• Changling
  • Tue quoque
  • Simpleton
  • Clause
  • French Dancing Mr[?]
  • Hostes
  • Sr: I. Falstafe

[Page]THE WITS, OR, SPORT upon SPORT. IN Select Pieces of DROLLERY, Digested into SCENES by way of DIALOGUE. Together with Variety of Humors of several Nations, fitted for the plea­sure and content of all Persons, either in Court, City, Countrey, or Camp. The like never before Published.

PART I.

LONDON, Printed for Henry Marsh, at the Sign of the Princes Arms in Chancery-Lane. 1662.

To the READERS

The Stationer sends Greeting:

WHereas I have undertaken to col­lect a Miscellany of all Humours which our Fam'd Comedies have exquisitely and aptly represented in the becoming dress of the Stage: Now know ye that I think fit in compliance with the Design to usher in this Body of Humours with a Preface, for no other reason, nor to other purpose, then to humour and imitate the Mode of Writers; letting you see the folly and imperti­nence of Epistolary Personations (never acted be­fore) which shew their Books are chiefly writ­ten for their own sakes, and to adorn our Stalls.

Now I must tell you, my Plot with my Hu­mours is clearly for sale; for I intend to raise no other reputation to my self then that of Ready Money; and that I onely be-speak in these pre­paratory lines: since it were besides the pur­pose, and an unpardonable presumption, to com­mend these excellent Fancies, which do command, and have Emerited universal applause.

All I am obliged to say therefore, is in justi­fication [Page] of the Collection of them into this en­tire consistencie, the making of a fluid a solid Body, which even the Experiment it self, among the In­genious, will fairly defend. But I should think the easie accommodation of them to every Gusto of Delight in this ready variety (saving the difficulty of purveying and hacking up and down) should best invite and entertain you.

He that knows a Play, knows that Humours have no such fixedness and indissoluble connexion to the Design, but that without injury or forcible revulsion they may be removed to an advantage; which is so demonstrable, that I am sure nothing but a morose propriety will offer to deny it.

To be a little serious: I was told by people that know better then my self, they would be in this Model more beneficial in sundry respects, then as they lay dispersed before. There is no sort of Melancholy whose sullen dulness and severe aversion to company, may not at one look be mockt out by one or other of these merry attempe­ratures and resemblances, which will most effica­ciously manifest its Folly as in a Glass. Next, he who would make up a Treatment to his Friends by any such diversion, cannot study a more com­pendious method, without the help of Fidlers and mercenary Mimicks, and the long labor of a Cue: one Scene, which may almost be acted Extempore, will be abundantly satisfactory, being chosen fit and suitable to the Company, as none can come amiss. 'Twill make Physick work, 'twill cease [Page] the pains of more inveterate diseases, 'twill allay the heat and distemper of Wine, and generally it is the Panacea, the universal Cure, mighty Mirths Elixir.

Now you know all the Story, Gentlemen; pray remember the Rump Drolls, and for their sakes,

Your old Servant H. MARSH.

I am loth to confess there are any Errours in the Book; but if you find any, and they be not rude ones, pray use your Civility, and pass them over.

A Catalogue of the several Droll-Humours, from what Plays collected, and in what page to be found in this Book.

  • Droll. 1. The Bouncing Knight out of Edw. IV. pag. 1.
  • Droll. 2. Ienkins Love-Course, out of the School of Com­plements. p. 13.
  • Droll. 3. The false Heir, out of the Scornful Lady. p. 19.
  • Droll. 4. Lame Common-wealth, out of the Beg. Bush. p. 28.
  • Droll. 5. Sexton, or the Mock-Testator, out of the Spanish Curate. p. 34.
  • Droll. 6. A Prince in conceit, out of the Opportunity. p. 39.
  • Droll. 7. An equal Match, out of Rule a wife and have a wife. p. 45.
  • Droll. 8. The Stallion, out of the Custom of the Country. p. 50
  • Droll. 9. The Grave-makers, out of Hamlet P. of Denm. p. 56
  • Droll. 10. Loyal Citizens, out of Philaster. p. 62.
  • Droll. 11. Invisible Smirk, out of the Milk-maids. p. 65.
  • Droll. 12. The three Merry Boys, out of Rollo D. of Normandy. p. 73.
  • Droll. 13. The Bubble, out of Tu quoque. p. 78.
  • Droll. 14. Club-men, out of Cupids Revenge. p. 83.
  • Droll. 15. Forc'd Valour, out of King and no King. p. 87.
  • Droll. 16. Encounter, out of the Humorous Lieuten. p. 93.
  • Droll. 17. Simpleton the Smith. p. 98.
  • Droll. 18. Bumpkin. p. 108.
  • Droll. 19. Simpkin. p. 112.
  • Droll. 20. Hobbinal. p. 118.
  • Droll. 21. Swabber. p. 121.
  • Droll. 22. Monsieur the French Dancing-Master, out of the Varieties. p. 134.
  • Droll. 23. The Landlady, out of the Chances. p. 140.
  • Droll. 24. The testy Lord, out of the Maids Tragedy. p. 148.
  • Droll. 25. The Imperick, out of the Alchymist. p. 159.
  • Droll. 26. The Surprise out of the Maid in the Mill. p. 167.
  • Droll. 27. The Doctors of Dulhead Colledge, out of Fathers own son. p. 182.

THE BOUNCING KNIGHT, OR, THE ROBERS ROB'D.

ARGUMENT.

A company of mad fellowes resolve to take a Purse, and to that purpose seperate themselves, 4. in one company, 2. in the other, the four Rob and tame true Men, the two Rob those four again. And then all meeting, the 4. exclame against the ab­sent two; and other Scenes of mirth follow.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Prince,
  • Hal,
  • Knight,
  • Iack,
  • Poines,
  • Peto,
  • Roff,
  • Hostesse,
  • Drawer.
Enter Several.
HAL.

How now Iack, where hast thou been?

Iack.

A plague of all Cowards I say and a vengeance too, marry and amen; give me a Cup of Sack Boy, no virtue extant, you Rogue; there's lime in this Sack too, there is nothing but Roguery to be found in villanous Man, yet a Coward is worse then a Cup of Sack with lime in it, a villanous Coward, go thy [Page 2] wayes old Iack, dye when thou wilt: if Man-hood, good Man-hood, be not forgot upon the face of the Earth, then am I a shotten hearing: there lives not three good men unhang'd in England, and one of them is fat and growes old: a bad World I say, and a plague of all Cowards I say still.

Hal.

How now wool-sack, what mutter you?

Iack.

A Kings Son? If I do not beat thee out of thy Kingdome with a Dagger of lath, and drive all thy sub­jects afore thee like a stock of wild-Geese, I'le never weare haire on my face more, you Prince of Wales?

Hal.

Why you horson round man what's the matter?

Iack.

Are you not a Coward? answer me to that, and Poines there.

Hal.

Why ye fat paunch, and ye call me, Coward by this light, I'le stab thee.

Iack.

I call thee Coward? I'le see thee damn'd e're I call thee Coward; but I would give a thousand pound I could run as fast as thou canst. You are straight enough in the shoulders, you care not who sees your back: call you that backing of your friends? a plague upon such backing: give me them that will face me, give me a cup of Sack, I am a Rogue if I drank to day.

Prince.

Oh villaine, thy lips are scarce wip'd since thou drink'st last.

Iack.

All's one for that, a plague of all cowards still say I.

Prince.

What's the matter?

Iack.

What's the matter? here be four of us have ta'ne a thousand pound this morning.

Prince.

Where is it, I aske where is it.

Iack.

Where is it? taken from us it is; a hundred up­on poor four of us.

Prince.

What a hundred man?

Iack.
[Page 3]

I am a Rogue if I were not at halfe Sword with a dozen of them two houres together; I have scaped by miracle; I am eight times thrust through the doublet, four through the hose, my Buckler cut through and through, my sword hackt like a hansaw, ecce signum, I never dealt better since I was a man, all would not do, a plague of all Cowards, let them speak, if they speak more or less then truth, they are villains, and the sons of darkness.

Poines.

Speak Sirs, how was it.

Roff.

We four set upon a douzen.

Iack.

Sixteen at least my Lord.

Roff.

And bound them.

Peto.

No, no, they were not bound.

Iack.

You rogue they were bound, every man of them, or I am a Iew else, an Hebrew Iew.

Roff.

And as we were sharing, some six or seven fresh men set upon us.

Iack.

And unbound the rest, & then came in the others.

Prince.

What fought ye with them all?

Iack.

All? I know not what you call all: but if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch of raddish: if there were not two or three & fifty upon poor old Iack, then I am no two-leg'd Creature.

Prince.

Pray God you have not murther'd some of them.

Iack.

Nay that's past praying for, I have pepper'd two of them; two Rogues in buckrom suites: I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lye spit in my face, call me horse, thou knowst my old ward, here I lay, and thus I bore my point, four Rogues in buckrom let drive at me.

Prince.

What four? thou saids but two even now.

Iack.

Four Hal, I told thee four.

Poines.

I, I, he said four.

Iack.

These four came all afront, and mainly thrust at me; I made no more a doe but took all their seven points in my Target, thus.—

Prince.
[Page 4]

Seven? VVhy there were but four even now▪

Iack.

In Buckrum Hal, in Buckrum.

Poines.

I four in Buckrum suits.

Iack.

Seven by these Hilts, or I am a villain else.

Prince.

Prithe let him alone, we shall have more anon▪

Iack.

Dost thou hear me.

Hal.

I, and mark thee too Iack.

Iack.

Do so for 'tis worth the listning to. These nine in Buckrum that I told thee off.

Prince.

So, two more already.

Iack.

Their points being broken.

Poynes.

Down fell his Hose.

Iack

Began to give me ground, but I followed me clo­se, came in foot and hand; and with a thought seven of the eleven I paid.

Prince.

O Monstrous! eleven Buckrum men grown out of two.

Iack.

But as the divell would have it, three mis-begot­ten knaves, in Kendal green, came at my back and let drive at me, for it was so darke Hal that thou couldst not see thy hand.

Prince.

These lyes are like the father that begets, grosse as a Mountain, open, palpable, why thou clay-brain'd guts thou knotty pated fool, thou horson obscent greasy tallow catch.

Iack.

VVhat? art thou mad? art thou mad? is not the truth, the truth?

Prince.

VVhy how couldst thou know these men in Kendall green, when it was so dark thou could'st not see thy hand? what saidst thou to this?

Poines.

Come, your reason Iack, your reason.

Iack.

VVhat upon compulsion? and I were at the strappado, or all the racks in the VVorld, I would not tell you on compulsion. Give you a reason on compulsion? were reasons as plenty as Blackberries, I would give no Man a reason upon compulsion, I.

Prince.
[Page 5]

I'le be no longer guilty of this sin, this sanguine Coward, this Bed-presser, this horseback breaker, this huge [...]ill of flesh.

Iack.

You starvling, you Elf-skin, you dryed Neats tongue, Bulls pizle, you stock fish: O for breath to utter what is like thee? you Taylors yard, you sheath, you Bow-case, you vile standing Turke.

Prince.

Hear me sirrah bumbast—

Poynes.

Mark Iack.

Prince.

We two saw you four set upon four, bound them, and were Masters of their wealth, then did we two set on you four, and with a word out-fac'd you from the prize; what starting hole canst thou now find out to hid thee from this open and apparent shame?

Poynes.

Come lets hear Iack, what trick hast thou now?

Iack.

By the Lord I knew ye as well as he that made ye, why hear you Masters, was it for me to kill the heire ap­parant? should I turn up in the true Prince? why thou know'st I am as valiant as Hercules: but beware instinct, the Lyon will not touch the true Prince. Instinct is a great matter, I was a Coward on instinct; I shall think the better of my selfe, and thee during my life; I for a valiant Lyon, and thou for a true Prince: but by the Lord Lads, I am glad you have the money, Hostesse clap to the doores, watch to night, pray tomorrow, what hearts of Gold shall we be merry? shall we have a Play ex tempore.

Prince.

Content and the argument shall be thy runing away.

Iack.

O no more of that Hal if thou lovest me.

Prince.

How longi'st ago Iack since thou saw'st thine own knee.

Iack.

My own knee? when I was about thy yeares (Hal) I was not an Eagles tallant in the VVast: I could have crept into any Aldermans Thumb-Ring, a plague of sighing and grief, it blowes a man up like a Bladder; but to [Page 6] he Play Hal.

Prince.

I have a mind Iack that thou shouldst stand for my father, and examine me upon the perticulars of my life.

Iack.

Content: this Chaire shall be my State, this dag­ger my Scepter, and this Cushion my Crown. Well if the fire of grace be not quite out of thee, now shalt thou be moved, give me a cup of Sack to make mine eyes look red, that it may be thought I have wept: For I must speak in passion, and I will do it in King Cambysis veyne.

Prince.

Well, here is my Leg.

Iack.

And here is my speech: stand aside Nobility.

Hostesse.

O the Father, how he holds his countenance, he doth it as like one of these harlotry players as ever Isee.

Iack.

Peace good pint Pot, peace good tickle branes. Harry I do not only marvel where thou spendest thy time, but also how thou art accompanyed, thou art my Son, I have partly thy Mothers word, partly my opinion, but chiefely a villanous trick of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy neither lip that doth warrant me. There is a thing Harry which thou hast often heard off, and known to many, in our Land, by the name of Pitch; this Pitch (as ancient writers report) doth defile, so doth the company thou keepest, yet there is one vertuous Man whom I have noted in thy company, but I know not his name.

Prince.

What manner of Man, and it like your Majesty:

Iack.

A good portly man y'faith, and a corpulent, of a cheerfull look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage, and as I think his age some fifty, or bir Lady, inclining to threescore, and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff: if that man be lewdly given he deceives me, for Harry I see vertue in his lookes; If then the tree may be known by the fruit, as the fruit by the tree, then peremptorily I speak it, there is vertue in that Falstaff, and now thou noughty varlet, tell me where hast thou been this moneth?

Prince.
[Page 7]

Dost thou speak like a King? do thou stand for me, and I'le play my father.

Iack.

If thou dost it so Majestically, ha [...]g me up by the heels for a Rabbet-sucker or a Poulters Hare.

Prince.

Well here I am set.

Iack.

And here I stand judge my Masters.

Prince.

Now Harry whence come you?

Iack.

My noble Lord from Eastcheap.

Prince.

The complaints I hear of thee are grievous.

Iack.

Zlud my Lord they are false: nay I'le tickle you for a young Prince.

Prince.

Swear'st thou, ungracious Boy? henceforth n'ere look on me, thou art violently carryed away from grace; there is a divell haunts thee in the likeness of a fat old man, a Tun of man, is thy companion, why dost thou converse with that trunck of humors, that boulting-Butch of beastliness? that swolne parcell of dropsies, that huge bombard of Sack, that stuff cloak bag of guts, that roasted manning-tree Oxe, with the pudding in his belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, wherein is he good but to tast Sack, and drink it? wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a Capon and eat it? wherein cunning but in craft? wherein crafty but in villany? wherein vallan [...]us but in all things? wherein Worthy but in nothing?

Iack.

I would your grace would take me with you: who meanes your grace?

Prince.

That villanous abominable misleader of youth, Falstaff, that old white bearded satan.

Iack.

My Lord the man I know.

Prince.

I know thou dost.

Iack.

But to say I know more harme in him then in my selfe, were to say more then I know; that he is old, (the more the pitty;) his white haires do witness it: but that he is (saving your reverence) a whoremaster, that I utter [Page 8] ly deny; if Sack and Sugar be a fault, Heaven help the wicked: if to be old and merry be a sin, then many an old Host that I know is damn'd; if to be fat, be to be hated, then Pharaoh's lean Kine are to be belov'd my good Lord: Banish Peto, banish Bardol, banish Poynes; but for sweet Iack Falstaff, kind Iack Falstaff, true Iack Falstaff, valiant Iack Falstaff; and therefore more valiant, being as he is old Iack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's company; banish plump Iack, and banish all the World.

Prince.

I do. I will.

Enter Bardol.
Bardol.

Oh my Lord the Sheriffe with a monstrous watch is at the door.

Iack.

Out you Rogue, play out the play, I have much to say in the behalfe of that Falstaff.

Exeunt.
Enter Iack and Bardol.
Iack.

Am I not falne away vilely, do I not bate? do I not diminish? my skin hangs about me like an old Ladies loose Gown, I am withered like an old apple Iohn: well I'le repent, and that suddainly I shall be out of heart shortly and then I shall have no strength to repent, and I ha'not forgotten what the inside of a Church is made of, I am a pepper-corn, villanous company hath been the spoile of me.

Bardol.

Sir Iohn you are so fretfull you cannot live long.

Iack.

Why there's it, come sing me a bawdy song, make me merry, well I have been as vertuously given as a Gentleman need to be, lived well and in good compasse, and now I live out of all order, out of all compasse.

Bardol.

VVhy you are so fat Sir Iohn, that you must needes be out of all compasse, all reasonable compasse Sir Iohn.

Iack.

O mend thou thy face, and I'le mend my life: thou art our Admiral, thou bearest the Lanthorn in the poop, but 'tis in the Nose of thee, thou art the King of the bur­ning Lamp, when thou run'st up Gads Hill in the night to catch my Horse if I did not think thou hadst been an Ignis [Page 9] fatuus or a ball of wild-fire, there's no purchase in money, O thou art a perpetual triumph, an everlasting Bon-fire, by night.

Bardol.

I would my face were in your belly.

Iack.

God a mercy, so I should be heart-burnt. Now dame partlet the Hen, have you enquir'd yet who pickt my pocket.

Enter Hostesse.
Hostesse.

Why, Sir Iohn do you think I keep theeves in my House Sir Iohn.

Iack.

I'le besworne my pocket was pickt; go, you are a woman, go.

Hostesse.

VVho I? I defie thee: 'ods light I never was call'd so in my own House before, you owe me money Sir Iohn, I bought you a douzen shirts to your back.

Iack.

Dowlis, filthy Dowlis, I have given them away to Bakers VVives, they have made boulters of them; I say my pocket was pickt, I have lost a Seal-Ring of my Grand­fathers worth fourty markes.

Hostesse.

Oh Lord I have heard the Prince tell him I know how oft that Ring was Copper.

Iack.

The Prince is a Iack, a sneak-cap, and he were here I would cudgel him like a dog, if he would say so.

Enter Prince.
Hostesse.

Good my Lord hear me.

Iack.

Prithee let her alone and list to me, this house is turn'd bawdy house, my pocket has been pickt here.

Prince.

And what didst thou lose Iack?

Iack.

If thou wilt believe me Hal, three or four Bonds of fourty pounds a peece, and a Seal-Ring of my Grand­fathers.

Prince.

A trifle, some eight penny matter.

Hostesse.

I told him you said so, and he said he would cudgel you.

Prince.

VVhat a' did not.

Hostesse.

As I am a true woman he did.

Iack.
[Page 10]

Go you thing, go.

Hostesse.

Say, what thing, what thing?

Iack.

Why, a thing to thank God on.

Hostesse.

I am nothing to thank God on, I would thou shouldst know it.

Prince.

Thou slander est her most grosely.

Hostesse.

So he doth you my Lord, he said the other day you ought him a thousand pound.

Prince.

Sirrah do I owe you a thousand pound?

Iack.

A thousand pound Hal? a million: thy love is worth a million: thou ow'st me thy love.

Hostesse.

Nay, my Lord he cal'd you Iack, and said he would cudgell you.

Iack.

Did I Bardol?

Bardol.

Indeed Sir Iohn, you said so.

Iack.

Yea if he said my Ring was Copper.

Prince.

I say 'tis Copper: dar'st thou be as good as thy word now?

Iack.

Why Hal? thou know'st, as thou art but a man I dare: but as thou art Prince I fear thee as I fear the roaring of the Lyons Whelp.

Prince.

And why not as the Lyon?

Iack.

The King himselfe is to be feared as the Lyon: dost thou think I'le fear thee, as I fear thy Father? nay, and I do, I pray my Girdle may break.

Prince.

If it should, how would thy Guts fall about thy knees.

Exeunt.
Enter Iack as to the Wars.
Iack.

Well I have misus'd the Kings press damnably, I have got in exchang of 150. Souldiers 300. And od pound, I press none but warm slaves that had as lieve heare the di­vell as a Drum, with hearts in their bellies no bigger then pins heads, and they have bought out their servi­ces, and now my whole charge consists of Ancients, Corporals, and the like: A mad fellow met me [Page 11] on the way, and told me I had unloaded all the Gibbets, & prest the dead bodies, there's not a shirt and an halfe in all my company, and the halfe shirt is two napkins tuckt to­gether, and thrown over the shoulders like a Heralds coat without sleeves; and the shirt, to speak truth on't, is stolne from my hoast at St. Albanes, but that's all one, they▪l find linnen enough on every hedge.

Enter Prince.
Prince.

How now Q [...]ilt? tell me whose fellowes are these that come after?

Iack.

Mine Hal, mine.

Prince.

I did never see such pittyfull Rascals.

Iack.

Tut, tut, good enough to toss; food for powder, food for powder, they'l fill a pit as well as better: mor­tall men; mortall men, but I would all were well Hal.

Prince.

Why, thou ow'st a death.

Iack.

'Tis not due yet, and I would be loath to pay before the day, what need I be so forward till I am cal'd upon, well 'tis no matter, Honour prickes me on, yea but how if Honour prickes me off when I come on? how then? can Honour set to a leg? or an arme? no: or take away the griefe of a wound? no: Honour hath no skill in sur­gery then? no: what is Honour? a word: what is that word? Ayre: a trym reckoning: who hath it? he that dyed a wednesday: doth he feel it? no: doth he hear it? No: 'tis insensible then? yea to the dead: but will it not live with the living? No: why? detraction will not suffer it: therefore I'le have none of it, Honour is a meere scutchion, and so ends my Catechisme.

Exit.
Iack in fight falls down as he were dead, the Prince espying him on the ground, speaks.
Prince.

What old acquaintance, could not all this flesh keep in a little life? poor Iack farewell; imbowel'd will I see thee by and by, till then, in blood by noble Percy lye.

Exit.
Iack.

Imbowel'd? if thou imbowell me to day, I'le [Page 12] give you leave to powder me, and eat me to morrow, Z'Bloud 'twas time to counterfeit, or the Termagant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. Counterfeit? I am no counterfeit: to die is to be a counterfeit, for he is but the counterfeit of a man, who hath not the life of a man; but to counterfeit dying when a man thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the true and perfect image of life indeed, the better part of valour is destruction; in the which better part I have saved my life.—I am afraid of this Gunpowder Percy, though he be dead; how if he should counterfeit too, and rise? by my faith I am afraid he would prove the better counterfeit: therefore I'le make him sure; yea and I'le swear I slew him, why may not he rise as well as I? nothing confutes me but eyes, and no body sees me! therefore sirrah with a new wound in your thigh, come you a long with me.

Ent. Pr. again.
Prince.

What's here? art thou alive? thou art not what thou seem'st sure.

Iack.

No, that's certain, I am not a double man: but if I be not Jack Falstaffe, then I am a Jack: there is Percy, if your Father will do me any Honour, So: if not, let him slay the next Percy himselfe: I look to be either Earle or Duke, I can assure you.

Prince.

Why, Percy I slew my selfe, and saw thee dead.

Jack.

Didst thou? Lord, Lord, how the World is given to lying! I grant you I was down, & out of breath, and so was he, but wee rose at an instant, and fought a long houre by Shrews busy Clock, if I may be beleeved, So: if not, let them that should reward valour, bear the sin upon their own heads, I'le take it upon my death I gave him this wound in the thigh, if the man were alive and would deny it i'de make him eat a peice of my sword.

Prince.

Come bring your luggage nobly on your back, for my part, if a lye will do thee grace, I'le guild it with the happiest termes I have.

Jack.
[Page 13]

I'le follow, as they say, for a reward: He that rewards me, God reward him, if I do grow great, I'le grow less: for I'le purge and leave Sack, and live cleanly, as a Noble man should do.

Exit.

JENKINS Love-course, and Perambulation.

ARGUMENT.

He finds his defect in Courtship, goes to Schoole to learn it, where he meets with some affronts; Then he wanders to the Woods to seek his Mistress, and is encountred by an Eccho, &c.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Ienkins,
  • Iocarello,
  • Page,
  • Mistress,
  • Infortunio,
  • Gaspero,
  • Eccho,
  • Bubulons,
  • Antonio.
Enter Ienkins, Page, and Mistress.
Ienk.

LOok you Pages where our sweet Heart and pigs-mies be; Sentlewoman if her know not her name, was Ienkin born in Wales, came of Pighouse, and pritish bloods, was have great hils and Mountaines awle her owns, when was get um again, any was her Confins and her Country-man was never conquer'd, but alwayes have the victories pravely, have her armes and scushrins, to know that say you, was give in her crests great deale of monsters and Dragons, kill 'um with their hookes very valiantly, as any Sentleman in the whole World: was please you place her affections and good wils upon her in ways of make mony, mark you; teal plainly, Ienkin was love her very honestly, else pox upon her, and her will fight in her cause and quarrels long as have any plood in bellies and backs too, marke you▪ Pray you was her love Ienkin.

Mistress.
[Page 14]

In what I may serve you, you shall command me Sir.

Ienkin.

Shall her? was make her meanes & satisfactions warrant her, or say Senkin was no Sentleman of Wales, say you Pages was have her matrimonies and wedlocks very fast, and when was get her awle her, her cousins was make joys & gratulations, for her good fortunes upon her Welsh Harpes, knaw you dat very well Pages? her fear, her shall be Knighted one dayes, and have great cumulations of Uships, Honours and dignities too, agreat while ago.

Iork.

And great Castles i'th Ayre.

Ienkin.

Was give awle our Lands and craggy Tene­ments in Wales away to our Cousin ap Shon, and live her selfe here upon very good fashions with our monies and mighty riches, when her can get 'um.

To him Infortunio.
Infortunio.

Whether so fast; thou must get to hell by night, and thou goest but Aldermans pace.

Ienkin.

By cots plood her will go to the devill and her list, what is that to her?

Infortunio.

Your name is Mr. Ienkin.

Ienkin.

And what have her to say to Mr. Shenkin, Shenkin was as good names as her own, pray you, was good Shentleman as her selfe, know very well, say you now?

Infortunio.

God boy, Sir:

Ienkin.

Poyes, does her call her boyes? hark you? her name is Shenkin, her be no poyes no shildren, was knock as tall a man as herselfe, an her Welsh plood be up, look you.

Infortunio.

'Tis impossible.

Ienkin.

Piple papels, 'tis very possible.

Infortunio.

An hunger starv'd Rascall.

Ienkin.

Rascals? she shu? was never such names and appellations put upon her awle her days, begar her will make you eat up all her urds and ignominies, and her [Page 15] plade shall make holes in her pellies diggon.

Inf.

I could curse.

Ien.

Her can curse & swear too look you now.

Infortunio.

Pardon divinest Creature I submit.

Ienkin.

Nay and her crave pardons and make sub­missions, Shenkin was put up awle her anger and indigna­tions farewell.

Exit.
Ienkin from his study.
Ienkin.

Ienkin has risen very early this mornings and been in studies and contemplations to make dities and ferces upon her Mistress. Beauties and pulchritudes, but the tevill sure is in these Poetries, Pages have her seeme treames and apparitions? harke you, Was Selina turn'd sheaphear­dess, pray you?

To him his Page, the Lady coming by.
Page.

We dream els Sir, the case is altered.

Ienkin.

What a tevill is in the matters and businesses pray you? cases! never was knawn such cases and altera­tions in awle her life, womans never weare preeches in Wales, 'tis not possible we are awle in treames and visions, very treames and visions.

Exeunt.
Ienkin as at the Schoole.
Ienkin.

Bless you Shentlemen awle, and your studies and contemplations: is here a Schoole of complements pray you.

Gaspero.

A place of generous Breeding.

Ienkin.

Shenerous preeding, harke you her name was Ienkin, a good Shentleman 'tis knawn, he take no plea­sures and delectations in urds, Welshmen have awle hearts and fidelities marke you, yet if your Urships has any ma­drigals look you, for in truth was going now to the voods and forests, her will give you good payments of awle your inventions and muses pray you, here is monies and consi­derations look you.

Infortunio.

Hey? how came you all thus damn'd?

Ienkin.
[Page 16]

Damn'd, whose damn'd? is Shinkin damn'd?

Gaspero.

Humor him a little.

Ienkin.

Will you have her be damn'd? when hear you pray a Welshman was damn'd? of all things in the Urld her cannot abid to be damn'd.

Infortunio.

What are you.

Ienkin.

Her have no mind at all to be damn'd, be gar her will fight with her, and kill awle the devills in hell: diggon.

Gaspero.

Sir 'tis but in jest.

Ienkin.

In jests, is it in jests? well, look you her will be content to be damn'd in jests and merriments for you.

Infortunio.

You will tell me what you are damn'd for?

Ienkin.

And her be so hot, was get some body else to be damn'd for Ienkin: her will tell her in patiences, look you, her was damn'd for her valour, and riding the Urld of monsters, look you Dragons with seven heads, and serpents with tailes a mile long pray you.

Infortunio.

Oh! let me hug thee Owen Glendower.

Ienkin.

Owen Glendower was her Cousin pray, so fare­well Shentlemen, now her mean to make travails and peregrinations to the voes and plaines, look you very fast.

Exit.
Ienkin in the Woods.
Ienkin.

Has almost lost her selfe in these vods and Wil­dernesses, was very weary of these journeys and travels in foot-backs: have not since her coming beheld any my reasonable creatures: bless us awle, Iocarello is lost too, cannot tell where, in these mazes and labourinths:

Iocarello.

So ho.

Eccho.

So ho.

Jenkin

Ha, there's some podies yet, harke you t'ere, here is a Shentleman of Wales, look you, desires very much to have speeches and confabulations with you: where is her:

Eccho:

here is her.

Jenkin.

Here is her? knaw not which wayes to come to her: pray you tell Jenkin where you be?

Eccho.

Boobie.

Jenkin.
[Page 17]

Poobies was her call her poobies? tis very saw [...]y travels, her will teach her better manners, and moralities; mark you now, if her get her in reaches and circumferences of her Welsh plaids, truely.

Eccho.

You lye.

Ienkin.

How lyes, and poobies too? hark you, Jenkin was give you mawles and knocks for your poobies, and lies, and indignities, look for your pates now.

Exit with his Sword drawn.
Enter again

Here is no poodies but Bushes and Bryers, look you awle is very quiet: so ho, ho.

Eccho.

So ho, ho.

Jenkin.

Her am very much deceived, now it comes in­to our mindes, if these voices be not Ecchos,

Eccho.

Ec­cho.

Jenkin.

'Tis very true, but her marvell much, have her Ecchos in these Countries, pray you?

Eccho.

Yes pray you.

Jenkin.

Warrant her 'tis a Welsh Eccho was follow Jenkin in love out of Wales.

Eccho.

Out of Wales.

Jenkin.

'Tis very true, bless us awle now, her to remembrances and memories, her had communications and talkings with this very Eccho in Glamorgan-Shire, in de Vallies a [...]d Talles there look you, her am very glad her hath met with Ecchos was born in her own Countries, harke you, Jenkin was travell hither out of loves and affections to Selina.

Eccho.

Nay.

Jenkin.

Nay, Yes very true, pray you tell her, be Selina in these Woods, or no?

Eccho.

No.

Jenkin.

No, where is her then? have her taken awle these labours and ambulations in vanities? say you, shall Jenkin then go back as he came?

Eccho.

As he came,

Jenkin.

Gon? it is not possible, hit may be Selina was turn'd spirits and be invissible ra­ther, she is not gon verily.

Eccho.

There you lye.

Jenkin.

Lye, very well, you have priviledges to give lies and awle things in the Urld, but her will not leave these Vods for awle dat; her will be pilgrims awle tayes [Page 18] of her lifes er'e her go without her.

Eccho.

Go without her.

Jenkin.

How, not love Jenkin? then there is a tevill in awle female sexes: know very well she promise loves and good wills in times, great while ago, pray you now, her will talke no longer with you, pray you if you meet her Pages, bid her make hasts and expeditions after her, fare you wel.

Eccho.

Fare you well.

Exit.
Jenkin and Jocarello.
Jocarello.

So ho, ho, master Jenkin.

Jenkin.

It is our Pages agen. Jocarello where have you been? you are very tilligent poyes to loose your master thus.

Jocarello.

I was lost my self.

Jenkin.

Ha pages, here is Selina, awle was very true as our Country-woman Ecchos was make reports. Mrs. Selina call you to memories your promised loves to Jenkin in matrimonies creat while ago.

Antonio.

I am married to Ruffaldo.

Jenkin.

Hit is not possible, Jenkin was never awle her dayes have such in­juries and contumelies have her made repetitions and Genealogies of her plood for no Matrimonies: hum, Jenkin could fight with any podies in the whole Urld now, look you Master Blew-potles have you any stomacks or appetites to have any plowes or knocks upon your custard; look you now?

Bubulons.

No good stomack at this time.

Omnes.

Come wee'l all be friends.

Jenkin.

Here is very good honest urds, yes look you Shenkin is in all amities and friendship, but—

Antonio.

Oh, no more shooting at that But.

Exeunt.

The false Heire, and formal Curate.

ARGUMENT.

The younger Brother conceiving himselfe intituled to his elder Brothers estate, sells it, the Curate a long lover of a La­dies worne out Gentlewoman claps up a match with her.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Younger Brother,
  • Captain,
  • Poet,
  • Steward,
  • Usurer,
  • Wid­dow, and
  • Comrades, &c.
  • Curate and his Mistress, &c.
Captain.

SAve thy brave shoulder, my young puissant Knight, and may thy Backsword bite Them to the bone, that love thee not, thou art an errant Man, go on, the circum­cis'd shall fall by thee. Let land and labour fill the Man that tills, thy Sword must be thy Plow, and Iove it speed, Mecha shall sweat, and Mahomet shall fall, and thy deare name fill up his Monument.

Young Loveless.

It shall Captain, I mean to be a worthy.

Captain.

One worthy is too little, thou shalt be all.

Morecraft.

Captain I shall deserve some of your love too.

Captain.

Thou shalt have heart and hand too, noble Morecraft, if thou wilt lend me Money, I am a man of Garrison, be rul'd, and open to me those infernal gates, whence none of thy evil Angels passe again, and I will stile thee noble, nay Don Diego I'le woo thy Infaunta for thee, and my Knight shall feast her with high meates, and make her apt.

Morecraft.

Pardone me Captain, y'are beside my mea­ning.

Young Loveless.

No Mr. Morecraft 'tis the Captains meaning I should prepare her for yee.

Captain.
[Page 20]

Or provoke her. Speak my modern Man, I say provoke her.

Poet.

Captain I say-so too, or stir her to it, so sayes the Criticks.

Young Loveless.

However you expound it, she is welcome, come sit down, some wine here, there is a scurvy banquet, if we had it. All this fair house is yours Sir; Savil?

Savil.

Yes Sir.

Young Loveless.

Are your keyes ready, I must ease your burden.

Savil.

I am ready to be undone Sir when you shall call me to't.

Young Loveless.

Come, come, thou shalt live better.

Savil.

I shall have less to do▪ that's all; there is halfe a dozen of my friends i'th fields Su [...]ning against a bank, with halfe a breech among 'um, I shall be with 'um shortly, the care and continuall vexation of being rich, eat up this ras­kal; what shall become of my poor family, they are no sheep, and they must keep themselves.

Young Loveless.

Drink Mr. Morecraft. Captain, speak loud and drink: Widdow a word.

Captain.

Expound her throughly Knight.

He courts the widdow for himself.

Here God a gold? here's to thy fair Possessi­ons: Be a Baron, and a bold one; leave off your tickling of young heirs like trouts, and let thy Chimnies smoke, feed men O'war, live and be honest, and be saved yet.

Morecraft.

I thank you worthy Captain for your coun­cel, you keep your Chimnies smoking there, your nostrils; and when you can, you feed a man of war, this makes you not a Baron, but a bare one, and how or when you shall be saved, let the Clerk o'th company (you have com­manded) have a just care of.

Poet.

The man is much moved, Be not angry Sir, but as the Poet sings, let your displeasure be a short fury, & go out. You have spoke hom [...] and bitterly to me Sir? Cap­tain [Page 21] take truce, the Mi [...]er is a tart, and a witty whorson.

Captain.

Poet, you fain perdie; the wit of this man lies in his fingers ends, he must tell all; his tongue fils his mouth like a Neats tongue, & only serves to lick his hun­gry chaps after a purchase: his Braines and brimstone are the Devils dyet to a fat Usurers head: to her Knight, to her: clap her aboard, and stow her, where's the brave Steward.

Savil.

Here's you poor friend, and Savil Sir.

Captain.

Away th'art rich in Ornaments of nature, first in thy face, thou hast a serious face; a [...]etting, bar­gaining, and saving face, a rich face, pawn it to the Usurer; a face to kindle the compassion of the most ignorant and frozen Justice.

Savil.

'Tis such I dare not shew it shortly Sir.

Captain.

Be blithe, and bo [...]ny Steward; Mr. Morecraft drink to this Man of reckoning?

Morecraft.

Here's even to him.

Savil.

The divell guid it downward, would there were in't an acre of the great Broomfeild, he bought; to sweep his durty conscience, or to choak you.

Young Loveless.

Do but look on him, there's nothing in that hid-bound Usurer; that man of mat, that al decay'd but Arches: for you to love, unlesse his perisht Lungs, his dry Cough, or his scurvy; this is truth, and he has yet past cure of Physick, spaw, or any dyet, a primitive pox in his bones; and a' my knowledge he has been ten times rowel'd; he had a bastard, his own towardly issue, whipt, and then cropt for washing out the Roses, in three farth­ings to make 'um pence.

Wid.

I do not like these morals▪

Young Loveless.

You must not like him then. By my troth Sir y'are welcom.

Savil.

I dare say he's glad at heart to see you.

To them, El­der Love­less.
Morecraft.

This money must be paid again.

Young Loveless.

No Sir, pray keep the sale, 'twill make good Taylors measures:

Savil.
[Page 22]

I know not where I am, I am so glad; your wor­ship is the welcom'st man alive; upon my knees I bid you welcome home: here have been such a hurry, such a din, such dismall drinking, swearing and whoreing, 'thas almost made me mad: We have lived in a continual Turneball-street; Sir, blest be Heaven, that sent you safe again; now shall I eat, and go to bed again.

Elder Loveless.

What does that fellow tarry for?

Young Loveless.

Sir, to be Landlord of your House and state: I was bold to make a little sale Sir:

Morecraft.

Am I or'e reacht? if there be Law I'le ham­per you.

Elder Loveless.

Prithee be gon, eat redish till you raise your summs again, you are a stale Cozener, leave my house: no more.—

Morecraft.

A pox upon your house. Come Widdow, I shall yet hamper this young Gamster.

Widdow,

Good twelve in the hundred, keep your way I am not for your dyet, marry in your own tribe Jew, and get a Broker.

Exit Morecraft.
Elder Lov.

To you good Mr. Savil, and your office; thus much I have to say, y'are from my Steward become, first your own drunkard, then his Baud: they say you are excel­lent grown in both, & perfect: give me your keys sir Savil. where's the best drink now? where's the soundest Whores? Ye old he Goat, ye dryed ape, ye lame stallion, must you be leading in my House your Whores, like Fairies daun­cing their night rounds, without fear either of King or Constable? Are all my Hangings safe, my sheep unsold yet? I hope my Plate is Currant, I ha'too much on't. What say you to three hundred pounds in drink now?

Savil.

Good Sir for give me, and but hear me speak?

Elder Loveless.

Methinks thou should'st be drunk still, and not speak, 'tis the more pardonable.

Savil.
[Page 23]

I will Sir, if you will have it so.

Elder Lovel.

I thank ye. Yes, 'ene pursue it Sir; de'ye hear? Get you a Whore soon for your recreation: go look out Captain broken-breech your fellow, and quarrel if you dare; I shall deliver these keyes to one shall have more honesty, though not so much fine wit Sir; you may walk and gather cresses Sir, to cool your liver; there's something for you to begin a dyet, you'l have the pox else; speed you well Sir Savil: you may eat at my house to preserve life, but keep no Fornication in the stables.

Exeunt.
Savil.

Now must I hang my selfe, my friends will look for't. Eating and sleeping I do despise you both now; I will run mad first, and if that get not pitty, I'le drown my selfe to a most dismall ditty.

Exit.
Abigal solus for her losse of time.
Abigal.

Alas poor Gentlewoman, to what a misery hath age brought thee: to what a scurvy fortune? Thou that hast been a companion of Noblemen, and at the worst of those times for Gentlemen: now like a broken Serving­man, must beg for favour to those that would have craul'd like pilgrims to thy chamber, but for an apparition of me; you that be coming on, make much of fifteen, and so till five and twenty, use your time with reverence that your profit may arise; it will not tarry with you, Ecce signum: here was a face! but time, that like a surfeit, eates our youth, plague of his Iron teeth, and draw 'um for't, has been a little bolder here the [...] welcome? and now to say the truth, I am fit for no man, old men i'th house of fifty call me Grannam; and when they are drunk, e'ne then, when Ioane and my Lady are all one, not one will do me reason; my little Levite hath forsaken me, his silver sound of Cittern quite abollisht, his dolefull Hymns under my Chamber window, digested into tedious learning; well fool, you leapt a haddock when you left him; he's a clean [Page 24] man, and a good edifier, and twenty nobles in's estate de claro, besides his Pigs in posse, to this good Homili [...] I have been ever stubborn, which God forgive me for, and mend my manners: & love if ever thou hadst care of forty, of such a peece of lapland ground, hear my prayer, and fire his zeal so far forth, that my faults in this renewed impression of my love, may shew corrected to our Gentle Reader.

To her Roger.

See how negligently he passes by me? With what an E­quipage canonicall? As though he had broken the heart of Bellarmine, or added something to the singing brethren. 'Tis scorne, I know it and deserve it.—Master Roger.

Roger.

Faire Gentlewoman, my name is Roger.

Abigal.

Then Gentle Roger.

Roger.

Ungentle Abigal.

Abigal.

Why Mr. Roger, will you set your wit to a weak Womans.

Roger.

You are weak indeed, for so the Poet sings,

Abigal.

I confesse my weakness sweet Sir Roger.

Roger.

Good my Ladies Gentlewoman, or my good Ladies Gentlewoman (this trope is lost to you now) leave your prating, you have a season of your first Mother in you; and surely had the Divell been in love, he had been abused too: go Dalida, you make men fooles and weare fig Breeches.

Abigal.

Well, well, hard hearted man; dilate upon the weak infirmities of Women; these are fit Texts, but once there was a time; would I had never seen those eyes, those eyes, those Orient eyes.

Roger.

I, they were pearles once with you.

Abigal.

Saving your reverence Sir, so they are still.

Roger.

Nay, nay, I do beseech you leave your cogging, what they are, they are, they serve me without spectacles I thank'um.

Abigal.

O will you kill me?

Roger.
[Page 25]

I do not think I can, y'are like a coppy hold with nine lives in't.

Abigal.

You were wont to beare a Christian fear about you; For your own worships sake?

Roger.

I was a Christian fool then: do you remember what a dance you led me? How I grew qualm'd in love, and was a Dunce? Could expound but once a quarter, & then was out too: and then out of the stinking stir you put me in, I prayed for my own Royal issue, you do remember all this?

Abigal.

O be as then you were.

Roger.

I thank you for it, sure I will be wise Abigal; and as the Ethnick Poet sings, I will not loose my Oyle and labour too, y'are for the Worshipfull I take it Abigal.

Abigal.

O take it so, and then I am for you.

Roger.

I like these teares well, and this humbling also; they are symptomes of contrition; if I should fall into my fit again, would you not shake me into a Quotidian Cox­combe; would you not use me scurvily again, and give me Possets with purging comfits in't? I tel thee Gentlewo­man, thou hast been harder to me then a long Pedigree.

Abigal.

Oh Curate cure me; I will love thee better, dearer, longer; I will do any thing, betray the secrets of the whole houshould to thy reformation, my Lady shall look lovingly on thy learning, and when true time shall point thee for a Parson, I will convert thy Eggs to pen­ny Custards, and thy tithe Goose shall grase and multiply.

Roger.

I am molifi'd, as well shall testify this faithfull kiss, and have a great care Mistriss Abigall how you de­press the spirit any more with your rebukes and mocks: for certainly the edge of such a folly cuts its selfe.

Abigal.

O Sir, you have peirst me thorow; here I vow a recantation to those malicious faults I ever did a­gainst you, never more will I despise your learning, ne­ver more pin Cards and Cunny tails upon your Cassock, [Page 26] never again reproach your reverend Night-cap, and call it by the mangy name of murrin, never abuse your rever­end person more, & say you look like one of Baals Priests i'th hangings, never again when you say grace, laugh at you, nor put you out at prayers, never cramp you more, nor when you ride get Soap and Thisles for you, no my Roger, these faults shall be corrected and amended, as by the tenor of my teares appeares.

Roger.

Now cannot I hold if I should be hang'd, I must cry too, come to thine own beloved, and do even what thou wilt with me sweet, sweet Abigal. I am thi [...]e own for ever, here's my hand, when Roger proves a recreant hang him in the Bell-ropes.

Lady,

How now Roger, will no prayers go down with you. Here they are inter­rupted by the Lady, up­on which Roger breaks forth to Abigal.

Roger.

Do but stay a litle, I'le chop up prayers and be with you again.

The Character the Younger Love­less gives of his Comrades to the Widdow.
Widdow.

But how these Sir, should live upon so little as Corn and Water, I am unbeleiving.

Young Loveless.

Why prithe sweet heart, what's your Ale? is not that corne and water, my sweet Widdow.

Widdow.

I but my sweet Knight where's the meat to this, and clothes that they must look for?

Young Loveless.

In this short sentence Ale, is all included; meat, drink, and cloaths; these are no ravening Footmen, no fellows, that at Ordinaries dare eat their eighteen pence thrice out before they rise, and yet go hungry to [Page 27] a play, and crack more nuts then would suffice a dozen Squirils; besides the dinne, which is damnable: These are people of such a clean discretion in their dyet, of such a moderate sustenance, that they sweat, if they but smell hot meat; pottage is poyson, they hate a Kitchin as they hate a Counter, and shew'um but a Feather-bed they sound; Ale is their eating and their drinking surely, which keeps their bodies cleer, and soluble: Bread is a binder, and for that abolisht, 'ene in their Ale, whose lost room fils an Apple, which is more ayr, and of a subtler nature. The rest they take is little, and that little, is little ease, for like strict men of Order, they correct their bodies with a Bench, or a poor stubborn Table; if a Chimny offers it self with some few broken Rushes they are in Down; when they are sick, that's drunk, if they may have fresh straw, else they do despise these Worldly pamperings, for their poor apparell 'tis worne out to the dyet; new they seeke none; and if a man should offer, they are angry; scarce to be reconcil'd again with him: you shall not heare'um ask one cast Doublet once in a year: which is modesty befitting my poor friends: you see their Wardrope, though slender, competent: for shirts I take it, they are things worn out of their remembrance, lowzy they will be when they list, and mangie, which shews a fine variety; and then to cure'um a Tanners Lime-pit which is little charge, to Dogges and these, these two may be cur'd for three pence.

Widdow.

Use your pleasure Sir. Since I know your Diet Gentlemen, I'le take care that meat shall not offend you, you shall have Ale.

Captain.

We ask no more, let it be mighty Lady; and if we perish, then our own sins on us.

The Lame Common-wealth.

ARGUMENT.

A sort of Beggars meet at their Randevouze, and contend a­bout choosing them a King, but are silenced by a Passenger, whose casting voice ends the controversy.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Higgen,
  • Ferret,
  • Prig,
  • Clause,
  • Snap,
  • Ginkes,
  • Iaculine,
  • Goswin a Merchant, and
  • Hubert a Gentleman.
Higgen.

COme Princes of the ragged Regiment, you o'the blood, Prig my most upright Lord, and these (what name or title e're they beare) Iarkman or Patrico, Cranke, or Clapperdudgeon, Frater, or Abram-man; I speak to all that stand in faire election for the title of King of Beg­gers, with the command adjoyning, Higgen your Orator, in this inter-Regnum, that Whilom was your Dommerer, doth beseech you all to stand faire, and put your selves in rank, that the first comer may at his first view make a free choice to say up the question.

Fer. Prig.

'Tis done Lord Higgen.

Enter Clause.
Higgen.

Thankes to Prince Prig, Prince Ferret. But where is Clause.

Ferret.

Behold the man. But pray my Masters all, Fer­ret be chosen, y'are like to have a mercifull mild Prince of me.

Prig.

A very Tyrant, I, an arrant Tyrant. If e're I come to reign; therefore look to't, except you do pro­vide me Hum enough, and Lour to bouze with: I must have my Capons and Turkies brought me in, with my green Geese, and Ducklings i'th season: fine fat Chickens, Or if you chance where an eye of tame Phesants or Par­tridges [Page 29] are kept, see they be mine, or straight I seize on all your priviledges, places, revenues, offices, as forfeit, call in your crutches, wooden legs, false bellies, forc'd eyes, and teeth, with your dead armes; nor leave you a durty clout to beg with on your heads, or an old rag with butter, frankinsense, brimstone and rozen, birdlime, blood, and cream to make you an old sore: not so much sope as you may some with i'th falling-sickness; the very bag you beare, and the brown dish shall be escheated, all your daintiest dells too I will deflowre, and take your dearest Doxies from your warme sides; and then some one cold night I'le watch you what old Barne you go to roust in, and there I'le smother you all i'th musty Hay.

Higgen.

This is Tyrant like indeed: but what would Ginkes or Clause be here, if either of them should reigne?

Clause.

Best ask an Asse, if he were made a Camell, what he would be; or a Dog and he were a Lyon.

Ginkes.

I care not what you are, Sirs, I shall be a Beg­gar still, I am sure, find my selfe there.

Enter Goswin.
Snap.

O here a Judge comes.

Higgen.

Cry a Judge, a Judge.

Goswin.

What ayleyou [...]irs? what meanes this out-cry?

Higgen.

Master, a sort of poor soules met: Gods-fools, good Master, have had some little variance amongst our selves who should be honestest of us; and which upright­est in his call: now cause me thought we ne're should gree on't our selves, because indeed 'tis hard to say; we all dissolv'd, to put it to whom that should come next, and that's your Mastership, who I hope, will termine it as your minde serves you, right, and no otherwise we ask it: which? which does your worship think is he? sweet Master look over us all, and tell us; we are seaven of us, like to the seaven wise Masters, or the Planets.

Goswin.

I should judge this the man with the grave beard, and if he be not,—

Clause.
[Page 30]

Bless you good Master, bless you.

Goswin.

I would he were: there's something too a­mongst you to keep you all honest.

Snap.

King of Heaven go with you.

Omnes.

Now God reward him, may he never want it▪ to comfort still the poor in a good houre.

Ferret.

What i'st? see; Snap has got it.

Snap.

A good Crown marry:

Prig.

A crown of Gold.

Ferret.

For our new King; good luck.

Ginkes.

To the common treasury with it; if't be Gold thither it must.

Prig.

Spoke like a Patriot, Ferret

King Clause, I bid God save the first, first, Clause, after this golden token of a Crown; where's Orator Higgen with his gratuling speech now in all our names?

Ferret.

Here he is pumping for it.

Ginkes.

H'has cough'd the second time, 'tis but once more and then it comes.

Ferret.

So, out withall; expect now—

Higgen.

That thou art chosen venerable Clause, our King and Soveraign; Monarch o'th Maunders, thus we throw up our Nab-cheats, first for joy, & then our filches; last we clap our fambles, three subject signes, we do it without envy: for who is he here did not wish thee cho­sen, now thou art chosen? ask 'um: all will say so, nay swear't, 'tis for the King, but let that pass; when last in conference at the bouzing Ken this other day we sat about our dead Prince of famous memory: (rest, go with his rags:) and that I saw thee at the Tables end, rise mov'd, and gravely leaning on one Crutch, lift the other like a Scepter at my head, I then presag'd thou shortly would'st be King, and now thou art so: but what needs presage to us, that might have read it in thy beard: Oh happy beard: but happier Prince whose beard was so remark'd, [Page 31] as marked out our Prince, not baiting us a haire. Long may it grow, and thick and faire, that who lives under it, may live as safe, as under Beggars-Bush, of which this is the thing, that but the Type.

Omnes.

Excellent, excellent Oratour, forward good Higgen, give him leave to spit: the fine, well spoken Higgen.

Higgen.

This is the beard, the bush, or bushy-beard under whose Gold and Silver raign 'twas said so many ages since, we all should smile on impositions, taxes, grievances, knots in a State, and whips unto a subject, lye lurking in his beard, but all kem'd out: if now the Beard be such, what is the Prince that owes the Beard? a father; no, a Grandfather; nay the great Grandfather of you his people. He will not force away your Hens, your Bacon, when you have ventur'd hard for't, nor take from you the fattest of your puddings: under him each Man shall eat his own stolne Eggs and Butter, in his own shade, or Sun shine, and enjoy his own deare Dell, Doxy, or Mort, at night in his own straw, with his own shirt, or sheet, that he hath filtch'd that day, I, and possess what he can purchase, back, or belly-cheats, to his own prop: he will have no purveyors for Pigs, and Poultry.

Clause.

That we must have, my Learned Oratour, it is our will, and every man to keep in his own Path and Circuite.

Higgen.

Do you heare.

You must hereafter maundon your own pads he saies.

Clause.

And what they get there, is their own, besides to give good words.

Higgen.

Do you mark? to cut Bene-whids, that is the second Law.

Clause.

And keep a foot the humble, and the common phrase of begging, least men discover us.

Higgen.

Yes: and cry sometimes to move compassion; [Page 32] Sir, there is a Table, that doth command all these things, and enjoynes 'em; be perfect in their Crutches: their fain'd Plaisters, and their true passe-bords, with the wayes to stammer, and to be dumb, and deaf, and blind, and lame, There, all the halting paces are set down, i'th learned Language.

Clause.

Thither I refer them, those, you at leisure shall interpret to them, we love no heapes of Lawes, where few will serve.

Omnes.

O gracious Prince, 'save the good King Clause.

Higgen.

A song to Crown him.

Ferret.

Set a Centinell out first.

Snap.

The word?

Higgen.

A cove comes. and fumbumbis to it—strike Which ended.

A Song.
Enter Snap, Hubert, and Hemskirke.
Snap.

A Cove; Fumbumbis.

Prig.

To your po­stures; Arme.

Hubert.

Yonders the Town; I see it.

Hemskirk.

There's our danger indeed afore us, if our shadows save not.

Higgen.

Blesse your good worships.

Ferret.

One small peece of money.

Prig.

Amongst us all poor wretches.

Clause.

Blind and lame.

Ginks.

For his sake that gives all.

Hig.

Pittifull worships.

Snap.

One little doit.

Enter Iaculine.
Iaculine.

King, by your leave, where are you?

Clause.

To buy a little bread.

Higgen.

To feed so many mouths as will ever pray for you.

Prig.

Here be seven of us.

Higgen.

Seven, good Master, O remember seven, seven blessings.

Ferret.

Remember, gentle Worshipfull.

Higgen.

'Gainst seven deadly sins.

Prig.

And seven sleepers.

Higgen.

If they be hard of heart, and will give no­thing—alas we had not a charity this three dayes.

Ferret.

Heaven reward you.

Prig.

Lord reward you.

Higgen.
[Page 33]

The Prince of pitty blesse thee.

Hub.

Do I see? or is't my fancy that would have it so? ha? 'tis her face; come hither Maid.

Iaculine.

What ha' you Bells for [...]y Squirrel? I ha' giv'n Bun meat, you do not love me do you? catch me a Butterfly, and I'le love you again; when? can you tell? Peace, we go a birding; I shall have a fine thing.

Hub.

Her voyce too sayes the same; but for my head I would not that her manners were so chang'd, hear me thou honest fellow; what's this Maiden that lives amongst you here?

Ginks.

Ao, ao, ao, ao.

Hub.

How? nothing but signes?

Ginks.

Ao, ao, ao, ao.

Hub.

'Tis strange, I would fain have it her, but not her thus.

Higgen.

He is de—de—de—de—de—de—deaf, and du—du—du—dude-dumb sir.

Hub.

'Slid they did al speak plain ev'n now me thought, dost thou know this same Maid?

Snap.

Why, why, why, why, which, gu, gu, gu, gu, Gods fool she was bo—bo—bo—bo—born at the Barn yonder by be—be—be—be—Beggars Bush, bo—bo—Bush, her name is My—my—my—my—Match; so was her Mo—Mo—Mothers too too.

Hub.

I understand no word he sayes; how long has she been here?

Snap.

lo—lo—long enough to be in—in—ingled; and she ha go—go—go—good luck

Exeunt Beggers.
Hub.

I must be better inform'd, then by this way. here was another face to that I mark'd, Oh the old man's but they are vanisht all most suddainly; I will come here again, Oh that I were so happy, as to find it, what I yet hope? It is put on.

Exeunt Begger Hubert.
[Page 34]Enter Snap, and Ferret.
Snap.

The Coast is cleare, Ferret, I bo—bo—bo—'d hence.

Ferret.

I, thou wert at thy ba, be, bi, bo, bu, which shew'd thou wert a Schollar.

Snap.

He durst not hold discourse with me, so much for the credit of the Snaps, as the word sayes, either Snap some, or Snap all. That is if you cannnot Snap all, Snap some.

Ferret.

But thy snaping too short makes thee so leane, I think I have ferreted you there Snap.

Snap.

We shall not get a snap if we prate longer, our King is serv'd by this time, Dish, and bit, the Feast waites no man, but the man waits it.

Ferret.

That is an eager stomack Snap; here I Ferret you again.

Exeunt.

The Sexton, or the Mock-Testator.

ARGUMENT.

A Covetous jealous Lawyer, that keeps too severe an eye over his Wife, is drawn from home by a wild, to be made an Executor, and thereby enriched, whilest some Gentlemen effect their desire at his House.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Sexton,
  • Parson,
  • Lawyer,
  • two Gentlemen.
Table, Stooles, Standish and Paper.
LAwyer.

So rich, and I his sole Executor.

Parson.

Very right Sir, I am to make his will, will you come neer Sir.

Lawyer.

I am sorry neighbour to find you in so weak a [Page 35] State.

Sexton.

Ye are welcome, but I am fleeting, Sir.

Lawyer.

Methinks he lookes well, his colour fresh and, strong, his eyes are cheerfull.

Parson.

A glimering before death Sir, 'tis nothing els; do you see how he fumbles with the sheetes?

Sexton.

My learned Sir pray ye sit, I am bold to send for you to take a care of what I leave.—

Pars.

Do you hear that?

Sexton.

My honest neighbours weep not, I must leave ye, I cannot alwayes bear ye company, we must drop still, there is no remedy: pray ye Mr. Parson will ye write my Testament, and write it largly, it may be remembred, and be witness to my legacies good Gentlemen: your worship I do make my full Executor, you are a man of wit and un­derstanding: give me a cup of Wine to raise my spirits, for I speak low: I would, before these neighbours, have you to swear, (Sir) that you will see it executed; and what I give, let equally be rendered for my Soules health.

Lawyer.

I vow it truly neighbours, let not that trouble ye, before all these, once more I give my Oath.

Sexton.

Then set me higher, and pray you come neer me all.

Parson.

We are ready for you.

Sexton.

First then, after I have given my Body to the Wormes: (for they must be serv'd first, they are seldome cozen'd.)

Parson.

Remember your parish Neighbour.

Sexton.

You speak truly, I do remember it, a vile lewd Parish, and pray it may be mended: To the poor of it (which is to all the Parish) I give nothing, for nothing unto nothing is most naturall, yet leave as much space as will build an Hospitall, their children may pray for me.

Lawyer.

What do you give to it?

Sexton.

Set down two thousand Duckets: To your Worship; (because you must take paines to see all finish'd) I give two thousand more, it may be three Sir, a poor gratuity for your paines-taking.

Lawyer.

These are large [Page 36] sums?

Parson.

Nothing to him that has 'em.

Sexton.

To my old Master I give five hundred, (five hundred and five hundred are too few Sir) but there are more to serve.

Lawyer.

This fellow Coines sure.

Sexton.

Give me some more drink, Pray ye buy Books, buy books, you have a learned head stuffe it with libraries, and understand 'em when ye have done, 'tis justice, run not the parish mad with controversies, nor preach not as abstinence to longing women, 'twill purdge the bottome of their consciences: I would give the Church new Organs, but I prophesie the church-Wardens would quickly pipe 'em out 'oth parish, two hundred Duckets more to mend the Chancell, and to paint true Orthography as many, They write Sunt with a C which is abominable, pray you set that down to poor maids Marriages.

Parson.

I that's well thought of, what's your will in that point? A merritorious thing.

Sexton.

I give per annum two hundred Ells of Lockram that there be no streight dealings in their Linnens, but the sails cut according to their burthens; to all Bell-ringers, I bequeath new Ropes, and let them use them at their own discretions.

Gentlemen.

You may remember us Sir.

Sexton.

I do, good Gentlemen, and I bequeath you both good carefull Surgeons a legacy, you have need of more then Money, I know you want good dyets and good lotions▪ and in your pleasures good take heed.

Parson.

He raves now, but 'twill be quickly off.

Sexton.

I do bequeath ye commodities of thy pins: brown papers: Pack-threads, rost Porke and puddings: Ginger-bread and Iews trumps of penny pipes, and moul­dy pepper: take 'um ee'n where you please and be cozen'd with 'em, I should bequeath my Executours also, but those I'le leave to the Law.

Parson.

Now he grows tem­perate.

Lawyer.

You'l give no more.

Sexton.

I am [Page 37] loth to give more from ye, because I know you will have a care to execute, only to pious uses, Sir a little.

Lawyer.

If he be worth all these, I am made for ever.

Sexton.

I give to fatal Dames that spin mens thredsout, and poor distressed Damsells that are militant, as members of our own afflictions, a hundred crowns to buy warme Tubs to worke in, I give five hundred pounds to buy a Church yard, a spatious Church yard, to lay theeves and knaves in, rich men and honest men take all the roome up.

Parson.

Are you not weary?

Sexton.

Never of well doing.

Lawyer.

These are mad Legacies.

Sexton.

They were got as madly, my sheep and oxen, and my moveables, my Plate and Jewels and five hundred acres; I have no heires.

Lawyer.

This cannot be, 'tis monstrous.

Sexton.

Three Ships at Sea too.

Lawyer.

You have made me full Executor?

Sexton.

Full, full, and totall, would I had more to give ye, but these may serve an honest mind.

Lawyer.

You say true, a very honest mind, and make him rich too; But where shall I raise these moneys, where shall I find these summes?

Sexton.

Even where ye please Sir, you are wise and provident, and know business, even raise 'em where you shall think good, I am reasonable.

Lawyer.

Think good? will that raise thousands?

Sexton.

You have sworn to see it done that's all my comfort.

Lawyer.

Where I please? this is pack'd sure to disgrace me.

Sexton.

Ye are just and honest, and I know ye will do it, e'ne where you please, for you know where the wealth is.

Lawyer.

I am abus'd, [...]baffl'd and boared it seemes.

Gentlemen.

No, ye are fool'd.

Parson.

Most finely fool'd.

Sexton.

Ha, ha, ha, some more drink, for my heart, Gentlemen this merry Lawyer—Ha, ha, ha this Schollar—I think this fit will cure me: this [Page 38] Executor—I shall laugh out my lungs.

Lawyer.

This is dirision above sufferance.

Gentlemen.

Did you think, had this Man been rich, he would have chosen a Wolfe, a Cancker, a Maggot-pate to be his whole Executor?

Parson.

A Lawyer that intangles all mens honesties, and lives like a Spider in a cob-web, lurking, and catching at all flies, that pass his Pit falls? Puts powder to all States, to make 'em caper? would he trust you?

Sexton.

Do you deserve? I find Gentlemen this Cata­plasme of a well cozen'd Lawyer laid to my Stomack lenifies my feaver, Methink I could eat now & walk a little.

Lawyer.

I am asham'd to see how flat I am cheated, how grosely, and maliciously made a May-game:

2. Gentleman.

This 'tis to covet all the gaines, to have a stirring Oare in all mens actions.

Parson.

We did this but to vex your fine officiousies.

Lawyer.

I thank ye, I am fool'd Gentlemen; the Law­yer is an Asse, I do confess it, a weak, dull, shallow Asse, good even to your Worships: Vicar, remember Vicar, Raskall remember, thou notable rich Raskall.

Sexton.

I do remember Sir, pray ye stay a little, I have even two Legacies more to make your mouth up, Sir.

Lawyer.

Remember Varlets, quake and remember Rogues, I have brine for your Buttocks.

Parson.

Oh, how he frets and fumes now like a dunghill.

Exit.
Sexton.

His Gall containes fine stuffe now to make poysons, rare damned stuffe.

Gentlemen.

Go, let's us crucifie him.

Exeunt.

A PRINCE in Conceit.

ARGUMENT.

Two Gentlemen Travellers resolving to see the fashions of the Court, leave their servants in an Inn with some Riches, they not returning at their appointed time, makes him conclude they are—and so run into extravagancies.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Pimponio, the Prince in conceit,
  • Host and his Son,
  • Aurelio by the name of Borgia,
  • Pisauro,
  • Dutchess, and
  • Courtiers.
Enter Prince in Contemplation.
PRINCE.

Dead, dead, they are no doubt on't, and I Heire apparant to the port-ma [...]tue, an aglet hole or two in their hearts has done the business, the port-mantue, I say bring forth the port-mantue.

Enter Boy and his Father.
Boy.

'Tis here Sir.

Prince.

And thy Father too Boy?

Father.

What would you have, 'tis very late?

Prince.

Never too late to tell Money, fetch me a brace of Gennets, I will mount 'em, a Covey of Curtisans, dost here?

Father.

What does the fellow meane?

Prince.

No fellows friend on thy allegiance, 'tis time to shew our selfe, where is thy Boy?

Boy.

Here Seignior.

Prince.

Kneel down, and ask me blessing.

Boy.

This does look like a blessing, shall I ask another?

prince.

Ask any thing but what I am, I must be still disguis'd, my Men are absent.

Father.

Your men?—

Prince.

Thou art wise, thine eare, I am a Prince, the reason of my shape thou shalt know hereafter, thus Iove has been disguis'd.

Boy.

Is not your name Pimponio.

Prince.

It was my pleasure they should call me so, I [Page 40] have not found 'em trusty, how fares the Dutchess? Boy thou shalt wait on me, I'le have you all.

Father.

Whether?

Prince.

To Spain, when thou hast got a chapman for this tub thou liv'st in, let me know it.

Enter Pisauro.
Pisauro.

Where's Pimponio?

Prince.

A pox pimp you, they are alive agen, now am I a dead man.

Pisauro.

There is a certain moveable, ecclip'd a port­mantue.

Prince.

Would your tongue had been clip'd.

Father.

With your pardon Sir, is not this Seignior a Prince disguis'd, and came hither to Court the Dutchess? he has promis'd us at his return from Spain to make us grandees.

Pisauro.

Has he betraid himselfe? nay then my duty; if please your excellence.

Prince.

Away, away.

Pisauro.

A Prince cannot be hid▪ though under Mountains, but my deare Prince the bags must go with me, while you keep State 'ith Inn.

Prince.

Who shall maintain.

Pis.

If I did think thou wouldst carry it handsomely—well I'le excuse thee to thy Master, when thou hast domineer'd away this Bag, thou mayst hear more, and so I take leave of your excellence.

Exit.
Prince.

Hah, am not I a Prince indeed? Grutti, Boy, I entertain you both my Groom, and Page, and say unto you, Snakes go cast your coates, here's earnest for new skins, when things are ripe we will to Court.

Father.

What thinks your Grace of going to bed.

Prince.

I am too sober, let the whole house be drunk first, let me have fifty Strumpets.

Father.

Fifty Trum­pets.

Prince.

Strumpets I say, they'l make the greater noise, this Roome's too narrow, beat down the walls on both sides, advance your light, and call the country in, if there be a Taylor amongst 'em, he shall first take measure of my highness, for I must not longer walke in Querpo

Both.

We attend your Highness.

Exeunt.
[Page 41]Enter Father and Son again.
Father.

Why I shall hardly take thee for my own natu­rall child.

Boy.

Let me alone with my Don, he is gone to fit himselfe with clothes, and if I do not fit him, let me never find the way into my own breeches, see he has had a nimble Taylor, some Suit prepared to his hand, I know my cue to enter, and pursue his Princely humor out of breath.

Exit.
Prince.

And how, and how do things become? We were in clouds but now.

Enter Prince like a Don & servants.
Father.

Your Highness is broken out.

Prince.

Broken out, where?

Father.

Out of the clouds and please you.

Prince.

There is no Infidell among you then, you all believe I am a Prince, there are no Traitors I hope amongst yee.

Father.

Traitors we will cut off any mans neck, that dares but think so.

Prince.

Do and I will justify it, hang necks among friends, let us be merry, reach me a Chaire and a bottle of Wine, every one take his charge.

Father.

Will not your Highness have the dance first.

Prince.

They will dance the better when they are three quarters drunk, musick and give fire at once—so, but methings it were necessary there were some difference in our drinking; all are not Princes, reach me a bigger bottle, I will preserve my state, This is a Princely draught—so—why have we not a concubine?

Musick. Sound a health.
Servant.

Brave Prince with what a Majesty he drinks.

Prince.

Now let 'em friske the dance you have pre­par'd, we are ready to accept it.

Father.

And it shall please your Grace there is a high German desires to speak with you.

2. Serv.

I fear you are betray'd Sir, and that the Dutchess has sent for you.

Prince.

For me, I won not come yet,

1. Servant.

Do [Page 42] not affront him Sir for your own sake, this high German has beaten all the Fencers in Europe.

Prince.

Let him beat all the World, what's that to me? shall he make a Prize of me?

Father.

But if he come Embassadour from the Dutchess.

Prince.

That's an other matter, give me the tother bottle—now let all the Cantons of Scorss come—which is the high German? let me see him.

Enter Boy.
Father.

That Sir.

Prince.

He's one of the lowest high Germans that e're I look'd on.

Boy.

I kiss thy highness hand.

Prince.

And we imbrace thy Lownes: d'ye heare Sir, are you a high German?

Boy.

I was so at the beginning of the wars, what we are beaten to you may discerne.

Prince.

Are you beaten to this? you'l be a very little Nation if the wars continue.

Boy.

I have a message to deliver you, the faire Dutchess of Urbin, whom I wait on, hearing a person of your blood and quality, so meanly lodg'd, by me, desires you would ac­cept an entertainment in her Court.

Prince.

We give the Dutchess thanks: But what High German in thy little judgement, doest think the Dutchess will do with me there.

Boy.

'Twere sin to say she'l honour you, for you are a­bove all addition, but her love, 'tis probable you may be affronted.

Prince.

No matter, I have been affronted a hundred times, but by whom?

Boy.

Questionless by some great ones, and perhaps beaten.

Prince.

I have been beaten too upon good occasion, and will agen to save my Honour, beaten? I can take the strappado, beside in this part I am insensible, a Kick is cast away.

Boy.

If you be valient and indure, it will engage her love the more, go on boldly, my councell shall attend.

Prince.

I will go on, and fear no beating; well I cannot [Page 43] Knight thee, yet prove but a witch, I'le make thee one of my privy Councellors.

Exeunt.
Enter Prince, and Boy with a Trumpet.
Boy.

Tara, Ra ra ra, room for the Duke of Ferrara.

Exeunt.
Enter Prince again, and two Courtiers.
Prince.

VVhat's the matter.

1. Courtier.

You have fool'd finely, you must be whipt, and stript, my scurvy Don.

Prince.

VVhip a Prince? what d'ye mean?

2. Courtier.

You must be Duke of Ferrara▪

Prince.

Duke of a Fidle-stick, are you in earnest Gentle­men? do you intend I shall catch an Ague Gentlemen?

1. Courtier.

The lash, when the fit comes, will keep you warme, stay but a little, and we'l send you a whip to com­fort you.

Prince.

'Twill be but cold comfort, make the best on't; how am I transform'd? where's my low high German now? Duke of Ferrara quoth a':—wou'd I were any thing, I know not what I am, as they have handled me.

Enter Dutchess and Courtier.
Dutchess.

Is the Duke gone?

Courtier.

Yes Madam.

Dutchess.

I'le have the fool hang'd then.

Prince.

That's I.

Dutchess.

Alas poor fellow, Ha, ha, ha, what art thou?

Prince.

Nothing, I hope she does not know me agen, I must deny my selfe.

Dutchess.

Come hither sirrah, whose devise was it to bid you say you were Duke of Ferrara?

Prince.

Alas not I Madam, he is gone.

Dutchess.

Who is gone?

Prince.

The insolent fellow that made a fool of your Highness.

Dutchess.

Whether is he gone?

Prince.

To obey your Grace, and be whip'd.

Dutch.

VVhy do you shake so?

Prince.

I'm very warme and please your Grace.

Dutch.

VVhere's your Clothiers.

Prince.

My Clothes? I never wore any more in my life, I sweat with these.

Dutch.

Alas poor fellow, [Page 44] he has punishment enough, who waites there.

Prin.

Now to be sent to whipping cheer.

Enter a servant
Dutch.

Bid Borgia attend us.

Exit.
Servant.

I shall Madam.

Exit.
Enter Borgia or Aurelio his Master.
Borgia.

How now sirrah, what are you?

Prince.

A tumbler; do you not know me?

Borgia.

I know thee?

Prince.

VVhat not Pimponio honest Pimponio.

Servant.

Seignior Borgia her Grace calls for you.

Exit.
Borgia.

I attend.

Prince.

How Seignior Borgia? then I am not I. And there is no staying here to find my selfe, as I remember some back friends of mine did promise a clean whipt, I'le rather endure the foulness of the weather then stay for't, I must be dukifi'd, be perswaded into Kicks—they'l return I won not tempt my desteny, she promis'd to hang me, and I can do that for my selfe when I have a mind to't.

Enter Courtiers.
1. Courtier.

Kick that fellow out of the Court.

Prince.

You are mistaken Sir, he meanes some body els, I have been kick'd already,

Oh gentle fate rid me out of their clutches:
And then adue to our picked-dame Dutchess.
Exeunt.
Enter Aurelio and Pisauro.
2. Courtier.

What's the matter▪

Pimponio within. Oh yes, Oh yes.
Pisauro.

A fool has lost his Master, and thus cryes him about the Court thy man Aurelio.

Enter Pimponio.
Pimp.

Oh Yes;

If any Man there be
In Town or in Countree
Can tell me of a wight,
Was lost but yester Night:
His name was I know
Seignior Aurelio,
Bring word to the Cryer
His desolate Squire,
By these marks, he is known
He had a bush of his own,
Two eyes in their place,
And a Nose on his face,
His Beard is very thin,
But no haire on his Chin,
And for this fine feat
Take what you can get;

[Page 45]And heaven bless Pimponio, for no body knowes me and I know no body else to pray for.

Pisauro.

Here, here's thy Master.

Pimp.

No, no, that's Seignior Borgia, not a word of whiping if you love me, do not deceive your selfe.

Borgia.

We have been both deceived, Pimponio I am thy master.

Pimponio.

Why then I'le wander through an other World with you, a World that hath more charity in't, then to uncase a man for doing his master Honour.

Exeunt.

An Equall Match.

ARGUMENT.

A loose Officer, and a wanton waiting Woman, marry in hope of eithers Riches, and cozen one another.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Perez,
  • Estifania,
  • an odl Woman and
  • her Daughter, or
  • Maid servant.
Enter Perez.
PErez.

Shall I never return to my own house again? we are lodg'd here in the miserablest Doghole, a conju­rers circle gives content above it, a Hawkes mew is a Princly pallace to't we have a bed no bigger then a basket, and there we lye like Butter clapt together, and sweat our selves to sauce immediatly, the fumes are infinite inhabit here too; and to that so thick they cut like Marmalet, so various too, they'l pose a Gold finder. Never return to mine own paradice? why wife I say, why Estifania?

Estif.
[Page 46]

Within. I am coming presently.

Per.

Make hast good Jewell; I am like the people that live in the sweet Islands: I dye, I dye, if I stay but one day more here, my lungs are rotten with the damps that rise, and I cough nothing now but stinkes of all sorts; the Inhabi­tantes we have, are two starv'd Rats, for they are not able to maintaine a Cat here, and those appear as fearfull as two Divells, they have eat a map of the whole World up already, and if we stay a night longer we are gone for com­pany, There's an old woman that's now grown to Marble, dry'd in this Brick hill, she sits 'ith Chimnies, which is but three tyles rais'd like a house of Cards, the true pro­portion of an old smok'd hovill, there is a young thing too, that's nature meant for a Maid servant, but 'tis now a monster, she has a huske about her like a Chesnut, with lasiness, and liveing under the line here, and these two make a hollow sound together, like Frogs or winds be­tween two Doores that murmurs, mercy deliver me, O are you come wife! Shall we be free agen?

Enter Estif.
Estif.

I am now going, and you shall presently to your own house Sir, by that time you have said your Orisons, and broke your fast, I shall be back and ready to usher you to your old content, your freedome.

Perez.

Break my neck rather, is there any thing here to eat but one another like a race of Canniballs, a peice of butter'd wall you think is excellent, let's have our house agen, immediatly, and pray ye take heed unto the Furniture, none be imbe­zelled?

Estifania.

Not a pin I warrant you.

Perez.

And let 'em instantly depart.

Estif.

They shall both, for by this time she has acquainted him, and will give over gratefully unto you.

Perez.

I'le walk 'ith churchyard, the dead cannot offend me more then these living, an houre hence I'le expect you.

Estifania.

I'le not faile Sir.

Perez.

And do ye hear, lets have a handsome dinner, and let me have a strong [Page 47] Bath to restore me, I stinke lik a stall-fish-shambles, or an Oyle-shop.

Estifania.

You shall have all; which some interpret nothing.

Exeunt.
Enter again Perez, with an old Woman and Maid.
Perez.

Nay, pray ye come out, and let me understand ye, and tune your Pipe a little higher Lady, i'le hold ye fast:

Old Wo.

Ha, what would you have?

Perez.

My goods agen, how came my trunks all open.

Old Wo.

Are your Trunks gone?

Perez.

Yes, and clothes gone, and Chaines, and Jewells, how she smells like hung Beefe, the palsy and picklocks, fie how she belches the spirit of Garlick.

Old Wo.

Where's your Gentlewoman? the young fair Woman?

Perez.

What's that to my question? she is my Wife, and gone about my business.

Old Wo.

Is she your Wife Sir?

Perez.

Yes Sir, Is that wonder, is the name of Wife unknown here.

Old Wo.

Is she truely, truely your Wife?

Perez.

I think so, for I marryed her, it was no vision sure.

Old Wo.

If you be marryed to that Gentlewoman you are a wretched man, she has twenty husbands.

Maid.

She tells you true.

Old Wo.

And she has cozen'd all Sir.

Perez.

The divell she has, I had a fair house with her that stands hard by, and furnisht Royally.

Old Wo.

You are couzen'd too, 'tis none of hers, good Gentleman, It is a Ladyes, what's the Ladyes name wench?

Maid.

The Lady Margarita, she was her servant, and kept the house, but going from her Sir, for some lewd tricks she plaid.

Perez.

Plague a'the divell, Am I 'ith Meridian of my wisdome cheated by a stale Quean? what kind of Lady is that, that owes the house?

Old Wo.

A young sweet Lady.

Perez.

Of a low stature?

Old Wo.

She is indeed of a low stature, but wondrous fair.

Perez.

I feel I am couzen'd, sensible I am undone, was she her Mistress say you?

Old Wo.
[Page 48]

Her own Mistress, her very Mistress Sir, and all you saw about that house was hers.

Perez.

No plate, no Jewells, nor no hangings? No Money?

Old Wo.

She is a poor shifting thing, but for one Gown her Lady gave her.

Perez.

I am mad now, I think I am as poor as she, I am wild els, one civill suit I have left, and that's all, if she steal that she must flea me for it, where does she use?

Old Wo.

You may find truth as soon, alas a thousand conceal'd corners Sir she lurkes in, and here she gets a fleese, and there another, and lives in mists and smokes where none can find her.

Perez.

Is she a whore too?

Old Wo.

Little better Gentleman, I dare not say she is so, she is yours.

Perez.

A Whore and a Theife too, two excellent moral vertue, in one she's Saint, I hope to see her le­gend, well here's a Royall left yet, there's for your lodging and your meat for this weeke; a Silk-worme lives at a more plentyfull ordinary, and sleeps in a sweeter Box, Farewell great Grandmother, if I do find you were an accessary, 'tis but cuting off two smoaky minutes, I'le hang you presently.

Exeunt.
Enter again at one end, and his Wife at the other.
Estif.

'Tis he, I am caught, I must stand to it stoutly.

Perez.

It is my evill Angell, let me bless me; my worthy wife?

Estif.

My most noble Husband.

Perez.

I have been in bawdy houses.

Estif.

I beleive you, and very lately too.

Perez.

To seek your Ladyship, in Cellers too, in private Cellers where the thirsty bawds heare your con­fessions, I was among the Nuns because you sing well, but they say yours are bawdy songs, they mourne for ye, and last I went to Church to seek you out, 'tis so long since you were there, they have forgot you.

Estif.

You have had a merry progress, I'le tell nine now, I went to twenty Taverns.

Perez.

And are you sober.

Estif.

Yes, I reel [Page 49] not yet sir, where I saw twenty drunk, most of them Souldiers, from thence to'th Diceing-house, there I found quarrels needlesse, and sencelesse, Swords, and Pots, and Candlesticks, Tables, and Stooles, and all in one confusion; then to the Chyrurgions went, who learnedly told me, if you tippl'd hard twenty to one you whor'd too, and then he should hear of you; last to your Confessor I came who told me you were too proud to pray, and here I have found ye.

Perez.

She beares up bravely, and the Rogue is witty, why am I couzen'd, why am I abused? Thou most vile, base, abominable.

Estif.

Captain.

Perez.

Thou stincking, overstew'd, poor, pocky.

Estif.

Captain.

Perez.

D'you eccho me.

Estif.

Yes sir, and go before you too, you had best now draw your Sword Captain, draw it, upon a VVo­man, do brave Captain, upon your VVife, oh most renowned Captain.

Perez.

A plague upon thee, why didst thou marry me?

Estif.

To be my Husband.

Perez.

Why didst thou flatter me, and shew me won­ders, a House and riches? when they are but shaddowes, shaddowes to me.

Estif.

VVhy did you work on me with your strong Souldiers wit, and swore you would bring me so much in Chaines? so much in Jewels Husband, and here's your Treasure, sell it to a Tinker to mend old [...]ettles; is this noble usage?

Perez.

A Fire subtle you, are ye so crafty?

Estif.

Here's a goodly Jewel, did not you win this at G [...]lletta Captain, or took it in the Field from some brave Bashaw? how it sparkles like an old Ladies eyes? and fils each Room with Light like a Dark-lanthorn, this would do rarely in an Abby Window, to couzen Pilgrims.

Perez.
[Page 50]

Prithe leave prating.

Estif.

And here's a Chain of Whitings-eyes for Pearles, a Mussel-monger would have made a better.

Perez.

Nay, prithe VVife, my Cloathes, my Cloathes.

Estif.

I'le tell ye, your Cloathes are parallels to these all counterfeit, put these and them on, you are a Man of Copper, a kind of Candlestick, these you thought, my Husband to have couzen'd me withall, but I am quit with you.

Perez.

Is there no House then, nor no ground about it, no Plate, nor Hangings.

Estif.

There are none sweet Husband; shadow for sha­dow is an equall; justice, can you raile now? pray put your fury up sir, and speak great words, you are a Souldier, Thunder.

Perez.

I will speak little, I have plaid the fool, and so I am rewarded.

Estif.

You have spoken well sir.

Exeunt.

The STALLION.

ARGUMENT.

A Gentleman falls into the hands of Officers, to whom be must either pay a summe of money, or be constrained to serve in the Gallies for some yeares, a Matrona to a Brothell, takeing a likeing to him, payes the imposed summe, and takes him to her House, where he serves the Womens unsa­ [...]iate importunities; being dreyned and wearied, is by a happy accident released.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Ruttillio,
  • Officers,
  • Baud,
  • Pimp,
  • three or four sick Persons belonging to the Brothell,
  • a Gentleman.
Enter Baud, and Pimp.
BAud.

Shall I never see a lusty Man again.

Pimp.

Faith Mistress, you do so over-labour 'em, and so dry­founder [Page 51] 'em, they cannot last.

Baud.

Where's the French-man?

Pimp.

Alas, he's all to fitters, and lies taking the height of his fortune with a Sirrenger, he's chin'd, he's chin'd good Man, he is a mourner.

Baud.

VVhat's become of the Don?

Pimp.

Who? gold Locks? he's foule i'th Touch-hole: and recoiles again, the main Springs weakned that holds up his Cock, he lies at the sign of the Sun to be new breech'd.

Baud.

The Rutter too is gon.

Pimp.

Oh, that was a brave Rascal, he would labour like a Thresher; but alas what thing can ever last? he has been ill-mew'd, and drawn too soon; I have seen him in the Hospital.

Baud.

There was an English-man.—

Pimp.

I, there was an English-man; you'l scant find any now to make that name good. There was those Eng­lish-men, that were Men indeed, but they are vanisht: They are so taken up in their own Countrey, and so beat­en off their speed by their own VVomen, when they come here they draw their Legges like Hackneys, drink, and their own devices have undone 'em.

Baud.

I must have one thats strong, no life in Lisbon else, perfect and young; my custome with young Ladies and high fed Citty-Dames will fall and break else, I want my selfe too in my age to nourish me; They are all sunck I maintain'd, now what's this business? what goodly fel­lows that?

Enter Ruttillio, and Officers.
Ruttillio.

VVhy do you drag me? Pox on your Justice, let me loose, cannot a Man fall into one of your drunken Cellars, and venture the breaking on's Neck, but he must be us'd thus rascally.

1 Officer.

VVhat made you wandring so late i'th night? you know that is imprisonment.

Ruttillio.

May be I walk in my sleep.

Officer.

VVhat made you wandring sir, into that Vault where all the City store and the Ammunition lay?

Ruttillio.
[Page 52]

I fell into't by chance, I broke my shins for't, your Worships feel not that; I knockt my Head against a hundred Posts, would you had had it, cannot I break my Neck in my own defence?

Officer.

Your coming thither was to play the Villain, to fire the Powder and blow up that part o'th City.

Ruttillio.

Yes, with my Nose.

Officer.

We have told you what's the Law, he that is taken there, unlesse a Magistrate, and have command in that place, presently if there be nothing found appa [...]ent, neer him worthy his Torture, or his present death, must either pay his Fine for his presumption, (which is six hundred Duckets) or for six yeares tug at an Oa [...]e i'th Gallies; may be you were drunk, you'l be kept sober there.

Ruttillio.

Tug at an Oare, you are not errant Rascals to catch me in a Pit fall and betray me?

Baud.

A lusty-minded Man.

Pimp.

O, wonderous able.

Baud.

Pray Gentlemen allow me but that liberty to speak a few words with your Prisoner, and I shall thank you.

Officer.

Take your pleasure Lady.

Baud.

What would you give that Woman should redeem you, re­deem you from this slavery.

Ruttillio.

Besides my service, I would give her my whole selfe, I would be her Vassal.

Baud.

She has great reason to expect as much, consi­dering the great summe she payes for't, yet take comfort, what you shall do to merit this, is easy, and I will be the Woman shall befriend you, 'Tis but to entertain some handsome Ladies, and young fair Gentlewomen; you guesse the way; but—giving of your mind—

Ruttillio.

I am excellent at it, you cannot pick out such another living; I understand you, is't not thus? ▪—

Baud.

Ye have it.

Rutt.

Bring me a hundred of 'em, I'le dispatch 'em, I will be none but yours; should another offer [Page 53] another way to redeem me, I should scorn it, what Wo­men you shall please; I am monstrous lusty, not to be taken down; would you have Children? I'le get you those as [...]ast, and thick as fly-blowes.

Baud.

I admire him, wonder at him.

Ruttillio.

Hark you Lady, you may require some times.—

Baud.

I by my faith.

Ruttillio.

And you have it by my faith and handsomely; this old Cat will suck shrewdly; you have no Daughter? I fly at all; now I am in my Kingdom, Tug at an Oare? no, tug in a Fea­ther-bed with good warm Caudles; hang your bred and water, I'le make you young again, beleeve that Lady; I will so frubbish you.

Baud.

Come fellow Officers, this Gentleman is free; I'le pay the Duckets.

Ruttillio.

And when you catch me in your Citty-pow­dering Tub again, boyle me with Cabbidge.

Officer.

You are borh warn'd and arm'd Sir.

Exeunt.
Enter Ruttillio with a Night-Cap, as in the Brothell-house.
Ruttillio.

Now do I look as if I were Crow-trodden, fy, how my hams shrink under me; O me, I am broken­winded too; Is this a life? Is this the recreation I have aim'd at? I had a body once, a handsome body, and wholsome too; now I appear like a Rascal that had been hung a year or two in Gibbets, fy, how I faint; Wo­men? keep me from Women; Place me before a Can­non, 'tis a pleasure; stretch me upon a Rack, a recreati­on; but VVomen? VVomen? O the Devill VVomen? courteous Gulfe was never halfe so dangerous; Is there no way to fall into the Cellar again, and be taken? no lucky fortune to direct me that way? no Gallies to be got, nor yet no Gallowes? for I feare nothing now, no Earthly thing but these unsatisfied Men-leeches, Women: how divelishly my bones ake: oh the old Lady! I have [Page 54] a kind of waiting-VVoman lyes crosse my back too, oh how she stinks! no treason to deliver me? now what are you? do you mock me?

Enter 3. or 4. with Night-caps very faintly.
1

No sir no, we were your predecessors in this place.

2

And come to see how you beare up.

Ruttillio.

Good Gentlemen, you seem to have a snuf­fing in your head sir, a parlous snuffing, but this same dampish ayre—

2

A dampish ayre indeed.

Ruttillio.

Blow your face tenderly, your nose will nere endure it; mercy on me, what are men chang'd to here? is my nose fast yet? methinks it shakes i'th hilts; pray tell me Gentlemen, how long is't since you flourisht here?

3

Not long since.

Ruttillio.

Move your selfe easily, I see you are tender, nor long endured.

2

The labour was so much sir, and so few to perform it—

Ruttillio.

Must I come to this? and draw my legs after me like a lame dog? I cannot run away, I am too feeble; will you sue for this place again Gentlemen?

1

No truly sir, the place has been too warm for our Complexions.

2

VVe have enough on't, rest you mer­ry sir, we came but to congratulate your fortune, you have abundance.

3

Beare your fortune soberly, and so we leave you to the next fair Lady.

Exit the three.
Ruttillio.

Stay but a little, and i'le meet you Gentle­men, at the next Hospital, there's no living thus, nor am I able to endure it longer, with all the helps and heates that can be given me, I am at my trot already; they are fair and young most of these VVomen that repair to me, but they stick on like burres, shake me like feathers, more VVomen yet?

Enter Baud.

VVould I were honestly married, to any thing that had but halfe a face, and not a great to keep her, nor a [Page 55] smock, that I might be civilly merry when I pleased, ra­ther then labouring in these fulling Mills.

Baud.

I see you bear up bravely yet.

Ruttillio.

Do ye hear Lady, do not make a Game-bear of me, to play me hourly, and fling on all your Whelps; it will not hold; play me with some discretion, to day one course, and two dayes hence another.

Baud.

If you be angry, pay back the money I redeem'd you at, and take your course; I can have Men enough: you have cost me an hundred Crownes since you came hi­ther, in brothes and strengthning Caudles; till you do pay me, if you will eat and live, you shall endeavour, i'le chain you to't else.

Ruttillio.

Make me a Dog-kennel, i'le keep your House and bark, and feed on bare bones, and be whipt out a' doores, do ye mark me Lady? whipt, i'le eat old shooes.

Enter a Gentleman.
Baud.

Your businesse sir, if it be for a Woman, ye are cozen'd, I keep none here.

Gent.

Certain this is the Gentleman, the very same.

Rutt.

Death, if I had but money, or any friend to bring me from this bondage, I would thrash, set up a Coblers stall, keep Hogs, and feed with 'em, sell Tinder­boxes, and knights of Ginger-bread, that's for three halfe pence a day, and think it Lordly, from this base Stallion trade: why does he eye me, eye me so narrowly?

Gent.

It seemes you are troubled Sir, I heard you speake of want.

Rutt.

'Tis better hearing far then re­lieving Sir:

Gent.

I do not think so, you know me not.

Rutt.

Not yet that I remember.

Gent.

You shall, and for your friend, be confident I love you, by this you shall perceive it, 'tis Gold, & no small summe, a thousand duck­ets supply your want.

Rutt.

But do you do this faithfully.

Gent.

If I mean ill, spit in my face, and kick me; in what else I may serve you Sir, command.

Rutt.

I thank you, [Page 56] this is as strange to me as Knights adventure? where are you white broth? now lusty blood come in and tell your money: 'tis ready here, no threats, nor no Orations, nor prayers now.

Baud.

You do not meane to leave me.

Rutt.

I'le live in Hell sooner then here, and cooler, come quickly come, dispatch, this ayres unwholsome: quickly good Lady quickly to't.

Baud.

Well since it must be, the next I'le fetter faster sure, and closer.

Rutt.

And pick his bones, as y'ave done mine, pox take ye.

Gentle.

At my Lodging for a while, you shall be quar­ter'd, and there take Physick for your health.

Rutt.

I think I have found my good Angell now, if I can keep him.

Exeunt.

The GRAVE-MAKERS.

ARGUMENT.

While▪ he is making the Grave, for a Lady that drown'd her selfe, Hamlet and his friend interrupt him with several Questions.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Grave-maker, and
  • his Man,
  • Hamlet, and
  • his Friend.
Enter two to dig the Grave.

IS she to be buried in Christian burial, when she wil­fully seekes her own Salvation?

Man.

I tell thee she is, therefore make her Grave streight; the Crowner hath sat on her, and findes it Chri­stian burial.

Grav.

How can that be, unlesse she drown'd her selfe, in her▪ own defence?

Man.

Why 'tis found so.

Grav.
[Page 57]

It must be so offended, it cannot be else; for here lies the point, if I drown my self willingly it argues an act, and an act hath three branches, it is to act, to do, to perform, or all; she drown'd her selfe wittingly.

Man.

Nay, but hear you good man Delver.

Grav.

Give me leave, here lyes the water, good, here stands the man, good, if the man go to this water and drown himself, it is nill he, will he; he goes, mark you that: but if the water come to him and drowns him, he drowns not himself; argall, he that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life.

Man.

But is this Law?

Grav.

I marry is't, Crowners quest law.

Man.

Will you have the truth on't, if this had not been a Gentlewoman, she should have been buried out a' Christian burial.

Grave.

Why there thou say'st, and the more pitty that great folke should have countenance in this World to drown or hang themselves, more then meaner christians: come my spade, there is no ancient Gentlemen but Gar­deners, ditchers and Grave-makers, they hold up Adams profession.

Man.

Was he a Gentleman?

Grave.

He was the first that ever bore Armes. I'le put another question to thee, if thou answer'st me not to the purpose, confesse thy selfe.

Man.

Go to.

Grave.

What is he that builds stronger then either the Mason, the Ship-wright or the Carpenter?

Man

The Gallowes-maker, for that out-lives a thou­sand Tenants.

Grave.

I like thy wit well in good faith, the Gallowes does well, but how does it well? it does well to those that do ill, now thou dostill to say the Gallowes is built strongerthen the Church, Argall the Gallowes may do well to thee, to't again, come.

Man.
[Page 58]

Who builds stronger then a Mason, a Ship-wright or a Carpenter?

Grave.

I, tell me that and unyoke.

Man.

Marry now I can tell.

Grave.

To't.

Man▪

Mass I cannot tell.

Grave.

Cudgell thy braines no more about it, for your dull Ass will not mend his pace with beating, and when you are askt this question next, say a Grave-maker, the houses he makes last till Doomesday, go get thee in and fetch me a soope of Liquor.

Sings.
In youth when I did love, did love
Methought it was very sweet,
To contract, O the time for a my behove,
O methought there was nothing a meet.
Enter two Gentlemen.
1. Gent.

Has this fellow no feeling of his business? a sings in Grave-making.

Sings.
1. Grave.
But age with his stealing steps
Hath clawed me in his clutch,
And hath shiped me into the Land,
As if I had never been such.
Ham.

That skull had a tongue in it, & could sing once, how the knave jowles it to the ground, as if 'twere Caines Jaw-bone, that did the first murder: this might be the pate of a pollitician which this Ass now o're­reaches, one that would circumvent God, might it not?

2. Gent.

It might Sir.

Ham.

Or of a Courtier, which could say, good morrow my Lord, how dost thou sweet Lord? this might be my Lord such a one, that praised my Lord such a ones Horse when he meant to beg it, might it not?

2. Gent.

I Sir.

Hamlet.
[Page 59]

Why ee'n so, and now my Lady Wormes choples, and knocks about the mazer with a Sextons spade, here's fine revolution, and we had the trick to see't, did these bones cost no more the breeding but to play at log­gits with 'em? mine ake to think on't.

Grave.
A Pickaxe and a Spade a spade,
For and a shrowding sheet,
O a pit of Clay for to be made
For such a Guest is meet.
Ham.

There's another, why may not that be the Scull of a Lawyer? where be his quiddities now? his quillities, his cases, his termes, and his tricks? why does he suffer this mad knave now to knock him about the sconce with a durty shovell, and will not tell him of his actions of bat­tery? hum: this fellow might be in's time a great buyer of Land, with his statutes, his rogguizance, his fines, his double vouchers, his recoveries, to have his fine pate full of fine durt; will vouchers vouch him no more of his purchases and doubles, then the length and bredth of a paire of Indentures? the very conveyances of his land will scarcely lye in this Box, and must the Inheritor him­selfe have no more? Ha?

Friend.

Not a jot more Sir.

Ham.

Is not parchment made of Sheep skins?

Friend.

I Sir, and of Calves skins too.

Ham.

They are Sheep and Calves which seek out assurance in that. I will speak to this fellow: whose Grave's this firrah?

Gravemaker.

Mine Sir, or a pit of Clay for to be made.

Ham.

I think it's thine indeed, for thou ly'st in't.

Gravem.

You lye out on't Sir, and therefore 'tis not yours: for my part I do not lye in't, yet it is mine.

Ham.

Thou dost lye in't, to be in't and say it is thine, 'tis for the dead, not for the quick, therefore thou ly'st.

Gravem.

'Tis a quick lye Sir, 'twill again from me to [Page 60] you.

Ham.

What man dost thou dig it for?

Gravem.

For no man Sir.

Ham.

What Woman then?

Gravem.

For none neither.

Ham.

Who is to be bury'd in't?

Gravem.

One that was a VVoman Sir, but rest her soul, she's dead.

Ham.

How long hast thou been a Grave-maker.

Gravem,

Of the dayes 'ith year I came to't, that day that our last King Hamlet overcame Fortinbrass.

Ham.

How long is that since?

Gravem.

Cannot you tell that? every fool can tell that; it was that very day that young Hamlet was born, he that is mad, and sent into England.

Ham.

I marry, why was he sent into England?

Gravem.

Why, because he was mad, a shall recover his wits there, or if he do not, 'tis no great matter there.

Friend.

Why?

Gravem.

'T will not been seen in him there, there are Men as mad as he.

Friend.

How came he mad?

Gravem.

Very strangly they say.

Ham.

How strangely?

Gravem.

Faith ee'n with loosing his wits.

Ham.

Upon what ground?

Gravem.

Why here in Denmarke: I have been Sexton here man and boy thirty yeares.

Ham.

How long will a man lye 'ith earth e're he rot?

Gravem.

Faith if he be not rotten before he dye, as we have many pocky courses that will scarce hold the laying in, a will last you some eight year or nine year; a Tanner will last you nine year.

Friend.

Why he more then another?

Gravem.

Why Sir his Hide is so tan'd with his Trade, that a will keep out water a great while, and your water [Page 61] is a sore decayer of your whorson dead body: here's a scull now hath layn you 'ith earth twenty three yeares.

Ham.

Whose was it?

Gravem.

A whorson mad fellow it was, whose do ye think it was?

Ham.

Nay I know not.

Gravem.

A pest [...]ence on him for a mad Rogue, a powr'd a Flaggon of Rhenish on my head once; this same scull Sir, was Sir Yoricks the Kings Jester.

Ham.

This?

Gravem.

'Een that.

Ham.

Alas poor Yorick, I knew him friend, a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy, but where be your Gibes now▪ your Gamboles, your Songs of merryment? quite chop fa [...]'n? prithee friend tell me one thing.

Friend.

What's that Sir?

Ham.

Dost thou think Alexander lookt a this fashion 'ith earth?

Friend.

'Een so.

Ham.

And smelt so? pah.

Friend.

Ee'n so Sir.

Ham.

To what base uses may we return? why may not imagination trace the noble dust of Alexander, till a find it stopping a Bung-hole.

Friend.

'Twere to consider, too curiously to consider so.

Ham.

No faith not a jot, but to follow him thither with modesty enough, and likelihood to lead it: Alexander dyed, Alexander was buryed, Alexander returned to dust, the dust is Earth, of Earth we make Lome, and why of that Lome whereto he was converted, might they not stop a Beer-barrel?

Imperial Caesar dead, and turn'd to clay,
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away;
Oh that that Earth which kept the World in awe,
Should patch a Wall t'expell the Water flaw.

The Loyal Citizens.

ARGUMENT.

Who rescue their Prince condemn'd to dye, by the plots and designes of his Step-Mother.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Four Citizens, and
  • a Boy.
Enter Citizen, and his Boy.
CItizen.

Sirrah, go fetch my Fox from the Cutlers; there's money for the scowring, tell him, I stop a groat since the last great Muster he had in store pitch for the bruise he took with the recoyling of his Gun.

Boy.

Yes sir.

Citiz.

And do you hear? when you come, take down my Buckler, and sweep the Cobwebs off, and grind the Pick on't, and fetch a Nayle or too, and tack on the Bracers; your Mistresse made a Potlet on't, I thank her, at her Maids wedding, and burnt off the handle.

Boy.

I will sir.

Citiz.

Whose within here, ho, neigh­bour, not stirring yet?

Enter 2. Citizen.
2 Citizen.

Oh good morrow, good morrow: what newes, what newes?

1 Citiz.

It holds, he dyes this morning.

2 Citiz.

Then happy Man be his fortune; I am resolv'd.

1 Citiz.

And so am I, and forty more good fellows, that will not give their heads for the washing, I take it.

2 Citiz.

'Sfoot Man, who would not hang in such good Company? and such a Cause? A fire, a Wife, and Chil­dren, 'tis such a jest that Men should look behind 'em to the World; and let their honours, their honours neigh­bourship.—

1 Citiz.
[Page 63]

I'le give thee a pint of Bastard, and a Role for that bare word.

2 Citiz.

They say that we Taylors are things that lay one another, and our Geese hatch us; I'le make some of 'em feele they are Geese 'oth Game then, Iack take down my Bill, 'tis ten to one I use it; take a good heart Man, all the low Ward is ours with a wet finger: and lay my cut-fingred Ganlet ready for me, that, that I used to work in when the Gentlemen were up against us, and beaten out of Town, and almost out of debt too; for a plague on 'em, they never paid well since: and take heed sirrah, your Mistress heares not of this businesse, she's neer her time; yet if she do, I care not, she may long for Rebellion, for she has a devilish spirit.

1 Citiz.

Come lets call up the new Ironmunger, he's as tough as steele, and has a fine wit in these resurrections, are you stiring Neighbour.

3 Citizen within.

Oh good morrow

knocks.

Neighbours, I'le come to you presently.

2 Citiz.

Go to, this is his Mothers doing; she's a Ponlcat.

1 Citiz.

As any is in the VVorld.

2. Citiz.

Then say I have hit it, and a vengeance on her Let he [...] be what she will.

1. Citiz.

Amen say I, she has brought things to a fine pass with her wisdome: do you marke it?

2. Citiz.

One thing I am sure she has, the good old Duke she gives him Pap again they say, and dandles him, and hangs a Currall and Bells about his Neck, and makes him beleive his teeth will come again, which if they did, and I he, I would weary her as never Cur was wearyed: I would Neighbour, till my teeth meet, I know where—but that's councell.

Enter the 3. Citizen.
3. Citiz.

Good morrow neighbours: hear you the sad news?

1. Citiz.

Yes, would we knew aswell how [Page 64] to prevent it.

3. Citiz.

I cannot tell, methinks 'twere no great matter, if men were men: But.—

2. Citiz.

You do not twit me with my calling neigh­bour?

3. Citiz.

No surely: for I know your spirit to be tall, pray be not vext.

2. Citiz.

Pray forward with your councell: I am what I am: And they that prove me, shall find me to their cost: do you marke me neighbour? to their cost I say.

1. Citiz.

Nay look how soon you are angry.

2. Citiz.

They shall neighbour: Yes, I say they shall.

3. Citiz.

I do believe they shall.

1. Citiz.

I know they shall.

2. Citiz.

Whether you do or no, I care not two pence, I am no beast, I know mine own strength Neighbours; God bless the King, your companyes is fair.

1. Citiz.

Nay now you erre, Neighbour I must tell you so, were ye twenty neighbours.

3. Citiz.

You had best go Peach, do peach.

2. Citiz.

Peach, I scorn the motion.

3. Citiz.

Do and see what followes: I'le spend an hundred pounds, and it be two I care not, but I'le undo thee.

2. Citiz.

Peach, Oh disgrace! Peach in thy face, and do the worst thou canst I am a true man, and a free man, peach.

1. Citiz.

Nay, look, you will spoile all.

2. Citiz.

Peach.

1. Citiz.

Whil'st you two brawle together, the Prince will loose his life.

3. Citiz

Come give me your Hand, I love you well, are you for the action?

2. Citiz.

Yes, but Peach provokes me, 'tis a cold fruit, I feel it cold in my stomack still.

3. Citiz.

No more, I'le give you Cake to digest it.

Enter the 4th Citizen.
4. Citiz.

Shut up my Shop, and be ready at a call boys, and one of you run over my old Tuck with a few ashes, 'tis grown odious with tosting Cheese! and burn a little Gun-powder in my murrin, the maid made it her chamber [Page 65] pot, an hour hence I'le come again; and as you hear from me, send me a clean Shirt.

3. Citiz.

The chandler by the Wharfe, and it be thy will.

2. Citiz.

Gossip, good morrow.

4. Citiz.

O good morrow Gossip: good morrow all, I see you of one mind ye cleave so close together: Come 'tis time, I have pre­pared a hundred if they stand.

1. Citiz.

'Tis well done: shall we sever, and about it?

4. Citiz.

If my Tuck hold, I'le spit the Guard like Larkes with Sage in th'be [...]y o'um.

2. Citiz.

I have a foolish Bill to reckon with 'um, will make some of their hearts ake, and I'le lay it on: now shall I fight, 'twill do ye good to see me.

3. Citiz.

Come I'le do something for the Town to talk of when I am rotten: pray God there be enough to kill, that's all.

Invissible Smirk, or the Pen Combatants.

ARGUMENT.

A day of Iuble is appointed by the Duke, wherein every one to expresse his duty endeavours something of Mirth, to Crown that day.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Duke,
  • Dutchess,
  • Frederick,
  • Smirk,
  • a Conjurer,
  • a Spirit,
  • a Page, and
  • Lord Shallow.
Enter Smirk.
SMIRK.

Thanks my dear Jem, I've found thy vertue now, I had not past 'em els, a man may have an invissi­ble Ring I see and not know of it, what is this all the [Page 66] divices sports and delights the Duke shall have for his money? the Proclamation promiseth reward for him, shall shew any varieties, and will it all come to a dull Masque? I'le shew his Grace some sport my selfe with help of my good friend here, which now must off again, by your Majesties leave.

Duke.

How now what's he?

Smirk.

What's he? the wonder of your Kingdome.

Duke.

How, the wonder▪

Smirk.

I, and can do the greatest,—now you see me you know me.

Fred.

Yes Sir, I do know you.

Smirk.

And you all see me, you say.

Omnes.

We do.

Smirk.

And I do see all you, but what's that to the purpose?

Duke.

Very little I confess.

Smirk.

Shall I demonstrate matter of Art, and have nothing for my paines.

Omnes.

No, no, the Proclamation speaks the contrary.

Smirk.

Well, because Royalty shall have no wrong in suspecting your Bounty—you see me you say.

Duke.

Yes, we do.

Smirk.

But who sees me now?

Puts it on his finger.
Duke.

Trust me he's invissible to me.

Omnes.

And to us all.

Smirk.

I should be very sorry els; for, and my invissible Ring should not keep his old vertue, I would hang my selfe directly.

Fred.

Prithee appear again.

Smirk.

I will have Majesty call me first.

Fred.

Why, the Duke does call you.

Smirk.

Let me hear him Viva Voce, Smirk is my name, a welbeloved Subject, once a Painter, but now Squire of the invissible Ring.

Duke.

Smirk, and our welbeloved Subject, once a Painter, but now Esquire of the invissible Ring I conjure thee to appear again.

Smirk.
[Page 67]

See here I am, what wilt thou mighty Monarch?

Duke.

I do command thee let me see the Ring by which thou walk'st invissible.

Smirk.

I do command thee not to command me that, for from my invissible Ring I will not part.

Duke.

Lay hands upon him for a Sorcerer.

Smirk.

Assist me my dear Ring, no hands upon me, for being invissible I am a Prince, no hands is to be laid on me, Treason doth never prosper.

Conjurer.

Nay, then, what hoh.

Enter Spirit.
Spirit.

Thy will?

Whisper.
Conjurer.

Seize it, and fly.

Smirk within Oh, Oh, Oh.
Spirit.

I am gone.

Fred.

How? whose that exclaimes?

Enter Smirk.
Smirk.

The cramps in my Finger.

Conjurer.

The cramp?

Smirk.

I the Cramp; the Ring that cur'd it is gone, the divell go with it, for on my conscience he fetcht it.

Duke.

What's become of the Ring?

Conjurer.

Pardone me my leige, the vertue that it held came from my Art, the Dutchess found the worth on't when time was.

Duke.

Thy knowledge in good Arts is warranted by us, since all thy actions have been just and loyal—-what meanes this.

a Trumpet.
Enter a Page.
Page.
Thus was I bidden to my Soveraign,
Fall on my face, now rise I up again,
To render to the Ladyes fair salutes,
And give them all their worthy Attributes,
Wonder not that I resolutly come
Boldly, thus daring press into this roome,
For from a Lord'tis said of eminent note,
I bring this challenge such as can read may know't.
Fred.

Very succinct and peremptory.

Duke.
[Page 68]

What i'st?

Fred.

A Challenge.

Duke.

Read it.

Conju.

For this day I am Master of the Revels.

reads.

Be it known unto all Men that I, Visconnt Shallew doth Challenge all Courtiers whatsoever at the true compen­dious forme of compiling Epistles, Alias love letters to Ladyes, or Mistresses▪ either in prose or verse ex tempore or not, ex tempore according as it shall please the challen­ged

Fred.

Here's unexped sport, Smirk thou shalt take him up, I'le wager on thy side.

Smirk.

Say you so Sir, shall I be the man, 'twill recom­pence my loss of the Ring for I know I shall beat him out o'th Pit with Oratry and Poetry.

Enter Shallow
Shallow.

Which is my Antagonist?

Smirk.

Behold the Man with Pen and Inke provided.

Shallow.

Poor fool thou wilt but make thy self derided.

Smirk.

So nimble in rime, I'le first break your neck in prose, and afterwards whip you in verse, I'le I ambast you in couplets: you challenge all men to compose.

Shallow.

I do.

Smirk.

With figures or without figures, with sentences or without sentences.

a Table set forth.
Shallow.

'Tis right.

Smirk.

Draw out your pen and Inkhorn I am for you.

Shallow.

With expedition too, I put in that.

Smirk.

No, expedition belongs to Clerkes, and not to Secretaries.

Shallow.

I Sir, celerity I mean.

Smirk.

No more but so, a word's enough.

Fred.

Smirk goes on smoothly without any rub.

Conjurer.

Yet there he had one.

Fred.

Hold byas, and a sentence then.

Shallow.

Scripsi.

Smirk.

Et Scripsi.

Fred.

Now lordings lend your Eares.

Shallow.
[Page 69]

I will read it first my selfe.

Conjurer.

Good reason

Shallow.

Fairest in the World, and sweetest upon earth.

Smirk.

So so, so.

Shallow.

I remember my duty to you in black and white.

Smirk.

I would it had been black and blew.

Conjurer.

Peace.

Shallow.

For all colours else, wave under the standard of your beauty; you a [...]e the Mistress of beauty, all other Women a [...]e but your hand-maids.

Smirk.

Oh abominable ba [...]ren.

Conjurer.

Nay, Smirk silence, you must not interrupt your adversary.

Shallow.

I can say nothing, without saying too much, nor say too much without saying nothing.

Smirk.

I can say nothing, or els I wou'd say something, but here it is shall shame thee and thy Lordly botching.

Shallow.

Methinks when thou standest in the Sun with thy feather on thy head, and thy Fan in thy hand, thou look'st like the Phenix of the East Indies, burning in spices, for Cloves, Mace, and Nutmegs are in thy breath.

Smirk.

She would make an excellent Wassell boale.

Conjurer.

Again, fy, fy.

Smirk.

I have done.

Shallow.

The apples of thy breast are like the Lemons of Arabia which makes the Vessel so sweet, it can never smell of the Caske.

Fred.

If she should, it might prove the Brewers fault.

Shallow.

Being come to your midle I must draw to an end, for my end is at the midle, because of the Proverb, In Medio consistit vertus, and so I conclude: yours while mine own, and afterwards if it were possible.

Smirk.

VVell, now let me run on, judgment I crave.—

Fred.

Which thou shalt have.

Smirk.

Illustrious, bright shining, wellspoken, an [...] blood [Page 70] stirring Lady.

Fred.

I marry Sir.

Smirk.

If the Rope of my capacity could reach to the Belfry of your beauty, these words of mine like Silver Bells might be worthy to ha [...]g in the ears of your favour; but the Ladder of my invention is too low to climb up to the Steeple of your understanding.

Omnes.

Excellent Smirk.

Smirk.

If it were not, I should ring out my mind to you in a sweet Peal of most savory conceits. For your face it is like the Sun, no man is able to endure it.

Omnes.

Very good.

Smirk.

Your forehead which I will neither compare to Alleblaster nor to the Lilly, but it is, as it is, and so are both your Eyes; for your Nose, it is a well arched bridge, which for brevity sake I passe over: Your cheeks are like a good Comedy, worthy to be clapt: your lips and your teeth are incomparable; your tongue like the Instrument of Orpheus, able to tame the furies: to handle e'ry part of you were too much, but some particular part, no man can sufficient.

Fred.

Prithee let me give thee a box on the Eare, for that conceit.

Smirk.

No my good Lord, pray keep your bounties; From top to toe you are a sweet Vessel of delight, I dare not say a Barrel, for often times with much joulting the Brewer beates out the bunghole, and so the good liquor runs out, but you containe yours although not hoopt a­bout with the old farthingall after the newest fashion, and so I leave you fairest of a hundred, and wittyest of a thou­sand, resting in little rest till I rest wholly yours in the Down bed of affection, where ever standing to my utmost I rest all in all yours.

Fred.

Could any man have said more?

Shallow.

Spare your ce [...]sures a while Gentlemen; now Sir I challenge you in verse, in praise of tall Women, and [Page 71] little Women, choose your subject, which you refuse I'le take.

Smirk

Why then I'le take your little Women.

Shallow.

And I your lusty, proceed.

Conjurer.

Some patience will be required from us, for their verse cannot come off so roundly as their prose.

Smirk.

As roundly as a Runlet of Sake Sir, I'le warrant ye.

Shallow.

Scripsi.

Smirk.

Sed non feci, stay a little here are a couple of lines, a Halter on 'em, they won not twist hansomely, go forward I have ended.

Fred.

Attention.

Shallow.
Listen you tall, and likewise you low man,
I sing the praises of a bouncing Woman:
A full, well set, big-bon'd, and fairly jointed.
Fit to bid welcome, Men, are best appointed.
Conjurer.

Excellent.

Shall.
To your tall Women, your little one is nothing,
No more then is a high thing, to a low-thing.
Omnes.

That's true.

Shall.
For your small dandiprat, I hope there's no man,
That thinks her but a hobby-horse to Woman,
A thing to be forgot, and never known,
But on a holy day, to the rout shewn,
In Wars the Basilisco is prefer'd,
Before the Musket, and is louder hear'd.
Conjurer.

There's an Error, little, and loud (my friend.)

Shallow.
In every Tryumph where there is excesse,
The greater alwayes puteth down the less.
The Lyoness is more admired at,
Then her Epitome, which is a Cat.
Conjurer.

The fool growes serious: He hath stollen it certainly.

Shallow.
But to weak understandings now I come,
Is your small Taber musick to your Drum?
Smirk.

Hum, drum, he has hit within an Inch of a con­ceit [Page 72] of mine.

Shallow.
Or in an Instrument of peace, can there that cryal
Be made upon a Kit, as a base Violl?
Judge you my Masters, that on both have plaid,
It is but my opinion, and I've said.
Fred.

Come thou hast said well, Smirk look to your selfe.

Smirk.

I warrant you, give me Audience.

Conjurer.

Silence.

Smirk.
In praise of little Women I begin,
And will maintain what I have enter'd in:
Is not your Parochit, or Marmoset,
In more request then your Baboone or Parret?
Give but your little wench freely her Liquor,
And to bed send her, you will find her quicker;
Pearter, nimbler, both to kiss, and cog,
Then your great wench that will lye like a Log:
And he that all day at the Drum doth labour,
Would at night gladly play upon a Taber.
I hope there's no man but of this beliefe,
That Veal's more sweet and nourishing then Beefe:
Small meates are still prefer'd, for ask your Glutton,
He'l always say Lambs sweeter then your Mutton,
Your Smelt then whiting firmer is, and sounder,
Nor must your Place compare with your neat Flounder.
Fred.

Well said, now thou art in good victualls thou'lt never out.

Smirk
In fish or flesh I'le prove it to each wight
A Larkes leg, then the body of a Kite
Is better far; Our Bakers alwayes make
The finest flour in the lesser Cake,
And I'le be judg'd by those that rootes do eat,
That your small Turnip's better then your great.
Conjurer.

I am of thy mind too.

Smirk.
Who list to be resolv'd, let 'um both try,
In that beleife I live, in that I'le die
Fred.

Incomparable Smirk, thou'st my voice, judgment.

Omnes.

A Smirk, a Smirk.

Exeunt.

The three Merry Boyes.

ARGUMENT.

The King a Tyrant, employes them to kill his Elder Brother, the Pantler betrayes it, but the business being done, they all suffer, &c.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Yeoman of the Wine Cellar,
  • Cook, Butler,
  • Pantler,
  • Guard, and
  • Boyes.
Enter the Master Cooke, Butler, Pantler, Yeomen of the Cellar with a Iack of Beere, &c.
COok.

A hot day, a hot day, vengeance hot day boyes, give me some drink, this fire's a plaguy fretter: body of me I am dry still, give me the Jack boy, this wooden skiff holds nothing.

Pant.

And faith Master, what brave new meates? for here will be old eating.

Cook.

Old and young boy; let 'em all eat, I have it; I have ballasse for their bellies, if they eat a Gods name, let them have ten tire of teeth a peece, I care not.

Butler.

But what new rare munition.

Cook.

Pish, a thousand; I'le make your Pigges speak French at Table, and a fat Swan come sailing out of Eng­land with a Challenge; I'le make you a Dish of Calves-feet dance the Canaries, and a consort of cram'd Capons fidle to 'em; a Calves-head speak an Oracle, and a douzen of Larkes rise from the Dish and [...]ing all super time; 'tis no­thing boyes: I have framed a fortification out of Rie past which is impregnable, and against that, for two long hours together, two douzen of Marrow-bones shall play con­tinually; for fish, I'le make you a standing lake of white broth, and Pikes come plo [...]ghing up the plums before [Page 74] them; Arion like a Dolphin, playing lachrymo, and brave King Herring with his Oyle and Onyon crown'd with a Lem [...]n pill, his way prepar'd with his strong Guard of Pilchers.

Pantl.

I marry Master.

Cooke.

All these are nothing: I'le make you a stuble Goose turn o'th toe thrice, do a cross point presently, and sit down agen, and cry come eat me: These are for mirth: now Sir, for matter of mourning, I'le bring you in the Lady loyne of Veal, with the long love she bore the Prince of Orange.

All.

Thou Boy, thou.

Cooke.

I have a trick for thee too, and a rare trick, and I have done it for thee.

Yeoman.

What's that good Master?

Cooke.

'Tis a Sacrifice: a full Vine bending like an Arch, and under the blown God Bacchus, sitting on a Hogshead, his Alter-beer: before that plump Vintner kneeling and offering incense to his deity, which shall be only red sprats and pilchers.

Butler.

This when the Tables drawn, to draw the Wine in.

Cook.

Thou hast it right, and then comes thy song Butler.

Pantl.

This will be admirable.

Yeom.

Oh Sir most admirable.

Cooke.

If you'l have the Pasty speak, 'tis in my power, I have fire enough to work it; what friends hast thou to day? no Citizens?

Pantl.

Yes fa­ther, the old crew.

Cooke.

By the Masse true Wenches: sirrah set by a Chine of Beefe, and a hot Pasty, and let the Joll of st [...]rgeon be corrected: and do you marke Sir, stalke me to a Pheasant, and see if you can shout her in the Celler.

Pantl.

God a mercy lad, send me thy roaring bottles, and with such Nectar I will see 'em fill'd that all thou speak'st shall be pure helicon.

Butler.

But what was't we did promise to Monsiure Latorch.

Yeoman.

Do you ask that now?

Pantl.

I'le tell you It is to be all villaines, knaves and Traytors.

Cooke.

Fine wholsome titles.

Butler.

But if you dare go forward.

Cooke.
[Page 75]

May be hang'd drawn and quarter'd.

Pantl.

Very true Si [...].

Cooke.

What a goodly swing I shall give the Gallowes? yet I think too, this may be do [...]e, and yet we may be rewarded, not with a Rope, but wit [...] a Royal Master: and yet we may be hang'd too.

Yeoman.

Say it were done; who is't done for? is it not for [...]lio? and fo [...] his right?

Cooke.

And yet we may be hang'd too?

Butler.

Or say he take it, say we be dis­cover'd? Is not the same mam found to protect us? are we not his?

Yeom.

Sure he will never fail us.

Cooke.

If he do, friends, we shall find that will hold us; & yet methinks, this Prologue to our purpose, the Crowns were given, should promise more: 'Tis easily done, as easy as a man would roast an Egge, if that be all; for look you, Gentlemen, here stand my brothes, my finger slips a little, down drops a Dosse, I stir him with my Ladle, and there's a Dish for a Duke: Ol [...]a podrida, here stands a Bak'd meat, he wants a little seasoning, a foolish mistake; my Spice-box, Gentlemen, and put in some of this, the matter's ended; dredge you a dish of Plo [...]ers, there's the a [...]t on't.

Yeoman.

Or as I fill my Wine.

Cooke.

'Tis very true Sir, blessing it with your hand, thus quick and neatly first, when 'tis past and done once, 'tis as easy for him to thank us for it, and reward us.

Pantl.

But 'tis a damn'd sin.

Cooke.

Oh never feare that, the fire's my playfellow, and now I am resolv'd boyes.

Butler.

Why then have with you.

Yeoman.

The same for me.

Pantl.

For me too.

Cooke.

And now no more our worships, but our Lord­ships.

Pantl.

Not this year on my knowledg, I'le un-Lord you.

Exeunt.
Enter Guard.
Guard.

Make roome before there, roome for the Prisoners.

1▪ Boy.

Are these the Youths?

Cooke.

These are the Youths you look for, and pray my honest friends [Page 76] be not too hasty, there will be nothing done till we come I assure you.

2. Boy.

Here's a wise hanging, are there no more?

Butler.

Do you hear, you may come in for your share, if you please.

3. Boy.

Afore, afore, Boyes here's enough to make us sport.

Yeoman.

Pox take you, do you call this sport? are these your recreations? must we be hang'd to make you mirth.

Cooke.

Do you hear Sir? you custard pate, we go to't, for high treason, an Honourable fault: thy foolish father was hang'd for stealing sheep.

[...]. Boy.

Away Boyes, away.

Cooke.

Do you see how that sneaking Rogue looks now? you, chip, Pantler, peaching Rogue, that provided us these Neck-laces: you poor Rogue, you costive Rogue you.

Pantler.

Pray, pray, fellowes.

Cooke.

Pray for thy crusty Soul? where's your reward now goodman manchet for your fine discovery? I do beseech you Sir, where are your dollers? draw with your fellowes and be hang'd.

Yeoman.

You must now, for now he shall be hang'd first, that's his comfort, a place too good for thee thou meal-mouth'd Rascall.

Cooke.

Hang hansomely, for shame come leave your praying, you peaking knave, and be like a good Courtier; die daringly, and like a man; no prea­ching, with I beseech you take example by me, I liv'd a lewd man, good people; pox on't: die me as if thou had'st din'd, say grace, and Heaven be with you.

Guard.

Come will you forward?

Cooke.

Good Mr. Sheriffe, your leave to, this hasty work was ne're done well, give us so much time as but to Sing our own ballads for wee'l trust no man, nor no time but our own, 'twas done in Ale too, your penny pot Poets, are such pelting theeves, they ever hang men twice, we have it here Sir, and so must every Merchant of our Voyage, he'l make a sweet return else of his Credit.

Yeo.
[Page 77]

One fit of our mirth, and then we are for you.

Guard.

Make hast then, dispatch.

Yeo.

There's day enough Sir.

Cooke.

Come Boyes, sing cheerfully, we shall ne're sing younger; we have chosen a lewd tune too, because it should like well.

Song.
Yeo.
Come, fortune's a Whore I, care not who tells her,
Would offer to strangle a Page of the Celler,
That should by his Oath, to any mans thinking,
And place, have had a defence for his drinking;
But thus she does still, when she pleases to palter
Instead of his wages, she gives him a Halter.
Chorus.
Three merry boys & three merry boys & three merry boys are we
As ever did sing in a bempen string, under the Gallow Tree.
2.
Butler.
But I that was so lusty,
And ever kept my Bottles,
That neither they were musty,
And seldome less then Pottles;
For me to be thus stopt now,
With 'hem instead of Corke Sir,
And from the Gallowes topt now,
Shews that there is a Forke Sir,
In death, and this the token
Man may be two wayes killed,
Or like the Bottle broken,
Or like the Wine, be spilled.
Chorus.

And three merry Boyes, &c.

3.
Cooke.
Oh yet but look on the Master Cooke, the glory of the Kitchin,
[Page 78]In sowing whose fate, at so loftly a rate, no Taylor e're had stitching,
For though he makes the man, the Cooke he makes the Dishes;
The which no Taylor can, wherein I have my wishes,
That I who at so many a feast have pleas'd so many tasters
Should now my selfe come to be drest a dish for you my Masters.
Chorus.

And three merry Boyes, &c.

Cooke.

There's a few copies for you; now farewell friends: and good Mr. Sheriffe let me not be printed with a Brass pot on my head.

Butler.

March fair, march fair, afore good Captain Pantler.

Pantler.
Oh man, or beast, or you at least
That were or brow or Autler,
Prick up your eares, unto the teares
Of me poor Paul the Pantler,
That thus am clipt, because I chipt
The cursed crust of Treason:
With loyal knife! Oh dolefull strife
To hang thus without reason.
Exeunt

The Bubble.

ARGUMENT.

The Master becomes a servant, the servant a Master, and the Master a servant agen.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Gervase,
  • Bubble,
  • Sprinckle,
  • Scattergood,
  • Gentlewomen,
  • Fathers, and
  • two Gentlemen.
Enter Master and Man.
MAster.

Hast thou packt up all thy things? nay prithee weep not.

Man.

Affection Sir will burst out, but Master wherefore should we be parted?

Master.
[Page 79]

Because my fortunes are desperate.

Man.

But whether do you mean to go Master?

Mast.

Why to Sea man, to sea.

Man.

Lord bless us methinks I hear of a tempest already.

Enter Messenger.
Mess.

Where dwells Mr. Bubble?

Man.

What is your business with Mr. Bubble? I am the Man.

Messeng.

May I be assured that your name is Mr Bubble?

Man.

I tell thee honest friend my name is Mr Bubble, Mr Bartholomew Bubble.

Messeng.

Why then Sir you are Heir to a million; your Uncle the rich Usurer is dead.

Man.

Hum, hum.

Mast.

How my little Bubble is blown up with the news.

Enter another.
The other.

Where's the Worshipfull Mr. Bubble?

Man.

The Worshipfull, what you do with the Wor­shipfull Mr. Bubble? I am the Man.

Other Messeng.

Mr. Thong the Beltmaker by me gives you notice that your Uncle is dead, and you are his only Heir.

Bubble.
Thy news is good & I have look'd for't long,
Thanks unto thee my friend, and good man Thong:
Come Master now you shall not need to travell,
Nor feast your Toes with durt and scurvy Gravell.
Exeunt.
Enter in Mourning and a Gentleman.
Bubble.

I, I, he's gone, he's gone.

Gent.

What then? 'tis not you can fetch him agen, it must be your comfort that he dyed well.

Bubble.

Truely so it is, I would to God I had ee'n ano­ther Uncle that would dye no worse, the remembrance of death is sharp Gentlemen, therefore there is a Banquet within to sweeten your conceits.

1. Gent.

Well, Mr. Bubble we'l go in and tast of your bounty, in the mean time you must be of good cheer.

Bubble.

If greife take not away my stomack, I will have [Page 80] good cheer.

Bubble.

If griefe take not away my stomack I will have good cheer:—Sprinckle, Had the women puddens to their dole?

Sprinckle.

Yes Sir.

Bubble.

And how did they take them?

Sprinckle.

With their hands Sir.

Bubble.

O thou Hercules of ignorance, I mean how were they satisfied?

Sprinckle.

By my troth Sir, but so so, and yet some of them had two.

Bubble.

O insatiable Women! whom two puddins would not satisfie,

Off with my mourning Robes, griefe to the grave,
For I have Gold and therefore will be brave:
Pulls off his Mourning.
In Silkes I'le rattle it of every colour
And when I go by water, scorne a skullar:
In black cornation Velvet I will cloak me,
And when Men bid God save me, cry Tu Quoque:

It is needfull a Gentleman should speak Latin some times, i'st not Gervase?

Gervase.

O very gracefull, your most accomplisht Gen­tlemen are known by it.

Bubble.

Then I'le use that little I have upon all accasions.

Exeunt.
Enter Bubble as to his Courtship▪ with Ladyes and their father.
Bubble.

Thankes, and Tu Quo is a word for all, but Gervase how shall I behave my selfe to the Gentlewomen.

Staines.

Why advance your selfe towards them, and for your discourse your Tu Quoque will bear you out.

Bubble.

Nay, and that be all I care not, I'le set a good face on't that's flat, and here's a leg? if ever a Baker in England shew me a better I'le give him mine for nothing.

Gervase.

Oh that's a special thing that I must caution you of, never whil'st you live commend your selfe, the more vilely you speak of your,—the more the Ladyes [Page 81] will appla [...]d.

Bubble.

Say'st thou so Gervase, then let me alone to dispraise my selfe, I'le make my selfe the a [...]antest Coxcomb in a whole Countrey, is this the eldest sir

Gent.

Yes marry is she sir.

Bubble.

I'le kisse the youngest first, because she likes me [...]est, by th' masse they kisse exceeding well, I do not think out they have been brought up to 't,—now to my speech Lady—even a—Drumer or a Pewterer—

Lady.

Very good sir.

Bubble.

Do,—do, do.—

Lady.

What do they do?

Bubble.

By my troth I do not know; for to say truth I am a kind of an Asse.

Lady.

How sir, an Asse?

Bubble.

So God ha' me I am Lady, you never saw an erranter Asse in your life, pray look upon me Lady.

Lady.

So I do sir.

Bubble.

But look upon me well, and tell me if ever you saw a Man look so simply as I do, did you ever see a worse timber'd Leg, what say you, can you find e're a good inch about me.

Lady.

Yes that I can sir.

Bubble.

Find it and take it Lady; there I think I bob'd her Iervase,—come Ladies will you lead the way.

Gervase.

Ah while you live Men before VVomen, cu­stome hath plai'd it so.

Bubble.

Why then custome is not so mannerly as I would be.

Exeunt.
Enter with his Mistresse.
Bubble.

Pray let me see your hand, the line of your Maiden-head is out, now for your fingers; upon which finger will you weare your Wedding-ring.

Mistresse.

Upon no finger.

Bubble.

Then I perceive you mean to weare it upon your Thumb, well the time is come sweet Ioyce, the time is come.

Ioyce.
[Page 82]

What to do sir.

Bubble.

For me to tickle thy Tu Quoque, therefore prepare, provide to morne to meet me as a Bride.

Mistresse.

I'le meet thee like a Ghost first.

Exit.
Enter Scattergood, and Bubble as to be married.
Scattergood.

Did I eat my Lettice to Supper last night that I am so sleepy, thy eyes are close too Brother Bubble.

Bubble.

As fast as a Kentish Oyster, surely I was begot in a Plumb-Tree, I have such a deale of Gum about my eyes, what's this about my shins?

Scat.

We have metamorphosed our Stoacking for want of Splendor.

Bubble.

Pray, what's that Splendor?

Scatt.

Why, 'tis the Latin word for a Christmas candle.

Enter the Gentlewomen their Father and their Husband.
Bubble.

Tu Quoque to all: What shall we go to Church? I long to be about this geare.

Father.

You may take out the other nap now, for you are cozen'd, and made a coxcombe.

Scatt.

That word coxcombe goes against my Stomack.

Bubble.

And against mine, a man might have digested a Woodcock better.

Father.

Do you know that youth in Sattin, he's the penner to that Inkhorn.

Bubble.

Are not you my man Gervase? have you mar­ryed her?

Gervase.

The Priest has Sir.

Bubble.

Then am worse then ten Coxcombes.

Gervase.

And a beggerly one, your time of pageantry is over, sergeants take him to ye.

Bubble.

How's this, is my Tu Quoque come to an Et cetera

Gervase.

If you can put off your former pride and put on this with that humility that you first wore it, I will pay your debts, free you of all incumbrances, and take you a­gain into my service.

Bubble.

'Tis, but faces about, and be as I was, Tenter­hook let me go, I will take his Worships offer, rather then be kept in you clutches, a man in a Blew coat may have [Page 83] some colour for his Knavery, when in the Counter he can have none.

Exeunt.

The CLUB-MEN.

ARGUMENT.

An old Humorous Captain animates the rout to Rebellion on the behalf of Philaster, they surprise Pharamond, a boast­ing lamish Prince, but are appeased by Philaster, and Pharamond released.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • An old Captain,
  • three or four Citizens,
  • Pharamond, and
  • Philaster.
Enter Captain.

COme my brave mirmidons, lets fall on, let our Caps swa [...]me my boyes, and your nimble Tongues for­get your Mother Gib-rish, of what do you lack, and set your mouths up Children, till your Pallats fall frighted halfe a fathome, past the cure of Bay-salt and grosse Pep­per, and then cry Philaster, brave Philaster, let Philaster be deeper in request, my ding-dongs, my paires of dear Indentures, King of Clubs, then your cold water chamb­lets, or your paintings spitted with copper, let not your hasty silkes or your branch'd cloth of bodkin, or your tishnes, dearly belov'd of spiced Cake and Custard, your Robinhoods scarlet and Johns, tye your affections in darknesse to your shops, no dainty Duckers, up with your three-pil'd spirits, your wrought valours, and let your uncut coller make the King feele the measure of your mightinesse Philaster, cry my Rose-nobles cry.

All.

Philaster, Philaster.

Captain.

How do you like this my Lord Prince, these [Page 84] are mad boyes▪ I tell you, these are things that will not strike their Top-sailes to a foarst, and let a Man of Warre an Argosy bull, and cry Cockes.

Phar.

Why you rude slave, do you know what you do?

Capt.

My pretty Prince of Puppets, we do know, and give your greatnesse warning, that you talk no more such bug-words, or that soldred Crown shall be scratch'd with a Musket; Deare Prince Pippin, down with your noble blood, or as I live i'le have you codled; let him lose my spirits, make as a round Ring with your Bills my Hectors, and let us see what this trim Man dares do; now sir have at ye, here I lie, and with this swashing blow, do you sweat Prince; I could hack your Grace, and hang ye up crosse-leg'd, like a Hare at a Poulterers.

Phar.

You will not see me murthered wicked Villains.

1 Citiz.

Yes indeed we will sir, we have not seen one foe a great while.

Capt.

He would have weapons, would he? give him a broadside my brave Boyes with your Pikes, branch me his skin in flowers like a Sattin, and between every flow­er a mortal cut, your Royalty shall ravell, jag him Gen­tlemen, i'le have him cut to the kell, then down the seames, oh for a whip to make him Galoom-laces, i'le have a Coach-whip.

Phar.

O spare me Gentlemen.

Capt.

Hold, hold, the Man begins to feare and know himselfe, he shall for this time only be seal'd up with a feather through his nose, that he may only see Heaven, and think whether he's going, nay my beyond Sea sir, we will proclaime you, you would be King; thou tender heire apparant to a Church-ale, thou sleight Prince of single scarce [...]et; thou Royall ring-taile fit to fly at no­thing but poor mens Poultrey, and every Boy beat thee from that too with his bread and butter.

Phar.

Gods keep me from these hell-hounds.

2. Citiz.
[Page 85]

Shall's geld him Captain?

Capt.

No, you shall [...]pare his dowcets my dear Donsells, as you respect the Ladyes let them flourish; the curses of a longing wo­man kills as speedy as a Plague Boyes,

1. Citiz.

I'le have a leg that's certain.

2. Citiz.

I'le have an arme.

3. Citiz.

I'le have his nose and at my own charge, build a Colledge and clap't upon the Gate.

4. Citiz.

I'le have his little Gut to string a [...]it with, for certainly a royall Gut will sound like Silver.

Phira.

Would they were in thy belly, and I past my paine once.

5. Citiz.

Good Captain let me have his liver to feed Ferrets.

Capt.

Who will have parcells els? speak.

Phar.

Good Gods consider me I shall be tortur'd.

1. Citiz.

Captain I'le give you the trimming of your Hand-sword; and let me have his s [...]in to make false scab­bards.

2. Citiz.

He had no hornes Sir had he?

Capt.

No Sir, he's a palla [...]d, what would'st thou do with ho [...]nes?

2. Citiz.

O if he had, I would have made rare Hafts and whistles of 'em, but his vain bones if they be sound shall serve me.

Enter Philaster.
All.

Long long live Philaster, the brave Prince Philaster, I thank ye Gentlemen, but why are these rude weapons brought abroad? to teach your hands uncivill trades?

Capt.

We are the royal Rosicleeze, we are thy mirmi­dons thy Guard, thy rourers, and when the Noble body is in durance, thus do we clap our musty murryons on, and trace the streets in terrour, [...]is it peace thou Mars of men? is the King sociable, and bids thee i [...]e? Art thou above thy foemen and froe as Phebus? speak, of not, this stand of Royal Blood shall be broach, a tilt and run even to the lees of Honour.

Philast.

Hold and be satisfied, I am my selfe, free as my thoughts are: By the Gods I am.

Capt.

Art thou the dainty Darling of the King? art thou the hylas to our Hercules? doth the Lords bow, and [Page 86] the regarded Scarlets, kiss their gum'd gols and cry we are your servants? Is the Court navigable, and the presence struck with Flags of friendship? if not, we are thy Castle, and this man sleeps.

Philaster.

I am what I do desire to be your friend; I am what I was born to be your Prince.

Pharo.

Sir there is some humanity in you, you have a noble Soul forget my name, and know misery, set me safe aboard from these wild camballs, and as I live, I'le quit this Land for ever.

Philast.

I do pitty you: friends dis­charge your feares, deliver me the Prince.

1. Citiz.

Good Sir take heed he does not hurt you, he's a fierce man I can tell you Sir.

Capt.

Prince by your leave, I'le have a surfingle, and make you like a hawk.

Philast.

Away, away, there is no danger in him, alas he had rather sleep to shake his fit off, good my friends go to your houses and by me have your pardons and my love and for an earnest drink this.

Exit Philast. & Pharomond.
All.

Long may'st thou live brave Prince, brave Prince, brave Prince.

Capt.

Thou art the King of Courtesies: fall off again my sweet youths, come, and every ne [...]ce to his house a­gen, and hang his pewter up, then to the Tavern and bring your wives in muffs, we will have Musick, and the red Grape shall make us dance and rise boyes.

Exeunt.

Forc'd VALLOUR.

ARGUMENT.

A Fellow that will never fight but when he is in paines with some displease is perswaded into one, and then doe, Wonders.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • Demetrius the Prince▪
  • Leonttius a Collonel,
  • a Leiutenant,
  • two Gentlemen,
  • 2. Phisitians.
Enter Leontius, and Leiutenant.
LEontius.

Go get the Drums, beat round Leiutenant.

Leiute.

Hark ye, Sir, I have a foolish business they call Marryage.

Leon.

After the Wars are done.

Leiute.

The Party stayes Sir, I have given the Priest his money too: all my friends Sir, my Father, and my Mo­ther.

Leon.

Will ye go forward.

Leiut.

She brings a pretty matter with her.

Leon.

Halfe a douzen Bastards.

Leiut.

Some forty Sir.

Leon.

A goodly competency.

Leiut.

I meane Sir, pounds a year; I'le dispatch the matter, 'tis but a night or two; I'le overtake ye Sir.

Leon.

Where lyes the horse quarter?

Leiut.

And if it be a Boy, I'le even make bold Sir.

Leon.

Away with your whore, a plague o'your whore, damn'd Rogue, now you are cur'd and well; must ye be clicketing?

Leiut.

I have broke my mind to my ancient, in my absence, he's a sufficient Gen­tleman.

Leon.

Get forward.

Leiut.

Only receive her portion.

Leon.

Get ye forward; els I'le bang ye forward.

Leiut.

Strange Sir, a Gentleman and an Officer, cannot have the liberty to do the Office of a man.

Leon.
[Page 88]

Shame light on thee, how came this whore into thy head?

Leiut.

This w [...]ore Sir? 'tis strange, a very poor whore.

Leon.

Do not answere me: Troop, troop away; Do not name this whore again, or think there is a whore.

Leiut.

That's very hard Sir.

Exeunt.
Enter Leontius, and Leiutenant again.
Leon.

Turne but thy face, and do but make Mouths at 'em.

Leiut.

And have my teeth knockt out; I thank you heartily.

Leon.

what the divell ailes thee? d [...]st long to be hang'd?

Leiut.

Faith sir, I make no suit for't: but rather then I would live thus out of charity, continually in brawling.—

Leon.

And wilt thou ne're fight more?

Leiut.

'Ith mind I am in.

Leon.

Nor never be sick a­gain?

Leiut.

I hope I shall not.

Leon.

Prithee be sick again; prithee, I beseech thee, be just so sick again.

Leiut.

I'le need'st be hang'd first.

Leon.

If all the arts that are can make a collique, there­fore look to't; or if imposthums marke me, as big as foot balls.—

Leiut.

Deliver me.

Leon.

O [...] stones of ten Pound weight 'ith Kidneys, through ease and ugly dyets may be gather'd; I'le feed ye up my selfe, I'le prepare ye, you cannot fight, unlesse the devill feares ye, you shall not want provocations, I'le scratch ye, I'le have thee have the Tooth-ach and the head-ach.

Leiut.

Good Collonel, I'le do any thing.

Leon.

No, no, nothing—then will I have thee blown with a pair of Smiths bellows, because you shall be sure to have a round Gale with ye, fil'd full of Oyle, o'devill, and aquafortis, and let these work, these may provoke.

Leiut.

Good Collonel.

Leon.

A coward in full blood prithee be plaine with me, will roasting do thee any good?

Leiut.

Nor basting neither sir.

Leon.

Marry that goes hard,—do you see that thing there▪

Enter two Gentlemen
1. Gent.

What thing? I see the brave Leiutenant.

Leon.
[Page 89]

Rogue what a name hast thou lost? be rul'd yet, I'le beat thee on; go winck and fight: a plague upon your sheepes heart.

2. Gent.

What's all this matter?

1. Gent.

Nay I cannot shew ye.

Leon.

There's twenty Pound, go but smell to 'em.

Leiut.

Alas sir, I have taken such a cold I can smell nothing.

Leon.

I can smell a ras­call, a ranck rascall: fie how he stincks, stinks like a tyred jade.

2. Gent.

What sir?

Leon.

Why that sir, do not you smell him?

2. Gent.

Smell him.

Leon.

Stinks like a dead Dog, carrion—there's no such damnable smell un­der heaven as the faint sweat of a coward: will ye fight yet?

Leiut.

Nay, now I defye ye; ye have spoke the worst ye can of me, and if every man should take what you say to the heart—

Leon.

God a mercy, God a mercy with all my heart; here I forgive thee; and fight, or fight not, do but go along with us and keep my Dog.

Leiut.

I love a good Dog naturally.

1. Gent.

What's all this stir Leiutenant?

Leiut.

Nothing sir, but a sleight matter of argument.

Leon.

Pox take thee: sure I shall love this Rogue, he's so pretty a Coward; come play fellow, come, prithee come up; come Chicken, I have a way shall fit yet; a tame knave; come, look upon us.

Leiut.

I'le tell you who does best boyes.

Exeunt.
Enter Leontius, and the two Gentlemen.
2. Gent.

That he is sick again.

Leon.

Extreamly sick; his disease grown incurable, ne­ver yet found, nor touch'd at.

2. Gent.

Well we have it and here he comes.

Leon.

The Prince has been upon him what a platter face he has now? it takes, believe it; how like an Asse he lookes?

Enter Leiutenant
Leiut.

I feel no great pain, at least I think I do not; yet I feel sensibly I grow extreamly faint: how cold I sweat now?

Leon.

So, so, so.

Leiut.

And now 'tis even too true, I feel a pricking, a pricking, a strange pricking: how it tingles? and as it were a stitch too: the Prince told [Page 90] me, and every one cry'd out I was a dead man; I had thought I had been as well.

Leon.

Upon him now boys, and do it most demurely.

2. Gent.

How now Leiutenant.

Leiut.

I thank ye Gentlemen.

1. Gent.

Life, how lookes this man? how dost thou good Leiutenant?

2. Gent.

I ever told ye this man was never cur'd, I see it too plain now; how do ye feel your selfe? you look not perfect, how dull his eye hangs?

1. Gent.

That may be discontent.

2. Gent.

Beleive me friend I would not suffer now the tithe of those paines this man feeles; marke his forehead, what a cloud of cold dew hangs upon't?

Leiut.

I have it, again I have it; how it growes upon me? a miserable man I am.

Leon.

Ha, ha, ha, a miserable man thou shalt be, this is the tamest trout I ever tickl'd.

Enter two Phisitians.
Phis.

This way he went.

2. Phis.

Pray heaven we find him living, he's a brave fellow, 'tis pitty he should perish thus.

Phis.

A stronge hearted man, and of a noble suf­ferance.

Leiut.

Ho, ho,

1. Gent.

How now? how is it man.

Leiut.

Oh Gentlemen, never so full of pain.

2. Gent.

Did I not tell ye?

Leiut.

Never so full of pain Gentlemen.

1. Phis.

He is here; how do ye Sir.

2. Phis.

Be of good comfort Souldier, the Prince has sent us to you.

Leiut.

Do you think I may live.

1. Phis.

Yes you may live; but.—

Leiut▪

Finely butted Doctor.

1. Gent.

Do not discourage him.

2. Gent.

Here comes the Prince.

Enter Demetrius.
Dem.

How now Gentlemen?

2. Gent.

bewailing Sir, a souldier, and one I Demetrius think your Grace will greive to part with, but every living think.—

Dem.

'Tis true, must perish, our lives are but our marches to our Graves, how dost thou now Leiutenant?

Leiut.

Faith 'tis true Sir, we are but spans and candles [Page 91] ends.

Leon.

He's finely mortified.

Dem.

I see he alters strangely; and that a pace too, I saw it this morning in him, when he poor man I dare [...]wear.—

Leiut.

No beleiv't sir, I never felt it.

Dem.

How he swells?

1. Phis.

The imposthume fed with a new ma­lignant humor now will grow to such a bigness, 'tis in­credible, the compass of a Bushell will not hold it, and with such a hell of torture it will rise too.—

Dem.

Can you endure me touch it?

Leiut.

Oh, I beseech you Sir? I feel you sensibly e're you come neer me.

Dem.

He's finely wrought, he must be cut, no cure else, and suddenly, you see how fast he blowes out.

Leiut.

Good Mr. Doctor, let me be beholding to you, I feel I cannot last.

Phis.

For what Leiutenant?

Leiut.

But ev'n for halfe a douzen cans of good Wine, that I may drink my Will out; I faint hideously.

Dem.

Fetch him some Wine, and since [...]e must go Gentlemen, why let him take his journey merrily.

Leiut.

That's even the neerest way.

Dem.

Here off with that.

Leiut.

These two I give your Grace, a poor remembrance of a dying man Sir, and I beseech you weare 'em out.

Dem.

I will souldier, these are fi [...]e Lega­cies.

Leiut.

Among the Gentlemen, even all I have left; I am a poor man, naked, yet something for remem­brance; four a peece Gentlemen, and lay my body where you please.

Leon▪

It will work.

Leiut.

I make your Grace my Executor, and I beseech you see my poor will fulfilled; sure I shall walk else.

Dem.

As full as they can be fill'd, here's my hand souldier.

Leiut.

I would hear a Drum beat but to see how I could endure it.

Dem.

Beat a Drum there.

A Drum is beat within.
Leiut.

Oh Heavenly musick, I would hear one sing to't, I am very full of pain.

Dem.

Sing? 'tis impossible.

Leiut.

Why, then I would drink a Drum full; where lies the Enemy?

2. Gent.

Why, here close [Page 92] by.

Leon.

Now he begins to m [...]ster.

Leiut.

And dare ye fight? dare ye fight Gentlemen?

1. Phis.

You must not cut him: he's gone then in a moment, all the hope left, is to worke his weakness into sudden anger, and make him raise his passion above his paine, and so dispose him on the Enemy; his body then being stir'd with violence, will purge it selfe and break the sore.

Dem.

'Tis true sir.

1. Phis.

And then my life for his.

Leiut.

I will not die thus.

Dem.

But he is too weak to do.—

Leiut.

Die like a Dog?

1. Phis.

I he's weak but yet he's heart-hole.

Leiut.

Hem.

Dem.

An excellent signe.

Leiut.

Hem.

Dem.

Stronger still, and better.

Leiut.

Hem, hem; Ran, tan, ran, tan, tan.

Exit Leiut.
Phis.

Now he's 'ith way on't.

Dem.

Well go thy wayes, thou wilt do something certaine.

Leon.

And some brave thing, or let mine Eares be cut off.

Exeunt.
Enter Leontius and Gentlemen.
Leon.

Fetch him off, fetch him off; I'm sure he's clouted; did I not tell you how 'twould take?

1. Gent.

'Tis admirable

Enter Leiutenant with colours in his hand, per­suing 3 or 4. souldiers.
Leiut.

Follow that blow my friend, there's at your Coxcombs, I fight to save me from the surgeons miseries.

Leon.

How the knave curryes 'em?

Leiut.

You can­not Rogues, till you have my diseases, fly my fury, ye bread and butter Rogues, do you run from me? and my side would give me leave, I would so hunt ye, ye porredg-gutted slaves, ye Veal-broth boobies.

Leon.

Enough, enough Leiutenant, thou hast done bravely.

Enter Demetrius and Phisitians.
Dem.

Mirror of man.

Leiut.

There's a Flag for ye Sir, I tooke it out o'th shop, and never paid for't I'le to 'em again, I am not come to'th text yet.

Dem
[Page 93]

No more my souldier: beshrew my heart he is hurt sore.

Leon.

Hang him he'l lick all those whole.

1. Phis.

Now will we take him, and cure him a trice.

Dem.

Be carefull of him.

Leiut.

Let me live but two yeares, and do what ye will with me: I never had but two houres yet of happynes,; pray ye give me nothing to provoke my Valour, for I am ev'n as weary of this fighting▪—

2. Phis.

You shall have nothing; come to the Princes Tent, and there the Surgeons presently shall search ye, then to your rest.

Leiut. Leiut.

A little hansome Litter to lay me in, a [...]d I shall sleep.

Leon.

Look to him.

Dem.

I do beleive a horse begot this fellow, he never knew his strength yet.

Exeunt.

The Encounter.

ARGUMENT.

A peece of M [...]ck-Knight errantry performed between Ralfe a Grocers Prentice and Barbarossa a Barber.

ACTORS NAMES.
  • A Citizen and his Wife,
  • Ralfe their Prentice,
  • Knight of the Burning Pestle,
  • a Squire and Dwarffe attending upon the Knight,
  • Barbarossa the Giant,
  • several Knights Errant, and
  • distressed Damsells delivered by the Pussiant Knight of the Burning Pestle.
Enter Rafe, Squire, and Dwarffe.
RAFE.

Oh faint not heart, Susan my Lady deare: the Coblers Maid in Milk-street for whose sake, I take these Arms, O let the thought of thee, carry thy Knight through all the adventerous Deeds, and in the honour of thy beauteous selfe, may I destroy this monster Barbarosso, [Page 94] knock Squire upon the Bason, till it break with the shrill strokes, or till the Grant speak.

Enter Barbarosso.
Wife.

O George the Giant, the Giant, now Rafe for thy life.

Barbar.

What fond unknowing wight is this that dares, so rudely knock at Barbarosso's cell, where no man comes, but leaves his fleece behind?

Rafe.

I, Trayterous caitife, who am sent by fate to punish all the sad enormities thou hast commited against Ladies gentle, and errant Knights, Traytor to heaven and men: prepare thyselfe, this is the dismall hour ap­pointed for thee, to give strict account of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.

Barbar.

Fool hardy Knight, full soon thou shalt aby this fond reproach thy body will I bang, and loe upon that string shall hang: prepare thy selfe, for dead soon shalt thou be.

Takes down his Pole.
Rafe.

Saint George for me.

Barbar.

Gargantua for me.

Wife.

To him Rafe to him, hold up the Giant, set out thy leg before Rafe.

Fight.
Citiz.

Falsifie a blow

Rafe.

falsifie a blow, the Giant lies open on the left side.

Wife.

Bear't off, bear't off still; there boy, O Rafe's almost down, Rafe's almost down.

Rafe.

Susan inspire me, now have up again.

Wife.

Up, up, up, so Rafe, down with him, down with him Rafe.

Citiz.

Fetch him over the hip boy.

Wife.

There boy, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill Rafe.

Citiz.

No Rafe get all out of him first.

Rafe.

Presumptious man, see to what desperate end thy treachery hath brought thee, the just Gods, who ne­ver prosper those that do despise them, for all the villa­n [...]es which thou hast done to Knights and Ladies, now have paid thee home by my stiffe Arme, a Knight adven­turous; but say vile wretch before I send thy soul to sad avernus, whether it must go, what captives holds't thou [Page 95] thy sable Cave?

Barbar.

Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.

Rafe.

Go Squire and Dwarffe, search in this dreadfull Cave, and free the wretched Prisoners from their bo [...]ds.

Barbar.

I crave for mercy, thou art a Knight, and scorn'st to spill the blood of those that beg.

Exit Squire and Dwarffe.
Rafe.

Thou shewest no mercy, nor shalt thou have any, prepare thy self for thou shalt surely die.

Enter Squire leading one winking with a Bason under his Chine.
Squire.

Behold brave Knight here is one prisoner, whom this wild man hath used as you see.

Wife.

This is the wisest word I heard the Squire speak.

Rafe.

Speak what thou art, and how thou hast been us'd, that I may give him condigne punishment.

1. Knight.

I am a Knight that took my journey post northward from London, and in courteous wise, this Gi­ant train'd me to his den, under pretence of killing of the I [...]ch, and all my body with a powder strew'd, that smarts and stings, and cut away my beard, and my curl'd locks wherein were Ribands ty'd, and with a water washt my tender eyes, whil'st up and down about me still he skipt, whose vertue is▪ that till my eyes be wipt with a dry cloth▪ for this my foul disgrace, I shall not dare to look a Dog i'th face.

Wife.

Alas poor Knight releife him Rafe, releife poor Knights whil'st you live.

Rafe.

My trusty Squire convey him to the Town where he may find releife, adue fair Knight.

Ex. Squire & Knight▪
Enter Dwarffe leading one with a Patch on his Nose.
Dwarffe.

Pussiant Knight of the Burning Pestle hight, see here another wretch, whom this foul beast hath scorcht and scor'd in this unhumane wise.

Rafe.

Speak me thy name, and eke thy place of birth, and what hath been thy usage in this Cave?

2. Knight.

I am a Knight Sir Pock-hole is my name, and [Page 96] by my birth I am a Londoner, free by my Copy, but my Ancestors were Frenchmen all, and riding hard this way, upon a trotting horse my bones did ake, and I faint Knight to ea [...]e my weary limbs, light at this Cave, when straight this furious fiend, with sharpest Instrument of purest steel, did cut the Gristle of my Nose away, and in the place this velvet plaster stands, releive me gentle [...]night out of his hands.

Wife.

Good Rafe releive Sir Pock-hole, and send him away, for in truth his breath stinks.

Rafe.

Convey him st aight after the other Knight, Sir Pock-hole fa [...]e you well.

2. Knight.

Kind Sir good night.

Exit. cries within deliver us women [...] us women deliver us:
Wife.

Harke George, what a wofull [...]ry there is I think some Women lyes in there.

Rafe.

What gastly noise is this? speak Barbarossa, or by this blazing steel thy head goes off.

Barbar.

Prisoners of mine, whom I in dyet keep, send lower down into the Cave, and in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot, there may they find them and de­liver them.

Rafe.

Run Squire and Dwarffe, deliver them with speed.

Exit Scuire and Dwarffe.
Wife.

But will not Rafe kill this Giant, surely I am a­fraid if he let him go he will do as much hurt, as ever he did.

Citiz.

Not so mouse neither, if he could convert him. I George, if he could convert him; but a Giant is not so soon converted as one of us ordinary people. There's a pretty tale of a Witch, that had the divells marke about her, God bless us, that had a Giant to her son, that was called Lob—ly—by—the fire, didst never hear it George. Citiz. Peace Nell here comes the prisoners.

Enter Squire leading a man with a glass of potion in his hand, and the Dwarffe leading a woman with dyet-bread and drink.
Dwarffe.

Here be these pined wretches manfull Knight, that for these six weekes have not seen a wight.

Rafe.
[Page 97]
Deliver what you are, and how you came
To this sad Cave, and what your usage was.
Man.
I am an Errant-Knight that follow'd Arms,
With Spear and Sheild; and in my tender years,
I stricken was with Cupid's fiery Shaft,
And fell in love with this my Lady dear,
And stole her from her Friends in Turnbal-street,
And bore her up and down from Town to Town,
Where we did eat and drink, and Musick hear:
Till at the length, at this unhappy Town
We did arrive; and coming to this Cave,
This Beast us caught, and put us in a Tub;
Where we this two months sweat, and should have done
Another moneth, if you had not reliev'd us.
Woman.
This Bread and Water hath our Diet been;
Together with a Rib cut from a Neck
Of burned Mutton. Hard hath been our Fare:
Release us from this ugly Giants Snare.
Man.
This hath been half the food we have receiv'd;
But onely twice a day for novelty,
He gave a spoonful of his hearty Broath
To each of us, through this same tender Quill.
Pulls out a Siringe.
Rafe.
From this infernal Monster you shall go,
That useth Knights and Gentile-Ladies so.
Convey 'em hence
Exeunt.
Barbar.
Mercy, great Knight: I do recant my ill;
And henceforth never Gentile-Blood will spill.
Rafe.
I give thee Mercy: but yet thou shalt swea [...]
Upon my Burning Pestle, to perform
Thy promise utter'd.
Barbár.

I swear and kiss.

Rafe.
Depart then, and amend.
Come, Squire and Dwarf, the Sun grows towards his set;
And we have many more Adventures yet.
Exeunt.
The END.

The Humour of Simple.

Argument needless,

It being a Thorow Farce, and very well known.

Actors Names.
  • Simpleton the Old,
  • Simpleton the Young,
  • Doll a Wench,
  • two Gentlemen-Braves,
  • Rivals in [...]er Affection.
Enter Old Simpleton.
Old Sim­pleton.

SIrrah Simpleton, where are you?

Young Simpleton within.

Here, here, Father.

O. Simpl.

Where, where, Sirrah?

Y. Simpl.

At the Cupboard, Father; at the Cup­board.

O. Simpl.

I thought as much: but come you hither, Sirrah, or I shall make your Ears sing Prick-song for you.

Enter Young Simpleton with a great piece of Bread and Butter.
Y. Simpl.

'Tis a miserable condition that a man can­not eat a little bit for his After-noons Lunchin, but he must be disturbed in the best of his Stomach.

O. Simpl.

A bit! dost thou call it? O' my Consci­ence this devouring Rascal, old as I am, would eat me if he found me in the Cupboard.

Y. Simpl.

I do not think there is such a genteel Smith in the Town, that hath such an old niggardly Coxcomb [Page 99] to his Father as I: he knows I have no better a stomach then a young Green-sickness Girl, and yet he grutches me every bit I eat.

O. Simpl.

Leave off your muttering, and lend me an Ear a while.

Y. Simpl.

Truly I cannot spare one, Father: yet now I think on't, you have great occasion for one ever since the last Pillory-day; but since you are my Father, I will vouchsafe to listen a while.

O. Simpl.

You know that I am old.

Y. Simpl.

The more's the pity that you were not hang'd while you were young.

O. Simpl.

Thou hast drunk most of my Means away.

Y. Simpl.

I' ll eat out the rest.

O. Simpl.

Leave your ill breeding, and give me sen­sibly a Reason why you will not work.

Y. Simpl.

Because I am lazie, Father.

O. Simpl.

Nay, that's true.

Y. Simpl.

True? why, do you think I would be so un­mannerly to tell you a Lye, Father?

O. Simp.

How I shall maintain that coming stomach of yours, unless your self endeavour for it, I know not: but if thou wilt be ruled, I 'll make thee a Man.

Y. Simpl.

A Man! why what am I now, a Mouse? what would you make of me?

O. Simpl.

An Asse, an Asse, a gross Asse.

Y. Simpl.

You may well make me a gross Asse, you have so good a pattern.

O. Simpl.

Listen to me: you know the Widows Daughter at the Corner, sweet Mistriss Dorothy; she's both young and handsome, and has money too.

Y. Simpl.

I, and that will help to buy victuals.

O. Simpl.

Go and woo her, and I dare lay my Life thou carriest her.

Y. Simpl.

I carry her, Father? Alas! I have but a [Page 100] weak back, and besides I am somewhat lazily given, as you say: it were a great deal better that she would carry me.

O. Simpl.

Thou hast no more wit then my Hammers head has, and no more brains then an Anvil, which e­very one may strike on, but never move it: Go, take your Fiddle, at that they say you are excellent; and when she thanks thee from her Chamber-window, say thou art my son, and that I sent thee about the thing she wots of.

Y. Simpl.

O must I bumfiddle her under her Chamber­window? Well, I will go wash my hands, and starch my face, because I may be sure to go cleanly about my business.

Exeunt.
Enter Young Simpleton with a Viol.
Y. Simpl.

Now must I go play an Alampadoe under Mi­striss Dorothy's Chamber-window, and all that time per­haps she is a snorting: for to say the truth, my Musick will hardly have the vertue to waken her; and if she should wake, I could not tell what to say to her, unless it were to desire her to go to bed again. And because I will be sure to be acceptable to her, I will joyn my Nigh­tingale-Voyce thereunto.

Enter the first Gentleman.
1 Gent.

What Slave is this presumes to court my Mi­striss? Could I but see him, I would satisfie my anger with the ruine of his limbs; but he is gone, and I loose time in seeking.

Exit.
Y. Simpl.

That was a roaring Rogue, he has made my Heart jump upright into my Mouth; and if I had not held it fast with my Teeth, without doubt it had forsaken my Body; but he is gone, and now I will venture for­ward.

Enter the second Gentleman.
2 Gent.

I heard some Musick at my Sweet-hearts win­dow: could I but finde him, I would cut him, and slash [Page 101] him till his whole body were anatomized: but he is gone, and it was his wisest course.

Exit.
Y. Simpl.

That roaring Rogue was far worse then the t' other; he has almost frighted my Song out of my head. Oh! we true and faithful Lovers, what perils and dangers must we undergo, to gain the wills and affe­ctions of our dearest Dears? But now to my Musick; and because she shall take a great pleasure to think on it, I will sing a song of a young Wench that had a great minde to be married before her time.

Sings.
Oh! Mother let me have a Husband kinde, with toitre, loytre, loitre.
That day and night I may comfort finde of a toitre, &c.
I care not whether honest Man or Knave, so that he keep me fine and brave,
And that none else but I may have his toitre, &c.
Oh Daughter you are not old enough for a toitre, &c.
And Husbands often do prove rough with a toitre, &c.
Your tender heart no grief can carry, as they must do sometimes that marry:
You yet may well a twelve-moneth tarry for a toitre, &c.
Oh! Mother I am in my teens, for a toitre, &c.
And younger Wives are often seen with a toitte, &c.
I pray let me not so idle stand, for I can do as well as any can,
I have had a proof with John our Man of his toitre, &c.

Well, if she does not run mad for me now, it is pity she should have Musick under her VVindow as long as she lives.

Doll.

Oh is it you? I thought none but a Puppy like your self, would have disturbed the Neighbours with your Gridiron-musick: a Saw were far more pleasing.

Y. Simpl.

Forsooth I am very sorry that you have no better skill in Musick; in my Opinion I sung most melo­diously: but if you will be pleased to look with Eyes of judgement upon me, you will express your love in a better manner to me.

Doll.

I shall express my love, if you continue here, in a far worser manner then you think for. Do you see this Chamber-pot? it longs to be acquainted with that brainless head of yours: therefore be gone, and save your self a washing.

Y. Simpl.

If you should wash me, I think it would be but labour in vain: yet if you please to distil any of your sweet water upon me, I shall desire to be smelt out by you.

Doll.

You Asse, you Puppy; must you needs force a drowning?

Y. Simpl.

Is this the beginning of love? It is almost as bad as the Proverb to me: stay, it may be it is Rose­water. Voh, it is as rank Urine as ever any Doctor cast. I'll call this same Old Simpleton my Father that set me a­bout this business. Oh, Father Simpleton, where are you?

O. Simpl.

Oh my Son, how hast thou sped, Boy?

Y. Simpl.

O! I have sped most abominably, Father: I got a great deal more then I expected.

O. Simpl.
[Page 103]

Oh my own natural Boy!

Y. Simpl.

I, natural, to be sure, I had ne'er come here else.

O. Simpl.

But how did she relish thee?

Y. Simpl.

Why she relish'd me with a whole Cham­ber-pot full of water.

O. Simpl.

VVhy thou Asse, thou Puppy, thou Fool, thou Coxcomb.

Y. Simpl.

VVhy? how can I help it? why did you get me so like a Fool?

O Simpl.

Come, shew me to her, and you shall see how I will handle her.

Y. Simpl.

Nay, Father, I should be loath to marry her, after you have had the handling of her.

O. Simpl.

This is her Chamber, is it not?

Y. Simpl.

Yes: I know it by a good token; for here she opened the Sluce, and let the Flood-gates out upon me.

O. Simpl.

Mistriss Dorothy, Mistriss Dorothy, pray come to the window.

Y. Simpl.

Pray to the window, Mistriss Dorothy.

O. Simpl.

Sirrah, hold your tongue.

Doll.

VVhat again? sure this whole morning is no­thing but my trouble: what VVise-aker is that now?

Y. Simpl.

She calls you VVise-aker: speak now.

O. Simpl.

I am your Neighbour, Old Simpleton the Smith.

Y. Simpl.

And I Young Simpleton the Smith.

Doll.

Oh Neighbour, is it you? Here was your Son but now, and he kept a worse noise then a Bear-baiting: but you are civil, I will come down to you.

O. Simpl.

Look you there, Sirrah; she will come down to me, she says.

Y. Simpl.

I, by that time I have been a Courtier as long as you have been, one woman or other may come down to me.

[Page 104]Enter Doll.
Doll.

Good morrow, Neighbour: what is your busi­ness, pray?

O. Simpl.

VVhy it is this: this is my Son. Nay, it is my Son, I'll assure you.

Y. Simpl.

Yes, forsooth, he is sure I am his Son; my Mother told him so.

Doll.

Now I look better on him, he seems to me more handsome then before; your company seasons him with discretion: but what's your business, pray Sir?

O. Simpl.

VVhy, if you please, forsooth, I would fain joyn you two together in the way of Matrimony.

Y. Simpl.

Yes forsooth, to mock a marriage.

Doll.

But hold, Sir, two words to a bargain: what profession is your Son of?

Y. Simpl.

Forsooth I am a Blacksmith: and though I say it, I have as good VVorking-gear as any Smith in the Parish; all my Neighbours VVives shall be my wit­ness.

O. Simpl.

Sirrah, hold your tongue.

Y. Simpl.

VVhy, shall I come a wooing, and say no­thing for my self?

Doll.

But what Estate, I pray, has your Son in posse?

Y. Simpl.

Father, what Estate have I in a posset?

O. Simpl.

Forsooth, two Cowes you shall have with him.

Y. Simpl.

VVith a Calf, to my knowledge.

O. Simpl.

Four Ewes and Lambs, and a Horse to ride to market on.

Y. Simpl.

Yes, and an A—No, now I think on it, you may keep your Asse your self.

O. Simpl.

Four Mark in money.

Y. Simpl.

Do you mark that?

O. Simpl.

VVith a Bed and Blankets.

Y. Simpl.

And then we may daunce the shaking of the sheets when we can.

Doll.
[Page 105]

These promises are fair; and if performed, I hope I shall not need repent my bargain.

Y. Simpl.

Nor I neither: Come, let's to bed present­ly, and afterwards we'll talk on it.

Doll.

No, no; first to Church, and then to bed.

Y. Simpl.

Oh! then you wo'nt follow the fashion of our Country; we commonly go to bed first, and to Church when we can: but come, I am contented.

Exeunt.
1 Gent.

What should this mean? Doll has a Hat on: she did not use to wear one.

Enter Doll.
Doll.

Oh Gentlemen! though I desire your compa­ny, yet now I could heartily wish your absence.

1 Gent.

Why? what's the matter, Doll?

Doll.

I am married.

2 Gent.

To whom?

Doll.

Do you not know him? Young Simpleton the Smith.

1 Gent.

That Fool, that Coxcomb: I'll break his Hammer with his own jolt-head.

Doll.

Stand close, I hear him coming.

Enter Young Simpleton.
Y. Simpl.

Sweet-heart, now we are married, things ought to be well carried: and the first thing we should take care for, is, how to get Victuals. VVhat's that?

They wistle.
Doll.

Nothing but the Rats and Mice.

Y. Simpl.

As sure as I live, I'll lay a trap for those Rats. But what's the matter now?

They hem.
Doll.

Nothing but the Neighbours Dogs.

Y. Simpl.

'Tis a thousand pities but such Curs were hang'd up presently.

Exit Simpl.
Doll.

Oh Gentlemen, I would you were out of the House; for I am afraid he will return again ere I can handsomely shut the door.

Y. Simpl. within.
[Page 106]

VVhy Doll, Doll!

Doll.

Come ye behind me presently; I pray dispatch.

Enter Young Simpleton.
Y. Simpl.

Doll, I have considered, that to set up my Trade is the way to get Victuals; and I want nothing of my Tools, but onely a pair of Bellows.

Doll.

Fear not, Husband, I have a little money that you know not of; and if I can but hear of a good bar­gain, I will not fail to buy a pair of Bellows.

Y. Simpl.

Oh thou pretty loving kinde Pigsnie! but what makes thee wear thy Coats of that fashion?

She spreads her Coats.
Doll.

Do not you know, Husband, it is the fashion [...] new-married VVives?

Y. Simpl.

Is it so? it is an excellent fashion in the Summer-time: but I'll go out, and return presently.

Exit Y. Simpl.
Doll.

VVhat will you do? 'tis ten to one he spies you, and then my reputation runs a hazard.

1 Gent.

Appoint what way you will, we are con­tented.

Doll.

I see him coming back; and truth to say, the course I shall advise, will seem a strange one, yet it must be: you know he did appoint that I should buy for him a pair of Bellows; now if you two can beat it lustily, and blow it strongly, this visit may be kept off from his know­ledge.

1 Gent.

Nay, any thing, good Doll; we cannot now be chusers.

Doll.

So, lie down: I'll fetch a Chafingdish of Char­coal hither, and practise you a while before he come.

Exit Doll.
1 Gent.

I have plaid many a mad prank in my Life, yet ne'er till now acted a pair of Bellows.

[Page 107]Enter Doll.
She practi­ses them.
Doll.

So, so, blow lustily, and fear not.

Enter Young Simpleton.
Y. Simpl.

VVife, I have considered with my self, that if we lay out all the mony in a pair of Bellows, we should have little or nothing left to buy Victuals.

Doll.

Oh Husband, you are deceived; for I have bought you a pair of Bellows, the whole Town shews not a neater.

Y. Simpl.

Is this a pair of Bellows? let me see, this is an a-la-moda pair of Bellows. But look you, Doll, when the Bellows-mender comes by, let him stop this hole here; for the winde comes out abominably. I'll call my Father Simpleton to see this pair of Bellows. Fa­ther, father, come hither.

Enter Old Simpleton.
Y. Simpl.

Did you ever see such a pair of Bellows as my VVife has bought?

O. Simpl.

A pair a Bellows, Son! Me-thinks this would serve better for an Anvil: Let's try how it will bear our stroaks.

Y. Simpl.

VVell, a match.

Exeunt.

The Humour of Bumpkin.

Argument needless,

It being a Thorow Farce, very well known.

Actors Names.
  • Actaeon,
  • three Huntsmen,
  • Bumpkin,
  • three Country Wenches.
Enter first Huntsman and Bumkin.
1 Hunt.

WHy, what's the matter?

Bumpkin.

Nay, I know not: but every day my great Guts and my small Guts make such a Combustion in my Belly as passes, and my Puddings (like Lances) run a-tilt at my heart, and make me as queasie-stomacht as a young Green-sickness Girl newly come to a Big-belly.

1 Hunt.

Canst thou not guess the reason of this trou­ble?

Bump.

Yes, I think I can, and I'll be judged by thee, if my case be not desperate; I have a horrible minde to be in love.

1 Hunt.

VVith whom?

Bump.

VVith any body; but I cannot finde out the way how to be in Love.

1 Hunt.

VVhy? I'll instruct thee: Canst thou be melancholy?

Bump.

Yes, as a Dog, or a Hog-louse: I could even finde in my heart to cry presently.

1 Hunt.
[Page 109]

Canst thou sleep well?

Bump.

I cannot tell, I never saw my self sleep.

1 Hunt.

Is't possible, that thou who hast so long been an attendant upon my Lord Actaeon, shouldst be to learn the way to be in love?

Bump.

I would it were not possible, on the condition thou wert hanged and quartered.

1 Hunt.
I thank you, Sir. But Bumpkin, list to me;
This day thou know'st the Maids and Young-men meet
To sport, and revel it about the May-pole;
Present thy self there; tell thy cause of grief;
And I dare warrant thee a Sweet-heart presently.
Bump.

If thou canst do that, I'll marry her first, and learn to love her afterwards.

1 Hunt.

Haste thither, Bumpkin; I'll go on before.

Exit.
Bump.

And I will follow thee a Dog-trot.

Is it not pity▪ that a Man of Authority as I am, having been chief Dog-keeper to my Lord Actaeon this five years, being a Man so comely of person, and having such a pure Complexion, that all fair Ladies may be ashamed to look on me, and that I should be distressed for a Sweet­heart? May-pole, I come;

And if the Wenches there encrease my pains,
And scorn to love, I'll beat out all their brains.
Exit.
Enter Huntsmen with three Country Wenches.
2 Co. Wench.

Is it possible, would Bumpkin be in love?

1 Hunt.
Yes, if he knew but how; and for that sickness
I have undertaken to become his Doctor:
For, at the May-pole-meeting 'tis decreed,
A Sweet-heart must be purchast, come what will on't.
3 Co. Wench.

Nay, if he be distressed, twenty to one he may finde charitable Persons there.

Come, strike up a Farewel to Misfortune.

[Page 110]Enter Bumpkin.
Bump.

That is a Dance that I could never hit of: pray desist a while, and hear my doleful Tale.

1 Co. Wench.

He'll make us cry sure.

Bump.

Be it known unto all men by these presents.

2 Co. Wench.

An Obligation? we will be no witnesses.

Bump.

Why then I'll hang my self.

3 Co. Wench.

VVe will be witness then.

Bump.

VVhat, to my hanging? O'my Conscience, if I should woo my heart out, I should never be the fat­ter for it.—VVhere's your promise now?

1 Hunt.

You have not yet exprest your self; be plain; tell them your grief, a remedy will follow.

Bump.

If that be all, 'tis but an easie matter; pray take notice that I am in love—with some body.

2 Co. Wench.

Would I were she!

Bump.

VVhy? so you are, if you have a minde to it.

2 Co. Wench.

Why then you are my own.

3 Co. Wench.

Pardon me, Sister, I bespake him yester­day.

They all hang about him. Goes to her.
Bump.

Yes marry did she.

1 Co. Wench.

But I was she that won him at the May­pole.

2 Co. Wench.

Was that the cause you strove so for the Garland?

Bump.

What's that to you?

Goes to her.

Would I had any one of them in quietness.

3 Co. VVench.

But yet I must have share.

1 Co. VVench.

So must I too.

All pull him.
2 Co. VVench.

I will not part without the better half.

Bump.

Then who shall have me whole? what, are you mad?

3 Co. VVench.

There's reason for a madness in this case.

1 Co. VVench.

I will not loose my right: Let go, I say.

2 Co. VVench.
[Page 111]

He shall be mine, or else he shall be nothing.

Bumpkin.
Away you Burrs, why do you stick thus on me?
Now by this hand, if nothing can perswade you,
I'll drown my self for spight, that you may perish.
(Horn.)
1 Hunt.
Hark, hark, my Lord Actaeons warning-piece;
That Horn gives us intelligence he does intend
To spend this day in hunting: Bumpkin, why stay you?
The hounds will quarrel with you: we'll come after.
1 Co. VVench.

Will you not stay, my Love?

Bump.

I'll see you hang'd first; and by this hand, ere I will be in love again, I will feed my hounds with my own proper carcase.

Exit.
2 Co. VVench.

Now he is gone, our dancing may go forward.

2 Hunt.

My Lord Actaeon stays; be quick, I pray.

3 Co. VVench.

Quick as you will; the doing of it quick, makes it shew the better.

A Country Dance, Then Exeunt.
Enter Actaeon and Bumpkin.
Actaeon.

Be nimble, Sirrah.

Bump.

Nimble? yes, as a Bear that hath been lug'd to purpose: if Love be such a troublesome Companion, I will entreat him to keep out of my company.

Actaeon.

VVe consume the day.

Bump.

They have saved me a labour.

Actaeon.
Fie, what mean you?
The glory of this day calls us to action.
1 Hunt.

Sir, you may please to know, that yesternight I lodged a Boar within the neighbouring Forest.

Bump.

Yes, Sir, and I lodged a Fox at a house hard by.

The Humours of Simpkin.

A continued Farce.

Actors Names.
  • Simpkin, a Clown:
  • Bluster,
  • a Roarer:
  • an old Man:
  • his Wife:
  • a Servant.
Enter the Wife, Simpkin following.
Wife.
BLind Cupid hath made my heart for to bleed:
Fa la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Simp.
But I know a man can help you at need:
With a fa la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la.
Wife.
My husband he often a hunting goes out:
Fa la, la, &c.
Simp.
And brings home a great pair of horns, there's no doubt:
With a fa la, la, la, &c.
VVife.
How is't, Monsieur Simpkin? why are you so sad?
Fa la, la, la, &c.
Simp.
I am up to the ears in love, and it makes me stark mad:
With a fa la, la, la, &c.
I am vext, I am tortur'd, and troubled at heart:
Fa la, la, &c.
VVife.
But I'll try my skill to take off your smart:
With a fa la, la, &c.
And on that condition I give you a kiss:
Fa la, la, &c.
Simp.
But what says your husband when he hears of this?
With a fa la, la, &c.
Wife.
[Page 113]
You know my affections, and no one knows more:
Fa, la, la, &c.
Knocks within.
Simp.
'Uds niggers noggers who knocks at the door?
With a fa, la, la, &c.
Enter Servant. The Tune alters.
Serv.
There is a Royster at the Door,
he seems a Fellow stout.
Simp.
I do beseech you, worthy Friend,
which is the back-way out?
Serv.
He swears and tears he will come in,
and nothing shall him hinder.
Exit Servant▪
Simp.
I fear he'll strip me out my skin,
and burn it into Tinder.
Wife.
I have consider'd of a way,
and 'twill be sure the best.
Simp.

What may it be, my dearest Dear?

Wife.
Creep into this same Chest.
A Chest set out.
And though he roar, speak you no word,
if you'll preserve my favour.
Simp.
Shut to the Chest, I pray, with speed;
for something has some savour.
Enter Bluster.
Blust.
I never shall be quiet if
she use me in this fashion.
Wife.
I am here to bid you welcome;
what mean you by this passion?
Blust.
With some young sweet-fac'd Fellow,
I thought gone out you were.
Simp. in the Chest.
No sooth, the sweet-fac'd Fellow
is kept a Prisoner here.
Blust.
Where is the Fool thy Husband?
say, whither is he gone?
Wife.

The Wittal is a hunting.

Blust.
Then we two are alone.
[Page 114]But should he come, and finde me here, what might the Cuckold think?
Perhaps he'd call the Neighbours in.
Simp.

And beat you till you stink.

Blust.

Yet in the bloody War full oft, my courage I did try.

Wife.

I know you have kill'd many a man.

Simp.

You lye, you Slut, you lye.

Blust.
I never came before a Foe,
By night nor yet by day,
But that I stoutly rouz'd my self.
Simp.

And nimbly ran away.

Blust.

Within this Chest I'll hide my self, if it chance he should come.

Wife.

O no, my Love, that cannot be.

Simp.

I have bespoke the room.

Wife.

I have a place behinde here, which yet is known to no man.

Simp.

She has a place before too, but that is all too common.

Old Man within.
Old Man.

Wife, wherefore is the door thus barr'd? what mean you, pray, by this?

Wife.

Alas, it is my Husband.

Simp.

I laugh now till I piss.

Blust.

Open the Chest, I'll into it, my Life else it may cost.

Wife.

Alas, I cannot open it.

Simp.

I believe the Key is lost.

VVife.

I have bethought my self upon a dainty trick.

Blust.
What may it be, my dearest Love?
I prethee now be quick.
VVife.
You must say that your Enemy into this house is fled;
And that your heart can take no rest until that he be dead.
[Page 115]Draw quickly out your furious Blade, and seem to make a strife:
Swear all th' excuses can be made, shall not preserve his Life.
Say that the Rogue is fled in here, that stole away your Coin;
And if I'll not deliver him, you'll have as much of mine.
Blust.

Here's no man but my self, on whom shall I complain?

VVife.
This great fool does not understand, this thing you must but seign.
My husband thus must be deceiv'd, and afterwards we'll laugh.
Enter Old Man.
Old Man.
Wife, since you will not ope the Door,
I'll break't ope with my staff.
Blust.

Good woman shew me to the Slave, his limbs I strait will tear.

VVife.

By all the honesty I have, there's no man came in here▪

Blust.
VVhen I have fought to purchase wealth, and with my blood did win it,
This Rogue has got my purse by stealth.
Simp.

But never a peny in it.

Old Man.

She's big with Childe, therefore take heed you do not fright my wife.

Blust.

But know you who the Father is?

Simp.

The Roarer, on my Life.

Old Man.

She knows not of your enemy, then get you gone you were best.

VVife.
Peace, husband, peace; I tell you true▪
I have hid him in the Chest.
Old Man.

I am glad on't at my heart, but do not tell him so.

VVife.
[Page 116]

I would not for a thousand pound the Roarer should it know.

Blust.
VVhen next we meet, his life is gone, no other must he hope;
I'll kill him whatsoere comes on't.
Simp.

Pray think upon a Rope.

Old Man.

VVhat kinde of person is it then, that in the Chest doth lie?

VVife.

A goodly handsome sweet young man, as ere was seen with eye.

Old Man.
Then let us both entreat of him—
Pray put us not in fear:
VVe do beseech you go from hence.
Blust.

But tomorrow I'll be here.

Exit Blust.
Old Man.
VVife, run with all the speed you can, and quickly shut the door;
I would not that the roaring Man should come in any more.
Mean time I will release the youth, and tell him how we have sped—
Be comforted my honest friend.
Simpkin comes forth.
Simp.
Alas, I'm almost dead.
My heart is tortur'd in my breast, with sorrow, fear and pain.
Old Man.

I'll fetch some Aqua vitae, to comfort you again.

Simp.
And 'cause I will require you, whose love doth so excel,
I'll graft a pair of horns on your head▪ that may defend it well.
VVife.

Good husband, let the man stay here, 'tis dangerous in the street.

Old Man.
I would not for a Crown of Gold the Roarer should him meet.
For should he come by any harm, they'd say the fault were mine.
VVife to Simp.
[Page 117]

There's half a crown, pray send him out to fetch a quart of wine.

Simp.

There's money for you, Sir,—pray fetch a quart of Sack.

Old Man.
'Tis well, 'tis well, my honest friend,
I'll see you shall not lack.
VVife.

But if he should dishonest me, for there are such slippery men.

Old Man.

Then he gets not of his half crown, one peny back agen.

Exit.
Simp.
Thy husband being gone, my Love, we'll sin [...] we'll dance and laugh:
I am sure he's a good fellow, and takes delight to quaff.
VVife.

I'll fold thee in my arms, my Love, no matter for his listning.

The old man and his servant listen.
Simpl.

Gentlemen, some forty weeks hence you may come to a Christning.

Old Man.
O Sirrah, have I caught you? now do the best you can;
Your School-master ne'er taught you to wrong an honest man.
Simp.
Good Sir, I never went to school, then why am I abused?
The truth is, I am but a Fool, and like a Fool am used.
Old Man.

Yet Sirrah you had wit enough to think to Cuckold me.

VVife.

I jested with him, husband, his knavery to see.

Simp.
But now you talk of knavery,
I pray where is my sack?
Old Man.

You shall want it in your belly, Sir, and have it on your back.

They beat him off. Exeunt.

The Humour of Hobbinal.

Argument is needless,

Onely the Drollery taken out.

Actors Names.
  • Hobbinal,
  • Dorilas,
  • Strephon,
  • Oenone, &
  • two or three Nymphs.
Enter Dorilas, Strephon spying Hobbinal reading.
Dor.

WHat Paper is that he ruminates upon? Let us observe a little.

Hob.

'Tis a strange thing I finde my self out every day more then other, to be one of the un­derstanding'st, sweetest, neatest, and compleatest Shep­herds that ever took hook in hand. T'other day I saw my face in a pail of water, and I had much ado to forbear drowing of my self. 'Tis no wonder then, that the beau­teous Nymph Oenone makes much of me, and lets all the other Shepherds shake their Ears like Asses: and the truth is, if I can finde never a handsomer, she shall serve the turn. This was her birth-day, she being born in the year—one thousand six hundred,—nay hold a little: but on this day of the moneth it was, VVinter or Summer, in the honour of which we all keep holiday: and therefore for the credit of her beauty, and the ho­nour of my own Poetry, I have made such a Copy of Ver­ses on her, as will make her a thousand times handsomer then ever she was in her Life.

[Page 119]I will peruse them now with the eyes of understan­ding.

He reads▪
OEnone fair, whose beauty does enrich us,
Tell me the cause why thou dost so bewitch us.
On this day thou wert born, though not begotten;
This day I'll think on when thou art dead and rotten.
And though thy coyness, and thy pretty scorn,
Makes many wish that thou hadst ne'er been born;
Yet for my own part, this I'll swear and say,
I wish thy time of birth were every day.

If she do not run mad for love of me now, 'tis pity she should have Verses made on her as long as she lives.

Streph.

Let's interrupt him.—Hobbinal, well met.

Hob.

It may be so.

Dor.

But why so strange, man? I hope you will re­member we are your fellow-Shepherds.

Hob.

You were once: but now I command you to know, I am a Master-Shepherd; for the fair Nymph Oenone, that makes all your mouths run over with water, does acknowledge me to be both Master and Mistress.

Streph.

In part 'tis true: yet if you well consider, she makes you but her sport; no otherwise.

Hob.

If she make me her sport, 'tis more then ever she can make of thee: for thou art one of the sowrest lookt fellows that ever crept out of a Vinegar-bottle.

Enter Oenone.
Dor.

Here comes the fairest Idae ever nourisht.

Hob.

Now will I see who is the most deserving Shep­herd in all the Vale of Idae.—Little Rogue, how dost thou?

Oenone.

O Hobbinal, you are welcome; I thought you had forgot me: you are my sport, and should be ever near me.

Hob.
[Page 120]

Look you there, I am her sport, she says: when will she give any of you such an honourable Title? but Sport, I do not think but thou art a Conjurer, or a VVitch, or a Devil at least: for thou hast insused such a combustion of Poetry in my head, that I fear I shall ne­ver be my own Man agen, nor my Master's neither.—There's a Copy of Verses, read 'em: nay, they are my own, as sure as my name 's Hobbinal.

Oenone.

I thank you, Sport: I'll study a requital.

Dor.

Honour me with your fair hand, Nymph, that I may lead the way to all those pastimes which will follow.

Oenone.

The honour is to me, and I accept it.

Hob.

I'd laugh at that: no, Sport, I'll dance with thee my self.

Oenone.

Some other time by chance I may be at leisure.

Hob.

VVill you not? VVell, by this hand then I'll stand out, and laugh at every thing you do, right or wrong.

A Dance.
Pshaw waw, this dancing is like my Mothers Mares trot:
Sport, shall I shew thee a Dance of my own fashion?
Oenone.

It cannot but content.

Hob.

Nay, I know that: hark hither, Lads.

Ex. Hob. Str.
Hobbinal and the shepherds dance a Morris.
Hob.

How like you this Sport?

Oenone.

Beyond Expression, Sport: I see your Ver­tues were concealed too long.

Hob.

I, so they were; but I mean to shew them every day as fast as I can. But Sirrah, Sport, yonder's god Pan with a company of the bravest Satyrs that ever wore horns on their heads: come, Shepherds, let's go make them drunk, and saw off all their horns.

Exeunt.

The Humour of Iohn Swabber.

Argument needless,

It being an ancient Farce, and generally known.

Actors Names.
  • Francisco and Gerard,
  • Iohn Swabber,
  • Cutbeard a Barber,
  • Parnel,
  • Swabber's wife, and
  • two or three Neighbours wives.
Enter Francisco and Gerard.
Fran.

HEreabout I am to meet this Hercules; and see, he's come.

Enter John Swabber armed with several ridiculous Weapons.

Well, Iohn, I see you are prepar'd for murder: have mercy on the Barber, I say.

Swab.

No, I scorn it; I will have no mercy: he has made a whore of a wondrous honest woman; and a Cuckold of one, that for ought I know, might have been a Courtier. For which abominable deed, I scorn to shew my self a Christian; for I do mean to use him worse then a Jew would.

Fran.

Nay, but consider, he's a man howe'er, and you can boast your self to be no more, although you have the spirit of a Giant: you have brought weapons here, as if you meant to kill him twenty times. Troth 'tis too much.

Swab.

If I bate him an Ace of forty, call me Cox­comb: [Page 122] I will draw his teeth one by one, with an instru­ment called a pair of Tongs, then let him blood in the right vein, and bid the Devil take him at his own peril.

Fran.

Let me prevail with thee to calm thy rage, and take acquaintance of this Gentleman, a worthy friend of mine.

Swab.

Do you long to be acquainted with me, Sir?

Ger.

By any means, Sir.

Swab.

'Tis granted then: I'll toss a Can or a Pot with you as soon as I have dispatcht this bawdy Barber; would he were dead, that my business might be over.

Ger.

What's your profession, Sir? and how may I call you?

Swab.

I am a Sea-man, Sir; my name's Iohn Swab­ber:—an Officer of the Ship, Sir.

Ger.

I cry you mercy, Sir.

Swab.

Nay, never cry for the matter.—But I had forgot this Barber all this while. Barber, come forth; or by the beard of my great Grandfather, I swear, I will so shashado, mashado, pashado, and carbinado thee, that thou shalt look like a Gallimafry all the days of thy Life. Come forth, I say.

Cutbeard within.

Why Neighbour Swabber, who pro­vokes you thus? what do you mean? who has offended you?

Swab.

O Slave of all Slaves! who has offended me? why thou base, beastly, boisterous, Babylonian, bawdy-fac'd Barber, thou hast: thou hast made me fit to chew the cud with Oxen, climb the mountains with wild Goats, and keep company with none but Ram-headed people: for which I will tie thee up on the next Signe­post, and there thou shalt hang a twelvemoneth and a day alive, for an example to all such notable shavers; but if thou comest and submittest to my mercy, I will do thee the favour to let thee hang till thou be dead.

Ger.
[Page 123]

Francisco, hark:—I'll pawn my Life this fel­low is a rank Coward: keep you his fury up, and I'll perswade the Barber to a greater vein of roaring then ere was practised by a suburb-Blade: I'll make him at the least seem valiant; fear not.

Exit.
Fran.

Do, if it be possible; I'll hold him in discourse.—But, Mr. Swabber, what think you if he does compound with you? will you be won to take an arm or two, or both his legs, and save his other members?

Swab.

Pish, tell not me, 'tis neither his arms nor his legs that I stand upon; he has caused me to go in danger of my Life: for the other day I had an occasion to pass by a worshipful Gentleman's pack of Hounds, they no sooner looked upon my forehead, but they came at me in full cry; and I for fear left such a sent behind me, that they came after me as perfectly by it, as if I had been a Stagg; and if I had not got shelter of a house, without doubt I had been presented to some great man for Venison, and my Hanches had been baked by this time.

Fran.

You were in danger there, I must confess.

Swab.

And the Butchers Dogs still take me for a Bull, and fetch such courses at me; and all this the Barber is the cause of.

Fran.

I would revenge it: were I as you, he should not have a tool left him to work with.

Swab.

No, nor to play with neither: I will have an inch of every tool he has.—Barber, come forth, and let me kill thee upon fair terms; or else I mill enter thy house by force, pitch thee down the stairs, and send thee of an Errand headlong: and if thou dost submit to my mercy, I will shave thee to death with thy own Rasor: therefore take heed.—So, now let him come if he dare.

Enter Gerard.
Ger.

VVell, now I see there is no hope to appease [Page 124] him: blood must ensue, and death will take its course.

Swab.

VVith whom? what's the matter?

Ger.

The Barber is preparing for the combat: he has took his pole to serve him for a lance, and one of his ba­sons for a buckler, and vows to make you the wind-mill, whilst he plays Don Quixot against you furiously.

Swab.

A wind-mill!—I'll be gone.

Fran.

You will not offer that, sure. VVhat afraid?

Swab.

VVould it not make any one tremble with the thought on't, first to be made a Cuckold, then a wind­mill? No, I will be gone, and come agen to kill him when I can finde him in a better humour.

Fran.

Consider what you do; he'll call you Coward, proclaim you Cuckold still in every Ale-house; and what disgrace will that be?

Swab.

I care not: 'tis better to be a Cuckold then a wind-mill. If he had meant to make a Fool, a Puppy, or an Asse of me, or any such Christian-like Creature, 'twere another matter: but to be made a wind-mill of, and ne­ver to be respected but when the wind blows, is not to be endured: therefore let him make wind-mills of my weapons, if he will; for my own part, I will defend my self with my heels.

Throws down his weapons.
Ger.

Come, I have brought him to a better temper: he will come armed with nothing but a Razor; with which if he does s [...]it your wezand-pipe, it will not be a­miss to take it patiently.

Swab.

Let him not spoile my drinking, and I care not: but hark you, if you should let him hurt me, I should be as angry as a Tygre.

Enter Cutbeard with a Razor.
Cut.

VVhere is this Slave that has provoked my rage to his destruction? I will swinge this Boor, then hang him up for Bacon in my chimney, and send him to be broyled for Pluto's breakfast.

Swab.
[Page 125]

VVhy this is worse then to be made a wind­mill. Do you hear, Sir? if ever you had the fit of an Ague upon you, or ever knew the trembling of a Man troubled in Conscience, that would be loath to die till he had made even with all the world, consider me. Alas, Sir, I have my Rent to pay yet; and if I should be sent to Hell of an Errand, they'll like my company so well, I should never come back agen: pray perswade him to send me to Ierusalem, Iericho, or any of those places nearer hand.

Fran.

VVhy, canst not thou excuse thy self? where's thy brains?

Swab.

Alas, my brains are fallen into my breeches; but if you'll stand between me and harm, I'll venture to reconcile my self to him.—Cut.—honest Cutbeard, didst not thou think I was in earnest all this while?

Cut.

VVhatere thou wert, thou shalt be nothing pre­sently: Death waits for thee: come quickly, I command thee.

Swab.

Sir, pray perswade Mr. Death to have patience for a matter of 40 or 50 years more: for I have a great deal of business to do in this world yet.

Cut.

Shall I be dallied with? let me approach him: for all the intreaties of the world shall not preserve him past six minutes.

Swab.

One minute is past already,—and there's two.

Fran.

Nay, prethee Cutbeard be more merciful.

Swab.

Three—four—five.

Ger.

VVill no entreaty serve? Then take your course.

Swab.

Six. O now I am gone.

Cut.

If he submit, he may live: let him know it.—Dost thou acknowledge thy own Cowardize, and my heroick Valour?

Swab.

O mighty Hercules, I confess my self a Pigmy, [Page 126] and I will never think otherwise while I live, these Gen­tlemen be my witnesses.

Ger.

VVhy then all is well a gen.—Remember, Cut­beard.

Cut.

I'll spice him, fear not.—Give me thy hand,

Iack:

Thus do I grasp thy friendship.

Swab.

He grasps my hand devillish hard tho.

Cut.

I here pronounce thy wife to be a Venus.

Swab.

O rare! is my wife a Venus? That's more then ever I knew before: why then I will be her hus­band Cupid.

Fran.

No, Cupid was her Son.

Swab.

'Tis no matter for that, he shall be her husband for once; and we two will get such abundance of young Cupids, that we'll make all the world in love with one another.

Cut.

Since we are reconciled, know, honest Swabber, that I will make the whole world dote on thee: I'll wash thy face, and powder thee to the purpose, and shave thee if thou wilt too.

Swab.

No, by no means: I dare not venture my throat under thy Fingers: but for washing and powdring, that all the world may be in love with me, I am content.

Cut.

Sit down then in this Chair, look on this pow­der, the snow is nothing to it; 'twill create such a com­plexion on thee, that no Art did ever set upon the proud­est Lady.

Swab.

But hark you, Cutbeard, how shall I do to sa­tisfie all the women that will follow me for kisses? if you make me too beautiful, my lips will be worn thread­bare before I can get home; and then Parnel my own dear wife, will have the least share of her own sweet husband.

Cut.

For that we'll take a course—wink, wink, good Iack; my Ball will search your eyes else.

Swab.
[Page 127]

My eyes are honest, and fear no searching.

Changes the Powder, and blacks his face all over.
Cut.

Now I begin to sprucifie thy phisnomy:—This powder was extracted from the Phoenix, when she last burnt her self, and is indeed the quintessence of odours.

Swab.

Nay, 'tis as odious as ever I smelt, that is cer­tain: good Cutbeard, let me have enough, I prethee.

Cut.

Nay, I will spare no cost:—Judge, Gentlemen, is he not strangely altered?

Ger.

Past belief: I would not that my Mistress saw him now, my hopes would soon be cooled then.

Swab.

I think so: but I would have you to take no­tice, I will have nothing to do but with great personages; for I must not make my self common.

Fran.

VVhat this fellow will come to, no man knows yet; his fame no doubt will travel over all Countries, and I am fully resolved in my Opinion, the Queen of Mauritania will run mad for him.

Swab.

If she run as mad as a March-Hare, she gets not a bit: no, Parnel and my Neighbours shall have all.

Cut.

Now if the Painters will draw Adonis our, let them come here for Copies. So, I have done.

Swab.

Prethee Cutbeard, lend me a Looking-glass.

Cut.

By no means: what, did you never hear of one Narcissus, how he pined away for love of his own sha­dow? No, go home, your house is hard by; let Par­nel see you, and bless her self with wonder.

Swab.

Honest Cutbeard, this Gentleman is a worthy friend of mine; prethee bestow some of the same pow­der upon his face.

Fran.

No, no, you shall be beautiful alone; 'tis best.

Swab.
Parnel, I come; and if thou beest not stupid,
Thou ' [...]t say Iack Swabber is a kin to Cupid.
Exit.
Ger.

VVell, Cutbeard, thou hast drest him hand­somely: [Page 128] I would give a Crown that I were by when first he finds what beauty he is adorned withal.

Cut.

This day I am to meet with pretty Parnel; pray Heaven the Fool be absent when I come: some two hours hence, if you will meet me, Gentlemen, I will tell you how he takes his transmigration.

Fran.

We will not fail. Farewel.

Exeunt.
Enter Parnel.
Parn.

I wonder that my Barber stays thus long: can he neglect me thus? Well, I will fit him; for if he use me once agen thus basely, I will cashier him, and bestow my love upon some one more constant: forty to one but Swabber comes before him, and spoils all.

Enter Swabber very stately.

Who's this, in the name of blackness? the cloaths and walk of my dear husband, and I will lay my life he has got a Vizard on.—Nay pray now, indeed you'll fright me presently; take heed.

Swab.

She does not know me, that's excellent.—Parnel, believe it, I am flesh and blood; I would not have thee take me for a Goddess.

Parn.

A Goddess, quotha! a black one, if you be one: what hast thou got upon thy face, I prethee?

Swab.

Do not look too wistfully upon me, Parnel; my beauty will put your eyes out if you do, and then I must be at the charge of a Dog and a Bell for you.

Parn.

A Dog and a fools head! pull off your Vizard.

Swab.

Do not touch me, unless you make forty curtsies first. Come, kiss me, and thou wilt be out of thy wits presently.

Parn.

Nay, then I see 'tis a trick put upon him; I'll fetch you a glass, you shall behold your beauty.

Exit.
Swab.

Do, and I will venture to be in love with my self for once. How shall I require honest Cutbeard? [Page 129] By this hand he shall have the honour to be Barber to all my Wenches.

Enter Parnel with a Glass.
Parn.

Are you not wondrous fair? Look and admire your self.

Swab.

O Parnel, Parnel, I am gull'd most basely; I have not half so much beauty as a Chimney-sweeper: I will kill the Barber the first thing I do.

Parn.

Was it the Barber used thee thus?

Swab.

I▪ Parnel, 'twas he: I'll go fetch a company of my Fellow-saylors, drag him out, and hang him up at the main-Yard presently. Parnel, farewel: if I be appre­hended for the death of Cutbeard, whatever thou dost, send me a clean shirt; for I shall have need on't.

Exit.
Parn.

Well, Cutbeard, I commend thee for this pro­ject; thou hast drest him handsomely: would thou wert here, I would kiss thee for the Jests sake.

Enter Cutbeard.

Oh are you come, Sir?

Cut.

I watch [...] the time, my Parnel, and have found it: how does the Gull become his feathers? Ha!

Parn.

As I would have him: Oh Cutbeard, this Kiss, and this, for the device.

Cut.

Where is he, Parnel?

Parn.

Why gone abroad in his new-fashion'd face, to fetch a gang of Saylors, who he vows shall hang thee up at the main-Yard, and shall use thee worse then the Prentices a Suburb-bawd on a Shrove-tuesday.

Cut.

And those same Water-rats are devillish things: what a Slave was I to use him so?

Parn.

What canst thou fear when I am in thy pre­sence? Away, you Milk-sop, hence from me, [...]ayant.

Cut.

Nay, gentle Parnel, by this hand I will fight with a whole Army, if thou sayst the word: prethee be recon­ciled.

Swab. within.
[Page 130]

Why Parnel, Parnel! here's thy own sweet husband; open the door, dear Wife.

Parn.

O me, my husband's come; what shall I do?

Cut.

Let me into the Well, if thou thinkest good; or hang me in the Chimney 'stead of Bacon.

Parn.

Alas, that's full of hazard:—No device!

Swab. within.

Why huswife, huswife, must I wait half a day?

Parn.

My Peticoat's faln off; but I come presently.—Oh I have thought, come hither, put on this Biggin, I made it for my Childe that is at Nurse, and cram thy self into this Cradle here: there is no other way, therefore dispatch.

Cut.

O me! thou never thinkest upon my beard; that will betray all presently.

A cradle set forth.
Parn.

Take you no care, I'll make him to believe you were born with it; be quick, I say.

Cut.

Necessity compels me: send me off of this brunt once, I'll hunt the smock no more.—Cover me close, good Parnel.

Parn.

So, keep you close; and when he prattles to you, snee [...]e in his face, and call him Dad; do you hear?

Parnel l [...]ts him in. Enter Swabber?
Swab.

Why you proud, peevish, petty, paltry Parnel, why did you make me stay so long?

Parn.

I made what haste I could, but the Childe cry­ed so.

Swab.

The Childe! what Childe? Have you got Ba­stards here?

Parn.

Bastards? they are your own then: Simon's come home, the Boy I had a twelvemoneth since by you: he was born when you were at Sea.

Swab.

Is he brought home? As I am an honest man I am glad on't. Let me see him, Parnel.

Parn.

Look here he is; the goodliest Boy, and even [Page 131] as like thee, Iohn, as if thou hadst begot him all thy self.

Swab.

Whoop! here's a Boy of a twelvemoneth old: if he grow but thus much this next year, he'll be able to fight with a Giant presently. But Parnel, he has got a great beard too, how comes that?

Parn.

VVhy he was born with it: many children are so; and 'tis a signe he will be a man betimes, a wise dis­creet one too.

Cut.

Dad, dad, dad!

Swab.

Nay, 'tis a wise Childe, I perceive that; for he calls me Dad at first sight. Good Parnel, fetch me some Milk for him; I will see him eat.

Parn.

He had Milk but just now: prethee, Iohn, be patient.

Swab.

You are a Fool, he has been starv'd at Nurse, and we must make him fat. Fetch some, I say.

Parn.

I will not, truly Iohn, you will spoile the Childe.

Swab.

I saw some stand in the next room, I will fetch it my self, so I will.

Exit.
Parn.

VVhat will you do? you must endure with pa­tience; I mingled batter but just now for pancakes, and that he'll bring, as certain as I live.

Cut.

I shall be cram'd to death: mercy upon me.

Parn.

He comes, lie close agen.

Enter Swabber with a great Bowl of Batter, and a Ladle.
Cut.

Dad, dad, dad!

Swab.

I, mine own Boy, here's Milk for thee, Simon.

Throws it in by Ladles f [...]ll.

Look, Parnel, look how greedily he eats it.

Parn.

Now fie upon you, Iohn, you will choak the Childe.

Swab.
[Page 132]

I mean to make him grow as high as Pauls▪ and shew him for a wonder in Bartholomew Fayr. Fetch me some Milk, this is all gone.

Parn.

VVhat, do you think I will murder the poor Infant?

Swab.

By this hand I will go to the Milk-woman and fetch him a whole gallon.

Exit.
Parn.

Up quickly, and be gone; for when he comes, he will choak you without fail.

Cut.

A pox upon him, never was Childe fed thus. But what will you do now?

Parn.

Do not you fear; I'll fetch my own Childe; 'tis at a Neighbours house, and say the Fairies have ex­chang'd it.

Cut.

Send thee good luck: Farewel, sweet Parnel.

Exit.
Parnel fetches a little childe, and lays it in the cradle.
Parn.

So, if this Childe will serve him for a Simon, all will be well agen.

Enter Swabber with more Milk.

He comes.—Oh Iohn.

Swab.

Come, give me Simon on my Lap; I will feed him till his Guts crack agen.

Parn.

Alas, I went but in the next room, and in the mean time the Fairies have exchanged him; look what a little thing they have left in his place.

Swab.

I will have none on't: go, fetch me Simon; and tell the Fairies I will indi [...]e them at the Sessions for this. Oh Simon, Simon, what is become of thee?

Parn.

Nay, prethee take not on so.

Swab.

The goodliest Boy of his age that ever man saw. Pshaw, this has ne'er a beard: I will have none on't.

[Page 133]Enter Francisco, Gerard, Cutbeard, Neighbours Wives.
Fran.

VVhy how now, Iack? what, in a passion? Ha, 'twas I that blackt thy face to day for mirth sake, and thou didst think it was Cutbeard.

Swab.

I care not for my face; Simon is gone, that had a beard as big as Cutbeard's here: the Fairies have exchanged him, and look what a Chitty-face they have left in his room; a thing of nothing for him.

Ger.

Come, you must use this they have left with courtesie, for they will whip Simon every day in the week else: I know the nature of them.

Swab.

VVill they so? Nay, then I must make much on't.

Fran.

And now you must be friends with Cutbeard too.

Swab.

VVith all my heart; for I am angry with none but the Fairies now.

Ger.

VVe have brought Musick, and some Neigh­bours with us, and mean to have a Dance. Come, Iohn.

Swab.

I can dance nothing but a melancholy Dance: for I am in a grievous dump for Simon still.

Ger.

I warrant thee. Strike up there.

A Dance.
Fran.

VVhy that's well done: no time is counted lost,

VVhere civil Mirth is gain'd with such small cost.

Exeunt.

The Humours of Monsieur Galliard.

ARGUMENT.

He undertakes with the Foot, to correct State-matters, and teach the Subjects Reverence and Obedience to their King.

Persons Names.
  • Galliard,
  • Sir William,
  • Mr. Newman,
  • Manly, Lady,
  • Mrs. Luce.
Enter Sir William, Mr. Newman, Monsieur Galliard.
Gall.

ME be content to have de litel patience, and be my trot, me tel you, vat me have seen a to day, de fine sport in de Varle: me come into de Great Man to day, me make de reverence Alamode, come ill faut, and he make me de strange a Sir-reverence de tird time, dat ever you saw.

Newm.

Oh Monsieur, every Man has not the activity of your feet.

Gall.

By my fat, tis very estrange a ding, dat dey vil suffer a des Men to be neere a de King, a de Queene, de Prince, or de Princess, dey vil marra de understanding very mush.

Sir Will.

Why Monsieur, that lies at the other end.

Gall.

Be gar you shall excuse a me, for de Conrtier Alamode dere de vit lie in de foot; be gar dere is no bo­dy can be Eiseman, dat does not make a de most excel­lent [Page 135] reverence, dat is most certain, dat is de best ting in de hole Varle.

Newm.

But do you think Caesar, or most of the Em­perours or Worthies of the world, studied the Liberal Science of the Foot, or puissant Toe?

Gar.

No; but be gar dat make dem dy all unfortu­nate: for if dey had tink but de reverence, dey might a live a great a vile.

Newm.

I confess the wisdome of it, Sir; but for the wit, do you think that lies there?

Gall.

Dat be de best vit can be possible: for your vit, vat is your vit? Your vit is to break a de jeast; vel, look you now a me, me vil break a de jeast: Dat is like dat a me Lor, dat is like a de Knight, dat is like dat a de Jentilman: Ha, ha, ha! dere is now one, two, tre very good jeast datmake a me sick wide laugh; and be gar me vil make a de Page, de Lacquey, and all de foole in de Court, break ades very good jeast, very quickly, dat is nothing.

Shews seve­ral mimical postures.
Sir Will.

To any purpose.

Gall.

Be my trot me speak a to de King, and to de Queen to give me a Patten, dat none shall teach a de Aldermen to make a de Reverence but my self; and me vil undertake dat vit in one 12 a mont: but den dey must do noting else, dey shall make a de Reverence, vit de Aldermen in de Paris, and dance a Coran, a Cere­bran, a Mountague, and dat vil be very brave.

Newm.

But what shall business do in the mean time, Monsieur?

Gall.

Is not dis very great a business? Nay be gar, me vil undertake to de King, and to de Queene, to make a my Lor Maire, de Sheriffe and de Aldermen very fine a mask.

Sir Will.

And to write it, Monsieur.

Gall.
[Page 136]

Aw, de write? dat is nothing alamode, your speesh two, tre yard long, pshaw? Give a me de quick a Spirit, de Fancie, de brave Scene, de varietie of de Antimask, de nimble a Foot, no matter de sense, begar it vole be de brave ting in de Christian varle.

Sir Will.

There is no question to be made.

Gall.

And be my trot, if me have anoder Patten for de Councel learned in de Law, for to teash dem de re­verence, dat vil be very great vark; but my diligence and skil in dat matre, have no despair to effect in time dis great benefit, and dat vil make a de Law flourish, and Englan a brave Englan begar.

Sir Will.

But what will you look for now for your pains, Monsieur? that is considerable.

Gall.

Begar me look for very mush; for 'tis mush pain, and 'tis brave ting: beside, me look for a Statur of de brass in de Palace-yard, ven me go out of dis varle.

Sir Will.

You will deserve it as a rare Patriot. But what manner of Reverence would you have the Lawyers to imitate? you must consider their Gravity.

Gall.

Observe a me.

Newman.

Such a Reverence under your favour would not become.

Gall.

Begar you no understand a de matre, vere is your brain? dere is no­ting in de varle like a dat motion, for de Jentilman, and for de Jentilvoman.

Shews them the Reverence.
Sir Will.

Yes, by your leave, Sir, there is somthing else that is as good for them.

Gall.

I vil tell you now, begar, here is a de Kinsman dat is a me, and he live here very mush time, before he come, dey vent in vid deire Toes, and hold deire Cloak in Stadere, and de Hat so. Fie, a la diable! and now dey valk vid deire Toes out for brave Genty, you call dat a de splay-foot: but me vonder dat de Lady no [Page 137] come, begar me no use to dis patience, and de vait: pray tell you Madam dat me have autre business vid de Lor, and de autre Lady have de use of my foot begar.

Newm.

Oh Monsieur, by no means: Sir William, let us prevail.

Gall.

'Tis no good you hold a me begar: me no stay two minutes to save a your soul, dat is de resolution of de Cavalier de France

Exit.
Sir Will.

Would any man believe there should be so much folly in this Cubit-square?

Newm.

Do you think he is a French Dancer? Let that answer you.

Exeunt.
Enter Mris. Lucie, Galliard, and Simpleton.
Mris. Lucie.

Monsieur Galliard, my Lady expects you.

Galliard.

Begar me no lik adat reverence, me vill change a dat.

Luce.

'Tis the French Fashion, as you taught me, Monsieur.

Gall.

Ouy, 'tis de French Fashion, but de French Fa­shion is always to change, and dis reverence displease a me very mush, because you go back, back vid your but­tock, as if some vod take you by dat, to vat me vill give a no name.

Simpl.

Sweet Mris. Lucy.

Gall.

Dat de reverence is no good of de man, me must change dat too: be me trot me doubt dat dis great business vill almost break a my brain, dis great work, and before a Masque of de King and de Queen. Me can eat a no meat, no drink, no sleep, and me grow so very a lean vid de Contemplation, a so much be my trot de Privie Councel is no so mush troubled as me be vid dis: Oh te Diable! deirs is noting, dey fit all de vile dey do [Page 138] deir business: me bissey bote head and de foot cap a pie, in de French tune, and dat is great matre begar.

Mris. Lucy.

You esteem it highly, Monsieur.

Gall.

Me tell you, and me tell you no tale, 'Tis great matre to make a de Lor, to make a de

Enter Sir William.

Lady, to make a de Jentilman, to make a de Jentilwoman, and de autre man to dance, and to make a de boon reverence, for begar dat vil make a de King de great King in de Varle.

Sir Will.

How can that be, Sir?

Gall.

Me tell you, ven dey are so bissey to learn a de dance, dey vill never tinke of de Rebellion, and den de reverence is obedience to Monarchy, and begar obedi­ence is ale de ting in de Varle.

Sir Will.

But what Musick would you govern the people by?

Gall.

Begar by de best French Fiddles can be got.

Sir Will.

What think you of an Irish Harp, a State-Organ, or a Passionate voice to a Lovers Lute?

Gall.

Des dull tings make a de men melancholique, and den dey tinke on de Devil, and de Treason, and do any ting dat is no good; but begar des French Fiddles do fiddle all des tings out of deit head, vid such a jerk as ma [...]oy make a dem so phantasticall, and make a dem as good subject as any is in de France, begar. Here be one of my Colliers, Monsieur Simpleton, Say you no dat de French Fiddle make a de brave Government in a de Varle?

Simpleton.

I say any thing becomes a Gentleman.

Gall.

Observe you dat? he have been but two tree mont, and he say any ting dat is brave. He have de grand understanding in de foot. Tell a me ven you hear a de littel fiddel vat is your tink? is your head no free from de Treason, and de plot of de Rebel as your leg? begar you no stand upon de ground for joy of de [Page 139] Coran, de Cerebran, de Marquess, de Montague, ha! Me be your humble servant Madam.

Enter Lady and Lucy.

and stay one two tree hours.

Lady.

I am now ready for you Monsieur. Come Lucy, the practice of the last he taught us.

Gall.

Wat Antique be dis?

Dance, Monsteur singing.
Enter Manley.
Simpleton.

Monsieur, ask that May-pole and he can dance.

Gall.

Plait il Monsieur, a la Galliard de Coran, la Princess, le Buckingham, heigh?

Manley.

Put up your rosin and your Cats-guts pre­sently, and be gone, or I shall find a grave for you in the pocket of my sleeve, and this shall be your winding sheet.

Gall.

Me no play dat lesson: Pocket de sleeve? dat is no tune de France: pocket, le grand pock—Pardon­ne moy Monsieur: Me put up my offers to strike him Fiddel and be gone. Adieu Madam, Serviteur jentilhom­mes. Pocket de sleeve?

Exit.

The LANDLADY.

ARGUMENT.

A Gentleman by accident takes a child and brings it to his Lodging; his friend afterward happens to meet with a Lady, the mother of the child (unknown) and brings her to the Lodging, &c.

Persons names.
  • Don John,
  • Anthony,
  • Frederick,
  • Duke,
  • Peter,
  • Landlady,
  • the Lady.
Enter Don Iohn and his Landlady with a child.
Landl.

NAy son,

If this be your regard.

Ioh.

Good Mother.

Landl.

Good me no goods; your Cousin and your self are welcome to me whilest you bear your selves like honest and true Gentlemen. Bring hither to my house, that hath ever been reputed a Gentlewoman of a decent and fair carriage, and so have behaved my self?

Ioh.

I know ye have.

Landl.

Bring hither, as I say, to make my house stink in my neighbors nostrils, your devices, your Brats got out of Alligant and broken Oaths? your linsey work, your hasty puddings? I foster up your filch'd iniquities? y'are deceived in me, for I am none of those receivers.

Ioh.

Have I not sworn unto you 'tis none of mine, and shew'd you how I found it?

Landl.
[Page 141]

Ye found an easie fool that let you get it: she had better have worn Posterons.

Ioh.

Will ye hear me?

Landl.

Oaths? what do you care for oaths to gain your ends, when you are high and pamper'd? what Saint know ye? or what Religion, but your purpos'd lewd­ness, is to be looked for of ye? Nay, I will tell ye, ye will then swear like accus'd Cut-purses? as far off truth too: and lie beyond all Faulconers. I'm sick to see this dealing.

Ioh.

Heaven forbid, Mother.

Landl.

Nay, I am very sick.

Ioh.

Who waits there?

Enter Anthony with wine.
Anthony.

Sir?

Ioh.

Bring down the bottle of Canary wine.

Landl.

Exceeding sick, Heaven help me.

Ioh.

I must ev'n make her drunk. Nay, gentle mother.

Landl.

Now fie upon ye.

Ioh.

Here mother, take a good round draught, 'twill purge spleen from your spirits: deeper, mother.

Landl.

I, I, son; you imagine this will mend all.

Ioh.

All ifaith, mother.

Landl.

I confess this wine will do his part.

Ioh.

I'll pledge you.

Landl.

But son Iohn, I know your meaning.

Ioh.

Mother, touch it once more, alas you look not well; take a round draught, it warms the blood well, and restores the colour, and then we'll talk at large.

Landl.

A civil Gentleman! a stranger! one that should weigh his fair name! Oh, a stitch.

Ioh.

There's nothing better for a stitch: good mother make no spare of it, as you love your health: Mince not the matter.

Landl.

As I said, a Gentleman lodge in my house! [Page 142] now heaven's my comfort.

Ioh.

I looked for this.

Landl.

Where's the infant? come, let's see your workmanship.

Ioh.

None of mine, mother; but there 'tis, and a lusty one.

Landl.

Heaven bless thee, thou hadst a hasty making; but the best is, 'tis many a good mans fortune. As I live, your own eys, Seignior, and the nether lip as like ye, as if ye had spit it.

Ioh.

I am glad on't.

Landl.

Bless me, what things are these!

Ioh.

I thought my labour was not all lost; 'tis gold, and these are jewels, both rich, and right I hope.

Landl.

Well, well, son Iohn, I see you are a wood­man, and can chuse your Deer though it be i'ch' dark; all your discretion is not yet loft, this was well clapt aboard here: I am with you now, when, as they say, your pleasure comes with profit, when you must needs do where ye may be done to; 'tis a wisdom becomes a young man well. Be sure of one thing, loose not your labour and your time together, it seasons of a fool. Son, time is pretious, work wary whilst ye have it. Since ye must traffique sometimes this slippery way, take sure hold, Seignior, trade with no broken Merchants: make your lading as you would make your rest, adventurously, and with advantage ever.

Ioh.

All this time, mother, the child wants looking to, meat and Nurse.

Landl.

Now blessing o'thy care, it shall have all, and instantly; I'l seek a Nurse my self, son; 'tis a sweet child: Ah my young Spaniard, take you no farther care sir.

Ioh.

Yes, of these jewels I must, by your leave mo­ther: these are yours, to make your care the stronger; [Page 143] for the rest I'll find a master; the gold for bringing up on't, I freely render to your charge.

Landl.

No more words, nor no more children (good son) as you love me, this may do well.

Ioh.

I shall observe your Morals.

Exeunt.
Enter Peter and Landlady.
Landl.

Come, ye do know—

Pet.

I do not, by this hand Mistress, but I suspect.

Landl.

What?

Pet.

That if eggs continue at this price, women will ne'r be sav'd by their good works.

Landl.

I will know.

Pet.

Ye shall, any thing lies in my power. The Duke of Lorrain is now 7000 strong: I heard it of a Fish-wife, a woman of fine knowledge.

Landl.

Sirrah, sirrah.

Pet.

The Popes Buls are broken loose too, and 'tis suspected they shall be baited in England.

Landl.

Very well, Sir.

Pet.

No, 'tis not so well neither.

Landl.

But I say to you, Who is it keeps your Master companie?

Pet.

I say to you, Don Iohn.

Landl.

I say to you, what woman?

Pet.

I say so too.

Landl.

I say again, I will know.

Pet.

I say 'tis fit you should.

Landl.

And I tell thee he has a woman here.

Pet.

And I tell thee, 'tis then the better for him.

Landl.

You are no Baud now?

Pet.

Would I were able to be call'd unto it. A wor­shipful Vocation for my Elders; for as I understand, i [...] is a place fitting my betters far.

Landl.
[Page 144]

Was ever Gentlewoman so frumpt off with a Fool? Well, sawcie sirrah, I will know who it is, and for what purpose. I pay the rent, and I will know how my house comes by these inflammations. If this geer hold, best hang a sign-post up, to tell the Seigniors, here you may have Lewdness at libertie.

Pet.

'Twould be a great ease to your age.

Enter Frederick.
Fred.

How now? why what's the matter Landlady?

Landl.

What's the matter? ye use me decently a­mong ye, Gentlemen.

Fred.

Who has abus'd her? you sir?

Landl.

Ods my witness, I will not be thus treated, that I will not.

Pet.

I gave her no ill language.

Landl.

Thou liest lewdly, thou tookst me up at every word I spoke, as I had been a Mawkin, a Flutt-Gillian: And thou thinkst, because thōu canst write and read, our noses must be under thee.

Fred.

Dare you, sirrah?

Pet.

She raves of Wenches, and I know not what, Sir.

Landl.

Go to, thou knowest too-well, thou wicked Varlet.

Pet.

As I live Sir, she is ever thus till dinner.

Fred.

Get you in.

Pet.

By this hand I'll break your posset-pan.

Exit Pet.
Landl.

Then by this hood I'll lock the meat up.

Fred.

Now your grief, what is't? for I can ghess.

Landl.

Ye may with shame enough, if there were shame amongst ye; nothing thought on but how you may abuse my house: not satisfi'd with bringing home your Bastards to undo me, but you must drill your Whores here too? My patience (because I beat and bear, and carry all, and as they say am willing to groan under) must be your Make-sport now.

Fred.
[Page 145]

No more of these words, nor no more mur­murings, Lady: for you know that I know something. I did suspect your anger; but turn it presently, and hand­somely, and bear your self discreet to this woman, for such a one there is indeed.

Landl.

'Tis well, son.

Fred.

Leaving your Devils Matins, and your Melan­cholies, or we shall leave our lodgings.

Landl.

You have much need to use these vagrant ways, and to much profit: ye had that might content you (at home, within your selves too) right good, Gen­tlemen, wholsom, and ye said handsome. But you gal­lants, boast that I was to believe you.

Fred.

Leave your suspition: for as I live, there's no such thing.

Landl.

Mine honour; and 'twere not for mine honour.

Fred.

Come, your honour, your house, and you too, if you dare believe me, are well enough. Sleek up your self, leave crying.

Enter Don Iohn.
Don Iohn.

Worshipful Lady, how does thy velvet scabbard? by this hand thou look'st most amiably; now could I willingly, and 'twere not for abusing thy Geneva-Print there, venture my body with thee.

Landl.

You will leave this roguery when you come to my years.

Don Ioh.

By this light, thou art not above fifteen yet, a meer girl; thou hast not half thy teeth—

Fred.

Prithee Iohn let her alone, she has been vext already: she'll grow stark mad.

Ioh.

I would see her mad. An old mad woman is like a Millers Mare troubled with tooth-ach. She'll make the rarest faces!

Landl.

VVell Don Iohn, there will be times again, when O good mother, what's good for a Carnositie in [Page 146] the Bladder? O the green water, mother.

Ioh.

Doting take ye, do you remember that?

Fred.

She has paid you now, Sir.

Landl.

Clarie, sweet mother, Clarie.

Fred.

Are ye satisfied?

Landl.

I'll never whore again, never give Petticoats and VVastcoats at five pounds apiece; good mother, quickly mother. Now mock on, son.

Exit.
Ioh.

A devil grind your old chaps.

Fred.

By this hand, VVench, I'll give thee a new hood for this. Has she met with your Lordship?

Joh.

Touch-wood take her, she's a rare costly mother.

Exeunt.
Enter Landlady and Lady.
Lady.

I have told you all I can; to me you seem a worthy woman, one of those are seldom found in our sex, VVise, and Vertuous. Direct me, I beseech you.

Landl.

Ye say well, Lady, and hold to that point; for in these businesses a womans counsel that conceives the matter, Do ye mark me, that conceives the matter, Lady, is worth ten mens engagements: she knows some­thing, and out of that, can work like wax; when men are giddy-headed, either out of wine, or a more drun­kenness, vain ostentation, discovering all: there is no more keep in 'um, then hold upon an Eels tail; nay, 'tis held fashion to defame now all they can.

Lady.

I, but these Gentlemen—

Landl.

Do not you trust to that: these Gentlemen are as all other Gentlemen, of the same Barrel; I, and the self-same Pickle. Be it granted they have used ye with respect and fair behaviour yet since ye came: do you know what must follow? They are Spaniards, Lady, Gennets of high mettle: Things that will thrash the [Page 147] Devil or his Dam, let 'em appear but cloven.

Lady.

Now Heaven bless me!

Landl.

Mad Colts will court the VVind: I know 'em, Lady, to the least hair they have; and I tell you, old as I am, let but the pint-pot bless'em, they'll offer to my years.

Lady.

How!—

Landl.

Such rude Gambols—

Lady.

To you?—

Landl.

I, and so handle me, that oft I am forced to fight of all four for my safetie: There's the younger, Don John, the arrantest Jack in all this Citie. The o­ther, Time has blasted, yet he will stoop, if not ore-flown, and freely on the Quarrie: Has been a Dragon in his days. But Tarmont, Don Jenkin is the Devil himself; the Dog-days the most incomprehensible VVhoremaster, twentie a night is nothing; Beggers, Broom-women, and those so miserable, they look like famine, are all sweet Ladies in his drink.

Lady.

He's a handsom Gentleman, pitie he should be master of such follies.

Landl.

He's ne'r without a noise of Syrrenges in's pocket, those proclaim him, Birding-pills, VVaters to cool his Conscience, in small Viols; with thousand such sufficient emblems. The truth is, whose Chastitie he chops upon, he cares not. He flies at all; Bastards upon my Conscience he has in making, multitudes; The last night he brought home one, I pitie her that bore it, but we are all weak Vessels: some rich woman, (for VVise I dare not call her) was the mother, for it was hung with jewels, the bearing-cloth no less then crim­son-Velvet.

Lady.

How!

Landl.

'Tis true, Lady.

Lady.

VVas it a boy too?

Landl.
[Page 148]

A brave boy, deliberation and judgement shew'd in's begetting; as I'll say for him, he's as well pac'd for that sport.

Lady.

May I see it?

Landl.

You shall see it: but what do ye think of these men now you know 'em, and of the cause I told ye of? I but tell you for your own good, and as you will find it, Lady.

Lady.

I am advised.

Landl.

No more words then; do that, and in­stantly.

Don Joh.

I'll fit you for your frumps: she that's wise leaps at occasion first; the rest pay for it.

Exeunt.

The TESTY LORD.

ARGUMENT.

He is imployd near the King, in which office he exerciseth his Passion, and is as crosly dealt withall by another Lord.

Persons Names.
  • Calianax,
  • Melantius,
  • Diagoras,
  • Amintor,
  • Aspatia,
  • two Gentlewomen,
  • the King,
  • Diphisus.
Enter Diagoras and Calianax.
Cal.

DIagoras, look to the doors better for shame, you let in all the world, and anon the King will rail at me: by Jove, the King will have the Shew i' [...]h' Court.

Diag.
[Page 149]

Why do you swear so, my Lord? you know he'll have it here.

Cal.

By this light, if he be wise he will not.

Diag.

And if he will not be wise, you are forsworn.

Cal.

One may sweat his heart out with swearing, and get thanks on no side; I'll be gone, look to't who will.

Diag.

My Lord, I will never keep 'em out: pray stay, your looks will terrifie 'em.

Cal.

My looks terrifie 'em, you Coxcombly Ass you? I'll be judg'd by all the companie whether thou hast not a worse face then I.—

Diag.

I mean, because they know you and your office.

Cal.

Office? I would I could put it off. I am sure I sweat quite through my office: serve that will.

Exit.
Diag.

He's so humorous,—hark, hark; there, there, so, so, cuds, cuds, what now?

Cal.

Let him not in.

Diag

O my Lord, he must: is your

Enter Calianax, Melantius.

Lady plac'd?

Melan.

Yes Sir, I thank you. My Lord Calianax, well met; your causless hate to me I hope is buried.

Cal.

Who plac'd the Lady there, so near the presence of the King?

Melan.

I did.

Cal.

My Lord, she must not sit there.

Melan.

Why?

Cal.

The place is kept for a woman of more worth.

Melan.

More worth then she? it mis-becomes your age and place to be so womanish; forbear: what you have spoke, I am content to think the Palsie shook your tongue to.

Cal.

Why ' [...]is well if I stand here to place mens Wenches?

Melan.

I shall forget this place, thy age, and through all, cut that poor sickly VVeek thou hast to live, away from thee.

Cal.
[Page 150]

Nay, I know you can fight for your VVhore.

Mel.

Bate the King, and he be flesh and blood, he lies that saies it: thy mother at fifteen was black and sinful to her.

Cal.

I, you may say your pleasure.

Enter Amintor.
Am.

VVhat vild injurie has stirred my worthy friend, who is as slow to fight with words as he is quick of hand?

Mel.

That heap of age which I should reverence if it were temperate; but testie years are most con­temptible.

Am.

Good Sir forbear.

Cal.

There is just such another as your self.

Am.

He will wrong you or me, or any man, and talk as if he had no life to lose.

Exeunt.
Enter Calianax to Aspatia, and two Gentlewomen.
Cal.

How now huswifes? what, at your ease? is this a time to sit still? Up, you young lazie whores, up, or I'll s [...]inge you.

1 Gent.

Nay, good my Lord.

Cal.

You'll lie down shortly; Get you in and work: what, are you grown so restie? you want ears; we shall have some of the Court-boys do that office.

2 Gent.

My Lord, we do no more then we are charg'd; it is the Ladies pleasure we be thus in grief: she is for­saken.

Cal.

There's a rogue too, a young dissembling slave; well, get you in, I'll have a bout with that boy, 'tis high time now to be valiant. I confess my youth was never prone that way: what, made an Ass? a Court-Stale? VVell, I will be valiant, and beat some dozen of these whelps, I will: and there's another of 'em, a trim cheat­ing Souldier, I'll mawl that Rascal; has out▪brav'd me [Page 151] twice, but now I thank the gods I am valiant: Go, get you in, I'll take a course with all.

Exeunt.
Enter Calianax to Melantius.
Cal.

O Melantius, my daughter will die.

Mel.

Trust me, I am sorry; would thou hadst ta'n her room.

Cal.

Thou art a Slave, a Cut-throat Slave, a bloody treacherous Slave.

Mel.

Take heed, old Man, thou wilt be heard to rave, and lose thine offices.

Cal.

I am valiant grown at all these years, and thou art but a Slave.

Mel.

Leave: some companie will come, and I respect thy years, not thee so much, that I could wish to laugh at thee alone.

Cal.

I'll spoil your mirth, I mean to fight with thee; there lie my Cloak, this was my fathers sword, and he durst fight; are you prepar'd?

Mel.

VVhy? wilt thou dote thy self out of thy life? hence, get thee to bed, have careful looking to, and eat warm things, and trouble not me; my head is full of thoughts more weightie then thy life or death can be.

Cal.

You have a name in VVar, when you stand safe amongst a multitude; but I will trie what you dare do unto a weak old Man in single fight; you'll ground I fear. Come, draw.

Mel.

I will not draw, unless thou pull'st thy death upon thee with a stroke: there's no one blow that thou canst give, hath strength enough to kill me. Tempt me not so far then; the power of earth shall not redeem thee.

Cal.

I must let him alone, he's stout and able; and to say the truth, however I may set a face and talk, I am [Page 152] not valiant. VVhen I was a youth, I kept my credit with a testie trick I had amongst Cowards, but durst ne­ver fight.

Mel.

I will not promise you to preserve your life if you do stay.

Cal.

I would give half my land that I durst fight with that proud man a little: if I had men to hold, I would beat him till he ask me mercie.

Mel.

Sir, will you be gone?

Cal.

I dare not stay, but I will go home and beat my servants all over for this.

Exit.
Mel.

This old Man haunts me; but the distracted car­riage of mine Amintor takes deeply on me, I will find the cause: I fear his Conscience cries, he wrong'd Aspatia.

Exit.
Enter Calianax, to him Melantius.
Mel.

Good my Lord, forget your spleen to me; I ne­ver wrong'd you, but would have peace with eve­ry man.

Cal.

'Tis well: if I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet.

Mel.

Y'are touchie without cause.

Cal.

Do, mock me.

Mel.

By mine honour.

Cal.

Honour? where is't?

Mel.

See what stairs you make into your hatred, to my love and freedome to you.—I come with resolution to obtain a suit of you.

Cal.

A suit of me? 'tis very like it should be gran­ted, Sir.

Mel.

Nay, go not hence: 'Tis this, You have the keeping of the Fort, and I would wish you, by the love you ought to bear unto me, to deliver it into my hands.

Cal.
[Page 153]

I am in hope that thou art mad, to talk to me thus.

Mel.

But there is a reason to move you to it. I would kill the King, that wrong'd you and your daughter.

Cal.

Out Traitour!

Mel.

Nay, but stay; I cannot scape, the deed once done, without I have this Fort.

Cal.

And should I help thee? Now thy treacherous mind betraies it self.

Mel.

Come, delay me not, give me a sudden answer, or already thy last is spoke: refuse not offer'd love when it comes clad in secrets.

Cal.

If I say I will not, he will kill me; I do see it writ in his looks: and should I say I will, he'll run and tell the King. I do not shun your friendship, dear Me­lantius, but this cause is weightie, give me but an hour to think.

Mel.

Take it,—I know this goes unto the King, but I am arm'd.

Exit Mel.
Cal.

Methinks I feel my self but twentie again, this fighting Fool wants policie. I shall revenge my Girl, and make her red again. I pray my legs will last that pace that I will carry, I shall want breath before I finde the King.

Exit.
The King and Calianax.
King.

It sounds incredible.

Cal.

Yes, so does every thing I say, of late.

King.

Not so, Calianax.

Cal.

Yes, I should sit mute, whilst a rogue with strong arms cuts your throat.

King.

Well, I will trie him.

Cal.

Why, if it be alie, mine ears are false, for I'll be sworn I heard it. Old men are good for nothing; you [Page 154] were best to put me to death for hearing, and free him for meaning of it; you would have trusted me once, but the time is altered.

King.

And will still, where I may do it with Justice to the world. You have no witness?

Cal.

Yes, my self.

King.

No more, I mean, there were that heard it.

Cal.

How, no more? why am not I enough to hang a thousand Rogues?

King.

But so you may hang honest men too, if you please.

Cal.

I may, ' [...]is like I will do so; there are a hundred will swear it for a need too, if I say it.

King.

Such witnesses we need not.

Cal.

And 'tis hard if my word cannot hang a boiste­rous Knave.

King.

Enough: if he should desire the Combat of you, 'tis not in the power of all our Laws to hinder it.

Cal.

Why, if you do think 'tis fit an old Man and a Counsellour to fight for what he saies, then you may grant it.

Enter Melantius, Amintor, &c.
King.

Give me a bowl of wine: Melantius, I am now considering how easie 'twere for any man to trust to poison one of us in such a bowl.

Mel.

I think it were not hard, Sir, for a Knave.

Cal.

Such as you are.

Mel.

Have you thought of this, Calianax?

Cal.

Yes marry have I.

Mel.

And what's your resolution?

Cal.

Ye shall have it soundly.

King.

Yet I wonder much of the strange desperation of these men; he could not escape that did it.

Mel.
[Page 155]

Were he known, unpossible.

King.

It would be known, Melantius; I should think no man could kill me and sc [...]pe clear, but that old Man.

Cal.

But I! Heaven bless me, I? should I, my Liege?

King.

I do not think thou wouldst, but yet thou mightst, for thou hast in thy hands the means to scape, by keeping of the Fort; he has, Melantius, and he has kept it well.

Mel.

From Cobwebs, Sir, 'tis clean swept.

Cal.

I shall be sure of your good word; but I have kept it safe from such as you.

King.

Melantius, to shew you my ears are every where, You meant to kill me, and get the Fort to scape.

Mel.

You preserve a race of idle people here about you, Eaters, and Talkers, to defame mens worths; Give me a pardon (for you ought to do't) to kill him that spake this.

Cal.

I, that will be th'end of all; then I am fairly paid for all my care and service.

Mel.

That old Man that calls me enemie, and of whom I (thought I will never match my hate so low) have no good thought, would yet I think excuse me, and swear he thought me wrong'd in this.

Cal.

Who I? thou shameless fellow, didst thou not speak to me of it thy self?

Mel.

O, then it came from him.

Cal.

From me? who should it come from, but from me?

Mel.

Nay, I believe your malice is enough, but I ha▪ lost my anger. Sir, I hope you are well satisfied.

King.

Melantius, I held it great injustice to believe thine enemie, and did not; if I did, I do not: let that satisfie.

Cal.

A few fine words have overcome my truth. Ah, th'art a Villain.

Mel.
[Page 156]

Why thou wilt let me have the Fort, Dotard; I will disgrace thee thus for ever: there shall no credit lie upon thy words: think better, and believe it.

Cal.

My Liege, he's at me now again to do it; speak, deny it if thou canst? Example him whilst he's hot, for he'll cool again, he will forswear it.

King.

This is Lunacy I hope, Melantius?

Mel.

He has lost himself much: and though he call me Foe, I pitie him; for it becomes both you and me too, to forgive distraction: Pardon him as I do.

Cal.

I'll not speak for thee, for all thy cunning; if you will be safe, chop off his head, for there was never known so impudent a Rascal.

King.

Some that love him, get him to bed.

Mel.

Calianax, the King believes you; come, you shall go home and rest, you ha' done well; you'll give it up when I have us'd you thus a Moneth I hope.

Cal.

Now, now, 'tis plain Sir, he does move me still; he saies, he knows I will give him up the Fort, when he has us'd me thus this Moneth; I am mad, am I not still?

Omnes.

Ha, ha, ha!

Cal.

I shall be mad indeed, if you do thus; why would you trust a sturdy fellow there, (that has no vertue in him, all's in's sword) before me? do but take his wea­pons away from him, and he's an Ass, and I am a very Fool, both with him and without him, as you use me.

Omnes.

Ha, ha, ha!

King.

'Tis well, Calianax; but if you use this once again, I shall intreat some other to see your offices be well discharged. Good Calianax sleep soundly, it will bring thee to thy self.

Exeunt omnes. Manent Mel. and Cal.
Cal.

Sleep soundly! I sleep soundly now, I hope, I could not be thus else! How dar'st thou stay alone with [Page 157] me, knowing how thou hast us'd me?

Mel.

You cannot blast me with your tongue, and that's the strongest part you have about you.

Cal.

I do look for some great punishment for this, for I begin to forget all my hate, and take't unkindly that mine enemie should use me so extraordinarily scur­vily.

Mel.

I shall melt too, if you begin to take unkind­ness; I never meant you hurt.

Cal.

Thou'lt anger me again; thou wretched rogue, meant me no hurt? disgrace me with the King, lose all my offices? this is no hurt, is it? I prithee what dost thou call hurt?

Mel.

To poison me because they love me not; to call the credit of Mens wives in question, to murder children betwixt me and land; this is all hurt.

Cal.

All this thou thinkst is sport, for mine is worse; but use thy will with me, for betwixt grief and anger I could crie.

Mel.

Be wise then, and be safe; thou mayest re­venge.

Cal.

I o'th' King? I would revenge o'thee.

Mel.

That you must plot your self.

Cal.

I am a fine Plotter.

Mel.

The short is, I will hold thee with the King in this perplexitie, till peevishness, and thy disgrace hath laid thee in the grave. But if thou wilt deliver up the Fort, I'll take thy trembling body in my arms, and bear thee over dangers; thou shalt hold thy wonted state.

Cal.

If I should tell the King, canst thou deny't again?

Mel.

Trie and believe.

Cal.

Nay, then thou canst bring any thing about; thou shalt have the Fort.

Mel.

Why well, here let our hate be buried.

Cal.

Nay, I do not love thee yet; I cannot well en­dure [Page 158] to look on thee. And if I thought it were a curtesie, thou shouldst not have it; but I am disgrac'd, my offi­ces are to be ta'n away. And if I did but hold this Fort a day, I do believe the King would take it from me, and give it thee, things are so strangely carried; Ne'r thank me for't: but yet the King shall know there was some such thing in't I told him of, and that I was an honest man.

Mel.

He'll buy that knowledge very dearly. What news with thee?

Enter Diphilus.
Diph.

This were a night indeed to do it in.

Mel.

Go, Diphilus, and take from this good man, my worthy friend, the Fort, he'll give it thee.

Diph.

Ha'you got that too?

Cal.

Art thou of the same breed? canst thou deny this to the King too?

Diph.

With a confidence as great as his.

Cal.

Faith like enough.

Mel.

Away, and use him kindly.

Cal.

Touch not me, I hate the whole strain: if thon follow me a great way off, I'll give thee up the Fort, and hang your selves.

Mel.

Be gone.

Diphil.

He's finely wrought.

Exeunt.

The IMPERICK.

ARGUMENT.

Under the notion of his knowledge in Chymistrie, he cheats a Grocer and a Precisian.

Persons Names.
  • Subtle,
  • Drugger,
  • Face.
Subtle.

COme in, What is your name, say you, Abel Drugger?

Drug.

Yes Sir.

Subt.

Umh. Free of the Grocers?

Drug.

I, an't please you.

Subt.

Well,—Your business, Abel?

Drug.

This, an't please your worship; I am a young beginner, and am building of a new Shop, an't please your Worship, just at corner of a street, (here's the plat on't) and I would know by Art, Sir, of your Worship, which way I should make my door, by Necromancie, and where my Shelves, and which should be for Boxes, and which for Pots. I would be glad to thrive, Sir: and I was wisht to your Worship, by a Gentleman, one Cap­tain Face, that saies you know mens Planets, and their good Angels and their bad.

Subt.

I do, if I do see 'em.—

Face.

VVhat! my honest Abel? thou art well met here.

Drug.

Troth Sir, I was speaking just as your VVor­ship [Page 160] came here, of your VVorship: I pray you speak for me to Master Doctor.

Face.

He shall do any thing. Doctor, do you hear? this is my friend, Abel, an honest fellow; he lets me have good Tobacco, and he does not sophisticate it with Sack-lees, or Oyl, nor washes it in Muscadel, and Grains, nor buries it in Gravel, under ground, wrapt up in grea­sie leather, or pist clouts, but keeps it in fine Lilie-pots, that opened, smell like Conserve of Roses, or French Beans. He has his Maple block, his silver tongs, VVin­chester pipes, and fire of Juniper. A neat, spruce-ho­nest fellow, and no Goldsmith.

Subt.

He is a fortunate fellow, that I am sure on.

Face.

Already Sir, Ha you found it? Lo thee Abel.

Subt.

And in right way toward riches.—

Face.

Sir?

Subt.

This Summer, he will be of the clothing of his Companie: and next Spring called to the Scarlet, spend what he can.

Face.

What, and so little beard!

Subt.

Sir, you must think he may have a receit to make hair come: But he'll be wise, preserve his youth, and fine for't: his fortune looks for him another way.

Face.

'Slid Doctor, how canst thou know this so soon? I am amus'd at that!

Subt.

By a rule, Captain, in Metaposcopy, which I do work by, a certain Star i'th' forehead, which you see not. Your Chest-nut, or your Olive-colour'd face does never fail; and your long ear doth promise. I knew't by certain spots too, in his teeth, and on the nail of his Mercurial finger.

Face.

Which finger's that?

Subt.

This little finger. Look, you were born upon a VVednesday?

Drug.
[Page 161]

Yes indeed, Sir.

Subt.

The thumb, in Chiromancie, we give Venus, the fore-finger to Iove, the midst to Saturn, the ring to Sol, the least to Mercury, who was the Lord, Sir, of this Horoscope; his House of Life being Libra, which fore­shew'd he should be a Merchant, and should trade with balance.

Face.

VVhy this is strange, is't not, honest Nab?

Subt.

There is a Ship now coming from Ormus, that shall yeild him such a commoditie of Drugs.—This is the VVest, and this the South?

Drug.

Yes, Sir.

Subt.

And those are your two sides?

Looking upon the Plate.
Drug.

I, Sir.

Subt.

Make me your Door then South, your broad­side VVest. And on the East-side of your Shop, aloft, write Mathlai, Tarmiel, and Baraborat; upon the North part, Rael, Velel, Thiel: they are the names of those Mercurial Spirits that do fright Flies from Boxes.

Drug.

Yes, Sir.

Subt.

And beneath your threshold, bury me a Load­stone to draw in Gallants that wear Spurs: the rest they'll seem to follow.

Face.

That's a Secret, Nab!

Subt.

And on your Stall, a Puppet with a Vice, and a Court-fucus to call Citie-Dames. You shall deal much with Minerals.

Drug.

Sir, I have, at home, already—

Subt.

I, I know you have Arsnike, Vitriol, Sal-tartre, Argaile, Alkaly, Cinoper; I know all. This fellow, Cap­tain, will come, in time, to be a great Distiller, and give a say, (I will not say directly, but very fair) at the Philo­sophers Stone.

Face.

VVhy how now, Abel? is this true?

Drug.

Good Captain, what must I give him?

Face.
[Page 162]

Nay, I'll not counsel thee; thou hear'st what wealth (he saies, Spend what thou canst) th'art like to come to.

Drug.

I would give him a Crown.

Face.

A Crown! and toward such a Fortune! Hear, thou shalt rather give him thy Shop. No gold about thee?

Drug.

Yes, I have a Portague, I have kept this half year.

Face.

Out on thee, Nab! 'Slight, there was such an offer—Shalt keep't no longer, I'll giv't him for thee. Doctor, Nab praies your Worship to drink this, and he will appear more grateful, as your skill does raise him in this VVorld.

Drug.

I would intreat another favour of his VVor­ship.

Face.

VVhat is't, Nab?

Drug.

But to look over, Sir, my Almanack, and cross out my ill days; that I may neither bargain, nor trust upon them.

Face.

That he shall, Nab.

Subt.

And a direction for his Shelves.

Drug.

And one thing more, Sir.

Face.

VVhat is it, Nab?

Drug.

A Sign, Sir.

Face.

I, a good luckie one, a thriving Sign, Doctor.

Subt.

I was devising now.

Face.

('Slight, Do not say so, he must give you more.) What say you to his Constellation, Doctor, the Ba­lance?

Subt.

No, that way is stale, and common. A Towns­man born in Taurus, gives the Bull, or the Bulls head; in Aries, the Ram. A poor device: No, I will have his Name formed in some mystick Character; whose radii striking the senses of the Passers-by, shall, by a vertual [Page 163] influence, breed affections that may result upon the partie owns it. As thus,—

Face.

Nab, hast no more gold?

Drug.

Not here, Sir, I protest.

Subt.

He first shall have A Bel, that's Abel; and one standing by, whose name is Dee, in a rugg Gown; there's D and Rugg, that's Drugg; and right anenst him, a Dog snarling Er, there's Drugger, Abel Drugger; that's his Sign. And here's now Mysterie and Hieroglyphick.

Face.

Abel, thou art made.

Drug.

Sir, I do thank his Worship.

Face.

Six o'thy legs more will not do it, Nab. He has brought you a pipe of Tobacco, Doctor.

Drug.

Yes, Sir.

Subt.

It seems to be good Tobacco; what is't an ounce?

Face.

He'll send you a pound or two, Doctor.

Subt.

O no!

Face.

He will do't. It is the goodest soul! Abel, a­bout it; thou shalt know more anon: away, be gone.

Subt.

Keep aloof off, yonder's another Chapman: observe my call.

Exit Drug. Enter Ananias.

Where is my drudge?—

Face.

Sir.

Subt.

Take away the Recipient, and rectifie the Men­strue from the Phlegma; then pour it o'the Sol, in the Cucurbite, and let 'em macerate together.

Face.

Yes Sir. And save the ground?

Subt.

No, Terra damnata must not have entrance in the work. Who are you?

Ananias.

A faithful Brother, if it please you.

Subt.

What's that? a Lullianist? a Ripley? filius artis? Can you sublime, and dulcifie? calcine? Know you the Sapor pontick? Sapor styptick? or what is homo­gene, or heterogene?

Anan.
[Page 164]

I understand no heathen language, truly.

Subt.

Heathen, you Knipper-Doling? is ars sacra, or Chrysopoeia, or Spagyrica, or the Pamphysick, or Pa­narchick knowledge, a Heathen language?

Anan.

Heathen Greek, I take it.

Subt.

How! Heathen Greek?

Anan.

All's Heathen but the Hebrew.

Sub.

Sirrah, my Varlet, Stand you forth, and speak to him like a Philosopher: Answer i'th' language: Name the Vexations, and the Martyrizations of Metals in the Work.

Face.

Sir, Putrefaction, Solution, Ablution, Subli­mation, Cohobation, Calcination, Ceration, and Fixa­tion.

Sub.

This is Heathen Greek to you now? And when comes Vivification?

Face.

After Mortification.

Anan.

What's Cohobation?

Face.

'Tis the pouring on your aqua regis, and then drawing him off, to the trine circle of the seven sphears.

Subt.

VVhat's the proper passion of Metals?

Face.

Malleation.

Subt.

VVhat's your Ultimum supplicium auri?

Face.

Antimonium.

Subt.

This is Heathen Greek to you? And what's your Mercury?

Face.

A very fugitive, he will be gone, Sir.

Subt.

How know you him?

Face.

By his Viscositie, his Oleositie, and his Suscita­bilitie.

Subt.

How do you sublime him?

Face.

VVith the Calce of Egg-shels, white Marble, halk.

Subt.

Your Magisterium, now, what's that?

Face.

Shifting, Sir, your elements, dry into cold, cold [Page 165] into moist, moist into hot, hot into drie.

Subt.

This is Heathen Greek to you still? Your La­pis Philosophicus?

Face.

'Tis a Stone, and not a Stone; a spirit, a soul, and body: which if you do dissolve, it is dissolved; if you coagulate, it is coagulated; if you make it to flie, it flieth.

Subt.

Enough: this is Heathen Greek to you? what are you, Sir?

Anan.

Please you, a servant of the exile Brethren, that deal with VVidows and with Orphans goods, and make a just account unto the Saints; a Deacon.

Subt.

O you are sent from Mr. Wholsome your Tea­cher?

Anan.

From Tribulation Wholsome, our very zealous Pastor.

Subt.

Good. I have some Orphans goods to come here.

Anan.

Of what kinde, Sir?

Subt.

Pewter, and Brass, and Irons, and Kitchin­ware; Metals that we must use ou [...] Medicine on: where­in the Brethren may have a penn'orth for ready money.

Anan.

VVere the Orphans Parents sincere Pro­fessors?

Subt.

VVhy do you ask?

Anan.

Because we then are to deal justly, and give (in truth) their utmost value.

Subt.

'Slid you'ld couzen else, and if their Parents were not of the faithfull? I will not trust you, now I think on't, till I ha' talk'd with your Pastor. Ha' you brought money to buy more Coals?

Anan.

No surely.

Subt.

No? how so?

Anan.

The Brethren bid me say unto you, Sir, Surely they, they will not venture any more till [Page 166] they may see Projection.

Subt.

How?

Anan.

Y'have had for the instruments, as Bricks, and Lome, and Glasses, already, thirty pound; and for Materials, they say, some ninety more: and they have heard since, that one at Heidelberg made it of an Egg, and a small paper of Pin-dust.

Subt.

What's your name?

Anan.

My name is Ananias.

Subt.

Out, the Varlet that couzen'd the Apostles! Hence, away, flie Mischief. Had your holy Consistorie no name to send me of another sound, then wicked A­nanias? Send your Elders hither to make atonement for you, quickly, and give me satisfaction, or out goes the fire, and down th'Alembecks, and the Fornace. Piger Henricus, or what not? Thou wretch, both Senicon and Bufo shall be lost, tell 'em. All hope of rooting out the Bishops, or th'Antichristian Hierarchie, shall perish, if they stay threescore minutes. The Aqueitie, Terrei­tie, and Sulphureitie, shall run together again, and all be anull'd, thou wicked Ananias.

Exit Ananias.

This will fetch 'em, and make 'em haste toward their gulling more.

A man must deal like a rough Nurse, and fright those that are froward, to an appetite.

Exeunt.

The SURPRISE.

ARGUMENT.

He prepares a Countrey-Interlude against the Iulian Feast, at the Presentment whereof, his foster-sister is stoln away, &c.

Number of Actors.
  • The Miller,
  • his Wife,
  • their Son,
  • -their Foster-Daughter,
  • a Lord, who steals her away;
  • Iulio, in whose house the Scene is presented;
  • Orante, who marries the Foster-Sister, found to be Iulio's Daughter:
  • two Gentlemen, Friends, Philip the King, &c.
Enter Iulio, and two or three Gentlemen, as to the Entertainment.
Iulio.
COme, come, the Sports are coming on us;
Seat, seat your selves, Gentlemen.
Enter a Boy presenting Cupid.
Boy.
Love is little, and therefore I present him:
Love is a fire, therefore you may lament him.
2 Gent.

Alas poor Love, who are they that can quench him?

Boy.
Love shoots, therefore I bear his Bowe about:
And Love is blinde, therefore my eys are ou [...].
1 Gent.

I never heard Love give reason for what he did, before.

[Page 168]Enter Millers son for Paris.
Boy.
Let such as can see, see such as cannot: behold,
Our Goddesses all three strive for the Ball of Gold;
And here fair Paris comes, the hopeful youth of Troy,
Queen Hecubs darling-son, King Priams onely joy.
2 Gent.

Is this Paris? I should have taken him for Hector rather.

Son.

Paris, at this time pray you hold your prating.

1 Gent.

Paris can be angry, I see.

Iulio.

At this time he comes as a Judge.

2 Gent.

Mercy on all that looks upon him, say I.

Son.
The thundering Seas whose watry fires
Washes the Whiting Mops.
The gentle Whale, whose feet so fell,
Flies o're the Mountain tops.
No roars so fierce, no throats so deep,
No howls can bring such fears
As Paris can, if Garden from
He calls his Dogs and Bears.
2 Gent.

I, those they were that I fear'd all this while.

Son.

Yes, Jack-an-Apes.

2 Gent.

I thank you, Sir Paris.

Son.
You may hold your peace, and stand farther out
o'th' way then: the lines will fall where they light.
Yes, Jack-an-Apes, he hath to sports,
And faces make like Mirth;
Whilst bellowing Bulls, the horned Beasts
Do toss from Ground to Earth.
Bloud Bear there is, as Cupid blind.
2 Gent.

That Bear would be whipt for loosing of his eys.

Son.
Be whipped man may see,
But we present no such content, but Nymphs such as they be.
[Page 169]Enter a Shepherd singing with three Nymphs, as Iuno, Pallas, Venus; Venus presented by his sister.
Son.
Go Cupid blinde, conduct the dumb,
For Ladies must not speak here;
Let Shepherds sing with dancing feet,
And cords of Musick break here.
Song ended.
Now Ladies fight, with heels so light,
By lot your luck must fall,
Where Paris please, to do you ease,
And give the golden Ball.
A Dance.
Boy.

The Dance is ended; now to Judgment, Paris.

Son.
Here, Iuno, here: but stay, I do espy
A pretty glance coming from Pallas eye:
Here, Pallas, here; yet stay again, methinks
I see the eye of Love, by Venus winks.
Oh close them both! Shut in those golden Eyne,
And I will kiss those sweet blind cheeks of thine.
Iuno is angry; yes, and Pallas frowns:
Would Paris now were gone from Ida's Downs.
They both are fair; but Venus has the Mole,
The fairest hair and sweetest dimple hole.
To her, or her, or her, or her, or neither;
Can one man please three Ladies altogether?
No, take it, Venus, toss it at thy pleasure,
Thou art the Lovers friend, beyond his measure.
1 Gent.

Paris has done what Man can do, pleas'd me, who can do more?

Enter a Lord (as Mars.)
2 Gent.

Stay, here's another person.

Lord.
Come, lovely Venus, leave this lower Orb,
And mount with Mars up to his glorious sphear.
Millers son.

How now! what's he?

Millers daughter.

I'm ignorant what to do, Sir.

Lord.
[Page 170]
Thy silver yoke of Doves are in the Team,
And thou shalt flie thorow Apollo's beam:
I'll see thee seated in thy golden Throne,
And hold with Mars a sweet Conjunction.
Takes her away.
Mill. son.

Ha! what fellow's this? he has carried a­way my sister Venus: he never rehears'd his part with me before.

1 Gent.

What follows now, Prince Paris?

She cries within, Help, help!
Mill. son.

Hue and cry: I think Sir, this is Venus voice, my own and onely sister.

2 Gent.

What, is there some Tragick-Act behind?

Son.

No, no, altogether Comical; Mars and Venus are in the old Conjunction, it seems.

2 Gent.

'Tis very improper then; for Venus never cries out when she Conjoyns with Mars.

Son.

That's true indeed, they are out of their parts sure. It may be 'tis the Book-holders fault: I'll go see.

Exit.
1 Gent.

How like you our Country-Revels, Gen­tlemen?

2 Gent.

Oh, they commend themselves, Sir.

3 Gent.

Methinks now Iuno and Minerva should take revenge on Paris: it cannot end without it.

1 Gent.

It may follow; let's not premeditate the hi­story.

Enter Mill. son crying.
Mill. son.

Oh, oh, oh, oh!

1 Gent.

So, here's a Passion towards.

Mill. son.

Help, help, if you be Gentlemen; my sister, my Venus is stoln away.

2 Gent.

The Story changes from our expectation.

Mill. son.

Help, my father the Miller will hang me else: God Mars is a bawdy Villain; he said she should ride upon Doves: she's hors'd, she's hors'd whether she will or no.

1 Gent.
[Page 171]

Sure I think he's serious.

Mill. son.

She's hors'd upon a double Gelding, and a Stone-horse in the breech of her: the poor Wench cries help, and I crie help, and none of you will help.

1 Gent.

Speak, is it the Shew, or dost thou bawl?

Mill. son.

A pox on the Ball; my sister bawls, and I bawl. Either bridle a horse and follow me, or give me a halter to hang my self: I cannot run so fast as a hog.

Iulio.

I'll fill the Country with pursuit, but I will find the Thief. My house thus abus'd?

Mill. son.

'Tis my house that's abus'd, the sister of my flesh and blood: oh, oh, oh!

Exeunt.
Enter two Gentlemen with the Millers son.
1 Gent.

By all means discharge your follower.

2 Gent.

If we can gethim off. Sirrah, thou must needs run back.

Mill. son.

But I must not, unless you send a Bier, or a Licter at my back. I do not use to run from my friends.

2 Gent.

Well, Go will serve turn: I have forgot.

Mill. son.

VVhat, Sir?

2 Gent.

See if I can think on't now.

Son.

I know what 'tis now.

2 Gent.

A Pistolet of that.

Son.

Done; you have forgot a device to send me away. You are going a smocking perhaps.

1 Gent.

His own, due, due i'faith Antonio: the Pisto­let's his own.

2 Gent.

I confess it, there 'tis.

Now if you could afford out of it a reasonable excuse to my Uncle.

Mill. son.

Yes, I can: but an excuse will not serve your turn: it must be a lie, a full lie, a downright lie, 'twill do no good else: if you'll go to the price of that.

2 Gent.
[Page 172]

Is a lie dearer then an excuse?

Son.

Oh, treble: this is the price of an Excuse; but a Lie is two more. Look how many foils goes to a fair fall, so many Excuses go to a full Lie; and less cannot serve your turn, let any Taylor i'th' Town make it.

1 Gent.

'Tis but reasonable; give him his price: let it be large enough now.

Mill. son.

I'll warrant you cover him all over.

2 Gent.

I would have proof of one now.

Mill. son.

VVhat? scale my Invention beforehand? you shall pardon me for that: VVell, I'll commend you to your Uncle, and tell him you'll be at home at Supper with him.

1 Gent.

By no means, I cannot come to night (man.)

Mill. son.

I know that too; you do not know a lie when you see it: remember it must stretch for all night.

Mill. son.

I shall want stuff; I doubt 'twill come to the other Pistolet.

2 Gent.

VVell, lay out, you shall be no loser, Sir.

Mill. son.

It must be fac'd; you know there will be a yard of Dissimulation at least, (City-measure) and cut upon an untroth or two, lin'd with fables, that must needs be, cold weather coming; if it had a gallon of hypocrisie, 'twould do well; and hooked together with a couple of Conceits, that's necessitie: VVell, I'll bring in my Bill: I'll warrant you as fair a Lie, by that time I have done with it, as any Gentleman i'th' Town can swear too, if he would betray his Lord and Master.

Exit.
2 Gent.

So, so, this necessary trouble's over.

1 Gent.

I would you had bought an excuse of him before he went: you'll want one for your Lady.

Enter again.
Mill. son.

Oh Gentlemen, look to your selves, ye are [Page 173] men of another world else; your enemies are upon you: the old house of the Bellides will fall upon your heads: Seignior Lisauro!

2 Gent.

Lisauro?

Mill. son.

And Don what call you him? he's a Gen­tleman: yet he has but a yeomans name, Don Tarse, Tarso, and a dozen at their heels.

2 Gent.

Lisauro, Tarso, nor a dozen more, shall fright me from my ground, nor shun my path, let 'em come on in their ablest fury.

1 Gent.

'Tis worthily resolv'd: I'll stand by you, Sir; this way I am thy true friend.

Mill. son.

I'll be gone, Sir, that one may live to tell what's become of you.—Put up, put up; will you never learn to know a Lie from an Aesops Fable? there's a taste for you now.

Exit.
2 Gent.

'Tis very well, adieu Trojan.

Exeunt.
Enter Iulio.
Iulio.
My mind's unquiet; while Antonio
My Nephew is abroad, my heart is not at home,
Onely my fears stay with me; bad Companie;
But I cannot shift 'em off. This hatred
Betwixt the house o'th Bellides and Us,
Is not fair VVar: 'tis civil, but uncivil.
It has lasted too many Sun-sets.
Man should not lose so many days of Peace,
To satisfie the Anger of one minute.
I could repent it heartily. I sent
The Knave to attend my Antonio too,
Yet he returns no comfort to me neither.
Enter Millers son.
Mill. son.

No, I must not.

Iulio.

Hah! he's come.

Mill. son.
[Page 174]

I must not; ' [...]will break his heart to hear it.

Iulio.

How! he will not tell me for breaking of my heart: 'tis half split already, I must obscure and hear it.

Mill. son.

I have spi'd him: Now to knock down a Don with a Lie, a silly harmless Lie; 'twill be valiantly done, and nobly perhaps.

Iulio.

I cannot hear him now.

Mill. son.

Oh the bloody daies that we live in! the envious, malicious, deadly daies that we draw breath in!

Iulio.

Now I hear too lowd.

Mill. son.

The children that ever shall be born, may rue it; for men that are slain now, might have liv'd to have got children, that might have curs'd their fathers.

Iulio.

Oh my posteritie is ruin'd!

Mill. son.

Oh sweet Antonio!

Iulio.

Oh dear Antonio!

Mill. son.

Yet it was nobly done on both parts, when he and Lisauro met.

Iulio.

Oh, Death has parted'em.

Mill. son.

VVelcome my mortal Foe (saies one,) wel­come my deadly Enemie (saies the other): off go their doublets, they in their shirts, and their swords, stark na­ked; here lies Antonio, here lies Lisauro: he comes upon him with an Embroccado, that he puts by with a puncta reversa: Lisauro recoils me two paces and some six inches back, takes his Career, and then, oh!

Iulio.

Oh!

Mill. son.

Runs Antonio quite thorow.

Iulio.

Oh Villain!

Mill. son.

Quite thorow, between the arm and the body; so he had no hurt at that bout.

Iulio.

Goodness be prais'd.

Mill. son.

But then at th'next Encounter, he fetches me up Lisauro▪ Lisauro makes out a Long at him, [Page 175] which he thinking to be a Passada, Antonio's foot slip­ing: down, oh, down.

Iulio.

Oh now thou art lost.

Mill. son.

Oh but the quality of the thing: both Gen­tlemen, both Spanish Christians, yet one man to shed—

Iulio.

Say his Enemies blood.

Mill. son.

His hair may come by divers Casualties, though he never go into the Field with his Foe: but a man to lose nine ounces and two drams of blood at one wound, thirteen and a scruple at another, and to live till he die in cold blood: yet the Chirurgeon (that cur'd him) said, if Pia-mater had not been perished, he had been a lives man to this day.

Iulio.

There he concludes he is gone.

Mill. son.

But all this is nothing: now I come to the point.

Iulio.

I, the point, that's deadly: the ancient blow over the buckler ne'r went half so deep.

Mill. son.

Yet Pity bids me keep in my Charity: for me to pull an old Mans ears from his head with telling of a Tale: Oh foul Tale! Furthermore, there is the charge of Burial; every one will cry blacks, blacks, that had but the least finger in his blood, though ten degrees removed when 'twas done. Moreover, the Chirurgeon (that made an end of him) will be paid: Sugar-plums, and Sweet-breads; yet it may be the Man may recover again, and die in his bed.

Iulio.

VVhat motley stuff is this? Sirrah, speak truth what hath befall'n my dear Antonio; what thou keep'it back from truth, thou shalt speak in pain: do not look to finde a Limb in his right place, a Bone unbroke, nor so much flesh unbroil'd of all that Mountain, as a VVorm might sup on; dispatch, or be dispatch'd.

Mill. son.

Alas Sir, I know nothing, but that Antonio is a man of Gods making to this hour; 'tis not two since I left him so.

Iulio.
[Page 176]

When didst thou leave him?

Mill. son.

In the same clothes he had on when he went from you.

Iulio.

Does he live?

Mill. son.

I saw him drink.

Iulio.

Is he wounded?

Mill. son.

He may have a cut in the leg by this time: for Don Martin and he were at whole slashes.

Iulio.

Met he not with Lysauro?

Mill. son.

I do not know her.

Iulio.

Her? Lysauro is a man as he is.

Mill. son.

I saw ne'r a man like him.

Iulio.

Didst not thou discourse a fight betwixt Anto­nio and Lysauro?

Mill. son.

I, to my self: I hope a man may give him­self the Lie, if it please him?

Iulio.

Didst thou lie then?

Mill. son.

As sure as you live now.

Julio.

I live the happier by it: when will he return?

Mill. son.

That he sent me to tell you, within these ten days, at farthest.

Julio.

Ten days? he was not wont to be absent two.

Mill. son.

Nor I think he will not.

He said he would be at home to morrow; but I love to speak within my compass.

Julio.

You shall speak within mine, Sir, now. With­in there: take this fellow into custody:

Enter servants.

keep him safe, I charge you.

Mill. son.

Safe! do you hear? take notice what plight you finde me in: if there want but a Collop, or a Steak o'me, look to't.

Julio.

If my Nephew return not in his health to mor­row, thou goest to the Rack.

Mill. son.
Let me go to th'Manger first;
I had rather eat Oats then Hay.
Exeunt.
[Page 177]Enter Philip, Orante, Miller, Julio, Millers son, severally.
Mill. son.

So-hoh, Miller, Miller,

Look out, Miller: Is there ne'r a Miller amongst you here, Gentlemen?

Miller.

Yes, here is a Miller amongst Gentlemen, a Gentleman-Miller.

Son.

I should not be far off then; there went but a pair of Shears and a Bodkin between us. Will you to work, Miller? here's a Maid has a Sack full of News for you: Shall your Stones walk? will you grinde, Miller?

Phil.

This your son, Franio?

Mill.

My ungratious, my disobedient, my unnatu­ral, my Rebel-son, (my Lord.)

Son.

Fie, your hopper runs over, Miller.

Mill.

This Villain (of my own flesh and blood) was accessary to the stealing of my daughter.

Son.

Oh Mountain!

Shalt thou call a Mole-hill a scab upon the face of the earth? though a Man be a Thief, shall a Miller call him so? Oh egregious!

Julio.

Remember, sirrah, who you speak before.

Son.

I speak before a Miller, a Thief in grain; for he steals Corn. He that steals a Wench, is a true Man, to him.

Phil.

Can you prove that?

Son.

I'll prove it strongly.

He that steals Corn, steals the Bread of the Common­wealth: he that steals a Wench, steals but the flesh.

Phil.

And how is their Bread-stealing more criminal then the flesh?

Son.

He that steals bread, steals that which is lawful every day: he that steals flesh, steals nothing from the [Page 178] fasting day: Ergo, to steal the bread is the arranter Thief.

Phil.

This is to some purpose.

Son.

Again, he that steals flesh, steals for his own bel­ly full: he that steals bread, robs the Guts of others: Ergo, the arranter Thief the Bread-stealer. Again, he that steals flesh, steals once and gives over; yes, and often pays for it; the other steals every day without satisfacti­on. To conclude, Bread-stealing is the more Capital Crime: for what he steals, he puts it in at the head; he that steals flesh (as the Dutch Author saies) puts it in at the foot (the lower Member.) VVill you go as you are now, Miller?

Enter Gillian the Millers wife.
Mill. wife.
I can no longer own
What is not mine with a free Conscience.
My Liege, your pardon.
Phil.

For what? who knows this woman?

Miller.

I, best (my Lord.)

I have been acquainted with her these forty Summers, and as many Winters, were it Spring agen; she's like the Gout, I—

Phil.

Oh, your wife.

Mill.

'Tis oh my wife indeed (my Lord) a painful stitch to my side; would it were pickt out.

Phil.

Well, Sir, your silence.

Son.

VVill you be older and older every day then other? the longer you live, the older still? Must his Majestie command your silence, ere you'll hold your tongue?

Phil.

Your reprehension runs into the same fault: Pray Sir, will you be silent.

Son.

I have told him this before now (my Liege) but Age will have his course, and his weaknesses.

Phil.

Good Sir, your forbearance.

Son.
[Page 179]

And his frailties, and his follies (as I may say) that cannot hold his tongue ere he be bidden.

Phil.

Why sirrah, ha?

Son.

But I believe your Majestie will not be long troubled with him: I hope that woman has something to confess, will hang 'em both.

Phil.

Sirrah, you'll pull your Destinie upon you, If you cease not the sooner.

Son.

Nay, I have done; yet it grieves me that I should call that man father, that should be so shameless, that being commanded to hold his tongue—

Phil.

To th'Porters Lodge with him.

Son.

I thank your Grace, I have a friend there.

Julio.

It hardly will get passage, it is a sorrow of that greatness grown, 'less it dissolve in tears, and come by parcels.

Millers wife.

I'll help you, Sir, in the delivery, and bring you forth a joy: you lost a daughter.

Iulio.

'Twas that recounted thought brought forth these sorrows.

Mill. wife.

She's found again; Know you this Man­tle, Sir?

Julio.

Hah!

Mill. wife

This did enwrap your child, now the Counts wife, &c.

Julio.

Oh thou hast ta'n so many years from me, and made me young as was her birth-day to me.

Phil.

You knew this before.

Son.

Oh, oh; Item for you Miller.

Miller.

I did, my Liege, I must confess I did; We poor ones love, and would have comfort, Sir, as well as great.

Son.

I beseech you, (my Liege) let this Woman be a little farther examin'd; let the words of her Conscience be search'd. I would know how she came by me; I am a [Page 180] lost child, if I be theirs: though I have been brought up in a Mill, yet I had ever a minde (methought) to be a greater man.

Mill. Wife.

Thou art mine own flesh and blood, born of mine own body.

Son.

'Tis very unlikely that such a body should bear me; there's no trust in these Millers. Woman, tell the truth, my father shall forgive thee, whatsoever he was; were he Knight, Esquire, or Captain; less he could not be.

Mill. Wife.

Thou art mine own child, Boy.

Son.

And was the Miller my father?

Mill. Wife.

Wouldst thou make thy mother a whore, Knave?

Son.

I, if she make me a Bastard. The Rack must make her confess, I shall never come to know who I am else. I have a worshipful mind in me sure: methinks I do scorn poor folks.

Julio.

You both shall be rewarded bountifully. We'll be a kin too, Bro­ther and Sister shall be chang'd with us ever.

To the Miller and his wife.
Son.

Thank you (Uncle) my Sister is my Cousin yet at the last cast: farewell Sister-foster. If I had known the Civil Law would have allowed it, thou hadst had another manner of husband then thou hast: but much good do thee; I'll dance at thy Wedding, kiss the Bride, and so.

Julio.

Why how now, Sirrah?

Mill. Son.

'Tis lawful now, she's none of my sister.

It was a Miller and a Lord
That had a Scabbard and a Sword,
He put it up in the Country word,
The Miller and his Daughter.
[Page 181]She has a face, and she can sing,
She has a grace, and she can spring;
She has a place, with another thing,
Tradoodle.

I would I were acquainted with your Taylor (noble Brother.)

Orante.

You may, there he is.

Taylor.

If you have any work for me, I can fit you. Sir, I fitted the Lady.

Son.

My sister (Taylor)? VVhat fits her, will hardly fit me: you have a true Yard (Taylor)?

Taylor.

Ne'r a whit too long, I warrant you.

Son.
Then (Taylor) march with me away;
I scorn these Robes, I must be gay,
My Noble Brother he shall pay
Tom Taylor.
Exeunt.

The DOCTORS of Dull-head Colledge.

ARGUMENT.

A Love-sick Gentleman, by the over-curious care of his kindred, is perplexed with unnecessary Physitians, who are by some of his merry Visitants and Companions baf­fled, and he released from their vexation.

Enter Doctors with an Urinal▪
1 Ph.

A Pleurisie, I see it.

2 Ph.

I rather hold for tremor cordis.

3 Ph.

Do you mark the Foeces?

2 Ph.

'Tis a most pestilent contagious Feaver, a Sur­fet, a plaguy Surfet: he must bleed.

1 Ph.

By no means.

3 Ph.

I say, bleed.

1 Ph.

I say 'tis dangerous, the person being spent so much beforehand, and nature drawn so low: Clysters, cool Clysters.

2 Ph.

Now, with your favour, I should think a Vo­mit; for take away the Cause, the Effect must follow: the stomack's foul and fur'd, the pot's inflam'd yet.

Enter servant.
Serv.

Will it please you draw near? the sick Gentle­man grows worse and worse still.

1 Ph.

We will attend him.

2 Ph.
[Page 183]

He shall do well, my friend.

Serv.

My Masters love, Sir.

3 Ph.

There's no doubt in him, none at all, never fear him.

Exeunt.
Enter Frank sick, Physitians, an Apothecary.
1 Ph.

Clap on the Cataplasm.

Fr.

Good Gentlemen, good learned Gentlemen.

2 Ph.

And see those broths there ready within this hour: pray keep your arms in; the air is raw, and mini­sters much evil.

Fr.

Pray leave me, I beseech you leave me, Gentle­men, I have no other sickness but your presence; con­vey your Cataplasms to those that need 'em, your Vo­mits and your Clysters.

3 Ph.

Pray be rul'd, Sir.

1 Ph.

Bring in the Lettice Cap; you must be shav'd, Sir, and then how suddenly we'll make you sleep!

Fr.

Till Dooms-day: What unnecessary nothings are these about a wounded mind?

2 Ph.

How do ye?

Fr.

VVhat questions they propound too! How do you, Sir? I am glad to see you well.

3 Ph.

A great distemper, it grows hotter still.

1 Ph.

Open your mouth, I pray, Sir.

Fr.

Can you tell me how old I am then? there's my hand, pray shew me how many broken shins within this two year. VVho would be thus in fetters? Good Master Doctor, and you dear Doctor, and the third sweet Do­ctor, and as pretious Master Apothecary, I do pray you to give me leave to live a little longer: ye stand before me like my blacks.

[Page 184]Enter his Comrades.
Thomas.

How dost thou Frank? bear up, boy; what, shrink i'th' sinews for a little sickness?

Fr.

Thou art a mad Companion, never staid, Tom?

Thom.

Let Rogues be staid, that have no habitation, a Gentleman may wander: sit thee down, Frank, and see what I have brought thee: Come, discover, open the Scene, and let the work appear: a friend at need, you Rogue, is worth a Million.

Fr.

VVhat hast thou there, a Julip?

Hylas.

He must not touch it, 'tis present death.

Tom.

Ye are an ▪Ass, a Twir-pipe, a Jeffery-John-bo­peep: thou minister? thou mend a left-handed pack-sad­dle; out Puppy. My friend Frank, but a very foolish fellow: dost thou see that bottle? view it well.

Fr.

I do, Tom.

Thom.

There be as many lives in't as a Cat carries, 'tis everlasting liquor.

Fr.

VVhat?

Thom.

Old Sack, boy, old reverend Sack.

Fr.

I see no harm, Tom, drink with moderation.

Tom.

Drink't with Sugar, which I have ready here; and here's a glass, boy, fill it: hang up your Julips, and your Portugal-possets, your Barley-broths, and Sorrel sops; they are mangy, and breed the Scratches onely: give me Sack: have at thee.

Fr.

Do: I'll pledge thee.

Tho.

Take it off thrice, and then cry, Heigh! like a Huntsman, with a clear heart, and no more fits I'll war­rant thee; the onely Cordial, Frank.

1 Ph.

Are the things ready?

Serv.

Long since, Sir.

1 Ph.

Bring out the oyls then.

Fr.
[Page 185]

Now or never, Gentlemen, do me a kindness, and deliver me.

Thom.

From whom, boy?

Fr.

From those things that talk there, Physitians, Tom, Physitians, Scouring-sticks; they mean to read upon me.

Thom.

And be thou confident we will deliver thee: for look ye, Doctors, say the Devil were sick now, his horns saw'd off, and his head bound with a biggin, sick of a Calenture, taken by a surfet of stinking souls, at his Nephews and S. Dunstans, what would you minister upon the sudden? your Judgement, short and sound.

1 Ph.

A fools head.

Thom.

No Sir, it must be a Physitians, for three cau­ses; the first, because it is a bald-head likely, which will down easily without apple-pap.

3 Ph.

A main cause.

Thom.

So it is, and well considered. The second, for 'tis fill'd with broken Greek, Sir, which so tumbles in his stomach, Doctor, and works upon the Crudities, conceive me, the fears and the fiddle-strings within it, that those damned souls must disembogue again.

Hylas.

Or meeting with the Stygian humour.

Thom.

Right, Sir.

Hylas.

Forc'd with a Cataplasm of Crackers.

Thom.

Ever.

Hylas.

Scowre all before him like a Sca [...]inger.

Thom.

Satisfecisti Domine. My last cause, my last is, and not least, most learned Doctors, because in most Physitians heads (I mean those that are most excellent, and old withall, and angry, though a Patient say his prayers, and Paracelsians that do trade with poisons, we have it by tradition of great VVriters) there is a kinde of Toadstone bred, whose vertue the Doctor, being dry'd.

I Ph.
[Page 186]

VVe are abus'd, Sirs.

Hyl.

I take it so, or shall be: for say, the Belly-ach cau­sed by an inundation of Pease-porridge, are we there­fore to open the Port-vein, or the Port-Esquiline?

Sam.

A learned question: or grant the Diaphragma by a rupture, the Sign being then in the head of Capri­corn

Thom.

Meet with the passion Hypercondriaca, and so cause a Carnositie in the Kidneys, must not the brains being butter'd with this humour? answer me that.

Sam.

Most excellently argued.

2 Ph.

The next fit you will have, my most fine Scho­ler, Bedlam shall finde a salve for. Fare you well, Sir: we came to do you good, but these young Doctors, it seems, have boar'd our Noses.

3 Ph.

Drink hard, Gentlemen, and get unwholsom Drabs; 'tis ten to one then we shall hear farther from ye, your Note alter'd.

Exit Phys.
Sing.
Thom.

And wilt thou be gone, says one.

Hyl.

And wilt thou be gone, says tother.

Thom.
Then take, take the odd Crown,
To mend thy old Gown,
Sam.

And we'll be gone all together.

Fr.

My learned Tom, gramercy.

Exeunt.
The End.

Courteous Reader, these Books follow­ing are sold by Henry Marsh at the Princes Arms in Chancery-Lane.

Who for your Pleasure hath produc'd his Store;
And as you like, he'll furnish you with more.
Various Histories, with curious Discourses in Humane Learning.
  • 1. ACompendious Chronicle of Portugal, from Alfonso the first King, to Alfonso the sixth now Reigning: together with a Cosmographical Description of the Dominions of Portugal, by I. D. Gent. 8.
  • 2. That useful Book for Gentlemen and Travellers, being an Exact Description of the several Countries and Shires of England: by Edw. Leigh Esq. 8.
  • 3. Sage Senatour, or the qualifications of a perfect Politician: by I. G. Gent. 8
  • 4. Blood for Blood, or Murther revenged: in 35 Tragical Hi­stories: some whereof have been the sad Product of our Times. 8.
  • 5. Venus undrest, or the Practical part of Love, extracted out of the extravagant and lascivious Life of a fair but subtle Female. 8.
  • 6. An Historical and Geographical Description of the great County and River of the Amazons in America. 8.
  • 7. Royal History Compleated, in the Life of his Sacred Majesty Char [...]s [...]. Iames Duke of York, and Henry Duke of Gloucester; with their Restauration happily concluded by his Grace the Duke of Albemarle. 8.
  • 8. The most Notable Antiquity of Great Britain, vulgarly called Stone [...], on Salisbu [...]y-Plain: by I. Iones Esq. Architect-Gen. to the la [...]e K [...]ng. Fol.
  • 9. A Compl [...] at History of the Wars of the Greeks, Written by the learned [...], and Translated by Edw. Grimstone Esq, Ser­jean [...] at Arms to his [...] Majesty. Fol.
  • 10 Rumps Looking-Glass, or a Collection of such Pieces of Drollery as were [...] by several Wits to purge the Rump. 4.
  • 11. A New Discovery of High-way Thieves: by a Gentleman lately converted. 4.
  • [Page]12. Blood wash'd away by the tears of Repentance, or the Rela­tion of Butlers murdering of Knight in Milk-street. 40.
  • 13. The Faithful Lapidary, being a History of all pretious Stones: very useful for Gentlemen, Merchants and others. 40.
  • 14. A short view of the Life and Actions of the Illustrious Prince, Iames D. of York, with his Character. 4.
  • 15. The Rogue, or the Life of Gusman de Alfarache the witty Spaniard: the fifth and last Edition. 8.
  • 16 The States-man, or Modern Policie: the second Part. 8.
  • 17. The Compleat Attourney: fifth and last Edition. 8.
  • 18. Advice to Balaam's Ass, or Momus catechised, in answer to a certain Scribler I. H [...]yden, Author of Advice to a Daughter. 8.
  • 19. The Royal Buckler, or Salmasius in English. 8.
  • 20. The Devils Cabinet-Council discovered, or the Plots and Contrivances of O. Cromwel and the Long▪Parliament in order to the taking away the Life of his Sacred Majesty of blessed memory. 8.
  • 21. The Crafty Whore, or the Mysterie and Iniquity of Bawdy­houses: with Dehortations from Lust. Published for the benefit of all; but especially for the younger sort: by R. H. Esq. 8.
  • 22. Montelions Comical Almanacks for 1661, 1662, and 1663. 8.
  • 23. Montelions Introduction to Astrology, after a new but more easie way then ever yet published. 8.
  • 24. Whites Peripatetical Institutions: in the way of S. Kel. Digby. 12.
  • 25. Reynolds Word of Caution to the Atheists and Errouri [...]s of our Times. 12.
  • 26. Lucius Florus. 24.
  • 27. Salust. 24.
  • 28. Hanam's Exploits. 4.
  • 29. Leonards Reports. Fol.
  • 30. Gusmans Comical Almanack for 1662.
  • 31. The Soveraigns Prerogative, and the Subjects Priviledge: Comprised in several Speeches, Cases, and Arguments of Law, discussed between the Kings most Sacred Majesty, and the most eminent Persons of both Houses of Parliament: Collected by Dr. Tho. Fuller. Fol.
  • 32. I [...]dex Poeticus. 12.
  • 33. Synonima. 12.
  • 34. Fathers Blessing, or a Legacie to his son, fitting him to carry himself through the various Encounters of this world. 12.
  • 35. Rebels no Saints. 8.
  • 36. Letters of Monsieur Balzac: translated into English, by Sir R. Baker and others. 1.
  • 37. Monuments of the Kirk. 4.
  • [Page]38. The Life of that reverend Divine and learned Historian Dr. Tho. Fuller. 8.
  • 39. The History of the affairs of Scotland, under the conduct of the Illustrious and truly valiant Iames Marquess of Montross. 8.
  • 40. A short View of the Lives of those excellent Princes Henry D. of Gloucester, and Mary Princess of Orange, deceased. 8.
  • 41. Publick Good without private Interest, or a Relation of the present condition of Virginia. 4.
  • 42. L [...]ssius of health, with Cornaro's Treatise of Tempe­rance. 24.
  • 43. A new English Grammar, prescribing certain Rules for Foreiners to learn English: with a Grammar of the Spanish or Ca­stilian Tongue, with special Remarks upon the Portugees Dialect, &c. to which is annexed, a Perambulation of Spain and Portugal, which may serve for Direction to travel through both Countries, for the Service of Her Majesty, whom God preserve. 8.
  • 44. Advice to a Son, by a Marquess lately deceased. 12.
  • 45. The blood of the Grape: the second Edition, enlarged, by Dr. Tho. Whiker Physitian to His Majesty. 12.
  • 46. The Learners Help, by which he may presently finde out the Root of any Hebrew word in the Bible. 8.
  • 47. Man in Paradise: a Philosophical Discourse.
  • 48. The Differences of the Ages of Mans Life, together with the Original Causes, Progress, and End thereof. 8.
  • 49. The Rarities of Turkey. 8.
  • 50. Overbury Revived, or a Satyrical Description of the Vices of our late Times, in Essays and Characters, by L. G. 12.
  • 51. Natures chief Rarities. 12.
  • 52. Twelve Trea [...]ises of Mr. I. Howel Esq. 8.
  • 53. The true Portraiture of Her most excellent Majesty Donna Catherino Queen of Great Britain. Fol.
  • 54. The Fanatick in his Colours, or the Rise, Height, and Fall of Faction and Rebellion, from 1648, unto 1661. with an Ap­pendix concerning Allegiance, Government, and Order, by T. F. 8.
  • 55. Summum Bonum, or a Plain Path-way to Happiness, condu­cting the Soul to its Haven of Rest, through the stormy passage of Worldly troubles: to which is added a short Dialogue of that ex­cellent Vertue of the Submission of Mans Will to the Will of God. 8
  • 56. Mr. Shirley's Rudiments of Grammar. 8.
  • 57. A transparent Reet for the Catholick Planisphere. 4.
  • 58. Tabulae ad Grammatica Graeca introductoriae. 4.
  • 59. The Doctrine of the Ass: whereunto is added, the Asses complaint, Balaams Reply, and the Authors Apology, never before published, by Lewis Griffin. 4.
  • [Page]60. The History of Independency compleat; being the first, second, third, fourth and last Part, which may be had single by such as have bought the other. 4.
Excellent Tracts in Divinity, Controversie, Sermons and Devotions, written by eminent Divines.
  • 61. Considerations upon the Act of Uniformity, with an Expe­dient for the satisfaction of the Clergy in the Province of Can­terbury: by a servant of the God of Peace. 4.
  • 62. Christian Diary, by N. Causin. 12.
  • 63. The Doctrines Tryal, with a Present for Caesar: in three Sermons, by S. H. 12.
  • 64. The Society of the Saints, in 14 choice Sermons: by I. B. M. A. 4.
  • 65. The Christian Souldier his Combat, Conquest, and Crown; against the three Arch-enemies of Mankind, the World, the Flesh, and the Devil. 12.
  • 66. The Subjects Sorrow, or Lamentations upon the Death of Britains Iosiah, K Ch. expressed in a Sermon upon Lam. 4. 20. 12.
  • 67. The unspotted High-Court of Justice erected and discover­ed: in three Sermons, by Th. Baker, a sequestred Divine. 12.
  • 68. Bishop Iewels Apology, Greek and Latine. 12. and 8.
  • 69. The pious Prentice, wherein is declared how they that in­tend to be Prentices may
    • 1 Rightly enter into the Calling.
    • 2 Faithfully abide in it.
    • 3 Discreetly accomplish it. 12.
  • 70. Toward the Vindication of the second Commandment: by Edm. Gurn [...]y, B. D. 12.
  • 71. The free and honourable Servant: wherein is shewed, that to be a Servant of the Lord, is a Title of the greatest honour, and a Place of the best Preferment: by I Fowler, M. A. &c. 8.
  • 72 Three excellent Sermons upon these following Subjects:
    • True Repentance the Safety of a Nation: upon Ioel. 2. 14.
    • The Love of Christ to his Church: upon Luke 22. 31, 32.
    • The Saints Incouragement: upon Luke 11 13. 8.
  • 73. The Fear of God and the King: pressed in a Sermon, by Matth. Griffith, D. D. 8.
  • 74. Dr. Fullers triple Reconciler. 8.
  • 75. The baptized Turk, or the Conversion of a Native Turk to the Christian Religion: by Dr. Warmstrey, Dr. Gunning, &c. 8.
  • [Page]76. Golden Remains of a Reverend Divine lately deceased. 8.
  • 77. News from the Pulpit for the present Age and Posterity: by I. Iones, D. D. 12.
  • 78. Dr. Warmestrey on the Sacrament. 24.
  • 79. Hooks fatal Doom to the Reprobate, or an Excellent Com­ment on the 1 Cor. 16. 22. 12.
  • 80. The Presbyterian Bramble, or a short Discourse of Church-Government: by L. G. 4.
Choice Poems, by eminent Wits of this Age.
  • 81. Poems inriched with Wit, Mirth, and Eloquence: Written by Sir A. C. Knight. 80.
  • 82. Select Poems on several occasions: by S. Pordage, Gent. 8.
  • 83. Mundorum Explicatio, or the explanation of an Hieroglyphi­cal figure, wherein are couched the Mysteries of the External, Internal, and Eternal World: being a sacred Poem, written by S. P. Armig. 8.
  • 84. Clevelands Poems. 8.
  • 85. Regale Lectum Miseriae, or a Kingly Bed of Miserie: in which is contained a Dream, with other Poems: by I. Quarles, the last Impression. 8.
  • 86. Heroical Lover: by Tho. Buncroft. 8.
  • 87. Poems of Mr. I. Crouch, Gent. Fol. and 4.
Incomparable Comedies, and Tragedies, written by several Ingenious Authors.
  • 88. The Worlds Idol-Plutus, a Comedy, written in Greek by Aristophanes, translated by H. H. B. O. [...].
  • 89. Am [...]nta; the famous Pastoral: Originally in Italian, tran­slated by I D. 8.
  • 90. The Shepherds Paradise: a Comedy privately acted before the late King Charles, by the Queens Majestie and Ladies of Ho­nour: written by [...]. Montague, Esq. 8.
  • 91. Lusts Dominion, or the Lascivious Queen: an excellent Tragedy; by Christ. Manlae, Gent. 12.
  • 92. Loves Mistress, or the Queens Masque: by F. Heywood. 4.
  • 93. Spanish Gipsie: acted with general applause: written by Tho. Middleton and W. Rowley, Gent. 4.
  • 94. Thracian Wonder; a Comical History: written by I. web­ster and W. Rowley, 4.
  • [Page]95. That pleasant and merry Comedy, entituled, Gammar Gur­tons Needle, acted 100 years ago at C. C. Cambridge. 4.
  • 96. A pleasant Comedy, called, The two merry Milk-maids: by I. C. 4.
  • 97. The Queen of Aragon: a Tragi-Comedy. Fol.
  • 98. The obstinate Lady: a new Comedy, the Scene London, by Sir A. Cockain. 4.
  • 99. The French School-master, a Comedy. 4.
  • 100. A Cure for a Cuckold: a Comedy, by I. Webster and W. Rowley. 4.
  • 101. The Maids Revenge: a Tragedy, by I. Shirley.
  • 102. Troades: a Tragedie, written in Latine by Seneca, English­ed by S. P. Gent. 8.
  • Three new Plays: viz. The
  • 103. Noble Ingratitude: a Pastoral Tragi-Comedy. 12.
  • 104. The enchanted Lovers: a Pastoral. 12.
  • 105. The Amorous Fantasm: a Tragi-Comedy, by Sir W. Lower Knight. 12.
  • 106. The merry conceited Humours of Bottom the Weaver. 4.
  • 107. A pleasant Dialogue between Band, Cuff, and Ruff: done by an excellent Wit. 4.
  • 108. Hells Higher Court of Justice, or the Tryal of the three Politick Ghosts, viz. O. Cromwel, K. Sweden, and Card. Mazarine. 4.
  • 109. The City Night-cap: a Tragy-Comedy, by R. Davenport. 4.
  • 110. The Rump: a Come [...]y, by I. T. Gent. 4.
  • 111. Tom Tyler and his wife, an excellent old Play, acted about 100 years ago. 4.
  • 112. A true, perfect, and exact Catalogue of all the Comedies Tragedies, Tragy-Comedies, Pastorals, Masques, and Interludes, that were ever yet printed and published till this present year, 1662 All which you may either buy of, or sell to the above said Henry Marsh.
Excellent and approved Treatises in Physick and Chyrurgerie.
  • 113. Occult Physick, in three Books:
    • The first of Beasts, Trees, Herbs, and their Magical Ver­tues. 8.
    • The second containing Rare Medicines for all diseases happening to the bodies of both men and women, never till now made publick.
    • [Page]The third shewing how to cure all Diseases with ten medicament [...].
    • To which is added a Tract how to judge of a Disease by the af­fliction of the Moon, upon the sight of the Patients Urine, by W. W. &c. 8.
  • 114. A Physical Discourse of the cure of Diseases by Signature, by R. Bunworth. 12.
  • 115. A new discovery of the French Disease, and Running of the Reins, their causes, signs; with plain and easie directions for perfect curing the same: the second Edition, by R. Bunworth Do­ctour in Physick. 8.
New and excellent Romances of the most eminent Wits.
  • 116. Choice Novels, delightfull and profitable: written ori­ginally by one of the prime Wi [...]s of Spain; now made English by a person of quality. Fol.
  • 117. English Lovers, or a Girl worth Gold: both parts, so of­ten acted with general applause, now newly formed into a Romance, by the accurate pen of I. D. Gent. 8.
  • 118. Amadis de Gaule, a Romance, sixth and last part, transla­ted out of French into English, by F. K. 4.
  • 119. Clerio and Lozia their loves and adventures: a Romance, rendred into English by F. K. 8.
  • 120. Don Iuan Lamberto, or a Comical History of the late times: in two parts, by Montelion Knight of the Oracle, &c. 4.
Poetical, with several accurately-ingenious Treatises lately published.
  • 121. The Rump, or an exact collection of the choicest Poems and Songs relating to the late times, by the most eminent Wi [...]s, from Anno 1639. to Anno 1661. 8.
  • 122. Fragmenta Aulica, or Court and State Jests, in noble Drollery, true and real, ascertained to their times, places, and per­sons, by T. S. Gent. 12.
  • 123. Studii Legalis ratio, or directions for the Study of the Law, under these following heads:
    • [Page]The Qualifications for the Study. by W. P.
    • The Nature of the Study. by W. P.
    • The Means of the Study. by W. P.
    • The Method of the Study. by W. P.
    • The Time & of the Study. by W. P.
    • The Place of the Study. by W. P.
Books newly Printed.
  • 124. The glories and magnificent Triumphs of the blessed Re­stitution of his Sacred Majesty K Charles II. from his arrival in Holland 1659/60 till this present; comprizing all the Honours and Grandeurs done to, and conferred by him; by I. Heath, Gent. 8.
  • 125. The Wits, or Sport upon Sport. 8.
  • 126. Four choice Sermons preached in Oxford:
    • 1 Christians excellency, upon Mat. 5. 47.
    • 2 Truth begets Enmity, upon Gal. 4. 16.
    • 3 A Nations happiness is a good King, [...]ccles. 10. 17.
    • 4 The praise of Charity, upon Heb. 13. 16. by I. Price. M. A. &c. 8.
  • 127. The Sollicitor: exactly and plainly declaring, both as to Knowledge and Practice, wherein such an Und [...]rtaker ought to be qualified: as also, his Parts, Qualities, and fitting Endowments for such a weighty employment. Shewing further the particular of suing a person priviledged, and how the same may by course of Court sue any Forreiner. In a more special manner then hath ever been heretofore published by any hand whatsoever. Being truly useful for all sorts of persons who have any important business in Law or Equity. By T. M. Esq twelve years a Practitioner, and now of the Middle▪Temple▪ London.
Plays newly Printed.
  • 128. The poor Scholar, a Comedy, by R. N. Fellow of K. C. C. 4.
  • 129. The birth of Merlin, or the Child hath found his Father: written by W. Shakespear and W. Rowley.
  • 130. Any thing for a quiet Life: a Comedy: by Tho. Middleton, Gent. 4.
Books I purpose to print very speedily.
  • [Page]131. A good Companion, or serious Meditations on the Mise­ries of mans Life, and of Death, by W. Winstanly.
  • 132. The unfortunate Usurper: a Tragedy, the Scene Constan­tinople.
  • 133. Profit and Pleasure for Gentlemen and Yeomen: contain­ing a Miscelany of R [...]creations and Experiments, &c.
  • 134. Virgil in Droll. by Scurron, Englished by Montelion Knight of the Oracle, &c.
  • 135. A Discourse concerning the preservation and prolongation of H [...]alth: written in French, by F. de Monginot, Chancellour and Physitian in Ordinary to the King, and Doctour of Physick in the most famous and ancient University of Mont-Pellier; now En­glished by P. Belon, Chymist and Apoth▪ for the benefit of his Country-men.
FINIS.

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.