NORTH-VVARD HOE.

Sùndry times Acted by the Children of Paules.

By Thomas Decker, and Iohn Webster.

Imprinted at London by G. ELD. 1607.

ACTVS PRIMVS.

Enter Luke Greene-shield with Fetherstone booted.
Feth.

ARt sure old Maybery Innes here to night,

Gree.

Tis certaine the honest knaue Chamberleine that hath bin my Informer, my baud, euer since I knew Ware assures me of it, and more being a Londoner though altogether vnacquainted, I haue requested his company at supper.

Feth.

Excellent occasion: how wee shall carry our selues in this busines is onely to be thought vpon.

Gree.

Be that my vndertaking: if I do not take a full reuenge of his wiues puritanicall [...]oynesse.

Feth.

Suppose it she should be chast,

G [...]ee.

O hang her: this art of seeming honest makes many of our young sonnes and heires in the Citty, looke so like our prentises,—Chamberlaine.

Cha.

Heare Sir.

Enter Chamberlaine.
Gree.

This honest knaue is call'd Innocence, ist not a good name for a Chamberlaine? he dwe't at Dunstable not long since, and hath brought me and the two Butchers Daughters there to interuiew twenty times & not so little I protest: how chance you left dunstable Sirra?

Cha.

Faith Sir the towne droopt euer since the peace in Ire­land, your captaines were wont to take their leaues of their Lon­don Polecats, (their wenches I meane Sir) at Dunstable: the next morning when they had broke their fast togeather the wenches brought them to [...]ckly 'ith hole, & so the one for London the other for Westchester, your onely rode now Sir is Yorke York [...] Sir.

Gree.

True, but yet it comes scant of the Prophesy; Lincolne was, London is, and Yorke shall-be.

Cha.

Yes Sir, tis fullfild, Yorke shalbe, that is, it shalbe Yorke still, surely it was the meaning of the prophet: will you haue some Cray-fish, and a Spitchcocke.

Enter Maybery with Bellamont.
Feth.

And a fat Trout.

Cham.
[Page]

You shall Sir; the Londoners you wot of:

Green.

Most kindly welcome—I beseech you hold our bould­nesse excused Sir.

Bella.

Sir it is the health of Trauailers, to inioy good company: will you wa [...]ke.

Feth.

Whether Trauaile you I beseech you.

May.

To London Sir we came from Sturbridge.

Bel.

I [...]el you Gentlemen I haue obseru'd very much with be­ing at sturbridge; it hath afforded me mirth beyond the length of fiue lattin Comedies; here should you meete a Nor-folk yeo­man ful-but; with his head able to ouer-turne you; and his pret­ty wife that followed him, ready to excuse the ignorant hard­nesse of her husbands forhead, in the goose markt number of freshmen; stuck here and there, with a graduate: like cloues with great heads in a gammon of bacon: here two gentlemen ma­king a mariage betweene their heires ouer a wool-pack; there a Ministers wife that could speake false lattine very lispingly; here two in one corner of a shop: Londoners selling their wares, & other Gentlemen courting their wiues; where they take vp petticoates you shold finde schollers & towns-mens wiues crou­ding togither while their husbands weare in another market busie amongst the Oxen; twas like a campe for in other Coūtries so many Punks do not follow an army. I could make an excellent discription of it in a Comedy: but whether are you trauailyng Gentlemen?

Feth

Faith Sir we purposed a dangerous voiage, but vpō better consideration we alterd our course.

May.

May we without offence pertake the ground of it.

Green.

Tis altogither triuial in-sooth: but to passe away the time till supper, Ile deliuer it to you, with protestation before hand, I seeke not to publish euery gētle-womans dishonor, only by the passage of my discource to haue you censure the state of our quarrel.

Bel.

Forth Sir.

Green.

Frequenting the company of many marchants wiues in the Citty, my heart by chance leapt into mine eye to affect the fairest but with al the falsest creature that euer affectiō stoopt to.

May.

Of what ranck was she I beseech you.

Feth.

Vpon your promise of secresie.

Bel.

You shall close it vp like treasure of your owne, and your selfe shall keepe the key of it,

Green.
[Page]

She was and by report still is wife to a most graue and well reputed Cittizen.

May.

And entertaind your loue.

Green.

As Meddowes do Aprill: the violence as it seemed of her affection—but alas it proued her dissembling, would at my comming and departing be-dew her eyes with loue dropps; O she could the art of woman most feelingly.

Bel.

Most feelingly.

May.

I should not haue lik'd that feelingly had she beene my wife, giue vs some sack heare and in faith— we are all friends; & in priuate— what was her husbands name▪— Ile giue you a carouse by and by.

Green.

O you shall pardon mee his name, it seemes you are a Cittizen, it would bee discourse inough for you vpon the ex­change this fort-night should I tell his name.

Bel.

Your modesty in this wiues commendation; on sir.

Green.

In the passage of our loues, (amongst other fauours of greater valew) she bestowed vpon me this [...]inge which she pro­tested was her husbands gift.

May.

The poesie, the poesie—O my heart, that ring good infaith:

Green.

Not many nights comming to her and being familiar with her.

May.

Kissing and so forth.

Green.

I Sir.

Ma.

And talking to her feelingly.

Gre.

Pox on't, I lay with her.

May.

Good infaith you are of a good complexion.

Green.

Lying with her as I say: and rising some-what early frō her in the morning, I lost this ring in her bed.

May.

In my wiues bed.

Feth.

How do you Sir.

May.

Nothing: lettes haue a fire chamberlaine; I thinke my bootes haue taken water I haue such a shudering: ith' bed you say;

Green.

Right Sir, in Mistris Maiberies sheetes.

May.

Was her name Maybery.

Green

Beshrew my tongue for blabbing, I presume vpon your secresy.

May.

O God Sir, but where did you find your loosing;

Green.

Where I found her falsnesse: with this Gentleman; who by his owne confession pertaking the like inioyment; found this ring the same morning on her pillowe, and sham'd not in my sight to weare it.

May.

What did shee talke feelingly to him too; I war­ [...]nt her husband was forth a Towne all this while, [Page] and he poore man trauaild with hard Egges in's pocket, to saue the charge of a baite, whilst she was at home with her Plouers, Turkey, Chickens; do you know that Maibery.

Feth.

No more then by name.

May.

Hee's a wondrous honest man; lets be merry; will not your mistrisse?-gentlemen, you are tenants in common I take it.

Feth Gree.

Yes.

May.

Will not your Mistresse make much of her husband when he comes home [...] as if no such legerdemaine had bin acted.

Green.

Yes she hath reason for't, for in some countries, where men and women haue good trauailing stomackes, they begin with porredge; then they fall to Capon or so-forth: but if Ca­pon come short of filling their bellies, to their porridge againe, tis their onely course, so for our women in England.

May.

This wit taking of long iourneys: kindred that comes in ore the hatch, and sailing to Westminster makes a number of Cuckolds.

Bell.

Fie what an idle quarrell is this, was this her ring?

Green.

Her ring Sir.

May.

A pretty idle toy, would you would take mony for't,

Feth. Green.

Mony sir.

May.

The more I looke on't, the more I like it.

Bell.

Troth 'tis of no great valew, and considering the losse, and finding of this ring made breach into your friendship, Gen­tlemen, with this trifle purchase his loue, I can tell you he keepes a good Table.

Green.

What my Mistris gift?

Feth.

Faith you are a merry old Gentleman; Ile giue you my part in't.

Green.

Troth and mine, with your promise to conceale it from her husband.

May.

Doth he know of it yet?

Green.

No Sir.

May.

He shall neuer then I protest [...] looke you this ring doth fitte me passing well.

Feth.

I am glad we haue fitted you.

May.

This walking is wholesome, I was a cold euen now, now I sweat for't.

Feth.
[Page]

Shalls walke into the Garden Luke. Gentlemen weele downe and hasten supper.

May.

Looke you, we must be better acquainted that's all.

Exeunt Green. and Feth.
Green.

Most willingly; Excellent, hee's heat to the proofe, lets with-draw, and giue him leaue to raue a little.

May.

Chamberlaine, giue vs a cleane Towell.

Enter Chamberlaine.
Bell.

How now man?

May.

I am foolish old Maybery, and yet I can be wise May­bery too; Ile to London presently, begon Sir.

Bell.

How, how?

May.

Nay, nay, Gods pretious you doe mistake mee Maister Bellamont; I am not distempered, for to know a mans wife is a whore, is to be resolu'd of it, and to be resolued of it, is to make no question of it, and when a case is out of question; what was I saying?

Bell.

Why looke you, what a distraction are you falne into?

May.

If a man be deuorst, doe you see, deuorst forma Iuris, whether may he haue an action or no, gainst those that make hornes at him?

Bell.

O madnesse! that the frailty of a woman should make a wise man thus idle! yet I protest to my vnderstanding, this report seemes as farre from truth, as you from patience.

May.

Then am I a foole, yet I can bee wise and I list too: what sayes my wedding ring?

Bell.

Indeed that breeds some suspition: for the rest most grose and open, for two men, both to loue your wife, both to in­ioy her bed, and to meete you as if by miracle, and not know­ing you, vpon no occasion in the world, to thrust vpon you a discourse of a quarrell, with circumstance so dishonest, that not any Gentleman but of the countrie blushing, would haue pub­lisht. I and to name you: doe you know them?

May.

Faith now I remember, I haue seene them walke muf­ [...]ed by my shop.

Bell.

Like enough; pray God they doe not borrow mony of [...] twixt Ware and London: come striue to blow ouer these [...]lowdes.

May.
[Page]

Not a clowd, you shall haue cleane Moone-shine, they haue good smooth lookes the fellowes.

Bell.

As Iet, they will take vp I warrant you, where they may bee trusted; will you be merry?

May.

Wonderous merry; lets haue some Sack to drowne this Cuckold, downe with him: wonderous merry: one word & no more; I am but a foolish tradesman, and yet Ile be a wise tradesman.

Exeunt.
Enter D [...]ll lead betweene Leuer-poole, and Chartley, after them Philip arrested.
Phil.

Arrest me? at whose sute? Tom Chartley, Dick Leuer-poole, stay, Ime arrested.

Omn.

Arrested?

1. Ser.

Gentlemen breake not the head of the peace; its to no purpose, for hee's in the lawes clutches, you see hee's fangd.

Doll.

Vds life, doe you stand with your naked weapons in your hand, and doe nothing with em? put one of em into my fingers, Ile tickle the pimple-nosed varlets.

Phil.

Hold Doll, thrust not a weapon vpon a mad woman, Officers step back into the Tauerne, you might ha tane mee ith streete, and not ith' Tauerne entrie, you Cannibals.

Ser.

Wee did it for your credit Sir.

Chart.

How much is the debt? Drawer, some wine.

Enter Drawer.
1. Ser.

Foure score pound: can you send for Baile Sir? or what will you doe? wee cannot stay.

Doll.

You cannot, you pasty-footed Rascalls, you will stay one day in hell.

Phil.

Foure score pounds drawes deepe; farewell Doll, come Serieants, Ile step to mine Vncle not farre off, here-by in Pud­ding lane, and he shall baile mee: if not, Chartly you shall finde me playing at Span-counter, and so farewell. Send mee some Tobacco.

1. Ser.

Haue an eye to his hands.

2. Ser.

Haue an eye to his legges.

Exeunt.
Doll.

Ime as melancholy now?

Chart.

Villanous spitefull luck, Ile hold my life some of these sawsie Drawers betrayd him.

Draw.

Wee sir! no by Gad Sir, wee scorne to haue a Iudas in our company.

Leuer.
[Page]

No, no, hee was dogd in, this is the end of all dyeing.

Doll.

This is the end of all whores, to fall into the hands of knaues. Drawer, tye my shoe pry thee: the new knot as thou seest this: Philip is a good honest Gentleman, I loue him be­cause heele spend, but when I saw him on his Fathers Hobby, and a brace of Punkes following him in a coach, I told him hee would run out, hast done boy?

Draw.

Yes forsooth: by my troth you haue a dainty legge.

Doll.

How now good-man rogue.

Draw.

Nay sweete Mistresse Doll.

Doll.

Doll! you reprobate! out you Bawd for seauen yeares by the custome of the Citty.

Draw.

Good Mistris Dorothy; the pox take mee, if I toucht your legge but to a good intent.

Doll.

Prate you: the rotten toothd rascall, will for sixe pence fetch any whore to his maisters customers: and is euery one that swims in a Taffatie gowne Lettis for your lippes? vds life, this is rare, that Gentlewomen and Drawers, must suck at one Spiggot: Doe you laugh you vnseasonable puck-fist? doe you grin?

Chart.

Away Drawer: hold pry thee good rogue, holde my sweete Doll, a pox a this swaggering.

Doll.

Pox a your gutts, your kidneys; mew: hang yee, rooke: I'me as melancholy now as Fleet-streete in a long vacation.

Leuer.

Melancholy? come weele ha some muld Sack.

Doll.

When begins the te [...]me?

Chart.

Why? hast any suites to be tryed at Westminster?

Doll.

My Sutes you base ruffian haue beene tryed at West­minster already: so soone as euer the terme begins, Ile change my lodging, it stands out a the way; Ile lye about Charing­crosse, for if there be any stirrings, there we shall haue 'em: or if some Dutch-man would come from the States! oh! these Flemmings pay soundly for what they take.

Leuer.

If thou't haue a lodging West-ward Doll, Ile fitte thee.

Doll.

At Tyburne will you not? a lodging of your proui­ding? to bee cal [...]d a Lieutenants, or a Captaines wench! oh! I scorne to bee one of your Low-country commodities, I; is this body made to bee mainteined with Prouant and dead [Page] pay? no: the Mercer must bee paide, and Sattin gown [...] [...] bee tane vp.

Chart.

And gallon pots must be tumbled downe.

Doll.

Stay: I haue had a plot a breeding in my braines— Are all the Q [...]est-houses broken vp?

Leuer.

Yes, long since: what then?

Doll.

What then? mary then is the wind come about, and for those poore wenches that before Christmasse fled West-ward with bag and baggage, come now sailing alongst the lee shore with a No [...]therly winde▪ and we that had warrants to lie with­out the liberties, come now dropping into the freedome by Owle-light sneakingly.

Chart.

B [...]t Doll, whats the plot thou spakst off?

Doll.

Mary this: Gentlemen, and Tobacco-stinckers, and such like are still buzzing where sweete meates are (like Flyes) but they make any flesh stinke that they blow vpon: I will leaue those fellowes therefore in the hands of their Landresses: Sil­uer is the Kings stampe, man Gods stampe, and a woman is mans stampe, wee are not cu [...]rant till wee passe from one man to an­other.

Both:

Very good.

Doll

I will therefore take a faire house in the Citty: no mat­ter tho it be a Tauerne that has blowne vp his Maister: it shall be in trade s [...]ill, for I know diuerse Tauernes ith Towne, that haue but a Wall betweene them and a hotte-house. It shall then bee giuen out, that I'me a Gentlewoman of such a birth, such a wealth, haue had such a breeding, and so foorth, and of such a carriage, and such quallities, and so forth: to set it off the better, old Iack Hornet shall take vppon him to bee my Father.

Leuer.

Excellent, with a chaine about his neck and so forth.

Doll.

For that, Saint Martins and wee will talke: I know vve shall haue Gudgions bite presently: if they doe boyes, you shall liue like Knights fe [...]lowes; as occasion serues, you shall vveare liueries and vvaite, but vvhen Gulls are my winde-falls, you shall be Gentlemen, and keepe them company: seeke out Iack Hornet incontinently.

Leuer.

Wee will; come Charely, vveele playe our partes I warrant.

Doll.
[Page]
Doe so:—
The world's a stage, from which strange shapes we borrow:
To day we are honest, and ranke knaues to morrow.
Exeunt.
Enter Maybery, Bellamont, and a Prentice.
May.

Where is your Mistris, villaine? when went she abroad?

Prent.

Abroad Sir, why assoone as she was vp Sir.

May.

Vp Sir, downe Sir, so sir: Maister Bellamont, I will tell you a strange secret in Nature, this boy is my wiues bawd.

Bell.

O fie sir, fie, the boy he doe's not looke like a Bawde, he has no double chin.

Pren.

No sir, nor my breath does not stinke, I smell not of Garlick or Aqua-vitae: I vse not to bee drunke with Sack and Sugar: I sweare not God dam me, if I know vvhere the party is, when 'tis a lye and I doe know: I was neuer Carted (but in har­uest) neuer vvhipt but at Schoole: neuer had the Grincoms: neuer sold one Maiden-head ten seuerall times, f [...]st to an Eng­lishman, then to a Welshman, then to a Dutchman, then to a poc­k [...]e Frenchman, I hope Sir I am no Bawd then.

May.

Thou art a Baboune, and holdst me with trickes, vvhilst my Wife grafts grafts, away, trudge, run▪ search her out by land, and by water.

Pren.

Well Sir, the land Ile ferret, and after that Ile search her by water, for it may be shees gone to Brainford.

Exit.
Mayb.

Inquire at one of mine Aunts.

Bell.

One of your Aunts are you mad?

Mayb.

Yea, as many of the twelue companies are, troubled, troubled.

Bel.

Ile chide you: goe too, Ile chide you soundly.

May.

Oh maister Bellamont!

Bel.

Oh Maister Maybery! before your Seruant to daunce a Lancashire Horne-pipe: it shewes worse to mee, then dancing does to a deafe man that sees not the fiddles: Sfoot you talke like a Player.

Mayb.

If a Player talke like a mad-man, or a foole, or an Asse, and knowes not vvhat hee talkes, then Ime one: you are a Poet Maister Bellamont, I vvill bestow a piece of Plate vpon you to bring my wife vpon the Stage, wud not her humor please Gentlemen.

Bella.
[Page]

I thinke it would: yours wud make Gentlemen as fatt as fooles: I wud giue two peeces of Plate, to haue you stand by me, when I were to write a iealous mans part: Iealous men are eyther knaues or Coxcombes, bee you neither: you weare yel­low hose without cause.

May.

With-out cause, when my Mare beares double: with­out cause?

Bell.

And without wit.

May.

When two Virginall Iacks skip vp, as the key of my instrument goes downe!

Bel.

They are two wicked elders.

May.

When my wiues ring does smoake for't.

Bell.

Your wiues ring may deceiue you.

May.

O Ma [...]ster Bellamont! had it not beene my wife had made me a Cuckold, it should neuer haue greeued mee.

Bel,

You wrong her vpon my soule.

Mai.

No, she wrongs me vpon her body.

Enter a Seruingman.
Bel.

Now blew-bottle? what fl [...]tter you for Sea-pye?

Ser.

Not to catch fish Sir, my young Maister, your sonne mai­ster Philip is taken prisoner.

Bel.

By the Dunkirks.

Ser.

Worse: by Catch-polls: hee's encountred.

Bel.

Shall I neuer see that prodigall come home.

Ser.

Yes Sir, if youle fetch him out, you may kill a Calfe for him.

Bel.

For how much lyes he?

Ser.

The debt is foure score pound, marry he chargde mee to tell you it was foure [...]core and ten, so that he lies onely for the odde ten pound.

Bel.

His childs part shal now be paid, this mony shalbe his last, & this vexation the last of mine: if you had such a sonne mai­ster Maiberie.

Mai.

To such a wife, twere an excellent couple.

Bel.

Release him, and release me of much sorrow, I will buy a Sonne no more: goe redeeme him.

Enter Prentice and Maiberies wife.
Prent.

Here's the party Sir.

Mai.

Hence, and lock fast the dores, now is my prize.

Prent.

If she beate you not at your owne weapon, wud her Buckler were cleft in two peeces.

Exit.
Bel.

I will not haue you handle her too roughly.

Mai.

No, I will like a Iustice of peace, grow to the point: are not you a whore: neuer start: thou art a Cloth-worker, and hast [...]urnd me.

Wife.
[Page]

How Sir, into what Sir, haue I turn'd you?

May.

Into a Ciuill Suite: into a sober beast: a Land-rat, a Cuckold: thou art a common bedfellow, art not? art not?

Wif.

Sir this Language, to me is strange, I vnderstand it not.

May.

O! you studie the french now.

Wife.

Good Sir, lend me patience.

May.

I made a fallade of that herbe: doest see these flesh-hookes, I could teare out those false eyes, those Cats eyes, that can see in the night: punck I could.

Bel.

Heare her answer for her selfe.

VVif.
Good Maister Bellomont,
Let him not do me violence: deere Sir,
Should any but your selfe shoote out these names,
I would put off all female modesty,
To be reueng'd on him.
May.

Know'st thou this ring? there has bin old running at the ring since I went.

VVife.
Yes Sir, this ring is mine, he was a villayne,
That stole it from my hand: he was a villayne:
That put it into yours.
May.
They were no villaynes,
When they stood stoutly for me: tooke your part:
And stead of collours fought vnder my sheetes.
Wife.

I know not what you meane.

May.

They lay with the: I meane plaine dealing.

Wife.
With me! if euer I had thought vncleane,
In detestation of your nuptiall pillow:
Let Sulpher drop from Heauen, and naile my body
Dead to this earth: that slaue, that damned fury
(Whose whips are in your tongue to torture me)
Casting an eye vnlawfull on my cheeke,
Haunted your thre-shold daily, and threw forth
All tempting baytes which lust and credulous youth,
Apply to our fraile sex: but those being weake
The second seige he layd was in sweete wordes.
Mai.

And then the breach was made.

Bel.

Nay, nay, heare all.

Wife.
At last he takes me sitting at your dore,
[Page]Seizes my palme, and by the charme of othes
(Back to restore it straight) he won my hand,
To crowne his finger with that hoope of gold.
I did demand it, but he mad with rage
And with desires vnbrideled, fled and vow'd,
That ring should mee vndo: and now belike
His spells haue wrought on you. But I beseech you,
To dare him to my face, and in meane time
Deny me bed-roome▪ driue me from your board,
Disgrace me in the habit of your slaue,
Lodge me in some discomfortable vault
Where neither Sun nor Moone may touch my sight,
Till of this slander I my soule acquite.
Bel.

Guiltlesse vpon my soule.

May.
Troth so [...]hinke I.
I now draw in your bow, as I before
Suppos'd they drew in mine: my streame of ielozy,
Ebs back againe, and I that like a horse
Ran b [...]nd-fold in a Mill (all in one circle)
Yet thought I had go [...] fore-right, now spy my error:
Villaines you haue abus'd me, and I vow
Sharp vengeance on your heads: driue in your teares
I take your word ya're honest, which good men,
Very good men will scarce do to their wiues.
I will bring home these serpents and allow them,
The heate of mine owne bosome: wife I charge you
Set out your hauiours towards them in such collours,
As if you had bin their whore, Ile haue it so,
Ile candy o're my words, and sleeke my brow,
Intreate 'em that they would not point at me,
Nor mock my hornes, with this Arme Ile embrace 'em
And with this—go too.
Wife.

Oh we shall haue murder—you kill my heart.

May.
No: I will shed no bloud,
But I will be reueng'd, they that do wrong
Teach others way to right: Ile fetch my blow
Faire and a far off and as Feneers vse
Enter Philip and seruant
Tho at the foote I strike, the head Ile bruize.
Bel.
[Page]
Ile ioyne with you: lets walke: oh! heres my Sonne.
Welcome a shore Sir: from whence come you pray.
Pil.

From the house of praier and fasting—the Counter.

Bel.

Art not, thou asham'd to bee seene come out of a pri­son.

Pil.

No Gods my Iudge, but I was asham'd to goe into prison.

Bel.

I am told sir, that you spend your credit and your coine vpon a light woman.

Phil.

I ha seene light gold sir, passe away amongst Mer­cers.

Bel.

And that you haue layd thirty or fortie pounds vpon her back in taffaty gownes, and silke petticoates.

Phil.

None but Taylors will say so, I nere lay'd any thing vpon her backe: I confesse I tooke vp a petticoate and a raiz'd fore-part for her, but who has to do with that?

May.

Mary that has euery body Maister Philip.

Bel.

Leaue her company, or leaue me, for shee's a woman of an ill name.

Phil.

Her name is Dorothy sir, I hope thats no il name.

Bel.

What is she? what wilt thou do with her?

Phil.

Sbloud sir what does he with her?

Bel.

Doest meane to marry her? of what birth is shee? what are her commings in, what does she liue vpon?

Phillip.

Rents sir, Rents, shee liues vpon her Rents, and I can haue her.

Bel.

You can.

Phil.

Nay father, if destiny dogge mee I must haue her: you haue often tould mee the nine Muses are all women, and you deale with them, may not I the better bee allowed one than you so many? looke you Sir, the Northerne man loues white-meates, the Southery man Sallades, the Essex man a Calfe, the Kentishman a Wag-taile, the Lancashire man an Egg-pie, the Welshman Leekes and Cheese, and your Londoners rawe Mutton, so Father god-boy, I was borne in London.

Bella.

Stay, looke you Sir, as hee that liues vpon Sal­lades without Mutton, feedes like an Oxe, (for hee eates [Page] grasse you knowe) yet rizes as hungry as an Asse, and as hee that makes a dinner of leekes will haue leane cheekes, so, thou foolish Londoner, if nothing but raw mutton can diet thee, looke to liue like a foole and a slaue, and to die like a begger and a knaue, come Maister Maiberie, farewell boy.

Phil.

Farewell father Snot — Sir if I haue her, Ile spend more in mustard & vineger in a yeare, then both you in beefe.

Both.

More saucy knaue thou.

Exeunt.

Actus 2. Scena. 1.

Enter Hornet, Doll, Leuerpoole and Chartly like seruingmen.
Horn.

AM I like a fidlers base violl (new set vp,) in a good case boies? ist neate, is it terse! am I hansome? ha▪

Omn.

Admirable, excellent.

Dol.

An vnder sheriffe cannot couer a knaue more cunningly.

Leuer.

Sfoot if he should come before a Church-warden, he wud make him peu-fellow with a Lords steward at least.

Horn.

If I had but a staffe in my hand, fooles wud thinke I were one of Simon and Iudes gentlemen vshers, and that my ap­parell were hir'd: they say three Taylors go to the making vp of a man, but Ime sure I had foure Taylors and a halfe went to the making of me thus: this Suite tho it ha bin canuast well, yet tis no law-suite, for twas dispatcht sooner than a posset on a wed­ding night.

Dol.

Why I tel thee Iack Hornet, if the Diuel and all the Bro­kers in long lane had rifled their wardrob, they wud ha beene dambd before they had fitted thee thus.

Horn.

Punck, I shall bee a simple father for you: how does my chaine show now I walke.

Dol.

If thou wert hung in chaines, thou couldst not show better.

Chart.

But how fit our blew-coates on our backes.

Dol.

As they do vpon banckrout retainers backes at Saint Georges feast in London: but at VVestminster, It makes 'em scorne the badge of their occupation: there the bragging velure-cani­ond hobbi-horses, praunce vp and downe as if some a the Ti [...]ters had ridden 'em.

Hor.

Nay Sfoot, if they be banckrouts, tis like some haue ridden [Page] 'em: and there-vpon the Cittizens Prouerbe rises, when hee sayes; he trusts to a broken staffe.

Doll.

Hornet, now you play my Father, take heed you be not out of your part, and shame your adopted Daughter.

Horn.

I will looke grauely Doll, (doe you see boyes) like the fore-man of a Iury: and speake wisely like a Lattin Schoole­maister, and be surly and dogged, and proud like the Keeper of a prison.

Leuer.

You must lie horribly, when you talke of your lands.

Horn.

No shop-keeper shall out lye mee, nay, no Fencer: when I hem boyes, you shall duck: when I cough and spit gob­bets Doll.

Doll.

The pox shall be in your lungs Hornet.

Hor.

No Doll, these with their high shoes shall tread me out.

Doll,

All the lessons that I ha prickt out for 'em, is when the Wether-cock of my body turnes towards them, to stand bare.

Horn.

And not to be sawcie as Seruing-men are.

Char.

Come, come, we are no such creatures as you take vs for.

Dol

If we [...]aue but good draughts in my peeter-boate, fresh Salmon you sweete villaines shall be no meate with vs.

Horn.

S [...]oot nothing mooues my choller, but that my chaine is Copper: but tis no matter, better men than old Iack Hornet haue rode vp Holburne, with as bad a thing about their neckes as this: your [...]ight whis [...]ler indeed hangs himselfe in Saint Martins, and not in Cheape-side.

Doll.

Peace, some-body rings: run both, whilst he has the the rope in's hand if it b [...] a prize, hale him, if a man a war, blow him vp, or hang him out at the maine yeards end.

Horn.

But what ghost, (hold vp my fine Girle) what ghosts haunts thy house?

Doll.

Oh! why diuerse: I haue a Clothiers Factor or two; a Grocer that would faine Pepper me, a Welsh Gaptaine that laies hard seege, a Dutch Marchāt, that would spend al that he's able to make ith' low countries, but to take measu [...]e of my Holland sheetes when I lye in 'em: I heare trampling: 'tis my Flemish Hoy.

Enter Leuerpoole, Chartly and Hans van Belch.
Hans.

Dar is vor you, and vor you: een, twea, drie, vier, and [Page] viue skilling, drinks Skellum vysie fréese: nempt, dats v drinck gelt.

Leuer.

Till our crownes crack agen Maister Hans van Belch.

Hans.

How ist met you, how ist bro? vr [...]lick?

Doll.

Ick vare well God danke you: Nay Ime an apt schol­ler and can take.

Hans.

Datt is good, dott is good: Ick can néet stay long: for Ick h [...]ben skip come now vpon de vater: O mine schoo­men vro, wee sall dance lanteera, teera, and sing Ick brincks to you min here, van: —wat man is dat vro.

Hor.

Nay pray sir on.

H [...]ns

Wat honds foot is dat Dorrothy.

Doll.

Tis my father.

Hans.

Gotts Sacrament! your vader! why seyghen you niet so to me! mine heart tis mine all great desire, to call you mine vader ta for Ick loue dis schonen vro your dochterkin.

Hor.

Sir you are welcome in the way of honesty.

Hans.

Ick bedanck you: Ick heb so ghe founden vader.

Harn.

Whats your name I pray.

Hans.

Mun nom bin Hans van Belch.

Horn.

Hans Van Belch!

Hans.

Yau, yau, tis so, tis so, de dronken man is alteet re­menber me.

Horn.

Doe you play the marchant, sonne Belch.

Hans.

Yau vader: Ick heb de skip swim now vpon de vater if you endouty, goe vp in de little Skip dat goe so, and bée puld vp to Wapping, Ick sal beare you on my backe, and hang you about min neck into min groet Skip.

Horn.

He Sayes Doll, he would haue thee to Wapping and hang thee.

Doll.

No Father I vnderstand him, but maister Hans, I would not be seene hanging about any mans neck, to be counted his Iewell, for any gold.

Horn.

Is your father liuing Maister Hans.

Hans.

Yau, yau, min vader heb schonen husen in Aus­burgh groet mine heare is mine vaders broder, mine vader heb land, and bin full of see, dat is beasts, cattell

Char.

He's lowzy be-like.

Hans.
[Page]

Min vader bin be grotest fooker in all Ausbrough.

Dol.

The greatest what?

Leuer.

Fooker he saies.

Dol.

Out vpon him.

Han.

Yaw yaw, fooker is en groet min here hees en el­derman vane Citty, gots sacrament, wat is de clock? Ick met stay.

A watch.
Hor.

Call his watch before you, if you can.

Doll.

Her's a pretty thing: do these wheeles spin vp the houres! what's a clock.

Han.

Acht: yaw tis acht.

Dol.

We can heare neither clock, nor Iack going, wee dwell in such a place that I feare I shall neuer finde the way to Church, because the bells hang so farre; Such a watch as this, would make me go downe with the Lamb, and be vp with the Larke.

Hans.

Seghen you so, dor it to.

Doll.

O fie: I doe but iest, for in trueth I could neuer abide a watch.

Han.

Gotts sacrament, Ick niet heb it any more.

Exeunt Leuer-poole and Chartly.
Dol.

An other peale! good father lanch out this hollander.

Horn.

Come Maister Belch, I will bring you to the water-side, perhaps to Wapping, and there ile leaue you.

Han.

Ick bedanck you vader.

Exit.
Doll.

They say Whores and bawdes go by clocks, but what a Manasses is this to buy twelue houres so deerely, and then bee begd out of'em so easily? heele be out at heeles shortly sure for he's out about the clockes already: O foolish young man how doest thou spend thy time?

Enter Leuer-poole first, then Allom and Chartly.
Leur.

Your grocer.

Dol [...]e

Nay Sfoot, then ile change my tune: I may cause such leaden-heeld rascalls; out of my sight: a knife, a knife I say: O Maister Allom, if you loue a woman, draw out your knife and vndo me, vndo me.

Allo.

Sweete mistris Dorothy, what should you do with a knife, it [...] ill medling with edge tooles, what's the matter Maisters! knife God blesse vs.

Leu.
[Page]

Sfoot what tricks at noddy are these.

Do.

Oh I shal burst, if I cut not my lace: I'me so vext! my father hee's ridde to Court: one was about a matter of a 1000. pound weight; and one of his men like a roague as he is is rid another way for rents, I lookt to haue had him vp yesterday, and vp to day, and yet hee showes not his head; s [...]e he's run away, or r [...]bd & run thorough; and here was a scriuener but euen now, to put my father in minde of a bond, that wilbe forfit this night if the mony be not payd Mais [...]er Allom. Such crosse fortune!

Allo.

How much is the bond?

Chart.

O rare little villaine.

Dol.

My father could take vp, vpon the barenesse of his word fiue hundred pound: and fiue toe.

Allom.

What is the debt?

Dol.

But hee scornes to bee—and I scorne to bee—

Allom.

Pree thee sweete Mistris Dorothy vex not, how much is it?

Dol.

Alas Maister Allom, tis but poore fifty pound.

Allo.

If that bee all, you shall vpon your worde take vp so much with me: another time ile [...]un as far in your bookes.

Dol.

Sir, I know not how to repay this kindnesse: but when my father —

All.

Tush, tush, tis not worth the talking: Iust 50 pound? when is it to be payd.

Dol.

Betweene one and two.

L [...]ue.

That's wee thre.

Allom.

Let one of your men goe along, and Ile send your fifty pound!

Dol.

You so bind mee sir, —goe sirra: Maister Allom, I ha some qu [...]nces brought from our house ith Country to preserue, when shall we haue any good Suger come ouer? the warres in Barbary make S [...]ger at such an excessiue rate; you pay sweetely now I warrant, sir do you not.

Al

You shal haue a whole che [...]t of Sugar if you please.

Dol.

Nay by my faith foure or fiue loues wil-be enough, and Ile pay you at my fi [...]st child Maister Allom.

Allom.

Content ifaith, your man shall bring all vnder one, ile borrow a kisse of you at parting.

Enter Captaine Iy [...]kins.
Dol.
[Page]

You shall sir, I borrow more of you.

Ex. Allo. & Leu.
Chart.

Saue you Captaine.

Dol.

Welcome good captaine Iynkins.

Captaine.

What is hee a Barber Surgeon, that drest your lippes so.

Dol.

A Barber [...] hee's may Taylor; I bidde him measure how hie, hee would make the standing coller of my new Taffatie Gowne before, and hee as Tailors wilbe sawcie and lickerish, laid mee ore the lippes.

Captaine.

Vds bloud ile laie him crosse vpon his coxcomb next daie.

Dol.

You know tis not for a Gentlewoman to stand with a knaue, for a small matter, and so I wud not striue with him, one­lie to be rid of him.

Capt.

If I take Maister prick-louse ramping so hie againe, by this Iron (which is none a gods Angell) ile make him know how to kisse your blind cheekes sooner: mistris Dorothy Hor­net, I wud not haue you bee a hornet, to licke at Cowsherds, but to s [...]ng such sh [...]eds of rascallity: will you sing a Tailor shall haue mee my ioy?

Dol.

Captaine, ile bee lead by you in any thing! a Taylor! foh.

Capt.

Of what stature or sise haue you a stomach to haue your husband now?

Dol.

Of the meanest stature Captaine, not a s [...]ze longer than your se [...]fe, nor shorter.

Cap.

By god, tis wel said: all your best Captaine in the Low-cou [...]tr [...]es are as taller as I: but why of my pitch Mistris Dol?

Dol.

Because your smallest Arrowes flie farthest; ah you little hard-fauord villaine, but sweete villaine, I loue thee bee­cause thou't draw a my side, hang the roague that will not fight for a woman.

Cap.

Vds blould, and hange him for vrse than a roague tha [...] will slash and cut for an oman, if she be a whore.

Dol.

Pree the good Captaine Iynki [...]s, teach mee to speake some welch, mee thinkes a Welchmans tongue is the neatest tongue! —

Cap.

As any tongue in the vrld, vnlesse Cramacrees, that's vrse.

Dol.
[Page]

How do you say, I loue you with all my heart.

Cap.

Mi cara whee, en hellon.

Dol.

Mi cara whee, en hel-hound.

Cap.

Hel▪ hound, o mondu, my cara whee, en hellon.

Dol.

O, my cara whee en hellon.

Cap.

Oh! and you went to wryting schoole twenty score yeare in Wales, by Sesu, you cannot haue better vttrance, for welch.

Dol.

Come tit mee, come tat mee, come throw a kisse at me, how is that?

Cap.

By gad I kanow not, what your tit mees and tat mees are, but mee uatha — Sbloud I know what kisses be, aswel as I know a Welch hooke, if you will goe downe with Shrop-sheere cariers▪ you shal haue Welch enough in your pellies forty weekes.

Dol.

Say Captaine that I should follow your collours into your Country how should I fare there?

Cap.

Fare? by Sesu, O there is the most abominable seere! and wider siluer pots to drinck in, and softer peds to lie vpon & do our necessary pusines, and fairer houses and parkes, & holes for Conies, and more money, besides tosted Sees and butter­milke in Northwales diggon: besides, harpes, & Welch Freeze, and Goates, and Cow-heeles, and Metheglin, ouh, it may be set in the Kernicles, wil you ma [...]ch thither?

Dol.

Not with your Shrop-sheire cariers, Captaine.

Cap.

Will you go with Captaine Ienkin and see his Couzen Maddoc vpon Ienkin there, and ile run hedlongs by and by, & batter away money for a new Coach to iolt you in.

Dol.

Bestow your Coach vpon me, & two young white Mares, and you shall see how Ile ride.

Cap.

Will you? by all the leekes that are worne on Saint Da­uies daie I will buy not only a Coach, with foure wheeles, but also a white Mare and a stone horse too, because they shal traw you, very lustily, as if the diuill were in their arses.

Exit.

How novv, more Tailors —

Meetes Phillip.
Phi.

How sir; Taylors.

Dol.

O good Captaine, tis my Couzen.

Enter Leuerpoole at another dore.
Cap.
[Page]

Is he, I will Couzen you then sir too, one day.

Phil.

I hope sir then to Couzen you too.

Cap.

By gad I hobe so, fare-well Sidanien.

Exit.
Leuer.

Her's both money, and suger.

Dol.

O sweete villaine, set it vp.

Exit, and Enter presently.
Phil.

Sfoot, what tame suaggerer was this I met Doll.

Dol.

A Captaine, a Captaine: but hast scap't the Dunkerks ho­nest Philip? Philip ryalls are not more welcome: did thy father pay the sho [...]?

Phil.

He pai'd that shot, and then shot pistolets into my poc­kets: harke wench: chinck chink, makes the punck wanton and the Baud to winck.

Capers.
Chart.

O rare musick.

Leuer.

Heauenly consort, better than old Moones.

Phil.

But why? why Dol, goe these two like Beadells in blew? ha?

Doll.

Theres a morrall in that: flea off your skins, you pretious Caniballs: O that the welch Captaine were here a­gaine, and a drum with him, I could march now, ran, tan, tan, ta­ra, ran, tan, tan, sirra Philip has thy father any plate in's house.

Phil.

Enough to set vp a Gold-smithes shop.

Dol.

Canst not borrow some of it? wee shall haue guests to morrow or next day and I wud serue the hungry rag-a-muffins in plate, tho twere none of mine owne.

Phil.

I shall hardly borrow it of him but I could get one of mine Aunts, to beate the bush for mee, and she might get the bird.

Dol.

Why pree the, let me bee one of thine Aunts, and doe it for me then. As Ime vertuous and a Gentlewoman ile restore.

Phil.

Say no more tis don.

Dol.

What manner of man is thy father? Sfoot ide faine see the witty Monky because thou sayst he's a Poet: ile tell thee, what ile do: Leuer-poole or Chartly, shall like my Gentleman vs­her goe to him, and say such a Lady sends for him, about a son­net or an epitaph for her child that died at nurse, or for some deuice about a maske or so; if he comes you shall stand in a cor­ner, and see in what State ile beare my selfe: he does not know me, nor my lodging.

Phil.

No, no.

Doll.
[Page]

Ist a match Sirs? shalls be mery with him and his muse.

Omn.

Agreed, any scaffold to execute knauery vpon.

Doll.

Ile send then my vant-currer presently: in the meane time, marche after the Captaine, scoundrels, come hold me vp:

Looke how Sabrina sunck ith' riuer Seuerne,
So will we foure be drunke ith' ship-wrack Tauerne.
Exeunt.
Enter Bellamont, Maybery, and Mistresse Maybery.
May.

Come Wife, our two gallants will be here presently: I haue promist them the best of entertainment, with protestati­on neuer to reueale to thee their slander: I will haue thee beare thy selfe, as if thou madest a feast vpon Simon and Iudes day, to country Gentlewomen, that came to see the Pageant, bid them extreamly welcome, though thou wish their throats cut; 'tis in fashion.

Wife

O God I shall neuer indure them.

Bell.

Indure them, you are a foole: make it your case, as it may be many womens of the Freedome; that you had a friend in priuate, whom your husband should lay to his bosome: and he in requitall should lay his wife to his bosome: what treads of the toe, salutations by winckes, discourse by bitings of the lip, amorous glances, sweete stolne kisses when your husbands backs turn [...]d, would passe betweene them, beare your selfe to Greeneshield as if you did loue h [...]m for affecting you so intirely, not taking any notice of his iourney: theile put more tricks vp­on you: you told me Greeneshield meanes to bring his Sister to your house, to haue her boord here.

May.

Right, shee's some crackt demy-culuerin, that hath mis­caried in seruice: no matter though it be some charge to me for a time I care not.

Wife

Lord was there euer such a husband?

May.

Why, wouldst thou haue me suffer their tongues to run at large, in Ordinaries and Cock-pits; though the Knaues doe lye, I tell you Maister Bellamont, lyes that come from sterne lookes, and Sattin out-sides, and guilt Rapiers also, will be put vp and goe for currant.

Bell.

Right sir, 'tis a small sparke, giues fire to a beautifull wo­mans discredit.

May.

I will therefore vse them like informing kna [...]es in this kinde, make vp their mouthes with [...]iluer, and after bee re [...]eng'd vpon them: I was in doubt I should haue growne fat of late: & it were no [...] for law suites: and feare of our wiues, we rich men [Page] should grow out of all compasse: they come, my worthy friends welcome: looke my wiues colour rises already.

Green.

You haue not made her acquainted with the discouery.

May.

O by no meanes: yee see Gentlemen the affection of an old man; I would faine make all whole agen. Wife giue entertainment to our new acquaintance, your lips wife, any wo­mā may lend her lips without her husbands priuity tis alowable.

Wife.

You are very welcome; I thinke it be neere dinner time Gentlemen: Ile will the maide to couer, and returne presently.

Bell.

Gods pretious why doth she leaue them?

Exit.
May.

O I know her stomack: shee is but retirde into another chamber, to ease her heart with crying a little: it hath euer bin her humor▪ she hath done it 5. or 6. times in a day, when Courti­ers haue beene heare, if any thing hath bin out of order, and yet euery returne laught and bin as merry: & how is it Gentlemen, you are well acquainted with this roome, are you not?

Gree.

I had a dellicate banquet once on that table.

May.

In good time: but you are better acquainted with my bed chamber.

Bell.

Were the cloath of gold Cushins set forth at your en­tertainement?

Feth.

Yes Sir.

May.

And the cloath of T [...]ssew Valance▪

Feth.

They are very rich ones.

May.

God refuse me, they are lying Rascols, I haue no such furniture.

Green.

I protest it was the strangest, and yet with-all the hap­piest fortune that wee should meete you two at Ware, that euer redeemed such desolate actions: I would not wrong you agen for a million of Londons.

May.

No, do you want any money? or if you be in debt, I am a hundreth pound ith' Subsidie, command mee.

Feth.

Alas good Gentleman; did you euer read of the like pacience in any of your ancient Romans?

Bel.

You see what a sweet face in a Veluet cap can do, your cit­tizēs wiues are like Partriges, the hens are better thē the cocks.

Feth.

I beleeue it in troth, Sir you did obserue how the Gen­tlewoman could not containe her selfe, when she saw vs enter.

Bell

Right.

Feth.

For thus much I must speake in allowance of her mode­ [...]tie, when I had her most priuate she would blush extreamely.

Bell.
[Page]

I, I warrant you, and aske you if you would haue such a great sinne lie vpon your conscience, as to lie with another mans wife.

Feth.

Introth she would.

Bell.

And tell you there were maides inough in london, if a man were so vitiously giuen, whose Portions would helpe them to hu [...]sbands though gentlemen gaue the first onset.

Feth.

You are a merry ould gentleman infaith Sir: much like to this was her langwage.

Bell.

And yet clipe you with as voluntary a bosome; as if she had fallen in loue with you at some Innes a court reuels; and invi [...]ed you by letter to her lodging.

Fet.

Your knowledge Sir, is perfect without any information.

May.

Ile goe see what my wife is doing gentlemen, when my wife enters shew her this ring; and twill quit all suspition.

Exit.
Feth.

Dost heare Luke Greeshield wil thy wife by here presētly.

May.

I left my boy to waight vpon her, by this light, I thinke God prouides; for if this cittisen had not out of his ouerplus of kindnes proferd her, her diet and lodging vnder the name of my sister, I could not haue told what shift to haue made; for the greatest part of my mony is reuolted; weele make more vse of him, the whoresō rich Inkeeper of Doncaster her father shewed himselfe a ranke ostler: to send her vp at this time a yeare; and and by the carier to, twas but a iades trike of him.

Feth.

But haue you instructed her to call you brother.

Green.

Yes and shele do it, I left her at Bosomes Inne, sheele be here, presently.

Enter Maybery.
May.

Maister Greenesheild your sister is come; my wife is enter­taining her, by the masse I haue bin vpon her lips already, Lady you are welcome, looke you maister Greeneshield, because your sister is newly come out of the fresh aire, and that to be pent vp in a narrow lodging here ith' cittie may offend her health she shall lodge at a garden house of mine in Morefeilds where if it please you and my worthy friend heare to beare her company your seuerall lodgings and Ioint commons (to the poore ability of a cittizen) shalbe prouided.

Feth.

O God Sir.

May.

Nay no complement your loues comand it: shalls to dinner Gentlemen, come maister Bellamont Ile be the Gentle­man vsher to this faire Lady.

Gree.

Here is your ring Mistris; a thousand times, —and [Page] would haue willingly lost my best of maintenance that I might haue found you haire so tractable.

Wif.

Sir I am still my selfe, I know not by what means you haue grown vpō my husbād, he is much deceaued in you I take it: will you go in to dinner—O God that I might haue my wil of him & it were not for my husbād ide scratch out his eyes presētly.

Ex.
Fet.

Welcome to Londō bonny mistris Kate, thy husband little dreams of the familiarity that hath past betwene thee & I Kate.

Kate.

Noe matter if hee did: he ran away from me like a base slaue as he was, out of Yorke-shire, and pretended he would goe the Iland voiage, since I neere heard of him till within this fort­night: can the world condemne me for entertayning a friend, that am vsed so like an Infidel?

Fe.

I think not, but if your husbād knew of this he'd be deuorst.

Rat.

Hee were an asse then, no wisemen should deale by their wiues as the sale of ordinance passeth in Englād, if it breake the first discharge the workman is at the losse of it, if the second the Marchant, & the workman ioyntly, if the third the Marchant, so in our case, if a woman proue false the first yeare, turne her vpon her fathers n [...]ck, if the second, turne her home to her father but allow her a portion, but if she hould pure mettaile two yeare & flie to seueral peeces, in the third, repaire the ruines of her hone­sty at your charges, for the best peece of ordinance, may bee crackt in the casting, and for women to haue cracks and slaues, alas they are borne to them, now I haue held out foure yeare, doth my husband do any things about Londō doth he swagger?

Feth.

O as tame as a fray in Fleet estreete, when their are no­body to part them.

Ra.

I euer thought so, we haue notable valiant fellowes about Doncaster, theile giue the lie and the stab both in an instant.

Feth.

You like such kind of man-hood best Kate.

Rat.

Yes introth for I think any woman that loues her friēd, had rather haue him stand by it then lie by it, but I pray thee tel me, why must I be quarterd at this Cittizens garden house, say you.

Fe.

The discou [...]se of that wil set thy bloud on fire to be reuēgd on thy husbands forhead peece.

Ent. Bella. & Maist. Maybe.
Wif.

Wil you go in to dinner sir?

Rat.

Wil you lead the way forsoth?

Wif.

No sweete forsothe weele follow you.

[Page]O Maister Bellamont: as euer you tooke pitty vpon the simpli­city of a poore abused gentlewoman: wil you tell me one thing.

Bell.

Any thing sweet Mistris Mayberrie.

Wife.

I but will you doe it faithfully?

Bell.

As I respect your acquaintance I shall doe it.

Wife.

Tell me then I beseech you, doe not you thinke this minx is some noughty packe whome my husband hath fallen in loue with, and meanes to keepe vnder my nose at his garden house.

Bell.

No vpon my life is she not,

Wife.

O I cannot beleeue it, I know by her eies she is not honest, why should my husband proffer them such kindnes? that haue abused him and me; so intollerable: and will not luffer me to speake; theres the hellont not suffer me to speake.

Bell.

Fie fie, he doth that like a vserer, that will vfe a man with all kindnes, that he may be carelesse of paying his mony, vpon his day, and after-wards take the extremitie of the forfa­ture; your iealousie is Idle: say this were true, it lies in the bo­some of a sweete wife to draw her husband from any loose imperfection, from wenching, from Iealosie, from couituousnes from crabbednes, which is the old mans common disease, by her politicke yealding.

Bell.

She maye doe it from crabednes, for example I haue knowne as tough blades as any are in England broke vpon a fetherbed,—come to diner,

Wife.

Ile be ruled by you Sir, for you are very like mine vncle.

Bell.

Suspition workes more mischiefe growes more strong, To seuer ch [...]st beds then aparant wrongs.

Exit.

ACTVS 3.SAENA 1.

Enter Doll, Chartly Leuerpoole and Phillip.
Phil.

Come my little Punke with thy two Compositors to this vnlawfull painting house, thy pounders a my old poe [...]icall dad wilbe here presently, [...]ake vp thy State in this chayre, and beare thy selfe as if thou wert talking to thy pottecary after the receipt of a purgation: looke scuruily vpon him: sometimes be merrie and stand vppon thy pantoffles like a new elected scauinger.

Doll.
[Page]

And by and by melancholicke like a Tilter that hath broake his staues foule before his Mistrisse.

Phil.

Right, for hee takes thee to bee a woman of a great count: harke vpon my life hee's come.

Doll.

See who knocks: thou shalt see mee make a foole of a Poet, that hath made fiue hundred fooles.

Leuer.

Please your new Lady-ship hee's come.

Doll.

Is hee? I should for the more state let him walke some two houres in an vtter roome: if I did owe him money, 'twere not much out of fashion; but come enter him: Stay, when we are in priuate conference send in my Tayler.

Enter Bellamont brought in by Leuerpoole.
Leuer.

Looke you my Ladie's a sleepe, [...]heele wake presently.

Bell.

I come not to teach a Starling sir, God-boy-you.

Leuer.

Nay, in trueth Sir, if my Lady should but dreame you had beene heare.

Doll.

Who's that keepes such a prating?

Leuer.

'Tis I Madam.

Doll.

Ile haue you preferd to be a Cryer: you haue an exlent throate for't: pox a the Poet is he not come yet?

Leuer.

Hee's here Madam.

Doll.

Crie you mercy: I ha curst my Monkey for shrewd turnes a hundred times, and yet I loue it neuer the worse I protest.

Bel.

Tis not in fashion deere Lady to call the breaking out of a Gentlewomans lips, scabs, but the heate of the Liuer.

Dol.

So sir: if you haue a sweete breath, and doe not smell of swetty linnen, you may draw neerer, neerer.

Pel.

I am no friend to Garlick Madam.

Doll.

You write the sweeter verse a great deale sir, I hau [...] heard much good of your wit maister Poet: you do many de­uises for Cittizens wiues: I care not greatly because I haue a Citty Laundresse already, if I get a Citty Poet too: I haue such a deuise for you, and this it is.

Enter Tayler.

O welcome Tayler: do but waite till I dispatch my Tayler, and Ile discouer my deuice to you.

Bell.

Ile take my leaue of your Ladiship.

Doll.

No: I pray thee stay: I must haue you sweate for my deuice Maister Poet.

Phil.
[Page]

He sweats already beleeue it.

Dol.

A cup of wine there: what fashion will make a woman haue the best bodie Taylor.

Tay.

A short dutch wast with a round cathern-wheele far­dingale: a close sleeue wi [...]h a cartoose collour and a pickadell.

Dol.

And what meate will make a woman haue a fine wit Maister Poet.

Bel.

Fowle madam is the most light, delicate, & witty feeding.

Dol.

Fowle sayst thou: I know them that feede of it euery meale, and yet are as arrant fooles as any are in a kingdome of my c [...]edit: hast thou don Taylor? now to discouer my deuice sir: Ile drinck to you sir.

Phil.

Gods pretious, wee nere thought of her deuice before, pray god it be any thing tollerable.

Dol.

Ile haue you make 12. poesies for a dozen of cheese tren­chers.

Phil.

O horrible!

Bel.

In welch madam?

Dol.

Why in welch sir.

Bel.

Because you will haue them seru [...]d in with your cheese Ladie.

Dol.

I will bestow them indeede vpon a welch Captaine: one that loues cheese better than venson, for if you should but get 3. or 4. Cheshire cheeses and set them a running down Hie­gate-hill, he would make more hast after thē than after the best kennell of hounds in England; what think you of my deuice?

Bel.

Fore-god a very strange deuice and a cunning one.

Phil.

Now he begins to eye the goblet.

Bel.

You should be a kin to the Bellamonts, you giue the same Armes madam.

Dol.

Faith I paid sweetely for the cup, as it may be you and some other Gentleman haue don for their Armes.

Bel.

Ha, the same waight: the same fashion: I had three nest of them giuen mee, by a Nobleman at the christing of my sonne Philip.

Phil.

Your sonne is come to full age sir: and hath tane posse­ssion of the gift of his God-father.

Bel.

Ha, thou wilt not kill mee.

Phil.

No sir, ile kill no Poet least his ghost write satires a­gainst me.

Bel.
[Page]

Whats she? a good common welthes woman, shee was borne.

Phil.

For her Country, and has borne her Country.

Bel.

Heart of vertue? what make I here?

Phil.

This was the party you rail [...]d on: I keepe no worse cō ­pany than your selfe father, you were wont to say venery is like vsery that it may be allowed tho it be not lawfull.

Bel

Wherefore come I hither.

Dol.

To make a deuice for cheese-trenchers.

Phil.

Ile tell you why I sent for you, for nothing but to shew you that your grauity may bee drawne in: white haires may fall into the company of drabs aswell as red beardes into the soci­ety of knaues: would not this woman deceiue a whole camp ith Low-countries, and make one Commander beleeue she on­ly kept her cabbin for him, and yet quarter twenty more in't.

Dol.

Pree the Poet what doest thou think of me.

Bel.

I thinke thou art a most admirable, braue, beautifull Whore.

Dol.

Nay sir, I was told you would raile: but what doe you thinke of my deuice sir, nay: but you are not to depart yet Mai­ster Poet: wut sup with me? Ile cashiere all my yong barnicles, & weele talke ouer a peice of mutton and a partridge, wisely.

Bel.

Sup with thee that art a common vndertaker? thou that doest promise nothing but watchet eyes, bumbast calues and false peryvvigs.

Dol▪

Pree the comb thy beard with a comb of black leade, it may be I shall affect thee.

Bel.

O thy vnlucky starre! I must take my leaue of your wor­shippe I cannot fit your deuice at this instant: I must desire to borrovv a nest of goblets of you: O villanie! I wud some honest Butcher would begge all the queanes and knaues ith Citty and cary them into some other Country they'd sell better than Beefes and Calues: what a vertuous Citty would this bee then! mary I thinke there would bee a few people left int, vds foot, guld with Cheese-trenchers and yokt in entertainment with a Taylor? good, good.

Exit.
Phil.

How doest Doll?

Doll.

Scuruie, very scuruie.

Leuer.

Where shalls suppe wench?

Doll.

Ile suppe in my bedde: gette you home to your [Page] odging and come whē I send for you, ô filthy roague that I am.

Phil.

How! how, mistris Dorothy?

Dol.

Saint Antonies fire light in your Spanish slops: vds life, ille make you know a difference, betweene my mirth and mel­ancholy, you panderly roague.

Om.

We obserue your Ladiship.

Phi.

The puncks in her humer—pax.

Exit.
Dol.

Ile humor you and you pox mee: vds life haue I lien with a Spaniard of late, that I haue learnt to mingle such water with my Malago, Other's some scuruie thing or other breeding; how many seuerall loues of Plaiers of Vaulters, of Lieutenants haue I entertain'd besides a runner a the ropes, and now to let bloud when the signe is at the heart? should I send him a letter with some Iewel in't, he would requite it as lawiers do, that re-returne a wood-cock pie to their clients, when they send them a Bason and a Eu [...]e, I will instantly go and make my selfe drunke, till I haue lost my memory, liue a scoffing Poet?

Exit.
Enter Lep- [...]rog and Squirill.
Frog.

Now Squiri [...]l wilt thou make vs acquainted with the iest thou promist to tell vs of?

Squi.

I will discouer it, not as a Darby-shere women disco­uers her great teeth, in laughter: but softly as a gentlemā courts a wench behind an Arras: and this it is, yong Greenesheild thy Maister with Greenesheilds sister lie in my maisters garden-house here in More-fields.

Frog.

Right, what of this?

Squir

Mary sir if the Gentlewoman be not his wife, he com­mits incest, for Ime sure he lies with her euery night.

Fro.

All this I know, but to the rest.

Squir.

I will tell thee, the most pollitick trick of a woman, that ere made a mans face looke witherd and pale like the tree in Cuckolds Hauen in a great snow: and this it is, my mistris makes her husband belieue that shee walkes in her sleepe a nights, and to confirme this beleefe in him, sondry times shee hath rizen out of her bed, vnlockt all the dores, gon frō Cham­ber to Chamber, opend her chests, touz'd among her linnen, & when he hath wakte & mist her, comming to question why she coniur'd thus at midnight, he hath found her fast a sleepe, mary it was Cats sleepe, for you shall heare what prey she watcht for.

Frog.

Good; forth.

Squir.
[Page]

I ouer-heard her last night talking with thy Maister, and she promist him that assoone as her husband was a sleepe, she would walke according to her custome, and come to his Chamber, mar [...]y shee wou [...]d do it so pu [...]annically, so secretly I meane that no body should heare of it.

Frog.

[...] possible?

Squir.

Take but that corner and stand close, and thine eyes shall w [...]t [...] esse it.

Frog.

O [...]ntollerable witte, what hold can any man take of a womans honesty.

Squi.

Hold? no more hold then of a Bull noynted with Sope, and baited with a sn [...]a [...]e of [...]idle [...]s i [...] Staffordshire: stand close I heare her comming.

Enter Kate.
Kate.

W [...]at a filt [...]y knaue was the shoo-maker, that made my slippers, what a cre [...]king they keepe: O Lord, if there be any power that can make a w [...]mans husband sleepe s [...]undly at a pinch, as I haue often [...] in foolish Poetrie that the [...]e is, now, now, and it be thy will, let him dreame some fine d [...]ame or o­ther, that hee's made a Knight, or a Noble-man, or some-what whilst I go and take b [...]t two kisses, but two kisses from sweete Fetherstone.

Exit.
Squi.

Sfoot hee may well d [...]eame hees made a Knight: for Ile be hangd i [...] she do [...]ot d [...]b him.

Green.

Was there euer any walking spirit, like to my wife? what reason s [...]ould there bee in nature for this▪ I will question some [...]tion: not heare neither: vdslife, I would laugh if she were in Maister Fetherstones Chamber, shee would fright him, Mai [...]er Fetherstone, Maister Fetherstone.

Within Fether.

Ha, how now who cals?

Green.

Did you leaue your doore open last night?

Feth.

I know not, I [...]inke my boy did.

Green.

Gods light shee's there then, will you know the iest, my wife hath her old tricks, Ile hold my life, my wife's in your chamber, rise out of your bed, and see and you can feele her.

Squi.

He will feele her [...] warrant you?

Gree.

Haue you her sir?

Feth.

[...]ot yet sir, shees here sir.

Enter Feth [...]rstone and Kate in his armes.
Green.

So I said euen now to my selfe before God la: take her vp in your armes, and bring her hether softly, for feare of waking [Page] her: I neuer knew the like of this before God la, alas poore Kate, looke before God; shees a sleepe with her eyes open: prit­tie little roague, Ile wake her, and make her ashamd of it.

Feth.

O youle make her sicker then.

Green.

I warrant you; would all women thought no more hurt then thou doost, now sweet villaine, Kate, Kate.

Kate.

I longd for the merry thought of a phesant.

Green.

She talkes in her sleepe.

Kate.

And the foule-gutted Tripe-wife had got it, & eate halfe of it: and my colour went and came, and my stomach wambled: till I was ready to sound, but a Mid-wife perceiued it, and markt which way my eyes went; and helpt mee to it, but Lord how I pickt it, 'twas the sweetest meate me thought.

Squi.

O pollitick Mistrisse.

Green.

Why Kate, Kate?

Kate.

Ha, ha, ha, I beshrew your hart, Lord where am I?

Green.

I pray thee be not frighted.

Kate.

O I am sick, I am sick, I am sick, O how my flesh trembles: oh some of the Angelica water, I shal haue the Mother presently.

Gree.

Hold downe her stomach good maister Fetherstone, while I fetch some.

Exit.
Feth.

Well dissembled Kate.

Kate.

Pish, I am like some of your Ladies that can be sick when they haue no stomack to lie with their husbands.

Feth.

What mischiuous fortune is this: weel haue a iourney to Ware Kate, to redeeme this misfortune.

Kate.

Well, Cheaters do not win all wayes: that woman that will entertaine a friend, must as well prouide a Closet or Back-doore for him, as a Fether-bed.

Feth.

Be my troth I pitty thy husb [...]nd.

Kate.

Pitty him, no man dares call him Cuckold; for he weares Sattin: pitty him, he that will pull downe a mans signe, and set vp hornes, there's law for him.

Feth.

Be sick againe, your husband comes.

Enter Greeneshield with a broken shin.
Green.

I haue the worst luck; I thinke I get more bumps and shrewd turnes ith' darke, how do's she maister Fetherstone.

Feth.

Very ill sir; shees troubled with the moother extreamly, I held downe her belly euen now, and I might feele it rise▪

Kate.

O lay me in my bed, I beseech you.

Gree.
[Page]

I will finde a remedy for this walking, if all the Docters in towne can sell it; a thousand pound to a penny she spoile not her face, or breake her neck, or catch a cold that shee may nere claw off againe, how doost wench?

Kate.

A little recouerd; alas I haue so troubled that Gentlemā.

Feth.

None ith' world Kate, may I do you any farther seruice.

Kate.

And I were where I would be in your bed: pray pardon me, wast you Maister Fetherstone, hem, I should be well then.

Squi.

Marke how she wrings him by the fingers.

Kate.

Good night, pray you giue the Gentleman thankes for patience.

Green.

Good night Sir.

Feth.

You haue a shrewd blow, you were best haue it searcht.

Green.

A scratch, a scratch.

Exit.
Feth

Let me see what excuse should I frame, to get this wench forth a towne with me: Ile perswade her husband to take Phi­sick, and presently haue a letter framed, from his father in law, to be deliuerd that morning for his wife, to come and receiue some small parcell of money in Enfield chase, at a Keepers that is her Vncle, then sir he not beeing in case to trauell, will intreate me to accompany his wife, weele lye at Ware all night, and the next morning to London, Ile goe strike a Tinder, and frame a Letter presently.

Exit.
Squi.

And Ile take the paines to discouer all this to my mai­ster old Maybery, there hath gone a report a good while, my Maister hath vsed them kindly, because they haue beene ouer familiar with his wife, but I see which way Fetherstone lookes. sfoote ther's neare a Gentleman of them all shall gull a Citizen, & thinke to go scot-free: though your commons shrinke for this be but secret, and my Maister shall intertaine thee, make thee in­steed of handling false Dice, finger nothing but gold and siluer wagge, an old Seruing-man turnes to a young beggar, whereas a young Prentise may turne to an old Alderman, wilt be secret?

Leap.

O God sir, as secret as rushes in an old Ladyes Cham­ber.

Exit.

ACTVS 4. SCENA 1.

Enter Bellamont in his Night-cap, with leaues in his hand, his man after him with lights, Standish and Paper.
Bel.
[Page]

Sirra, Ile speake with none.

Seru.

Not a plaier:

Bel.
No tho a Sharer ball,
Ile speake with none altho it be the mouth
Of the big company, Ile speake with none,—away.

Why should not I bee an excellent sta [...]esman? I can in the wry­ting of a tragedy, make Caesar speake be [...]ter than euer his am­bition could: when I write of Pompey I haue Pomp [...]ies soule within me, and when I pe [...]sona [...]e a worthy Poet, I a [...] then truly my selfe, a poo [...]e vnpreferd scholler.

Enter his Man hastily.
Seru,

Here's a [...]waggering fellow sir, that speakes not like a man of gods making, sweares he must speake with you and wil speake with you.

Bel

Not of gods making what is he? a Cuckold?

Seru▪

He's a Gentl [...]man sir, by his clothes.

Bel.

Enter him and his clothes: cl [...]the [...] sometimes are bet­ter Gentlemen than their Maisters.

Ent. the Captaine & the Ser.

is this he? Seeke you me sir.

Cap.

I seeke sir, (god plesse you) for a Sentillman, that talkes besides to himselfe when he's alone, as if hee were in Bed-lam, and he's a Poet.

Bel.

So sir it may bee you seeke mee, for Ime sometimes out a my wits.

C [...]p.

You are a Poet sir, are you.

Bel.

Ime haunted with a Fury Sir.

Cap.

Pray Maister Poet shute off this little pot-gun, and I wil coniure your Fu [...]y: tis well lay you sir, my desires are to haue some amiable and amorous sonnet or madrigall composed by your Fury, see you.

Bel.

Are you a louer sir of the nine Muses.

Cap.

Ow, by gad out a cry.

Cap.

Y'are then a scholler sir.

Cap.

I ha pickt vp my cromes in Sesus colledge in Oxford one day a gad w [...]ile ag [...]e▪

Bel.

Y'are welcome y'are very welcome, Ile borrow your Iudgement looke you sir, Ime writyng a Tragedy, the Tragedy of young Astianax.

Cap.

S [...]nax Tragedy is he liuing can you tell? was not Sti­anax a M [...]n-mouth man?

Bel.

O no sir, you mistake, he was a Troyane great Hectors Son.

Cap.
[Page]

Hector was grannam to Cadwallader, when shee was great with child, god vdge me, there was one young Styanan of Mon-mouth sheire was a madder greeke as any is in al Englād.

Bel.

This was not he assure yee: looke you sir, I will haue this Tragedy presented in the French Court, by French Gallants.

Cap.

By god your Frenchmen will doe a Tragedy enterlude, poggy well.

Bel.

It shalbe sir at the marriages of the Duke of Orleans, and Chatilion the admiral of France, the stage.

Cap.

Vds bloud, does Orleans marry with the Admirall of France now.

Bel

O sir no, they are two seuerall marriages. As I was say­ing the stage hung all with black veluet, and while tis acted, my self wil stád behind the Duke of Biron, or some other cheefe mi­nion or so, — who shall, I they shall take some occasion about the musick of the fourth Act, to step to the French King, and say, Sire, voyla, il et votre treshumble seruiteur, le plu sage, è diuin [...] espirit, monsi [...]ur Bellamont, all in French thus poynting at me, or you is the learned old English Gentleman Maister Bellamont a very worthie man, to bee one of your priuy Chamber, or Poet Lawreat.

Cap.

But are you sure Duke Pepper-noone wil giue you such good vrdes, behind your back to your face.

Bel.

Oh I, I, I man, he's the onely courtier that I know there: but what do you thinke that I may come to by this.

Cap.

God vdge mee, all France may hap die in your debt for this.

Bel

I am now wryting the description of his death.

Cap.

Did he die in his ped▪

Bel.

You shall heare: suspition is the Mynion of g [...]eat hearts, no: I will not begin there: Imagine a great man were [...]o be ex­ecuted about the 7. houre in a gloomy morning.

Capt.

As it might bee Sampson or so, or great Golias that was kild by my Countriman.

Bel.
Right sir, thus I expresse it in yong Astianax.
Now the wilde people greedy of their griefes,
Longing to see, that which their thoughts abhord,
Preuented day, and rod on their owne roofes.
Cap.
[Page]

Could the little horse that ambled on the top of Paules [...] cary all the people; els how could they ride on the roofes!

Bel.
O sir, tis a figure in Poetry, marke how tis followed,
Rod on their owne roofes,
Making all Neighboring houses tilde with men; tilde with men [...]ist not good.
Cap.

By Sesu, and it were tilde all with naked Imen twere better.

Bel.

You shall heare no more; pick your eares, they are fowle sir, what are you sir pray?

Cap.

A Captaine sir, and a follower of god Mars.

Bel.

Mars, Bachus, and I loue Apollo! a Captaine! then I par­don your sir, and Captaine what wud you presse me for?

Cap.

For a witty ditty, to a Sentill-oman, that I am falne in with all, ouer head and eares in affections, and naturall desires.

Bel.

An Acrostick were good vpon her name me thinkes.

Cap.

Crosse sticks: I wud not be too crosse Maister Poet; yet if it bee best to bring her name in question, her name is mistris Dorothy Hornet.

Bel.

The very consumption that wasts my Sonne, and the Ayme that hung lately vpon mee: doe you loue this Mistris Dorothy?

Cap.

Loue her! there is no Captaines wife in England, can haue more loue put vpon her, and yet Ime sure Captaines wiues, haue their pellies full of good mens loues.

Be.

And does she loue you? has there past any great matter be­tweene you?

Cap.

As great a matter, as a whole coach, and a horse and his wife are gon too and fro betweene vs.

Bel.

Is shee? ifayth Captaine, bee valiant and tell trueth, is she honest?

Cap.

Honest? god vdge me, shee's as honest, as a Punck, that cannot abide fornication, and lechery.

Bel.

Looke you Captaine, Ile shew you why I aske, I hope you thinke my wenching daies are past, yet Sir, here's a letter that her father, brought me from her and inforc'd mee to take this very day.

Enter a Seruant and Whispers.
Cap.
[Page]

Tis for some loue—song to send to me, I hold my life.

Bel.

This falls out pat, my man tells mee, the party is at my dore, shall she come in Captaine?

Cap.

O I, I, put her in, put her in I pray now.

Exit Seru.
Bel.

The letter saies here, that she's exceeding sick, and in­treates me to visit her: Captaine, lie you in ambush behind the hangings, and perhaps you shall heare the peece of a Comme­dy: she comes, she comes, make your selfe away.

Cap.

Does the Poet play Torkin and cast my Lucraesies water too in hugger muggers? if he do, Styanax Tragedy was neuer so horrible bloudy-minded, as his Commedy shalbe, — Tawsons Captaine Ienkins.

Enter Doll.
Dol.

Now Maister Poet, I sent for you.

Bel.

And I came once at your Ladiships call.

Dol.

My Ladiship and your Lordship lie both in one man­ner; you haue coniur'd vp a sweete spirit in mee haue you not Rimer?

Bel.

Why M [...]dea! what spirit! wud I were a young man for thy sake.

Dol.

So wud I, for then thou couldst doe mee no hurt; now thou doest.

Bel.

If I were a yonker, it would be no Imodesty in me to bee seene in thy company; but to haue snow in the lap of Iune; vile! vile: yet come; garlick has a white head, and a greene stalke, then why should not▪ I? lets bee merry: what saies the diuill to al the world, for Ime sure thou art carnally possest with him.

Dol.

Thou hast a filthy foot, a very filthy cariers foote.

Bel.

A filthy shooe, but a fine foote, I stand not vpon my foote I.

Cap.

What stands he vpon then? with a pox god blesse vs?

Doll.

A legge and a Calfe! I haue had better of a butcher fortie times for carrying a body! not worth begging by a Bar­ber-surgeon.

Bel.

Very good, you draw me and quarter me, fates keepe me from hanging.

Dol.

And which most turnes vp a womans stomach, thou art an old hoary man: thou hast gon ouer the bridge of many years, and now art ready to drop into a graue: what doe I see then [Page] in that withered face of thine?

Bell.

Wrinkles: grauity.

Doll.

Wretchednes: griefe: old fellow thou hast be witch me; I can neither eate for thee, nor sleepe for thee, nor lie quietly in my bed for thee.

Cap.

Vd [...] blood! I did neuer see a white flea before I will clinge you?

Doll.

I was borne sure in the dog dayes [...]me so vnluky; I, in whome neither a flaxen haire, yellow beard, French doublet, nor Spanish hose, youth nor personage, rich [...]ace nor mony cold euer breed a true loue to any, euer to any man, am now besot­ted, doate, am mad, for the carcas of a man, and as if I were a baud, no ring pleases me but a deaths head.

Cap.

Sesu, are I men so arsy varsy.

Bell.

Mad for me? why if the worme of lust were wrigling within mee as it does in others, dost thinke Ide crawle vpon thee; wud I low after thee, that art a common calfe-bearer.

Doll.

I confesse it.

Cap.

Doe you, are you a towne cowe and confesse you beare calues.

Doll.

I confesse, I haue bin an Inne for any guest.

Cap.

A pogs a your stable-roome; is your Inne a baudy house now?

Doll.

I confesse (for I ha bin taught to hide nothing from my Suergeon and thou art he) I confesse that old stinking Surgeon like thy selfe) whom I call father, that Hornet neuer sweat for me, Ime none of his making.

Cap.

You lie he makes you a punke Hornet minor.

Dol.

Hees but a cheater, and I the false die hee playes with­all, I power all my poyson out before thee, because heareafter I will be cleane: shun me not, loath me not, mocke me not, plagues confound thee, I hate thee to the pit of hell, yet if thou goest thither, ile follow thee, run, ayde doe what thou canst, ile run and ride ouer the world after thee.

Cap.

Cockatrice: you mistris Salamanders that feare no bur­ning, let my mare and my mares horse, and my coach come run­ning home agen and run to an hospitall, and your Surgeons, and to knaues and panders and to the tiuell and his tame to.

Doll.

Fiend art thou raized to torment me.

Bel.
[Page]

Shee loues you Captaine honestly.

Cap.

Ile haue any man, oman or cilde by his eares, that saies a common drab can loue a Sentillman honestly, I will sell my Coach for a cart to haue you to puncks hall, Pridewell, I sarge you in Apollos name, whom you belong to, see her forth-com­ming, till I come and tiggle her, by and by, Sbloud I was neuer Couzend with a more rascall peece of mutton, since I came out a the Lawer Countries.

Exit.
Bel.

My dores are open for thee, be gon: woman!

Doll.

This goates—peezle of thine —

Bel.

Away: I loue no such implements in my house.

Dol.

Doest not? am I but an implement? by all the maiden­heads that are lost in London in a yeare (& thats a great oth) for this trick, other manner of women than my selfe shall come to this house only to laugh at thee; and if thou wouldst labour thy heart out, thou shalt not do withal.

Exit.

Enter Seruant.
Bel.

Is this my Poeticall fury? how now sir!

Ser.

Maister Maybery and his wife sir ith next roome.

Bel.

What are they doing sir?

Ser.

Nothing sir, that I see, but onely wud speake with you.

Bel.

Enter 'em: this house wilbe to hot for mee, if this wench cast me into these sweates, I must shift my selfe, for pure neces­sity, haunted with sprites in my old daies!

Enter Maybery booted, his Wife with him.
May.

A Commedy, a Canterbury tale smells not halfe so sweete as the Commedy I haue for thee old Poet: thou shalt write vpon't Poet.

Bel.

Nay I will write vpon't ift bee a Commedie, for I haue beene at a most villanous female Tragedie: come, the plot, the plot.

May.

Let your man giue you the bootes presently, the plot lies in Ware my white Poet: Wife thou and I this night, will haue mad sport in Ware, marke me well Wife, in Ware.

Wif.

At your pleasure sir.

May.

Nay it shalbe at your pleasure Wife: looke you sir, looke you: Fetherstones boy (like an honest crack-halter) layd o­pen all to one of my prentices, (for boies you know like women loue to be doing.)

Bel.

Very good: to the plot.

May.
[Page]

Fetherstone like a crafty mutton-monger, perswades Greenshield to be run through the body.

Bell.

Strange! through the body?

May.

I man, to take phisick▪ he does so, hee's put to his pur­gation; then sir what does me Fetherstone, but counterfits a let­ter from an Inkeeper of Doncaster, to fetch Greenshield (who is needy you know) to a keepers lodge in Enfeild-chace▪ a certaine Vncle, where Greenshield should receiue mony due to him in behalfe of his wife.

Bell.

His wife! is Greensheild married? I haue heard him sweare he was a batchiler.

Wife.

So haue I a hundred times.

May.

The knaue has more wiues than the Turke, he has a wife almost in euery shire in England, this parcel Gentlewoman is that Inkeepers Daughter of Doncaster.

Bel.

Hath she the entertainement of her fore-fathers? wil she keepe all commers company?

May.

She help's to passe away stale Capons, sower wine, and musty prouander: but to the purpose, this traine was layd by the baggage her selfe and Fetherstone, who it seemes makes her hus­band a vnicorne: and to giue fire to [...]t, Greensheild like an Arrant wittall intreates his friend, to ride before his wife, and [...]etch the money, because taking bitter pills, he should proue but a loose fellow if he went, and so durst not go.

Bell.

And so the poore Stag is to bee hunted in Enfeild [...]chace

May.

No sir, Maister poet there you misse the plot. Fetherstone and my Lady Greensheild are rid to batter away their light com­modities in Ware, Enfeild-chace is to cold for 'em.

Bell.

In Ware!

M [...]y

In dur [...] Ware: I forget my selfe wise, on with your ry­ding suite and cry North-ward hoe, as the boy at Powles saies, let my Prentice get vp before thee, and m [...]n t [...]ee to Ware, lodge in the [...]ne I told thee, spur cut and away.

Wife.

Well sir.

Exit.
Bell.

Stay, stay, whats the bottom of this riddle? why send you her away?

May.

For a thing my little hoary Poet: looke thee, I smelt out my noble stincker Greensheild in his Chamber, and as tho [Page] my heart stringes had bin crackt, I wept, and sighd, & thumpd, and thumpd, and rau'd and randed, and raild, and told him how my wife was now growne as common as baibery, and that shee had hierd her Taylor to ride with her to Ware, to meete a Gentleman of the Court.

Bel.

Good; and how tooke he this drench downe.

May.

Like Egs and Muscadine, at a gulp: hee cries out pre­sently, did not I tell you old man, that sheed win my game when she came to bearing? hee railes vpon her, wills me to take her in the Act; to put her to her white sheete, to bee diuorc'd, and for all his guts are not fully scourd by his Pottecary, hee's pulling on his bootes, & will ride along with vs; lets muster as many as wee can.

Bel.

It wilbe excellent spo [...]t, to see him and his owne wife meete in Ware, wilt not? I, I, weele haue a whole Regiment of horse with vs.

May.

I stand vpon thornes, tel I shake him bith hor [...]es: come, bootes boy, we must gallop all the way, for the Sin you know is done with turning vp the white of an eye, will you ioyne your forces.

Bel.

Like a Hollander against a Dunk [...]rke.

May.
March then, this curse is on all letchers throwne,
They giue hornes and at last, hornes are their owne.
Exit.
Enter Captaine Ienkins, and Allom.
Cap.

Set the best of your little diminitiue legges before, and ride post I pray.

Allo.

Is it possible that mistris D [...]ll should bee so bad?

Cap.

Possible! S [...]ould tis more easie for an oman to be naught, than for a soldier to beg, and thats horrible easie, you know.

Al.

I but to connicatch vs all so grosly.

Cap.

Your Norfolke tumblers are but zanyes to connicatch­ing punckes.

Allom.

Shee gelded my purse of fifty pounds in ready money.

Cap.

I will geld all the horses in fiue hundred Sheires, but I will ride ouer her, and her cheaters, and her Hornets; Shee made a starke Asse of my Coach-horse, and there is a putter-box, whome shee spred thick vpon her white bread, and eate him vp, I thinke shee has sent the poore fellow to Gil­derland, but I will marse prauely in and out, and packe [Page] agen vpon all the low countries in Christendom, as Holland and Zeland and Netherland, and Cleueland too, and I will be drunke and cast with maister Hans van Belch, but I will smell him out.

Allom.

Doe so and weele draw all our arrowes of reuenge vp to the head but weele hit her for her villany.

Cap.

I will traw as petter, and as vrse weapons as arrewes vp to the head, lug you, it shalbe warrants to giue her the whippe deedle.

Allom.

But now she knowes shees discouered, sheele take her bells and fly out of our reach.

Cap.

Fle with her pells! ownds I know a parish that sal tag downe all the pells and sell em to Capten Ienkens, to do him good▪ and if pelle will fly, weele flie too, vnles, the pell-ropes hang vs: will you amble vp and downe to maister Iustice by my side, to haue this rascall Hornet in corum, and so, to make her hold her whoars peace.

Allom.

Ile amble or trot with you Capten: you told me, she threatened her champions should cut for her, if so, wee may haue the peace of her.

Cap.

O mon du! u dguin! follow your leader, Ienken shall cut, and Slice, as worse as they: come I scorne to haue any peace of her, or of any onam, but open warres.

E [...]unt.
Enter Bellamont, Maybery, Greensheild, Phillip, Leuarpoole, Chartley: all booted.
Bell.

What? will these yong Gentlemen to helpe vs to catch this fresh Salmon, ha! Phillip! are they thy friends.

Phil.

Yes Sir▪

Bell.

We are beholding to you Gentlmen that youle fill our consort I ho seene your faces me thinkes before; and I cannot informe my selfe where.

Both,

May be so Sir.

Bell.

Shalls to horse, hears a tickler: heigh: to horse.

May.

Come Switts and Spurres! lets mount our Cheualls: merry quoth a.

Bell.

Gentlemen shall I shoote a fooles bolt out among you all, because weele be sure to be merry.

Omn.
[Page]

What ist?

Bell.

For mirth on the high way, will make vs rid ground fa­ster then if theeues were at our tayles, what say yee to this, lets all practise iests one against another, and hee that has the best iest throwne vpon him, and is most gald, betweene our riding foorth and comming in, shall beare the charge of the whole iourney.

Omn.

Content ifaith.

Bell.

Wee shall fitte one a you with a Cox-combe at Ware I beleeue.

May.

Peace.

Green.

Ist a bargen.

Omn.

And hands clapt vpon it.

Bel.

Stay, yonders the Dolphin without Bishops-gate, where our horses are at rack and manger, and wee are going past it: come crosse ouer: and what place is this?

May.

Bedlam ist not?

Bel.

Where the mad-men are, I neuer was amongst them, as you loue me Gentlemen, lets see what Greekes are within.

Green.

Wee shall stay too long.

Bell.

Not a whit, Ware will stay for our comming I warrant you: come a spurt and away, lets bee mad once in our dayes: this is the doore.

Enter Full-moone.
May,

Saue you sir, may we see some a your mad-folkes, doe you keepe em?

Full.

Yes.

Bell.

Pray bestow your name sir vpon vs.

Full.

My name is Full-moone.

Bell.

You well deserue this office good maister Full-moone: and what mad-caps haue you in your house,

Enter the Phisition.
Ful.

Diuerse.

May.

Gods so, see, see, whats hee walkes yonder, is he mad.

Full.

Thats a Musition, yes hee's besides himselfe.

Bell.

A Musition, how fell he mad for Gods sake?

Ful.

For loue of an Italian Dwarfe.

Bell.

Has he beene in Italy then?

Full.

Yes and speakes they say all manner of languages.

Enter the Ba [...]d.
Omn.

Gods so, looke, looke, whats shee.

Bell.

The dancing Beare: a p [...]itty well-fauourd little woman.

Full.

They say, but I know not, that she was a Bawd, and was frighted out of her wittes by fire,

Bel.
[Page]

May we talke with 'em maister Ful-moone

Full.

Yes and you will; I must looke about for I haue vnruly tenants.

Exit.
Bell.

What haue you in this paper honest friend?

Gree

Is this he has al manner of languages, yet speakes none

Baud.

How doe you Sir Andrew, will you send for some [...]qua­uite for me, I haue had no drinke neuer since the last great raine that fell.

Bel.

No thats a lye.

Baud.

Nay by gad, then you lie, for all y'are Sir Andrew, I was a dapper [...]ogue in Portingall voiage, not an inch broad at the heele, and yet thus high, I scornd I can tell you to be druncke with raine water then Sir, In those golden and siluer dayes: I had sweete bitts then Sir Andrew: how doe you good brother Timothy?

Bella.

You haue bin in much trouble since that voiage.

Baud.

Neuer in bride-wel I protest, as Ime a virgin: for I could neuer abide that bride-wel I protest, I was once sicke, and I tooke my water in a basket, and cary'd it to a doctors.

Phil.

In a basket.

Baud.

Yes Sir: you arrant foole there was a vrinall in it.

Phil.

I cry you mercy.

Baud.

The Doctor told me I was with child, how many Lords Knights, Gentlemen, Cittizens, and others promist me to be god-fathers to that child: twas not Gods will: the prentises made a riot vpon my glasse-windowes the Shroue-tuesday fol­lowing and I miscaried.

Omn.

O doe not weepe.

[...]aud.

I ha cause to weepe: I trust Gintlewomen their diet sometimes a fortnight: lend Gentlemen holland shirts, and they sweat 'em out at tennis: and no restitution, and no restitution▪ but Ile take a new order, I will haue but six stewd prunes in a dish and some of mother Walls cakes: for my best customers are taylors.

Omn.

Taylors! ha ha.

[...]aud.

I Taylors: giue me your London Prentice; your coun­try Gentlemen are growne too polliticke.

Bel.

But what say you to such young Gentlemen as these are.

Baud.

[...]oh, they as soone as they come to their lands get vp to London, and like squibs that run vpon lynes, they keepe [Page] a Spitting of fire, and cracking till they ha spent all, and when my squib is out, what sayes his punke, foh, he stinckes.

Enter the musition.
Me thought this other night, I saw a pretty sight,
Which pleased me much.
A comely country mayd, not squeamish nor afraid,
To let Gentlemen touch.
I sold her maiden-head once, and I sold her maiden-head twice,
And I sould it last to an Alderman of Yorke.
And then I had sold it thrice.
Musi.

You sing sc [...]ruily.

Baud.

mary muffe, sing thou better, for Ile goe sleepe my old sleepes.

Exit.
Bell.

What are you a doing my friend.

Musi.

Pricking, pricking.

Bell.

What doe you meane by pricking?

Musi.

A Gentleman like quallity.

Bell.

This fellow is some what prouder, and sul [...]ner then the other.

May,

Oh; so be most of your musitions.

Musi.

Are my teeth rotten?

Omn.

No Sir.

Musi.

Then I am no Comfit-maker, nor Vintner, I doe not get wenches in my drincke: are you a musition?

Bel.

Yes.

Mu.

weele be sworne brothers then, looke you sweete roague.

Gree.

Gods so, now I thinke vpon't, a Iest is crept into my head, steale away, if you loue me.

Exeunt: musition sings.
Musi.

Was euer any marchants band set better I set it: walke Ime a cold, this white sattin is to thin vnles it be cut, for then the Sunne enters: can you speake Italian too, Sape [...]e Italiano.

Bell.

Vn poco.

Musi.

Sblood if it be in you, Ile po [...]ke it out if you; vn poco, come March lie heare with me but till the fall of the lease, and if you haue but poco Italiano in you, Ile fill you full of more poco March.

Bell.

Come on.

Exeunt.
Enter Maybery, Greeneshilde, Phillip. Full-moone. Leuerpoole, and Chartely.
Gree.

Good Maister Mayberie, Philip, if you be kind Gentle­men vphold the iest: your whole voiage is payd for.

May.

Follow it then.

Ful.
[Page]

The old Gentleman say you, why he talkt euen now as­well in his wittes as I do my selfe, and lookt as wisely.

Gree.

No matter how he talkes, but his Pericranion's perisht.

Ful.

Where is he pray?

Phil.

Mary with the Musition, and is madder by this time

Ch [...]er.

Hee's an excellent Musition himselfe, you must note that.

May.

And hauing met one fit for his one tooth: you see hee skips from vs.

Green.

The troth is maister Full-m [...]one, diuers traines haue bin laide to bring him hither, without gaping of people, and neuer any tooke effect till now.

Ful.

How fell he mad?

Green.

For a woman, looke you sir: here's a crowne to pro­uide his supper: hee's a Gentleman of a very good house, you shall bee paid well if you conuert him; to morrow morning, bedding, and a gowne shall be sent in, and wood and coale.

Ful.

Nay sir, he must ha no fire.

Green.

No, why looke what straw you buy for him, shall re­turne you a whole haruest.

Omnes.

Let his straw be fresh and sweet we beseech you sir?

Green.

Get a couple of your sturdiest fellowes, and bind him I pray, whilst wee slip out of his sight.

Ful.

Ile hamper him, I warrant Gentlemen.

Exit.
Omnes.

Excellent.

May.

But how will my noble Poet take it at my hands, to betray him thus.

Omn.

Foh, tis but a iest, he comes.

Enter Musition and Bellamont.
Bel.

Perdonate mi, si Io dimando del vostro nome: oh, whether [...]hrunke you: I haue had such a mad dialogue here.

Omn.

Wee ha bin with the other mad folkes.

May.

And what sayes he and his prick-song?

Bell.

Wee were vp to the eares in Italian ifaith.

Omn.

In Italian; O good maister Bellamont lets heare him.

Enter Full-moone, and two Keepers.
Bell.

How now, Sdeath what do you meane? are you mad?

Ful.

Away sirra, bind him, hold fast: you want a wench sirra, doe you?

Bell.

What wench? will you take mine armes from me, being no Heralds? let goe you Dogs.

Ful.
[Page]

Bind him, be quiet: come, come, dogs, fie, & a gentleman.

Bell.

Maister Maibery, Philip, maister Maibery, vds foot.

Ful.

Ile bring you a wench, are you mad for a wench.

Bel.

I hold my life my comrads haue put this fooles cap vpon thy head: to gull me: I smell it now: why doe you heare Full-moone, let me loose; for Ime not mad; Ime not mad by Iesu:

Ful.

Aske the Gentlemen that.

Bel.

Bith Lord I'me aswell in my wits, as any man ith' house, & this is a trick put vpon thee by these gallants in pure knauery.

Ful.

Ile trie that, answer me to this question: loose his armes a little, looke you sir, three Geese nine pence; euery Goose three pence, whats that a Goose, roundly, roundly one with another.

Bel.

Sfoot do you bring your Geese for me to cut vp.

Enter all.
strike him soundly, and kick him.
Omn.

Hold, hold, bind him maister Full-moone.

Ful.

Binde him you, hee has payd me all, Ile haue none of his bonds not I, vnlesse I could recouer them better.

Gre.

Haue I giuen it you maister Poet, did the Lime-bush take.

Ma.

It was his warrant sent thee to Bedlam, old Iack Bellamōt, and maister Full-ith'moone, our warrant discharges him; Poet, weele all ride vpon thee to Ware, & back agen I feare to thy cost.

Bel.

If you doe, I must beare you, thanke you Maister Green­shield, I will not dye in your debt: farewell you mad rascals, to horse come, 'tis well done; 'twas well done, you may laugh, you shall laugh Gentlemen: if the gudgeon had beene swallow­ed by one of you it had bin vile, but by Gad 'tis nothing, for your best Poets indeed are madde for the most part: farewell good-man Full-moone.

Ful.

Pray Gentlemen if you come by call in.

Exit.
Bell.

Yes, yes, when they are mad, horse your selues now if you be men.

May.
Hee gallop must that after women rides,
Get our wiues out of Towne, they take long strides.
Exeunt.

ACTVS 5. SCAENA 1.

Enter old Maybery and Bellamont.
May.

But why haue you brought vs to the wrong Inne? and withall possest Greenshield that my wife is not in towne: when my proiect was, that I would haue brought him vp into the [Page] chamber, where yong Fetherstone and his wife lay: and so all his Artillery should haue recoild into his owne bosome.

Bell.

O it will fall out farre better, you shall see my reuenge will haue a more neate and vnexpected conueyance: he hath bin all vp and downe the towne, to enquire for a Londoners wife, none such is to be found: for I haue mewd your wife vp already. mary he he [...]es of a Yorke-shire Gentlewoman at next Inne, and thats all the commodity Ware affoords at this instant: now sir, he very pollitickly imagins, that your wife is [...]ode to Puckridge, fiue mile further, for saith he in such a towne where Hosts will be fa­miliar, and Tapsters saucie, & Chamberlaines worse then theeues intelligencers, theile neuer put foot out of Stirrop: either at Puc­ridge or Wades-mill (saith he) you shall finde them: & because our horses are weary, hee's gone to take vp Post horse: my counsaile is onely this, when he comes in, [...]aine your selfe very melancho­lie, sweare you will ride no far [...]er, and this is your part of the Comedy: the sequeil of the iest shall come like money bor­rowed of a Courtier, and paid within the day, a thing strange & vnexpected.

Enter Greeneshield.
May.

Inough, Iha't,

Bel

He comes.

Gree.

Come gallants, the post horse are ready, tis but a quarter of an houres riding, weele [...]er [...]it them and [...]ke them in-faith.

Bel.

Are they growne pollitick? when do you see honesty couet corners, or a gentlemā thats no thie [...]e lie in the Inne of a carrier.

Mai.

Nothing hath vndone my wife, but too much riding.

Bel.

She was a pri [...]ty piec [...] of a Poet indeed, & in her discourse would as many of your Gold-smit [...]s wiues doe, d [...]aw her [...]mily from pretious stones, so wittily, as redder then your Ruby, har­der then your Diamond, and so from stone to stone, in l [...]sse time then a man can draw on a straight boote, as if she had beene an excellent Lapidary.

Green.

Come will you to horse sir?

May.

No let her go to the diuell and she will, Ile not stirre a foote further.

Green.

Gods pretious ist come to this: perswade him as you are a Gentleman, there will be ballads made of him, & the bur­then thereof will be, if you had rode out 5. mile forward, he had found the fatall house of Braineford North-ward, O hone, hone, hone ononero.

Bell,

You are merry sir.

Gre.

Like your Cittizen, I neuer thinke of my debts, when I am a horseback.

Bell.
[Page]

Vou imagin you are riding from your creditors.

Gree.

Good infaith: wil you to horse?

May.

Ile ride no further.

Gree.

Thē ile discharge the post-maister: was't not a pritty wit of mine maister Poet to haue had him rod into Puckridge, with a horne before him, ha wast not?

Bell.

Good sooth excellent: I was dull in apprehending it: but come since we must stay: wele be mery, chamberlaine call in the musick, bid the Tapsters & maids come vp and dance, what weel make a night of it, harke you maisters, I haue an exellent iest to make old Maibery merry, Sfoote weele haue him merry.

Green.

Lets make him drunke then, a simple catching wit I.

Bel.

Go thy waies, I know a Nobleman would take such a de­light in thee.

Green.

Why so he would in his foole.

Bel.

Before God but hee would make a difference, hee would keepe you in Sattin, but as I was a saying weel haue him merry: his wife is gon to Puckridge, tis a wench makes him melācholy, tis a wench must make him mery: we must help him to a wench. when your cittizen comes into his Inne, wet & cold, dropping, e [...]her the hostis or one of her maids, warmes his bed, puls on his night-cap, cuts his cornes puts out the candle, bids him cōmand ought, if he want ought: and so after maister cittiner sleepes as quietly, as if he lay in his owne low-country of Holland, his own linnen I meane sir, we must haue a wench for him.

Gree

But wher's this wench to be found, here are al the moue­able peticotes of the house.

Bel.

At the next Inne there lodged to night—

Gree.

Gods pretious a Yorkeshire Gentlewoman; I ha't, Ile angle for her presently, weele haue him merry.

Bel.

Procure some Chamberlaine to Pander for you.

Gree.

No Ile be Pander my selfe, because weele be mērry.

Bell.

Will you, will you?

Gree.

But how? be a Pander as I am a gentlemā? that were hor­rible, Ile thrust my self into the out-side of a Fawlconer in towne here: & now I thinke on't there are a company of coūtry plaiers, that are come to towne here, shall furnish mee with haire and beard: if I do not bring her, —wilbe wondrous merry.

Bel.

About it looke you sir, though she beare her far aloofe, and her body out of distance, so her mind be cōming 'tis no matter.

Green.
[Page]

Get old Maibery merry: tha [...] any man should take to heart thus the downe fall of a woman, I thinke when he comes home poore snaile, heele not dare to peepe forth of doores least his hornes vsher him.

Exit.
Bel.

Go thy wayes, there be more in England weare large eares and hornes, then Stagges and Asses: excellent hee rides poste with a halter about his neck.

May.

How now wilt take?

Bel.

Beyond expectation: I haue perswaded him the onely way to make you merry, is to helpe you to a wench, and the foole is gone to pander his owne wife hether.

May.

Why heele know her?

Bel.

She hath beene maskt euer since she came into the Inne, for feare of discouery.

May.

Then sheele know him.

Bel.

For that his owne vnfortunate wit helpt my lasie inuen­tion, for he hath disguisd himselfe like a Fawkner, in Towne heare, hoping in that procuring shape, to doe more good vpon her, then in the out-side of a Gentleman.

May.

Young Fetherstone will know him?

Bel.

Hee's gone into the towne, and will not returne this halfe houre.

May.

Excellent if she would come.

Bel.

Nay vpon my life sheele come: when she enters remem­ber some of your young bloud, talke as some of your gallant commoners will, Dice and drinke: freely: do not call for Sack, least it betray the coldnesse of your man-hood, but fetch a ca­per now & then, to make the gold chinke in your pockets: I so.

May.

Ha old Poet, lets once stand to it for the credit of Milke­streete. Is my wife acquainted with this.

Bel.

She's perfect, & will come out vpō her qu, I warrant you.

May.

Good wenches infaith: fils some more Sack heare.

Bel.

Gods pretious, do not call for Sack by any meanes.

May.

Why then giue vs a whole Lordship for life in Rhenish, with the reuersion in Sugar,

Bell.

Excellent.

May.

It were not amisse if we were dancing.

Bell.

Out vpon't, I shall neuer do it.

Enter Greensheild disguised, with mistresse Greensheild.
Green.

Out of mine nostrils tapster, thou smel [...]t like Guild-hall [...]wo daies after Simon and I [...]de, of drinke most horribly, off with [Page] thy maske sweete sinner of the North: these maskes are foiles to good faces, and to bad ones they are like new sattin out-sides to lousie linings.

Kat.

O by no meanes sir, your Merchant will not open a whole peece to his best costomer, hee that buies a woman, must take her as she fales: Ile vnmaske my hand heares the sample.

Green.

Goe to then, old Poet I haue tane her vp already as a pinnis bound for the straights, she knowes her burden yonder.

Bel.

Lady you are welcome: you is the old Gentleman and obserue him, he's not one of your fat Citty chuffes: whose great belly argues that the felicity of his life consistes in capon, sack, and sincere honesty, but a leane spare bountiful gallant one that hath an old wife, and a young performance: whose reward is not the rate of a Captaine newly come out of the Low-coūt [...]ies: or a Yorkeshiere Atturny in good contentious practice, some angel, no the proportion of your welthy Cittizen to his wench, is, her Chamber, her diet, her phisick, her apparell, her painting, her monkey, her pandar, her euery thing. Youle say your yong Gentleman, is your onely seruice that lies before you like a Calues head, with his braines some halfe yeard from him, but I assure you, they must not onely haue variety of foolery; but also of wenches: whereas your conscionable gray-beard of Farring­ton within, will keepe himselfe, to the ruines of one cast waigh­ting-woman an age: & perhaps, when he's past all other good workes, to wipe out false waightes, and twenty ith hundred, marry her—

Green.

O well bould Tom ( ) we haue presedents, for't▪

Kat.

But I haue a husband sir.

Bel.

You haue, if the knaue thy husband bee rich, make him poore, that he may borrow mony of this Merchant, and be layd vp in the Counter, or Ludgate, so it shall bee conscience in you old Gentleman, when he hath seized all thy goods, to take the horne and maintaine thee.

Green.

O well bould Tom ( ) wee haue presedents for't.

Kat.

Well if you be not a Nobleman, you are some great vali­ant Gentleman, by your bearth: and the fashion of your beard: and do but thus to make the Cittizen merry, because you owe him some money.

Bell.
[Page]

O you are a wag.

May.

You are very welcome.

Gree.

He is tane, excellent, excellent, ther's one will make him merry: is it any imputation to helpe ones friend to a wench?

Bel.

No more then at my Lords intreaty, to helpe my Lady to a pritty waighting woman: if he had giuen you a gelding, or the reuersion of some Monopoly, or a new sute of Sattin to haue done this, happily your Sattin would haue smelt of the Pander: but what's done freely, comes like a present to an old Lady, without any reward, and what is done without any rewarde, comes like wounds to a Souldier, very honourably not-with­standing.

May.

This is my breeding Gentlewoman: and whether tra­uaile you?

Kate.

To London sir, as the old tale goes, to seeke my fortune.

May.

Shall I be your fortune Lady?

Kate.

O pardon me sir, Ile haue some young landed heire to be my Forrune, for they fauour shee fooles more then Cittizens.

May.

Are you married?

Kate.

Yes, but my husband is in garrison ith' Low-countries, is his Colonels bawd, and his Captaines Iester: he sent me word ouer, that he will thriue: for though is apparell lie ith Lumbard, he keepes his conscience ith' Mu [...]ter-booke.

May.

Hee may do his countrie good seruice Lady.

Kate.

I as many of your Captaines do, that fight as the Geese saued the Capitoll, onely with pratling: well, well, if I were in some Noblemans hands now, may be he would not take a thou­sand pounds for me.

May.

No.

Kate.

No sir: and yet may be at yeares end, would giue me a brace of hundreth pounds to marry me to his Bayly, or the So­licitor of his Law sutes: whose this I beseech you?

Enter mistrisse Maybery her haire loose, with the Hostice.
Hostice.

I pray you forsooth be patient.

Bel.

Passion of my heart, Mistresse Maybery.

Exeunt Fidlers.
Green.

Now will shee put some notable trick, vpon her Cuck­oldly husband.

May.

Why how now Wife, what meanes this? ha?

Mi. Me.

Well, I am very well: ô my vnfortunate parents, would you had buried me quick, when you linkt me to this misery.

May.
[Page]

O wife be patient, I haue more cause to raile wife.

Misters May.

You haue, proue it, proue it: wheres the Courti­er, you should haue tane in my bosome: Ile spit my gall in's face, that can tax me of any dishonor: haue I lost the pleasure of mine eyes, the sweetes of my youth, the wishes of my bloud: and the portion of my friends, to be thus dishonord, to be reputed vild in London, whilst my husband prepares common diseases for me at Ware, O god O god.

Be.

Prettily wel dissembled.

Host.

As I am true hostice you are to blame sir, what are you maisters: Ile know what you are afore you depart maisters, dost thou leaue thy Chamber in an honest Inne, to come and inuea­gle my costomers, and you had sent for me vp, and kist me and vsde me like an hostice▪ twold neuer haue gre [...]ued mee, but to do it to a stranger.

Kate.

Ile leaue you sir.

May.

Stay, why how now sweete gentlewoman, cannot I come forth to breath my selfe, but I must bee haunted, raile vpon olde Bellamont, that he may discouer them, you remember Fetherstone Greensheild.

Mist. May.

I remember them, I, they are two as coging, disho­norable dambd forsworne beggerly gentlemē, as are in al Lon­don, and ther's a reuerent old gentleman to, your pander in my conscience.

Bel.

Lady, I wil not as the old goddes were wont, sweare by the infernall [...]tix: but by all the mingled wine in the seller be­neath, and the smoke of Tobacco that hath fumed ouer the ves­sailes, I did not procure your husband this banqueting dish of suckket looke you behold the parenthesis.

Host▪

Nay Ile see your face too.

Kat.

My deare vnkind husband; I protest to thee I haue playd this knauish part only to be witty.

Gree.

That I might bee presently turned into a ma [...]ter more sodllid then horne, into Marble

Bel.

Your husband gentlewoman: why hee neuer was a souldier

Kat.

I but a Lady got him prickt for a Captaine, I warrant you, he wil answere to the name of Captaine, though hee bee none: like a Lady thar wil not think scorne to answere to the name of her firs [...] husband; though he weare a Sope-boyler.

Green.

Hange of thou diuill, away.

Kat.
No, no, you fled me tother day,
[Page]When I was with child you ran away,
But since I haue caught you now.
Green.

A pox of your wit and your singing.

Bel.

Nay looke you sir, she must sing because weele be merry, what though you rod not fiue mile forward, you haue foūd that fatall house at Brainford Northward, O hone ho no na ne ro.

Green.

God refuse mee Gentlemen, you may laugh and bee merry: but I am a Cockold and I thinke you knew of it, who lay ith segges with you to night wild-ducke.

Kat.

No body with me, as I shall be saued: but Maister Fether­stone, came to meete me as far as Roistone.

Green.

Fetherstone.

May.

See the hawke that first stoopt, my phesant is kild by the Spaniell that first sprang all of our side wife.

Bel.

Twas a pretty wit of you sir, to haue had him rod into Puckeridge with a horne before him; ha: wast not;

Green.

Good.

Bel.

Or where a Cittizen keepes his house, you know tis not as a Gentleman keepes his Chamher for debt, but as you sayd euen now very wisely, least his hornes should vsher him.

Green.

Very good Fetherstone he comes.

Enter Fetherstone.
Feth.

Luke Greeneshield Maister Maybery, old Poet: Mol and Kate, most hapily incounterd, vdslife how came you heather, by my life the man lookes pale.

Green.

You are a villaine, and Ile mak't good vpon you, I am no seruingman, to feede vpon your reuersion.

Feth.

Go to the ordinary then.

Bel.

This is his ordinary sit & in this she is like a London or­dinary: her best getting comes by the box.

Green.

You are a dambd villaine.

Feth.

O by no meanes.

Green.

No, vdslife, Ile go instantly take a purse, be apprehen­ded and hang'd for't, better then be a Cockold.

Feth.

Best first make your confession sirra.

Green.

Tis this thou hast not vsed me like a Gentleman.

Feth.

A Gentleman: thou a gentleman: thou art a Taylor.

Bel.

Ware peaching.

Feth.

No sirra if you will confesse ought, tell how thou hast [Page] wronged that vertuous Gentlewoman: how thou laiest at her two yeare together to make her dishonest: how thou wouldest send me thether with letters, how duely thou woudst watch the cittizens wiues vacation, which is twice a day; namely the exchainge time, twelue at noone and six at night, and where she refused thy importunity, and vowed to tell her husband: thou wouldest fall downe vpon thy knees, and intreat her for the loue of Heauen, if not to ease thy violent affection, at least to conceale it, to which her pitty and simple vertue consented, how thou tookest her wedding ring from her, Met these two Gentlemen at Ware: fained a quarell, and the rest is apparant, this onely remaines what wrong the poore Gentlewoman hath since receaued by our intollerable lye; I am most hartely sorry for, and to thy bosome will maintaine all I haue said to bee honest.

May.

Victorie wise thou art quit by proclamation.

Bel.

Sir you are an honest man, I haue knowne an arrant theefe for peaching made an officer, giue me your hand Sir.

Kate.

O ffilthy abhominable husband did you all this?

May.

Certainely he is no Captaine he blushes.

Mi. May.

Speake Sir did you euer know me answere your wishes.

Gree.

You are honest, very vertuously honest.

Mi. May.

I wil then no longer be a loose woman, I haue at my husbands pleasure tane vpon me this habit of iealousie: Ime sorry for you, vertue glories not in the spoyle but in the victory.

Be.

How say you by that goody Sentence, looke you sir; you gal­lāts visit cittizēs houses, as the Spaniard first sailed to the Indies, you pretēd bying of wares or selling of lāds: but the end proues tis nothing but for discouery & cōquest of their wiues for better maintenance why looke you, was he a ware of those broken pa­tience when you met him at Ware, & possest him of the downfal of his wife: you are a Cockcold you haue pāderd your own wife to this gentleman better men haue don it, honest Tom ( ), wee haue presidents for't, hie you to London: what is more Catholick ith Citty then for husbands daily for to forgiue, the nightly sins of their bedfellowes: if you like not that course but to intend to be rid of her: rifle her at a Tauerne, where you may swallow [Page] downe some fifty wisacres sonnes and heires to old tenements, and common gardens: like so many raw yeolkes with Muska­dine to bed-ward.

Kat.

O filthy knaue, dost compare a woman of my cariadge to a horse.

Bel.

And no disparagment; for a woman to haue a high for­head: a quick eare, a full eye, a wide nostrell, a sleeke skin, a straight back, a round hip, and so forth is most comely.

Kat.

But is a great belly comly in a horse sir.

Bel.

No Lady.

Kat.

And what thinke you of it in a woman I pray you.

Bel.

Certainly, I am put downe at my owne weapon; I there­fore recant the riflying? no there is a new trade come vp for cast Gentlewemen, of peeriwip making: let your wife set vp ith Strand, and yet I doubt, whither she may or no, for they say, the womē haue got it to be a corporatiō; if you can you may make good vse of it, for you shall haue as good a comming in by haire (tho it be but a falling commodity) & by other foolish tyring, as any betweene Saint Clements and Charing.

Feth.

Now you haue run your selfe out of breath, here me: I protest the gentlewoman is honest, and since I haue wrong'd her reputation in meeting her thus priuately, Ile maintaine her: wilt thou hang at my purse Kate, like a paire of barbary but­tons, to open when tis full, and close when tis empty?

Kat.

Ile be diuorc'd by this Christian element, and because thou thinkst thou art a Cockold, least I should make thee an in­fidell, in causing thee to beleeue an vntrueth, Ile make thee a Cockold.

Bel.

Excellent wench.

Feth.

Come, lets go sweete: the Nag I ride vpon beares dou­ble, weele to London.

May.

Do not bite your thumbes sir.

Kate.
Bite his thumbe!
Ile make him do a thing worse than this,
Come loue me where as I lay.
Feth.

What Kate!

Kate.
He shall father a child is none of his,
O the cleane contrary way.
Feth.

O lusty Rate.

Exeunt.
May.
[Page]

Me thought he sayd, euen now you were a Taylor.

Gre.

You shall heare more of that hereafter, Ile make Ware and him stinck ere he goes, if I bee a Taylor, the roagues naked weapon shall not fright me, Ile beate him and my wife both out ath Towne with a Taylors yard.

Exit.
May.

O Valiant sir Tr [...]stram; roome there.

Enter Philip Leuer-poole and Chartly.
Phil.

Newes father, most strang newes out of the Low-coun­tries, your good Lady and Mistris that set you to worke vpon a dozen of cheese-trenchers is new lighted at the next Inne, and the old venerable Gentlemans father with her.

Bel

Let the gate [...] of our Inne be lockt vp, closer than a No­ble-mans gates at dinner time.

Omn.

Why sir, why?

Bella.

If shee enter here, the house wil be infected: the plague is not halfe so dangerous, as a Shee-hornet: Philip this is your shuffling a the cardes, to turne vp her for the bot­tom carde at Ware.

Phi.

No as Ime vertuous sir, aske the two Gentlemen.

Leuer.

No in troth sir; shee told vs, that inquiring at London for you or your sonne, your man chalkt out her way to Ware.

Bel.

I wud Ware might choake 'em both, Maister Maybery, my horse and I will take our leaues of you? Ile to Bedlam agen rather than stay her.

May.

Shall a woman make thee flie thy country? stay, stand to her tho shee were greater than Pope Ioane, what are thy braines coniuring for, my poeticall bay-leafe-eater?

Bel.

For a sprite a the buttry, that shall make vs all drinck with mirth if I can raize it: stay, the chicken is not fully hatcht, hit I beseech thee: So; come! wil you be secret Gentlemen and assisting.

Omn.

With browne bills if you thinke good.

Bel.

What wil you say, if by some trick we put this little Hor­net into Fetherstones bosome, and marry 'em togither.

Omn.

Fuh, tis impossible.

Bel.

Most possible, Ile to my trencher-woman, let me alone for dealing with her: Fetherstone Gentlemen shalbe your patient.

Omn.

How! how?

Bell.
[Page]

Thus: I will close with this country Pedlar mistrisse Doro­thy (that trauels vp and downe to exchange Pinnes for Cunny-skins) very louingly, she shall eate of nothing but sweet-meates in my company (good words) whose taste when she likes, as I know shee will, then will I play vpon her with this Artillery, that a very proper man, and a great heyre (naming Fetherstone) spyed her from a window, when shee lighted at her Inne, is ex­treamly falne in loue with her, vowes to make her his wife, if it stand to her good liking, euen in Ware; but being (as most of your young Gentlemen are) some-what bashfull, and ashamde to venture vpon a woman.

May.

Citty and suburbes can iustifie it: so sir.

Bel.

Hee sends mee (being an old friend) to vndermine for him: Ile so whet the wenches stomack, and make her so hungry, that she shall haue an appetite to him, feare it not; Greenesheild shall haue a hand in it too, and to bee reuengde of his partner, will I know strike with any weapon.

Leuer.

But is Fetherstone of any meanes? els you vndoe him and her.

May.

Hee has land betweene Foolham and London, he would haue made it ouer to me: to your charge Poet, giue you the as­sault vpon her, and send but Fetherstone to mee, Ile hang him by the gills.

Bell.

Hees not yet horst sure, Phillip, go thy wayes, giue fire to him, and send him hither with a powder presently.

Phil.

Hees blowne vp already.

Exit.
Bel.

Gentlemen youle stick to the deuise, & looke to your plot?

Omnes.

Most Poetically: away to your quarter.

Bel.

I marche, I will cast my rider gallants: I hope you see who shall pay for our voyage.

Exit.
Enter Phillip and Fetherstone.
May.

That must hee that comes here: Maister Fetherstone, O Maister Fetherstone, you may now make your fortunes weigh ten stone of Fethers more then euer they did: leape but into the Saddle now, that stands empty for you, you are made for euer.

Leuer.

An Asse Ile be sworne.

Feth.

How for Gods sake? how?

May.

I would you had, what I could wish you, I loue you, and [Page] because you shall be sure to know where my loue dwels, looke you sir, it hangs out at this signe: you shall pray for Ware, when Ware is dead and rotten: looke you sir, there is as pretty a little Pinnas, struck saile hereby, and come in lately; shee's my kinse-woman, my fathers youngest Sister, a warde, her portion three thousand; her hopes if her Grannam dye without issue, better.

Feth.

Very good sir.

May.

Her Gardian goes about to marry her to a Stone-cut­ter, and rather than sheele be subiect to such a fellow, sheele dye a martyr, will you haue all out? shee's runne away, is here at an Inne ith' towne, what parts so euer you haue plaid with mee, I see good parts in you, and if you now will catch times hayre that's put into your hand, you shall clap her vp presently.

Feth.

Is she young? and a pretty wench?

Leuer.

Few Cittizens wiues are like her.

Phil.

Yong, why I warrant sixteene hath scarce gone ouer her.

Feth.

Sfoot, where is she? if I like her personage, aswell as I like that which you say belongs to her personage, Ile stand thrumming of Caps no longer, but board your Pynnis whilst 'tis hotte.

May.

Away then with these Gentlemen with a French gal­lop, and to her: Phillip here shall runne for a Priest, and dispatch you.

Feth.

Will you gallants goe along: wee may be married in a Chamber for feare of hew and crie after her, and some of the company shall keepe the doore.

May,

Assure your soule shee will be followed: away therefore. Hees in the Curtian gulfe, and swallowed horse and man: hee will haue some body keepe the doore for him, sheele looke to that: I am yonger then I was two nights agoe, for this phisick.— how now?

Enter Captaine. Allom. Hans, and others booted.
Capt,

God plesse you; is there not an arrant scuruy trab in your company, that is a Sentill-woman borne sir, and can tawg Weleh, and Dutch and any tongue in your head?

May.

How so? Drabs in my company: doe I looke like a Drab-driuer?

Capt.
[Page]

The Trab will driue you (if she put you before her) in­to a pench hole.

Allom.

Is not a Gentleman here one Maister Bellamont sir of your company.

May.

Yes, yes, come you from London, heele be here presently.

Capt.

Will he? tawsone, this oman, hunts at his taile like your little Goates in Wales follow their mother, wee haue warrants here from maister Sustice of this shire, to shew no pitty nor mer­cie to her, her name is Doll.

May.

Why sir, what has she committed? I thinke such a crea­ture is ith' towne.

Capt.

What has she committed: ownds shee has committed more th [...]n man-slaughters, for shee has committed her selfe God plesse vs to euerlasting prison: lug you sir, shee is a punke, she shifts her louers (as Captaines and Welsh Gentlemen and such) as she does her Trenchers when she has well fed vpon't, and that there is left nothing but pa [...]e bones, shee calls for a cleane one, and scrapes away the first.

Enter Bellamont, and Hornet, with Doll betweene them Greeneshield, Kate, Mayberies wife, Phillip, Leuerpoole, and Chartley.
May.

Gods so Maister Fetherstone, what will you do? here's three come from London, to fetch away the Gentlewoman with a warrant.

Feth.

All the warrants in Europe shall not fetch her now, she's mine sure enough: what haue you to say to her? shee's my wife.

Cap.

Ow! Sbloud doe you come so farre to fishe and catch Frogs? your wife is a Tilt-boate, any man or oman may goe in her for money; shee's a Cunny-catcher: where is my mooue­ab'e goods cald a Coach▪ and my two wild peasts, pogs on you wud they had trawne you to the gallowes.

Allom.

I must borrow fiftie pound of you Mistris Bride.

Hans.

Yaw vro, and you make me de gheck, de groet foole, you heb mine gelt to: war is it?

Doll.

Out you base scums, come you to disgrace mee in my wedding shooes?

Feth.
[Page]

Is this your three thousand pound ward, yee tolde mee sir she was your Kinswoman.

May.

Right, one of mine Awnts.

Bell.

Who payes for the Northren voyage now lads?

Gree.

Why do you not ride before my Wife to London now? the Woodcocks ith [...] Sprindge.

Kate.

O forgiue me deere husband! I will neuer loue a man that is worse than hangd, as he is.

May.

Now a man may haue a course in your Parke?

Feth.

Hee may sir.

Doll.

Neuer I protest, I will bee as true to thee, as Ware and Wades-mill are one to another.

Feth.

Well, it's but my fate: Gentlemen, this is my opinion, it's better to shoote in a Bow that has beene shot in before, and will neuer start, than to draw a faire new one, that for euery Ar­row will bee warping: Come wench wee are ioynd, and all the Dogs in France shall not part vs: I haue some lands, those Ile turne into money, to pay you, and you, and any: Ile pay all that I can for thee, for Ime sure thou hast paid me.

Omn.

God giue you ioy.

May.

Come lets be merry, lye you with your owne Wife, to be sure shee shall not walke in her sleepe: a noyse of Musitians Chamberlaine.

This night lets banquet freely: come, weele dare,
Our wiues to combate ith' greate bed in Ware
Exeunt.
FINIS.

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