew the composition Manly . And how hee hath avoyded , faint , obscure , obscene , sordid , humble , improper , or effeminate Phrase ; which is not only prais'd of the most , but commended , ( which is worse ) especially for that it is naught .

Ignorantia anima . I know no disease of the Soule , but Ignorance ; not of the Arts , and Sciences , but of it selfe : Yet relating to those , it is a pernicious evill : the darkner of mans life : the disturber of his Reason , and common Confounder of Truth : with which a man goes groping in the darke , no otherwise , then if hee were blind . Great understandings are most wrack'd and troubled with it : Nay , sometimes they will rather choose to dye , then not to know the things , they study for . Thinke then what an evill it is : and what good the contrary .

Scientia . Knowledge is the action of the Soule ; and is perfect without the senses , as having the seeds of all Science , and Vertue in its selfe : but not without the service of the senses : by those Organs , the Soule workes : She is a perpetuall Agent , prompt and subtile ; but often flexible , and erring ; intangling her selfe like a Silke-worme : But her Reason is a weapon with two edges , and cuts through . In her Indagations oft-times new Sents put her by ; and shee takes in errors into her , by the same conduits she doth Truths .

Otium . Ease , and relaxation , are profitable to all studies . The mind is like a Bow , the stronger by being unbent . But the temper in Spirits is all , when to command a mans wit ; when to favour it . I have knowne a man vehement on both sides ; that knew no meane , either to intermit his studies , or call upon them againe . When hee hath set himselfe to wriing , hee would joyne night to day ; presse upon himselfe without release , not minding it , till hee fainted : and when hee left off , resolve himselfe into all sports , and loosenesse againe ; that it was almost a despaire to draw him to his booke : But once got to it , hee grew stronger , and more earnest by the ease . His whole Powers were renew'd : he would worke out of himselfe , what hee desired ; but with such excesse , as his study could not bee rul'd : Studiorum . hee knew not how to dispose his owne Abilities , or husband them , hee was of that immoderate power against himselfe . Nor was hee only a strong , but an absolute Speaker , and Writer : but his subtilty did not shew it selfe ; his judgement thought that a vice . For the ambush hurts more that is hid . Hee never forc'd his language , nor went out of the high-way of speaking ; but for some great necessity , or apparent profit . For hee denied Figures to be invented for ornament , but for ayde ; and still thought it an extreme madnesse to bend , or wrest that which ought to be right .

It is no Wonder , mens eminence appeares but in their owne way . Et stili eminentia . Virgil . Tully . Salust . Plato . Virgils felicity left him in prose , as Tullies forsooke him in verse . Salusts Orations are read in the honour of Story : yet the most eloquent Plato's speech , which he made for Socrates , is neither worthy or the Patron , or the Person defended . Nay , in the same kind of Oratory , and where the matter is one , you shall have him that reasons strongly , open negligently : another that prepares well , not fit so well : and this happens , not onely to braines , but to bodies . One can wrastle well ; another runne well ; a third leape , or throw the barre ; a fourth lift , or stop a Cart going : Each hath his way of strength . So in other creatures ; some dogs are for the Deere : some for the wild Boare : some are Fox-hounds : some Otter-hounds . Nor are all horses for the Coach , or Saddle ; some are for the Cart , and Panniers .

I have knowne many excellent men , that would speake suddenly , De claris Oratoribu● to the admiration of their hearers ; who upon study , and premeditation have beene forsaken by their owne wits ; and no way answered their fame : Their eloquence was greater , then their reading : and the things they uttered , better then those they knew . Their fortune deserved better of them , then their care . For men of present spirits , and of greater wits , then study , doe please more in the things they invent , then in those they bring . And I have heard some of them compell'd to speake , out of necessity , that have so infinitly exceeded themselves , as it was better , both for them , and their Auditory , that they were so surpriz'd , not prepar'd . Nor was it safe then to crosse them , for their adversary , their anger made them more eloquent . Yet these men I could not but love , and admire , that they return'd to their studies . They left not diligence ( as many doe ) when their rashnesse prosper'd . For diligence is a great ayde , even to an indifferent wit ; when wee are not contented with the examples of our owne Age , but would know the face of the former . Indeed , the more wee conferre with , the more wee profit by , if the persons be chosen .

One , though hee be excellent , and the chiefe , Dominus Verulanus . is not to bee imitated alone . For never no Imitator , ever grew up to his Author ; likenesse is alwayes on this side Truth : Yet there hapn'd , in my time , one noble Speaker , who was full of gravity in his speaking . His language , ( where hee could spare , or passe by a jest ) was nobly censorious . No man ever spake more neatly , more presly , more weightily , or suffer'd lesse emptinesse , lesse idlenesse , in what hee utter'd . No member of his speech , but consisted of the owne graces . His hearers could not cough , or looke aside from him , without losse . Hee commanded where hee spoke ; and had his Judges angry , and pleased at his devotion . No man had their affections more in his power . The feare of every man that heard him , was , lest hee should make an end .

Scriptorum Catalogus . Sir Thomas Moore . Sir Thomas Wiat. Hen: Earle of Surrey . Sir Thomas Chaloner . Sir Thomas Smith . Sir Thomas Eliot . B. Gardiner . Sir Nic: Bacon . L.K. Sir Philip Sydney . M. Richard Hooker . Rob. Earle of Essex . Sir Walter Raleigh . Sir Henry Savile . Sir Edwin Sands . Sir Thomas Egerton . L. C. Sir Francis Bacon . L. C. De Augmentis scientiarum . Iulius Caesar . Lord S. Albane . Horat: de art : Poetica . De corruptela morum . Cicero is said to bee the only wit , that the people of Rome had equall'd to their Empire . Ingenium par imperio . We have had many , and in their severall Ages , ( to take in but the former Seculum . ) Sir Thomas Moore , the elder Wiat ; Henry , Earle of Surrey ; Chaloner , Smith , Cliot , B. Gardiner , were for their times admirable : and the more , because they began Eloquence with us . Sir Nico : Bacon , was singular , and almost alone , in the beginning of Queene Elizabeths times . Sir Philip Sidney , and Mr. Hooker ( in different matter ) grew great Masters of wit , and language ; and in whom all vigour of Invention , and strength of judgement met . The Earle of Essex , noble and high ; and Sir Walter Rawleigh , not to be contemn'd , either for judgement , or stile . Sir Henry Savile grave , and truly letter'd ; Sir Edwin Sandes , excellent in both : Lo: Egerton , the Chancellor , a grave , and great Orator ; and best , when hee was provok'd . But his learned , and able ( though unfortunate ) Successor ) is he , who hath fill'd up all numbers ; and perform'd that in our tongue , which may be compar'd , or preferr'd , either to insolent Greece , or haughty Rome . In short , within his view , and about his times , were all the wits borne , that could honour a language , or helpe study . Now things daily fall : wits grow downe-ward , and Eloquence growes back-ward : So that hee may be nam'd , and stand as the marke , and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 of our language .

I have ever observ'd it , to have beene the office of a wise Patriot , among the greatest affaires of the State , to take care of the Common-wealth of Learning . For Schooles , they are the Seminaries of State : and nothing is worthier the study of a States-man , then that part of the Republicke , which wee call the advancement of Letters . Witnesse the care of Iulius Caesar ; who in the heat of the civill warre , writ his bookes of Analogie , and dedicated them to Tully . This made the late Lord S. Albane , entitle his worke , nonum Organum . Which though by the most of superficiall men ; who cannot get beyond the Title of Nominals , it is not penetrated , nor understood : it really openeth all defects of Learning , whatsoever ; and is a Booke .

Qui longum noto scriptori porriget aevum .

My conceit of his Person was never increased toward him , by his place , or honours . But I have , and doe reverence him for the greatnesse , that was onely proper to himselfe , in that hee seem'd to mee ever , by his worke one of the greatest men , and most worthy of admiration , that had beene in many Ages . In his adversity I ever prayed , that God would give him strength : for Greatnesse hee could not want . Neither could I condole in a word , or syllable for him ; as knowing no Accident could doe harme to vertue ; but rather helpe to make it manifest .

There cannot be one colour of the mind ; an other of the wit . If the mind be staid , grave , and compos'd ; the wit is so , that vitiated , the other is blowne , and deflowr'd . Doe wee not see , if the mind languish , the members are dull ? Looke upon an effeminate person : his very gate confesseth him . If a man be fiery , his motion is so : if angry , 't is troubled , and violent . So that wee may conclude : Wheresoever , manners , and fashions are corrupted ; Language is . It imitates the publicke riot . The excesse of Feasts , and apparell , are the notes of a sick State ; and the wantonnesse of language , of a sick mind .

If wee would consider , what our affaires are indeed ; De rebus mundanis . not what they are call'd , wee should find more evils belong us , then happen to us . How often doth that , which was call'd a calamity , prove the beginning , and cause of a mans happinesse ? And on the contrary : that which hapned , or came to an other with great gratulation , and applause , how it hath lifted him , but a step higher to his ruine ! As , if hee stood before , where hee might fall safely . Vulgi mores .

The vulgar are commonly ill-natur'd ; and alwayes grudging against their Governours : which makes , that a Prince has more busines , and trouble with them , then ever Hercules had with the Bull , or any other beast : by how much they have more heads , then will be rein'd with one bridle . There was not that variety of beasts in the Arke ; as is of beastly natures in the multitude ; especially when they come to that iniquity , to censure their Soveraign's actions . Then all the Counsels are made good , Morbus Comitial● . or bad by the events . And it falleth out , that the same facts receive from them the names ; now of diligence ; now , of vanity ; now of Majesty ; now of fury : where they ought wholy to hang on his mouth ; as hee to consist of himselfe ; and not others counsels . Princeps .

After God , nothing is to be lov'd of man like the Prince : He violates nature , that doth it not with his whole heart . For when hee hath put on the care of the publike good , and common safety ; I am a wretch , and put o● man , if I doe not reverence , and honour him : in whose charge all things divine and humane are plac'd . Doe but aske of nature , why all living creatures are lesse delighted with meat , and drinke , that sustaines them , then with Venery , that wastes them . And she will tell thee , the first respects but a private ; the other , a common good , Propagation . De eodem .

Hee is the Arbiter of life , and death : when hee finds no other subject for his mercy , hee should spare himselfe . Orpheus hymn . All his punishments are rather to correct , then to destroy . Why are prayers with Orpheus said to be the daughters of Iupiter ; but that Princes are thereby admonished , that the petitions of the wretched , ought to have more weight with them , then the Lawes themselves .

It was a great acculation to his Majesties deserved prayse ; De opt . Rege Iacobo . that men might openly visit , and pitty those , whom his greatest prisons had at any time received , or his Lawes condemned .

Wise , is rather the Attribute of a Prince , then learned , or good . De Print : adjunctie . — Sed verè prudens hand concipi possit Princeps , nisi — simul & bonus . Licurgus . Sylla . Lysander . Cyrus . The learned man profits others , rather then himselfe : the good man , rather himselfe then others : But the Prince commands others , and doth himselfe . The wise Licurgus gave no Law , but what himselfe kept . Sylla , and Lysander , did not so : the one living , extreamely dissolute himselfe , inforced frugality by the Lawes : the other permitted those Licences to others , which himselfe abstained from . But the Princes Prudence is his chiefe Art , and safety . In his Counsels , and deliberations hee foresees the future times . In the equity of his judgement , hee hath remembrance of the past ; and knowledge of what is to bee done , or avoyded for the present . Hence the Persians gave out their Cyrus , to have beene nurs'd by a Bitch , a creature to encounter it ; as of sagacity to seeke out good ; shewing that Wisdome may accompany fortitude , or it leaves to be , and puts on the name of Rashnesse .

De maligu : studentium . There be some men are borne only to sucke out the poyson of bookes : Habent venenum pro victu : imò , pro deliciis . And such are they that only rellish the obscene , and foule things in Poets : Which makes the profession taxed . But by whom ? men , that watch for it , ( and had they not had this hint ) are so unjust valuers of Letters ; as they thinke no Learning good , but what brings in gaine . It shewes they themselves would never have beene of the professions they are ; but for the profits and fees . But , if an other Learning , well used , can instruct to good life , informe manners ; no lesse perswade , and leade men , then they threaten , and compell , and have no reward , is it therefore the worse study ? I could never thinke the study of Wisdome confin'd only to the Philosopher : or of Poetry to the Divine : or of State to the Politicke . But that he which can faine a Common-wealth ( which is the Poet ) can gowne it with Counsels , strengthen it with Lawes , correct it with Iudgements , informe it with Religion , and Morals ; is all these . Wee doe not require in him meere Elocution ; or an excellent faculty in verse ; but the exact knowledge of all vertues ; and their Contraries ; with ability to render the one lov'd , the other hated , by his proper embattaling them . The Philosophers did insolently , to challenge only to themselves that which the greatest Generals , and gravest Counsellors never durst . For such had rather doe , then promise the best things .

Controvers. scriptores . Some Controverters in Divinity are like Swaggerers in a Taverne , that catch that which stands next them ; the candlesticke , or pots ; turne every thing into a weapon : More Andabatarum , qui clausis oculis pugnant . oft times they fight blind-fold ; and both beate the Ayre . The one milkes a Hee-goat , the other holds under a Sive . Their Arguments are as fluxive as liquour spilt upon a Table ; which with your finger you may draine as you will . Such Controversies , or Disputations , ( carried with more labour , then profit ) are odious : where most times the Truth is lost in the midst ; or left untouch'd . And the fruit of their fight is ; that they spit one upon another , and are both defil'd . These Fencers in Religion , I like not .

Morbi . The Body hath certaine diseases , that are with lesse evill tolerated , then remov'd . As if to cure a Leprosie , a man should bathe himselfe with the warme blood of a murthered Child : So in the Church , some errors may be dissimuled with lesse inconvenience , then can be discover'd .

Iactantia intempestiva . Men that talke of their owne benefits , are not beleev'd to talke of them , because they have done them : but to have done them , because they might talke of them . That which had beene great , if another had reported it of them , vanisheth ; and is nothing , if hee that did it speake of it . For men , when they cannot destroy the deed , will yet be glad to take advantage of the boasting , and lessen it .

Adulatio . I have seene , that Poverty makes men doe unfit things ; but honest men should not doe them : they should gaine otherwise . Though a man bee hungry , hee should not play the Parasite . That houre , wherein I would repent me to be honest : there were wayes enow open for me to be rich . But Flattery is a fine Pick-lock of tender eares : especially of those , whom fortune hath borne high upon their wings , that submit their dignity , and authority to it , by a soothing of themselves . For indeed men could never be taken , in that abundance , with the Sprindges of others Flattery , if they began not there ; if they did but remember , how much more profitable the bitternesse of Truth were , then all the honey distilling from a whorish voice ; which is not praise , but poyson . But now it is come to that extreme folly , or rather madnesse with some : that he that flatters them modestly , or sparingly , is thought to maligne them . If their friend consent not to their vices , though hee doe not contradict them ; hee is neverthelesse an enemy . When they doe all things the worst way , even then they looke for praise . Nay , they will hire fellowes to flatter them with suites , and suppers , and to prostitute their judgements . They have Livery-friends , friends of the dish , and of the Spit , that waite their turnes , as my Lord has his feasts , and guests .

I have considered , our whole life is like a Play : De vita humana . Wherein every man forgetfull of himselfe , is in travaile with expression of another . Nay , wee so insist in imitating others , as wee cannot ( when it is necessary ) returne to ourselves : like Children , that imitate the vices of Stammerers so long , till at last they become such ; and make the habit to another nature , as it is never forgotten .

Good men are the Stars the Planets of the Ages wherein they live , De piis & probis . and illustrate the times . God did never let them be wanting to the world : As Abel , for an example , of Innocency ; Enoch of Purity , Noah of Trust in Gods mercies , Abraham of Faith , and so of the rest . These sensuall men thought mad , because they would not be partakers , or practisers of their madnesse . But they plac'd high on the top of all vertue , look'd downe on the Stage of the world , and contemned the Play of Fortune . For though the most be Players , some must be Spectators .

I have discovered , that a fain'd familiarity in great ones , Mores Aulici . is a note of certaine usurpation on the lesse . For great and popular men , faine themselves to bee servants to others , to make those slaves to them . So the Fisher provides baits for the Trowte , Roch , Dace , &c. that they may be food to him .

The Complaint of Caligula , was most wicked , Impiorum querela . Augustus , Varus . Tiberius . of the condition of his times : when hee said ; They were not famous by any publike calamity , as the reigne of Augustus was , by the defeat of Varus , and the Legions ; and that of Tiberius , by the falling of the Theater at Iidenae : whilst his oblivion was eminent , through the prosperity of his affaires . As that other voice of his , was worthier a heads-man , then a head ; when hee wished the people of Rome had but one neck . But he found ( when he fell ) they had many hands . A Tyranne , how great and mighty soever hee may seeme to Cowards and Sluggards ; is but one creature , one Animal .

I have mark'd among the Nobility , Nobilium Ingenia . some are so addicted to the service of the Prince , and Common-wealth , as they looke not for spoyle ; such are to be honour'd , and lov'd . There are others , which no obligation will fasten on ; and they are of two sorts . The first are such as love their owne ease : or , out of vice , of nature , or selfe-directio● avoide busines and care . Yet , these the Prince may use with safety . The other remove themselves upon craft , and designe ( as the Architects say ) with a premeditated thought to their owne , rather then their Princes profit . Such let the Prince take heed of , and not doubt to reckon in the List of his open enemies .

Principum varia . — Firmissimaverò omnium basis jus haereditarium Principis — . There is a great variation betweene him , that is rais'd to the Soveraignity , by the favour of his Peeres ; and him that comes to it by the suffrage of the people . The first holds with more difficulty ; because hee hath to doe with many , that thinke themselves his equals ; and rais'd him for their owne greatnesse , and oppression of the rest . The latter hath no upbraiders ; but was rais'd by them , that sought to be defended from oppression : whose end is both the easier , and the honester to satisfie . Beside , while he hath the people to friend , who are a multitude , he hath the lesse feare of the Nobility , who are but few . Nor let the common Proverbe of ( Hee that builds on the people , builds on the dirt ) discredit my opinion : For that hath only place , where an ambitious , and private person , for some popular end , trusts in them against the publike Justice , and Magistrate . There they will leave him . But when a Prince governs them , so as they have still need of his Administration ( for that is his Art ) hee shall ever make , and hold them faithfull .

Clementia . A Prince should exercise his cruelty , not by himselfe , but by his Ministers : so hee may save himselfe , and his dignity with his people , by sacrificing those , Macchiavell . when he list , saith the great Doctor of State , Macchiavell . But I say , he puts off man , and goes into a beast , that is cruell . No vertue is a Princes owne ; or becomes him more , then this Clemency : And no glory is greater , then to be able to save with his power . Many punishments sometimes , and in some cases as much discredit a Prince , as many Funerals a Physician . The state of things is secur'd by Clemency ; Severity represseth a few , but it irritates more . * * Haud infima ars in Principe , ubi lenitas , ubi severitas — plùs polleat in commune bonum callere . Clementia tutelat opima . St. Nicolas . The lopping of trees makes the boughes shoote out thicker ; And the taking away of some kind of enemies , increaseth the number . It is then , most gracious in a Prince to pardon , when many about him would make him cruell ; to thinke then , how much he can save , when others tell him , how much he can destroy : not to consider , what the impotence of others hath demolish'd ; but what his owne greatnesse can sustaine . There are a Princes vertues ; And they that give him other counsels , are but the Hangmans Factors .

Hee that is cruell to halfes , ( saith the said St. Nicolas ) looseth no lesse the opportunity of his cruelty , then of his benefits : For then to use his cruelty , is too late ; and to use his favours will be interpreted feare and necessity ; and so hee looseth the thankes . Still the counsell is cruelty . But Princes by harkning to cruell counsels , become in time obnoxious to the Authors , their Flatterers , and Ministers ; and are brought to that , that when they would , they dare not change them : they must goe on , and defend cruelty with cruelty : they cannot alter the Habit. It is then growne necessary , they must be as ill , as those have made them : And in the end , they will grow more hatefull to themselves , then to their Subjects . Whereas , on the contrary , the mercifull Prince is safe in love , not in feare . Hee needs no Emissaries , Spies , Intelligencers , to intrap true Subjects . Hee feares no Libels , no Treasons . His people speake , what they thinke ; and talke openly , what they doe in secret . They have nothing in their brests , that they need a Cipher for . He is guarded with his owne benefits .

Religio . Palladium Homeri . The strength of Empire is in Religion . What else is the Palladium , ( with Homer ) that kept Troy so long from sacking ? Nothing more commends the Soveraigne to the Subject , then it . For hee that is religious , must be mercifull and just necessarily . And they are too strong ties upon mankind . Justice is the vertue , that Innocence rejoyceth in . Yet even that is not always so safe ; but it may love to stand in the sight of mercy . For sometimes misfortune is made a crime , and then Innocence is succor'd , no lesse then vertue . Nay , often times vertue is made Capitall : and through the condition of the times , it may happen , that that may be punish'd with our praise . Let no man therefore murmure at the Actions of the Prince , who is plac'd so farre above him . If hee offend , he hath his Discoverer . God hath a height beyond him . But where the Prince is good , Euripides saith : God is a Guest in a humane body . Euripides . Tyranni .

There is nothing with some Princes sacred above their Majesty ; or prophane , but what violates their Scepters . But a Prince with such Counsell , is like the God Terminus , of Stone , his owne Land-marke ; or ( as it is in the Fable ) a crowned Lyon . It is dangerous offending such an one ; who being angry , knowes not how to forgive . That cares not to doe any thing , for maintaining , or inlarging of Empire ; kils not men , or Subjects ; but destroyeth whole Countries , Armies , mankind , male , and female ; guilty or not guilty , holy or prophane : Yea , some that have not seene the light . All is under the Law of their spoyle , and licence . But Princes that neglect their proper office thus , their fortune is often times to draw a Scianus , to be neere about him ; Scianus . who will at last affect to get above ' him , and put them in a worthy feare , of rooting both them out , and their family . For no men hate an evill Prince more , then they , that help'd to make him such . And none more boastingly , weepe his ruine , then they , that procur'd and practis'd it . The same path leads to ruine , which did to rule , when men professe a Licence in governing . A good King is a publike Servant .

A Prince without Letters , is a Pilot without eyes . Illiteratus Princeps . All his Government is groping . In Soveraignity it is a most happy thing , not to be compelled ; but so it is the most miserable not to be counsell'd . And how can he be counsell'd that cannot see to read the best Counsellors ( which are books . ) For they neither flatter us , nor hide from us ? Hee may heare , you will say . But how shall he alwayes be sure to heare Truth ? or be counsell'd the best things , not the sweetest ? They say Princes learne no Art truly , but the Art of Horse-manship . The reason is , the brave beast is no flatterer . Hee will throw a Prince , as soone , as his Groome . Which is an Argument , that the good Counsellors to Princes are the best instruments of a good Age. For though the Prince himselfe be of most prompt inclination to to all vertue : Yet the best Pilots have need of Mariners , beside Sayles , Anchor , and other Tackle .

If men did know , what shining fetters , guilded miseries , Character . Principis . and painted happinesse , Thrones and Scepters were . There would not bee so frequent strife about the getting , or holding of them . There would be more Principalities , then Princes . For a Prince is the Pastor of the people . Hee ought to sheere , no to flea his sheepe ; to take their fleeces , not their fels . Who were his enemies before , being a private man , become his children , now hee is publike . Hee is the soule of the Common-wealth ; and ought to cherish it , as his owne body . Alexander the Great was wont to say : Hee hated that Gardiner , that pluck'd his herbes , Alexander magnus . or flowers up by the roots . A man may milke a beast , till the blood come : Churne milke , and it yeeldeth butter : but wring the nose , and the blood followeth . Hee is an ill Prince , that so puls his Subjects feathers , as hee would not have them grow againe : that makes his Exchequer a receipt for the spoyles of those hee governs . No , let him keepe his owne , not affect his Subjects : strive rather to be call'd just , then powerfull . Not , like the Romans Tyrans , affect the Surnames that grow by humane slaughters : Neither to seeke warre in peace , or peace in warre ; but to observe faith given , though to an Enemy . Study Piety toward the Subject : Shew care to defend him . Bee slow to punish in diverse cases ; but be a sharpe , and severe Revenger of open crimes . Breake no decrees , or dissolve no orders , to slacken the strength of Lawes . Choose neither Magistrates civill , or Ecclesiastick , by favour , or Price : but with long disquisition , and report of their worth , by all Suffrages . Sell no honours , nor give them hastily ; but bestow them with counsell , and for reward ; If hee doe acknowledge it , ( though late ) and mend it . For Princes are easie to be deceiv'd . And what wisdome can escape it ; where so many Court - Arts are studied ? But above all , the Prince is to remember , that when the great day of Account comes , which neither Magistrate , nor Prince can shunne , there will be requir'd of him a reckoning for those , whom hee hath trusted ; as for himselfe , which hee must provide . And if Piety be wanting in the Priests , Equity in the Iudges , or the Magistrate be found rated at a price ; what Iustice or Religion is to be expected ? which are the only two Attributes make Kings a kinne to Gods ; and is the Delphick sword , both to kill Sacrifices , and to chastise offenders .

De Gratiosis . When a vertuous man is rais'd , it brings gladnesse to his friends : griefe to his enemies , and glory to his Posterity . Nay his honours are a great part of the honour of the times : when by this meanes he is growne to active men , an example ; to the sloathfull , a spurre ; to the envious , a Punishment .

Divites . Hee , which is sole heire to many rich men , having ( beside his Fathers , and Vncles ) the states of diverse his kindred come to him by accession ; must needs bee richer then Father , or Gran-father : So they which are left heires ex Asse , Haeredes ex Asse . of all their Ancestors vices ; and by their good husbandry improve the old , and daily purchase new ; must needs be wealthier in vice , and have a greater revenue , or stock of ill to spend on .

Fures Publici . The great theeves of a State are lightly the officers of the Crowne ; they hang the lesse still ; play the Pikes in the Pond ; eate whom they list . The Net was never spread for the Hawke or Buzzard that hurt us , but the harmelesse birds , they are good meate .

Invenalis . Dat veni am corvis , vexat censura columbas . Plautus . Non rete Accipitri tenditur , neque milvo .

But they are not alwayes safe , though especially , when they meet with wise Masters . They can take downe all the huffe , and swelling of their lookes ; and like dexterous Auditors , place the Counter , where he shall value nothing . Lewis xi . Let them but remember Lewis the eleventh , who to a Clarke of the Exchequer , that came to be Lord Treasurer , and had ( for his device ) represented himselfe sitting upon fortunes wheele : told him , hee might doe well to fasten it with a good strong nayle , lest turning about , it might bring him , where hee was againe . As indeed it did .

A good man will avoide the spot of any sinne . De bonis e● malis . The very aspersion is grievous : which makes him choose his way in his life , as hee would in his journey . The Ill-man rides through all confidently ; hee is coated , and booted for it . The oftner hee offends , the more openly ; and the fowler , the fitter in fashion . His modesty like a riding Coat , the more it is worne , is the lesse car'd for . It is good enough for the durt still ; and the wayes he travels in . An Innocent man needs no Eloquence : De Innocentiâ . his Innocence is in stead of it : else I had never come off so many times from these Precipices , whether mens malice hath pursued me . It is true , I have beene accus'd to the Lords , to the King ; and by great ones : but it hap'ned my accusers had not thought of the Accusation with themselves ; and so were driven for want of crimes , to use invention , which was found slander : or too late , ( being entred so farre ) to seeke starting holes for their rashnesse , which were not given them . And then they may thinke , what accusation that was like to prove , when they , that were the Ingineers , fear'd to be the Authors . Nor were they content , to faine things against mee , but to urge things fain'd by the Ignorant , against my profession ; which though from their hired , and mercenary impudence , I might have past by , as granted to a Nation of Barkers , that let out their tongues to lick others sores ; yet I durst not leave my selfe undefended , having a paire of eares unskilfull to heare lyes ; or have those things said of me , which I could truly prove of them . They objected , making of verses to me , when I could object to most of them , their not being able to reade them , but as worthy of scorne . Nay , they would offer to urge mine owne Writings against me ; but by pieces , ( which was an excellent way of malice ) as if any man s Context , might not seeme dangerous , and offensive , if that which was knit , to what went before , were defrauded of his beginning ; or that things by themselves utter'd , might not seeme subject to Calumnie , which read entire , would appeare most free . At last they upbraided my poverty ; I confesse , shee is my Domestick ; sober of diet , simple of habit ; frugall , painefull ; a good Counsellers to me ; that keepes me from Cruelty , Pride , or other more delicate impertinences ; which are the Nurse-children of Riches . But let them looke over all the great , and monstruous wickednesses , they shall never find those in poore families . They are the issue of the wealthy Giants , and the mighty Hunters : Whereas no great worke , or worthy of praise , or memory , but came out of poore cradles . It was the ancient poverty , that founded Common-weales ; built Cities , invented Arts , made wholesome Lawes ; armed men against vices ; rewarded them with their owne vertues ; and preserv'd the honour , and state of Nations , till they betray'd themselves to Riches .

Money never made any man rich , but his mind . Amor nummi . He that can order himselfe to the Law of nature , is not onely without the sense , but the feare of poverty . O! but to strike blind the people with our wealth , and pompe , is the thing ! what a wretchednesse is this , to thrust all our riches outward , and be beggars within : to contemplate nothing , but the little , vile , and fordid things of the world ; not the great , noble , and pretious ? wee serve our avarice , and not content with the good of the Earth , that is offer'd us ; wee search , and digge for the evill that is hidden . God offer'd us those things , and plac'd them at hand , and neere us , that hee knew were profitable for us ; but the hurtfull hee laid deepe , and hid . Yet doe wee seeke onely the things , whereby wee may perish ; and bring them forth , when God and nature hath buried them . Wee covet super-fluous things ; when it were more honour for us , if wee could contemne necessary . What need hath nature of silver dishes , multitudes of Waiters , delicate Pages , perfum'd Napkins ? She requires meat only , and hunger is not ambitious . Can wee thinke no wealth enough , but such a state , for which a man may be brought into a Praemunire , beg'd , proscrib'd , or poyson'd ? O! if a man could restraine the fury of his gullet , and groyne , and thinke how many fires , how many kitchins , Cookes , Pastures , and plough'd Lands ; what Orchards , Stewes , Ponds , and Parkes , Coupes , and Garners he could spare : What Velvets , Tissues , Imbroderies , Laces he could lacke ; and then how short , and uncertaine his life is ; Hee were in a better way to happinesse , then to live the Emperour of these delights ; and be the Dictator of fashions ? But wee make our selves slaves to our pleasures ; and wee serve Fame , and Ambition , which is an equall slavery . Have not I seen the pompe of a whole Kingdome , and what a forraigne King could bring hither . Also to make himselfe gaz'd , and wonder'd at , laid forth as it were to the shew , and vanish all away in a day ? And shall that which could not fill the expectation of few houres , entertaine , and take up our whole lives ? when even it appear'd as superfluous to the Possessors , as to me that was a Spectator . The bravery was shewne , it was not possess'd while it boasted it selfe , it perish'd . It is vile , and a poor thing to place our happinesse on these desires . Say we wanted them all . Famine ends famine .

De mollibus & ●ffaminatis . There is nothing valiant , or solid to bee hop'd for from such , as are alwayes kempt'd , and perfum'd ; and every day smell of the Taylor . The exceedingly curious , that are wholly in mending such an imperfection in the face , in taking away the Morphew in the neck ; or bleaching their hands at Mid-night , gumming , and bridling their beards , or making the waste small , binding it with hoopes , while the mind runs at waste : Too much pickednesse is not manly . Not from those that will jeast at their owne outward imperfections , but hide their ulcers within , their Pride , Lust , Envie , ill nature , with all the art and authority they can . These persons are in danger ; For whilst they thinke to justifie their ignorance by impudence ; and their persons by clothes , and outward ornaments , they use but a Commission to deceive themselves . Where , if wee will looke with our understanding , and not our senses , wee may behold vertue , and beauty , ( though cover'd with rags ) in their brightnesse ; and vice , and deformity so much the fowler , in having all the splendor of riches to guild them , or the false light of honour and power to helpe them . Yet this is that , wherewith the world is taken , and runs mad to gaze on : Clothes and Titles , the Birdlime of Fools .

De st●lti●id . What petty things they are , wee wonder at ? like children , that esteeme every trifle ; and preferre a Fairing before their Fathers : what difference is betweene us , and them ? but that we are dearer Fooles , Cockscombes , at a higher rate . They are pleas'd with Cockleshels , Whistles , Hobby-horses , and such like : wee with Statues , marble Pillars , Pictures , guilded Roofes , where under-neath is Lath , and Lyme ; perhaps Lome . Yet , wee take pleasure in the lye , and are glad , wee can cousen our selves . Nor is it onely in our wals , and feelings ; but all that wee call happinesse , is meere painting , and guilt : and all for money : what a thinne Membrane of honour that is ? and how hath all true reputation falne , since money began to have any ? yet the great heard , the multitude ; that in all other things are divided ; in this alone conspire , and agree : To love money . They wish for it , they embrace it , they adore it ; while yet it is possest with greater stirre , and torment , then it is gotten .

Some men , what losses soever they have , they make them greater : De sibi molestis . and if they have none , even all , that is not gotten , is a losse . Can there be creatures of more wretched condition , then these ; that continually labour under their owne misery , and others envie ? A man should study other things , not to covet , not to feare , not to repent him : To make his Base such , as no Tempest shall shake him : to be secure of all opinion ; and pleasing to himselfe , even for that , wherein he displeaseth others . For the worst opinion gotten for doing well , should delight us : would'st not thou be just , but for fame ; thou ought'st to be it with infamy : Hee that would have his vertue published , is not the servant of vertue , but glory .

It is a dangerous thing , Periculosa Melancholia . when mens minds come to sojourne with their affections , and their diseases eate into their strength : that when too much desire , and greedinesse of vice , hath made the body unfit , or unprofitable ; it is yet gladded with the sight , and spectacle of it in others : and for want of ability to be an Actor ; is content to be a Witnesse . It enjoyes the pleasure of sinning , in beholding others sinne ; as in Dicing , Drinking , Drabbing , &c. Nay , when it cannot doe all these , it is offended with his owne narrownesse , that excludes it from the universall delights of Man-kind ; and oft times dies of a Melancholy , that it cannot be vitious enough .

I am glad , when I see any man avoid the infamy of a vice ; Falsae species fugiendae . but to shun the vice it selfe were better . Till hee doe that , he is but like the Prentise , who being loth to bee spied by his Master , comming forth of Black-Lucis , went in againe ; to whom his Master cried ; the more thou runnest that way to hide thyselfe , the more thou art in the Place . So are those , that keepe a Taverne all day ; that they may not bee seene at night . I have knowne Lawyers , Divines ; yea , great ones of this Heresy .

There is a greater Reverence had of things remote , or strange to us , Decipimur specie . then of much better , if they bee neerer , and fall under our sense . Men , and almost all sort of creatures , have their reputation by distance . Rivers , the farther they runne , and more from their spring , the broader , they are , and greater . And where our originall is knowne , we are the lesse confident : Among strangers wee trust fortune . Yet a man may live as renown'd at home , in his owne countrey , or a private Village , as in the whole world . For it is vertue that gives glory : That will endenizon a man every where . It is onely that can naturalize him . A native , if hee be vitious , deserves to bee a stranger , and cast out of the Common-wealth , as an Alien .

Dejectio Aulic . A dejected countenance , and meane clothes , beget often a contempt ; but it is with the shallowest creatures : Courtiers commonly looke up even with them in a new suite ; you get above 'hem streight . Nothing is more short-liv'd then Pride : It is but while their clothes last ; stay but while these are worne out , you cannot wish the thing more wretched , or dejected .

Poesis , et Pictura . Plutarch . Poetry , and Picture , are Arts of a like nature ; and both are busie about imitation . It was excellently said of Plutarch , Poetry was a speaking Picture , and Picture a mute Poesie . For they both invent , faine , and devise many things , and accommodate all they invent to the use , and service of nature . Yet of the two , the Pen is more noble , then the Pencill . For that can speake to the Understanding ; the other , but to the Sense . They both behold pleasure , and profit , as their common Object ; but should abstaine from all base pleasures , lest they should erre from their end : and while they seeke to better mens minds , destroy their manners . They both are borne Artificers , not made . Nature is more powerfull in them then study .

De Pictura . Whosoever loves not Picture , is injurious to Truth : and all the wisdome of Poetry . Picture is the invention of Heaven : the most ancient , and most a kinne to Nature . It is it selfe a silent worke : and alwayes of one and the same habit : Yet it doth so enter , and penetrate the inmost affection ( being done by an excellent Artificer ) as sometimes it orecomes the power of speech , and oratory . There are diverse graces in it ; so are there in the Artificers . One excels in care , another in reason , a third in easinesse , a fourth in nature and grace . Some have diligence , and comelinesse : but they want Majesty . They can expresse a humane forme in all the graces , sweetnesse , and elegancy ; but they misse the Authority . They can hit nothing but smooth cheeks ; they cannot expresse roughnesse , or gravity . Others aspire to Truth so much , as they are rather Lovers of likenesse , then beauty . Zeuxis , and Parrhasius , are said to be contemporaries : The first , found out the reason of lights , and shadowes in Picture : the other , more subtily examined the lines .

De stylo . Pliny . In Picture , light is requir'd no lesse then shadow : so in stile , height , as well as humblenesse . But beware they be not too humble ; as Pliny pronounc'd of Regulus writings . You would thinke them written , not on a child , but by a child . Many , out of their owne obscene Apprehensions , refuse proper and fit words ; as occupie , nature , and the like : So the curious industry in some of having all alike good , hath come neerer a vice , then a vertue .

De progress . Picturae . Parrhasius . Picture tooke her faining from Poetry : from Geometry her rule , compasse , lines , proportion , and the whole Symmetry . Parrhasius was the first wan reputation , by adding Symmetry to Picture : hee added subtilty to the countenance , elegancy to the haire , love-lines to the face ; and , by the publike voice of all Artificers , deserved honour in the outer lines . Eupompus gave it splendor by numbers , Eupompus . and other elegancies . From the Opticks it drew reasons ; by which it considered , how things plac'd at distance , and a farre off , should appeare lesse : how above , or beneath the head , should deceive the eye , &c. So from thence it tooke shadowes , recessor , light , and heightnings . From morall Philosophy it tooke the soule , the expression of Senses , Perturbations , Manners , when they would paint an angry person , a proud , an inconstant , an ambitious , a brave , a magnanimous , a just , a mercifull , a compassionate , an humble , a dejected , a base , and the like . They made all heightnings bright , all shadowes darke , all swellings from a plane ; all solids from breaking . See * * Plin. lib. 35. c. 2.5.6 & 7. Vitruv. li. 8. & 7. where he complaines of their painting Chimaera's , by the vulgar unaptly called Grottesque : Saying , that men who were borne truly to study , and emulate nature , did nothing but make monsters against nature ; which a a Horat. in arte Poet. Horace so laught at . The Art Plasticke was moulding in clay , or potters earth anciently . This is the Parent of Statuary sculpture , Graving and Picture ; cutting in brasse , and marble , all serve under her . b b Socrates . Parrhasius . Clyto . Socrates taught Parrhasius , and Clito ( two noble Statuaries ) first to expresse manners by their looks in Imagery . c c Polygnotus . Aglaophon Polygnotus , and Aglaophon were ancienter . After them d d Zeuxis . Zeuxis , who was the Law-giver to all Painters : after e e Parrhasius . Parrhasius . They were contemporaries , and liv'd both about Philips time , the Father of Alexander the Great . There liv'd in this latter Age six famous Painters in Italy : who were excellent , and emulous of the Ancients : f f Raphael de urbino . Mich: Angel . Buonarota . Titian . Antonie de Correg . Sebast : de Venet. Iulio Romano . Andrea Sartorio . Raphael de Vrbino , Michel Angelo Buonarota , Titian , Antonie of Correggio , Sebastian of Venice , Iulio Romano , and Andrea Sartorio .

These are Flatterers for their bread , that praise all my oraculous Lord do's or sayes , be it true or false : invent tales that shall please : make baites for his Lordships eares : and if they be not receiv'd in what they offer at , they shift a point of the Compasse , and turne their tale presently tacke about ; deny what they confest , and confesse what they denied ; fit their discourse to the persons , and occasions . What they snatch up , and devoure at one table , utter at another : and grow suspected of the Master , hated of the servants , while they inquire , and reprehend , and compound , and delate busines of the house they have nothing to doe with : They praise my Lords wine , and the sauce he likes ; observe the Cooke , and Bottle-man , while they stand in my Lords favour , speake for a pension for them : but pound them to dust upon my Lords least distaste , * * Parasiti ad mensam . or change of his palate .

How much better is it , to bee silent ; or at least , to speake sparingly ! For it is not enough to speake good , but timely things . If a man be asked a question , to answer , but to repeat the Question , before hee answer , is well , that hee be sure to understand it , to avoid absurdity . For it is lesse dishonour , to heare imperfectly , then to speake imperfectly . The eares are excus'd , the understanding is not . And in things unknown to a man , not to give his opinion , lest by affectation of knowing too much , hee lose the credit hee hath by speaking , or knowing the wrong way , what hee utters . Nor seeke to get his Patrons favour , by imbarking himselfe in the Factions of the Family : to inquire after domesticke simulties , their sports , or affections . They are an odious , and vile kind of creatures , that fly about the house all day ; and picking up the filth of the house , like Pies or Swallowes , carry it to their nest ( the Lords eares ) and oftentimes report the lyes they have fain'd , for what they have seene and heard .

These are call'd instruments of grace , and power , with great persons ; Imò serviles . but they are indeed the Organs of their impotencie , and markes of weaknesse . For sufficient Lords are able to make these Discoveries themselves . Neither will an honourable person inquire , who eats , and drinkes together , what that man playes , whom this man loves ; with whom such a one walkes ; what discourse they held , who sleepes , with whom . They are base , and servile natures , that busie themselves about these disquisitions . How often have I seene , ( and worthily ) these Censors of the family , undertaken by some honest Rustick , and cudgel'd thriftily ? These are commonly the off-scowring , and dregs of men , that doe these things , or calumniate others : Yet I know not truly which is worse ; hee that malignes all , or that praises all . There is as great a vice in praising , and as frequent , as in detracting .

It pleas'd your Lordship of late , to aske my opinion , touching the education of your sonnes , and especially to the advancement of their studies . To which , though I return'd somewhat for the present ; which rather manifested a will in me , then gave any just resolution to the thing propounded : I have upon better cogitation call'd those ayds about mee , both of mind , and memory ; which shall venter my thoughts clearer , if not fuller , to your Lordships demand . I confesse , my Lord , they will seeme but petty , and minute things I shall offer to you , being writ for children , and of them . But studies have their Infancie , as well as creatures . Wee see in men , even the strongest compositions had their beginnings from milke , and the Cradle ; and the wisest tarried sometimes about apting their mouthes to Letters , and syllables . In their education therefore , the care must be the greater had of their beginnings , to know , examine , and weigh their natures ; which though they bee proner in some children to some disciplines ; yet are they naturally prompt to taste all by degrees , and with change . For change is a kind of refreshing in studies , and infuseth knowledge by way of recreation . Thence the Schoole it selfe is call'd a Play , or Game : and all Letters are so best taught to Schollers . They should not be afrighted , or deterr'd in their Entry , but drawne on with exercise , and emulation . A youth should not be made to hate study , before hee know the causes to love it : or taste the bitternesse before the sweet ; but call'd on , and allur'd , intreated , and praised : Yea , when hee deserves it not . For which cause I wish them sent to the best schoole , and a publike ; which I thinke the best . Your Lordship I feare hardly heares of that , as willing to breed them in your eye , and at home ; and doubting their manners may bee corrupted abroad . They are in more danger in your owne Family , among ill servants , ( allowing , they be safe in their Schoole-Master ) then amongst a thousand boyes , however immodest : would wee did not spoyle our owne children , and overthrow their manners our selves by too much Indulgence . To breed them at home , is to breed them in a shade ; where in a schoole they have the light , and heate of the Sunne . They are us'd , and accustom'd to things , and men . When they come forth into the Common-wealth , they find nothing new , or to seeke . They have made their friendships and ayds ; some to last till their Age. They heare what is commanded to others , as well as themselves . Much approv'd , much corrected ; all which they bring to their owne store , and use ; and learne as much , as they heare . Eloquence would be but a poore thing , if wee should onely converse with singulars ; speake , but man and man together . Therefore I like no private breeding . I would send them where their industry should be daily increas'd by praise ; and that kindled by emulation . It is a good thing to inflame the mind : And though Ambition it selfe be a vice , it is often the cause of great vertue . Give me that wit , whom praise excites , glory puts on , or disgrace grieves : hee is to bee nourish'd with Ambition , prick'd forward with honour ; check'd with Reprehension ; and never to bee suspected of sloath . Though hee be given to play , it is a signe of spirit , and livelinesse ; so there be a meane had of their sports , and relaxations . And from the rodde , or ferule , I would have them free , as from the menace of them : for it is both deformed , and servile .

For a man to write well , there are required three Necessaries . De stylo , ●● optimo scribendi genere . To reade the best Authors , observe the best Speakers : and much exercise of his owne style . In style to consider , what ought to be written ; and after what manner ; Hee must first thinke , and excogitate his matter ; then choose his words , and examine the weight of either . Then take care in placing , and ranking both matter , and words , that the composition becomely ; and to doe this with diligence , and often . No matter how slow the style be at first , so it be labour'd , and accurate ; seeke the best , and be not glad of the forward conceipts , or first words , that offer themselves to us , but judge of what wee invent ; and order what wee approve . Repeat often , what wee have formerly written ; which beside , that it helpes the consequence , and makes the juncture better , it quickens the heate of imagination , that often cooles in the time of setting downe , and gives it new strength , as if it grew lustier , by the going back . As wee see in the contention of leaping , they jumpe farthest , that fetch their race largest : or , as in throwing a Dart , or Iavelin , wee force back our armes , to make our loose the stronger . Yet , if we have a faire gale of wind , I forbid not the steering out of our fayle , so the favour of the gale deceive us not . For all that wee invent doth please us in the conception , or birth ; else we would never set it downe . But the safest is to returne to our Judgement , and handle over againe those things , the easinesse of which might make them justly suspected . So did the best Writers in their beginnings ; they impos'd upon themselves care , and industry . They did nothing rashly . They obtain'd first to write well , and then custome made it easie , and a habit . By little and little , their matter shew'd it selfe to 'hem more plentifully ; their words answer'd , their composition followed ; and all , as in a well order'd family , presented it selfe in the place . So that the summe of all is : Ready writing makes not good writing ; but good writing brings on ready writing : Yet when wee thinke wee have got the faculty , it is even then good to resist it : as to give a Horse a check sometimes with bit , which doth not so much stop his course , as stirre his mettle . Againe , whether a mans Genius is best able to reach thither , it should more and more contend , lift and dilate it selfe , as men of low stature , raise themselves on their toes ; and so oft times get even , if not eminent . Besides , as it is fit for grown and able Writers to stand of themselves , and worke with their owne strength , to trust and endeavour by their owne faculties : so it is fit for the beginner , and learner , to study others , and the best . For the mind , and memory are more sharpely exercis'd in comprehending an other mans things , then our owne ; and such as accustome themselves , and are familiar with the best Authors , shall ever and anon find somewhat of them in themselves , and in the expression of their minds , even when they feele it not , be able to utter something like theirs , which hath an Authority above their owne . Nay , sometimes it is the reward of a mans study , the praise of quoting an other man fitly : And though a man be more prone , and able for one kind of writing , then another , yet hee must exercise all . For as in an Instrument , so in style , there must be a Harmonie , and consent of parts .

Precipiendi modi . I take this labour in teaching others , that they should not be alwayes to bee taught ; and I would bring my Precepts into practise . For rules are ever of lesse force , and valew , then experiments . Yet with this purpose , rather to shew the right way to those that come after , then to detect any that have slipt before by errour , and I hope it will bee more profitable . For men doe more willingly listen , and with more favour to precept , then reprehension . Among diverse opinions of an Art , and most of them contrary in themselves , it is hard to make election ; and therefore , though a man cannot invent new things after so many , he may doe a welcome worke yet to helpe posterity to judge rightly of the old . But Arts and Precepts availe nothing , except nature be beneficiall , and ayding . And therefore these things are no more written to a dull disposition , then rules of husbandry to a barren Soyle . No precepts will profit a Foole ; no more then beauty will the blind , or musicke the deafe . As wee should take care , that our style in writing , be neither dry , nor empty : wee should looke againe it be not winding , or wanton with far-fetcht-descriptions ; Either is a vice . But that is worse which proceeds out of want , then that which riots out of plenty . The remedy of fruitfulnesse is easie , but no labour will helpe the contrary ; I will like , and praise some things in a young Writer ; which yet if hee continue in , I cannot , but justly hate him for the same . There is a time to bee given all things for maturity ; and that even your Countrey-husband-man can teach ; who to a young plant will not put the proyning knife , because it seemes to feare the iron , as not able to admit the scarre . No more would I tell a greene Writer all his faults , lest I should make him grieve and faint , and at last despaire . For nothing doth more hurt , then to make him so afraid of all things , as hee can endeavour nothing . Therefore youth ought to be instructed betimes , and in the best things : for we hold those longest , wee take soonest . As the first sent of a Vessell lasts : and that tinct the wooll first receives . Therefore a Master should temper his owne powers , and descend to the others infirmity . If you powre a glut of water upon a Bottle , it receives little of it ; but with a Funnell , and by degrees , you shall fill many of them , and spill little of your owne ; to their capacity they will all receive , and be full . And as it is fit to rende the best Authors to youth first , so let them be of the openest , and clearest . Livy . Salust . Sydney . Donne . Gower . Chaucer . As Livy before Salust , Sydney before Donne : and beware of letting them taste Gower , or Chaucer at first , lest falling too much in love with Antiquity , and not apprehending the weight , they grow rough and barren in language onely . When their judgements are firme , and out of danger , let them reade both , the old and the new : but no lesse take heed , that their new flowers , and sweetnesse doe not as much corrupt , as the others drinesse , Spencer . and squallor , if they choose not carefully . Spencer , in affecting the Ancients writ no Language : Yet I would have him read for his matter ; but as Virgil read Eunius . Virgil. Ennius . Homer . Virgil. Quintilian . The reading of Homer and Virgil is counsell'd by Quintilian , as the best way of informing youth , and confirming man . For besides that , the mind is rais'd with the height , and sublimity of such a verse , it takes spirit from the greatnesse of the matter , and is tincted with the best things . Tragicke , and Liricke Poetry is good too : and Comicke with the best , if the manners of the Reader be once in safety . In the Greeke Poets , Plautus . Terence . as also in Plautus , wee shall see the Oeconomy , and disposition of Poems , better observed then in Terence , and the later : who thought the sole grace , and vertue of their Fable , the sticking in of sentences , as ours doe the forcing in of jests .

Wee should not protect our sloath with the patronage of difficulty . Ials . querel . fugien● . It is a false quarrell against nature , that shee helpes understanding ; but in a few , when the most part of mankind are inclin'd by her thither , if they would take the paines ; no lesse then birds to fly , horses to run , &c. Which if they lose , it is through their owne sluggishnesse , and by that meanes become her prodigies , not her children I confesse , nature in children is more patient of labour in study , then in Age ; for the sense of the paine , the judgement of the labour is absent , they doe not measure what they have done . And it is the thought , and consideration , Platonis . Peregrinatio in Italiam . that affects us more , then the wearinesse it selfe . Plato was not content with the Learning , that Athens could give him , but sail'd into Italy for Pythagora's knowledge : And yet not thinking himselfe sufficiently inform'd , went into Egypt to the Priests , and learned their mysteries . Hee labour'd , so must wee . Many things may be learn'd together , and perform'd in one point of time ; as Musicians exercise their memory , their voice , their fingers , and sometime their head , and feet at once . And so a Preacher in the invention of matter , election of words , composition of gesture , looke , pronunciation , motion , useth all these faculties at once . And if wee can expresse this variety together , why should not diverse studies , at diverse houres delight , when the variety is able alone to refresh , and repaire us ? As when a man is weary of writing , to reade ; and then againe of reading , to write . Wherein , howsoever wee doe many things , yet are wee ( in a sort ) still fresh to what wee begin : wee are recreated with change , as the stomacke is with meats . But some will say , this variety breeds confusion , and makes , that either wee loose all , or hold no more then the last . Why doe wee not then perswade husbandmen , that they should not till Land , helpe it with Marle , Lyme , and Compost ? plant Hop-gardens , prune trees , looke to Bee-hives , reare sheepe , and all other Cattell at once ? It is easier to doe many things , and continue , then to doe one thing long . Praecept . Element .

It is not the passing through these Learnings that hurts us , but the dwelling and sticking about them . To descend to those extreame anxieties , and foolish cavils of Grammarians , is able to breake a wit in pieces ; being a worke of manifold misery , and vainenesse , to bee Elementarij senes . Yet even Letters are as it were the Banke of words , and restore themselves to an Author , as the pawnes of Language : But talking and Eloquence are not the same : to speake , and to speake well , are two things . A foole may talke , but a wise man speakes , and out of the observation , knowledge , and use of things . Many Writers perplexe their Readers , and Hearers with meere Non-sense . Their writings need sun-shine . Pure and neat Language I love , yet plaine and customary . A barbarous Phrase hath often made mee out of love with a good sense ; and doubtfull writing hath wrackt mee beyond my patience . The reason why a Poet is said , that hee ought to have all knowledges , is that hee should not be ignorant of the most , especially of those hee will handle . And indeed when the attaining of them is possible , it were a sluggish , and base thing to despaire . For frequent imitation of any thing , becomes a habit quickly . If a man should prosecute as much , as could be said of every thing ; his worke would find no end .

De orationis . dignitate . Speech is the only benefit , man hath to expresse his excellencie of mind above other creatures . It is the Instrument of Society . Therefore Mercury , who is the President of Language , is called Deorum hominumque interpres . In all speech , words and sense , are as the body , and the soule . The sense is , as the life and soule of Language , without which all words are dead . Sense is wrought out of experience , the knowledge of humane life , and actions , or of the liberall Arts , which the Greeks call'd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 . Iulius Caesar . Of words see Hor. de Art. Poetie . Quintil. l. 8. Ludov. Vives , pag. 6. & 7. Metaphora . Words are the Peoples ; yet there is a choise of them to be made . For Verborum delectus , origo est eloquentiae . They are to be chose according to the persons wee make speake , or the things wee speake of . Some are of the Campe , some of the Councell-board , some of the Shop , some of the Sheepe-coat , some of the Pulpit , some of the Barre , &c. And herein is seene their Elegance , and Propriety , when wee use them fitly , and draw them forth to their just strength and nature , by way of Translation , or Metaphore . But in this Translation wee must only serve necessity ( Nam temerè nihil transfertur à prudenti ) or commodity , which is a kind of necessity ; that is , when wee either absolutely want a word to expresse by , and that is necessity ; or when wee have not so fit a word , and that is commodity . As when wee avoid losse by it , and escape obscenenesse , and gaine in the grace and property , which helpes significance . Metaphors farfet hinder to be understood , and affected , lose their grace . Or when the person fetcheth his translations from a wrong place . As if a Privie-Counsellor should at the Table take his Metaphore from a Dicing-house , or Ordinary , or a Vintners Vault ; or a Justice of Peace draw his similitudes from the Mathematicks ; or a Divine from a Bawdy-house , or Tavernes ; or a Gentleman of Northampton-shire , Warwick-shire , or the Mid-land , should fetch all his Illustrations to his countrey neighbours from shipping , and tell them of the maine sheat , and the Boulin . Metaphors are thus many times deform'd , as in him that said , Castratam morte Aphricani Rempublicam . And an othet , stercus curiae Glanciam . And Canâ nive conspuit Alpes . All attempts that are new in this kind , are dangerous , and somewhat hard , before they be softned with use . A man coynes not a new word without some perill , and lesse fruit ; for if it happen to be received , the praise is but moderate ; if refus'd , the scorne is assur'd . Yet wee must adventure , for things at first , hard and rough , are by use made tender and gentle . It is an honest errour that is committed , following great Chiefes .

Consuetudo . Custome is the most certaine Mistresse of Language , as the publicke stampe makes the current money . But wee must not be too frequent with the mint , every day coyning . Nor fetch words from the extreme and utmost ages ; Perspicuitas Venustas . since the chiefe vertue of a style is perspicuitie , and nothing so vitious in it , as to need an Interpreter . Words borrow'd of Antiquity , doe lend a kind of Majesty to style , Authoritat . and are not without their delight sometimes . For they have the Authority of yeares , and out of their intermission doe win to themselves a kind of grace-like newnesse . But the eldest of the present , and newnesse of the past Language is the best . For what was the ancient Language , which some men so doate upon , but the ancient Custome ? Yet when I name Custome , I understand not the vulgar Custome : For that were a precept no lesse dangerous to Language , then life , if wee should speake or live after the manners of the vulgar : But that I call Custome of speech , which is the consent of the Learned ; as Custome of life , which is the consent of the good . Virgill was most loving of Antiquity ; Virgil. Lucretius . Chaucerisme . yet how rarely doth hee insert aquai , and pictai ! Lucretius is scabrous and rough in these ; hee seekes 'hem : As some doe Chaucerismes with us , which were better expung'd and banish'd . Some words are to be cull'd out for ornament and colour , as wee gather flowers to straw houses , or make Garlands ; but they are better when they grow to our style ; as in a Meadow , where though the meere grasse and greennesse delights ; yet the variety of flowers doth heighten and beautifie . Marry we must not play , or riot too much with them , as in Paranomasies : Nor use too swelling , Paranomasia . or ill-sounding words ; Quae per salebras , altaque saxa cadunt . It is true , there is no sound but shall find some Lovers , as the bitter'st confections are gratefull to some palats . Our composition must bee more accurate in the beginning and end , then in the midst ; and in the end more , then in the beginning ; for through the midst the streame beares us . And this is attain'd by Custome more then care , or diligence . Wee must expresse readily , and fully , not profusely . There is difference betweene a liberall , and a prodigall hand . As it is a great point of Art , when our matter requires it , to enlarge , and veere out all sayle ; so to take it in , and contract it , is of no lesse praise when the Argument doth aske it . Either of them hath their fitnesse in the place . A good man alwayes profits by his endeavour , by his helpe ; yea , when he is absent ; nay when he is dead by his example and memory . So good Authors in their style : De stylo . A strict and succinct style is that , where you can take away nothing without losse , and that losse to be manifest . The briefe style is that which expresseth much in little . Tacitus . The Laconicke . Suetonius . Seneca & Fabianus . The concise style , which expresseth not enough , but leaves somewhat to bee understood . The abrupt style , which hath many breaches , and doth not seeme to end , but fall . The congruent , and harmonious fitting of parts in a sentence , hath almost the fastning , and force of knitting , and connexion : As in stones well squar'd , which will rise strong a great way without mortar . Periods are beautifull ; Periodi . when they are not too long ; for so they have their strength too , as in a Pike or Javelin . As wee must take the care that our words and sense bee cleare ; so if the obscurity happen through the Hearers , or Readers want of understanding , I am not to answer for them ; no more then for their not listning or marking ; I must neither find them eares , nor mind . But a man cannot put a word so in sense , but some thing about it will illustrate it , if the Writer understand himselfe . For Order helpes much to Perspicuity , as Confusion hurts . Rectitudo lucem adfert ; obliquitas et circumductio offuscat . We should therefore speake what wee can , the neerest way , so as wee keepe our gate , not leape ; for too short may as well be not let into the memory , as too long not kept in . Whatsoever looseth the grace . and clearenesse , converts into a Riddle ; Obscuritas effundit tenebras . the obscurity is mark'd , but not the valew . That perisheth , and is past by , like the Pearle in the Fable . Our style should be like a skeine of silke to be carried , and found by the right thred , not ravel'd , and perplex'd ; Superlatio . then all is a knot , a heape . There are words , that doe as much raise a style , as others can depresse it . Superlation , and over-muchnesse amplifies . It may be above faith , but never above a meane . It was ridiculous in Cestius , Cestius . when hee said of Alexander :

Fremit Oceanus , quasi indignetur , quòd terras relinquas ;

Virgil. But propitiously from Virgil : — Crea●●innate reuulsas Cycladas . Hee doth not say it was so , but seem too be so . Although it be somewhat incredible , that is excus'd before it be spoken . But there are Hyperboles , which will become one Language , that will by no meanes admit another . Caesar comment : circa fin . Quintilian . As Eos esse P. R. exercitus , qui coelum possint perrumpere : who would say this with us , but a mad man ? Therefore wee must consider in every tongue what is us'd , what receiv'd . Quintilian warnes us , that in no kind of Translation , or Metaphore , or Allegory , wee make a turne from what wee began ; As if wee fetch the originall of our Metaphore from sea , and billowes ; wee end not in flames and ashes ; It is a most fowle inconsequence . Neither must wee draw out our Allegory too long , lest either wee make our selves obscure , or fall into affectation , which is childish . But why doe men depart at all from the right , and naturall wayes of speaking ? Sometimes for necessity , when wee are driven , or thinke it fitter to speake that in obscure words , or by circumstance , which utter'd plainely would offend the hearers . Or to avoid obscenenesse , or sometimes for pleasure , and variety ; as Travailers turne out of the high way , drawne , either by the commodity of a foot-path , or the delicacy , or freshnesse of the fields . And all this is call'd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , or figur'd Language .

Oratio imago animi . Language most shewes a man : speake that I may see thee . It springs out of the most retired , and inmost parts of us , and is the Image of the Parent of it , the mind . No glasse renders a mans forme , or likenesse , so true as his speech . Nay , it is likened to a man ; and as we consider feature , Structura , & statura . Sublimis Humilis pumila . and composition in a man ; so words in Language : in the greatnesse , aptnesse , sound , structure , and harmony of it . Some men are tall , and bigge , so some Language is high and great . Then the words are chosen , their sound ample , the composition full , the absolution plenteous , and powr'd out , all grave , sinne wye and strong . Some are little , and Dwarfes : so of speech it is humble , and low , the words poore and flat ; Mediocris Plana & placida . Vit iosa oratio , vasta . Tumens . Enormis . Affectata . Abjecta . the members and Periods , thinne and weake without knitting , or number . The middle are of a just stature . There the Language is plaine , and pleasing : even without stopping , round without swelling ; all well-torn'd , compos'd , elegant , and accurate . The vitious Language is vast , and gaping , swelling , and irregular ; when it contends to be high , full of Rocke , Mountaine , and pointednesse : As it affects to be low , it is abject , and creeps , full of bogs , and holes . And according to their Subject , these stiles vary , and lose their names : For that which is high and lofty , declaring excellent matter , becomes vast and tumorous : Speaking of petty and inferiour things : so that which was even , and apt in a meane and plaine subject , will appeare most poore and humble in a high Argument . Would you not laugh , to meet a great Counsellor of state in a flat cap , with his trunck hose , and a hobby-horse Cloake , his Gloves under his girdle , and yond Haberdasher in a velvet Gowne , furr'd with fables ? There is a certaine latitude in these things , by which wee find the degrees . The next thing to the stature , is the figure and feature in Language : that is , whether it be round , and streight , Figura . which consists of short and succinct Periods , numerous , and polish'd , or square and firme ; which is to have equall and strong patts , every where answerable , and weighed . Cutis five Cortex . Compositio . The third is the skinne , and coat , which rests in the well-joyning , cementing , and coagmentation of wor●● ; when as it is smooth , gentle , and sweet ; like a Table , upon which you may runne your finger without rubs , and your nayle cannot find a joynt ; not horrid , rough , wrinckled , gaping , or chapt : After these the flesh , blood , and bones come in question . Wee say it is a fleshy style , when there is much Periphrases , Carnosa . Adipata . and circuit of words ; and when with more then enough , it growes fat and corpulent ; Arvina orationis , full of suet and tallow . It hath blood , and juyce , when the words are proper and apt , their sound sweet , and the Phrase neat and pick'd . Oratio uncta , & bene pasta . But where there is Redundancy , both the blood and juyce are faulty , and vitious . Redundans . Redundat sanguine , quâ multò plus dicit , quàm necesse est . Juyce in Language is somewhat lesse then blood ; for if the words be but becomming , and signifying , and the sense gentle , there is Juyce : but where that wanteth , the Language is thinne , flagging , poore , starv'd ; scarce covering the bone , Iejuna macilenta , strigosa . and shewes like stones in a sack . Some men to avoid Redundancy , runne into that ; and while they strive to have no ill blood , or Juyce , they loose their good . There be some styles againe , that have not lesse blood , Ossia , & nervosa . but lesse flesh , and corpulence . These are bony , and sinnewy : Ossa habent , et nervos .

It was well noted by the late L. St. Alban , Notae Domini St. Albani de doctrin ; intemper . Dictator . Aristoreles . that the study of words is the first distemper of Learning : Vaine matter the second : And a third distemper is deceit , or the likenesse of truth . Imposture held up by credulity . All these are the Cobwebs of Learning , and to let them grow in us , is either sluttish or foolish . Nothing is more ridiculous , then to make an Author a Dictator , as the schooles have done Aristotle . The dammage is infinite , knowledge receives by it . For to many things a man should owe but a temporary beliefe , and a suspension of his owne Judgement , not an absolute resignation of himselfe , or a perpetuall captivity . Let Aristotle , and others have their dues ; but if wee can make farther Discoveries of truth and fitnesse then they , why are we envied ? Let us beware , while wee strive to adde , wee doe not diminish , or deface ; wee may improve , but not augment , By discrediting falshood , Truth growes in request . Wee must not goe about like men anguish'd , and perplex'd , for vitious affectation of praise : but calmely study the separation of opinions , find the errours have intervened , awake Antiquity , call former times into question ; but make no parties with the present , nor follow any fierce undertakers , mingle no matter of doubtfull credit , with the simplicity of truth , but gently stirre the mould about the root of the Question , and avoid all digladiations , facility of credit , or superstitious simplicity ; seeke the consonancy , and concatenation of Truth ; stoope only to point of necessity ; and what leads to convenience . Then make exact animadversion where style hath degenerated , where flourish'd , and thriv'd in choisenesse of Phrase , round and cleane composition of sentence , sweet falling of the clause , varying an illustration by tropes and figures , weight of Matter , worth of Subject , soundnesse of Argument , life of Invention , and depth of Judgement . This is Monte potiri , to get the hill . For no perfect Discovery can bee made upon a flat or a levell .

De optimo scriptore . Now , that I have informed you in the knowing these things ; let mee leade you by the hand a little farther , in the direction of the use ; and make you an able Writer by practice . The conceits of the mind are Pictures of things , and the tongue is the Interpreter of those Pictures . The order of Gods creatures in themselves , is not only admirable , and glorious , but eloquent ; Then he who could apprehend the consequence of things in their truth , and utter his apprehensions as truly , were the best Writer , or Speaker . Therefore Cicero said much , when hee said , Dicere rectè nemo potest , Cicero . nisi qui prudenter intelligit . The shame of speaking unskilfully were small , if the tongue onely thereby were disgrac'd : But as the Image of a King , in his Scale ill-represented , is not so much a blemish to the waxe , or the Signet that seal'd it , as to the Prince it representeth ; so disordered speech is not so much injury to the lips that give it forth , as to the disproportion , and incoherence of things in themselves , so negligently expressed . Neither can his mind be thought to be in tune , whose words doe jarre ; nor his reason in frame , whose sentence is preposterous ; nor his Elocution cleare and perfect , whose utterance breakes it selfe into fragments and uncertainties : Were it not a dishonour to a mighty Prince , to have the Majesty of his embassage spoyled by a carelesse Ambassadour ? and is it not as great an Indignity , that an excellent conceit and capacity , by the indiligence of an idle tongue should be disgrac'd ? Negligent speech doth not onely discredit the person of the Speaker , but it discrediteth the opinion of his reason and judgement ; it discrediteth the force and uniformity of the matter , and substance . If it be so then in words , which fly and escape censure , and where one good Phrase begs pardon for many incongruities , and faults ; how shall he then be thought wise , whose penning is thin and shallow ? How shall you looke for wit from him , whose leasure and head , assisted with the examination of his eyes , yeeld you no life , or sharpenesse in his writing .

De stylo Epistolari . Inventio . In writing there is to be regarded the Invention , and the Fashion . For the Invention , that ariseth upon your busines ; whereof there can bee no rules of more certainty , or precepts of better direction given , then conjecture can lay downe , from the severall occasions of mens particular lives , and vocations : But sometimes men make basenesse of kindnesse : As ( I could not satisfie my selfe , till I had discharged my remembrance , and charged my Letters with commendations to you . ) Or , [ My busines is no other , then to testifie my love to you , and to put you in mind of my willingnesse to doe you all kind offices . ] Or , [ Sir , have you leasure to descend to the remembring of that assurance you have long possest in your servant ; and upon your next opportunity , make him happy with some commands from you ? ] Or , the like ; that goe a begging for some meaning , and labour to be deliver'd of the great burthen of nothing . When you have invented , and that your busines bee matter , and not bare forme , or meere Ceremony , but some earnest : then are you to proceed to the ordering of it , and digesting the parts , which is had out of two circumstances . One is the understanding of the Persons , to whom you are to write ; the other is the coherence of your Sentence . For mens capacity to weigh , what will be apprehended with greatest attention , or leisure ; what next regarded , and long'd for especially ; and what last will leave satisfaction , and ( as it were ) the sweetest memoriall , and beliefe of all that is past in his understanding , whom you write to . For the consequence of Sentences , you must bee sure , that every clause doe give the Q. one to the other , and be bespoken ere it come . So much for Invention and order . Now for fashion it consists in foure things , which are Qualities of your style . The first is Brevity . For they must not be Treatises , or Discourses ( your Letters ) except it be to learned men . And even among them , there is a kind of thrift , and saving of words . Therefore you are to examine the clearest passages of your understanding , and through them to convey the sweetest , and most significant words you can devise ; that you may the easier teach them the readiest way to an other mans apprehension , and open their meaning fully , roundly , and distinctly . So as the Reader may not thinke a second view cast away upon your letter . And though respect bee a part following this ; yet now here , and still I must remember it , if you write to a man , whose estate and cense as senses , you are familiar with , you may the bolder ( to set a taske to his braine ) venter on a knot . But if to your Superior , you are bound to measure him in three farther points : First , your interest in him : Secondly , his capacity in your Letters : Thirdly , his leasure to peruse them . For your interest , or favour with him , you are to bee the shorter , or longer , more familiar , or submisse , as hee will afford you time . For his capacity you are to be quicker , and fuller of those reaches , and glances of wit , or learning , as hee is able to entertaine them . For his leasure , you are commanded to the greater briefnesse , as his place is of greater discharges , and cares . But with your betters , you are not to put Riddles of wit , by being too scarse of words : not to cause the trouble of making Breviates , by writing too riotous , and wastingly . Brevity is attained in matter , by avoiding idle Complements , Prefaces , Protestations , Parentheses , superfluous circuit of figures , and digressions : In the composition , by omitting Conjunctions , [ Not onely ; But Also ] Both the one , and the other , whereby it commeth to passe ] and such like idle Particles , that have no great busines in a serious Letter , but breaking of sentences ; as often timts a short journey is made long , by unnecessary baits .

But as Quintilian saith , there is a briefnesse of the parts sometimes , Quintilian . that makes the whole long , as I came to the staires , I tooke a paire of oares , they launch'd out , rowed a pace , I landed at the Court-gate , I paid my fayre , went up to the Presence , ask'd for my Lord , I was admitted . All this is , but I went to the Court , and speake with my Lord . This is the fault of some Latine Writers , within these last hundred years , of my reading , and perhaps Seneca may be appeacht of it ; 2. Perspicutas . I accuse him not . The next property of Epistolarie style is Perspicuity , and is often times by affectation of some wit ill angled for , or oftentation of some hidden termes of Art . Few words they darken speech , and so doe too many : as well too much light hurteth the eyes , as too little ; and a long Bill of Chancery confounds the understanding , as much as the shortest note . Therefore , let not your Letters be penn'd like English Statutes , and this is obtain'd . These vices are eschewed by pondering your busines well , and distinctly concerning your selfe , which is much furthered by uttering your thoughts , and letting them as well come forth to the light , and Judgement of your owne outward senses , as to the censure of other mens eares : For that is the reason , why many good Schollers speake but fumblingly ; like a rich man , that for want of particular note and difference , can bring you no certaine ware readily out of his shop . Hence it is , that talkative shallow men doe often content the Hearers , more then the wise . But this may find a speedier redresse in writing ; where all comes under the last examination of the eyes . First mind it well , then pen it , then examine it , then amend it ; and you may bee in the better hope of doing reasonably well . Vnder this vertue may come Plainenesse , which is not to be curious in the order , as to answer a letter , as if you were to answer to Intergatories . As to the first , first ; and to the second , secondly , &c. But both in method to use ( as Ladies doe in their attyre ) a diligent kind of negligence , and their sportive freedome ; though with some men you are not to jest , or practise tricks : yet the delivery of the most important things , may be carried with such a grace , as that it may yeeld a pleasure to the conceit of the Reader . There must bee store , though no excesse of termes ; as if you are to name Store , sometimes you may call it choyse , sometimes plenty ; sometimes copiousnesse , or variety : but ever so , that the word which comes in lieu , have not such difference of meaning , as that it may put the sense of the first in hazard to be mistaken . You are not to cast a Ring for the perfumed termes of the time , as Accommodation , Complement , Spirit , &c. But use them properly in their place , 3. Vigor . as others . There followeth Life , and Quicknesse , which is the strength and sinnewes ( as it were ) of your penning by pretty Sayings , Similitudes , and Conceits , Allusions , some knowne History , or other common place , such as are in the Courtier , and the second booke of Cicero de oratore . 4. Discretio The last is ; Respect to discerne , what fits your selfe ; him to whom you write ; and that which you handle , which is a quality fit to conclude the rest , because it doth include all . And that must proceed from ripenesse of judgement , which as one truly saith , is gotten by foure meanes , God , Nature , Diligence , and Conversation . Serve the first well , and the rest will serve you .

We have spoken sufficiently of Oratory ; let us now make a diversion to Poetry . De Poetica . Poetry in the Primogeniture had many peccant humours , and is made to have more now , through the Levity , and inconstancie of mens Judgements . Whereas indeed , it is the most prevailing Eloquence , and of the most exalted Charact. Now the discredits and disgraces are many it hath receiv'd , through mens study of Depravation or Calumny : their practise being to give it diminution of Credit , by lessening the Professors estimation , and making the Age afraid of their Liberty : And the Age is growne so tender of her fame , as she cals all writings Aspersions .

That is the State-word , the Phrase of Court , ( Placentia Colledge ) which some call Parasites Place , the Inne of Ignorance .

Whilst I name no persons , but deride follies ; why should any man confesse , or betray himselfe ? D. Hieronimus . why doth not that of S. Hierome come into their minde ; Vbi generalis est de vitiis disputatio , ibi nullius esse personae injuriam ? It is such an inexpiable crime in Poets , to taxe vices generally ; and no offence in them who , by their exception , confesse they have committed them particularly . Are wee fal'ne into those times that wee must not Auriculas tener as mordaci rodere vero ? Pers. Sat. 1. Livius . Remedii votum semper verius erat , quàm spes . If men may by no meanes write freely , or speake truth , but when it offends not ; why doe Physicians cure with sharpe medicines , or corrosives ? Is not the same equally lawfull in the cure of the minde , that is in the cure of the body ? Some vices , ( you will say ) are soe foule , that it is better they should bee done , then spoken . But they that take offence where no Name , Character , or Signature doth blazon them , seeme to mee like affected as woemen ; who , Sexus foemin' : if they heare any thing ill spoken of the ill of their Sexe , are presently mov'd 〈◊〉 the contumely respected their particular : and , on the contrary , when they heare good of good woemen , conclude , that it belongs to them all . If I see any thing that toucheth mee , shall I come forth a betraier of my selfe , presently ? No ; if I be wise i 'le dissemble it ; if honest , i 'le avoid it : lest I publish that on my owne forehead , which I saw there noted without a title . A man , that is on the mending hand , will either ingeniously confesse , or wisely dissemble his disease . And , the wise , and vertuous , will never thinke any thing belongs to themselves that is written , but rejoyce that the good are warn'd not to bee such ; and the ill to leave to bee such . The Person offended hath no reason to bee offended with the writer , but with himselfe ; and so to declare that properly to belong to him , which was so spoken of all men , as it could bee no mans severall but his that would willfully and desperately clayme it . It sufficeth I know , what kinde of persons I displease , men bred in the declining , and decay of vertue , betroth'd to their owne vices ; that have abandoned , or prostituted their good names ; hungry and ambitious of infamy , invested in all deformity , enthrall'd to ignorance and malice , of a hidden and conceal'd malignitie , and that hold a concomitancy with all evill .

What is a Poet ?

A Poet is that , which by the Greeks is call'd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , a Maker , or a fainer : His Art , an Art of imitation , or faining ; Poeta . expressing the life of man in fit measure , numbers , and harmony , according to Aristotle : From the word 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , which signifies to make or fayne . Hence , hee is call'd a Poet , not hee which writeth in measure only ; but that fayneth and formeth a fable , and writes things like the Truth . For , the Fable and Fiction is ( as it were ) the forme and Soule of any Poeticall worke , or Poeme .

What meane you by a Poeme ?

A Poeme is not alone any worke , or composition of the Poets in many , Poema . Virgilius . Aeneid . lib. 3. Martial . lib. 8. epig. . 19. or few verses ; but even one alone verse sometimes makes a perfect Poeme . As , when Aeneas hangs up , and consecrates the Armes of Abas , with this Inscription ; Aeneas haec de Danais victoribus arma . And calls it a Poeme , or Carmen . Such are those in Martiall .

Omnia , Castor , emis : sic fiet , ut omnia vendas . And , Pauper videri Cinna vult , & est pauper . Pauper videri Cinna vult , & est pauper .

Horatius . Lucretius . So were Horace his Odes call'd , Carmina ; his Lirik , Songs . And Lucretius designes a whole booke , in his sixt : Quod in primo quoque carmine claret . And anciently , Epicum . Dramaticum . Liricum . Elegiacum . Epigramat . Poesis . all the Oracles were call'd , Carmina ; or , what ever Sentence was express'd , were it much , or little , it was call'd , an Epick , Dramatick , Lirike , Elegiake , or Epigrammatike Poeme But , how differs a Poeme from what wee call Poesy ?

A Poeme , as I have told you is the worke of the Poet ; the end , and fruit of his labour , and studye . Poesy is his skill , or Crafte of making : the very Fiction it selfe , the reason , or forme of the worke . And these three voices differ , as the thing done , the doing , and the doer ; the thing fain'd , the faining , and the fainer : so the Poeme , the Poesy , and the Poet. Now , the Poesy is the habit , Artium Regina . or the Art : nay , rather the Queene of Arts : which had her Originall from heaven , received thence from the ‛ Ebrewes , and had in prime estimation with the Greeks , transmitted to the Latines , and all Nations , that profess'd Civility . Aristotle . The Study of it ( if wee will trust Aristotle ) offers to mankinde a certaine rule , and Patterne of living well , and happily ; disposing us to all Civill offices of Society . M.T. Cicero . If wee will beleive Tully , it nourisheth , and instructeth our Youth ; delights our Age ; adornes our prosperity ; comforts our Adversity ; entertaines us at home ; keepes us company abroad , travailes with us ; watches ; devides the times of our earnest , and sports ; shares in our Country recesses , and recreations ; insomuch as the wisest , and best learned have thought her the absolute Mistresse of manners ; and neerest of kin to Vertue . And , wheras they entitle Philosophy to bee a rigid , and austere Poesie : they have ( on the contrary ) stiled Poesy , a dulcet , and gentle Philosophy , which leades on , and guides us by the hand to Action , with a ravishing delight , and incredible Sweetnes . But , before wee handle the kindes of Poems , with their speciall differences ; Poet : differentiae . Grammatica . Logic. Rhetoric . Ethica . 1. Ingenium . or make court to the Art it selfe , as a Mistresse , I would leade you to the knowledge of our Poet , by a perfect Information , what he is , or should bee by nature , by exercise , by imitation , by Studie ; and so bring him downe through the disciplines of Grammar , Logicke , Rhetoricke , and the Ethicks , adding somewhat , out of all , peculiar to himselfe , and worthy of your Admittance , or reception .

First , wee require in our Poet , or maker , ( for that Title our Language affordes him , elegantly , with the Greeke ) a goodnes of naturall wit . For , wheras all other Arts consist of Doctrine , and Precepts : the Poet must bee able by nature , and instinct , to powre out the Treasure of his minde ; and , as Seneca saith , Seneca . Aliquando secundum Anacreontem insanire , jucundum esse : by which hee understands , the Poeticall Rapture . And according to that of Plato ; Frustrà Poetio as fores sui compos pulsavit : Plato . Aristotle . And of Aristole ; Nullum magnum ingenium sine mixturâ dementiae fuit . Nec potest grande aliquid , & supra caeteros loqui , nisi mota mens . Then it riseth higher , as by a devine Instinct , when it contemnes common , and knowne conceptions . It utters somewhat above a mortall mouth . Helicon . Pegasus . Parnassus . Ovidius . Then it gets a lost , and flies away with his Ryder , whether , before , it was doubtfull to ascend . This the Poets understood by their Helicon , Pegasus , or Parnassus ; and this made Ovid to boast : Est , Deus in nobis ; agitante calescimus illo : Sedibus aethereis spiritus ille venit . And Lipsius , Lipsius . to affirme ; Scio , Poetam neminem praestantem fuisse , sine parte quadam uberiore divinae aurae . And , hence it is , that the comming up of good Poets , ( for I minde not mediocres , or imos ) is so thinne and rare among us ; Every beggerly Corporation affoords the State a Major , or two Bailiffs , yearly : but , solus Rex , aut Poeta , non quotannis nascitur . Petron. in fragm . 2. Exercitatio . To this perfection of Nature in our Poet , wee require Exercise of those parts , and frequent . If his wit will not arrive soddainly at the dignitie of the Ancients , let him not yet fall out with it , quarrell , or be over hastily Angry : offer , to turne it away from Study , in a humor ; but come to it againe upon better cogitation ; try an other time , with labour . If then it succeed not cast not away the Quills , yet : nor scratch the Wainescott , beate not the poore Deske ; but bring all to the forge , and file , againe ; tourne it a newe . There is no Statute Law of the Kingdome bidds you bee a Poet , against your will ; or the first Quarter . If it come , in a yeare , or two , it is well . The common Rymers powre forth Verses , such as they are , ( ex tempore ) but there never come from them one Sense , worth the life of a Day . A Rymer , and a Poet , are two things . It is said of the incomparable Virgil , that he brought forth his verses like a Beare , Virgill . Scaliger . and after form'd them with licking . Scaliger , the Father , writes it of him , that he made a quantitie of verses in the morning , which a fore night hee reduced to a lesse number . But , that which Valerius Maximus hath left recorded of Euripides , Valer. Maximus . Euripides . Alcestis . the tragicke Poet , his answer to Alcestis , an other Poet , is as memorable , as modest : who , when it was told to Alcestis , that Euripides had in three daies brought forth , but three verses , and those with some difficultie , and throwes ; Alcestis , glorying hee could with ease have sent forth a hundred in the space ; Euripides roundly repl'd , like enough . But , here is the difference ; Thy verses will not last those three daies ; mine will to all time . Which was , as to tell him ; he could not write a verse . I have met many of these Rattles , that made a noyse , and buz'de . They had their humme ; and , no more . Indeed , things , wrote with labour , deserve to be so read , and will last their Age. The third requisite in our Poet , or Maker , is Imitation , to bee able to convert the substance , 3. Imitatio . or Riches of an other Poet , to his owne use . To make choise of one excellent man above the rest , and so to follow him , till he grow very Hee : or , so like him , as the Copie may be mistaken for the Principall . Not , as a Creature , that swallowes , what it takes in , crude , raw , or indigested ; but , that feedes with an Appetite , and hath a Stomacke to concoct , devide , and turne all into nourishment . Not , to imitate servilely , as Horace saith , and catch at vices , Horatius . for vertue : but , to draw forth out of the best , and choisest flowers , with the Bee , and turne all into Honey , worke it into one relish , and savour : make our Imitation sweet : observe , how the best writers have imitated , and follow them . How Virgil , and Statius have imitated Homer : how Horace , Archilochus ; how , Virgilius . Statius . Homer . Horat. Archil . Alceus . &c. 4. Lectio . Alcaeus , and the other Liricks : and so of the rest . But , that , which wee especially require in him is an exactnesse of Studie , and multiplicity of reading , which maketh a full man , not alone enabling him to know the History , or Argument of a Poeme , and to report it : but so to master the matter , and Stile , as to shew , hee knowes , how to handle , place , or dispose of either , with elegancie , when need shall bee . And not thinke , hee can leape forth suddainely a Poet , by dreaming hee hath been in Parnassus , or , Parnassus . Helicon . Ars coron. having washt his lipps ( as they say ) in Helicon . There goes more to his making , then so . For to Nature , Exercise , Imitation , and Studie , Art must bee added , to make all these perfect . And , though these challenge to themselves much , in the making up of our Maker , it is Art only can lead him to perfection , and leave him there in possession , as planted by her hand . It is the assertion of Tully , M.T. Cicero . If to an excellent nature , there happen an accession , or confirmation of Learning , and Discipline , there will then remaine somewhat noble , and singular . For , as Simylus saith in Stobaeus ; Simylus . Stob. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 without Art , Nature can nere bee perfect ; & , without Nature , Art can clayme no being . But , our Poet must beware , that his Studie bee not only to learne of himself ; for , hee that shall affect to doe that , confesseth his ever having a Foole to his master . Hee must read many ; but , ever the best , and choisest : those , that can teach him any thing , hee must ever account his masters , Horatius . Aristoteles . and reverence : among whom Horace , and ( hee that taught him ) Aristotle , deserv'd to bee the first in estimation . Aristotle , was the first accurate Criticke , and truest Judge ; nay , the greatest Philosopher , the world ever had : for , hee noted the vices of all knowledges , in all creatures , and out of many mens perfections in a Science , hee formed still one Art . So hee taught us two Offices together , how we ought to judge rightly of others , and what wee ought to imitate specially in our selves . But all this in vaine , without a naturall wit , and a Poeticall nature in chiefe . For , no man , so soone as hee knowes this , or reades it , shall be able to write the better ; but as he is adapted to it by Nature , he shall grow the perfecter Writer . Hee must have Civil prudence , and Eloquence , & that whole ; not taken up by snatches , or peeces , in Sentences , or remnants , when he will handle businesse , or carry Counsells , as if he came then out of the Declamors Gallerie , or Shadowe , furnish'd but out of the body of the State , Virorum schola Respub . which commonly is the Schoole of men . The Poet is the neerest Borderer upon the Orator , and expresseth all his vertues , though he be tyed more to numbers ; is his equall in ornament , and above him in his strengths . And , ( of the kind ) the Comicke comes neerest : Because , in moving the minds of men , and stirring of affections ( in which Oratory shewes , Lysippus Apelles . and especially approves her eminence ) hee chiefly excells . What figure of a Body was Lysippus , ever able to forme with his Graver ; or Apelles to paint with his Pencill , as the Comedy to life expresseth so many , and various affections of the minde ? There shall the Spectator see some , insulting with Joy ; others , fretting with Melancholy ; raging with Anger ; mad with Love ; boiling with Avarice ; undone with Riot ; tortur'd with expectation ; consum'd with feare : no perturbation in common life , but the Orator findes an example of it in the Scene . And then , for the Elegancy of Language , Naevius . read but this Inscription on the Grave of a Comicke Poet : Immortales mortales , si fas esset , flere , Flerent divae Camaenae Naevium Poetam ; Itaque postquam est Orcino traditus the sauro , L. Aelius . Stilo . Plautus . M. Varro . Obliti sunt Romae , linguâ loqui Latinâ . Or , that modester Testimonie given by Lucius Aelius . Stilo upon Plautus ; who affirmed , Musas , si latinè voluissent , Plautino sermone fuisse loquuturas . And that illustrious judgement by the most learned M. Varro of him ; who pronounced him the Prince of Letters , and Elegancie , in the Roman Language .

I am not of that opinion to conclude a Poets liberty within the narrowe limits of lawes , which either the Grammarians , or Philosophers prescribe . For , before they found out those Lawes , there were many excellent Poets , that fulfill'd them . Sophocles . Amongst whome none more perfect then Sophocles , who liv'd a little before Aristotle .

Demosthenes . Pericles Alcibiades . Which of the Greekelings durst ever give precepts to Demosthenes ? or to Pericles , ( whom the Age surnam'd heavenly ) because he seem'd to thunder , and lighten , with his Language ? or to Alcibiades , who had rather Nature for his guide , then Art for his master ?

But , whatsoever Nature at any time dictated to the most happie ; or long exercise to the most laborious , that the wisdome , and Learning of Aristotle , Aristotle . hath brought into an Art : because , he understood the Causes of things : and what other men did by chance or custome , he doth by reason ; and not only found out the way not to erre , but the short way we should take , not to erre .

Many things in Euripides hath Aristophanes wittily reprehended ; Euripides . Aristophanes . not out of Art , but out of Truth . For , Euripides is sometimes peccant , as he is most times perfect . But , Judgement when it is greatest , if reason doth not accompany it , is not ever absolute .

To judge of Poets is only the facultie of Poets ; and not of all Poets , Cens : Scal: in Lil : Germ. Senec : de brev : vit: cap. 13. & epist. 88. but the best . Nemo infaeliciùs de Poetis judicavit , quàm qui de Poetis scripsit . But , some will say , Criticks are a kind of Tinkers ; that make more faults , then they mend ordinarily . See their diseases , and those of Grammarians . It is true , many bodies are the worse for the medling with : And the multitude of Physicians hath destroyed many sound patients , with their wrong practise . But the office of a true Critick , or Censor , is , not to throw by a letter any where , or damne an innocent Syllabe , but lay the words together , and amend them ; judge sincerely of the Author , and his matter , which is the signe of solid , and perfect learning in a man . Such was Horace , an Author of much Civilitie ; Horace . and ( if any one among the heathen can be ) the best master , both of vertue , and wisdome ; an excellent , and true judge upon cause , and reason ; not because he thought so ; but because he knew so , out of use and experience . Cato , the Grammarian , a defender of Lucilius . Heins : de Sat: 265. Cato Grammaticus , Latina Syren , Qui solus legit , & facit Poetas . Quintilian of the same heresie , but rejected . Pag. 267. Pag. 270.271 . Pag. 273. & seq. Pag: in comm . 153. & seq. Horace his judgement of Choerillus , defended against Ioseph Scaliger . And , of Laberius , against Julius .

But chiefly his opinion of Plautus , vindicated against many , that are offended , and say , it is a hard Censure upon the parent of all conceipt , and sharpnesse . And , they wish it had not fallen from so great a master , and Censor in the Art : whose bondmen knew better how to judge of Plautus , then any that dare patronize the family of learning in this Age ; who could not bee ignorant of the judgement of the times , in which hee liv'd , when Poetrie , and the Latin Language were at the height : especially , being a man so conversant , and inwardly familiar with the censures of great men , that did discourse of these things daily amongst themselves . Againe , a man so gratious , and in high favour with the Emperour , as Augustus often called him his wittie Manling , ( for the littlenes of his stature ; ) and ( if wee may trust Antiquity ) had design'd him for a Secretary of Estate ; and invited him to the place , which he modestly praid off , and refus'd .

Horace did so highly esteeme Terence his Comedies , Terence . Menander . as he ascribes the Art in Comedie to him alone , among the Latines , and joynes him with Menander .

Now , let us see what may be said for either , to defend Horace his judgement to posterity ; and not wholly to condemne Plautus .

The parts of a Comedie are the same with a Tragedie , The parts of a Comedie and Tragedie . and the end is partly the same . For , they both delight , and teach ; the Comicks are call'd 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 , of the Greekes ; no lesse then the Tragicks .

Nor , is the moving of laughter alwaies the end of Comedy , that is rather a fowling for the peoples delight , or their fooling . For , Aristotle . as Aristotle saies rightly , the moving of laughter is a fault in Comedie , a kind of turpitude , that depraves some part of a mans nature without a disease . As a wry face without paine moves laughter , or a deformed vizard , or a rude Clowne , drest in a Ladies habit , and using her actions , wee dislike , and scorne such representations ; which made the ancient Philosophers ever thinke laughter unfitting in a wise man . Plato . Homer . And this induc'd Plato to esteeme of Homer , as a sacrilegious Person ; because the presented the Gods sometimes laughing . As , also it is divinely said of Aristotle , that to seeme ridiculous is a part of dishonesty , and foolish .

The wit of the old Comedy . So that , what either in the words , or Sense of an Author , or in the language , or Actions of men , is a wry , or depraved , doth strangely stirre meane affections , and provoke for the most part to laughter . And therfore it was cleare that all insolent , and obscene speaches , jest upon the best men ; injuries to particular persons ; perverse , and sinister Sayings ( and the rather unexpected ) in the old Comedy did move laughter ; especially , where it did imitate any dishonesty ; and scurrility came forth in the place of wit : which who understands the nature and Genius of laughter , cannot but perfectly know .

Aristophanes . Plautus . Of which Aristophanes affords an ample harvest , having not only out , gone Plautus , or any other in that kinde ; but express'd all the moods , and figures , of what is ridiculous , oddly . In short , as Vinegar is not accounted good , untill the wine be corrupted : so jests that are true and naturall , seldome raise laughter , with the beast , the multitude . They love nothing , that is right , and proper . The farther it runs from reason , or possibility with them , the better it is .

Socrates . What could have made them laugh , like to see Socrates presented , that Example of all good life , honesty , and vertue , to have him hoisted up with a Pullie , and there play the Philosopher , in a basquet . Measure , how many foote a Flea could skip Geometrically , by a just Scale , and edifie the people from the ingine . Theatricall wit . This was Theatricall wit , right Stage-jesting , and relishing a Play-house , invented for scorne , and laughter ; whereas , if it had savour'd of equity , truth , perspicuity , and Candor , to have tasten a wise , or a learned Palate , spit it out presantly ; this is bitter and profitable , this instructs , and would informe us : what neede wee know any thing , that are nobly borne , more then a Horse-race , or a hunting-match , our day to breake with Citizens , and such innate mysteries .

The Cart. This is truly leaping from the Stage , to the Tumbrell againe , reducing all witt to the Originall Dungcart .

Of the magnitude , and compasse of any Table , Epicke , or Dramatick .

What the measure of a Fable is . The Fable , or Plott of a Poeme , defin'd . To the resolving of this Question , wee must first agree in the definition of the Fable . The Fable is call'd the Imitation of one intire , and perfect Action ; whose parts are so joyned , and knitt together , as nothing in the structure can be chang'd ; or taken away , without imparing , or troubling the whole ; of which there is a proportionable magnitude in the members . As for example ; if a man would build a house , he would first appoint a place to build it in , which he would define within certaine bounds : So in the Constitution of a Poeme , the Action is aym'd at by the Poet , which answers Place in a building ; and that Action hath his largenesse , compasse , and proportion . But , as a Court or Kings Palace requires other dimensions then a private house : The Epick fable . So the Epick askes a magnitude , from other Poëms . Since , what is Place in the one , is Action in the other , the difference is in space . So that by this definition wee conclude the fable , to be the imitation of one perfect , and intire Action ; as one perfect , and intire place is requir'd to a building . By perfect , wee understand that , to which nothing is wanting ; as Place to the building , that is rais'd , and Action to the fable , that is form'd . It is perfect , perhaps , differing not for a Court , or Kings Palace , which requires a greater ground ; but for the structure wee would raise , so the space of the Action , from the Dramaticke . What 〈◊〉 understand by Whole . may not prove large enough for the Epick Fable , yet bee perfect for the Dramatick , and whole .

Whole , wee call that , and perfect , which hath a beginning , a mid'st , and an end . So the place of any building may be whole , and intire , for that worke ; though too little for a palace . As , to a Tragedy or a Comedy , the Action may be convenient , and perfect , that would not fit an Epicke Poeme in Magnitude . So a Lion is a perfect creature in himselfe , though it bee lesse , then that of a Buffalo , or a Rhinocerote . They differ ; but in specie : either in the kinde is absolute . Both have their parts , and either the whole . Therefore , as in every body ; so in every Action , which is the subject of a just worke , there is requir'd a certaine proportionable greatnesse , neither too vast , nor too minute . For that which happens to the Eyes , when wee behold a body , the same happens to the Memorie , when wee contemplate an action . I looke upon a monstrous Giant , as Tityus , whose body cover'd nine Acres of Land , and mine eye stickes upon every part ; the whole that consists of those parts , will never be taken in at one intire view . So in a Fable , if the Action be too great wee can never comprehend the whole together in our Imagination . Againe , if it be too little , there ariseth no pleasure out of the object , it affords the view no stay : It is beheld and vanisheth at once . As if wee should looke upon an Ant or Pismyre , the parts fly the sight , and the whole considered is almost nothing . The same happens in Action , which is the object of Memory , as the body is of sight . Too vast oppresseth the Eyes , and exceeds the Memory : too little scarce admits either .

Now , What the utmost bound of a fable . in every Action it behooves the Poet to know which is his utmost bound , how farre with fitnesse , and a necessary proportion , he may produce , and determine it . That is , till either good fortune change into the worse , or the worse into the better . For as a body without proportion cannot be goodly , no more can the Action , either in Comedy , or Tragedy without his fit bounds . And every bound for the nature of the Subject , is esteem'd the best that is largest , till it can increase no more : so it behooves the Action in Tragedy , or Comedy , to be let grow , till the necessity aske a Conclusion : wherin two things are to be considered ; First , that it exceed not the compasse of one Day : Next , that there be place left for digression , and Art . For the Episodes , and digressions in a Fable , are the same that houshold stuffe , and other furniture are in a house . And so farre for the measure , and extent of a Fable Dramaticke .

Now , that it should be one , and intire . One is considerable two waies : What by one , and intire . either , as it is only separate , and by it self : or as being compos'd of many parts , it beginnes to be one , as those parts grow , or are wrought together . That it should be one the first way alone , and by it self , no man that hath tasted letters ever would say , especially having required before a just Magnitude , and equall Proportion of the parts in themselves . Neither of which can possibly bee , if the Action be single and separate , not compos'd of parts , which laid together in themselves , with an equall and fitting proportion , tend to the same end ; which thing out of Antiquitie it selfe , hath deceiv'd many ; and more this Day it doth deceive .

Hercules . Theseus . Achilles . Vlysses . So many there be of old , that have thought the Action of one man to be one : As of Hercules , Theseus , Achilles , Ulysses , and other Heroes ; which is both foolish and false ; since by one and the same person many things may be severally done , which cannot fitly be referred , or joyned to the same end : which not only the excellent Tragick-Poets , Homer , and Virgill . but the best Masters of the Epick , Homer , and Virgil saw . For though the Argument of an Epick-Poeme be farre more diffus'd , & powr'd out , then that of Tragedy ; yet Virgil writing of Aeneas hath pretermitted many things . Aeneas . He neither tells how he was borne , how brought up ; how he fought with Achilles ; how he was snatch'd out of the battaile by Venus ; Venus . but that one thing , how he came into Italie , he prosecutes in twelve bookes . The rest of his journey , his error by Sea , the Sacke of Troy , are put not as the Argument of the worke , but Episodes of the Argument . Homer : So Homer lai'd by many things of Ulysses and handled no more , then he saw tended to one and the same end .

Contrarie to which and foolishly those Poets did , whom the Philosopher taxeth ; Theseus . Hercules . Invenal . Codrus . Of whom one gather'd all the Actions of Theseus : another put all the Labours of Hercules in one worke . So did he , whom Juvenal mentions in the begining , hoarse Codrus , that recited a volume compil'd , which he call'd his Theseide , not yet finish'd , to the great trouble both of his hearers and himself : Amongst which there were many parts had no coherence , nor kindred one with other , so farre they were from being one Action , one Fable . For as a house , consisting of diverse materialls , becomes one structure , and one dwelling ; so an Action , compos'd of diverse parts , may become one Fable Epicke , Sophocles . Ajax . or Dramaticke . For example , in a Tragedy looke upon Sophocles his Ajax : Ajax depriv'd of Achilles's Armour , which he hop'd from the suffrage of the Greekes , disdaines ; and , growing impatient of the Injurie , rageth , and turnes mad . In that humour he doth many senslesse things ; and at last falls upon the Grecian flocke , Vlysses . and kills a great Ramme for Ulysses : Returning to his Sense , he growes asham'd of the scorne , and kills himself ; and is by the Chiefes of the Greekes forbidden buriall . These things agree , and hang together , not as they were done ; but as seeming to be done , which made the Action whole , intire , and absolute .

The conclusion concerning the Whole , and the Parts . For the whole , as it consisteth of parts ; so without all the parts it is not the whole ; and to make it absolute , is requir'd , not only the parts , but such parts as are true . For a part of the whole was true ; which if you take away , you either change the whole , or it is not the whole . For if it be such a part , as being present or absent , nothing concernes the whole , it cannot be call'd a part of the whole : Which are Episodes . Ajax , and Hector . Homer . and such are the Episodes , of which hereafter . For the present , here is one example ; The single Combat of Ajax with Hector , as it is at large describ'd in Homer , nothing belongs to this Ajax of Sophocles .

You admire no Poems , but such as run like a Brewers-cart upon the stones , hobling , Et , quae per salebras , altaque saxacadunt . Actius , & quidquid Pacuviusque vomunt . Martial . lib. 11. epigr. 91. Attonitusque legis terrai , frugiferai .

FINIS . * ⁎ *