Covent Garden a pleasant comedie: acted in the yeare, MDCXXXII. By the Queenes Majesties Servants. The author Thomas Nabbes.

Covent Garden a pleasant comedie: acted in the yeare, MDCXXXII. By the Queenes Majesties Servants. The author Thomas Nabbes.

Table of contents

Title page

TO THE RIGHT WORTHY OF HIS HONOVRS Sr. JOHN SUCKLING Knight.

The PROLOGVE.

The PERSONS.

1

Act. 1. Scoen. 1.

The second Scoene.

The third Scoene.

The fourth Scoene.

The fifth Scoene.

The sixth Scoene.

2

Act. 2. Scoen. 1.

The second Scoene.

The third Scoene.

The fourth Scoene.

The fifth Scoene.

The sixth Scoene.

The seventh Scoene.

3

Act. 3. Scoen. 1.

The second Scoene.

The third Scoene.

The fourth Scoene.

The fifth Scoene.

4

Act. 4. Scoen. 1.

The second Scoene.

The third Scoene.

The fourth Scoene.

The fifth Scoene.

The sixth Scoene.

5

Act. 5. Scoen. 1.

The second 〈◊〉

The third Scoene.

The fourth Scoene.

The fifth Scoene.

The sixth Scoene.

The EPILOGVE.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

COVENT GARDEN: A PLEASANT COMEDIE: Acted in the YEARE, MDCXXXII. By the Queenes Majesties Servants.

The Author THOMAS NABBES.

LONDON, Printed by RICHARD OULTON, for CHARLES GREENE; and are to be sold at the Signe of the White Lyon, in PAULS Church-yard. 1638.

TO THE RIGHT WORTHY OF HIS HONOVRS Sr. JOHN SUCKLING Knight.

[Page]

[Page]

SIR,

THere is no excuse for this my presumption, but a presumption [...]pon your [...]

It is likewise an error in my weaknesse, to put so meane a piece to a second tryall; when in your perusall it will meet with a more piercing judgement, then the Stages, that gave it some partiall allowance. For the stile, 'tis humble: ‘ [...]rpit humi tutus nimium, timidus (que) procellae.’

[Page] Your owne is Pindarus, mine Bacchylides. Yet I would have endeavour'd to make the persons speake better, had it been proper to their condition. As you are a Patron to all good endeavours, you merit to be the subject of many Encomiums: But your selfe by your selfe in making the world (which can never be sufficiently gratefull for it) happy in the publication of your late worthy labour, have prevented the intentions of many to dignifie that in you which is so farr above them. My hope is, that by your favourable acceptance of this, I may gaine some opinion with others; to whom I have and alwayes do declare my selfe in my desires ambitious to be knowne by you at the becoming distance of

Your honourer and humble Servant THOMAS NABBES.

The PROLOGVE.

[Page]

DOe not expect th' abuses of a Place;

Nor th'ills sprung from a Strumpets painted face

To be exprest. Our Author doth not meane

With such vile stuffe to clothe his modest Scoene.

Nor doth he brand it with a Satyres marke;

But makes a Justice wiser then his Clerke.

His Rusticks likewise will pretend to Wit:

So all the Persons which wee counterfeit.

He justifies that 'tis no borrow'd Straine,

From the invention of anothers braine.

Nor did he steale the Fancie. 'Tis the same

Hee first intended by the proper Name.

'Twas not a toyle of yeares: few weekes brought forth

This rugged Issue, might have beene more worth

If he had lick'd it more. Nor doth he raise

From th' imitation of authenticke Playes

Matter or words to height: nor bundle up

Conceits at Tavernes where the Wits doe sup.

His Muse issolitary, and alone

Doth practise her low speculation.

He hath no faction in a partiall way,

Prepar'd to cry it up, and boast the Play,

Swelling your expectations: hee relies

Meerely upon your ingenuities.

The Matter's weake: how can the Building stand?

Yes; if supported by a gratious Hand.

The PERSONS.

[Page]

DVNGVVORTH. A Countrey Gentleman.

RALPH.

DOBSON.

His Servants.

Mris. TONGALL. A busie Gossip.

THEODORE ARTLOVE. A compleat Gentleman.

LITTLEWORD. A reputed Witt.

HVGH IERKER. A wilde Gallant.

IEFFEREY IERKER. A lad of the same humour.

DOROTHY WORTHY. Daughter to Sir GENE.

SVSAN. A Waiting-woman to the Lady.

WARRANT. Clerke to Sir GENEROVS.

SPRVCE. Gentleman Vsher to the Lady.

Lady WORTHY.

Sir GENEROVS WORTHY.

Young WORTHY. His Son.

DASHER. A complementing Vintener.

DRAVVER.

CONSTABLE.

The Scoene COVENT-GARDEN.

1

1

[Page]

Act. 1. Scoen. 1.

Enter DVNGVVORTH, RALPH, and DOBSON, as newly come to Towne by the right SCOENE.

DOBSON.

_ [...] we are come to London, fellow Ralph what shall we doe? or what course will our Master take with us?

Ralph.

Why, Dobson; he may doe what he will, and wee will doe what we list. A little instruction and practice will make us wicked enough, I dare warrant thee.

Dobs.

I hope we are not to learne that. But all this while the Plough stands still.

Ralph.

Sha, Dobson; thy mind's upon nothing but dirt.

Dobs.

Indeed heer's store of it, ankcle deepe.

Dung.

What place is this Ralph? thou knowst London.

Ralph.

It should be COVENT-GARDEN; but 'tis much alter'd since I was here last.

Dungw.

A Garden call you it! 'Tis a very barren one.

Dobs.

I would I were at home againe, amongst the Creame-bowles.

[Page]Ralph.

I cou'd be content to have the tother sm [...]cke at o [...]r Gillian the Dayry-Maids sugar-candy—

Dobs.

How, fellow Ralph! you kisse my Sweet-heart Gillian! pronounce it againe, and by the faith of a new made Serving-man, that puts his whole trust in his Live [...]y and the Quarter-dayes, I will kill thee presently, and challenge thee the next Holi-day before the Congregation.

Ralph.

Kill me fi [...]st, and then challenge me! for a kisse or two! nay, good Dobsox; she has lips big enough to serve us both. Prethee lets not fall o [...]t and beat one another: these people would but laugh at us for't.

Dobs.

Indeed 'tis a jolly company. Dwell they all here abouts?

Ralph.

I scarce thinke they are all of one Parish, neither doe they goe to one Church. They come onely for an evening recreation [...]o s [...]e COVENT-GARDEN.

Dobs.

Blessings on their hearts for it. 'Tis a goodly place.

Ralph.

And a god [...]y one too if rumour lie not.

Dung.

What are all these things with rayles?

Ralph.

I thinke mewes for hawkes, or ayrings for gentles. Other hawkes are not here in any request.

Dung.

Mewes for hawkes, thou wouldst make mee a Buzzard.

Dobs.

Dost thinke we shall dwell hereabouts?

Ralph.

I hope so: we shall then be n [...]ere the Cock-p [...]t, and see a Play now and then.

Dobs.

But tell me Ralph, are those Players the ragged fellowes that were at our house last Christmas, that borrowed the red blanket off my bed to make their Major a gowne; and had the great Pot-lid for Guy of Warwicks Buckler?

Ralph.

No, Dobson; they are men of credit, whose actions are beheld by every one, and allow'd for the most part with commendations. They make no yearely Progresse with the Anatomy of a S [...]mpter-horse, laden with the sweepings of Long-lane in a dead Vacation, and purchas'd [Page] at the exchange of their owne whole Wardrobes. They buy not their Ordinary for the Copie of a Prologue; nor insinuate themselves into the acquaintance of an admiring Ningle, who for his free comming in, is at the expence of a Taverne Supper, and rinses their bawling throats with Canarye.

Dobs.

But I would I had stay'd still in the Countrey, now Sports are tollerated, in despite of Justice, Troublesome's malicious Authoritie. I had rather see a Morrisdance and a May-pole, then ten Playes: what care I for wit which I understand not?

Ralph.

The duller Asse tho [...].

Dobs.

How, Asse to my face! provoke me no more with such foule language, lest I enter and act thy Tragedy.

Ralph.

Nay, prethee fellow Dobson; if we abuse our selves sometimes, 'twill be the better taken when wee ab [...]se others.

Dung.

To morrow Ile have you acco [...]tred in liveries, and put my selfe into a gentile garbe. I am resolv'd to forsake the Countrey profession of mine Auncestors; and meane to turne Gallant. Ile sell some few dirty Acres, and buy a Knighthood: Ile translate my Farme of Dirt-all into the Mannor of No-place. Would I were acquainted with an honest Scrivener.

Ralph.

You wish an impossibility, unlesse the Pillory were more terrible.

Dobson.

But doe you meane to sell your Land?

Dung.

Yes indeed; I shall be the likelier to goe to heaven when I forsake earth.

Ralph.

But 'tis a dangerous way through a Scriveners conscience.

Dung.

What dost tell me of danger! 'Tis the Cowards bug-beare; a scar-crow to City gulls, that dare not weare swords for feare of being challeng'd.

Dobs.

Nay, my Master is as tall a man of his inches.

Dung.

Yes, Dobson; thou hast seene me doe something. [Page] But sirrah, let it be your charge to finde out a good Inne; see Crop eat his meat.

Dobs.

Ile warrant Sir, hee'l cat his meate, and 'twere Good-friday.

Ralph.

Had he but cares then, hee might make a very good Puritan horse.

Dung.

Indeed, their best vertue is to heare well.

Ralph.

But their doing sometimes, begets a hotter zeale in the Sister-hood.

Dungw.

I'le have a lodging heere. Prethee aske that Gentlewoman; shee seems an inhabitant.

The second Scoene.

Enter Mris. TONGALL, by the right Scoene.

Ralph.

Pray Master, know you hereabouts any convenient Lodgings?

Tong.

Many Sir, for convenient persons.

Dungw.

Of credit, and unsuspicious.

Tong.

It is not in my understanding; wherefore the satisfaction I can give you will be doubtfull. I know none of my neighbours better then my selfe. I have as handsome Lodgings as any are in Covent Garden: my foreroomes have a faire prospect, and my back-roomes a sweet ayre.

Ralph.

Which is not usuall backwards.

Dung.

May we see them?

Tong.

If you please to let that Taverne receive you till I have made them ready, I will returne and give you notic [...].

Dung.

I'le sup there: shall I intreat your company?

Tong▪

I shall be ready to fulfill your desires.

Dobs.

And we our bellies: hitherto, we have had but a hungry journey of it.

Dungwell and Dobson goe forth by the left Scoene.

[Page]Tong.

My friend, pray what's your Masters name?

Ralph.

What if it be not in my Commission to tell you?

Tong.

My demands are civill and for no hurt. I must know before my house can give him entertainment.

Ralph.

But I must not tell you, till I have a mind to [...]. You may be the agent to an Informer: doe you not correspond with the Summer and Apparitour, to keepe your selfe off some deserv'd punishment.

Tong.

I am a patient bearer.

Ralph.

Not unlikely, I have heard there are many such in Covent-Garden.

Tong.

I meane with your unmanerlinesse.

Ralph.

If a downe-right▪ Countrey thing will please you.

Tong.

A downe-right! you make me blus [...].

Ralph.

This interest then, and—

Tong.

So Sir, the termes are not equall for such familiaritie.

Ralph.

Why then you must seeke you a more proportion'd Schoole-master to enter you farther, and teach you my Masters name. The Wine stayes, and I want it.

Tong.

Good friend stay a little, and tell me thy Masters name.

Ralph.

What agen! Fare you well, I have forgot it.

Tong.

Nay, prethee friend: my knowledge of it may much concerne his, or (if not) thy good. My daughter Iynny's a handsome girle, he that pleaseth me best shall have her.

Ralph.

I rather thinke hee shall have her that pleaseth her best, else I shall doubt her for a woman. But how can s [...]e concerne our goods? your instance.

Tong.

Nay, credit me upon my word, 'tis earnest.

Ralph.

A Womans word! 'tis not worth an ounce of feathers. Besides, you may be under covert barne. Have you not a Husband?

Tong.

Yes indeede.

[Page]Ralph.

What's his profession?

Tong.

An under-Lawyer, an Attourney.

Ralph.

His word may be taken in the terme for a gown-facing or so: but to doe any man good, is worth a double fee, if he performe it. Mistris, if you must know my Masters name, goe to Carterton in the Countie of Sussex, and there in the Church-Register you shall finde, that Roger the sonne of Rowland Dungworth of Dirtall Farme in the Parish of Carterton aforesaid, was baptised—But stay, I'le know first if he be resolved to continue a Christian; 'tis ordinary to change names with religion. Besides, hee means to be a Knight; and Dungworth will stink in the delicate nostrils of a Lady: it may make the heraul [...]s give him a mock-coate with three kennell-rakers. Farewell sweet Mistris, and if my Master chance to lie at your house, I should be glad if I might lie over your Daughter.

Tong.

Farewell good friend. The Gentleman to lye at my house! very good. I must project a profit out of the accident; a new Gowne, or a Beaver, or some composition with a bond of assurance, when I procure him a good Wife. Perhaps hee shall have my Daughter Iynny. Who would thinke this little body of mine were so busie in stirring actions, Master Theodore Art-love!

The third Scoene.

Enter ART-LOVE by the right Scoene.

Artl.

Mistresse Tongall, you are delighting your selfe with these new erections.

Tong.

Faire erections are pleasing things.

Artl.

Indeed they are faire ones, and their uniformity addes much to their beauty.

Tong.

How like you the Balconee's? They set off a Ladies person well, when she presents her selfe to the view [Page] of gazing passengers. Artificiall fucations are not discern'd at distance.

Artl.

Pray which is Sir Generous Worthie's house?

Tong.

Your desires (I believe) are bent towards his faire Daughter. Let me ayd you: my neighbour-hood hath interested me in her acquaintance; I can make way; and truely Mr. Art-love I like you so well, that (were she worthy) you should have my daughter Iynnye. But doe you love Mistris Dorothy?

Artl.

I have seene her beauty, and her nimble eyes

Have shot a fire into me, that inflam [...]'s

My cold desires. I that have resisted

Th' assaults of passion to a perfect conquest;

And call'd it (justly too) the height of folly

To give that wanton Power the attribute

Of a false Deity: I, that have out-gone

Th' example of Zenocrates, am captiv'd;

But by a Beauty, such as would review

Heat in the frozen bosome of an Anchorite,

Who hath spent his age even to decrepitnesse

In such austerities as would mortifie

The strongest pamperd wantonnesse. I cove [...]

A good successe, but faile in't. Never yet

Could I be blest with opportunity

To shew her my desires, and to try

The fortune of perswasion.

Tong.

And would you not use me! hath so long practise in match-making made me politicke to contrive, and my conversation with your selfe and the rest of the Wits made me complementall, and doe you thinke I cannot facilitate your entrance to Mistris Dorothy?

Artl.

Should I be fortunate in my attempts

To win her liking; should my person please her,

Or that annexion to my better part

Of education, yet the disparitie

Betwixt our states, checks me from hoping

[Page] That the designe can prosper. The lighter fire

Nere mixeth with the earth, but to confusion: Or from their severall natures bringing forth Events prodigious.

Tong.

Why, you are an Heyre to a thousand pound a yeare. An officious lye may be dispens't with.

Artl.

But simple honesty

Clad in the naked livery of truth

Is a most glorious vertue, that preserves

White innocence unstain'd with falshood.

Good meanes as well as good intention

Must make an act good.

Tong.

If you have such a tender conscience, so religiously scrupulous, you'l never be a Politician.

Artl.

Let those that study mischiefe

To satisfie their sensualties

Practise such wickednesse. I'de not abuse

A noble goodnes to possesse the Indies.

Tong.

But heere's one will, and I must ayd him int▪ Mr. Littleword.

The fourth Scoene.

Enter LITTLEVVORD, IERKER and IEFFERY, by the right Scoene.

Ierk.

Friend Art-love, the good fortune of a petticote light upon thee, in the name of Venery what mak'st thou here? art' in quest of a smock-bedfellow.

Artl.

Thy old humour still friend.

Ierker.

Prethee salute this little gentleman my Cousin: he hath more age and wit then his small proportion doth promise.

Artl.

I shall be ready to serve him.

Ieffr.

Your acquaintance will adde much to my happinesse.

[Page]Ierk.

He hath gotten leave of his Vncle to liue here in my tuition. Hee thrive's well in his conceit, a right Ierker; he begins to love a wench already.

Art.

Thy instruction and example will soone enable him that way.

Ieffr.

Is not that a wench Cousin?

Ierk.

Try Cos. and satisfie your selfe.

Ieffr.

My Little-word, if your salute be ended, pray resigne. Nay, Mistris, I can kisse you without the helpe of a joyn'd stoole: please you to walke, and let my hand support you.

Tong.

Whither pray you little sir?

Ieffr.

To the next vaulting [...]schoole.

Tong.

Alas, you cannot get up without a stirrop.

Ieff.

Yes, and ride too without falling; please you to trye my activenesse.

Art.

Prethee recall thy wonted goodnesse home,

And with a vertuous scorne shake off this habit

Of loose desires; it hath infection in it.

Ierk.

Nothing comes from thee but documents. I sweare I should love thee much better if thou hadst lesse vertue. I prethee leave thy Stoicisme, and become an Epicure with me. My little Cos. here shall prove with undenyable arguments that drinking and wenching are the onely vertues in a gentleman of the last edition: to be excellent at them is a master-piece of education. Besides, they are the onely acumens of wit.

Artl.

Yes, to disease it.

Ierk.

Take heed thy iudgement be not brought in question. Why diseas'd wits are—

Ieffr.

Better play at small game then sit out. A young gamester may throw in and in.

Tong.

Very seldome with three dice. Can your littlenesse cogge?

Ieffr.

Faire play is a gamesters glory. I love to shake the boxe well, and than let them run their length.

[Page]Artl.

Yes, I confesse it; where there is an union

Of loving hearts, the joy exceed's expression.

That love is vertuous whose desires doe never

End in their satisfaction, but increase

Towards the object. When a beautious frame

Garnish't with all the lustre of perfection

Invite's the eye, and tells the searching thoughts

It holds a richer minde, with which my soule

Would rather mixe her faculties.

Ieffr.

Iudge not of a man by his outward dimensions: My shape is not so defective to make you doubt performance: let's finde out a convenient place and try.

Tong.

Alas little one, you'l lose your selfe: you'l never hit the way home.

Ierker.

'Tis a blisse above the faign'd Elysium

To claspe a dainty waste; to kisse a lip

Melts into Nectar; to behold an eye

Shoot amorous fires, that would warme cold Statues

Into a life and motion; play with hayre

Brighter then that was stellifyed.

And when the wanton appetite is cloy'd

With thousand satisfactions of this kind,

Then follow's th' absolutenesse

Of all delight. But were desire restrain'd

From variation, soone 'twould satiate,

And glut it selfe to loathing.

Ieffr.

Please you to drinke a pint or two of wine? there may be provocation in it.

Tong.

Preserve your courtesie child, and your money: Lent's at hand, and then every street will afford boyes recreation.

Ieff.

Why how now impudence! do you slout a man?

Ierk.

How, a man Cousin!

Ieffr.

I want not so much of my full age to bee cal'd a boy.

Artl.

But you must not fall out with the Gentlewoman.

[Page]Ieffr.

I desire rather to have fal'n in with her.

Ierk.

I would not have you so forward Cousin. You must be sure to deale with sound ware.

Ieffr.

What care I? 'tis but the losse of a mans hayre; an excrementall ornament: wit consists not in't. A man may cover his baldnesse with a periwig, and the fashion take's away the suspition. I hope I came to London to learne wit and the fashion.

Tong.

Come Mr. Little-word.

Artl.

Adiew Mistris Tongall.

Exeunt Tongall and Little-word, by the right Scoene.

Ieffr.

I tooke her rather for a Wag-taile.

Art.

What silent Gentleman's that?

Ierk.

His Character in his owne language is I and no; yet he speaks well in paper. He is a wit, but somewhat a dull one.

Artl.

What serious affaire have they together?

Ierk.

There are hidden pollicies in the world. Thou hast a bookish humour; I a wenching one; and why may not his dulnes dreame of some rich match! Mris. Tongal's the onely match-maker in the Towne.

Artl.

Those words create a hell of torment in me.

Is there no love

But what's attended by vaine jealousie!

Ierk.

Art thou in love?

Artl.

Yes, passionately.

My dreamings, wakings, thoughts and actions

Are nothing but desire.

Ierk.

I can assoone credit an impossibility. Thou in love! why 'tis more improbable then the projection of draining Marsh-land with a wind-mill. But prethee what is shee?

[Page]

The fifth Scoene.

Enter DOROTHY SVSAN in the Balcone.

Artl.

See where my comforts Sun

Breaks through a clowd. Oh that this unkind distance

Might be contracted into lesser ayre:

I'de then convey my whispers to her eares;

And teach her understanding what delight

Society hath in it.

Ierk.

Sure thou hast not boldnes enough to speake to her. Thou wouldst blush, and fall into some patheticall booke discourse, or tell her the story of Hero and Leander, to make her tendernesse whine. Tis not the way. Get accesse to her; and after one mannerly salute, double and treble thy kisses; tumble her a little, and if opportunity serve, offer the rest: Magick hath not a Philter like it.

Ieffr.

Is not that a house (Cousin) where the Wenches are?

Ierk.

Yes, questionlesse.

Ieffr.

I meane in the sense of—

Dorot.

Yonder Gentlemen observe us: let's be gone.

Susan.

Not yet (Mistris Dorothy.) Now I have drunke a cup of Sack, I must be in love with one of them, him that seemes most worthy of a gentleuman.

Dorot.

You have fall'n my glove.

Sus.

I'le fetch it.

Exeunt from the Balcone.

Artl.

Blest accident;

Why doe you stop my hast? let me embrace it.

Thus with religious worship doe I kisse

What your white hand hath hallow'd. Ha! shee's gone▪

What envious mischiefe intercepts the meanes

Of my desired happinesse! or have mine eyes

Wasted their beames in gazing on the place

[Page] Where I first saw her, to imagination

Fancying her figure.

Ieffr.

Sure Cousin the gentleman is in love; he talks very madly.

Artl.

Where are the powers of my intellect?

Reason and understanding have forsaken

Their proper seates, and left strong passions

To triumph o're this captiv'd Microcosme.

Ierk.

Now I see thou art mad: but prethee strive to conceale it; the place is publique.

The sixth Scoene.

Enter SVSAN by the middle Scoene.

Susan.

Pray you Sir, did you take up a Gentleumans glove?

Artl.

It was my happinesse, and 'twould be much increased, if I might kisse the hand that wore it.

Susan.

As I am a Gentleuman I shall be most carefull to give your deservings their due commendations.

Artl.

May I be bold to enter with you?

Susan.

You are a stranger Sir, and it may give occasion of jealousie. But I am my Ladies Gentleuman: I keepe the key of her secrets, and if you please, her closet shall conceale you; where you may dispose of Suckets and Eringoe's for your refreshment. I pray Sir, call not a gentleumans freenesse immodesty.

Artl.

My behaviour shall deserve your good opinion.

Susan.

Truely Sir, a man could not stand better in the conceit of a gentleuman at first sight, then you doe in mine. I hope your goodnesse will not misconster my readinesse to humble my desires to your disposing.

Art.

You teach me language which my selfe should use:

But if my gratitude doth seeme to want

Verball expression, I had rather act

[Page] Then promise what I owe you.

leffr.

This is pretty foolery, Cousin.

Susan.

Sir, you appeare so repleat with goodnesse, that I presume you cannot but answer the desires of a gentleuman, who proft [...]ates her love at the feete of your acceptance.

Artl.

Doth she love me? what greater secret

Hath Nature in her Workes then simpathie!

I do [...] conceive a thousand fond expressions,

Which throng so fast, they choake the passage up,

That none can finde an issue.

Ierk.

Out of fooles Paradise: thou art in it. But pray you Gentleuman protract not his satisfaction with these circumstantiall delayes. Whilst Mris. Dorothy and he are busie, you and I will tast the sweet-meats in your Ladies Closet.

Susan.

I understand you not.

Ieffr.

He meanes you should lie under him.

Susan.

Fie little one, that you should so offend the chast eares of a Gentleuman. But to you Sir, the Load-stone of my heart, that turnes it selfe at your motions pointing still to the North of your Love.

Ieffr.

Indeed Mistris 'tis a cold corner, pray turne it to the South, and let my needle run in your Diall.

Susan.

And since the ardor of my desires have urg'd my blushes to discover them; let not your appearing worth suffer such a disparagement to conte [...]ne a Gentleumans willingnesse.

Art.

How's this! why friend, did she not seeme to come instructed (by direction) with [...]embassie As to prepare my love?

Ierk.

No, no, she loves thee her selfe. Take her. Me thinks shee's very beautifull; what pinken-eyes; what a sharpe chin! Why her features transcend Mopsa's in the Arcadia.

Ieffr.

Hath she not studied it Cousin, thinke you? and [Page] is transported to a humour of loving every man she sees.

I have known it in the Countrey in an age-d [...]cayed waiting-woman.

Artl.

I cannot answer her; my heart is bigg With other thoughts; which till I am deliver'd of, I suffer torments.

Susan.

Vnfortunate Gentleuman as I am, to be thus rejected.

Ieffr.

Will you resigne your interest? I'le court her folly.

Artl.

Take it,

But not t'abuse the others innocence.

Whilst I with sighes draw in th' unwilling ayre

Which she perfum'd at distance.

Ieffr.

Pray Gentleuman could you love me a little? I'm very sportive.

Susan.

Truly young Gentleman, I doe not know what I may doe when you come to your full growth.

Iaffr.

Blirt my Ladies Gentleuman, who taught you to scoffe at a mans person?

Susan.

Cry ye mercy little Sir; you may be the father of dwarfes. The sack begins to leave working and by this time my Ladie expects her gentleuman. Farewell, unkind Sir.

Goes forth by the middle Scene.

Ierk.

Farewell loving Gentleuman. She hath prevented me. Sure friend she came but to mocke thee. 'Twas little lesse then downeright impudence.

Ieffr.

Let's to the Taverne Sir, and drowne this passion in a cup of Canary.

Ierk.

Come, come; I was ordained to doe thee good. Thou knowst I had a Mistris, whose friends disliking my wildnesse, marryed her to the Father of the Gentlewoman whom thou lov'st (hornes be his punishment for it.) She loves me still; and I doe not despaire of making him Cuckold. Wee'l arme our selves with a quart or two, and then I'le bring thee to her.

[Page]Artl.

Ayd me love, wit and fate; that my desires

Burne not themselves without her equall fires.

Ierk.

More passions yet! It thou the marke wouldst hit,

Let Sacke inspire thee: 'tis the Soule of Wit.

Ieffr.

Sack that makes Prophets; gives a Poet birth:

And then a wench; Elysium upon Earth.

Goe forth by the left Scoene.

2

2

Act. 2. Scoen. 1.

Enter SVSAN and WARRANT, by the middle SCOENE.

SVSAN.

NOw I protest Mr. Warrant, you wrong the love of a Gentleuman, in not imparting the cause of your discontent. Come not fees in roundly? Doe not the Delinquents understand, I'le speake a good word for you?

Warr.

You are the onely object of my thoughts. 'Tis your beauty hath animated my presumptuous weaknes to expresse how much my desires are yours.

Susan.

Alas Mr. Warrant how can a poore Gentleuman deserve it?

War.

Yes, you have power of my Lady, and she much acquaintance at Court. A pardon might be got.

Susan.

A pardon! blesse me, for what?

Warr.

Not for murder; but for killing (yet not a Man) fairely in the field.

Susan.

Are you earnest?

Warr.

'Tis not yet done; onely I am resolv'd to doe it, were I but sure of my pardon.

Sus.

If not a man, what then is it?

[Page]Warr.

A meere superfluous complement of state formality. One of my Ladyes raising. A fellow that hath crosse cape [...]'d himselfe out of a Taylor into a gentleman Vsher.

Susan.

Who Mr. Spruce? but have you charng'd him?

Warr.

Yes, with all [...] and circumstance. The weapon single Rapier; the place the P [...]azz [...]; the time this mooneshine night presently before supper.

Susan.

And your quarrell my love. Wel [...] Mr. Warrant; I know a Gentleuman hath interest in a Lord at Court, who hath long beene inward with her. I'le warrant your pardon. But my Lady expects me.

Exit.

Warr.

Dearest part of my selfe: to get my pardon, here's Spruce, now will I affront him.

The second Scoene.

Enter SPRVCE by the middle Scoene.

Spruce

Our being my Ladi [...]s Gentleman Vsher, her [...] not protect you in the compet [...]on [...].

Spruce.

Warrant, [...] shred of basenesse to [...] favours, and mine owne deservings. Mr. S. Secretary is my Ladies gentl [...]woman, and [...] by priviledge.

Warr.

By priviledge Spruce! Thou art a Baboone of forma [...]ty, and an ap [...] of [...]-ship. When I have kill'd thee, and get my pardon, I will have thy skin stuhh't; and with a protection shew the [...] at countrey Faires and Markets for a Ginney Pigmie.

Spruce.

Warrant, thou art the Epitome of my Masters authority, and the abridgement of [...] justiceship.

Warr.

Spruce, thou art a very [...], bred in thy crosselegg [...]d profession; that having suckt a little bloud of Gentility, instead of thy usuall bread bre [...]kfast, art growne to a fancy familiarity, with thy maintainers. T [...]ou buy'st thy [Page] laundry in Long-lane or Hounsditch with the impude [...]c of a cheater.

Spruce.

Warrant, thou lyest.

Warr.

How [...]lie. That some-body were here to stand betwixt us. Come not neere me, lest I blast thee with the breath of my just indignation.

Spruce.

Keepe at distance Warrant, lest I [...]ame thee, and send thee from Constable to Constable in a Wheelebarrow.

Warr.

For this Spruce I will not compassionate the good parts which my Lady commends in thee. Thy Fiddlesticke shall not save thee; nor thy capring lift thee an inch from the ground which I have laid for thy destruction.

Spruce.

Warrant, thou art the very parings of a Pedanticke to flout the compleatnesse of education. Because thy dulnesse is capable of no more then to frame Hetroclites from mens names, and scribble a warrant or a mittimus by a president; yet thou art a Justices Clerke.

Warr.

And thou a Ladies Gentleman Vsher, a bundle of complementall follyes stitcht up with how-dee's. I will send thee anon upon a visit to the Divell.

The third Scoene.

Enter SVSAN, by the middle Scoene.

Susan,

Fie Mr. Spruce and Mr. Warrant, how loud you are [...] my Ladie heares your noise, and is offended.

Spruce.

Yes, my Rapier and mine arme shall maintaine it upon his life, I love you best.

Susan.

Indeed Mr. Spruce and I love you.

Warr.

I'le maintaine it against the life of all the world, I love you best.

Susan.

Truely Mr. Warrant and I love you.

Spruce.

He that offers to love her besides my selfe, dies.

Susan.

Mr. Spruce and Mr. Warrant, send but for one [Page] bottle of Sack, and be friends; I'le love you both.

Warr.

I'le brooke no Rivall.

Spruce.

Nor I; death must determine it.

Warr.

Remember then, I must to the Cutlers.

WARRANT goes forth by the middle Scoene.

Susan.

Though I am but a waiting-uman, I haue more wit then to believe this is earnest. As if I did not know them to bee as arrant Cowards, as a Justices Clerke or Gentleman Vsher can be; and deserve rather to be whipt by a Satire, then rewarded for their valours with the love of a gentleuman. But Mr. Spruce doe you meane to fight?

Spruce.

Yes, and kill him too. I feare nothing but death and the Gallowes; from which you may save me.

Susan.

As how? the meanes.

Spruce.

Begg me, I say beg me. Let not my good parts be made unusefull by an untimely turne at Tyburne. Me thinks I see the pittifull spectators condoling me. The fish-wives drowning their dead soles with salt water from their eyes; the Oyster-wives weeping for me in most lamentable pickle. An hundred Chamber-maids running stark mad, and as many more falling into the greene sicknesse with longing for me. Begg me therefore (I say) resolve to begg me, and make great hast. It is my feare above death, that otherwise some rich Citty Heyre will prevent you. Resolve therefore to be the first that shall begg me.

Susan.

As I am a Gentleuman Mr. Spruce, if you kill him fairely in a duell; and upon no base advantage I'le doe it.

Spruce.

Confirme it then with a kisse, and inspire an Herculean valour into me.

Susan.

By no meanes at this time. I'le kisse you at the gallowes. My Lady.

[Page]

The fourth Scoene.

Enter LADY and DOROTHY by the middle Scoene.

Lady.

You see how my obedient youth

Hath j [...]yn'd it selfe with an unequall mate;

You ag [...]d father, onely to satisfie

The Provident will of Parents. Doe you so.

Fortune hath made me now your Mother.

Had nature don't, my care could not be greater,

Nor more my providence to dispose your good.

Doroth.

Mother, the duty which I owe my Father

You (being his) must share: and this expression

Of more then common love, I must repay

With more then common gratitude.

Lady.

Ther. tell me,

Now time hath given your age perfection;

Your roses are full blowne, and fit for gathering,

Doe you not long for a husband?

Doro.

Not with much earnestnes: I have as yet

No passionate desires; as yet no breath

Poyson'd with Hyperbolicall flatteries

Hath courted my poore beauty; no deep vowes

Have paid idolatrous sacrifice of service

To my faire hand, whose whitenes if but kis't

Can purifie a soule. Beleeve me yet

The ma [...]'s a stranger to my knowing memory

That ever said he lov'd me.

Lady.

But take heed:

There are a sort of fond effeminate men,

Deepe studied in discoursive complement,

That many times will wast more ayery language

To take a sollemne leave, then would make up

A Citty Oratour.

Beware that no such oyle-tongu'd amorist

[Page] Sigh forth his passions in thy credulous eares,

And captivate thy weaknesse. 'Tis their practise

To glory in diversity of Mistrisses:

And when one frownes or chides their over-daring

With a repulse, will not stick to revenge it

With a foule defamation of her honour.

Susan.

Neither can a Gentleuman be in love now and then out she is censur'd.

La

Let not thine eares drink in their Rhetorick charms,

Lest they bewitch thy glorious understanding

To dote on their pretences, which perhaps

Shall be chast love for it's Creations end:

When but their c [...]vetous hopes preferre a portion

Before your beauty, birth or education;

And yet perhaps there is disparitie

'Twixt lower fortunes, and their weake desert.

Deceit's a cunning baud, and many times

Makes vertue prostitute it selfe to misery.

Doroth.

There is a power

Call'd Fate, which doth necessitate the will,

And makes desire obedient to it's rule.

All the resisting faculties of reason,

Prevention, feare and jealousie are weake

To disanull what in it's firme decrees

Is once determin'd. Yet my heart is free;

Vnbounded by the stricter limits of

Particular affection: so I'le keepe it.

No proud ingratefull man shall ever triumph

O're the captiv'd sweets of my Virgin love.

Nor a vain-glorious gull that offers service

To every noted beauty, boast my favour.

I'le cloath my thoughts in humorous observation;

And if on any that sollicits love

I fixe a liking, I'le refer my selfe

To what is destin'd for me.

Lady.

The resolution's noble; I commend it.

[Page]

The fifth Scoene.

Enter LITTLEVVORD and Mris. TONGALL, by the middle Scoene.

Lady.

Welcome Mistris Tongall; welcome. You are the onely company in the neighbour-hood. A Ladie can ill be without you.

Tong.

This Gentleman Madame, whom I presume to commend to your Ladiships acquaintance, is of worthy birth and education: the Littlewords are not moderne; besides their Auncestors were great Philosophers.

Susan.

And the latter great fooles.

Tong.

Goe, and talke to her. I'le tell your Ladiship a strange thing of the Little-words. In seven generations there was but one girle, and shee dyed an infant. Contrariwise of the Tongalls there's but one man left, that's my Husband, and he's a Lawyer: now your Ladiship knowes hee gets nothing but wenches. Speake to her Mr. Littleword.

La.

Is the Gentleman of so good education?

Tong.

Extraordinary Madame; hee's a wit. I would my Iynny were worthy of him, he should seeke no further. I pray Mr. Littleword speake to her.

Lady.

Can he Poetise Mris. Tongall?

Tong.

Excellently Madame; hee hath things in print. His next dedication shall be to your Ladiship. Why doe you not goe and talke to her?

Lady.

What estate hath he?

Tong.

Five hundred a yeare present possession, more in reversion. This Gentleman, Mris. Dorothy, is my friend, and desire's to bee your servant. I have made way now, why doe you not speake to her? I am bold to commend him to your liking.

Doro.

Pray you Mris. Tongall, what wages takes he?

[Page]Tong.

You mistake Mris. Dorothy; 'tis your love hee would serve you for.

Doro.

That's a cold reward; a Livery would keepe him warmer.

Ton.

Fie, that you will not speake to her. And how doth your Ladiship like an old man?

Lady.

A cold bed fellow. But Religion and Conscience. Now 'tis done I must love him. Would hee were not jealous.

Tong.

None are so confident (Madame) as cuckolds. But your Ladiships knowne vertue will soone put out the eyes of his suspition. Speake to her Mr. Littleword.

Susan.

I would not now for all the Sacke in Spaine my loving humour were upon mee. This dumb Gentleman would make me forsweare the qualitie.

Dorot.

Sure Mris. Tongall your friend would make an excellent midwife; he can keepe secrets.

Tong.

'Tis his modestie Mris. Dorothy. Blesse mee that you would not speake to her.

The sixth Scoene.

Enter IERKER, ARTLOVE and IEFFREY, by the middle Scoene.

Ierk.

Madame, I am bold to commend this Gentleman, who will deserve your acquaintance.

Artl.

As far as my power will extend to expression.

La.

You are welcome Mr. Ierker and this Gentleman, and shall bee whilst your visits are seasonable. But you know I have a jealous husband.

Ierk.

There are medicines to cure it Madame.

Ieffr.

May not I salute the Ladie Cousin?

Ierk.

'Tis but courtesie and manners.

Ieffr.

I am bold with your Ladiships lip.

La.

'Tis marvell you blush not. So bold and so young! [Page] By that time you come to your full growth pretty Gentleman, you'l make up the number of the ten Worthies.

Ieffr.

Madame, I am neither Infidell, Iew [...] nor good Christian; though I am little, I dare be your L [...]d [...]ships Champion in an active skirmish.

Tong.

This 'tis to be backward: you'l never thrive in any thing unles you are more forward. Lose such an opportunity with not speaking to her!

Lady.

Secretarie.

Susan.

Madame.

Lady.

Goe, and direct the Cooke.

SVSAN goes forth by the middle Scoene.

Artl.

How on a sodaine my resolves are numb'd,

And frozen into silence, that confirmes

The first distrust of my knowne indeservings,

I dare not speake.

Doroth.

Shall I have another dumb servant! Are you not well Sir?

Artl.

Well Ladie! yes. Health it selfe

Is a disease in others, if compar'd

With th' absolute state of mine. Where you are present

Sicknesse can have no power over frailtie.

The b [...]ames which you [...] bright e [...]es shoot, purifie

Th [...] most infectious ayr [...]. Your words distill

A B [...]l [...]re more pr [...]cious then that Miracle

The Chymicks d [...]eame of.

At distance I have [...]ften seene your beauty;

And thence receiv'd a fire, whose quickning flames

Did animate my soule, that else was earthy,

A lump of passive dulnesse; now 'tis active:

And if you please to cherish it, shall pay

All it's derivative abilities

Vnto your lowest service.

D [...]ro.

You too much flatter my unworthinesse:

And in that likewise derogate

From your owne fulnesse of admired merit.

[Page] Th' vnskilful'st Physiognomist may read

In your bright forehead, and your formes exactnesse,

A man repleat with all perfections.

Whose very superfluities might be

Additions to the barren worths of others.

Ierk.

And can there be greater disparity?

Would it not seeme a Prodigie in nature,

To have greene Summer with her rose-crown'd head

Kisse the white isicles from Winters beard?

Extinguish her bright fires in his cold bosome?

Madame, I know your sportive Youth desires

A more proportion'd mixture. Come, let's trie.

Fire put to fire increaseth active Flames;

Contraries dull each other with confusion:

Such are the frozen kisses of your Husband,

Vnto your warme delights—

Art.

Ladie, if any worth appeare in me

It must derive it's fulnesse from your liking:

Had I in [...]u [...]'d into me all the excellence

Of those Heroicks whom the Poets fain'd;

Were I made up with all Perfections

That Fiction ever painted, to expresse

Desert in freshest colours;

Vnlesse you cal'd it worth, 'twere but a subject

For base contempt, though popular admiration

Gav't divine Attributes. Since you commend

The faculties your whitenesse must dispose of—

Ieffr.

Aske your husband leave! by this hand I would not aske an Alderman leave to Cuckold him. So he might take example from a Citty kinde one, whose Wife long'd to kisse a Lord: upon which he grew so proud for being exalted above the rest of his neighbours, that he would suffer none to Cuckold him ever after but Lords.

Dorot.

By no meanes Sir.

Wrong not your judgement, which must needs bee absolute.

The choice of me

[Page] Is too inferiour to your richer value.

The Cyprian Queene had shee but seene your face,

Would ne're have dy'd the roses with her blood,

Wept on their palenesse for Adonis losse:

But circled in a ring of all her graces

Court your celestiall forme upon the bosome

Of some more fragrant Tempe.

Artl.

She mocks me sure.

Dor.

Did Syrens heare your voice they would give o're

Their own malicious charms: and through the witchcraft

Of it's more powerfull musicke, rage with madnesse:

Leaving their proper element to dye

In the pursuit of sweeter melody.

Artl.

This grosse flattery, Ladie,

Commends your wit, rather then your good nature.

My heart is a plaine heart, and my desires

Are truly vertuous, not to be contemn'd.

Lady.

Fie, Mr. Ierker! besides the words incivility, I did not expect such absurditie in a reputed wit. Could you not haue couch'd it better; shall I have leave to doe your Ladiship a piece of night service; or so. Come, come, forbeare these wicked sollicits, or I shall disclaime the promise of my favours reversion when my old Husband die's, if nature be not mercilesse, and I goe first.

The seventh Scoene.

Enter Sir GENEROVS WORTHY, and young WORTHY, by the middle SCOENE.

Sir Gen.

Ha! what's here! Courtship on all hands?

Lady.

My Husband.

Dorot.

My Father, and my Brother.

Y. Worth.

I like not this.

Sir Gen.

Mr. Ierker, you are welcome, I hope; having fail'd in his old, hee hath not a new suit; that as I made [Page] her a Ladie, shee should bestow an hornourable Crest upon mee.

Ierk.

Let his jealousie conster it into truth.

Lady.

He shall neuer be but a Vnicorne.

Ierk.

Madame, however I appeare in my wildnesse, I shall continue to your Ladiship in my first desires. So with this tribute of my devotion.

Artl.

I would first kisse your hand.

Dorot.

My lip being too unworthy.

Tong.

I take my leave Madame.

Lady.

Farewell Mistris Tongall.

Sir Gen.

Son, schoole your Sister. Come with me Wife.

Ex.

Y. Wor.

Sister, I can but wonder much, that you

Should make your selfe the object of their Courtship,

Who beare perhaps but th' empty names of Gentlemen,

Without the reall fulnesse.

Doroth.

What meane you (Brother) by this introduction?

Y. Wor.

Sister, to take the priviledge of discretion,

And schoole your ignorant courtesie, that upon

The shadowes and appearances of Men

Confer your favours.

Dorot.

Brother, you may pretend your love

In this distrust; but 'tis an ill expression.

Thinke not my judgement subject to such weaknesse,

That I can build a faith on Complements,

Or (with rash passion) run into an error.

Nothing but knowne desert shall tye my thoughts

To a staid liking, if I may distinguish it.

And when my choice is fixt, it shall be such

As your fraternall love must not dispute.

Y. Wor.

Sister, my counsel's milde.

Nor would I have you violent in defence

Of a suspected folly. Guilt is aptest

To make excuse. But if your resolution

Be bent thus wilfully to persist in actions

[Page] Of fear'd dishonour, be assur'd my Spirit

Shall rage with such an anger, playes ne're painted.

Dorot.

Dishonour Brother, I have a spirit too,

That scornes as much an Act of foule dishonour,

As you, or any Masculine pretender

To noble Vertues. Guilt is aptest still

To be suspitious. If a maid be free

In her discourse, and courteous entertainment,

She straight is censur'd. But let a man appeare

Stuck fu [...]l of apish Courtship; light, inconstant,

As talkative as Parrats, that are taught

A voyces imitation; one that courts

Every tam'd beauty with a seeming zeale;

As if his soules devotion were restrain'd

Onely to her Divinitie; this man's call'd

A well-bred complementall Gentleman.

Mens greatest follies, if compar'd with ours,

Are vertues, fit for our imitation.

Y. Wor.

Sister, your Satyr smart's not:

The lashes reach not me.

Dorot.

They are but suppositions Brother.

And pray suppose the Gentleman that seem'd

To court my beauty, were indeed a man,

Not guilded imperfections; one whose words

Were full of weighty judgement, not mere sound;

Whose reall vertues did beget an envie,

Perhaps an emulation in all others;

And from the freedome of his richer minde

He gave himselfe and them to be my servants;

What gratitude in me might equall this?

Y. Wor.

I know you are free.

And rather then a complementall servant

Should be discourag'd in his serious wantonnesse,

You'l give it countenance to make him bold

In's amorous pursuit; perhaps to th' impudence

Of a lascivious charge upon your modestie;

Because you scorne ingratitude.

[Page]Dorot.

Brother, did not the ties

Of love and nature check my forward aptnesse,

I'de tell you y'are not noble, and suspect

Whether your mind hold that derivative goodnesse

Which generous bloud communicates, to suspect

Her re [...]olute constancie whom you call Sister.

Thinke not your being a man prerogative

To be the onely Counsellor in manners

Brother, though to your person I am partiall.

Through confidence of your appearing vertue;

The generall vices noted in your sexe,

Such as with publique ostentation

You glory to be guiltie of, which in

Our very thoughts raise blushes—

Y. Wor.

Sister no more.

Leaving these circumstantiall arguments,

Pray let a Fathers care and Brothers love

Commend him first whom you intend for Husband:

You'l finde us tyrants else. Nature is kind;

But if provokt, she hath a Tygers mind.

Ile finde him out and satisfie my selfe

How farre he is deserving.

Goes forth by the middle Scene.

Dorot.

How is our weaknes trodden and insulted on

By these imperious men! Aid me resolves

Against their threats and counsels, unlesse grounded

On stronger reasons then suspition.

As the pure Oare refin'd exceeds in value

Treble proportions of the courser drosse;

So true desert in Man an outward glosse.

Goes forth by the middle Scoene.

3

3

[Page]

Act. 3. Scoen. 1.

Enter DOROTHY and SVSAN, in the BALCONE.

Susan.

Come Mris Dorothy; here's a Moone would make a great bellied uman long for greene cheefe. Me thinks 'tis pleasant taking the ayre by Moone-shine.

Dorot.

But 'tis not so healthfull The night infects the ayre with unwholsome vapours.

Susan.

A figg for these Physicall observations. I have knowne a Doctors prescriptions cast down a Gentleuman for three quarters of a yeare. But if ever I lie under any of them for the greene sicknes.

Dorot.

Fie upon thee.

Susan.

Why I doe not meane naughtines. But what doe you thinke made me so earnest to have you hither?

Doroth.

Some wanton humour. You have d [...]unke a cup of Sacke, and want a handsome Ge [...]leman to bee in love with.

Susan.

No such matter. Ile not drinke a drop more till towards supper. I brought you to see a Duell.

Doroth.

Blesse me; betwixt whom?

Susan.

My Ladies Gentle-man, and Mr. Warrant.

Doroth.

They are unequally weapon'd. Mr. Spruce, though hee be a Tailor weares a—the foolish rime runs in my head. I had almost said a dagger, but 'tis a sword; and my Fathers Clerke hath onely his inkhorne.

Susan.

And that's a terrible one. But I saw the Cutler bring him a sword; I saw it naked, which was enough to fright many a gentleuman. I saw him trie it on a bar of iron in the kitchin; and many more fearfull preparations.

[Page]Dorot.

But will not you prevent them?

Susan.

By no means, unlesse there were more danger. 'Twill be mirth for this twelve-month, if our eyes (through this imperfect Moone-light) can but reach the sight of them. What confident daring will be betwixt them at some great distance?

Dorot.

And what's their quarrell?

Susan.

The love of a Gentleuman, I assure you.

Dorot.

Your selfe perhaps.

Susan.

No otherwise indeed. My beauty is the object of their valour. The Combatants will enter presently. The Knight of the Inkhorue, and the Knight of the Spanish Needle.

Doro.

Both affecting the Lady of the Closet. But Mris. Secretary, what if my Lady Mothers Chamber-maid and Ioane in the Kitchen were here?

Susan.

For you to make them Ladies, as you have done me. Indeed they might serve by Moone-light; the day perhaps would discover a greasie Gentry.

Dorot.

Fie; now you forget your selfe.

Susan.

'Tis ordinary for a waiting-Gentleuman but newly made a Lady to forget her selfe. But see, I am prevented from proceeding. Let us observe.

The second Scoene.

Enter WARRANT, and a little after him SPRVCE, by the middle SCOENE.

Warr.

'Tis a good sword; it cost me two pieces. No matter. Many a mans death hath cost more at the Physitians. Who would be affraid to kill a man; when hee is sure of his pardon?

Dorot.

Hee is now in some deepe meditation of your beautie.

Susan.

See Mistris, there's the other.

[Page]Spruce.

That sure is Warrant. I'le goe this way. It shall never be said I went after a man to kill him, though I am confident Mistris Secretary will begg me.

Dorot.

They goe contrary wayes. Wee shall not see the fight. They meane to meete and end it at the Antipodes.

Warr.

But what should I thinke of killing him? I know hee dare as well take the wall of a drunken Constable, or justle a Buffe-coat leading a wench, as meet me.

Susan.

Me thinks I perceive them stand.

Spruce.

Yes, yes; 'tis Warrant: I smell him hitherto.

Warr.

Is not that Spruce? certainly 'tis hee. Me thinks I see him tremble hitherto. Hee dare not come neere me; and I scorne to goe to him to kill him: It may hinder my pardon. Therefore he shall assault me first.

Dorot.

Why, they are fixt. Hath not feare congeal'd them into stones?

Susan.

Dissolv'd them rather into gelley.

Warr.

That some good fellow would but come and beat the cowardly Rascall.

Spruce.

That some Sharke would come now and take away his hat or cloake.

Susan.

Now could I fancy in my imagination what they say. Mr. Warrant. O that I had this Coward Spruce here: I would dismember him; and then what Gentleuman would care a rush for him? Now Mr. Spruce hath studien the Arcadia. He sayes. Oh that I had this Warrant here It would cut him into atomes; that wheresoever the Sun shines, the trophces of my renowned victorie might bee visible.

Aarr.

That he would but come a little neerer.

Spruce.

That hee were but within twice my swords length.

Warr.

I would I had but a leg or an arme of him, since he will not come, that I may kill him.

Spr.

That I had but his head here; how I would shave it.

[Page]

The third Scoene.

Enter RALPH and DOESON by the left Scoene.

Ralph.

This is the vertue of Sack boy. Who would toile in durt for whay and butter-milke, or the windie juice of Pome-waters upon Sundayes? Now could I be as valiant as—nothing.

Dobs.

I could fight with an Army of Polecats, so they were not Women.

Ralph.

I could take the wall of three times three Taylors, though in the morning, and at a Bakers stall.

Dobs.

That were a way to have thy skin bodkind full of ilet holes.

Ralph.

If I should throw downe three or foure postes.

Dobs.

What then?

Ralph.

What then! why, I would not stay to take them up.

Susan.

Who are these? observe.

Ralph.

Give me an armour of Sack; I am shot-free.

Dobs.

Whilst my Master paye's the reckoning.

Susan.

Mistris Dorothy, I have fasten'd on a designe for rare sport. My friends.

Dorot.

Will you talke to strangers in the street?

Ralph.

What say you pretty paire of Wag-tailes? doe you want Play-mates?

Susan.

Will you doe a courtesie for a Gentleuman?

Ralph.

Within dores, or without?

Susan.

You seeme to be valiant.

Dobs.

They that trie us shall finde our mettall.

Susan.

Perceive you not two men yonder in severall places?

Ralph.

Wee see somthing, but they may as well be flockes.

Susan.

For any manhood that's in them. If you will but [Page] beat them a little, besides a Gentleumans thankes, some other reward shall attend it.

Ralph.

How are we sure they are Cowards?

Susan.

You may trust the word of a Gent [...]euman.

Dobs.

Come, come, thou standest doubting like a cowardly foo [...]e, These may bee Gentlewoemen of good fashion, and apt to take fire at valour. Who knowes what preferment's neere us? We have persons.

Ral.

Why then forwards: call upon sack, Dobson, sack.

Warr.

Who are these come towards me? my courage begins to have an ague.

Spruce.

Who may these be? my wish (I hope) some good fellowes to rob him.

Dobs.

What was our Commission Ralph? to beat them, and not kill them.

Ralph.

To kill them and not hurt them? Call upon Sacke, Dobson: I begin to be affraid. I can perceive his sword; he shakes it fearefully.

Dobs.

Draw thine-then; and sack, sack the walles of Troy.

Warr.

The rogue Spruce hath sent them to beate mee. 'Tis so. I must shift for my selfe.

Ralph.

Sirrah, thou man of feare and trembling. Call upon Sacke, Dobson.

Warr.

Alas, what meane you Gentlemen?

Ralph.

Not so gentle neither. Wee are fiery furious, and command thee in the name of Sack, resigne thy weapon, and submit to be corrected by our valour.

Warr.

Kinde Gentlemen, I hope you'l not kill me. I'le doe any thing, rather then be kill'd.

Ralph.

A handsome beating shall asswage our fury.

Warr.

Sweet Gentlemen, I'le doe any thing rather then be beaten.

Spruce.

'Tis so; they are robbing him, and I scorne to aid him. Teach the rogue to be such a coward: he might have come to me.

[Page]Dobs.

Are you prepar'd Sir?

Warr.

Mercifull Gentlemen; I have some money, a Cloake and a good Beaver: I'le give you all, and forgive you too, so you'l not beat me.

Dobs.

This was beyond our expectation.

Ralph.

Our mercy may bee brought to a composition. But should we be pittifull, could you be content, since you cannot fight in your owne defence, to lye in our defence.

Warr.

I'le say or sweare any thing, rather then be kill'd or beaten.

Ralph.

That we did beat you?

Warr.

That you left mee dead. I'le lye at a Surgeons these two moneths; and pretend that my skull was broken in twelve places: that halfe my braines were putrified and taken out. I'le be mad all my life after to confirme people in the beliefe of it.

Ralph.

Depart then, and praise us.

Warr.

Yes, at the gallowes. I'le have you hang'd for ro [...]ing me: I shall teach you to attempt any thing on a Ju [...]ces Clerke.

Goes forth by the right Scoene.

Susan.

Nay: pray you stay a little longer.

Dorot.

I am weary; wee'l imagine the rest done. I'le send my Brother forth to make them friends.

Exeunt from the Balcone.

Spruce.

'Tis done sure. Now will I home, proclaime him a coward, and triumph. Ha [...]l doe they way-lay mee! the rogue hath hi [...]'d them to beat or rob me. An ague of feare is upon me. Now could I wish my selfe transform'd into a beast, and have foure legs. These two which have beene my most usefull members will surely faile.

Ralph.

Sirrah, you Raskall.

Spruce.

You mistake Sir, I am a Gentleman Vsher.

Ralph.

Then thou abuser of wit and good cloathes, be mannerly, and uncover to thy betters.

[Page]Spruce.

I hope Gentlemen you d [...]e not meane to rob me? Trust me, I have no money, but a few farthings of my Ladies to give poore people.

Ralph.

We will be satisfied with a small diminution of your plentifull Wardrobe. Wee know you have more Cloakes and Beavers at home.

Spruce.

No I protest Gentlemen. I have but this onely case for my Carkasse: and 'twill not be quite paid for til the next quarter.

Dobs.

Why then Sir, we will beat you handsomly, and that shall allay our fury.

Spruce.

Nay kinde Gentlemen, I had rather stand to my Ladies bountie, then be beaten.

Ralph.

Why then thanke our mercy and depart, whilst we like honest theeves share our booty.

Spruce.

And I find out the Constable.

Goes forth by the right Scoene.

The fourth Scoene.

Enter ARTLOVE by the left Scoene.

Artl.

How glorious shews heaven with trembling lights

Sparkling their distant beames! The full orb'd Moone

Borne on nights dewie wings, rides in her Sphoere;

And throwes the shine which from her brothers rayes.

She borrowes to illuminate the earth

Through thinner ayre, where no condensed vapours

Are interpos'd to let her piercing eye

From seeing that which she gives sight to. Yet

My heart is wrapt in clouds of leaden sadnesse.

Love is not that in me which others feigne it.

I dreame not of delights; my busie fancie

Presents no fabulous heaven. A hell of torment

Darken's my mind's bright faculties; and reason suffers it selfe to be ecclips'd by passion.

[Page]Dobs

Now we'e are enter'd Ralph. what if wee made this our professi [...]n? many a one lives by it.

Ralph.

And many a one is hang'd for it.

Artl.

Oft have these instruments of heavens influence

Seene my contemplative watchings;

When with profound and an unwearied search

I have scan'd the causes of their great effects;

And waded through the most inscrutable secrets

Both of the mediate and immediate nature▪

But comming once to read a Womans face,

There were so many heavens, that every thought

In me, requir'd a severall understanding,

To give each severall grace a severall name,

And definition.

Dobs.

Thou art affraid of the gallowes?

Ralph.

Not much of the gallowes without a hangman.

Artl.

The Chaos and the earth were loves first Parents;

And yet the child did give the Parents forme.

What Riddles are in nature!

Man's a disorder'd Masse, a meere confusion

Of rude, inanimate sense and understanding.

Vntill inspir'd with loves diviner soule.

The sense is tir'd, unlesse it varye's objects.

Knowledge would be finite, were not the mind

Delighted with diversitie.

But love's a subject for eternall studie;

And one faire booke preserv'd so, a full library.

Dobson.

I am resolv'd; I'le nor spare man, woman nor child, whilst the sack works.

Ralph.

For women and children let me alone: if I fall upon the one, Ile soone get the other.

Artl.

What fabulous errors learning is attended with!

Plato's five Worlds; their sempiternitie;

Pythagoras transmigration; and opinions

Judgement would blush to father. But a woman,

Did men contemplate such a one as I doe,

[Page] They'd Make her all those Worlds: and then include

All the fam'd excellence of former beauties

In her more perfect frame.

The fifth Scoene.

Enter young WORTHY by the middle Scoene.

Y. Wor.

Is't possible such shew of resolution

Should appeare in Cowards! I'le make them friends.

And that being done mine owne intentions

Must be pursu'd to finde that Gentleman

Courted my Sister. Love of all sorts bends

It selfe to courses for it's severall ends.

Dobs.

Now for a daring Constable.

Ralph.

Without his staffe of authoritie, or a fortification of Sack. A Constable may be valiant when hee commands others what he cannot doe himselfe.

Y. Wor.

What! my paire of valiant Cowards! friends already.

Dobs.

How! Cowards! swallow that word, or it shall choake thee.

Y. W.

These fellowes have out-gone their Commission and rob'd them. I was a wise man to come abroad without a sword.

Ralph.

Hee hath never a sword. Sirrah, thou man of presumption, that hast profan'd our incomparable valour, redeeme thy forfeited life of our mercie with some gold or silver pictures out of thy silken pockets.

Y. Wor.

They'l rob me too: Why, Gentlemen; silke clothes have not money in them at all times.

Ralph.

He lookes terribly Dobson. Call upon Sack.

Dobs.

I will cleave him at one stroke.

Y. W.

Doe you meane to murther a Gentleman?

Artl.

Murder a Gentleman the voyce came thence.

Ile rescue him, though danger and destruction

[Page] Met me with open mouths. Villaines, desist.

Y. W.

You have done a benefit I must acknowledge.

Artl.

That's to reward it sir; from which base ends

Good actions should be free. I'de gladly heare

A short relation of the Accident.

Dobs.

Why dost thou quake so Ralph?

Ralh.

Why dost thou tremble so Dobson? I dare bee whipt if these bee not some kin to the Gentle woman that sent us hither from the thing at yonder house.

Y. W.

Were you sent to rob or kill me?

Dobs.

Alas Gentlemen, we are very ingrums.

Ralph.

Meere Country Animals. Wee have valour to steale a May-pole, or rob the Parso [...]s Hens-nest: but to kill a man as far from our intents or daring, as pittie from an Executioner, or bashfulnesse from a Jingo.

Y. W

Forbeare the rest. This affords me matter: Returne to that house, there leave your bootie and receive your reward; onely this I'le keepe.

Ralph.

With all our hearts: wee had rather any body should have them, then the hangman both them and us for them. Come Dobson, we have got the money yet; and a little sack will animate us againe. My soul's under foot; I must raise it: But if ever I quarrell againe by Mooneshine unlesse I am drunk, valour forsake me.

Goe forth by the left Scoene.

Y. W.

Blest Accident! 'tis surely the same.

After a stricter view, my memory

Vnlesse it erres, tells me I have seene your person

Before this at my fathers.

Artl.

If you are the son of Sir Generous Worthy.

Y. H.

It was the blessing

Nature and Fortune did bestow on me.

Art.

It is indeed a blessing, when the vertues

Of noble Races are hereditary;

And doe derive themselves from th' imitation

Of vertuous Ancestours. You have a faire Sister.

[Page]Y. Wor.

Her beaurie is not worth your commendations.

Artl.

Your modestie is too severe

In your restraint from praising her pure excellence,

Which should be Poets studie; not with fiction,

And common figures, but diviner attributes:

Then they must call it nothing but it selfe.

Y. W.

Have I found you? I shall search you deeper.

Artl.

The subjects weight would make a Poem weighty;

And take away the imputation

Which seeming solidnesse would throw upon't

Of a light fancie.

Y. W.

It seemes you love my Sister?

Artl.

He were a Divell did not love such goodnesse.

It is the onely vertue: frailty boasts of,

To love faire sensuall objects: but my soule

Hath noted inward beauty in her mind,

Which makes me glory (though it be presumption)

That I doe love her.

Y. W.

Cal't not presumption sir, you doe deserve her,

In that you have indear'd me for my life

Who am her Brother. And I commend you wit,

Which I presume my Sisters love hath whetted.

'Twas a quaint Plott. Were th' Actors here againe,

I'd pay their wages.

Artl.

Your Riddle needs some Oedipus to solve it.

Y. W.

Why sir, ridiculous fables

May sometimes serve for imitation.

Though twere a meere appointment in this rescue,

To shew your love and valour.

Artl.

What base suspition

Poysons his jealous thoughts! 'Tis injurie

Beyond all patience.

Y. W.

Alas sir, you are mov'd?

Art.

Yes, to an indignation, whose just heat

Burnes me almost to rage. But there are charmes

[Page] And spels about you conjure downe my spirit.

You are her Brother.

Young. Wor.

It seemes your guilt dare not denie the truth?

Artl.

Dare not denie it!

Were thy hands armd with Thunder;

Hadst thou a Gorgons looke, wer't not her Brother,

Ring'd in the terror of a thousand Jibbets

And executioners, I have a point

Should finde thy hart out.

Y. W.

But I must tell you sir,

Seldome high spirits that pursue their honours,

With earnest fllights, will stoop at weake respects:

But prey upon th' opinion of those men

That scan their actions; tearing their reputations

Out of suspitions bowels. Hee's not a Gentle man

Will not preserve his honour.

Artl.

Your speech, Sir,

Savours of strange severity. My honour

Is that part of my selfe, without which

The man that's in me can have no subsisting.

Honour's the greatest of exteriour goods,

And must be still pursu'd as the reward

Due unto vertue, through the greatest dangers.

Yet fortitude is not the appetite

Of formidable things, nor inconsult

Rashnes; but vertue fighting for a truth;

Deriv'd from knowledge of distinguishing

Good or bad causes. Thinke me not a Coward

Because I am not rash: nor through defect

O [...] better counsell, doe not resist the force

Of will or passion; how soe're your jealousie

Proceeding from our better thoughts infection

Hath beene a provocation. And perhaps

The love I beare your Sister, will appeare

Your chiefest safety.

Y. Wor.

In an attempt of right

[Page] I have more safetie heere then your pr [...]ences

Can arme m [...] with But if you love my Sister,

It must be honourable and not wanton:

She will finde Champi [...]s [...]eise.

Artl.

I must be honourable!

Those words include a doubt works strangely in me.

Love must not wrack my reputation.

Sir, I begin to scan the circumstance,

And conster your intention. You would trie me:

Bu [...] your temptations have beene too abusive.

And now my resolution is prepar'd

To doe my credit justice.

Y. W.

You will not fight with me that am her Brother?

Artl.

There's Magick in those words.

Y. W.

I doe presume my Sister will reward you

For these expressions. She is free to pay

Her servants promis'd wages; be it kisses,

Or any other dalliance.

Artl.

What a prophane breath from his blacke mouth flies,

Would poison all the idolatrous religions

That e're aw'd wicked mortalls.

He is not sure her brother, but some impostor,

That onely counterfeit's his worthier person,

I could be patient at the lye, or Coward,

Or any thing that can make passion violent.

But her bright honour staind's a cause of justice

To arme a Nation. Draw, if th'art a man;

And with the plea of valour, (if th'ast any)

Defend thy errours: Draw thy sword.

Y. W.

Not against him that loves my Sister.

Artl.

Is my just anger mock't! love made ridiculous!

Draw; lest I make my selfe an Executioner.

And doe an act of justice on thy guilt.

Y. W.

Never against your bosome, where a spirit

So truely noble dwel's, that hath converted

All my faign'd jealousies to usefull love.

[Page]Artl.

I am confounded to amazement.

Y. W.

Pray reconcile all your distractions.

Let not the least distrust abuse your confidence

Of what I undertake. My Sister's yours,

If the advise of me that am her Brother,

And interested in her good or ill,

Can be prevailing.

Artl

Then requesting Sir,

That you'l presume no more upon the priviledge

Of that pure love I beare your vertuous Sister

T' admit a jealousie of any action,

Or thought of mine which tends not unto noblenesse,

Next unto her my bosome holds you deare,

And shall doe ever.

Y. W.

So mine the like. Thus noble causes

Put fire into the spirits of full men.

Though sometimes seeming valour may arise

Through lust or wine, from hatefull cowardise.

Goe forth by the left Scoene.

4

4

Act. 4. Scoen. 1.

Enter IERKER and IEFFREY, with a Drawer, by the left Scoene.

BOY.

ANon, anon Sir, by and by.

Ier.

Some more wine Boy. Is Mr. Art love return'd?

Boy.

Not yet Sir.

Ieffrey.

Poore Gentleman; hee's complaining to the Moone, or studying the event of his love in the Starres. Mee thinks I could make a counterfeit expression of his passions to the life.

[Page]

[...] Ministresse

[...] light; dance [...] quall motions

On thy foure orbes; bu [...] qu [...]ch thy paler fires

In Lovers teares, that [...] constancie

M [...]y so be drown'd. I would I were in love Cousin.

Ierk.

Before you are capable of it.

Ieffr.

Why Cousin, is it not defin'd to be youth's folly!

Indeed, all things in Youth are folly.

Ierk

Not so Coz. all folly may be in Youth:

But many times 'tis mixt with grave discretion,

That tempers it to use; and make's it judgement

Equall if not exceeding that which Palseys

Hath almost shaken into a disease.

But why would you be in love Coz.

Ieffr.

That I might Poetize: you know 'tis the onely dancing Master to teach the Art of Measures; though I have knowne Poets scarce able to stand on their feet.

Ierk.

Then you would write Satyres Coz?

Ieffr.

'Tis your dancing conceit. But the Grinkums Cousin cleaves not the feete.

Enter DASHER.

Ierk.

Mr. Dasher, this freenesse hath doubled the favor; vizit us of your owne accord!

Dash.

Gentlemen my selfe, and all that depends on my selfe, or on any thing that hath dependance on my selfe, is at your service.

Ieffr.

I should desire your wife then.

Dash.

Sweet young Gentleman, you are the Epitome of a faire body, and shall command the Commander of my selfe and family. I will but present a glasse of Greeke Sacke to the hands of a noble Lord, and returne to serve you.

Exit.

Ierk.

You have a vertue Sir, I could wish communicated.

Ieffr.

What's that Cousin?

Ierk.

To cozzen Cousin.

[Page]Ieffr.

And would you learne it?

Ierk.

The Theorie, but not the Practicke. I converse much in Tavernes; and the use should onely be a thrifty prevention.

Ieffr.

As my observation hath taught me somthing in a baudy house, where they cannot change money.

Enter DASHER.

Dash.

Now Gentlemen dispose of your seruant.

Ierk.

Indeed Mr. Dasher our Wine's naught.

Dash.

How I naught I who drew it? name but your drawer; he is punish't whilst you pronounce it. I'le not keepe an offensive mouse that eats the crums under my table, but shall pay his life to doe you service.

Exit.

Ieffr.

Why Cousin, the Wine's good.

Ierk.

I onely gave him matter for a complement.

Ieffr.

'Tis pitty to abuse him that is so apt to abuse himselfe. But what doe you muse on Cousin?

Ierk.

I am studdying a conceited health.

Ieffr.

Why to the long standing of Banbury May-pole.

Ierk.

No Puritan will pledge that.

Ieffr.

Yes, the Good-wives: they'l finde dancing a more wholsome exercise for the body, then some of their Doctrines for the Soule.

The second Scoene.

Enter ART LOVE and young WORTHY, by the left Scoene.

Ierk.

Ar't come friend, and Mr. Worthy?

Y. W.

Our mutuall loves.

Enter DASHER.

Dash.

I am bound to serve you Gentlemen, and I wish my roofe were worthier, and my disordered houshould order'd to your content.

[Page]Artl.

We are bound to thanke your readinesse.

Dash.

Gentlemen, your servant will send his servants to wait upon you presently.

Exit.

Ierk.

What accident brought you two together?

Artl.

The mercie of my Startes: but what event

Their influence will direct, I cannot prophesie.

[...]re [...]hee be carefull, hee's a Cynick noter

Of men and of their manners

Ierk.

If he bite.

Here's that shall blunt his fangs.

Artl.

Good friend be milde;

Temper thy passions here. Scandall may grow

From low foundations to an heighth of infamy.

Thou know'st my temperance doth not oft frequent

These publique places.

Y. Wor.

Sir, the relation 'twixt a son and father

May make you jealous of my partiall nature.

Trust me, I never yet was so indulgent

To mine owne weaknesse, that untill my judgement

Had made a full distinguishment of causes,

I could bee violent in his defence

Farther then fisiall dutie; which sometimes

Hath stretcht it selfe to counsell and advice

Against suspition. For though your wild behaviour

In some particular actions might provoke him,

Shee whom new dutie makes me now call mother

Hath given large testimonie of her vertue

Even to satisfaction of all goodnesse;

Although his age (in other things judicious)

Cannot so easily admit beliefe,

And safer confidence.

Ierk.

Though I appeare

In outward carriage apt to make distrust

Condemne me vicious; yet my Soule retaines

(Besides a generous disposition

Deriv'd from noble blood) some scrupulous sparkes

Of better conscience. Call it not selfe-flattery

[Page] In that I am mine owne defenses instrument.

Report sufficiently may informe your knowledge,

(Nor is it error) that my interest

In her you now call Mother

Was beyond all dispute: our equall loves

Mov'd in one circle; and our thoughts were fixt▪

Nor can I varie; shee's the object still

Of my desires. I confesse I use

Wanton sollicites; and should scarse resist

My wishes satisfaction she consenting.

But those delights would end in such a loathing,

That I should never more have mercifull thought

There can be any goodnesse left in Woman.

Y. W.

This jarres upon my heart-strings.

Ierk.

Dos't distast you Sir,

That I defend my selfe?

Y. W.

You must not wrong my Father.

Ierk.

I doe abhor the thought of injurie.

Nor shall my spirit fall in the just plea

Of mine owne right.

Y. W.

But not to wrong my Father.

Ieffr.

If he bee abusive, Cousin challenge him. I'le bee your second.

Ierk.

Hee's not a Crane Coz.

Ieffr.

Nor I a Pigmie; you mock my love.

Ierk.

Your forwardnesse is dangerous.

Ieffr.

Why, he can never have wit, that is not valiant.

I'le trie him my selfe, if not to disturb you Sir.

Y. W.

I thanke you little one.

Ieffr.

How little one I Is not that an affront Cousin?

Ierk.

'Tis as you take it Coz.

Artl

Fill some Wine boy: never a Drawer here?

Enter DASHER.

Dash.

What Gentlemen, none to attend you? (whooh) An unlook'd for happines [...] that my unworthy selfe is prefer'd.

[Page]Y. W.

An inferiour servant may serve, Mr. Dasher.

Dash.

I am the servant of my servant that shall serve you. And unlesse hee serve you he is not my servant. I'le tunre them all away presently for this neglect of your worthy Persons.

Exit.

Ieffr.

Men weare swords Sir.

Y. W.

And boyes too sometimes.

Ieffr.

You'l answer it?

Y. W.

Answer what Child?

Ieffr.

Little one! Boy! Child! I shall bee degraded next to an infant.

Ierker.

Fie Cousin, containe. The Gentleman cannot brooke it.

Y. W.

Yes Sir, hee can brooke any thing but wronging of his Father.

Artl.

I pray no more, the subject is too harsh

To make good musicke in societie.

Ierk.

Then here's a health to her that best deserves

The attribute of Faire: whose white and red

Prove what's lifes mixture. From whose forms exactnes

Rules of Proportion might be better drawne

Then from Arts Principles. To her whose Youth

Warmes Winters icie bosome with her Spring;

Yet will not wrong your Father. As it goes round,

Each give his Mistris some comm [...]nding Character.

Artl.

Why then a health to her whose beauties are

Not a grosse Earth, with painted superficies;

But a more spright [...]y Element of pure [...]ire.

Within whose Sphaere a glorious M [...]nde doth move

All th' orbes of vertue with celestiall flame.

Whose active climbings carry her d [...]si [...]es

To th' utmost height of noblenesse and honour:

To her that calls you Brother.

Y. W.

Let not your love appeare so full of flattery.

Ierk.

Nay, Coz; [...].

Ieffr.

Then here's a health to her will freely put

[Page] Her sweets to use. Kisse, and be kist againe

Without a fie. Whose boldnesse will not blush

At an assault, or any wanton touch.

And if a man persist to farther doing,

Accounts it losse of time, a tedious wooing.

To her that I call Mistris.

Y. W.

Bravely come off Sir.

Ieffr.

I can come on Sir.

Artl.

Now Sir, 'tis yours.

Y. W.

This Sack shall then have my Encomium.

Which had the youthfull Father ever tasted

He would have left his rites to Poetize;

And chang'd his Yvy Chaplets into Bayes:

Vnchain'd his spotted Linxes, and supply'd

His Chariots loftier course with Pegasus.

And with bewitching numbers charm'd the gods

To be his Bacchanalls, that they might feast

With this most heavenly Nectar.

Enter DASHER.

Ierk.

Mr. Dasher, your Wine [...]s highly commended.

Dash.

I can assure you Gentlemen, the Grape from whence this Sacke was prest—

Y▪ W.

Grew in Spaine.

Dash.

I would have fetcht it farther Gentlemen to doe you service. A voyage to the Indies should bee no more then a descending into my cellar, and up agen.

Art.

You have handsomely contracted your journey.

Ierk.

But Mr. Dasher, you have an eminent House, extraordinary Wine and entertainment; but no Signe at first to distinguish it.

Ieffr.

Me thoughts Cousin, the Logger-heads was a pretty conceit.

Ierk.

Had there not beene a third.

Dash.

Gentlemen; I intended a paire of Scales with a glasse of Wine in one Ballance, and a piece of gold in the other, or a jewell.

[Page]Y. Wor.

An excellent conceit, to shew the value of good Wine.

Dash.

Sweet Gentlemen, I am the servant of your noble wits. I must kisse the [...]a [...]re hand of an honourable Lord, who is now departing: I will then returne to be dispos'd by you.

Exit.

The third Scoene.

Enter Sir GENEROVS, young WORTHY by the left Scoene.

Y. Wor.

Sir 'tis my father.

Sir Gen.

Ha! my sonne here, and Mr Ierker!

I came i'th' person of authoritie,

Invited by your noise. But that put off,

Out of my love borne to the generall good,

I doe advise you to be temperate:

That the faire hopes conceiv'd of growing vertues

Might not be lost. 'Tis pitty that your wits,

Which (joyn'd with some experience) might deserve

To fill the seats of Magistracie, and be

A speaking law) should spend themselves in places

And acts of sin and shame; wherein severitie

Of law and government must not be partiall.

Therefore I pray no more of these disorders.

Y. Wor.

Pray Sir, take nothing ill. 'Tis the necessity

Of his place: his disposition else is milder.

Ierk.

Sir, we are Gentlemen; and by that priviledge

Though we submit to politique Government

In publique things may be our owne law-makers

In morall life. If we offend the law

The law may punish us; which onely strives

To take away excesse, not the necessity

Or use of what's indifferent, and is made

Or good or bad by 'ts use. We doe not drinke

[Page] To a distemper, and from thence derive

Th' originall of mischiefes: nor is pleasure

Our law but temperance. Creation made

Every thing good, if we abuse it not.

Then good Sir, (though you find enormitles

Amongst the rabble) be not so suspitious

Of our more carefull carriage, that are gentlemen.

Sir Gen.

You have said to satisfaction

And more then I expected. Harke you sonne.

Art.

I did not think th'adst beene so good an Oratou [...].

Ierk.

Why friend? because wanton familiaritie

Make's us lesse serious when we are alone,

Must it necessitate we cannot speake

In a high cause! Cousin, you must be carefull

Of your behaviour: you are before a Iustice.

Ieffr.

Why Cousin, have Iustices power over a mans will?

Ierk.

Some busie ones have arrogated much;

But being told their owne have ever since

Given Gentlemen a due respect.

Ieffr.

I'le make a tryall here. Please you a little

To put off this severer gravitie;

And drinke a glasse of Sack. Your age is Priviledge

In what the law of moderation,

Denies our hotter blood.

Sir Gen.

Pretty sweet Gentleman. Is't possible

That one so young, should have so gray a wit;

'Tis wanting many times in graver beards.

Please you Mr. Ierker, to bring these Gentlemen to my house to supper. You'l find some emptie dishes.

Ierk.

We know your table's plentifully furnisht.

Sir Gen.

This was very good Sacke, neighbour. Pray send me home a dozen Bottles. And keepe good orders.

Dash.

The best orders that can be kept in my hous [...] or any office of my house shall bee at your Worships service.

[Page]Ieffr.

[...]ogh; that complem [...]nt stinckes.

Sir Gen.

You are very cou [...]t [...]ou, neighbour. Will you goe along with me Gentlemen!

Artl.

We are your servants. 'Tis a blest opportunity.

Sir Gen.

You shall now make tryall of my profest love.

Ierk.

The reckoning M. Dasher

Artl.

Wee'l take the Barr [...] our way.

Goe forth by the left Scoene.

Dasher.

You'l doe mee honour to pay it there. Ten thousand welcomes wait upon you Gentlemen (whoo [...]) Come sirrah, be the Mercury of neatnesse, and nimbly set this disorder'd roome in order. Then give the gentleman below notice, that it is now ready to doe him service: Hee's like to be a bountifull guest. He talks of selling his Land, and being a Wit: but how can that agree together I yes, very well. A countrey Gentleman to s [...]ll his land, is as it were to change his copie: leave his knowne trade to project a better profit. Which changing of Copie here with us, ends many times in the citie freehold at Ludgate.

The fourth Scoene.

Enter DVNG VVORTH, RALPH and DOBSON, by the left SCOENE.

Dash.

Worthy Sir, I have now made ready a roome to entertaine your worthy person. My house was so cramd with Lords; and this especially with most choyce gentlemen, some of the admired wits, to which very name I owe respect and service.

Ralph.

'Tis a fine Chamber, it shines like a Gold-smiths shop in Cheap-side.

Dung.

'Twould much inde [...]re mee to your kindnesse to bring mee acquainted with some of those Wits: you say they keepe their rendevous here many times. If I may [Page] mold my selfe capable I should gladly add to their number. Indeed, I have had but Countrey breeding.

Dobs.

City bringing up forfooth.

Ralph.

Yes; for we ridd like mad men.

Dash.

Questionlesse, Sir, there are of the wits some mercenary ones, whom your money may command to be your servants. But these are of a nobler straine. Howsoever, I will upon the next occasion shew my desire to doe you service.

Dobs.

Prethee Ralph, what be those Wits? A familie?

Ralph.

No Dobson, they be of all tribes. Some are Iewes, and some are Gentiles. Some are noble both in blood and condition, and some in neither. Some studie Arts of use; some of delight; some conceive well, but talke wickedly.

Dobs.

Those be the Women Ralph.

Ral.

No interruptions. Some breake jests; some breake pates; some breake Tailours; and some breake their fasts with Duke Humphrey.

Dobs.

A wise house-keeper belike.

Ralph.

Some weare Plush that others pay for. Some love Sacke, and some love wenches. Few will dye of the Aldermans Gout, and some will never bee cur'd of their owne—

Dobs.

I understand thee Ralph. But how com'st thou to know all this?

Ralph.

Tut man; I liv'd in London before now; was servant to one that converst much with the wits, and kept an Academie of Musicke. I tell thee Dobson, I have pickt up mo [...]e learning among the crummes of a broken bisket, after one of their meetings at a Taverne, then would make twenty Ballad-makers commence Po [...]tasters; and with the over-plus indoctrinate ten Iustices Clerks, and an under-Sheriffe.

[Page]

The fifth Scoene.

Enter Mris. TONGALL, and LITTLEVVORD by the left Scoene.

Dungw.

Sweet Mistris, you are welcome to my expectation.

Tong.

If my presumption to bring a worthy acquaintance along with me, seem's not unmannerly.

Dungw.

You rather expresse kindnesse to a stranger that desires worthy company.

Tong.

Sweet Mr. Dasher, you are the best Woman Vintener that ever lov'd a Gossips tale. You have so many good things to pleasure a woman with. You were wont to have an excellent neat tongue.

Dash.

Sweet Mris. Tongall, my best tongue, and all is at your service.

Tong.

Kind Master Dasher.

Dung.

To your welcome Mistresse.

Tong.

My humblenes receives your favour thankfully. My service to you Mr. Dasher.

Dash.

I kisse the hand of your servant.

Ralph.

And make a legg. This Vintener sure hath had very mannerly breeding. he came not from the Bankes side, where the surly Watermen live.

Dash.

Noble sir, I presume to present my desires to doe you service.

Dobs.

This Gentleman hath lesse manners. Hee answers nothing.

Tong.

My friend (Sir) though he be of few words, is a fine wit, and a great observer.

Dung.

A Wit, Mistris; I shall be the prouder of his acquaintance. But when I am a Witt, I shall preferre my talking before my observation.

Tong.

I thank you Mr Little-word.

[Page]Ralph.

Mr. Littleword and Mris Tongall! very good. Sure this woman had a French-man to her Father.

Tong.

Indeed Mr. Dasher, 'tis excellent Sacke. If you were unmarried you should have my daughter [...]inny, for keeping such good Wi [...] in your house.

Dash.

I retribute all due thanks for your kindnesse, that you would doe me so great an honour.

Ralph.

Mistris, you said I should have your daughter.

Tong.

My friend, why so thou shalt. This Sacke makes my heart merry.

Ralph.

Who then shall my Master have?

Tong.

Why my Daughter linny.

Ralph.

A right woman: so her tongue goe, no matter what she sayes.

Dash.

What will that Gentleman with his table-booke!

Dung.

Let's have a health to some body.

Tong.

Please you Sir, to my daughter Iinny.

Dung.

Let it goe round then.

Tongall.

And hee that will not pledge it, shall not have her.

Dobs.

I hope we shall drinke now Ralph.

Ralph.

Else we lose both our share of the Sack, and our hopes of her daughter Iinny.

Ent. Drawer.

Dung.

Some more Wine.

Dash.

(Whooh) be nimble sirrah; and bring of my kingdome (that's my word for good wine) that it may wait on these Gentlemen.

Tong.

William, thou art an honest fellow; and if thou bringst us good wine, thou shalt have my daughter Iinny from them all.

Dash.

Sure this Gentleman write's what I speake. I hope 'twas not treason to say my Kingdome. I would I knew what he were.

Dung.

The Vi [...]tener seem's troubled at this Gentlemans table-booke.

Tong.

'Tis his practise of observation. Hee is taking [Page] a humour for a Play: perhaps my talking of my daughter Iinny.

Dung.

I'le hatch some mirth from it. Sir, you must not take it ill, if I tell you of your errours. You have spoken somthing rashly.

Dash.

Kind and worthy Sir, my life is your servant for this noble care.

Dung.

That silent Gentleman is an intelligencer; a state spie. Hee' [...] informe against you. Therefore complie with him to prevent it. 'Tis his pollicie to say nothing himselfe, that his observation may be the more, and his owne danger the lesse.

Dash.

Sir, I owe your goodnesse all that ever I have beene, am, or shall be. He writes againe.

Tong.

Now Mr. Little-word, you have some fine matter there to worke upon.

Dash.

To undoe me. Sir, I desire you will command all that is to bee commanded in my house to doe you service. Yes, yes; he writes againe.

Dung.

That word command is a word of great danger, I would you had not us'd it.

Dash.

Alas Sir, Mris Tongall, 'twas not neighbourly done of you to bring an informer into my hous [...].

Tong.

How, I bring an Informer! as I am a Matron, he's a Gentleman, a wit, and a rare Projector.

Dash.

I believe it, to undoe a poore Vintener, that cannot complement a Gentleman into a ten pounds expence; but his necke must be in danger. Sir, if I were a King I would be your servant. He writes againe.

Enter a BOY.

Dung.

Blesse me Sir, you have spoken treason.

Dash.

Alas, Sir, I, am undone then.

Boy.

Master, the Constable and other officers are comming up.

Dash.

Yes, yes; to apprehend me.

Ralph.

'Tis for us, Dobson.

[Page]Dung.

The Constable▪ I hope wee are not suspected persons.

Tong.

If I thought you were, you should never have my daughter Iinny.

The sixth Scoene.

Enter CONSTABLE and OFFICERS; by the left SCOENE.

Const.

By your leave Gentlemen.

Ralph.

You are welcome Sir, and I pray be gone.

Const.

But not without you Sir. You are suspected, and must answer—

Dung.

Answer what? heere are neither Traitors nor [...].

Dash.

I feare I shall be prov'd both.

Tong▪

No Sir, nor night-walkers that are taken up, and cast downe I have declar'd my selfe of as good carriage as any in the neighbour-hood; and my daughter Iinny waits upon an honourable Ladie.

Dash.

Mr. Constable, I am your servant, I hope you suspect no Traitors in my house. If you doe, they shall wait upon you into the Cellar; and there commit what treason you will against as good Sack as is in the King of Spaines Dominions. The Gentleman writes still. I am utterly lost.

Const.

There are two suspected to be heere, that have broken the peace, and committed a robbery.

Dobs.

Denie it Ralph.

Ralph.

I tell you Constable, there are none heere, but can breake the peace, as well as you that are a Constable.

Dung.

They shall obey your authority, and in the Vinteners phraze wait upon you.

[Page]Dash.

I feare I must wait upon the Gallowes.

Dungw.

Being my servants, Ple goe likewise along with you.

Dash.

Yes, yes; a meere plot to goe along, that hee may witnesse against me.

Dobs.

Feare nothing Ralph, the Gentlewomen will not see us hang'd.

Ralph.

But they may suffer us, and that's a word for hanging.

Dung.

You seeme apprehensive of your owne danger. There's a reckoning to pay; if you but forgive it, [...]'le free you from this Gentlemans information.

Dash.

Most gladly Sir, and bee your servant. But how shall I be sure of it?

Dung.

You shall heare it from his owne mouth. You will not (Sir) informe any thing against this man! I pray say no.

Little.

No.

Dash.

I am satisfied: and will be your servant in any thing but treason.

Tong.

But be sure you speake to Mistris Dorothy. Nay I'le along with you too, and perhaps speake a good word.

I have acquaintance with the Iustice, and his Clerke knows my daughter Iinny.

Dash.

Let mee bee your servant Mr. Constable, and light you downe. I hope my house will receive no scandall by this.

Dung.

'Twas a beginning yet, and more may hit.

Thus in th' abus'd sense cheating is cal'd wit.

Goe forth by the left Scoene.

5

5

[Page]

Act. 5. Scoen. 1.

Enter SVSAN, by the middle SCOENE.

SVSAN.

THanks honest Nicholas. 'Tis time to cover: my Lady will to supper so soone as my Master comes home. He brings strangers with him. This Butler is the kindest fellow to a Gentleuman; and deserves my love more for this bottle of Sacke, then Warrant or Spruce for fighting. Come thou inspirer of a diviner soule, that teachest mysteries, of which without thee none are capable: to bee valiant; to love; to Poetise: suffer a thirsty gentleuman to delight her drye pallat with thy sweet moisture, and refresh her spirits with thy comfortable operation. (Drinks) Excellent Sack, as I am a Gentleuman. Now am I in love with my old Master for buying it; wth the Vintener for selling it; with the Drawer for drawing it; nay, with the very Porter that brought it home: but most of all with kinde Nicholas for bestowing it upon mee; good heart, hee hath v [...]nt [...]'d a chiding if it should be mist. (Drinks.) What foolish Poets were they that made the more foolish gods drinke Nectar! Had Apollo presented Daphne but with a cup of such Sack, sh [...]e would have lov'd him, as I d [...]e Nicholas: but not to lye with him. A gentleuman must not humble her selfe to a Butler. (Drinks.) My Ladie.

[Page]

The second [...]

Enter LADIE, by the middle Scoene.

Lady▪

What is't should make my Husbands jealousie

Rage [...]o within him to suspect the visits

Of every friend! Cannot my carefull carriage

Kill his distrust, and make him confident!

Many a young Ladie that had such excuses

As I may well pretend, his age, diseases,

And all the cold defects are incident

To a decaying strength, would priviledge

Her rasher wills dispense with young desires.

Such are in me; but not to satisfaction:

I must not wrong my fame: though my hot bloud

Should danc [...] a lustfull measure. But hee's jealous;

And I must practise some strange cure upon it.

Secretary.

Susan.

Madame.

Lady.

Why doe you gaze upon me?

Susan.

I would not for th'exchange your Ladiship were a man.

Lady.

And why so?

Susan.

I should runne madd, for love of your Ladiship.

Lady.

What humour have you got? you have sure beene tipling. Fie Secretary.

Susan.

I hope your Ladiship hath a better opinion of your uman, then to be earnest because she jests.

Lady.

You know Mr. Ierker?

Susan.

A very handsome gentleman. I wonder no worthy Gentleuman is in love with him:

Lady.

No Secretary; what thinke you of me?

[Page]Susan.

Doth your [...] truely and so doe.

Lady.

But not as I doe▪

I could betray mine honour to his l [...]ve;

And s [...]ll my fame for his [...] embraces▪

Give those delights which are my Husbands due

To his enjoying.

Susan.

And w [...]ll your Ladiship discover this to mee? Truely I meane not to bee degraded from your Ladiships uman, to hold the doore, and crye, my Master's comming.

Lady.

Thy employment shall be

Whe [...] wee are closely set at dallyance

Blush not what ere thou seest; but call thy Master;

The service may be worth a new gowne.

Susan.

How, call my Master! Did ever any Ladie enjoy a friend in a corner, and wish her Husband (who is sufficiently jealous alreadie) to see it! Now as I am a Gentleuman, and had rather bee a Ladie, 'tis not my mind.

Lady▪

But 'tis mine;

His knowledge of't would add to the delight,

And make th' offence lesse. Citie Dames can practise

Slights to deceive their Husbands, mine shall know it.

Susan.

But is your Ladiship earnest?

Lady.

As earnest as resolves can make me.

Susan.

But I am resolv'd not to obey your Ladyship. Shall I that am my Ladies Secretary as it were, be treacherous to her secrets? Then let me not be counted a gentleuman. If it please your Ladiship Ile tell him you intend such a thing that he may prevent it.

Lady.

Dispute not my commands, but doe them:

O [...] I shall stop the current of my favours.

That hitherto have flow'd so fully on thee.

[Page]

The third Scoene.

Enter Sir GENEROVS WORTHY, IERKER, ARTLOVE, Y. WORTHY, SVSAN, IEFFREY, by the middle SCOENE.

Sir Gen.

I have brought you some guests Wife. Send your entertainment be worth their labour.

Lady.

I could wish it much better for Master Ierkers sake.

Sir Gen.

I feare you are too free that way.

I am yet a man, and my declining age

Hath not so weakened judgement in me,

That passion should betray my jealous thoughts.

Nor can I but suspect, and must be satisfied.

Her woman is the instrument. Mris. Susan.

Y. W.

Pray Sir, let me prepare her. No more will I

In the severer Person of a counsellour

Instruct your care. But since by curious search

I have inform'd my knowledge

Even to satisfaction of his worth,

Let me commend this noble gentleman

Vnto your best desires; let him possesse them.

Dorot.

Brother, without mature consideration

I dare not doe an act; on which depends

Such dangerous events.

Y. W.

My love's your warrant.

Have not I searchd him throughly? have not I

Found him deserving all that's due to man,

Though malice were his judge. View but his person,

Art could not shape a m [...]re exact prep [...]rtion:

And through his Christall bosome read his heart

Wherein such noble thoughts are character'd—

[Page]Susan.

You shall command a poore Gentleuman any thing; neither doe I expect reward. I onely desire you will accept it as an act of my love. But why should you be jealous of my Lady.

Sir Gen.

Aske me no idle questions, but doe it. Thou mayst bee a Lady thy selfe, if it lie in my power to raise thee.

Susan.

Alas Sir, an old man raise a Gentleuman.

Dorot.

We have a father (Brother) to whose care

We owe another dutie, then that onely

Which Nature hath injoyn'd us for receiving

Our beings from him. Let not our rash wills

Sway'd onely by desire, run any course

Agrees not with his liking: Yet I'le tell

The Gentleman how much he owes your love

For thus commending him.

Lady.

How now Sir Generous?

Courting my woman? am not I warme enough

To thaw your frozen appetite?

Susan.

Truly Sir, if my Lady knew how much I lov'd

you, 'twould make her jealous.

Lady.

Indeed it would not.

Revenge should be a remedie.

Sir Gen.

That's my feare.

Lady.

Nay, to her againe; you are not the first

That hath abus'd his Lady.

Sir Gen.

Wife, forgoe these fond thoughts, and with care apply your selfe to entertain these gentlemen. I'le to my closet.

goes forth.

Lady.

I want but th' opportunity of their absence,

Which I must straight contrive.

Artl.

I am now animated

To come the neerest way without more circumstance;

And tell you how your beauty and your vertues

Have won on my desires to make them yours.

[Page]Dorot.

I thanke you Sir, and could mine owne eyes see

But halfe that worth my Brother sayes is in you,

My equall thoughts should answer.

Y▪ W.

What said she Sir?

Artl.

It seemes you did commend me!

Y. W.

Yes by my hopes of good, no otherwise

Then I desire to have my selfe commended

Vpon the like occasion.

Artl.

I must thanke you Sir.

Y. W.

I doe interpret it; and have thought upon

Another tryall. Let me intreat you Sister

To conster my intentions right. Though I

Commended him, 'twas onely to distinguish

Your passion and your reason. Now I find

The latter strongest, that you refuse the love

Of one so much defective.

Dorot.

How! defective!

Brother, my judgement hath as searching eyes

Can see the fulnesse of his manly worth

Through all the vailes of your detraction.

And now to shew how much I doe prefer

The freedome of my will before your counsell;

I'le tell him I doe love him.

Y. W.

Sister, I hope

You are not earnest!

Dorot.

As earnest as my love;

Which since I first beheld him tooke possession

Of all my though [...]s, though customary nicenesse

Restraind me from discovering them; but now—

Lady

Pray daughter oversee the servants.

Exit Dorothy.

Y. W.

Mother beshrew your heart, she was in a good [...]eine. But come sir, wee [...]l pursue it.

Exeunt young Worthy, and Artlove.

Ieffr.

It hath beene no small punishment for mee to [Page] hold my peace all this while. My Cousin is morall before companie and counsel's my manners. But now I hope my tongue shall have libertie; and her's my Ladies gentleuman to exercise it with.

La.

Your little Cousin may stay. How like you the plot?

Ierk.

As the end proves it. And since your constancie

Hath held out 'gainst my leud temptations,

Which have as well beene tryals of your vertues

As acts of wantonnesse, I here desist.

Henceforth my tongue shall never uttor sound

Offensive to your modestie.

Lady.

Pray let's sit,

And enter on the project, though it be nice

When wit masks vertue in a cloke of vice.

Susan.

They are going to it, and heer's a little one will tell. Pray sir, can you keepe counsell?

Ieffr.

As well as a woman.

Susan.

Indeed they and children are kin.

Ieffr.

You need not feare your secrets.

Susan.

Then I shall love you heartily. But pray Sir, no medling with a gentleumans apron. Here's that will helpe your growth: Please you to partake.

Ieffr.

She abuseth me, I must fit her. What is't Mistris?

Susan.

Sack I assure you Sir; and I hope you will love [...] poore gentleumans as she loves you.

Ieffr.

If the Butler be not too deeply interested.

Lady.

Secretarie.

Susan.

Madame.

Lady.

You forget your imployment.

Susan.

I saw your Ladiship doe nothing yet.

Lady.

Doe we not kisse!

Susan.

I runne then, and dare not looke backe for feare of blushing.

Exit.

Ieffr.

What strange contrivement's this?

[Page]

The fourth Scoene.

Enter Sir GENEROVS WORTHY with SVSAN, by the middle Scoene.

Lady.

Nay, blush not Mr. Ierker, ours is no act of shame, but to be gloried in; youth to youth. Sir Generous are your hornes so lop-heavy they make you hang the head. Never droop at it man. A Lord may bee a Cuckold and never the wiser: you have gotten the knowledge of what o [...] did but suspect before.

Sir. Gen.

Out of my warring thoughts discretion

Ha [...] horder'd a resolve, whose practise shall

Preserve my credit. Though I much wonder

A womans smooth hypocrisie should make

Even her secret'st actions to appeare

Most vertuous; yet in this to staine her whitenesse.

Lady.

I did it Sir to cure your jealousie

More then for satisfaction of desire,

Which I have often satiated, when

Your cold abilities were comforted

With downe and sileuce; when your dreames presented

The quiet of a grave.

Ierk.

I did it Sir,

In gratitude for your hospitality.

Please you to take my counsell. Be divore't.

You need no proofes, since shees her owne accuser.

I'le then procure a dispensation

And wee'l be marr [...]ed.

Sir Gen.

'Tis assented to.

Nay more, I'le give you all her portion backe:

Nor shall the least disquiet in my thoughts

Make me remember it. Think not (young man) mine age

[Page] So weake▪ but I can conquer passion.

My act sh [...]l instantly have confirmation;

And be a president where such inequality

Of yeares are joyn'd.

Lady.

Pray good Sir Generous stay.

I have not yet consented; and I thinke

The Law cannot dispense whilst either live.

If you resolve divorce, you [...]l onely force me

To an unwil [...]ing widdow-hood; and how little

My innocence deserves, the least suspect,

Though I did faigne a guilt for better ends,

Iust heaven can witnesse. There was no necessity

To tempt my woman to discover us.

It was my first command.

Sir Gen.

I heare strange words

Which must be scann'd and construed.

Ierk.

Here my solicites cease. But I desire

I may [...]em [...]ine the servant of your vertues,

And weare your favours livery, whose example

H [...]h won on my resolves to reconcile

My [...]lder soule.

Lady.

Whilst you persever in't,

I shall preserve you in my purest thoughts;

But never to infect them.

Sir Gen.

The World reputes me

A man of full discretion; and mine age

Is not so rotten yet, to betwice childe.

Hence yee vaine jealousies, that in love diseas'd

Are peccant humours: therefore must be purg'd.

Come to my bosome patterne of true goodnesse.

Nere more those bug-beares to the minds blest quiet

Shall fright thee thence.

Lady.

Then will my joyes be setled.

Sir Gen.

Good Sir forgive

The rashnesse of my passion. I'le no more

[Page] Be jealous of your visits; but desire

The love I beare your person may beusefull

To all g [...]od ends.

The fifth Scoene.

Enter Y. WORTHY, ARTLOVE, DOROTHY, &c.

Y. W.

Nay, blush not Sister;

Though it be vertues colour. Say't agen.

Here are more witnesses.

Sir Gen.

Whence growe's this exultation?

Y. W.

From in ward joy that she affects this gentleman,

Whose Vertues wonn

Vpon my love to be his Oratour;

And not respects infected with the mixture

Of any worse condition.

Sir Gen.

Doe you love him?

Dorot.

I hope to your kind judgement 'twill appeare

A vertuous truth.

Sir Gen.

If he be found deserving

In the dependances on bloud and fortune

I shall consent, and then may mutuall love

Render you happy.

Artl.

How am I blest that your white soule

Hath bounded it's desires within the circuit

Of my too narrow worth!

Sir Gen.

Supper not ready yet [...] my servants are musicall; please you Gentlemen to dance a little. 'Tis a healthfull exercise; bid them prepare their instruments. Come, come, settle to it.

Spruce and Warrant, enter with Musicke.

I love to see a nimble activenesse

In noble youth; it argues active minds

In well shap't bodies, and begets a joy

Dancing within me.

Dance.

[Page]

The sixth Scoene.

Enter LITTLEVVORD, TONGALL, DVNGVVORTH, CONSTABLE, RALPH and DOBSON, by the middle Scoene.

Sir. Gen.

Welcome neighbour Tongall: what meane these people?

Const.

I have brought them, an't please your Worshipp.

Sir Gener.

Whom, and't please you, Master Constable.

Const.

The theeves, and't please your Worship, that rob'd your worships Clerke.

Spruce.

Now Warrant.

Warr.

How! I rob'd! the Constable is surely drunke. I was not rob'd.

Const.

How's that! did not you bring mee to the Taverne; shew mee the fellowes, and direct me to apprehend them? Did you not promise me a share if they might be brought to a composition?

Warr.

Who? I? verily I say I know thee not.

Consta.

How! not know the Constable! Come Mr. Warrant, let mee understand the mysterie without being farther abus'd. You forget the place where wee had recreation for nothing, onely promising the wenches favour upon occasion: against whom wee afterwards inform'd to get fees.

Sir Gener.

Is't noe otherwise? it shall raise some mirth.

Dobs.

Did not I tell thee Ralph, the Gentlewomen?

Ralph.

Well, 'tis a rare thing to bee a Justice. Were I but swel'd with a little authoritie, mee thinks I could [Page] crye, you Rogue, you Rascall, or you Constable, most gravely.

Dobs.

And 'tis as rare a thing to bee a Constable; to command in the name of authority, and bee drunke at midnight, without danger of the st [...]ks.

Sir Gen.

I shall respect him Mris. Tongall. Mr. Constable I doe conceive an abuse done to my person, in that you here traduce two strangers, pretending appointment, when none will accuse them; nor can I suddainly discover the errour.

Constable.

Now by all the painted authoritie of my staffe—

Sir Gen.

No swearing Constable; I have determin'd to conferre a power upon the accused, to judge both it and you; and the most offendors shall suffer what shall be due.

Consta.

Whither shall I fall! from my Empire of command, to obey a mock-Constable! [...] danger of example forbid it, that Clownes and fooles b [...] not made Justices in earnest.

Sir Gen.

No more of this modestie: I'le have it so; and exercise your wit. I have knowne a Countrey fellow full of knavish clinches.

Dobson.

Yes Sir, 'tis ordinary in a Smith.

Ralph.

Then if I fit you not for a Justice.

Dobson.

And I for a Constable. You shall heare my tone.

Const.

And I for an offendor.

Ralph.

Can you write and read young gentleman?

Ieffr.

Like a gentleman.

Ralph.

Then you shall be my Worships Clerke. And so I assume authoritie. (hem, hem)

Spruce.

Now shall we be jeer'd out of our skins.

Warr.

Set a good face on't.

Ralph.

(hem, hem,) what are you sirrah?

[Page]Dobs.

I am Dobson, the Constable and' [...] please your Worsh [...]p.

Const.

He lies and't please your Worship, I am the Constable.

Ralph.

You were the Constable; but your dignitie is justly taken from you, and conferr'd upon honest Iohn Dobson. Thou hast beene a raskall sirrah, a corrupt Constable. Thou hast converst with deeds of darknesse, hating the all light, but wenches and a lanthorne: which a married Constable can never want at midnight. Thou hast watch't little and pray'd lesse: thou shalt therefore fast thy selfe into amendement. And so I commit thee with thy guard of Bill-men to the mercie of a Shrove-Tuesdayes rebellion. (hem, hem.)

Dobson.

Here's an other refendant, and't please your Worship.

Ralph.

N [...]w Sir, what are you?

Warr.

A Justices Clerke.

Ralph.

Oh, I know you sirrah.

You write true Latine, not to be understood by the Worshipfull bench.

Warr.

Your Worship is misinform'd. I cannot write true Orthographie without a Copie; and for Latine, I have lesse then the Dean [...] of Dunstable. I have read Ignoramus: but finding hard words which were not in the Dictionary; I sweare I understand it no more then Ignoramus himselfe.

Ralph.

Make his Mittimus and send him to schoole; (hem, hem,) what are you Sir?

Spruce.

A Gentleman Vsher.

Ralph.

You are a Malki [...] of mock-Gentry; made up of silke and vaine-glory. You begin to grow out of fashion. I will therefore have you stitcht into a case of complements, and commended to some thrifty house-keeping Ladie in the Countrey, where you may save her Ladiship [Page] the charge of a Taylour; and if you can read, serve for a house-Chaplaine in rainy weather. (hem, hem.) Bring that Countrey Gentleman before me.

D [...]ng.

You' [...] grow saucie sirrah.

Sir Gene.

Pray let's uphold the jest. I'le not spare mine owne person. Your servant's witty.

Ralph.

You are a Countrey Gentleman; a Gallant out of fashion all the yeare; but especially at Se [...]sions, and upon high Holi-dayes, when your sattin doublet drawes away the eyes of the simple, aud distracts their devotion almost into Idolatry: giving it more worship then the Heraulds ever gave your Auncestors. You intend as I understand to come forth in a new Edition: and whe [...] the Mercers and Tailors have new printed you; and that some gentile wit may be read in your Character to marry a Wife in the City. You shall then have a passe sealed upon her by a Courtier; be ship't at Cuckolds haven, and so transported into Cornwall. (Hem, hem.) Now Sir, what are you? never a wise word to answere a Justice?

Tong.

He is my friend Sir; and if you abuse him, you shall not have my daughter Iinny.

Ralph.

There is a tempest in her tongue able to shake the foundation of the wisest Justice-ship.

Dobs.

My Ladie Sir.

Ralph.

Madame, I have heard complaints of your Ladiship, that you rise early every morning before noone, and are readie before night, unlesse there bee a maske at Court. You are likewise a great frequenter of the balls, meerely out of charitie to the poore Fidlers.

Sir Gen.

He hits you home Wife.

Ieffr.

And this is my Ladies Gentleuman.

Ralph.

Stop your eares Gentlewomen, here's a foule businesse towards. But you may tell the man, the time and place, though not the manner.

[Page]Secre.

Truely Sir, if I am with child, [...] but with a bottle of Sack.

Ralph.

Give it me; I'le keepe it. Many a Justi [...] in the City keepes children are none of his owne. (Drinks.)

Ierk.

A right Sack Justice.

Ralph.

And now for you Gentlemen. You are of the wits that give Poets Sack and old Bevers, and vent their conceits in Tavernes for your owne.

Ieffr.

Please you Sir, these Gentlemen are my friends.

Ralph.

How's that! a Justice take bribes! the example is too frequent, and I will have it mended.

Sir Gen.

You begin now to overdoe.

Ralph.

Bribes have purchas'd more then the whole race of A [...]dermen since Luds time.

Sir Gen.

You are bitter now: 'tis time to resigne.

Ralph.

'Tis time indeed, when I will not take bribes to be a Justice Quondam.

Sir Gen.

When Wit makes not abuse it's exercise,

The users of it then are truely wise:

But 'tis a foolish Vanitie, not Wit,

When Conscience bounds are broke to practise it.

The EPILOGVE.

[Page]

Y' Ave seene a Play, wherein was no disguise;

No Wedding; no impro [...]able devise:

But all an easie matter, and contein'd

Within the time of action. 'Tis arraign'd;

And doubtfull stands before your judgements barre,

Expecting what your severall censures are.

Some that pretend commission to the Stage,

As th'only Cato's of this Critick Age;

Condemning all not done by imitation,

Because this new Play hath a new foundation

Wee feare will cry it downe: our hope is then

That your faire hands will raise it up agen.

FINIS.

[Page]

Information about this book

Title statement

Covent Garden a pleasant comedie: acted in the yeare, MDCXXXII. By the Queenes Majesties Servants. The author Thomas Nabbes.

Nabbes, Thomas, 1605?-1645?

Edition statement

1638

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :

Date

2004-05 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A07971

ID [STC]

STC 18339

ID [STC]

ESTC S113044

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99848285

ID [PROQUEST]

99848285

ID [VID]

13369

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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.

Series

Early English books online.

Notes

(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A07971)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 13369)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1389:5)

Source

— Covent Garden a pleasant comedie: acted in the yeare, MDCXXXII. By the Queenes Majesties Servants. The author Thomas Nabbes., Nabbes, Thomas, 1605?-1645?.

Extent

[8], 74, [2] p.

Printed by Richard Oulton, for Charles Greene; and are to be sold [by N. Fussell] at the signe of the White Lyon, in Pauls Church-yard,. London :: 1638.. (Partly in verse.) (Bookseller's name from STC.) (The first leaf and the last leaf are blank.) (Running title reads: Covent-Garden.) (Also issued as part of his: Playes, maskes, epigrams, elegies, and epithalamiums: London, 1639.) (Reproduction of the original in the Bodleian Library.)

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