A PLEASANT CONCEITED Comedy: sundry times Acted: never before printed.

Written by VVILLIAM ROWLEY, one of his Maiesties Servants.

LONDON, Imprinted by G. P. for Francis Constable, and are to be sold at his shop at the signe of the Crane in Saint Pauls Churchyard. 1632.

Actus Primus.

Enter Old Foster, Alderman Bruy [...]e and two Fact [...] [...] chard, and [...]
Old Foster.
THis ayre has a sweet a breath Master Bruy [...]
Your partner Sir.
O. Fost.
[...], and in good I hope, this hal [...]

Playes the lewd wanton with our [...] sayles,

And makes 'm big with vaporous envy.
Tis no more yet, but then our fraught is full
When shee returnes laden with merchandize
And safe deliver'd with our customage.
O. Fost.
Such a delivery heaven send us,
But time must ripen it? are our accounts made even?
To the quantity of a penny, if his agree with mines
What's yours Richard?
Five hundred sixty pounds;
[Page 2] Read the grosse summe of your broade cloathes.
68. peices at B, ss, and l; 57. at l, ss, and o.
Iust; leade, xix tunne.
O. Fost.
As evenly we will lay our bosomes as our bottome [...]
With love as merchandise, and may they both increase
[...]o Infinites.
Especially at home; that golden traffique love
Is scantier far than gold; and one myne of that
More worth than twenty Argoseyes
Of the worlds richest treasure.
O. Fost.
Here you shall dig, and finde your lading.
Here [...]s your exchange; and as in love
So wee'le participate in merchandize.
O. Fost.
The merchants casualty:
We alwayes venture on uncertaine ods,
Altho we beare hopes Embleme the anchor with us.
The winde brought it, let the wind blow't away agen;
Should not the Sea sometimes be partner with us
Our wealth would swallow us.
A good resolve: but now I must be bold
To touch you with somewhat that concernes you.
O. Fost.
I could prevent you; is't not my unthrifty brother?
Nay, leave out the adjective (unthrifty,)
[...] brother Sir, tis he that I would speake of.
He cannot be nam'd without unthrifty S [...],
[...] his p [...]oper Epithite, would you conceite
[...]ut what my love has done for him
[...], so chargeable, and so expensive,
[...] would not urge another addition.
Nay Sir, you must not stay acquantity
[...] the name of brother
Which is inseparable, hee's now in Ludgate Sir,
And part of your treasure lyes buryed with him.
O. [...]st.
I, by vulgar blemish; but not by any good account;
There let him howle, [...]s the best stay he hath;
For nothing but a prison can containe him
So boundlesse is his ryot; twice have I raysde
[Page 3] His decayed fortunes to a faire estate
But with as fruitlesse charity, as if I had throwne
My safe landed substance backe into the Sea,
Or dresse in pitty some corrupted Iade,
And he should kick me for my courtesie.
I am sure you cannot but heare, what quicke.
Sands he findes out, as Dice, Cards, Pigeon-holes,
And which is more, should I not restraine it,
Hee'd make my state his prodigality.
All this may be Sir, yet examples dayly shew
To our eyes, that Prodigalls returne at last
And the lowdest roarer, (as our Citty phrase is)
Will speake calme and smooth; you must helpe with hope Sir,
Had I such a brother, I should thinke that heaven had
Made him as an instrument for my best charity
To worke upon; This is a Maxime sure, Some
Are made poore, that rich men by giving may
Encrease their store. Nor thinke Sir, that I doe
Tax your labors and meane my selfe for to [...]
Idlely by, for I have vowd if heaven bu [...] blesse
This voyage now abroad, to leave some
Memorable relique after me, that shall
Preserve my name alive till Doomesday.
O. Fost.
I Sir, that worke is good, and therein could I
Ioyne with your good intents, but to releeve
A wast-good, a spendthrift.—
O no more, no more good Sir.
O. Fost.
Sirra, when saw you my son Robert▪
This morning Sir, he said he would goe visit his Vncle
O. Fost.
I pay for their meetings I'me s [...]e; that boy
Makes prize of all his fingers light on
To releeve his unthrifty Vncle.
Does he rob, introth I commend him.
O. Fost.
Tis partly your fault, Sitra you see'r, and suffer it,
Sir, mine's a servants duty, his a sonnes,
Nor know I better how to expresse my love
Vnto your selfe, than by loving your son.
O. Fost.
[Page 4]
By concealing of his pilferings.
I dare not call them so; he is my second Master,
And methink [...] tis far above my limits
Either to checke, or to complaine of him.
[...] Du [...], then mak'st a good construction,
And your son Robert a naturall Nephewes part.
To releeve his poore Vncle.
O. Fost.
[...]in neither well; Sir, for note but the
[...]tion of my estate; I'me lately marryed
To a wealthy Widow from whom my substance
Ch [...]ly does arise, she has observed this in her
[...] often complaines and grudges at it,
And what [...] broyles such civili discords bring,
[...] married men are ignorant of:
Enter Mistris Foster.
Nay will you see a present proofe of it.
M. Fost.
Shall I not live to breath a quiet houre?
I would I were a beggar with content
Rather than thus be thwarted for mine owne.
O. Fost.
Why what's the matter Woman?
M. Fost.

I'le towse 'm up, tho you regard not of my just complaints

Neither in love to me, nor preserving me from others
Injuries, both which y'are tyed to, by all the rightfull
Lawes heavenly or humane, but Ile complaine
Sir, where I will be heard.
O. Fost.
Nay, thou'It be heard too farre.
M. Fost.
Nay Sir, I will be heard; some awkeward starre
Threw out his unhappy [...]eat my conception
And twill never quench while I have heate in me:
Would I were cold, there would be bonefires made
[...] warme defa [...]e, my death would be a Iubilce to some.
O▪ Fost.

Why Sir, how should I minister remedy and know not the [...].

Mother a pearle, woman, shew your husband the cause,
M. Fost.

Had he bin a husband Sir, I had had no cause to Complaine, I threw downe at his feete

[Page 5] The subjection of his whole estate:
He did not marry me for loves sake nor for pitty,
But love to that I had, he now neglects the love
He had before; A prodigall is suffer'd to lay waste
Those worldly blessings, which I long enclosde,
Intending for good uses.
O. Fost.
That's my sonne.
M. Fost.

I, thou knowest it well enough, hee's the Condu [...] pipe that throwes it forth into the common shore.

O. Fost.
And the other's my brother.
M. Fost.
You may well shame, as I doe grieve the kindred,
But I'de make the one a stranger, the other a servant,
No son, nor brother; For they deserve neither
Of those offices.
O. Fost.
Why did I ever cherish him, have not I threat [...]
Him with disinheritance for this disorder?
M. Fost.
Why doe you not performe it?
O. Fost.
The other's in Ludgate.
M. Fost.
No; hee's in my house, approving to my face
The charitable office of his kinde Nephew,
Who with his pilfering purloind from me,
Has set him at liberty; if this may be suffer'd
Ile have no eyes to see.
O. Fost.
Prethee content thy selfe; Ile see a present
Remedy; sirra, go call 'm in; this worthy
Gentleman shall know the cause, and censure
For us both with equity.
Nay good Sir, let not me be so imployd,
Enter Robin and Stephen Foster.
For I shall favour one for pitty, the other for your loves sake,
O. Fost.
Now Sir, are all my words with you
So light esteem'd that they can
Take no hold upon your duty?
Misconster not, I beseech you.
M. Fost.
Nay, heele approve his good deeds I warrant you.
O. Fost.
And you Sir.
Well Sir.
O. Fost.
[Page 6]
I had thought you had bin in Ludgate Sir.
Why, you see where I am Sir.
O. Fost
Why, where are you Sir?
[...] [...]bt Sir, in debt.
O. Fost.
Indeed that's a place you can hardly be remou'd
From, but this is not a place fit for one in
Debt, how came you out of prison Sirra?
As I went into prison Sirra, by the keepers.
O. Fost
This was your worke to let this bandog loose.
Sir it was my duty to let my Vncle loose.
O. Fost.
Your duty did belong to me, and I did not command
You cannot make a separation Sir, betwixt
The duty that belongs to me, and love unto
[...] [...]cle, aswell you may bid me love my
Maker, and neglect the Creature, which he
Hath bid me love; if man to man joyne not
A love on earth, they love not heaven, nor
[...] that dwells above it, such is my duty
A strong Corelative unto
My Vncle why, he's halfe your selfe.
Beleeve me Sir, he has answered you well.
O. Fost.
He has not worthy Sir, but to make voyde
That false construction; here I disclayme
The title of a brother; and by that disclayme
Hast thou lost thy childes part; be thou engag'd
For any debts of his, in prison rot with him;
My goods shall not purchase such
Fruitlesse recompence.
Then th'art a scurvy father, and a filthy brother.
M. Fost.
I, I, Sir, your tongue cannot defame his reputation
But yours can, for all the City reports what
An abominable scould he has got to his wife.
O. Fost.
If ere I know thou keep'st him company,
Ile take my blessing from thee whil'st I live,
And that which after me should blesse thy estate.
And Ile proclayme thy basenesse to the world;
[Page 7] Ballads I'l make, and make 'm Taverne musick
To sing thy churlish cruelty.
O. Fost.
Tut, tut, these are bables.
Each Festivall day I'l come unto thy house,
And I will pi [...]e upon thy threshold.
O. Fost.
You must be out of prison first Sir.
If e'r I live to see thee Shreiffe of London,
I'l gild thy painted postes cum privilegio,
And kick thy Serjeants.
Nay, good Vncle.
Why, I'l beg for thee, Boy;
I'l breake this leg, and bind it up againe,
To pull out pitty from a stony brest,
Rather than thou shalt want.
O. Fost.
I, doe; let him feare up his arme, and scarfe it up
With two yards of rope; counterfeit two villaines;
Beg under a hedge and share your bounty: but come
Not neare my house, not thou in's company, if thoul't obey,
There's punishment, for thee; for thee there's worse;
The losse of all that's mine, with my deare curse.
Manent. Stephen and Robin.
Churle, Dog, you churlish rascally miser.
Nay, good Vncle, throw not foule language;
This is but heate Sir, and I doubt not but
To coole this rage with my obedience:
But Vncle, you must not then heape on such fuell.
Cuz, I grieve for thee, that thou hast undergone
Thy fathers curse, for love unto thy Vncle.
Tut, that bond shall ne'r be cancel'd, Sir.
I pitty that y'faith.
Let pitty then from me turne to your selfe:
Bethinke your selfe Sir, of some course
That might befit your estate, and let me guide it.
Ha, a course? sfoot I hate: Cuz, canst lend me
40. shillings? Could I but repaire this old decay'd Tenement
Of mine with some new playster; for alas, what
Can a man doe in such a case as this?
[Page 8]
I, but your course, Vncle.
Tush, leave that to me, because thou shalt wonder
At it: If you should see me in a scarlet gowne
Within the compasse of a gold chaine, then I
Hope you'l say, that I doe keepe my selfe in
Good compasse: then Sir, if the Cap of Maintenance
Doe march before me, and not a Cap be suffer'd
To be worne in my presence, pray doe not upbraide
Me with my former poverty: I cannot tell, state
And wealth may make a man forget himselfe;
But I beseech you doe not; there are things in my
Head that you dreame not of; dare you try me, Cuz?

Why, forty shillings, Vncle, shall not keepe backe Your fortunes.

Why, gramerey Cuz; now if the dice doe run right,
This 40. shillings may set me up agen: To lay't on my backe,
And so to pawne it, there's ne'r a damb'd Broker
In the world will give me halfe the worth on't:
No, whil'st 'tis in ready cash, that's the surest
Way; 7. is better than 11. a pox take the bones
And they will not favour a man sometimes.
Looke you Vncle, there's 40. shillings for you.
As many good Angells guard thee, as thou hast given
Me bad ones to seduce me, for these deputy divells
Dam worse than the old ones. Now Cuz, pray listen,
Listen after my transformation; I will henceforth
Turne an Apostate to prodigality; I will eate
Cheese and Onions and buy lordships, and will
Not you thinke this strange?
I am glad y'are merry, Vncle; but this is fixt
Betwixt an Vncle and a Nephewes love,
Though my estate be poore, revenewes scant,
Whil'st I have any left, you shall not want.
Why gramercy, by this hand Ile make
Thee an Alderman before I dye, doe but
Follow my steps.
[Page 9] Enter Widdow and Clowne.
Sirra, will the Churchman come I sent you for?
Yes, mistris, he will come: but pray resolve
Me one thing for my long service; What
Businesse have you with the Churchman?
Is it to make your Will, or to get you a new
Suppose to make my Will, how then?
Then I would desire you to remember me, Mistris,
I have serv'd you long, and that's the best
Service to a woman: make a good Will if you
Meane to dye, that it may not be said, Though
Most women be long liv'd, yet they all dye
With an ill-will.
So Sir, suppose it be for marriage.
Why then remember your selfe mistris;
Take heede how you give away the head;
It stands yet upon the shoulders of
Your widdowhood; the loving embracing Ivie
Has yet the upper place in the house;
If you give it to the Holly, take heede,
There's pricks in Holly; or if you feare not
The pricks, take heede of the wands, you
Cannot have the pricks without the wands;
You give away the sword, and must defend
Your selfe with the scabbard; these are pretty
Instructions of a friend; I would be loth to
See you cast downe, and not well taken up.
Well Sir, well, let not all this trouble you;
See, hee's come; Will you be gone?
Enter Doctor.
I will first give him a caveat, to use you
As kindely as he can. If you finde my mistris
Have a minde to this coupling at barly-breake,
Let her not be the last couple to be left in hell.
I would I knew your meaning, Sir.
If she have a minde to a fresh husband, or
[Page 10] So, use her as well as you can; let her enter
Into as easie bands as may be.
Sir, this is none of my traffique; I sell no husbands.
Then you doe wrong, Sir, for you take mony for 'm:
What woman can have a husband, but you must
Have custome for him? and often the ware proves
Naught too not worth the Impost.
Your mans pregnant, and merry, mistris.
Hee's sawcy Sir. Sirra, you'l be gone.
Nay, at the second hand you'l have a fee too;
You sell in the Church, and they bring 'm againe
To your Church-yarde, you must have tollage:
Me thinkes if a man dye whether you will or no,
He should be buryed whether you would or no.
Nay now you wade too far, Sir.
You'l be gone, Sirra.
Mistris make him your friend, for he knowes what rate
Good husbands are at; if there hath bin a dearth
Of women of late, you may chance picke
Out a good prize; but take heede of a Clerke.
Will you yet Sir, after your needelesse trouble,
Be gone, and bid the maides dresse dinner.
Mistris, 'tis fasting day to day, there's nothing but fish.
Let there be store of that; let bounty furnish the
Table, and charity shall be the voyder.
What fish is there, Sirra?
Marry there is Sammon, Pike, and fresh Cod,
Soles, Maides, and Playce.
Bid 'm haste to dresse 'm then.
Nay mistris, I'le helpe 'm too; the maides shall first
Dresse the Pike, and the Cod, and then I'le dresse
The maides in the place you wot on.
Exit Clowne.
You sent for me, Gentlewoman?
Sir, I did, and to this end:
I have some scruples in my conscience;
Some doubtfull problemes which I cannot answer
Nor reconcile; I'de have you make them plaine.
[Page 11]
This is my duty; pray speake your minde.
And as I speak, I must remember heaven
That gave those blessings which I must relate:
Sir, you now behold a wondrous woman;
You onely wonder at the Epithete;
I can approve it good; Ghesse at mine age.
At the halfe way 'twixt thirty and forty.
'Twas not much amisse; yet nearest to the last;
How thinke you then; Is not this a wonder,
That a woman lives full seven and thirty yeares,
Mayde to a wife, and wife unto a widdow,
Now widdowed, and mine owne, yet all this while
From the extremest verge of my remembrance,
Even from my weaning houre unto this minute,
Did never taste what was calamity;
I know not yet what griefe is, yet have sought
A hundred wayes for its acquaintance; with mee
Prosperity hath kept so close a watch,
That even those things that I have meant
A crosse, have that way turn'd a blessing;
Is it not strange?
Vnparaleld; this gift is singular,
And to you alone belonging; you are the Moone,
For there's but one, all women else are stars,
For there are none of like condition:
Full oft, and many have I heard complaine
Of discontents, thwarts, and adversities;
But a second to your selfe, I never knew
To groane under the superflux of blessings,
To have ever bin a lien unto sorrow;
No trip of fate? Sure it is wonderfull.
I, Sir, tis wonderfull; but is it well?
For it is now my chiefe affliction.
I have heard you say, that the child of heaven
Shall suffer many tribulations;
Nay, Kings and Princes share them with their subjects;
Then I that know not any chastisement
[Page 12] How may I know my part of childhood?
'Tis a good doubt; but make it not extreme,
'Tis some affliction, that you are afflicted
For want of affliction: Cherish that;
Yet wrest it not to misconstruction;
For all your blessings are free gifts from heaeven
Health, wealth, and peace; nor can they turnto
Curses, but by abuse. Pray let me question you:
You lost a husband, was it no griefe to you?
It was; but very small; no sooner I
Had given it entertainement as a sorrow,
But straite it turn'd unto my treble joy;
A comfortable revelation prompts me then,
That husband whom in life I held so deare,
Had chang'd a frailty to unchanging joyes;
Me thought I saw him stellified in heaven,
And singing Hallelujahs 'mongst a quire
Of white Sainted soules: then againe it spake,
And said; It was a sinne for me to grieve
At his best good, that I esteemed best:
And thus this slender shadow of a griefe
Vanish't againe.
All this was happy; nor can you wrest it
From a heavenly blessing. Doe not appoint
The rod: leave still the stroake unto the
Magistrate; the time is not past, but
You may feele enough.
One tast more I had, although but little,
Yet I would aggravate to make the most
On't: thus 'twas; The other day, it was my hap
[...] [...]ssing of the Thames,
To drop that wedlocke Ring from off my finger,
That once conjoyn'd me and my dead husband;
It sunke, I pris'd it deare; the dearer, 'cause it kept
Still in mine eye the memory of my losse;
Yet I griev'd the losse, and did joy withall
That I had found a griefe; and this is all
[Page 13] The sorrow I can boast of.
This is but small.
Nay sure I am of this opinion,
That had I suffer'd a draught to be made for it,
The bottome would have sent it up againe,
I am so wondrouslie fortunate.
You would not suffer it?
Enter Clowne.
Not for my whole estate.

O mistris, where are you? I thinke you are the fortunat'st Woman, that ever breath'd of two shoes: the thiefe is Found.


The thiefe; what thiefe? I never was so happy To be robb'd.

Bring him away Iug; nay, you shall see the strangest
Piece of felony discover'd that ever you saw,
Or your great grandmothers Grandam before, or after,
A pirate, a water thiefe.
What's all this?

Bring him away Iug; yet the villaine would not Confesse a word till it was found about him.

I thinke the fellow's mad.
Did you not lose your wedding Ring the other day?
Yes Sir, but I was not robb'd of it.
Enter Ioane with a fish.
No; well, thanke him that brings it
Home then; and will aske nothing for his paines.
You see this Sammon?
Yes, what of it?
It cost but six pence: but had the Fisher knowne
The worth of it, 'twould have cost you forty shillings.
Is not this your Ring?
The very same.
Your maid Ioane examining this Sammon, that shee
Bought in the Market, found that he had swallowed
This Gudgeon.
How am I vext with blessings? how thinke you
[Page 14] Sir, is not this above wonder?
I am amaz'd at it.
First that this fish should snatch it as a baite;
Then that my servant needes must buy that fish
Amongst such infinites of fish and buyers:
What fate is mine that runnes all by it selfe
In unhappy happinesse? My conscience dreads it:
Would thou hadst not swallowed it, nor thou not bought it.

Alas, blame not the poore fish, mistris, hee being a fleg, matique

Creature, tooke Gold for Restorative. He tooke it faire,
And he that gets Gold, let him eate Gold.
Nothing can hinder fate.
Seeke not to crosse it then.
About your businesse, you have not pleas'd me in this.
By my mayde nhead if I had thought you would
Have tane it no kindlier, you should ne'r
Have bin vext with sight on't; the garbidge should
Have bin the Cookes fees at this time.
Exit Ioane.
Now doe I see the old proverbe come to passe;
Give a woman lucke, and cast her into th'sea:
There's many a man would wish his wife good
Lucke, on that condition he might throw her
Away so. But mistris, there's one within would
Speake with you, that vexeth as fast against
Crosses, as you doe against good lucke.
I know her sure then, 'tis my gossip Foster:
Request her in; here's good company, tell her.
Ile tell her so for my owne credits sake.
You shall now see an absolute contrary:
Would I had chang'd bosomes with her for atime,
'T would make me better rellish happinesse.
Enter Mistris Foster and Clowne.
M. Fost.
O friend and gossip, where are you? I am
O're loaden with my griefes, and but in your bosome
I know not where to ease me.
I had rather helpe you to a close, stoole,
[Page 15] And't please you.
M. Fost.
Ne'r had woman more sinister fate;
All ominous stars were in conjunction
Even at my birth, and doe still attend me.
This is a perfect contrary indeede.
What ayles you Woman?
M. Fost.
Vnlesse seven witches had set spels about me,
I could not be so crost, never at quiet
Never happy houre, not a minutes content.
You hurt your selfe most with impatience.
M. Fost.
I, I Physitions minister with ease,
Although the patient do receive in paine;
Would I could think but of one joyfull houre.
You have had two husbands to my knowledge;
And if you had not one joyfull houre betweene
Both, I would you were hang'd i'faith.
M. Fost.
Full fourteene yeeres I liv'd a weary mayde,
Thinking no joy till I had got a husband.
That was a tedious time indeede.
M. Fost.
I had one lov'd me well, and then ere long
I grew into my longing peevishnesse.
There was some pleasure ere you came to that.
M. Fost.
Then all the kindenesse that he would apply,
Nothing could please; soone after it he died.
That could be but little griefe.
M. Fost.
Then worldly care did so o'reload my weakenesse,
That I must have a second stay; I chose againe,
And there begins my griefes to multiply.
It cannot be, friend; your husband's kinde.
A man of faire condition, well reputed.
But it may be he has not that should please her.
Peace Sirra: how can your sorrowes encrease from him?
M. Fost.
How can they but o'rewhelme me? he keepes a Son
That makes my state his prodigality;
To him a brother, one of the Citty scandals;
The tone the hand, the tother is the maw;
And betweene both my goods are swallowed up;
[Page 16] The full quantity that I brought amongst'm
Is now consum'd to halfe.
The fire of your spleene wasts it;
Good sooth Gossip, I could laugh at thee, and onely grieve
I have not some cause of sorrow with thee:
P [...]thee be temperate, and suffer.
Tis good counsell mistris, receive it so.
Canst thou devise to lay them halfe on me,
And [...]e beare'm willingly.
M. Fost.
Would I could, that I might laugh another while:
But you are wise to heede at others harmes;
You'l keepe you happy in your widdowhood.
Not I in good faith, were I sure marriage
Would make me unhappy.
M. Fost.
Try, try, you shall not neede to wish;
You'l sing another song, and beare a part
In my griefes descant, when y'are vext at heart:
Your second choyse will differ from the first:
So oft as widdowes marry they are accurst.
I, curst widdowes are; but if they had all stiffe husbands
To tame'm, they'd be quiet enough.
You'l be gone Sir, and see dinner ready.
I care not if I doe mistris, now my stomack's ready;
Yet Ile stay a little and be but to vex you.
When goe you, Sirra?
I will not goe yet.
Ha, ha, ha, thou makest me laugh at thee; prethee stay,
Nay then Ile goe to vex you.
Exit Clowne.
M. Fost.
You have a light heart Gossip.
So should you Woman, would you be ruld by me:
Come, we'l dine together, after walke abroad
Vnto my suburbe garden, where if thou'lt heare,
He read my heart to thee, and thou from thence
Shalt learne to vex thy cares with patience.

Actus Secundus.

Enter Host Boxall, Stephen, Iacke, Dicke, Hugh.
VVElcome still my merchants of bona Speranza;

What's your trafficke Bulleyes? What ware deale you in?

Cards, Dice, Bowles, or Pigeon-holes; sort'm
Your selves; either Passage, Novum, or Mumchance?
Say my brave Bursmen, what's your recreation?
Dice mine Host: Is there no other roome empty?
Not a hole unstopt in my house, but this my Thrists.
Miscall us not for our money, good mine Host, we are
None of your thrifts; we have scap'd that scandall long agoe.
Yes, his thrifts we are Iacke, though not our owne.
Tush, you are young men, 'tis too soone to thrive yet:
He that gathers young, spends when hee's old:
'Tis better to begin ill, and end well, than to
Begin well and end ill: Miserable fathers have
For the most part unthrifty sons; leave not
Too much for your heires, Boyes.
Hee sayes well i'faith; Why should a man trust
To executors.
As good trust to hangmen as to executors:
Who's in the bowling Alley mine Host?
Honest traders, thrifty lads, they are rubbing on't;
Towardly Boyes, every one strives to lye nearest the Mistris.
Give's a bayle of Dice.
Here my brave Wags.
We feare no Counters now mine Host, so
Long as we have your bayle so ready.
Come, trip.
Vp with's heeles.
[Page 18]
Downe with them.
Now the dice are mine; set me now a faire
Boord; a saire passage sweet bones. Boreas.
A noyse below in the bowling Alley, betting, rubbing and wrangling.
How now my fine Trundletayles;
My wodden Cosmographers:
My bowling Alley in an uprore?
Is Orlando up in armes? I must be stickler;
I am Constable, Iustice, and Beadle in mine
Owne house, I accuse, sentence, and punish:
Have amongst you; looke to my box Boyes;
He that breakes the peace, I breake his pate
For recompence; looke to my box, I say.

A pox o'your box, I shall ne'r be so happy to Reward it better; set me faire; aloft now.

What wast?
Two Trayes, and an Ace.
Seven still, pox on't; that number of the
Deadly sinnes haunts me damnably; Come Sir, throw.
Prethee invoke not so, all sinkes too fast already.
It will be found againe in mine hosts box.
In still, two theeves and choose thy fellow.
Take the Miller.
Have at them i'faith.
For a thiefe Ile warrant you, who'l you have next.
Two Quaters and a Tray.
I hope we shall have good cheere, when two
[...]aters, and a Tray goe toth' market.
Enter Host.
So all's whist; they play upon the still pipes now,
The Bull-beggar comes when I shew my head,
Silence is a vertue, and I have made'm vertuous,
Let'm play still till they be penny lesse; pawne
Till they be naked, so they be quiet, welcome,
And welcome.
A noyse above at Cards.
How now, how now, my roaring Tamberlaine, take
[Page 19] Heede the Soldan comes; And 'twere not for proffit,
Who would live amongst such Beares? why Vrsa
Major I say, what in Capite Draconis? is there
No hope to reclayme you, shall I never live in quiet
For you?

Good mine Host still'm: civill Gamesters cannot play for'm.

I come amongst you, you maledictious slaves; I'l
Vtter you all; some I'l take ready money for, and lay
Vp the rest in the stocks: looke to my box, I say.
Your box is like your belly mine Host, it
Drawes all; now for a suite of apparell.
At whose suit I pray? y'are out againe with the threes.
Foote, I thinke my father threw three when I was
Begotten; pox on't, I know now why I am so
Haunted with threes.
Why, I prethee?
I met the third part of a knave as I came.
The third part of a knave, s'foote what thing's that?
Why a Serjants Yeoman, man; the supervisor himselfe
Is but a whole one, and he shares but a groate in the
Shilling with him.
That's but the third part indeed: but goes he no further.
No, he rests there.
Come, let's give o're.
I thanke you Sir, and so much a looser? there's but
The wast-band of my suite left: now sweete bones.
Twelve at all.
Soft, this dye is false.
False? you doe him wrong Sir, hee's true to his Master.
I'le be hang'd then: where's Putney then I pray you
'Tis false, and I'le have my money againe.
You shall have cold Iron with your silver then.
I, have at you Sir.
Enter Host, and young Foster.
I thinke hee's here, Sir.
[Page 20] Young Foster assists his Uncle and the Host, and beat se them off; Enter the Bowlers and steale away their Cloakes.
I am sure hee's now, Sir.
Hold, hold, and you be Gentlemen hold.
Get you gone Varlets, or there's hold to be taken.

Nay sweete Sir, no bloodshed in my house; I am lord Of misrule, pray you put up, Sir.

S'foote mine Host, where are our cloakes?
Why, this is quarrelling; Make after in time:
Some of your owne Crew, to try the weight has
Lifted them; looke out I say.
There will ever be theeves in a dicing house
Till thou bee'st hang'd I'l warrant thee.
Exeunt Cheat.
Mine Host, my Cloake was lin'd through with
Oringe tawney velvet.
How, your cloake? Ine'r knew thee worth one.
Y'are a company of Conycatching rascals;
Is this a suite to walke without a Cloake in?
Vncle, is this the reformation that you promis'd mee?
Cuz, shall I tell thee the truth; I had diminish't
But six pence of the forty shillings by chance meeting with a
Friend, I went to a taylor, bargain'd for a suite, it
Came to full forty, I tender'd my xxxix and a halfe,
And doe you thinke the scabby-wristed rascall would
Trust me for six pence.
Your credit is the better, Vncle.
Pox on him, if the taylor had bin a man, I had
Had a faire suite on my backe, so venturing for
The tother Tester
You lost the whole Bed-stead.
But after this day, I protest Cuz, you shall never
See me handle those bones againe; this day I
Breake up schoole: if ever you call me unthrift after
This day, you doe me wrong.
I should be glad to wrong you so, Vncle.
And what sayes your father yet, Cuz?
[Page 21]
I'le tell you that in your eare.
Enter Mistris Foster, Widdow and Clowne.
M. Fost.
Nay, I pray you friend beare me company a little
This way, for into this dicing house I saw my good
Son in law enter, and 'tis ods but he meetes his
Vncle here.
You cannot tire me gossip in your company, 'tis the best
Affliction I have to see you impatient.
M. Fost.
I, I, you may make mirth of my sorrow.
We have hunted well, mistris; doe you not see
The hare's in sight?
M. Fost.
Did not I tell you so; I, I, there's good counsell
Betweene you, the tone would goe afoote to hell,
The other the horseway.
Mother, I am sorry you have trod this path.
M. Fost.
Mother? hang thee wretch, I bore thee not, but
Many afflictions I have borne for thee; wert thou
Mine owne, I'd see thee stretcht a handfull, and
Put thee a Cossin into the Cart, ere thou shouldst vex
Me thus.
Were I your owne, you could not use me worse than you doe.
M. Fost.
I'l make thy father turne thee out for ever, or else
I'l make him wish him in his grave; You'l witnesse
With me Gossip where I have found him.
Nay, I'l be sworne upon a booke of Callico for that.
It shal not neede, I'l not deny that I was with my Vncle.
M. Fost.
And that shall disinherit thee, if thy father
Be an honest man; thou hadst bin better to have
Bin borne a viper, and eate thy way through thy
Mothers wombe into the world, than to tempt my
Thou lyest Zantippe; it had bin better thou hadst
Bin prest to death under two Irish Rugs, than to
Ride honest Socrates thy husband thus, and abuse his
Honest childe.
M. Fost.
Out Raggamustin, dost thou talke? I shall see thee
[Page 22] In Ludgate againe shortly.

Thou lyest agen, 'twilbe at More-gate, Beldam, where I shall see thee in the Ditch dancing in a Cucking-stoole.

M. Fost.
I'l see thee hang'd first.
Thou lyest againe.
Nay Sir, you doe wrong to give a woman so many lies,
Shee had rather have had twice so many standings, than
One lye.
M. Fost.
I'l lye with him I'l warrant him.
You'l be a whore then.
Little lesse I promise you, if you lye with him.
If you complaine upon mine honest Cuz,
And that his father be offended with him,
The next time I meete thee, though it be i'th' streete,
[...] durt upon thy velvet Cap;
Nay worse, Plestaine thy Ruffe; nay worse than that,
I'l doe thus:
Holds a wispe.
M. Fost.
O my hart Gossip, do you see this? Was ever
Woman thus abus'd?
Me thinkes 'tis good sport y'faith.
M. Fost.
I, I am well recompenc'd to complaine to you,
Had you such a kindred.
I would rejoyce in't Gossip.
M. Fost.
Do so; choose herethen; Oh my hart! But I'l doe
Your e [...]and; Oh that my Nayles were not par'd! But I'l doe
Your errand; Will you goe Gossip?
No I'l stay awhile and tell 'm out with patience.
M. Fost.
I cannot hold a joynt still; Dost wispe me, thou
[...]atterdemallion; I'l doe your errands, if I have a
Husband; Oh that I could spit Wild fire!
My heart, Oh my heart! If it does not goe pantle,
Pantle, pantle in my belly, I am no honest woman:
But I'l doe your errands.
Exit Mistris Foster.
Kinde Gentlewoman, you have some patience.
I have too much Sir.

You may doe a good office, and make your selfe a Peacefull moderator betwixt me and my angry

[Page 23] Father, whom his wife hath mou'd to spleene Against me.

Sir, I doe not disallow the kindenesse your
Consanguinity renders, I would not teach
You otherwise; I'd speake with your Vncle, Sir,
If you'l give me leave.
You may talke with me Sir, in the meane time.
Exit. Robin and Clowne
With me would you talke, Gentlewoman?
Yes Sir, with you; you are a brave Vnthrift.
Not very brave neither; yet I make a shift
When you have a cleane shirt.
I'l be no Pupill to a woman; leave your discipline.
Nay, pray you heare me Sir, I cannot chide.
I'l but give you good counsell; 'tis not a good
Course that you [...]n.
Yet I must run to'th' end of it.
I would teach you a better, if you'd stay where you are.
I would stay where I am, if I had any money.
In the dyeing house?
I thinke so too, I have play'd at Passage all
This while, now I'd go to Hazard.
Dost thou want Money? Thou art worthy to be tatter'd
Hast thou no wit now thy Money's gone?
'Tis all the portion I have;
I have nothing to maintaine me but my [...]it;
My Money is too little I'm sure.
I cannot beleeve thy wit's more than thy Money,
A fellow so well limb'd, so able to doe good service,
And want.
Why Mistris, my shoulders were not made for a Froc [...]
And a Basket, nor a Coale-sacke neither, no nor
My hands to turne a trencher at a tables side.
I like that resolution well; but how comes it
Then, that thy wit leaves thy body unfurnisht?
Thou art very poore?
The fortune of the Dice you see.
[Page 24]
They are the onely wizards, I confesse,
The onely fortune-tellers; but he that goes to
Seeke his fortune from them, must never hope
To have a good destiny allotted him: yet it is
Not the course that I dislike in thee, but that
Thou canst not supply that course, and out-
Crosse them that crosse thee; Were I as thou art
You'd be as beggarly as I am.
I'l be hang'd first.
Nay, you must be well hang'd e'r you can be as I am.
So Sir, I conceite you; were I as well hang'd then
As you could imagine, I would tell some rich widow
Such a tale in her eare.
Ha? Some rich widdow? By this pennilesse pocket,
I thinke 'twere not the worst way.
I'd be asham'd to take such a fruitlesse oath:
I say, seeke me out some rich widow; promise
Her faire; shee's apt to believe a young man;
Marry her, and let her estate fly; no matter,
'Tis charity; Twenty to one some rich Miser rak'd
[...]t together; this is none of Hercules labours.
Ha? let me recount these articles: Seeke her out;
Promise her faire; Marry her; Let her estate fly:
But where should I finde her?
The easyest of all: Why man, they are more common
Than Taverne Bushes; two Fayres might be
Furnish'd every weeke in London with 'm, though no
Forrainers came in, if the Charter were granted once:
Nay, 'tis thought, if the Horse-market be remov'd, that
Smithfield shall be so imploy'd, and then I'l
Warrant you 'twill be as well furnishd with widowes as
Twas with Sowes, Cowes, and old trotting Iades before.
S'foote, if it were, I would be a Chapman; I'd see for
My pleasure, and buy for my love, for money I have none.
Thou shalt not stay the Market; if thoul't be rul'd,
I'l finde thee out a widdow, and helpe in some of
The rest too; if thou'lt but promise me the last, but
[Page 25] To let her estate fly: for shee's one I loue not, and
I'd be glad to see that revenge on her.
Spend her estate, wer't five Aldermens; I'l put you
In security for that, sfoote all my neighbours shall be bound
For me, nay, my kinde Sister in law shall passe her word
For that.
Onely this I'l enjoyne you, to be matrimonially honest
To her for your owne healthes sake: all other injuries
Shall be blessings to her.
I'l blesse her then; I ever drunke so much,
That I was never great feeder; give me drinke,
And my pleasure, and a little flesh serves my turne.
I'l shew thee the party; What sayest thou to my self?
Your selfe, Gentlewoman, I would it were no worse;
I have heard you reputed a rich widdow.
I have a lease of thousands at least, Sir.
I'l let out your leases for you, if you'l allow me
The power I'l warrant you.
That's my hope Sir; but you must be honest withall.
I'l be honest with some; if I can he honest with all,
I will too.
Give me thy hand; goe home with me, I'l give
The better clothes; and as I like thee then, we'l
Goe further, we may chance make a blinde
Bargaine of it.
I can make no blind bargaine, unlesse I be
In your bed, Widow.
No, I bar that Sir, lets begin honestly, how
E'r we end; marry for the waste of my estate
Spare it not; doe thy worst.
I'l doe bad enough, feare it not.
Come, will you walk, Sir.
No Widow, I'l stand to no hazard of blinde
Bargaines; either promise me marriage, and give
Me earnest in a handfast, or I'l not budge
A foote.
No Sir, are you growne so stout already?
[Page 26]
I'l grow stouter when I am marryed.
I hope thou'lt vex me.
I'l give you cause I'l warrant you.
I shall rayle, and curse thee I hope; yet I'd
Not have thee give over neither; for I would
Be vext; Here's my hand, I am thine, thou art mine,
I'l have thee withall faults.
You shall have one with some, and you have mee,
Enter Robin and Clowne.
Here's witnesse, come hither Sir.
Cozin, I must call you shortly; and you
Sitra, be witnesse to this match; here's Man and Wife.
I joy at mine Vncles happinesse, Widdow.
I doe forbid the Banes: Alas poore Shagragge,
My Mistris does but gull him; you may
Imagine it to be T welfe-day at night, and the
Beane found in the corner of your Cake, but
Tis not worth a fetch I'l assure you.
You'l let me dispose of my selfe, I hope.
You love to be merry Mistris; Come, come,
[...]ve him foure Farthings, and let him goe.
He'l pray for his good Dame, and be drunke;
Why, if your blood does itch that way, we'l
Stand together; how thinke you? I thinke here
[...] the sweeter bit, you see this Nap, and you
See this Lowse, you may cracke o' your choyse,
If you choose here.
You have put me to my choyse then; see, here I choose?
This is my Husband: Thus I begin the Contract.
'Tis seal'd, I am thine; now Cuz feare no blacke
Stormes; if thy father thunder, come to me for shelter.
His word is now a deede, Sir.
I thanke you both. Vncle, what my joy conceives,
I cannot utter yet.
I will make blacke Munday of this: e'r I suffer
This disgrace, the kennell shall run with blood and rags,
Sir, I am your apposite.
[Page 27]
I have nothing to say to you, Sir; I ayme at your Vncle
He has no weapon.
That's all one, I'l take him as I finde him:
I have taken him so before you, Sir; Will you be quiet.
Thou shalt take me so too Hodge, for I'l be thy fellow,
Though thy Mistrisses Husband. Give me thy hand.
I'l make you seeke your fingers among the Dogs,
If you come to me; my Fellow? You lowsie
Companion; I scorne thee. S'foote, is't come to this?
Have I stood all this while to my Mistris, an honest,
Hansome, plaine-dealing, serving-Creature; and she to
Marry a Worson Tittere Tu Tattere with never a good rag
About him? Stand thou to me, and be my friend; and since
My Mistris has forsaken me:
Enter Robin.
How now? what's the matter?
'Twas well you came in good time.
Why man?
I was goingthe wrong way.
But tell me one thing, I apprehend not; Why didst
Lay thy Cap upon the swords point?
Do'st not thou know the reason of that? why, 'twas
To save my belly: dost thou thinke I am so mad to
Cast my selfe away for e'r a woman of'm all,
I'l see 'm hang'd first.
Come Roger, will you goe?

Well, since there is no remedy, Oh teares bee you my friend!

Nay, prethee Roger doe not cry.
I cannot choose; nay I will steepe
Mine eyes in crying teares, and crying weepe.

Actus Tertius.

Enter Alderman Bruine, Sir Godfry Speedwell, Innocent Lambskin, and Mistris Iane.
GEntlemen, y'are welcome; that once well pronounc'd
Has a thousand Ecchoes; Let it suffice, I have spoke
It to the full: here's your affaires, here's your merchandize,
This is your prise, if you can mix your names and gentle
Bloods with the poore Daughter of a Cittizen.
I make the passage free, to greete and court,
Traffique the mart of love, clap hands and strike
The bargaine through, (she pleas'd) and I shall like.
God. Sp.
'Tis good ware believe me, Sir, I know that by mine
Owne experience; for I have handled the like
Many times in my first wives dayes, I, by Knighthood,
Sometimes before I was marryed too; therefore I
Know't by mine owne experience.
Well Sir, I know by observation, as much as you doe
By experience; for I have knowne many Gentlemen
Have taken up such ware as this is, but it has lyen
On their hands as long as they liv'd; this I
Have seene by observation.
I am like to have a couple of faire Chapmen:
If they were at my owne dispose, I would
Willingly rifle them both at twelve pence a share; they
Would be good foode for a new plantation; the
Tone might mend his experience; and the other his
Observation very much.
Sir, let me advise you: I see you want experience,
Meddle no further in this case, 'twilbe the
More credit for your observation; for I finde by my
Experience, you are but shallow.
[Page 29]
But shallow Sir? Your experience is a little wide;
You shall finde I wilbe as deepe in this case as
Your selfe; my observation has bin, where your
Experience must waite at doore; yet I will
Give you the fore Horse place, and I wilbe in the
Fill's, because you are the elder Tree, and I the
Young Plant; put on your experience, and I will
Sweete Virgin, to be prolix and ted ious, fits [...]
Experience; short words and large deedes are
Best pleasing to women.
So, Sir.
My name is Speedwell, by my fathers Coppy.
Then you never serv'd for't it seemes.
Yes, sweete Feminine, I have serv'd for it too:
For I have found my nativity suited to my name,
As my name is Speedwel, so have I sped
Well in divers actions.
It must needes be a faire and comely suit then.
You observe very well, sweete Virgine; for his
Nativity is his Dublet, which is the upper part
Of his suite; and his name is in's breeches, for
That part which is his name, he defiles many times.
Your observation is corrupt, Sir; Let me shew min [...]
Owne Tale; I say, sweete Beauty, my name is
Speedwell, my God-father by his bounty being an
Old Soldiour, and having serv'd in the wars as far as
Bulloyne, therefore cal'd my name Godfry; a
Title of large renowne; my wealth and wit has
Added to those, the paraphrase of Kinghthood;
So that my name in the full longitude is cal'd
Sir Godfry Speedwell, a name of good experience.
If every quality you have be as large in relation [...]s
Your name Sir, I should imagine the best of them, rather
Than heare them reported.

You say well, sweet Modesty, a good imagination is good,

[Page 30] And shewes your good experience.
Nay, if names can do any good, I beseech you observe
Mine; My name is Lambskin, a thing both hot and harmelesse.

On Sir, I would not interrupt you, because you Should be briefe.


My Godfather seeing in my face some notes of dispo­sition,

In my Cradle did give me the title of Innocent, which I
Have practis'd all my life time; and since my fathers
Decease, my wealth has purchast me in the vanguard
Of my name, the paraphrase of gentility; So that
I am cald Master Innocent Lambskin.
In good time; and what Trade was your father, Sir?
My father was of an Occupation before he was a
Tradesman; for, as I have observ'd in my fathers
And mothers report, they set up together in
Their youth; my father was a Starch-maker, and my
Mother a Laundresse; so being partners, they did
Occupy long together before they were marryed;
Then was I borne.
What, before your father was marryed?
Truly a little after, I was the first fruits, as they say;
Then did my father change his Copy, and set up
A Brewhouse.
I then came your wealth in, Sir.
Your observation's good; I have carryed the Tallyes
At my girdle seven yeares together with much
Delight and observation; for I did ever love to
Deale honestly in the Nick.
A very innocent resolution.
Your experience may see his course education; but to
The purpose, sweet Female; I doe love that
Face of yours.
Sir, if you love nothing but my face, I cannot sell it
From the rest.
You may [...] his slender observation; sweet Virgin,
I doe love your lower parts better than your face.
[Page 31]
Sir you doe interrupt, and thwart my love.
I Sir, I am your Rivall; and I will thwart your love▪
For your love licks at the face, and my love
Shall be Arsy-Versy to yours.
I would desire no better wooing of so bad suitors.
Mistake me not kinde Heart.
He cals you Tooth drawer by way of experience.
In loving your face, I love all the rest of your body
As you shall finde by experience.
Well Sir, you love me then?
Let your experience make a tryall.
No Sir, I'l beleeve you rather, and I thanke you for't.
I love you too, faire Maide, double and treble,
If it please you.
I thanke you too Sir; I am so much beholding
To you both; I am affraid I shall never requite it.
Requite one, sweete Chastity, and let it be
Sir Godfry, with the correspondencie of your
Love to him; I will maintaine you like a Lady,
And it is brave, as I know by experience.
I will maintaine you like a Gentlewoman: And
That may be better maintenance than a Ladies,
As I have found by observation.
How dare you maintaine that, Sir?
I dare maintaine it with my purse, Sir.
I dare crosse it with my sword Sir.
If you dare corsse my purse with your sword Sir,
I'llay an action of suspition of felony to you;
That's flat, Sir.
Nay, pray you Gentlemen doe not quarrell,
Till you know for what.
Oh, no quarrelling, I beseech you Gentlemen!
The reputation of my house is soyld, if any
Vncivill noyse arise in't.
Let him but shake his blade at me, and I'l
Throw downe my purse, and cry a rape; I
Scorne to kill him, but I'l hang his knighthood,
[Page 32] I warrant him, if he offer assault and battry on
My purse▪
Nay, good Sir, put up your sword.
You have confinde him prisoner forever,
I hope your experience sees hee's a harmelesse thing.
Enter George the Factor.
G [...].
Sir, heres young Master Foster requests
To speake with you.
Does he? Prethee request him. Gentlemen,
Please you taste the sweetenesse of my Garden
A while, and let my daughter beare you company.
Where she is leader, there will be followers.
You send me to the Gallyes, Sir; pray you redeeme
Me as soone as you can; these are pretty
Things for mirth, but not for serious uses.
Prethee be merry with them then a while,
If but for curtesie; thou hast wit enough;
But take heede they quarrell not.
Nay I dare take in hand to part'm without
Any danger; but I beseech you let me not
Be too long a prisoner. Will you walke Gentlemen.
If it please you to place one of us for your conduct,
Otherwise this old Coxcombe and I shall quarrell.
Sir Godfry, you are the eldest; pray lead the way.
Withall my heart, sweet Virgin; Ah, ha; this place
Promises well in the eyes of experience; Master
Innocent, come you behinde.
Right Sir; but I put the Gentlewoman before, and that
Is the thing I desire
And there your experience halts a little.
When I looke backe, Sir, I see your nose behinde.
Then when I looke backe, your nose stands here.
Sweet Lady, follow experience,
And let observation follow you.
So, now request you Master Foster in, George; but hark;
Does that newes hold his owne still, that our ships
Are so neare returne, as laden on the Downes
[Page 33] With such a wealthy fraughtage.
Yes Sir, and the next Tide purpose to put into the River:
Master Foster, your partner, hath now receiv'd more
Such intelligence, with most of the particulars
Of your merchandize, your venture is return'd
With trebble blessing.
Let him be ever blest that sent. George now call
In the young man; and hearke yee, George, from him
Run to my Partner, and request him to me, this
Newes I'm sure makes him a joyfull Merchant;
For my owne part, I'l not forget my vow,
Ex. Ge [...].
This free addition heaven hath lent my state,
As freely backe to heaven I'l dedicate.
Enter Robert Foster.
I marry Sir, would this were a third Sutor
To my daughter Iane, I should better
Like him than all that's come yet. Now master Foster,
Are your father annd your selfe yet reconcil'd?
Sir, 'twas my businesse in your courteous tongue
To put the arbitration, I have againe
(Discover'd by my mother) reliev'd my poore Vncle,
Whose anger now so great is multiplyed,
I dare not venter in the eye of either,
Till your perswasions with faire excuse
Have made my satisfaction.
Mother a pearle, Sir, 'tis a shrewd taske;
Yet I'l doe my best; your father hath so good newes,
That I hope't will be a faire motive too't;
But womens tongues are dangerous stumbling blocks
Enter George.
To lye in the way of peace. Now George.
Master Foster's comming, Sir.
I beseech you Sir, let not me see him, till you
Have confer'd with him.
Well, well, e'r your returne to Master Foster, call my
Daughter forth of the garden.
Ex. George.
And how does your Vncle, Master Foster?
[Page 34]
Sir, so well, [...]
Same that shortly will o're-spread [...] good fortunes.
Why I commend thee still,
He wants no good from thee, no not in report:
▪Tis well done Sir, and you shew duty in't.
Enter Iane.
Now daughter, Where are your Iusty Suitors?
I was glad of my release, Sir: Suitors call you'm,
[...] keepe dish water continually boyling, but I'd
Seeth such Suitors; I have had much adoe to
Keepe'm from bloodshed; I have seene for all
The world, a couple of cowardly Curs quarrell
In that fashion, as t'one turnes his head, the
Other snaps behind; and as he turnes, his
Mouth recoyles againe: but I thanke my paines
For't, I have leagu'd with'm for a weeke without
Any farther entercourse.
Well daughter, well; say a third trouble come;
Say in the person of young Master Foster here
Came a third Suitor: how then?
Three's the womans totall Arithmeticke in
Deede, I would learne to number no farther,
If there was a good account made of that.
I can instruct you so far, sweet Beauty.
Take heede, Sir; I have had ill handfell to day;
Perhaps 'tis not the fortunate season, you were
Best adjourne your journey to some happier time.
There shall no Augurisme fright my plaine
Dealing: Sweete, I feare no houres.
You'l not betray me with love-powder
Nor with Gun-powder neither ifaith; yet I'l
Make you yeeld if I can.
Goe, get you together; your father will be comming;
Leave me with your suite to him, ply this your selfe;
And Iane, use him kindly, he shall be his
Fathers heire I can tell you.
Never the more for that, Father; If I use him
[Page 35] Kindely, it shalbe forsomething I like in him.
Selfe, and not for any good he borrowes of his father,
But come Sir, [...] [...]alke into the Garden; for
That's the field I have best fortune to overcome
My Suitors in.
I feare not that fate neither, but if I walke
Into your Garden, I shall be tasting your sweetes.
Taste sweetely and welcome Sir; for there growes
Honesty, I can tell you.
I shall be plucking at your honesty.
By my honesty but you shall not Sir: I'l hold
You a hand full of Penny-royall of that y'faith,
If you touch my honesty there, I'l make you eate
Sorrill to your supper, though I eate Sullenwood my selfe:
No Sir, gather first Time and Sage, and such wholsome
Hearbes; and Honesty and Hearts-ease will ripen
The whil'st.
You have faire Roses, have you not?
Yes Sir, Roses; but no Gillyflowers.
Ex. Ambo.
Enter Master Foster and his Wife.
Goe, goe, and rest on Uenus Violets; shew he [...]
A dozin of Batchelors Butto [...] Boy; Here comes
His father. Now my kind Partner, have we
Good newes?
O. Fost.
Sir, in a word, take it; Your full lading and venture
Is return'd at sixty fold encrease.
Heaven take the glory; A wondrous blessing;
Oh keepe us strong against these flowing Tides!
Man is too weak to bound himselfe below,
When such high waves doe mount him.
O. Fost.
O Sir, care and ambition seldome meete,
Let us be thrifty; Titles will faster come,
Than we shall wish to have them.
Faith I desire none.
O. Fost.
Why Sir, if so you please, I'lease your cares;
Shall I like a full adventurer now bid you
A certaine ready sum for your halfe traffique.
[Page 36]
I, and I'd make you gainer by it too;
For then would I lay by my trouble, and begin
A worke which I have promis'd unto heaven,
A house, a Domus Dei shall be rays'd,
Which shall to Doomesday be establish'd for succour to
The poore; for in all Ages there must be such.
O. Fost.
Shall I bid your venture at a venter.
Pray you doe Sir.
O. Fost.
Twenty thousand pounds.
Nay, then you under-rate your owne value much;
Will you make it thirty?
O. Fost.
Shall I meete you halfe way?

I meete you there Sir; for five and twenty thousand [...]nds the full ventures yours.

O. Fost.

If you like my payment, 'tis the one halfe in ready Cash, the other seal'd for six Monethes.

'Tis Merchant like and faire; George, you
Observe this? Let the contents be drawne.
They shall Sir.
O. Fost.
Your hazard is now all past, Sir.
I rejoyce at it, Sir, and shall not grudge your gaines,
Though multiplyed to thousands.
O. Fost.

Beleeve me Sir, I account my selfe a large Gainer by you.

Much good may it be to you, Sir; but one
Thing at this advantage of my love to you
Let me entreate.
O. Fost.
What is it, Sir?
Faith my old fuite, to reconcile those breaches
Twist your kinde son and you; Let not the love
He shewes unto his Vncle, be any more a bar
To sunder your blessings and his duty.
O. Fost.
I would you had enjoyn'd me some great labour
Far your owne loves sake, but to that my
[...] stands fixt against; I'm deafe,
[...] of them.
[...]y, Sir, if you knew all, you would not waste your
[Page 37] Words in so vaine expence: since his last
Reformation, he has flowne out againe,
And in my sight relieved his Vncle in the
Dicing house; for which, either he shalbe no
Father to him, or no husband to me.
Well Sir, go call my Daughter forth of the
Garden, and bid her bring her Friend along
With her, troth Sir, I must not leave you thus;
I must needes make him your son againe.
O. Fost.
Sir, I have no such thing a kin to me.
Enter Robin and Iane.
Looke you Sir, know you this duty?
O. Fost.
Not I Sir: hee's a stranger to me: Save your
Knee, I have no blessing for you.
M. Fost.
Goe, goe to your Vncle Sir; you know where to
Finde him, hee's at his old haunt, he wants
More money by this time; but I thinke the
Conduite pipe is stopt from whence it ran.
O. Fost.
Did he not say, hee'd beg for you, you'd best
Make use of's bounty.
Nay, good Sir.
O. Fost.
Sir, if your daughter cast any eye of favour upon
This Vnthrift restraint, hee's a beggar: Mistris
Iane, take heede what you doe.
M. Fost.
I, I, be wise Mistris Iane; doe not you trust
To spleene and time worne to pitty, you'l
Not finde it so; therefore good Gentlewoman
Take heede.
Nay then you are too impenitrable.
O. Fost.
Sir, your money shall be ready, and your bills;
Other businesse I have none: For thee,
Beg, hang, dye like a slave;
Such blessings ever thou from me shalt have.
Ex. Foster and his wife.
Well Sir, I'l follow you; and Sir, be comforted,
I will not leave till I finde some remorse;
Meane time let not want trouble you;
[Page 38] You shall not know it.
Su, 'tis not want I feare, but want of blessing
My knee was bent for; for mine Vncles state,
Which now I dare say out-weighes my fathersfarre,
Confirmes my hopes as rich, as with my fathers,
[...] love excepted onely.
Thy Vncles state, how for heavens love.
By his late marriage to the wealthiest widow
That London had, who has not onely made him
Lord of her selfe, but of her whole estate.
Mother-a-pearle, I rejoyce in't: this newes
Is yet but young?
Fame will soone speake it loud, Sir
This may helpe happily to make all peace;
But how have you parly'd with my daughter, Sir.
Very well Father: We spake something, but did
Nothing at all; I requested him to pull me
A Catherin Peare, and had not I lookt to him
He would have mistooke and given me a Popperrin;
And to requite his kindenesse, I pluck'd him a Rose,
And he had almost prick'd my finger for my paines.
Well said Wag, are there sparkes kindled, quench
'M not for me, 'tis not a fathers roughnesse,
Nor doubtfull hazard of an Vncles kindenesse
Can me deterre; I must to your father.
Where (as a chiefe affaire) I'l once more moue,
And if I can returne him backe to love.
Enter Doctor and Stephens Wife.
Sir, you see I have made a speedy choyse,
And as swift a marriage; be it as it will,
I like the man, if his qualities afflict me,
I shall be happy in't.
I must not distate, what I have help'd to make;
[...] I that joyn'd you.
A good bargaine, I hope.
Enter Roger.
Roger, Where's your Master?
[Page 39]
The Good man of the house is within forsooth.
Not your Master, Sir.
'Tis hard of digestion: Yes, my Master is within;
Hee masters you therefore I must be
Content: You have long'd for Crosses a good
While, and now you are like to be
Farther off them than e'r you were; For
I'm affraid, your good husband will leave
You ne'r a crosse i'th' house to blesse you with.
Well Sir, I shall be blest in't: But where is he?
Where he has mistaken the place a little,
Being his wedding-day; he is in nomine,
When he should be in re.
And where's that?
In your Counting-house; If he were a kinde
Husband, he would have bin in another
Counting-house by this time: hee's tumbling
Over all his money bags yonder; you shall
Heare of him in the bowling Alley againe.
Why Sir, all is his, and at his
Dispose; who shall dare to twhart him?
Enter Stephen with bills and bonds.
Looke where he comes.
How now, Sweete-heart? what hast thou there?
I finde much debts belonging to you, Sweete;
And my care must be now to fetch them in;
Ha, ha; prethee doe not mistake thy selfe,
Nor my true purpose; I did not wed to thrall,
Or binde thy large expence, but rather to adde
A plenty to that liberty; I thought by this,
Thou would'st have stuft thy pockets full of Gold,
And throwne it at a hazard; made Ducks and Drakes,
And baited fishes with thy silver flyes;
Lost, and fetcht more: why this had bin my joy;
Perhaps at length thou would'st have wast'd
My store; why, this had bin a blessing to
Good for me.
[Page 40]
Content thee, Sweete, those daies are gone,
I, even from my memorie;
I have forgot that e'r I had such follies,
And I'l not call 'm backe: my eares are bent
To keepe your state, and give you all content.
Roger, goe, call your fellow-servants up to me,
And to my Chamber bring all bookes of debt;
I will o're-looke, and cast up all accounts,
That I may know the weight of all my cares,
And once a yeere give up my stewardship.
Now you may see what hastie matching is;
You had thought to have bin vext, and now
You cannot: You have marryed a husband,
That, Sir reverence of the title, now being my Master in law,
I doe thinke hee'l proove the miserablest, covetous
Rascall, that ever beate beggar from his gate. But
'Tis no matter; time was when you were fairely
Offered, if you would have tooke it; you might have had
Other matches y'faith, if it had pleas'd you; and those
That would have crost you; I would have sold away
All that ever you had had; have kept two or three
Whores at liverie under your nose; have turn'd you out
In your smocke, and have us'd you like a woman; where
As now, if you'd hang your selfe, you can have none of
These blessings: but 'tis well enough, now you must
Take what followes.
I'm new to seeke for crosses, the hopes I meant
Turne to despaire, and smoother in content.
Enter Robert.
O Nephew are you come: The welcom'st wish
That my heart has; This is my hinsman, Sweete.
Let him be largely texted in your love,
That all the Citty may reade it fairely;
You cannot remember me, and him forget.
We were alike to you in poverty.
I should have beg'd that bounty of your love,
Though you had scanted me to have given't him;
[Page 41] For we are one, I an Vncle Nephew,
He an Nephew Vncle, but my Sweete selfe,
My slow request you have anticipated
With proffer'd kindenesse; and I thanke you for it.
But how, kinde Cozin, does your father use you?
Is your name found againe within his bookes?
Can he reade son there?
'Tis now blotted quite: for by the violent instigation
Of my cruell Stepmother, his Vowes and Othes
Are stampt against me, ne'r to acknowledge me,
Ne'r to call, or blesse me as a childe;
But in his brow, his bounty, and behaviour
I reade it almost plainelie.
Cozin, grieve not at it; that father lost at home,
You shall finde here; and with the losse of his inheritance,
You meete another amply profferd you;
Be my adopted son, no more my kinsman;
So that this borrowed bounty doe not stray
From your consent.
Call it not borrowed, Sir, 'tis all your owne;
Here 'fore this reverent man I make it knowne,
Thou art our childe as free by adoption,
As deriv'd from us by conception, birth, and
Propinquitie; Inheritour to our full substance.
You were borne to blesse us both,
My knee shall practise a sons duty
Even beneath sons, giving you all
The comely dues of parents: yet not
Forgetting my duty to my father;
Where e'r I meet him, he shall have my knee,
Although his blessing ne'r returne to me.
Come then my dearest son, I'l now give thee
A taste of my love to thee; be thou my deputy,
The Factour and disposer of my businesse;
Keepe my accounts, and order my affaires;
They must be all your owne; for you, deere Sweet,
Be merry, take your pleasure, at home, abroad;
[Page 42] Visit your neighbours; ought that may seeme good
To your owne will, downe to the Country ride;
For cares and troubles lay them all aside,
And I will take them up, it's fit that weight
Should now lye all on me: take thou the height
Of quiet and content, let nothing grieve thee;
I brought thee nothing else, and that I'le give thee.
Ex. Stephen and Robin.
Will the Tide never turne? Was ever woman
Thus burden'd with unhappy happinesse?
Did I from Ryot take him, to waste my goods,
And he strives to augment it? I did mistake him.
Spoyle not a good Text with a false Comment;
All these are blessings, and from heaven sent;
It is your husbands good, hee's now transform'd
To a better shade, the prodigall's return'd.
Come, come, know joy, make not abundance scant;
You 'plaine of that which thousand women want.
Enter Alderman Bruine, Master Foster and Factors bearing or bags.
So, so, haste home good Lads, and returne for the rest.
Would they were cover'd, George, 'tis too Publicke
Blazon of my estate; but 'tis no matter now;
I'l bring it abroad againe e'r it belong.
Sir, I acknowledge receit of my still halfe debt,
Twelve thousand five hundred pounds; it now remaines
You seale those writings, as assurance for the rest,
And I am satisfyed for this time.
O. Fost.
Pray stay Sir, I have bethought me, let me once
Throw Dice at all, and either be a compleate
Merchant, or wracke my estate for ever:
Heare me Sir, I have of wares that are now vendible,
So much as will defray your utmost penny;
Will you accept of them, and save this charge
Of wax and parchment.
He they vendible Sir? I am your Chapman:
What are they, Master Foster?
O. Fost.
[Page 43]
Broad clothes, Karsies, Cutchineale, such
As will not stay two dayes upon your hands.
I finde your purpose; you'd have your Ware.
Houses empty for the receit of your full fraught;
I'l be your furtherer, make so your rates, that
I may be no looser.
Enter George and Richard.
O. Fost.
I have no other end, Sir; let our
Factors peruse and deale for both.
Mine is return'd; George, here's a new businesse,
You and Richard must deale for some commodities
Betwixt us, if you finde 'm even gaine or but
Little losse, take carriage presently and carry 'm home.
I shall.
O. Fost.

Richard, have you any further newes yet from our shipping?

Not yet, Sir; but by account from the last, when they
Put from Dover, this Tide should bring them into
Saint Catharins Poole; the winde has bin friendly.
O, Fost.
Listen their arrivall, and bid the Gunner speake it
In his lowd thunder all the Citty over;
Tingle the Merchants eares at the report
Of my abundant wealth; now goe with George.
I shall doe both, Sir.
Exeunt Factors.
O. Fost.

I must plainely now confesse, Master Alderman, I shall gaine much by you. The halfe of your Ship defrayes my full cost.


Beshrew me if I grudge it, being my selfe a Sufficient gainer by my venter, Sir.

Enter Mistris Foster.
M. Fost.
Still flowes the Tide of my unhappinesse,
The stars shoote mischiefe, and every houre
Is criticall to me.
O. Fost.

How now woman? wrackt in the heaven of felici­ty?

What ayl'st thou?
M. Fost.
I thinke the divel's mine enemy
O. Fost.
[Page 44]
I hope so too; his hate is better than his friendship.
M. Fost.
Your brother, your goodbrother, Sir.
O. Fost.
What of him? hee's in Ludgate againe.
M. Fost.
No, hee's in Hye-gate; he struts it bravely,
An Aldermans pace at least.
O, Fost.
Why, these are Oracles, doubtfull Enigmaes!
M. Fost.
Why, I'm sure you have heard the newes;
Hee's marryed forsooth.
O. Fost.

How, marryed? no woman of repute would choose So slightly.

M. Fost.
A woman, in whose brest, I had thought had liv'd
The very quintessence of discretion; and who is't,
Thinke you? nay you cannot ghesse, though I should give
You a day to riddle it; 'tis my Gossip, Man, the rich
Widdow of Cornehill.
O. Fost.
Fye, fye, 'tis fabulous.
M. Fost.
Are you my husband? then is shee his wife;
How will this upstart beggar shoulder up,
And take the wall of you? his new found pride
Will know no eldership.
O. Fost.
But wife, my wealth will five times double his, e'r
This Tide ebbe againe; I wonder I heare not the
Brazen Cannon proclame the Arrivall of my
Infinite substance.
M. Fost.

But beggars will be proud of little, and shoulder at the best.

O. Fost.
Let him first pay his old score, and then reckon;
But that shee:—
M. Fost.
I, that's it mads me too.
Would any woman, lesse to spite her selfe,
So much prophane the sacred name of wedlock:
A Dove to couple with a Storke, or a Lambe a Viper?
O. Fost.
Content thee; Forgive her; shee'l doe so no more;
She was a rich widdow, a wife hee'l make her poore.
So Sir, you have clos'd it well; if so ill it prove,
Leave it to proofe, and wish not misery
Enter Stephen and Robert.
[Page 45] Vnto your enemy looke, here he comes.
O. Fost.
You say true 'tis my enemy indeede.

Save you Master Alderman, I have some businesse with you.

With me, Sir, and most welcome, I rejoyce to see you.
M. Fost.
Doe you observe, Sir; he will not know you now?
Iockeye's a Gentleman now.
O. Fost.
Well fare rich widowes, when such beggars flourish;
But ill shall they fare, that florish o're such beggars.
Ha, ha, ha.
M. Fost.
He laughes at you.
O. Fost.
No wonder, woman, he would doe that in Ludgate;
But 'twas when his kind Nephew did relieve him:
I shall heare him cry there againe shortly.
Oysters, new Walfleet Oysters.
O. Fost.
The Gentleman is merry.
M. Fost.

No, no, no; he does this to spight me; as who Should say, I had bin a fish-wife in my younger dayes.

Fye, fye, Gentlemen, this is not well;
My eares are guilty to heare such discords.
Looke, Master Foster; turne your eye that way;
There's duty unregarded, while envy struts
In too much state: believe me, Gentlemen,
I know not which to chide first.
O. Fost.
What Idoll kneeles that heritique too.
Rise Boy; thou art now my son, and owest no knee
To that unnaturall; I charge you rise.
O. Fost.
Doe Sir, or turne your adoration that way;
You were kind to him in his tarter'd state;
Let him requite it now.
M. Fost.
Doe, doe, we have pai'd for't aforehand,

I would I were devided in two halfes, so that Might reconcile your harsh devision

Proud Sir, this son which you have alienated
For my loves sake, shall by my loves bounty
Ride side by fide in the best Equipage
Your scornes dare patterne him.
O. Fost.
[Page 46]
I, I, a beggars gallop up and downe.
M. Fost.
I, 'tis up now, the next step downe.

Ha, ha, I laugh at your envy Sir, my businesse [...]s to you.

Good Sir, speake of any thing but this.
Sir, I am furnishing some shipping forth,
And want some English traffique, Broad-clothes, Karsics
Or such like, my voyage is to the Straites:
If you can supply me, Sir, I'l be your Chapman.
That I shall soone resolve you, Sir;
Enter Factors.
Come hither George.
O. Fost.
This is the rich Merchant-man;
M. Fost.
That's neither grave not wife;
O. Fost.
Who will kill a man at Tiburne shortly.
M. Fost.
By Carts that may arise; Or if the hangman dye,
He may have his office.
Then you have bargain'd, George.
And the Warecarryed home, Sir; you must looke
To be little gainer; but lose you cannot.
'Tis all I desire from thence, Sir I can furnish you
With Wares I lately from your brother bought;
Please you goe see them, for I would faine divide you,
Since I can win no nearer friendship.
I'l goe with you, Sir.
Exeunt Alderman, Stephen and George.
O. Fost.
Take your adoption with you, Sir.
I crave but your blessing with me, Sir.
O. Fost.
'Tis my curse then; get thee out of mine eye.
Th'art a bcame in't, and I'le teare it out e'r it
Offend to looke on thee.
M. Fost.
Goe, goe, Sir; follow your Vncle-father,
Helpe him to spend, what thrift has got together;
'Twilbe charity in you to spend,
Because your charity it was to lend.
My charity; you can a vertue name.
And teach the use, yet never knew the same
[Page 47] Enter Richard.
O. Fost.
See wife, here comes Richard.
Now listen, and heare me crown'd
The wealthiest London Merchant.
Why dost thou looke so sadly?
M. Fost.
Why dost not speake; hast lost thy tongue?
I never could speake worse.
O. Fost.
Why, thy voyce is good enough.
But the worst accent Sir, that ever you heard,
I speake a [...] Screechowles note. Oh you have made
The most unhappiest bargaine that ever Merchant did!
O. Fost.
Ha? what can so balefull be, as thou would'st [...]
To make by this sad prologue? I am no traytor
To consiscate my goods: speake, what e'r it be.
I would you could conceite it, that I might not speake it.
O. Fost.
Dally not with torments, sinke me at once.
Now y'ave spoke it halfe; 'tis sinking I must treate of
Your ships are all sinke.
O. Fost.
M. Fost.

O thou fatall Raven; Let me pull thine eyes out for this

Sad croake.
O. Fost.
Hold woman; hold prethee; 'tis none of his fauk.
M. Fost.
No, no, 'tis thine, thou wretch; and therefore
Let me turne my vengeance all on thee; thou
Hast made hot haste to empty all my Ware-houses,
And made roome for that the sea hath drunk before
O. Fost.
Vndone for ever! Where could this mischiefe fail▪
Were not my ships in their full pride at Dover;
And what English Carybda's has the divell dig'd
To swallow nearer home.
Even in the Mouth, and entrance of the Thames
They were all cast away.
O. Fost.
Dam up thy Mouth from any farther
Mischievous relation.
Some men were sav'd, but not one penny-worth of goods.
O. Fost.
[Page 48]
Even now thy balefull utterance was chok'd,
And now it runs too fast; thou fatall Bird no more.
M. Fost.
May Serpents breed, and fill this fatall Streame,
And poyson her for ever.
O. Fost.
O curse not, they come too fast!
M. Fost.
Let me curse somewhere, Wretch, or else I'l throw
That all on thee; 'tis thou, ungodly Slave,
That art the marke unto the wrath of Heaven:
I thriv'd e'r I knew thee.
O. Fost.
I prethee split me too.
M. Fost.
I would I could; I would I had never seene thee;
For I ne'r saw houre of comfort since I knew thee.
O. Fost.
Vndone for ever, my credit I have crackt,
To buy a Venture, which the Sea has sok'd;
What worse can woe report.
M. Fost.
Yes worse than all,
Thy enemies will laugh, and scorne thy fall.
O. Fost.
Be it the worst then; that place I did assigne
My unthrifty brother, Ludgate, must now be mine.
Breake, and take Ludgate.
M. Fost.
Take Newgate rather.
O. Fost.
I scorn'd my child, now he may scorne his father.
M. Fost.
Scorne him still.
O. Fost.
I will; would he my wants relieve,
[...] scorne to take what he would yeeld to give:
My heart be still my friend, although no other;
[...] scorn the helpe of either son, or brother,
My portion's begging now; seldome before.
In one sad houre, was man so rich and poore.

Actus Quartus.

Enter Mistris Iane, Godfry Speedewell, and Master Lambskin.
GEntlemen, my Father's not within; please
You to walke a turne or two in the garden,
Hee'l not be long.

Your father, Mistris Iane, I hope you have observa [...] in you,

And know our humours; we come not a wooing to your Father.

Experience must beare with folly; Thou art all inno­cent,

And thy name is Lambskin; grave Sapience guides me,
And I care not a pin for thy squibs, and thy Crackers,
My old dry wood shall make a lusty bonefire, when
Thy greene Chips shall lye hissing in the Chimney-
Corner. Remember Mistris, I can make you a Lady by
Mine owne experience.
Prethee doe not stand troubling the Gentlewoman
With thy musty sentences, but let her love be laid
Downe betwixt us like a paire of Cudgells, and into
Whose hands she thrusts the weapons first, let him
Take up the Bucklers.
A match betweene us
Must I be stickler then?
We are both to run at the Ring of your setting
Vp, and you must tell us who deserves most favour.
But will you stand both at my disposing?
Else let me never stand but in a Pillory.
You love me both you say?
By this hand.—
Hand? Zoundes by the foure and twenty Elements.
[Page 50]
Pray spare your oathes; I doe believe you doe
You would not else make all this stir to wooe.
Sir Godfry, you are a knight both tough and old,
A rotten building cannot long time hold.
Speedewell, livewell, dye well, and be hang'd well.
[...] your coppy well, your experience will not carry it else.
Y'are rich too, at least your selfe so say;
What though? y'are but a gilded man of clay.
A man of Ginger-bread; y'faith I could finde in
My heart to eate him.
Should I wed you, the fire with frost must marry
Ianuary and May; I for a younger tarry.
That's l; introth I'le be thy young Lambskin; thoushalt
Finde me as innocent as a sucking Dove: speake, Sweete
[...], am I the youth in a basket?
You are the sweete youth Sir, whose pretty eyes
Would make me love; but you must first be wise.
Ah, hah, is your coxcombe cut? I see experience must
Boord this faire Pinnace: a word in private,
I'l have no words in private, unlesse I heare too.
Enter Master Bruine, Stephen and Robin.
Come Gentlemen, we'l make few
Winds about it; Merchants in
Bargaining must not, like Souldiors lying at a siege, stay
Moneths, weekes, daies, but strike at the first parley.
Broad-clothes, and Woolls, and other rich Commodities, I
Lately from your brother bought, are all your owne.
'Tis well.
Then be not angry gentle Sir,
If now a string be touch'd, which hath too long
Sounded so harshly over all the Citty;
I now would winde it to a musicall height.
Good Master Alderman I thinke that string will still
Ostend mine eare; You meane the jarring
Twixt me and my brother?
In troth the same.
I hate no poyson like that brothers name
O Fye, not so.
[Page 51]
Vncivill churle, when all his sailes were up.
And that his proud heart danc'd on golden wayes:
As heaven be thank'd it still does.
Yet Sir, then I being sunke, and drown'd in [...]
Owne misery, he would not cast out a poore line
Of thred to bring me to the shore; I had bin
Dead, and might have starv'd for him.
A better fate Sir, stood at your elbow.
True Sir; this was he that lifted me from want
And misery, whose cruell father for that
Good cast him away; scorning his name and blood;
Lopt from his side this branch that held me deere.
For which hee's now my son, my joy, my heire,
But for his father hang him.
Fye, fye.
By heaven.
Come, come, live in more charity, he is your brother;
If that name offend, I'l sing that tune no more.
Yonder's my daughter busie with her suitors;
Wee'l visit them. Now Iane, bid your friends
They must be welcome Sir, that come with you;
To thee ten thousand welcomes still are due.
My sweete Mistris.
Kisse him.
Lounds Sir knight, we have stood beating the Bush
And the bird's flowne away; this Citty
Bowler has kist the Mistris at first cast.
How fare yee Gentlemen, what cheere Sir knight?
An adventurer still Sir, to this new found land.
He sayles about the point Sir, but he cannot put in yet.
The winde may turne Sir. A word Master Foster.
You see Sir Speedwell, what Card is turn'd
Vp for trumpe; I hold my life this spruce
Cittizen will forestall the market, Oh
These briske factors, are notable firkers.
I doubt Sir, he will play the merchant with us.
They both are suitors Sir, yet both shoote wide;
[Page 52] My daughter sure must be your kinsmans bride.
I'l give her a wedding Ring on that condition
And put a Stone in't worth a thousand pounde, Sir.
You have my hand and heart too't, be she pleas'd so.

S'foote, let's shew our selves Gallants, or Gallymaw. [...]yes:

Shall [...] [...]y'd by a Cockney. A word
My [...]; Doe you see Sir, here be those
That have gon a fishing, and can give you a
You were best goe fish for better manners, or I
[...] for [...]les with you.
Zoundes are you a striker? Draw, Sir knight.
Not in my house; I pray be quiet Gentlemen.
He dares not doe't abroad believe me, Sir.
Now by my life my Boy, for this brave spirit
[...]g thee in mine armes: lose life and limbes
[...] thou forsake thy love.
Hee's no Rivall here Sir; has struck me,
And we are Gentlemen.
And heare yee, Sir, let him seeke out his equalls;
For some of us are in danger to make her
A Lady shortly: I know what I speake; what
I speake, I'l doe; yet I'l doe nothing, but
What comes from grave experience.
Speake what you please Sir, hee's a Gentleman as
Good at either of you both, and shall in lists of
Love for such a bed-fellow, brave him that dares,
And here lay downe more gold to win her love,
Than both your states are worth.
Ha? doe you know us, Sir? You grow too bold;
My experience now hath found you;
You were once a tatter'd fellow, your name is
Foster; have you such gold to give?
Yes, yes, has won it betting at the bowling Alleyes,
O [...] at the Pigeon-holes in the Garden Alleyes.
You are [...]uddy Groomes to upbraid mee with that scorne,
[Page 53] Which vertue now gilds over; Pray yee Gentlemen
May I request your names.
Our names are in the Heralds bookes I warrant you
My name is Innocent Lambskin; and this Knight,
Simply though he stands here, is knowne to be
Sir Godfry Speedewell.
Well may he Speede Sir; Lambskin and Speedewell,
Ha? Is't so? I thinke I shall give you a medicine
To purge this itch of love, Sir.
No itch neither Sir, we have no scabs here,
But your selfe and your Cozin.
Very good Sir, my little Lambskin. I have you
Here in Sheepeskin; looke you, 'tis so y'faith.
See, Master Alderman, these two crackt Gallants
Are in severall bonds to my Predecessor
For a debt of full two thousand apiece.
Cozin, fetch me a Serjeant straite.
Yes Sir.
O let him, I have a protection, Sir.
I'l try that, Sir.
A Serjeant? Nay, then experience must worke,
Legs be strong and bold; when Serjeants waite
At feasts, the cheere's but cold.
I'l shift for one.
Knight, knight; S'foote if an errand Knight
Run away, I were an arrand Asse to tarry,
And be catch'd in the lime-bush: I love the
Wench well; but if they have no hole to
Place me in, but the hole in the Counter,
I'l be goue and leave'm; that's flat
You have scar'd the suitors from the marke, Sir.
I am glad on't Sir; they are but such as seeke
To build their rotten state on you, and with your
Wealth to underprop their weakenesse;
Believe me, reverend Sir, I had much rather
You'd venter that my Cuz might call you father.
Enter Stephens Wife.
[Page 54]
We'l talke of that anon; See Sir,
Here comes your wife, the theame
Ent. Stepen's Wife.
Of all her [...]e, with goodnesse mixt, the happy
Woman that was never vext; y'are welcome
M [...]s Foller.
I thanke yee Sir.
Wife, your two debtors were here but now;
S. Speedwell
And Lambskin; A Wolfe could not have torne
[...] Lambskin worse, than the bare name
[...] Serjeant: the very thought made them both
[...] take their heeles and run away.
'Las, they are poore and leane, and being so;
[...] them not till they are fatter.
At thy girdle, Sweete, hangs the keyes, to
[...] the prison dores or let them loose:
[...] my intent onely in way of mirth to
[...] them from the presence of Mistris Iane,
That our adopted son might have no bar
Vnto his love.
The match is faire; and were that knot once tyed,
[...] send some Augels to attend the bride.
Enter George.
Sir, here's your factor.
Are the wares ready.
Yes, and deliver'd Sir, to Master Foster's servants,
Who conveyed them in Carts to the Custome.
House, there to be shipt; but going with them,
Sir, I met ill newes.
Ill newes? what ist?
Old Master Foster's ships so richly laden,
By strange misfortune, Sir, are cast away.
Now heaven forbid!
Oh mee!
How? cast away; where?
'Tis impossible; they rid at Dover safe,
When he out-bought my full share in the fraught,
And paid me downe neare thirty thousand pounds
[Page 55] In wares and money.
Which had he not done, you had lost your venture:
By Master Foster's owne appointment Sir, they weighed
Their Anchors up, and so to come for London;
But by a mercilesse storme they all were
Swallowed, even in the Theames mouth; yet
The men were sav'd, but all the goods were lost.
O my poore father! This losse will breake his backe.
Ha? What's that to you? if in my favour you'l
Sit warme, then bury all love to him,
Nay duty, heare you Sir? What shed'st thou teares
For him, that had no care to see thy heart drop
Blood? he was unnaturall, and heaven hath
Iustly now rewarded him.
'Tis a most strange Fate; he needes would buy my
Part at any rate, he car'd not what; and now all's lost,
Greedy desire he swallowed, and now is swallowed:
'Tis but his hyre; and I'l not pitty it, no more
Than he, in his abundance, did my misery.
I grieve for my poore Gossip, his good wife,
She never met good fortune all her life,
And this will breake her heart-strings:
In good sooth I'l goe and comfort her.
In good sooth you shall not,
Nor him, nor her at this time, gentle wife;
He scorn'd me in his height, now being poore,
If that he needes my helpe, he knowes my doore.
Sir, we'l for this time leave you, at fitter leasure,
We'l have this marriage talk't of.
At your owne good pleasure.
Come wife; Goe not to see your father, Sir, I charge you.
Iane, bring your friends toth'dore.
I'l helpe my father, though my selfe grow poore.
Where's my Factor?
Here Sir.
What, are the square stones, and timber
Brought as I appointed?
[Page 56]
Yes, Sir, and the workemen, that daily ply the
Worke, are in number fourescore at least.
My vowes flew up to heaven, that I would make
Some pious worke in the brasse booke of Fame,
That might till Doo [...]esday lengthen out my name.
Neare Norton Folga [...]e therefore have I bought
Ground to erect this house, which I will call
And dedicate, Sa [...]t Marie's Hospitall;
And when 'tis finish'd, o'r the gates shall stand
In capitall letters, these words fairely graven
For I have given the worke and house to heaven
And cal'd it, Domus Dei, Gods house;
For in my zealous faith I know full well,
Where good deedes are, there heaven it selfe doth dwell.
Enter Old Foster, Richard his factor, and the Keeper of Ludgate
Good Sir, resolve not thus; returne againe,
Your debts are not so great, that you should yeeld
Your body thus to prison unconstrain'd.
O. Fost.
I will not trust the iron hearts of men;
My credit's lost, my wealth the Sea has swallowed,
Wrack'd at my dore, even in the mouth o'th'Thames.
Oh my misfortune! never man like me
Was so throwne downe, and cast to misery.
Deare Sir, be patient.
O. Fost.
I prethee get thee gone, and with thy diligence
Assist thy Mistris to keepe that little left, to
Helpe her selfe, whil'st here in Ludgate I secure
My body from Writs, Arrests, and Executions,
Which, well I know, my cruell Creditors will
Thunder on me. Goe, get thee gone; if what
Is left they'l take, doe thou agree;
If not, I am here resolv'd to stay and dye.
I'l doe my best Sir, to procure your peace.
O. Fost.
Do so, Come Sir, I yeeld my selfe your prisoner,
You are the Keeper of this Ludgate.
Yes Sir, your name is registred among the prisoners.
O. Fost.
So, I have seene the faire outside of this tombe before;
[Page 57] This goodly apple has a rotten core.
As all prisons have, Sir.
O. Fost.
I prethee bar me of no priviledge due to a free
Citizen; Thou knowest me well?
Yes Master Foster, and I sorrow for your losses,
Yet doubt not but your son and brother.
O. Fost.
O speake not of them! doe not kisse and kill me:
I have no son nor brother that esteemes me,
And I for ever hate their memory:
Prethee no more; I am come sicke into a
Bad Inne, and looke for worse attendance,
I have taken a surfeit of misfortunes, and here
Must swallow pills
With poyson to recure me: I am sea-sicke, Sir,
And heave my hands to heaven; ne'r to so
Low an ebbe was Foster driven.
There be some Fees to pay, Sir, at your comming in.
O. Fost.
So, so, if this old Wall-nut-tree, after all this
Cudgelling, have but one cluster left, thou shalt
Have that too; if not, take off these leaves that
Cover me; pull off these white locks; rend them from
My head, and let me in my woes be buried.
'Las, Sir, this house is poore.
O. Fost.
I thinke no lesse;
For rich men seldome meete with such distresse,
Well, well, what booke must I reade over now?
What servile Oare must I be tyed to here,
Slave-like to tug within this christian Galley?
Sir, being the youngest prisoner in the house,
You must beg at the iron grate above,
As others doe for your reliefe and their's.
O. Fost.
For a beggar to beg, Sir, is no shame;
And for the iron grate, it beares an embleme
O firon-hearted Creditors, that force men lye
In loathsome prisons thus to starve and die.
Enter Robert and kneeles.
Who would you speake with, Sir?
[Page 58] Oh, cry you mercy; 'tis his sonne:
I'l leave them.
O. Fost.
O torment to my soule! What mak'st thou here?
Cannot the picture of my misery
Be drawn [...], and hung out to the eyes of men,
But thou must come to scorne and laugh at it?
Deare Sir, I come to thrust my backe under your loade,
[...] make the bu [...]den lighter.
O. Fost.
Hence from my sight, dissembling villaine; goe,
Thine Vncle sends defiance to my woe,
And thou must bring it: Hence, thou Basyliske,
That kil'st me with mine eyes: nay, never kneele;
These scornefull mocks more than my woes I feele.
Alas, I mocke yee not; but come in love,
And naturall duty Sir, to beg your blessing;
And for mine Vncle—
O. Fost.
Him, and thee I curse,
Pl starve, e'r I eate bread from his purse,
Or from thy hand; Out villaine, tell that Cur,
Thy barking Vncle, that I lye not here
Vpon my bed of ryot, as he did,
Coverd with all the villanies, which man
Had ever woven; tell him I lye not so,
It was the hand of heaven strucke me thus low,
And I doe thanke it. Get thee gone, I say,
Or I shall curse thee, strike thee; Prethee away;
Or if thou'lt laugh thy fill at my poore state,
Then stay, and listen to the prison grate,
And heare thy father, an old wretched man,
That yesterday had thousands, beg and cry,
To get a penny: Oh my misery!
Deere Sir, for pitty heare me.
O. Fost.
Vpon my curse I chargeno nearer come,
I'l be no father to so vild a Son.
O my abortive fate!
Why for my good am I thus pay'd with hate?
From this sad place of Ludate here I freed
[Page 59] An Vncle, and I lost a father for it;
Now is my father here, whom if I succour,
I then must lose my Vncle's love and favour.
My Father once being rich, and Vncle poore,
I him relieving was thrust forth of dores;
Baffled, revil'd, and disinherited:
Now mine owne Father here must beg for bread,
Mine Vncle being rich, and yet if I
Feede him, my selfe must beg. Oh misery,
How bitter is thy taste! yet I will drinke
Thy strongest poyson; fret what mischiefe can,
I'l feede my Father, though, like the Pellican,
I pecke mine owne brest for him.
Old Foster, and above at the grate, a box hanging downe.
O. Fost.
Bread, bread, one penny to buy a
Loafe of bread for the tender mercy!
O me my shame! I know that voyce full well;
I'l help thy wants, although thou curse me still.
O. Fost.
Bread, bread; some Christian man send back
Your charity to an number of poore prisoners;
One penny for the tender mercy.
Robin puts in money.
The hand of heaven reward you, gentle Sir,
Never may you want, never feele misery;
Let blessings in unnumbred measure grow,
And fall upon your head where e'r you goe.
O happy comfort! curses to the ground
First strucke me, now with blessings I am crown'd.
O. Fost.
Bread, bread, for the tender mercy; one
Penny for a loafe of bread.
Pl buy more blessings; Take thou all my store,
I'l keepe no coyne; and see my father poore.
O. Fost,
Good Angels guard you, Sir, my prayers shalbe
That heaven may blesse you for this charity.
If he knew me, sure he would not say so;
Yet I have comfort if by any meanes
I get a blessing from my fathers hands:
How cheape are good prayers? A poore penny buyes
[Page 60] That, by which man up in a minute flies,
And mounts to heaven.
Enter Stephen.
Oh me, mine Vncle sees me!
Now Sir, what make you here so neere the prison?
I was going, Sir, to buy meate for a poore bird I have,
That sits so sadly in the Cage of late,
I thinke he'l dye for sorrow.
So Sir, your pitty will not quit you paines, I feare me;
I shall finde that bird I thinke to be that churlish
Wretch, your father, that now has taken
Shelter here in Ludgate; Goe too, Sir, urge me
Not, you'd best; I have given you warning:
Fawne not on him nor come not neare him,
If you'l have my love.
Las Sir, that Lambe
Were most unnaturall that should hate the Dam.
Lambe me no Lambs, Sir.
Good Vncle; 'las you know when you lay here.
I succour'd you, so let me now helpe him.
Yes, as he did me,
To laugh and triumph at my misery;
You freed me with his gold, but 'gainst his will:
For him I might have rotted, and laine still;
So shall he now.
Alack the day!
If him thou pitty, 'tis thine owne decay:
O. Fost.
Bread, bread, some charitable man remember
The poore prisoners; bread for the render mercy,
One penny.
O listen Vncle; that's my poore father's voyce.
There let him howle; Get you gon, and come not neare him
O my soule! what tortours dost thou feele?
[...]rth neare shall find, a son so true,
[...] forc'd to be unkind.
Well, go thy waies, thou patterne of true vertue;
My [...] full, I could even weepe, and much adoe I had to for­beare,
[Page 61] To heare a brother begging in a Iayle,
That but e'r while spred up a lofty sayle
As proudly as the best: Oh, 'twerea sin
Vnpardonable in me, should I not succour him?
Yes, I will doe't, yet closely it shalbe done,
And he not know from whence his comforts come.
What ho, Keeper there, a word I praye.
Enter Keeper.
What's your pleasure, Sir.
What's he that at the grate there beg'd even now.
One Master Foster, Sir, a decayed Citizen new
Come in. Cry you mercy Sir, you know him
Better than my selfe, I thinke.
I should doe, knew he me as I would know
Him: prethee take him from the grate,
And that no more he stand to beg,
There's ten pound to pay his score, and
Take off all his wants; if he demand
Who sends it, tell him, 'tis thine owne free
Hand to lend him money.
Well Sir, I shall.
Spend what he will, my purse shall pay it all;
And at his parting hence, the poorest prisoner,
And all free Citizens that live in Ludgate,
Shall blesse his comming in; I'l for his sake
Doe something now, that whil'st this Citty stands,
Shall keepe the Foster's name engraven so high,
As no blacke storme shall cloud their memory.
Heaven blesse your purpose, Sir.
Enter Stephens Wife, and her sister Old Fosters Wife.
Sister, there's no way to make sorrow light
But in the noble bearing; be content;
Blowes given from heaven are our due punishment;
All ship wracks are no drownings, you see buildings
Made fairer from their Ruines; he that I married,
The brother to your husband, lay, you know,
[Page 62] On the same bed of misery, yet now
Hee's ranckt with the best Citizens.
M. Fost.
O you were borne to wealth and
Happinesse; I, to want and scorne!
Come, I will worke my husband; stay this griefe.
The longest sorrow findes at last reliefe.
Enter Clowne.
Now Sir, your businesse.
Marry mistris here are two creatures
S [...]e able to make one man, desires to speake
With you.
What are they, know their names.
Nay, I know that already; the one is a
Thing that was pluc'd into the
World, by the head and shoulders to be
Wondered at, and 'tis cald a knight; the other
Is a coach-horse of the same over-ridden race;
And that's a foolish Gentleman.
O, they are my old debtors, Speedwell and Lambskin
Goe call them in, and my gentle sister
Comfort your selfe and my imprison'd brother,
To whom commend me give to him this gold,
What good I can, I'l doe for him be bold.
M. Fost.
May heavenly blessings guard you from all ill:
Never was woman vext as I am still.
Enter Speedewell and Lambskin.
Now good Sir Godfry and Master Innocent.
I put my innocent case into your hands
Mistris, as a simple country Clyent thrusts his money
Into a Lawyers, who stands upon no great
[...]rmes to take it.

We come about the old businesse, the sicknesse of the purse Lady

And they'd be loth to keepe their beds i'th'counter
Mistris; they are affraid of Serjeants, Master Lambskin,
Knowes that Mace is a binder.
No truly it makes me loose for I never smell it, though
[Page] It be two streetes off, but it gives me a stoole presently,
I, you have bin a loose liver alwayes,
'Tis time to looke to you.
Fayre Lady, we are your debtors, and owe you mony.
Experience tels us that our bonds are forfeit,
For which your husband threatned to arrest us; my
Shoulders love no such clappings, I love
Tobacco, but would be loth to drinke in Woodstreet.
Pipes; some money we will pay ere we goe hence:
I speake you see with grave experience.
I know it well, Sir.
Had not your husband (when we went about fowling
For the Aldermans daughter) driven away the Bird
We might have bidden you to a better breakefast;
But now you must take what we can set before you.
Ent. Robert.
I am content to doe so: you shall finde
Nor me nor my husband carry a griping minde.
Now Cuz, where's your Vncle.
He's hard at hand, I saw him comming
With the Lord Maior and Aldermen.
Zoundes Knight, if the Maior come
The shoulder clappers are not farre off.
O feare not, I'l be your surety Sir.
Doe you not smell Poultry ware, Sir Godfry?
Most horribly, I'l not endure the sent on't.
Vpon my trust none here shall doe you wrong;
What is his businesse with the Alderman?
About the entertainment of the King
That meanes to visit London.
Saw you your sad father?
I did; would I might never see man more
Since he so hates my sight; the prison doore,
Which gapes for commers in, that mouth of hell,
Shut me out with a churlish cold farewell;
After my fathers most unnaturall part
Was plaid on miseries stage, mine Vncle comes
[Page 64] In thunder on me, threatning with blacke stormes
To nayle me to the earth, if I releeved my
Poore old father.
Ent. Stephen.
Here's my master now Gentlemen.
O Gentlemen, y'are both welcome,
Have you paid this money on your bonds yet?
Not yet Sir, but here they come like honest Gentlemen
To take some order for it: good Sweetheart
Shall it be put to me.
Doe as you please;
In all thy deeds th'rt govern'd with good starres,
Therefore if thou cry'st peace, I'le not raise warres.
E'ne order it how thou wilt.
I thanke ye Sir; then tell me Gentlemen,
What present money can you pay?
Two hundred pound we can lay downe.
And take up seven times as much if we knew
Where to get it; but there's our lamentable ease:
Mistris, if you strip us any neerer, you'l strip the
Skin and all I'le assure you,
We'l sheare no sheepe so close.
No sheepe forsooth, but a poore innocent Lambskin.
You should be a Calfe by your white face.
All your two thousand pound Gentlemen we quit,
For your two hundred: goe pay the money to
My Cuz, and receive your two bonds canceld:
Say Sir, are ye content.
Wife I must stand to the arbitrement.
Goe Cozin, receive their
Money, and Sirra make them drinke.
I'le make them drinke if they will; come
Gallants empty your bags, and I'l bumbast
Your bellies; this leane Gentleman lookes
As if he had no lining in' [...] guts, I could
Take him by the leg and hurle him into
The dog-house.
[Page 65]
How now sweet wife, what art thou
Musing on?
I must come a wooing to you Sir.
A wooing sweet, for what?
For your brother; Oh 'tis unmeet
For soules fram'd by one square to grow uneven,
'Tis like a warre 'mongst the great lights of heaven,
One cannot lose his beauty, but the other
Suffers ecclipse; so brother against brother.
Wouldst have me kisse him that would kill me.
Would you kill a man lying at your feet:
Doe good for ill.
Thy songs are Angels tunes, and on thy wings
I'l flye with thee to heaven.
Thou speakest as I would have thee;
His debts I have justly weighed, and finde them light.
The easier then tane off.
Thou sayest most right,
But I of purpose keepe aloofe to try
My kinsman; whom I spied most dolefully
Hovering about the grate, where his father cry'd
With pitteous voyce, for bread; yet did I chide
And rayl'd against the Boy; but my heart sayes
(How ere my tongue) it was drown'd in teares,
To see such goodnesse in a sonne.
Such wheeles in childrens bosome seldome runne.
I'l lay a wager wife, that this two hundred pounde
Payd by these foolish fellowes, will by the Boy
Be given his father.
Troth would it might:
In doing me such wrong he does me right
Ludgate was once my dwelling, and to shew
That I true feeling of his misery knew;
Albeit long since blowne o're; so thou'lt consent,
Within that place I'l raise some monument,
Shall keepe our names alive till doomes-day.
I gladly shall agree.
[Page 66] To any act that tends to charity.
Enter Mr. Bruine.
Come, where's Mr. Foster? Oh you lose time Sir,
Not meeting fortune that comes to kisse you.
The Lord Maior and Aldermen stay at the Guildhall,
Expecting you, as well to set downe order
Touching the entertainement of the King,
As to elect you for the following yeere a Sheriffe of London.
Their loves out-strip my merit.
Yet since they lay that load on me, I'l beare it,
And wait in scarlet on my leige and King.
But pray resolve me, Master Alderman,
Why makes the King this visitation?
Troth Sir, to honour me, I thanke his highnesse,
Who with my Lord the Cardinall comes along
To see the dedication of my House,
Built for the weary travellers to rest in;
Where stands three hundred beds for their releefe,
With meat, drinke, and some money when they part,
Which I'l give freely with a willing heart.
A pious, worthy, and religious act:
Come Sir, toth' Guildhall; Wife, looke to your
Kinsman, watch him neare; but doe not hinder
Hi [...] if he releeve his father: Come Master Alderman,
With such sweet incense up your offerings flye,
I'l build one Altar more to charity.

Actus Quintus.

Enter Old Foster, his Wife, and Keeper.
COme, come, be merry Sir; doe as mourners doe at
Funerals, weare your Hat in your eyes, and
[Page 67] Laugh in your heart.
O. Fost.
I have no such fat legacie left me,
To teach me how to play the hypocrite.
No? Why looke yee Sir, you shall want neither
Meate, drinke, money, nor any thing that the
House affords, or if any thing abroad like yee,
Sir, here's money, send for what you will Sir:
Nay, you shall beg no more at the Grate neither.
O. Fost.
Ha? Is not this Ludgate?
Yes Sir.
O. Fost.
A Iayle, a prison, a tombe of men lock'd up;
Alive and buryed?
'Tis what you please to call it.
O. Fost.
O, at what crevice then hath comfort
Like a Sun-beame crept? for all the doores
And windowes are of Iron, and barr'd to keepe
Her out; I had a limbe cut from my body
Deare to me as life; I had a son and brother too;
Oh griefe, they both would give me poyson first
In gold, before their hollow palmes ten
Drops should hold of natures drinke, cold water,
But to save my life one minute; whence
Should pitty come, when my best friends doe.
Beate it from this roome.
No matter Sir, since you have good meat set
Before you, never aske who sent it; if heaven
Provide for you, and make the fowles of the
Ayre your. Cators, feed you fat, and be thankefull,
And so I leave you.
M. Fost.
The Keeper is your friend, and powres true balme
Into your smarting wounds; therefore deare
Husband endure the dressing with patience.
O. Fost.
O wife, my losses are as numberlesse as the
Sea's sands that swallowed them. And shall
I in reckoning them, my sad griefes multiply?
M. Fost.

You may Sir, but your dim eyes so thick with teares doe run.

[Page 68] You cannot see from whence your comforts come,
Besides your debts being truly counted cannot
Be great.
O. Fost.

But all my wealth and state lyes in the seas Bottome.

M. Fost.
It againe may rise.
O. Fost.
Oh never.
M. Fost.
Good Sir, so hope, for I from heaven espy
An arme to plucke you from this misery.
Enter Keeper.
Sir, there's one without desires to speake with you.
O. Fost.
Goe send him in; none comes to doe me good
My wealth is lost, now let them take my blood.
Enter Robert.
Ha? what art thou? Call for the Keeper there
And thrust him out of doores, or locke me up.
M. Fost.
O 'tis your son, Sir.
O. Fost
I know him not:
I am no King, unlesse of scorne and woe,
Why kneel'st thou then; why dost thou mock me so?
O my deare father, hither am I come
Not like a threatning storme to encrease your wrack
For I would take all sorrowes from your backe
To lay them all on my owne.
O. Fost.
Rise mischiefe, rise, away and get thee gone.
O if I be thus hatefull to your eye
I will depart, and wish I soone may dye;
Yet let your blessing, Sir, but fall on me.
O. Fost.
My heart still hates thee.
M. Fost.
Sweet husband.
O. Fost.
Get you both gon;
That misery takes some rest that dwells alone;
Away thou villaine.
Heaven can tell, ake but your finger, I to make it
Well, would cut my hand off.
O. Fost.
Hang thee, hang thee.
M. Fost.
O. Fost.
[Page 69]
Destruction meete thee, turne the key there ho.
Good Sir: I'm gone, I will not stay to grieve you:
Oh knew you (for your woes) what paines I feele,
You would not scorne me so. See Sir, to coole
Your heate of burning sorrow I have got
Two hundred pounds and glad it is my lot
To lay it downe, with reverence at your feete;
No comfort in the world to me is sweet,
Whil'st thus you live in moane.
O. Fost.
Good troth Sir, I'l have none on't back,
Could but one penny of it save my life.
M. Fost.
Yet stay and heare him; Oh unnaturall strife,
In a hard fathers bosome.
O. Fost.
I see mine error now: oh can there grow
A Rose upon a Bramble? did theree'r flow
Poyson and health together in one tide?
I'm borne a man; reason may step aside.
And leade a father's love out of the way:
Forgive me, my good Boy, I went astray;
Looke, on my knees I beg it; not for joy
Thou bringst this golden rubbish, which I spurne
But glad in this, the heaven's mine eye balls turne,
And fixe them right to looke upon that face
Where love remaines with pitty, duty, grace.
Oh my deare wronged boy!
Gladnesse o'rwhelmes my heart with joy I cannot speak
M. Fost.
Crosses of this foolish world.
Did never grieve my heart with [...]ments more
Than it is now growne light,
With joy and comfort of this happy sight.
O. Fost.
Yet wife, I disinherited this boy.
Your blessings all I crave.
O. Fost.
And that enjoy for ever, evermore; my
Blessings fly, to pay thy vertues, love and charity.
Enter Stephens Wife
M. Fost.
Here comes your brothers wife,
[Page 70] Welcome deare sister.
I thanke you; how fare you brother?
O. Fost.
Better than your husband's hate could wish me,
That laughes to see my backe with sorrowes bow:
But I am rid of halfe my ague now.
Had you an ague then?
O. Fost.
Yes, and my heart had every houre a fit.
But now 'tas left me well, and I left it.
O, 'tis well Cozin, what make you heare I pray?
To support a weake house falling to decay.
'Tis well, if you can doe't, and that the timber
You under-prop it with be all your owne.
Hearke Cuz, where's your Vncles mony?
Faith Aunt 'tis gone, but not at dice,
Nor drabbing.
Sir, I believe with your Vncles gold your father
You relieve.
You are sav'd believing so, your beliefe's true.
You cut large thongs of that's another's due
And you will answer't ill: now in good troth
I laugh at this jest, much good doe them both:
My wager I had won, had I but layd.
O. Fost.
What has my poore boy done, that you have
Made so much blood rise in's cheekes?
Nothing deare brother, indeed all's well:
The course that he has runne I like and love,
Let him hold on the same;
A sons love to a father none can blame;
I will not leave your brother's [...]on heart
Till I have beate it soft with my intreates.
O. Fost.
'Twill ne'r be musick 'tis so full of frets.
Frets make best musike: strings the higher
Rack'd sound sweetest.
O. Fost.
And sound nothing when they are crackt,
As is his love to me, and mine to him.
I hope you both in smoother streames shall swim:
He [...]'s now the Sheriffe of London, and in counsell
[Page 71] Set at the Guildhall, in his scarlet Gowne
With Maior and Aldermen, how to receive the King,
Who comes to see Master Bruines Hospitall
To morow consecrated by'th Cardinall,
And old Saint Marie's Spittle, here by Shoreditch.
M. Fost.
I sister, he and you may sit 'bout what you will;
Heaven I'm sure prospers it, but I am ever crost;
You have bin bound for thee great voyages,
Yet ne're run a ground; maid, wife, and widdow,
And wife agen; have spread full and faire sayles,
No wracks you e're did dread, nor e're felt any;
But even close a shore, I'm sunke, and midst of
All my wealth made poore.
You must thanke heaven.
M. Fost.
I doe indeed, for all.
Sister, that hand can raise that gives the fall.
Enter Keeper.
Master Foster, the new Sheriffe your brother
Is come to Ludgate, and I am come in haste
To know your pleasure, if you would see him.
O. Fost.
I'l see a fury first, hence, clap to the doore I prethee.
Why, 'tis your brother Sir.
Father let's flye the thunder of his rage.
Stand valiantly, and let me beare the storme, all hurts
That are, and ruines in your bosomes I'l repayre.
Enter Stephen Foster.
Where's the Keeper, goe Sir, take
My Officers, and see your prisoners
Presently convey'd from Ludgate unto
Newgate, and the Counters.
I shall Sir.
Let the Constables of the Wards assist you,
Goe, dispatch and take these with you; how now,
What mak'st thou here thou Catiffe? had com'st
Thou to stitch his wounds that seekes to cut
My Throate, dar'st thou in dispight releeve this
O. Fost.
[Page 72]
Get thee from my sight, thou divell in red;
Com'st thou in scarlet pride to tread on thy poore
Brother in a Iayle, Is there but one small conduit-
pipe that runs could water to my comfort, and
Wouldst thou cut off that thou cruell man?
Yes, I'l stop that pipe that thou maist pining sit,
When drops but fell on me, thou poysond'st it:
Thou thrus [...]'st a sonnes name from thy cruell brest,
For cloathing of his Vncle; now that Vncle
Shall thrust him naked forth for clothing thee,
Banisht for ever from my wealth and me.
O. Fost.
Thou canst not be to nature so uneven,
To punish that which has a pay from heaven;
Pirty I meane, and duty; Wouldst thou strike?
Wound me then, that will kill thee if I can,
Tha [...]t no brother, and I'le be no man.
Thou ravest.
O. Fost.
How can I choose? thou makest me mad,
For shame thou shouldst not make these white haires sad;
Churle, beat not my poore boy, let him not lose
Thy love for my sake, I had rather bruise
My soule with torments for a thousand yeeres, could
[...] live them, rather than salt teares thy
Malice draw from him; see here's thy gold,
Tell it, none's stole, my woes can ne'r be told.
O [...] Is nature quite forgot?
O. Fost.
Choke with thy dung-hill muck, and vex me not.
No, keepe it, he perhaps, that money stole
From me, to give it thee, for which to vex thy
Soule, [...] turne him forth of doores, make him
Thy h [...]e, of Iay [...]es, miseries, curses, and dispaire;
For here I d [...]herit him of all.
O. Fost.
No matter, lands to him in heaven will fall.
[...] Husband.
M. [...].
Deare Vncle.
And [...], the dive [...] thumbs stop thine eares.
[Page 73]
I'l make thee wash those curses off with teares.
Keeper, away with him out of my sight,
And doe Sir, as I charg'd you.
Yes Sir; I will.
O. Fost.
Poore tyranny; when Lions weake Lambs kill.
How now wife, art vext yet?
Never so well content, beleeve me Sir;
Your mildnesse weares this maske of cruelty well.
I'm glad th'are gone, mine eyes with raine did swell,
And much adoe they had from powring downe:
The Keeper knows my minde, Wife I have paid
My brothers debts; and when he's out of doore:
To march to Newgate, he shall be set free.
O let me kisse thee for this charity;
But for your Cozin Sir.
He's my lives best health,
The Boy shall not miscarry for more wealth
Than London Gates looke safe up every night,
My breath in blacke clouds flyes, my thoughts
Are white.
Why from Ludgate doe you remove prisoners?
This is my meaning wife;
I'l take the prison downe and build it new,
With Leads to walke on, Roomes large and faire:
For when my selfe lay there, the noysome ayre,
Choaktup my spirits, and none better know,
What prisoners feele, than they that taste the woe.
The workmen are appointed for the businesse,
I will ha't dispatcht before 'tis thought on.
In good deeds I will walke hand in hand with you,
There is a faire tenement, adjoyning close to the Gate
That was my fathers, I'l give it freely, take it downe,
And adde so much ground to the worke.
'Tis fairely given.
Thy soule on prisoners prayers shall mount to heaven:
The Plummers and the Workemen have survey'd the ground
From Paddington; from whence I'l have laid pipes
[Page 74] Long to London to convey sweet water into Ludgate;
From fresh Springs: when charity tunes the, pipe the
Poore man sings.
Enter Keeper.
How now Keeper.
The prisoners are remov'd Sir.
What did you with my brother?
As you commanded Sir, I have discharged him.
How did he meet that unexpected kindnesse?
Troth Sir, as a man or'ecome 'twixt griefe and gladnes,
But turning to his sonne, he fetcht a sigh
So violent, as if his heart would breake,
And silent, wept, having no power to speake.
'Las good old man, some sweet bird must sing,
And give his sorrowes present comforting.
Not yet, I'l wracke his sorrowes to the height,
And of themselves they'l then sinke softly downe;
Keeper, goe thou agen after my brother,
Charge in my name him and his sonne to appeare
Before the King, to whom I will make knowne
Their wrongs against me; shewing just cause
To disinherit both by course of law. Be gone.
I am gone Sir.
Come Wife.
What's your meaning Sir?
Thou shall know that anon.
The heavens oft scowle, clouds thicken, winds blow high,
Yet the brightest Sunne cleares all, and so will I.
Enter, Henry the third Mountford, Pembroke, Arundell, Lord Maior, Sheriffe Foster, Cardinall, Bru­ine, &c.
O! welcome is all love, our peoples shouts
In their hearts language, make our benvenues,
Most high and soveraigne; we returne all thankes
Vnto our loving Cittizens, chiefely to you Sir,
Whose pious worke invites our Majesty to royallize
This place with our best presence, accompanied with this
Reverend Cardinall; would we might, after many broyles,
End our dayes in these religious toyles;
[Page 75] We would worke most faithfully; but bounteous Sir,
How doe you call your buildings?
Vnlesse it please your Majesty to change it,
I call it, Domus Dei.

The house of God, it is too good to change, pray you proceede.

These are my ends to all distressed Christians,
Whose travailes this way bends the hospitall,
Shall free souccour be, for three dayes, and three nights
Sojourne, for dyet, and lodging, both sweet, and
Satisfying; and if their neede be such, as much in
Coyne, as shall for three dayes more defray their
Futher travaile; this unto heaven, be you
Testator, good my Liege, and witnesse with me, noble
Gentlemen, most free and faithfully, I dedicate.
An honourable worke, and deserves large memory.
'Tis a good example, 'tis pitty 'tis no better followed.

But say Sir, now in some future age, perhaps some two or three hundred yeere behinde us, this place

Intended for a use so charitable, should bee
Vnhallowed agen, by villanous inhabitants; say whores,
In the stead of christians, and your hospitable
Tenements, turn'd intostewes; would not this grieve
You in your grave?
If my grave were capableof griefe: sure it would Sir.
Prethee be a false Prophet.
I will, if I can, my Lord.
Let now our Heraulds in the streets proclaime,
The title, and office, of this hospitall;
Make knowne to all distressed travellors, that
We'le accept this charitable house, this Domus Dei:
Shall be their free fojourne, as is propos'd.
Enter the one way, Stephens wife, the other, Mistris Foster, Iane, Old Foster, Robert and Keeper, All kneele.
What are these peticioners?
Each hath a knee for duty, the other for petition,
[Page 76]
Rise, your dutie's done, your petitionsshall neede
No knees, so your intents be honest, does
None here know them?
Yes my good Lord, there's now a wonder in your sight.
A wonder, Master Sheriffe, you meane for beauty.
No my Lege, I would not so boast mine
Owne wife, but 'tis a wonder that excels beauty.
A wonder in a woman; What is't I prethee?
Patience my Leige, this is a woman that
Was never vext.
You may boast it largely; 'tis a subjects happinesse
Above a Q [...]enes; Have you suites to us?
I am the suppliant plaintiffe, royall Henry
From me their griefes take their originall.
What art thou?
Even what your Grace shall please to make of me;
I was the son to this distressed father, untill he
Tooke his pa [...]ity off, and threw me from his love,
Then I became son to mine Vncle by adoption,
Who likewise that hath tane away againe,
And throwne me backe to poverty; never was
Son so [...]ost betwixt two fathers, yet knowes
Not one, for still the richest does despise his heire,
And I am backe expulst into despaire.
This may your vices cause.
For that I come to your impartiall censure for a doome.
We heare, speake on, we know the parties,
[...]ach one relate his griefe, and if it lye in us,
We'l yeeld reliefe; 'tis first requisite that we
Know of you Sir, the cause of this your Sonnes disinheritance
O. Fost.
Before I understood his vertuous minde,
Or weighed his disposition to be kind,
I did that froward worke; This now great man,
Was an unthrifty wretch, a prodigall then.
And I disdain'd to know his brotherhood,
Denyed reliefe to him; this childe kinde and good
Against my contradiction, did him releive, as his
[Page 77] Distressed Vncle, at this I chide; for bade,
Still hee holds on his course,
He growes more kinde, and he in wasting worse;
My rage continued as it had begun,
And in that rage I threw away my sonne.
The like plead I, my Lord: for when my state
Had rais'd itselfe by an uncertaine fate,
I tooke this out-cast childe, made him my owne,
As full and free, as I my selfe had sowne
The seede that brought him forth; for this my loue,
His oblieg'd duty presently did prove
A traytor to my trust, against my will,
Succouring that foe, which I did love so ill,
Onely for hating him; my charity being thus
Abus'd, and quit with injurie, what could I then
But as his father erst, so I agen might throw
Him from my love? for worse is love abus'd
Then new borne hate, and should be soe refus'de:
I did a fathers part, if it were bad,
Biame him for both, there I my patterne had.
You fall betwixt two pillars Sir, is't not so?
Vnhappy fate, my Lord, yet thus I pleade:
For this my fathers hate I might deserve,
I broke his precepts, and did unchildly swerve
From his commission, I to my Vncle gave
What was my fathers, striving thereby to save
His falne repute; he rag'd, I did it still,
Yet must consesse as it was well, twas ill,
Well in my love, me thought, ill to my fate:
For I thereby ruin'd my owne estate,
But that mine Vncle throwes me forth of doore
For the same cause he tooke me in before,
Beats forest, gainst my bosome; iftwere good
To [...] from a father for an Vncles foode,
In lawes of love and nature, how much rather
Might I abridge an Vncle for a father?
Charitie's, a vertue generally stands,
[Page 78] And should dispersed be through all mens hands.
Then would you keep't alone; for when your heire
I first adopted was, charity was there:
How er'rs your judgement then? seeing you see
What was good in you, makes sin in mee;
You'l say my father did it, oh throw away
That soule excuse; let not discretion stray
So farre a side; if custome lawfull make,
Then sin were lawfull for example sake;
Nor were these wasted goods only your owne,
Since part was mine having adoption;
Then doe him right, my Lord, yet doe no wrong,
For where my duty fai'ld my love was strong.
With an impartiall eare we have heard your
Loving story, 'tis both fayre and honest.
O let me now anticipate your Grace,
And casting off the shadow of a face,
Shew my hearts true figure, how have I striv'd
To make this forc't counterfeit long liu'd,
And now it bursts; comeinto my heart,
I have two iewells here shall never part
From my loves eye watch, two worthy to be fil'd,
On times best record; a woman and a child,
Now Sir, to you I come, we must be friends,
Though envie wils not so, yet love contends
Gainst envy and her forces; my young yeares
Say I must offer first, a peace in teares.
O. Fost.
O let my shame my bosomes center breake!
Love is to young it coyes, but cannot speake.
You blesse mine eyes with objects that become
The theater of Kings to looke upon.
The keeper is discharg'd Sir, your debts are paid,
And from the prison yare a new free man made:
Theres not a Creditor can aske you onght,
As your sonne did forme, so have I bought
Your liberty with mine, and to encrease it more,
Because I know bare liberty is poore
[Page 79] Without assistance: to raise your state agen,
The thirds of mine are yours, say you Amen.
No, not to that, you are kind brothers now,
Divide by halfes that love, and I'l allow.
Thou art onely wise in vertue, as thou setst downe,
So let it be, halfe my estate's your owne.
O. Fost.
It whole redownes agen, for I am yours;
Forget this minute my forgetfull houres.
O, they are buried all Sir.
This union's good, such league should ever be in bro­therhood.
Yet without boast, my Leige, let me relate
One small thing more, remorse of my owne state,
And my deare brothers worse succession;
For that we both have prisoners been in one
Selfe-same place of woe, and felt those throwes
That Ludgate yeelds; my charity bestowes
Some almes of comfort: Keeper you can speake it.
And many hundreds more Sir, you have reedified
And built it faire, adding more ground to it,
And by pipes of lead from Paddingtun, drawne
Water thither, free for all prisoners, lodgings
Likewise free, and a hundred pounds yearely, to make
Them fues for better comfort: all this is almost finisht:
A worthy work, the better being done in the Founders ere,
Not left unto succession.
O my good Lord, I ever keep in mind an English
Sentence, which my tutor is, and teaches me to act my
Charity [...] mine [...] [...]full is
Performance, when the Benefactor's dead.
What is't I prethee?
This my good Lord, women are forgetfull.
Children unkind, Executors covetous, and take what they find,
If any man aske where the deads goods became,
The Executor sweares he dyed a poore man.
You have prevented well, so has this good Alderman,
I wish you many Schollers.
You make some doubt of me in this Sir;
[Page 80] Did you not say that women were forgetfull,
You have vext her now Sir, how doe you answer that?
No my Lord, she's exempt from the proverbe.
No my Lord, I'l helpe it better, I doe confesse
That women are forgetfull, yet ne'r the lesse
I am exempt, I know my fate, and finde
My deare husband must not leave me behind,
But I must goe before him, and 'tis said,
The grave's good rest when women goe first to bed.
Thankes for thy excuse good wife, but not thy love
To fill my grave before me, I would not live to see that day.
Prethee no more, I had rather be angry than flatter'd.
You have a wonder Master Sheriffe, a prizelesse jewell.
Many jewels my good Lord; a brother, wife, and child,
For this I would have strove even with a father,
[...] ere rough stormes did in my browsappeare,
Within my bosome it was alwaies cleare.
O. Fost.
I give him to you now Sir.
I take him, and to him backe doe give,
All that my selfe behind in state shall leave.
O. Fost.
And all that you gave me, I doe bestow,
So in one houre become full heire to two.
I claime a third by this bonds vertue,
See as a third father, thou art heire to those.
I will not goe to him father on any of these conditions.
You shall have love to boote too, sweet Iane.
Nay, and y [...] play booty, I dare not trust you.
What shall I say, [...] and [...],
Ty'de in a True-loves Knot, ne'r to part.
I marry Sir, these are better conditions than the
Inheritance of three fathers; let me have
Love in Esse, let lands follow in Posse:
Now I'l have thee as fast as the Priest
Can dispatch us, let him read as fast as he can.
The liveliest harmony that ere I heard;
All instruments compar'd to these sweet tunes,
Are dull and harsh; I joy to see so good a childe.
[Page 81] A woman wonder, brothers reconcil'd;
You worthy Sir, did invite us to a feast,
Wee'l not forget it, but will bee your guest,
Because wee'l veiw these wonders o're agen,
Whose records doe deserve a brazen Pen,
But this above the rest, in golden text,
Shall be insculpt; A Woman never Vext.

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