[Page] [Page] ❧ IOHN DRVMS Entertainment, or the Comedie of Pasquill and Katherine.
Enter the Tyer-man.
IN good faith Gentlemen, I thinke we shall be forced to giue you right Iohn Drums entertainment, for hee that composde the Booke, we should present, hath done vs very vehement wrong, he hath snatched it from vs, vpon the very instance of entrance, and with violence keepes the boyes from comming on the Stage. So God helpe me, if we wrong your delights, tis infinitly against our endeuours, vnles we should make a tumult in the Tyring-house.
Exit Tyer-man.
Enter one of the Children.
You much mistake his Action Tyer-man,
His violence proceeds not from a minde
That grudgeth pleasure to this generous presence,
But doth protest all due respect and loue
Vnto this choise selected influence.
He vowes, if he could draw the musick frō the Spheares
[Page]To entertaine this presence with delight,
Or could distill the quintessence of heauen
In rare composed Sceanes, and sprinkle them
Among your eares, his industry should sweat
To sweeten your delights: but he was loth,
Wanting a Prologue, & our selues not perfect,
To rush vpon your eyes without respect:
Yet if youle pardon his defects and ours,
Heele giue vs passage, & you pleasing sceanes,
And vowes not to torment your listning eares
With mouldy fopperies of stale Poetry,
Vnpossible drie mustie Fictions:
And for our parts to gratifie your fauour,
Weele studie till our cheekes looke wan with care,
That you our pleasures, we your loues may share.
Exit.
Enter Iacke Drum, and Timothy Twedle, with a Taber and a Pipe.
Drum.
Come Timothy Twedle, tickle thy Pipe on the greene, as I haue tipled the Pot in the Seller, and the hoy for the honor of High-gate, you old Troian.
Twedle.
And a heigh for the honor of Hygate, Hem, by my holydam, tho I say it, that shuld not say it, I think I am as perfect in my Pipe, as Officers in poling, Courtiers in flattery, or wenches in falling: Why looke you Iacke Drum, tis euen as naturall to me, as brawdry to a Somner, knauery to a Promoter, or damnation to an Vsurer. But is Holloway Morice prancing vp the hill?
Drum.
I, I; and Sir Edward, and the yeallow toothd, sunck-eyde, gowtie shankt Vsurer Maman, my young [Page] Mistresses and all are comming to the greene, lay Cushions, lay the Cushions, ha the wenches!
Twed.
The wenches, ha, when I was a yong man and could tickle the Minikin, and made them crie thankes sweete Timothy, I had the best stroke, the sweetest touch, but now (I may sigh to say it) I am falne from the Fidle and betooke me to thee.
He plaies on his Pipe.
Enter Sir Edward Fortune, M. Mamon, Camelia, Katherine, and Winifride, Camelias maide.
Sir Ed.
Sit M. Mamon, ha heeres a goodly day nigh.
Mam.
I thank you Sir, and faith what newes at court?
Sir Ed.
What newes at court? ha, ha, now Iesu God,
Fetch me some Burdeux wine, what newes at court?
Reprobate fashion, when each ragged clowt,
Each Coblers spawne, and yeastie bowzing bench,
Reekes in the face of sacred maiestie
His stinking breath of censure, Out-vpont,
He drinkes.
Why by this Burdeux iuice, tis now become
The shewing-horne of Bezelers discourse,
The common foode of prate: what newes at court?
But in these stiffe nekt times when euery Iade
Huffes his vpreared crest, the zealous bent
Of Councellors solide cares is trampled on
By euery hacknies heeles: Oh I could burst
At the coniectures feares, preuentions
And restles tumbling of our tossed braines:
Ye shall haue me an emptie caske thats furd
With nought but barmy froath, that nere traueld
Beyond the confines of his Mistresse lippes,
Discourse as confident of peace with Spaine▪
As if the Genius of quick Machiauel
Mam.
Oh forbeare, you are too sharpe with me.
S. Ed.
Nay M▪ Mamon, misinterpret not,
I onely burne the bauen heath of youth,
That cannot court the presence of faire time
With ought but with, what newes at Court sweete sir?
I had rather that Kemps Morice were their chat,
For of foolish actions, may be theyle talke wisely, but of
Wise intendments, most part talke like fooles.
The summe is this, beare onely this good thought,
The Counsell-chamber is the Phaenix nest,
Who wastes it selfe, to giue vs peace and rest.
The Taber and Pipe strike vp a Morrice. A shoute within. A Lord, a Lord, a Lord, who!
Ed.
Oh a Morice is come, obserue our country sport,
Tis Whitson-tyde, and we must frolick it.
Enter the Morrice.
The Song.
Skip it, & trip it, nimbly, nimbly, tickle it, tickle it, lustily,
Strike vp the Taber, for the wenches fauor, tickle it, tickle it, lustily:
Let vs be seene, on Hygate Greene, to daunce for the honour of Holloway.
Since we are come hither, lets spare for no leather,
To daunce for the honour of Holloway.
Ed.
Wel said my boyes, I must haue my Lords liuory, what ist, a May-pole? troth twere a good body for a courtiers imprezza, if it had but this life, Frustra florescit. Hold Couzen hold.
He giues the Foole money.
Thankes Couzen, when the Lord my Fathers Audit comes, weel repay you again. Your beneuolence too sir.
Mam.
What a Lords sonne become a begger?
Foole.
Why not, when beggers are become Lordes sonnes, come tis but a small trifle.
Mam.
Oh sir, many a small make a great.
Foole.
No sir, a fewe great make a many small, come my Lords, poore and need hath no lawe.
S. Ed.
Nor necessitie no right, Drum downe with them into the Celler, rest content, rest cōtent, one bout more and then away.
Foole.
Speake like a true heart, I kisse thy foote sweet knight.
The Morice sing and daunce, and Exeunt.
Ma.
Sir Edward Fortune you keep too great a house,
I am your friend, in hope your sonne in lawe,
And from my loue I speake, you keep too great a house,
Go too you do, yon same dry throated huskes
Will suck you vp, and you are ignorant
What frostie fortunes may benumme your age,
Pouertie, the Princes frowne, a ciuile warre, or.
S. Ed.
Or what? tush, tush, your life hath lost his taste,
Oh madnes still to sweate in hotte pursuite
Of cold abhorred sluttish nigardise,
To exile ones fortunes from their natiue vse,
To entertaine a present pouertie,
A willing want, for Infidell mistrust
Of gratious prouidence: Oh Lunacie,
I haue two thousand pound a yeare, and but two Girles,
I owe nothing, liue in all mens loue,
Why should I now go make my selfe a slaue
Vnto the god of fooles; put worst: then heer's my rest.
I had rather liue rich to die poore, then liue poore to die rich.
Oh but so great a masse of coyne might mount from wholsome thrift, that after your decease your issue might swell out your name with pompe.
S. Ed.
Ha, I was not borne to be my Cradles drudge,
To choake and stifle vp my pleasures breath,
To poyson with the venomd cares of thrift
My priuate sweet of life: onely to scrape
A heap of muck, to fatten and manure
The barren vertues of my progeny,
And make them sprowt, spight of their want of worth:
No, I do loue my Girles should wish me liue,
Which fewe do wish that haue a greedy Syre:
But still expect and gape with hungry lip,
When heele giue vp his gowtie stewardship.
Mam.
You touch the quick of sence, but thē I wonder
You not aspire vnto the eminence
And height of pleasing life: to Court, to Court,
There burnish, there spread, there stick in pompe
Like a bright Diamond in a Ladies browe,
There plant your fortunes in the flowring spring,
And get the sunne before you of respect:
There trench your selfe within the peoples loue,
And glitter in the eye of glorious grace,
What's wealth without respect and mounted place?
S. Ed.
Worse and worse, I am not yet distraught,
I long not to be squeasd with mine owne waight:
Nor hoyse vp all my sailes to catch the winde
Of the drunke reeling Commons: I labor not
To haue an awfull presence, nor be feard
(Since who is feard, still feares to be so feard)
I care not to be like the Horeb Calfe,
One day ador'd, and next pasht all in peeces:
Nor do I enuy Poliphemiā puffes,
[Page] Swizars slopt greatnes: I adore the Sunne,
Yet loue to liue within a temperate zone,
Let who will climbe ambitious glibbery rowndes,
And leane vpon the vulgars rotten loue,
I'le not coriuall him: The Sunne will giue
As great a shadow to my trunck as his:
And after death like Chesmen hauing stood
In play for Bishops, some for Knights, and Pawnes,
We all together shall be tumbled vp, into one bagge,
Let hush'd calme quiet, rock my life a sleepe:
And being dead, my owne ground presse my bones,
Whilest some old Beldame hobling ore my graue,
May mumble thus: Here lies a knight whose money
Was his slaue. Now Iack what newes?
Enter Iack Drum.
Drum.
And please your Wor. the Morice haue tane their liquor.
Sir Ed.
Hath not the liquor tane them?
Drum.
Tript vp their heeles or so? one of them hath vndertaken to daunce the Morice from Hygate to Holloway on his heeles, with his hands vpwards.
S. Ed.
Thats nothing hard.
Drum.
Yes sir, tis easier for him to daunce on his head than his heeles, for indeed his heeles are turnde rancke rebels, they wil not obey, but they are tumbling downe the hill a pace.
Ma.
And I must after then, farwel my soules delight,
Sweete Katherine adieu. Camelia goodnight.
S. Ed.
Nay not to London Sir to night, Ifaith at least stay supper.
Drum.
Harke you sir, theres but two Lambes, a dozen Capons, halfe a score couple of Rabbots, three Tartes, and foure Tansies, for supper, and therfore I beseech you [Page] giue him Iacke Drums entertainment: Let the Iebusite depart in peace.
Sir Ed.
Why Iacke, is not that sufficient?
Drum.
I for any Christian, but for a yawning vsurer tis but a bit, a morsell, if you table him, heele deuoure your whole Lordship, hee is a quicksand, a Goodwin, a Gulfe, as hungry as the Iawes of a Iayle, hee will waste more substance then Ireland souldiers: A Die, a Drabbe, and a paunch-swolne Vsurer, deuoure whole Monarchies: Let him passe sweete knight, let him passe.
Sir Ed.
Peace knaue peace.
Daughter, lay your expresse commaundement vpon the stay of maister Mamon, what tis womens yeere,
Dian doth rule, and you must domineere.
Mam.
No sheele not wish my stay, oh I am curst
With her inexorable swiftnes, by her loue
Which dotes me more then new coynd glowing gold,
The vtmost bent of my affection
Shootes all my fortunes to obtaine her loue,
And yet I cannot praise, but stil am loathde.
My presence hated, therfore Mamon downe,
Farewell sir Edward, farewell beauties Crowne.
Sir Ed.
Faith as it please you for going, and her for wooing,
I will enforce neither.
Kath.
With your pardon sir, I shall sooner hate my selfe,
Then loue him.
Sir Ed.
Nay be free my daughters in election,
Oh, how my soule abhorres inforced yokes,
Chiefly in loue, where the affections bent:
Should wholy sway the Fathers kind consent.
Foregod when I was batcheler, had a friend,
Nay had my Father wisht me to a wife,
That might haue lik'd mee, yet their very wish
[Page]Made me mistrust my Loue had not true course,
But had some sway from dutie which might hold
For some slight space: but ô when time shall search
The strength of loue, then vertue, and your eye,
Must knit his sinewes: I chusde my selfe a wife
Poore, but of good dissent, and we did liue
Till death diuorc'd vs, as a man would wish:
I made a woman, now wenches make a man:
Chuse one either of valour, wit, honestie, or wealth,
So he begentle, and you haue my heart,
I faith you haue: What, I haue land for you both,
You haue loue for your selues. Heeres M. Mamon now.
Drum.
A club-fisted Vsurer.
Sir. Ed.
A wealthie, carefull, thriuing Citizen.
Mam.
Carefull, I, I, let nothing without good blacke and white, I warrant you.
Drum.
Yes sir.
Mam.
No sir.
Drum.
A litle backe winde, sauing your wor. sir.
Mam.
I am scoft at, wheres my man there ho?
Came.
Sir you need not take the pepper in the nose,
Your nose is firie enough.
Mam.
What Flawne, what Christopher, Hart where's the knaue become? Hold sirrah carry my cloake.
Enter Flawne.
Kathe.
It seemes he can scarce carry himselfe.
Drum.
Hee's ouer the shooes, yet heele hold out water, for I haue liquor'd him soundly.
Mam.
Why cannot you come where headie liquore is, but you must needs bouze?
What a man may leade a horse to the water, but heele chuse to drinke.
Flawn.
True, but I am no horse, for I cannot chuse but drinke.
A pale weake stripling, yet contend with Ale.
Flawne.
Why the weakest go to the Pot still.
Mam.
That Iest shall saue him. Sir Edward now good day.
Exit.
Sir Ed.
Nay sir, weele bring you a litle of the way.
Drum.
Rely on me Christopher, I will be thy staffe,
And thy Masters nose shalbe thy lanthorn & candlelight
Exeunt all. Manent Camelia and Winifride.
Wini.
Mistresse Camelia, me thinkes your eye
Sparkles not spirit as twas wont to doo.
Came.
My mind is dull, and yet my thoughts are fixt
Vpon a pleasing obiect, Brabants loue.
Wini.
Indeed yong Brabant is a propper man,
And yet his legges are somewhat of the least:
And faith a chitty well complexioned face,
And yet it wants a beard: A good sweet youth,
And yet some say he hath a valiant breath,
Of a good haire, but oh, his eies, his eies.
Came.
Last day thy praise extold him to the skies.
Wi.
Indeed he wares good cloaths, & throws his cloak
With good discretion vnder his left arme,
He curles his boote with iudgement, and takes a whiffe
With gracefull fashion, sweares a valorous oath,
But ô the diuel, hath a hatefull fault, he is a yonger brother.
Came.
A yonger brother? ô intollerable.
Wini.
No Mistresse, no: but theres M. Iohn,
M. Iohn Ellis, theres a Lad Ifaith,
Ha for a vertuous honest good youth!
Came.
Tut he is good, because he knows not how to be bad,
Nor wherefore he is good.
Wini.
I know not, mee thinkes not to be bad, is good enough in these daies.
Came.
Nay he is a foole, a perfect Idiot.
Win.
Why all the better. And I'le tell you this,
[Page]The greatest Lady in the Land affects him,
Nay doates vpon him, I, and lies with him.
Ca.
What Lady, good sweet Winifride, what Lady say▪ Faith there be some good parts about the foole, which I perceiue not, yet an other may: what Lady, good sweet Winifride? say quick good wench.
Winif.
The Lady Fortune.
Camel.
Why my name's Fortune too.
Winif.
Then you must needs fauour him▪
For Fortune fauours fooles.
Camel.
Oh but to hugge a foole is odious.
Winif.
Foule water quencheth fire well inough,
And with more liuely pallar, you shall taste
The Iuyce of pleasures fount at priuate times:
Pish, by my maiden-head, were I to match,
I would elect a wealthy foole foreall,
Then may one hurry in her Chariot,
Shine in rich purpled Tissue, haue hundred loues,
Rule all, pay all, take all, without checke or snib.
When being maried to a wise man (O the Lord)
You are made a foole, a Ward, curbd and controlld, and (O) out vpon't.
Came.
Beleeue me wench, thy words haue fired me,
I'le lay me downe vpon a banke of Pinkes,
And dreame vppont; Sweete foole, I tis most cleare,
A foolish bed-mate, why he hath no peere.
Exit Camelia.
Winif.
Ha, ha, her loue is as vncertaine as an Almanacke, as vnconstant as the fashion, Iust like a whiffe of Tabacco, no sooner in at the mouth, but out at the nose: I thinke in my heart I could make her enamoured on Timothy Twedle: wel he that fees me best, speeds best. For as it pleasd my bribed lippes to blowe, [Page] So turnes her feathry fancie too and fro.
Exit.
Enter Brabant iunior at one doore, Ned Planet at the other.
Bra.
Good speed thee my good sweet Planet,
How doest thou Chuck?
Pla.
How now Brabant, where haue you liu'de these three or foure dayes?
Bra.
Ho at the glittering Court my Pytheas.
Pla.
Plague on ye Pytheas, what haue you done there?
Bra.
Why lane in my Ladies lap, eate, drink, & sleep.
Pla.
So hath thy Ladies Dog done, what art in loue
With you Hygate Mammer still?
Bra.
Still, I still, and still, I in eternitie.
Plan.
It shall bee Cronicled next after the death of Bankes his Horse, I wonder why thou lou'st her?
Bra.
Loue hath no reason.
Pla.
Then is loue a beast.
Bra.
O my Camelia is loue it selfe.
Pla.
The diuel she is: Harther lips looke like a dride Neats-tongue: her face as richly yeallow, as the skin of a cold Custard, and her mind as setled as the feet of bald pated time.
Bra.
Plague on your hatefull humor, out vppont,
Why should your stomacke be so queasie now,
As to bespawle the pleasures of the world?
Why should you run an Idle counter-course
Thwart to the path of fashion? Come your reason?
O you are buried in Philosophie,
And there intombd in supernaturalls,
You are dead to natiue pleasures life.
Pla.
Let me busse thy cheeke sweete Pugge, [Page] Now I am perfect hate, I lou'd but three things in the world, Philosophy, Thrift, and my self. Thou hast made me hate Philosophy. A Vsurers greasie Codpeece made me loath Thrift: but if all the Brewers Iades in the town can drug me from loue of my selfe, they shall doo more then e're the seuen wise men of Greece could: Come, come, now I'le be as sociable as Timon of Athens.
Bra.
Along with me then, you droming Sagbut,
I'le bring thee to a Crewe.
Pla.
Of Fooles wilt not?
Bra.
Faith if you haue any waight of iudgement, you may easily sound what depth of witts they drawe, theres first my elder brother.
Pla.
Oh the Prince of Fooles, vnequald Ideot,
He that makes costly suppers to trie wits:
And will not stick to spend some 20. pound
To grope a gull: that same perpetuall grin
That leades his Corkie Iests to make them sinke
Into the eares of his Deryders with his owne applause.
Bra.
Indeed his Iests are like Indian beefe, they will not last, and yet he powders them soundly with his own laughter.
Then theres the Gotish French-man, Mounsieur Iohn fo de King, knowste thou him?
Pla.
Oh, I to a haire, for I knew him when he had neuer a haire on his head.
Bra.
He is a faithfull pure Rogue.
Pla.
I, I, as pure as the gold that hath bene seuen times tryed in the fire.
Bra.
Then theres Iohn Ellis, and profound toungd Maister Puffe, he that hath a perpetuitie of complement, he whose phrases are as neatly deckt as my Lord Maiors [Page] Hensmen, he whose throat squeakes like a treble Organ, and speakes as small and shrill, as the Irish-men crie Pip, fine Pip.
And when his period comes not roundly off, takes tole of the tenth haire of his Bourbon locke: as thus. Sweete Sir, repute me as a (Puffe) selected spirit borne to be the admirer, of your neuer inough admired (Puffe).
Pla.
Oh we shall be ouerwhelmd with an invndation of laughter. Come, where are they?
Bra.
Here at this Tauerne.
Pla.
In, in, in, in, I long to burst my sides and tyer my spleene with laughter.
Exeunt.
Enter two Pages, the one laughing, the other crying.
Page. 1.
Why do'st thou crie?
2.
Why do'st thou laugh?
1.
I laugh to see thee crie.
2.
And I crie to see thee laugh.
Peace be to vs. Heres our Maisters.
Enter Brabant Signior, Planet, Brabant Iunior, Iohn Ellis, M. Puffe, and Mounsieur Iohn fo de King.
Bra. Sig.
You shall see his humour, I pray you bee familiar with this Gentleman maister Puffe, he is a man of a well growne spirit, richly worth your. I assure you, ha, ha, ha.
Puff.
Sir I enrowle you in the Legend of my (Puffe) intimates, I shall be infinitely proud if you will daigne to value me worthy the embracement of your (Puffe) better affection.
Speake you from your thought sir?
Puffe.
I, or would my silke stocke should loose his glosse else, I shall triumph as much in the purchase of your (Puffe) loue, as if I had obtained the great Elixar: Let vs incorporate our affections I pray you: let me be forward in your fauour.
Pla.
Sir, I pray you let me beg you for a Foole.
Puff.
I affect no rudenes gentlemē, the heauens stand
Propitious to your faire designes:
Assoone as next the sun shall gin to shine,
I will salute the eies of Katherine.
Bra. Sig.
Of Katherine, M. Planet obserue the next,
M. Iohn, what makes you so melancholy?
Ellis.
I do not vse to answere questions.
Bra. Iu.
What are you thinking on now?
El.
I do not vse to thinke.
Bra. Sig.
He lookes as demurely as if he were asking his Father blessing.
El.
I do not vse to aske my Father blessing.
Bra. Iu.
Hart, how chaunce he is out of his similies?
Pla.
I haue followed Ordinaries this twelue month, onely to finde a Foole that had landes, or a fellow that would talke treason, that I might beg him. Iohn, be my Ward Iohn, faith Ile giue thee two coates a yeare and be my Foole.
Bra. Sig.
He shall be your Foole, and you shall be his
Coxe-come. Ha, ha, I haue a simple wit, ha, ha.
Pla.
I shall crowe o're him then.
Enter Winifride.
Wini.
Is there not one M. Iohn Ellis here?
Page.
There sits the thing so calde.
Winifride and Ellis talke.
Br. Sig.
Now to the last course: Monsieur Iohn fo de King,
[Page]I will helpe you to a wench
Mounsieur. Moun.
No point, a burne childe feere de fire.
Ellis.
As a hungry dogge waiteth for a mutton bone, or as a tatterd foote-boy for a cast sute, euen so will I attend on my Mistris.
Enter Winifride.
Moun.
O my Vinifride, piee you awe, by gor, me ang de for her.
Bra. Sig.
Nay stay, stay, I will helpe you to a dilicate plump-lipt wench.
Moun.
Toh, phi, phi, your proffer ware stink: stay Vinifride; or by gor die, me die, me die by gor, me ang so desirous adiew goot Sir.
Bra. Sig.
Oh stay Mounsieur, how do you pronounce Demurra? Ha, ha, Ile plague him.
Moun.
Grand Sot, my vench is gone, & me brule, and me brule, like one mad bule, me go into de vaterto coole my reine, ang my back made de vater hize againe, dus so brule, me burst vor a vench, and yet grand poc on you all, pree you adiew.
Ellis.
As the Iigge is cald for when the Play is done, euen so let Mounsieur goe.
Moun.
Hee, me teach you much French vor dis, I goe to Hygate, adiew grand Sors.
Exit Mounsieur.
Ellis
As sore eyes cannot endure the Sun, nor scabd hands abide salt water, so must I leaue all, and see my mistresse, and as faire Ladies do vse soule foyles, euen so do I bid you farewell.
Exit Ellis.
Bra. Sig.
Why this is sport imperiall, by my Gentry, I would spend fortie Crownes, for such an other feast of fooles. Ha, ha.
Bra. Iu.
I wonder who would be the foole then?
Why tis the recreation of my Intellect, I thinke I speake as significant, ha, ha, these are my zanyes, I fill their paunches, they seed my pleasures, I vse them as my fooles faith, ha, ha.
Pla.
Tis a generous honour.
Bra. Sig.
Troath I thinke you haue a good wit, ha? pray you sup with me, I loue good wits, because mine owne is not vnfortunate: pray you sup with me.
Pla.
Ile giue God thankes sir, that hath sent a foole to feed me.
Bra. Sig.
Come along then, ye shall haue a Capon, a Tansey, and some kick-showes of my wits, ha, ha, some toyes of my spirit.
Exit Bra. Sig. and Bra. Iunior.
Pla.
I will eate his meate, and spend's money, thats all the spight I can do him: but if I can get a Pattent for concealed Sots, that Dawe shall troupe among my Ideots.
Exit.
Enter M. Puffe with his Page.
Puffe.
Boy whats a Clocke?
Page.
Past three, and a faire morning.
Puffe.
Burnes not that light within the sacred shrine?
I meane the chamber of bright Katherine.
Page.
I, should appeare by these presence, that it doth.
Puffe.
I wonder that the light is vp so soone.
Page.
O Mistresse Snuffe was weary with sleeping in the Socket, and therefore hath newly put on her stamell petticoat, & takē her pewter state to giue light to things are in darknesse.
And I know that women of grauitie and sweetnes are soone vp.
Page.
I see that women of leuitie and lightnesse, are soone downe.
Puff.
Boy cleare thy throate, and mount thy sweetest notes
Vpon the bosom of this sleeke cheekt aire:
That it may gently breathe them in the eare
Of my adored Mistresse: Come begin.
The Song.
Delicious beautie that doth lie
Wrapt in a skin of Iuorie,
Lie stil, lie stil vpon thy backe,
And Fancy let no sweete dreames lacke
To tickle her, to tickle her with pleasing thoughts.
But if thy eyes are open full,
Then daine to view an honest gull,
That stands, that stands, expecting still
When that thy Casement open will
And blesse his eyes, & blesse his eyes, with one kind glance.
The Casement opens, and Katherine appeares.
Puf.
All happinesse and vnconceiu'd delight,
Waite on the loue of sweet fac'de Katherine.
Kathe.
Good youth Amen: I do returne your wish
With ample interest of beatitude.
Puf.
I do protest, with ceremonious (puffe) lippes
The purest blood of my affection,
Is euen fatally predestinate
To consecrate it selfe vnto your (puffe) loue.
Ka.
Vnto my loue? Oh sir you binde me to you:
[Page]Faire Gentleman I haue a thankfull heart,
Tho not a glorious speech to sweet my thankes.
Puf.
Reward my loue then with your kinder loue.
Ka.
With my loue sir, I relish not your speech.
Puf.
I with your loue, in pleasing marriage.
Ka.
Alas sir, cannot be my Loues a man,
Who hardly can requite the deare protests
Of kind affection, which you seeme to vowe
Vnto his fortunes: kind youth, you did wish
All happinesse to wayt vpon my loue:
Well he shall know it when we next do meete,
And thanke you kindly: now good morrow sweete.
Puf.
You take my, my, my meaning (puffe.)
Page.
Nay if he be puffing once, the fire of his wit is out.
Puf.
Why she is gone. Hart did I rise for this?
Pa.
She cannot endure puffing. O you puft her away
Puf.
Lets slink along vnseen, tis yet scarse day.
Exeunt.
Enter Mamon with Flawne, bearing a light before Mamon.
Flawn.
Now me thinks I hold the candle to the diuel.
Mam.
Put out the light, the day begins to breake.
Flawn.
Would the day and thy neck were broke togither.
Mam.
Oh how the gout and loue do tyre me.
Flawne.
Why sir, loue is nothing but the very gout.
Mam.
As how Flawne? as how?
Flawne
Thus sir: Gout and loue, both come with Idlenesse, both incurable, both humorous, onely this difference: the Gout causeth a great tumor in a mans legges, and loue a great swelling in a womans belly.
Mam.
Why then ô Loue, ô Gout, ô goutie Loue, how thou torments olde Mamon: good morrow to the [Page] sweet lipt Katherine, eternall spring vnto thy beauties loue.
Ka.
Alas good aged Sir, what make you vp?
In faith I pittie you, good soule to bed,
Troth soone youle crie, Oh God my head, my head.
Mam.
No Katherine, the wrinckling print of time
Err'd, when it seald my forehead vp with age:
I haue as warme an arme to entertaine
And hugge thy presence in a nuptiall bed▪
As those that haue a cheek more liuely red:
And tho my voice be rude, yet Flawne can sing
Peans of beautie, and of Katherine.
List to the Musicke that corrupts the Goddes,
Subuerts euen Desteny, and thus it shogges.
The Song.
Chunck, chunck, chunck, chunck, his bagges do ring
A merry note with chuncks to sing▪
Those that are farre more yong and wittie,
Are wide from singing such a Dittie
As Chunck, chunck, chunck,
Theres Chunck that makes the Lawier prate,
Theres Chunck that make a foole of Fate:
Theres Chunck, that if you will be his,
Shall make you liue in all hearts blis▪
With Chunck, chunck, chunck.
Ka.
Tis wel sung good old man, hence with your gold,
Leaue the green fields tis deawy; youle take cold.
Mam.
The Casements shut, wel here Ile lu [...]ke & stay,
To see who beares the glorie of the day.
Hence, hence, to London, Flawne let me alone.
Enter
I can hardly leaue him alone, for the Diuell and double Duckats, still associate him, but I am gone.
Exit.
Enter Pasquill.
Pasquil.
The glooming morne with shining Armes hath chaste
The siluer Ensign of the grim cheekt night,
And forc'd the sacred troupes of sparkling starres
Into their priuate Tents, yet calme husht sleepe
Strikes dumbe the snoring world: yet frolick youth
Thats lately matcht vnto a well shapte Lasse,
Clippes his sweet Mistresse, with a pleasing arme,
Whilst the great power of Imperious Loue
Sommons my dutie to salute the shine
Of my Loues beauties. Vnequald Katherine
I bring no Musick to prepare thy thoughts
To entertaine an amorous discourse:
More Musick's in thy name, and sweet dispose,
Then in Apollos Lyre, or Orpheus close.
I'le chaunt thy name, and so inchaunt each eare,
That Katherinas happie name shall heare.
My Katherine, my life, my Katherine.
Kathe.
My Ned, my Pasquil, sweet I come, I come,
Euen with like swiftnes, tho not with like heart:
As the fierce Fawcon stoupes to rysing fowle
I hurrey to thee: do not goe away,
The place is priuate, and tis yet scarce day.
Pas.
Oh these kind words imparadize my thoughts.
Ma.
Ha, ha, yong Pasquil haue I found you out▪
Ist you must bore my nose, Ile bore your heart:
Why this same boy's as bare as naked Truthe.
A lowe ebd gallant, yet sheele match with him:
Ile match him, if his skin be ponyard proofe▪
[Page]He may scape the force of gold and murder, if not▪
As you returne sir, I will pepper you.
Exit.
Enter Katherine to Pasquill.
And art thou come deare hart, first fee be this,
This kinde imbrace, and next this modest kis.
Pas.
This is no kisse, but an Ambrosian bowle,
The Nectar deaw of thy delicious sowle:
Let me sucke one kisse more, and with a nimble lip,
Nibble vpon those Rosie bankes, more soft and cleare
Then is the Ieweld tip of Venus eare.
Oh how a kisse inflames a Louers thought,
With such a fewell let me burne and die,
And like to Hercules so mount the skie.
Ka.
Come you grow wanton. Oh you bite my lip.
Pas.
In faith you Iest, I did but softly sip
The Roseall Iuice of your reuiuing breath:
Let clumsie iudgements, chilblaind gowtie wits
Bung vp their chiefe content within the whoopes
Of a stuft dry Fatt: and repose their hopes
Of happinesse, and hearts tranquilitie,
Vpon increase of durt: but let me liue
Clipt in the cincture of a faithfull arme,
Luld in contented ioy, being made diuine,
With the most precious loue of Katherine.
Ka.
Let the vnsanctified spirit of ambition
Entice the choyse of muddy minded Dames
To yoke themselues to swine, and for vaine hope
Of gay rich trappings, be still spurd and prickt
With pining discontent for nuptiall sweetes.
But let me liue lou'd in my husbands eies,
Whose thoughts with mine, may sweetly simpathize.
Pas.
The heauens shall melt, the sun shall cease to shine,
Before I leaue the loue of Katherine.
Nay when heauens melted, & the sun strooke dead,
Euen then my loue shall not be vanquished.
Pas.
When I turne fickle, vertue shall be vice.
Ka.
When I proue false, Hell shall be Paradice.
Pas.
My life shall be maintaind by thy kind breath.
Ka.
Thy loue shall be my life, thy hate my death.
Pas.
Oh when I die let me imbrace thy waste.
Ka.
In death let me be counted thine and chaste.
Pas.
Heauens graunt, being dead my soule may liue nie thee
Ka.
One kisse shal giue thee mine eternally.
Pas.
In faire exchaunge vouchsafe my hart to take.
Ka.
With all my mind, weare this Ned for my sake,
But now no more, bright day malings our loue,
Farewell, yet stay, but tis no matter too,
My Father knowes I thinke, what must ensue.
Adieu, yet harke, nay faith, adieu, adiew.
Pas.
Peace to thy passions, till next enterview.
Exeunt.
Enter Mamon, and Mounsier Iohn fo de King.
Mam.
Now Mounsieur be but confident, and hold
There is the price of blood, this way he comes,
Strike home bold arme, and thou shalt want no crowns.
Moun.
Feare you noting, when he is die, me bring you word.
Exit Mamon.
Hee, by gor braue crowne, braue monney,
Me haue here a patent to take vp, one, two, treescore
Vench: fine Crowne, fine vench, vnreasonably fine,
Dis monney is my baude. Me send a French crowne
To fetch a fine vench, de French crowne fetch de
Fine vench, de fine vench take de French crowne,
And giue me de French poc. Hee excellent, you see
Mee kill a man, you see mee hang like de Burgullian,
Hee no poine: Hee by Gor, mee haue much vitt,
[Page]Ang me much bald, and me ang much bald wit.
Here come de Gentleman metre Pasquill.
Enter Pasquill.
Pasquill.
Ist possible that sisters should so thwart
In natiue humours? one's as kind and fayre,
As constant, vertuous, and as debonayre,
As is the heart of goodnesse: the other, proud,
Inconstant, fantasticke, and as vaine in loues,
As trauellers in lies: blest Katherine,
Camelia's not thy sister, if she bee,
Shees basterd to the sweetes that shine in thee.
Moun.
Boniour Metre Pasquill, sance Iest, me am hired to kill you, Mounsieur Mamon, Messier: Iounck, Iounck, giue me money to stab you, but me know there is a God that hate bloud, derfore, me no kil, me know dere is a vench, that loue Crowne, derefore me keepe de money.
Pas.
Vnhallowed villaine, that with gold and bloud, Thinkes that almighty loue can be withstood.
Hold Mounsieur, there are more Crownes, onely do this, returne to Mamon, tell him the deed is done, and bring him hither, that he may vainely triumph in my bloud, I haue some painting which I found by chaunce in loose Camelias chamber, with that Ile staine my breast, go and returne with speed.
Moun.
Hee, by gor I smell a rat, me flie, me flie, by gor.
Exit Mounsieur.
Pas.
Leaud miscreant, that through the throat of hel,
Wouldst mount to heauen, and enioy loue,
Invaluably pretious: no rancke churle,
Thou wast not made to slauer her faire lips
With thy dead rewmy chops, nor clip her waste,
With thy shrunke bloudlesse arme, I heare him come.
Now Pasquill faigne, ô thou eternall light,
[Page]Mourne that thy creatures should in bloud delight.
He lies downe, and faines himselfe dead.
Enter Mamon and Mounsieur.
Mam.
Now smug fac'd boy, now nibble on her lips,
Now sippe the deawe of her delitious breath.
Stinke, rot, damne, bake in thy cluttered bloud,
Snakes, Toads, and Earwigs, make thy skull their neast,
Ingendring deaw-wormes, cling orethwart thy breast.
Moun.
Hush, hush, leaue praying for dead, tis no good
Caluianisme, puritanisme. Dissemble, here are company.
Exit Moun.
Enter Bra. Sig. and Planet.
Bra. Sig.
Good morrow Sir, who lies there murdred?
Mam.
Oh Gentlemen, the kindest vertuous youth
That e're adorned London. Damned theeues
To spoile such hopes: the last words that he spake,
Sticks still within the hollow of mine eare.
Katherine quoth he, hold M. Mamon deare,
I know not what he meant, but so he said.
If that you passe to Hygate, tell the Knight,
P [...]squill is sunke into eternall night.
Pla.
Faith twas a good youth, come Brabant, come aaway.
Exeunt Brabant and Planet.
Mam.
Dead Kate, dead Kate, dead is the boy,
That kept rich Mamon from his ioy.
Mamon sings. Lantara, &c. Pasquill riseth, and striketh him.
Mam.
Oh the diuell, the ghost of Pasquill, I am dead, if you haue any curtesie in you, beleeue it. I beleeu'd you when you faign'd, beleeue me now, for I am almost dead, numbd vp with feare, giue faith sweete gentle youth.
Pas.
Old wretch, amend thy thoughts, purge, purge, repent,
Ile hide thy vlcer, be but penitent.
Exit.
Ha, I think twas but his ghost that swept along.
Enter Mounsier singing.
Grand sot Mamō, Pho, phy, phy, phy, a foutra pour vos chūck, chunck. Iohn fo de King, teach you a ding, Iohn fo de King graund Sot, Sot, Sot.
Exit Mounsieur.
Ma.
Death, plague, and hell, how is curst Mamō vext?
Scourgde with the whip of sharpe derision:
Ile home, and starue, this crosse, this peeuish hap,
Strikes dead my spirits like a thunderclap.
Exit Mamon.
Enter Brabant Iunior, and Planet.
Bra.
Gods pretious, I forgot to bring my Page,
To breathe some Dittie in my Mistris eare.
Pla.
Wouldst haue a Ballet to salute her with?
Bra.
No, but a Song. How wouldst thou court thy Mistresse?
Pla.
Why with the world, the flesh & the diuel.
Bra.
Right dog, well thoult sweare, that I am blest
Beyond infinitie of happinesse,
When thou beholdest admired Camelia.
Pla.
And God wold blesse me with 3. such mistresses,
I would giue two of them to the diuel, that hee would take the third.
Bra.
Oh when she clips, and clings about my necke,
And suckes my soule forth with a melting kisse.
Pla.
Doth she vse thee so kindly then, ha?
Bra.
O I, and calls me deare, deare Brabant, and (ô Iesu God)
I cannot expresse her sweets of entertaine,
Sheele so insinuate with chaste amorous speech,
And play the wanton with such pretie grace,
And vowes loue to me: Oh I'le make thee madde
To see how gratious Brabant's in her eye.
Here is her window, marke but when I call,
How swift she comes, and with what kind salutes
[Page]She welcomes me. What ho
Camelia? Faith youle be tane vp, what in bed so late?
Winifride lookes from aboue.
Pla.
And you take her vp Brabant, sheele take you downe.
Bra.
Hart they heare not: My Camelia wake?
Wini.
What harsh vnciuil tongue keeps such a coile?
Bra.
Winifride tis I. Tell my sweet Duck I am here,
Now marke Ned Planet, now obserue her well.
Wini.
Shee wonders at your rudenesse that intrudes
Vpon the quiet of her mornings rest,
And shee's amaz'de, that with such impudence
You dare presume to intimate some loue to her,
As if she knew you more then for a youth,
A yonger brother, and a stipendary.
Enter Iohn Ellis.
Pla.
Now mark Ned Planet, now obserue her kindnes.
Good morrow M. Iohn.
Ellis.
As the Countrey mayd crieth to her Cowe to milke her, or as the Trauailer knocketh with his Hostes for a reckning, euen so do I call to thee ô Mistris.
Camelia from her window.
Came.
Sweet Iohn my Loue, heer's thy Camelia:
Hold weare this fauour, with this kisse vppont.
Bra.
Flesh and blood cannot beare such disgrace.
Brabant beates Ellis.
El.
Helpe, helpe, helpe, helpe, he boxes mee that hee doth. Helpe, helpe.
Enter Sir Edward, Katherine, Drum, and Twedle.
Sir Ed.
What outrage haue we here so early vp?
Sir you do wrong the quiet of my house.
Enter Camelia.
I faith you do, and tis but rudely done,
Go too tis not. Is this a place to brawle?
And please thee knight, I'le tell thee faith & troth.
Came.
What did he strike thee sweet?
El.
I in good deed law, and a my conscience, I thinke he hath made my nose bleede.
Came.
And would not you draw your weapon out, and to it lustily, as long as you could stand?
El.
I do not vse to drawe.
Ca.
Did he giue thee a box on the eare, and wouldst thou take it?
El.
And he be such a foole to giue it me, why should not I be so wise as to take it.
Ca.
Pure honestie, kinde Ducke, kisse me sweet Iohn.
Bra. Iu.
Hart Sir Edward, will you suffer this?
Now on my life she is enamord on the fooles bable.
Sir Ed.
Go too sir boy forbear, you wrong my Loue,
And you forget your selfe to vse such Iests,
Such nastie rybauldry vpon my daughter:
I tell you M. Brabant, doth she loue
Any that meriteth the name of man?
Bra. Iu.
Why hee's no man, but a very—
S. Ed.
Well, well, no more; my house, my self, my loue,
Opens their hearts with liberall imbrace
To entertaine your presence: I or any mans
So they'le be ciuile, modest, not prophane,
Not like to those that make it their chiefe grace,
To be quite graceles.
Pla.
Well said honest knight,
We haue had blood enough to day alreadie:
Ned Pasquil's slaine by bloodie murdering Rogues.
Sir Ed.
Speak softly, God forbid, my daughter heares,
Tell me the circumstance, I pray you Sir.
Ka.
Eternall death vnto my happinesse,
My Pasquil slaine? Oh God, oh God, oh God.
Exit Katherin, tearing her haire.
I, and I thinke the Vsurer made a Tent
Euen of his nose it was so red and neere:
Sir Ed.
God for his mercy, what mischance is heere?
A good youth, a vertuous modest youth,
I faith he was. And I can tell your sir,
My daughter Katherine, where is she now?
Whithers she gone? Drum call her hither straite.
Drum.
Your Drum wil sound a call sir presently.
Exit Drum.
Sir Ed.
And as I told you sir, my daughter Katherine
Affected him right dearly: by my peace of soule,
If he had liu'd, I could haue hartily wisht
He had bene my sonne in lawe, I faith I could:
But see the will of God. How now Drum,
Where's my daughter?
Drum.
Sir, she is either inuisible, or deafe, for I can neither see her, nor she heare mee.
Sir Ed.
Boddie of mee, my heart misgiues me now,
Looke, call, search, run all about.
My daughter gone? Go all and search her out.
Heer's Pasquil ha? Is this the man thats dead?
Enter Pasquil.
Pas.
Let me intreat this fauour, do not search
Or be inquisitiue why I fain'de:
Repute me worthie your better censure: and thus think
My cause was vrgent, the rest lie buried.
Sir Ed.
Well, I would you had not fainde.
Pas.
Why would you haue had me dead indeed?
Sir Ed.
Oh no, but I haue lost my child I feare,
By your strange faining, she no sooner heard
The tydings of your death, but gone she was,
And God knowes whither. Ha what newes now?
Enter Drum.
Tis easier to finde wit in ballating, honestie in Brokers, Virginitie in Shordich, then to heare of my Mistresse.
Sir Ed.
Broach me a fresh Butt of Canary Sacke,
Lets sing, drink, sleep, for thats the best reliefe:
To drowne all care, and ouerwhelme all griefe.
Powre Wine, sound Musick, let our bloods not freeze,
Drinke Duch like gallants, lets drinke vpsey freeze.
Exeunt Sir Edward, Planet, Brabant, Drum & Twedle.
Came.
Seruant youle go in too, and stay dinner?
El.
I in truthe, for as the Itch is augmented
By scratching, so is my loue by seeing my mistresse.
Exeunt Camelia and Ellis.
Pas.
How's this, how's this, My Katherin gone hence?
Sences awake, and thou amazed soule
Vnwinde thy selfe from out the Labyrinth
Of gaping wonder, and astonishment.
My Katherine departed? how? which way?
Foole, foole, stand not debating, but pursue
Haste to her comfort, for from thee doth spring
(Wretch that thou art) her cause of sorrowing.
Exit.
Enter a Page solus.
Page.
Ha, ha, ha, tipsie, tipsie, tipsie, all turnd whirlegig, Iohn fo de king, Drum, and Timothy Twedle, are rare fine, ha for the heauens, Ifaith: Drums Lyon drunk, and he dings the pottes about, crackes the glasses, swaggers with his owne shadow. Honest Timothy is Mawdelin drunke, and he weepes for kindnesse, and kisses the hilts of Iacke Drums Dagger. Mounsieurs Goat drunke, and he [Page] shrugges, and skrubbes, and hees it for a wench. Heere they come reeling, I must packe, or we shall swagger, for they hauing a cracke in their heades, and I afault in my hands, we shall nere agree.
Exit.
Enter Drum, Mounsieur, and Twedle.
Drum.
A Seruingman quoth you? Hart, and if I serue any thats flesh and blood, would I might ne're taste my liquore more: stand bare whilest hee makes water, out vppont, Ile to Ireland, and there Ile Tan, ran, ty, ry, dan, Sa, sa, sa, sa: Nay tis the onely life.
Twe.
Nay good Thewte hart, good kind Iack, stay, if you would loue mee, as I loue you, we would liue & die together: and please God, would I were dead, and you are gone. And heeres M. Iohn so de king, a verie honest man too.
Drum.
I, I, hee's a verie good honest man: for theres not a haire betwixt him and heauen.
Twe.
Heele liue with vs now & teach vs French.
Moun.
I by my trot, ang you helpe mee to a Vench now, mee teach you French. 5. towsand, towsand yere, ô your Secke is hote, and make mee brule, and brule, and burne, for a (hee) by gor your Seck is hote.
Enter Winifride.
Drum.
Welcome Basilisco, thou wilt carry leuell, and knock ones braines out with thy pricking wit. Kisse me sweet wench, kisse mee.
Moun.
Hee my Vinifride, by gor you are come, in te very nick to pleasure mee, pree you kisse mee, clip mee, loue mee, or by gor mee ang die certaine.
Drum.
Out you French Dogge, touch my Loue, and Ile—
Moun.
Touch her, by gor mee touch her, and touch her, and touch her.
Ile touch you, Ile slash you, Ile vench ye.
Wini.
Put vp, put vp, for the passion of God put vp, or if youle needs too it, sheath both your weapons in mee first.
Drum.
Hart touch my loue, touch my Winifride?
Wini.
Hark you Iacke, come to my chamber an houre hence, and you shall haue what you will aske, and I can graunt.
Drum.
Why then my chollers down. Iohn fo de King. Fontra for you.
Exit Drum.
Moun.
Fontra for me, futtra, futtra, futtra, fiue towsand futtra's for you.
Twe.
Stay friend Iacke, Ile reele along with you, if youle not swagger.
Exit Twedle.
Wini.
Sweete, sweete Mounsieur, hang you slaues, I loue you infinitely.
Moun.
By gor me teach you French foure towsand yeare dan.
Wini.
Well Mounsieur, I'le giue you pleasure.
Moun.
But will you presently? quickly, for by gor me am a hot shot.
Wini.
I so they say, I heard you were vnder the Torred zone last day.
Moun.
Pish tis no matter, me am like a Tabacco Pipe, de more me am burne, de cleaner me am.
Wini.
Well then, two houres hence come to my chamber, and Timothy Twedle shall giue you mee in a sacke.
Moun.
In a sacke? Ha very well.
Wini.
And you shall carrie me to my Maisters house at Holloway, for in the house we cannot be priuate without suspect. Till then, farewell.
Exit Winifride.
By my trot vnreasonablie good, I carrie de vench on my backe, and devench carie me on her (hee) fine backe, fine vench, fine Mounsieur, fine, fine, fine Knight, all fine, vnreasonablie fine, me sing vor ioy; by gor me sing la, liro, liro la, lilo.
Exit.
Enter Brabant Signior, Brabant Iunior, and Planet.
Bra Sig.
Gentlemen, as e're you lou'd wench, obserue M. Puffe and me.
Bra. Iu.
What shall we obserue you for?
Bra. Sig.
Oh for our complement.
Pla.
Complement, whats that?
Bra. Sig.
Complement, is as much as (what call you it) tis deriued of the Greeke word, a pox ont.
Pla.
Complement, is as much as what call you it, tis deriued of the Greeke word, a pox ont.
Enter Puffe.
Bra. Sig.
You shall see M. Puffe and me tosse it, Ifaith marke with what grace I encounter him.
Pla.
Hart thy brother's like the Instrument the Merchants sent ouer to the great Turke: you need not play vpon him, heele make musicke of himselfe, and hee bee once set going.
Bra. Sig.
M. Puffe, I long to do faire seruice to your loue.
Puffe.
Most accomplisht wit, exquisitly accoutred, (Puffe) Iudgement, I could wish my abilitie worthie your seruice, and my seruice worthie your abilitie.
Pla.
By the Lord fustian, now I vnderstand it: complement is as much as fustian.
Bra. Sig.
I protest your abilities are infinite, your perfections matchlesse, your matchlesse perfection infinite in abilitie, and your infinite abilitie, matchlesse in perfection.
Good againe, reioyce Brabant, thy brother will not liue long, he talkes Idlely alreadie.
Puff.
Delicious spirit, disparage not your courtesie, stand not bare to him that was borne to honor you.
Bra. Sig.
Let vs presse our haires then, with an vniforme consent.
Puff.
The pressure of my haires, or the puncture of my heart, standes at the seruice of your [...]ollide perfections: my life is bound to your loue, your loue being my life, tho my life bee not worthie your loue, your perfection is the center to which all the paralels of my affection are drawne: your loue my life, your perfection, my affection, being—
Pla.
Your Asse, my Foole.
Puff.
Being chainde by the mightie coplet of ineuitable destenie, who seeth the sunne, but hee must adore it: who seeth beautie, but he must honour it: who vieweth gold, but he must couet it: then, (ô then) who can behold your sun-like beauteous golden beauties, but he must more then adore, much more then honour, and most infinitely loue to be out, out, out.
Bra. Iu.
Out he is indeed.
Pla.
Hee's at a stand, like a restie Iade, or a Fidler, whē he hath crackt his Minikin.
Puff.
Outragiously addicted to the worthie pursuite of such matchlesse worth.
Bra. Sig.
Sir, I can rest but truly thankfull, for your more then good conceit of my no lesse then litle worth. And now fir for the consequent houres of the day; how stands your intencion for imployment?
Puff:
I ha tane my leaue of Sir Edward, bid adiew to loue, my Mistresse is gone, my humour is spent, my ioyes are at an end, and therefore Gentlemen, I leaue [Page] loue, and fall to the (puffe) Lawe, I will interre my selfe in Ploydens Coffin, and take an eternall Conge of the world. And so sweete gallants farewell.
Exit.
Bra. Sig.
Nay Ile follow you to your graue. Gentlemen youle not accompany the coarse?
Exit.
Pla.
No, no, looke Ned Brabant, yons a pleasing obiect for thy eyes.
Enter Camelia, Ellis, and Winifride.
Bra. Iu.
My Mistresse is turnde Bucephalus, no bodie must ride her but Alexander: no bodie kisse her but Iohn Ellis. Now stand and list good Planet.
Ca.
Come sweetest Loue, lets giue time pleasing wing,
What shall we make some purposes or sing?
El.
I will sing, so you will beare my burthen.
Ca.
Come laie thy head then in my virgin lappe,
And with a soft sleeke hand Il'e clappe thy cheeke,
And wring thy fingers with an ardent gripe:
Ile breathe amours, and euen intraunce thy spirit,
And sweetly in the shade lie dallying.
The Song.
Now dally sport and play, This merry month of May,
This is the merry, mery month, Sweet time for dallying:
The Birds sit chirping, chirping, The Doues sit billing, billing,
Phillip is treading, is treading, is treading, is treading, is treading,
All are to pleasures willing.
You that are faire and wittie, Obserue this easie Dittie,
And leaue not Natures Natures blisse; Do not refuse to kisse.
The Birds sit chirping, chirping, The Doues sit billing, billing,
Phillip is treading, is treading, &c.
Bra. Iu.
Death I can holder: Life of loue
[Page]Amazing bewtie, let not me seeme rude,
Tho thus I seeme to square with modestie.
El.
Pray you let me go, for heele begin to square, And euen as some doo weare Muffes for warmth, some for wantonnesse, some for pride, some for neither, but to hide gowtie fingers, so will I get your Fathers consent, and marry you. Fare you well.
Exit.
Came.
Sir it were good you got a benefice,
Some Evenuch'd Vicaridge, or some Fellowship,
To prop vp your weake yonger brothership.
Match with your equalls, dare not to aspier
My seate of loue, I wis Sir, I looke higher.
Bra. Iu.
Astonishment of Nature, be not proud
Of Forunes bounties: Brabant is a man,
Tho not so clogd with durt as others are:
I do confesse my yonger brothership;
Yet therein laie no such disparagement
As your high scorne imputes vnto my worth.
Coach Iades and Dogges, are coupled still together,
Only for outward likenes, growth and strength,
But the bright models of eternitie,
Are ioind together for affection,
Which in the soule is form'de. Oh let this moue,
Loue should make mariage, and not mariage Loue.
Pla.
Wooe her no more Brabant, thou'lt make her proud,
You Duch Ancient why should you looke higher?
His births as good as yours, and so's his face:
Put off your Iengle, Iangles, and be not as faire,
He shall renounce it, fore this Audience,
Put off your cloathes, and you are like a Banbery cheese,
Nothing but paring: why should you be proud,
And looke on none but Weathercocks forsooth?
O you shall haue a thousand pound a yeare!
[Page]Bar Ladie thats a bumming sound. But harke,
Wilt therefore be a slaue, vnto a slaue,
One thats a bound Rogue vnto Ignorance?
Well thou'lt serue to make him gellide broaths,
And scratch his head, and may be now and then
Heele slauer thee a kisse. Plague on such mariages.
Came.
Rudevnciuile Clowne.
Pla.
Tut raile not at me, turn your eie vpō the leprosie of your own iudgement, loath it, hate it, scorn it, and loue this yong Gentleman, who is a Foole in nothing but in louing thee: madde in nothing but affecting thee: and curst in eternitie if he marry thee.
Ca.
Sir you ha spoke exceeding pleasingly,
For which I loue you, as I loue a dull dead eye.
Brabant I do coniure thee Court not mee,
Do not presume to loue or fancie mee.
Bra. Iu.
How not presume to loue or fancie you?
Hart, I will loue you, by this light I will
Whether you will or no, I'le loue you still.
Spight of your teeth I will your loue pursue,
I will by heauen, and so sweet soule adieu.
Exit Bra. Iunior.
Ca.
Farewell, and neuer view my face againe.
Exit Camelia.
Pla.
Harke you faire Winifride, sweet gentle maide,
I haue but fained with you all this while,
I doate vpon the sweet Camelia,
And if your fauour will but second me,
I vowe when I shall wed Camelia,
To indowe you with a hundred pound a yeare,
And what I haue shall stand at your commaund.
Win.
Sir I wil vndertake to forward your faire loue,
So you'le remember what you here do vowe.
If I forget it, heauen forget mee:
Do you but praise me, let not her once know
I loue, or do affect her for the world.
Wini.
Well feare no rubbes, farwell faire bounteous Sir.
Exit Winifride.
Pla.
It workes, it workes, magnificent delight,
Laughter, triumph, for ere the Sume godowne,
Thy forehead shall be wreath'd, with pleasures crowne.
Exit Planet.
Enter Pasquil at one doore, and his Page at the other.
Pas.
Now my kinde Page, canst thou nor heare, nor see,
Which way my Katherine hath bent her steppes?
Page.
Sir I can.
Pas.
What canst thou my sweet Page?
What canst thou Boy?
Oh how my soule doth burne in longing hope,
And hangs vpon thy lippes for pleasing newes.
Page.
Sir I can tell ye.
Pas.
What▪ ô how my hart doth quake & throb with feare.
Page.
Sir I can tell you nothing of her in good faith.
Pas.
Oh thou hast tortur'de me with lingring hope,
Go haste away, flie from the pestilence
Of my contagious griefe, it will infect thee boy,
Murder thy youth, and poison thy lifes ioy.
Run search out Katherine, in her eies dwell
Heauens of ioy; but in Pasquil hell.
Oh thou omnipotent, infinitie,
Crack not the sinewes of my patience
With racking torment: Insist not thus to scourge
My tender youth with sharpe affliction,
If I do loue that glorie of thy hand,
That rich Idea of perfection,
With any lustfull or prophane intent,
[Page]Crost be my loue, murdred be all my hopes:
But if with chaste and vertuous arme I clip
The rarest modell of thy workemanship,
Be then propitious: ô eternall light,
And blesse my fortunes, maugre hellish spight.
Enter Katherine in a petticoate.
Ka.
Black sorrow, nurse of plaints, of teares, & grones,
Evaporate my spirit with a sigh,
That it may hurrey after his sweete breath,
Who made thee doate on life, now hunt for death.
Pas.
What soule is that, that with her teare-full eies
Seemes to lament with me in miseries?
Ka.
Here seemes to be the pressure of his truncke,
Deare earth confirme my doubt, was this the place
Which the faire bodie of my Pasquil prest,
When he laie murdred? See the drooping grasse
Hangs downe his mourning head, and seemes to say
This was the fatall place, where Pasquil lay.
Oh thou sweet print, stampt by the fairest limbes,
The richest Coffin of the purest soule
That euer prest the bosome of the earth,
First drinke my teares, and next sucke vp my blood.
Now thou immortall spirit of my Loue,
Thou pretious soule of Pasquil view this knife
Which once thou gauest me, and prepare thy arme
To clip the spirit of thy constant Loue.
Deare Ned I come, by death I will be thine,
Since life denies it to poore Katherine.
She offers to stabbe her selfe.
Pas.
Hold, hold, thou miracle of constancie,
First let heauen perish, and the crazde world runne
Into first Chaos of confusion,
Before such cruell violence be done
[Page]To her faire breast, whose fame by vertue wonne,
Shall honour women whilste there shines a sunne.
Kathe.
Thrice sacred spirit, why dost thou forsake
Elizeum pleasures, to withhold the arme
Of wretched Katherine? Oh let me die,
Retire sweete Ghoast, do not pollute thy hand
With touch of mortalls.
Pas.
Amazement of thy Sex, Pasquill doth liue,
And liues to loue thee in eternitie.
Be not agast, recouer spirit, (Sweete)
Tis Pasquill speakes, tis Pasquill clips thy waste,
Tis Pasquill prints a kisse on thy faire hand.
Ka.
What do I dreame? or haue I drawne the sluce
Of life vp? and through streames of bloud
Vnfelt, haue set my prisoned soule at large?
Am I in heauen? or in Pasquills Armes?
I am in heauen, for my Neds embrace
Is Katherines long wish'd celestiall place.
Pas.
Diuinitie of sweetnesse, I protest,
If these inferiour Orbs were rowled vp,
And the imperiall heauen bar'd to my view,
Twere not so gracious, nor so much desir'd,
As my deare Katherine is to Pasquills sight.
Ka.
Heauen of Content, Paphos of my delight.
Pas.
Mirrour of Constancie, life-bloud of loue.
Ka.
Center to whom all my affections moue.
Pas.
Renown of Virgins, whose fame shal ne're fleet.
Ka.
Oh I am maz'd with ioy, I pree thee sweete,
Vnfold to me, what sad mischaunce it was,
Forc'd thy deaths rumour, and such woes disperc'd?
Sad sorrow past, delights to be rehearsed.
Pas.
It will be tedious, but in breefe thinke thus,
Old Mamons malice was the venombd foame,
[Page]That poisoned all the sweets of our content.
Kathe.
Alas deare heart, that loue should be so crost.
Now good Ned fetch my gowne, tis at yon house,
I would be loth to turne to Hygate thus.
Pas.
I am oblig'de with infinit respect, to do you seruice.
Oh power diuine, was euer such a loue as Katherine?
Ent. Ma.
Looke Mamon, search Mamon, this way shee went,
Put on thy spectacles, this way she went:
Blest, blest, blest, be thy natiuitie,
Yonder she sits, Ile either haue her now,
Or none shall e're enioy her with content.
Ka.
How loues impatient, when will Ned returne?
Ma.
Tut, tis no matter when, looke where thy Mamō is.
Ka.
Good diuel, for Gods sake do not vexe my sight:
Didst not thou plot the death of my deare Loue?
Ma.
Yes, yes, and wold complot ten thousand deaths,
Euen damne my soule, for beauteous Katherine.
My ship shall kemb the Oceans curled backe
To furnish thee with braue Abiliaments,
Rucks of rich Pearle, and sparkling Diamonds
Shall fringe thy garments with Imbroadry:
Thy head shall blaze as bright with Orient stone,
As did the world being burnt by Phaeton.
Ka.
You make me death, for pitties sake forbeare:
Oh when will Pasquil come? Good Sir depart.
When wilt returne? I pray you Sir goe hence,
And troth, I will not hate you: nay I'le speake
Against my heart, and say I loath you not.
You vexe my patience, gentle sir forbeare,
I begge it on my knee, and with a teare.
Mam.
Tut will you loue me, and detest yon boy?
Ka.
Heauen detest me first, and loathe my soule.
Mam.
Is it your finall resolution?
God knowes it is. So good Sir rest content.
Mam.
I, I will rest, and thou shalt rest thus blur'd,
Thus poysond; venomde with this oyle of Toades:
If Mamon cannot get thee, none shall ioy
Which he could not enioy. I feare no lawe,
Gold in the firmest conscience makes a flawe.
Rot like to Helen: Spittle hence, adiew,
Let Pasquil boast in your next interview.
Ka.
Be pittifull and kill me gentle Sir.
Heauen my heart is crackt with miserie:
Where shall I hide me? which way shall I cleanse
The eating poyson of this venomde oyle?
Poore wretch (alas) see where thy Pasquil comes.
Pas.
Here Loue put on your gown. How now? good God,
Heauē giue me patiēce: who hath vs'd thee thus?
Ka.
The diuel in the shape of Mamon. Sweet
Touch me not. Pasquil I coniure thee now
By all the power of affection,
By that strickt bond of loue that lincks our hearts,
Leaue and abandon me eternally.
I merit now no loue, yet prethee sweet,
Vouchsafe to giue me leaue to loue thee still.
But I do binde thee by thy sacred vowe
Of our once happie, and thrice blessed loue,
Follow not Katherine: good Ned, doo not greeue,
In time iust heauen may our woes releeue.
Exit Katherine.
Pas. fureus.
O dira fata, saeua, miseranda, horida
Quis hic Locus? quae Regio? quae Mundi plaga?
Vbi sum? Katherina, Katherina, Eheu Katherina.
Enter Mamon.
Mam.
My Spectacles will betraie mee, looke
Mamon, search Mamon, here abouts they fell.
Welcome Erra Pater, you that make Prognostications for euer. Where's you Almanacke?
Pulles his Indentures out of Mamons bosome.
Ma.
Lorde blesse my Obligations, Lorde blesse my bonds, Lord blesse my Obligations. Alas, alas, alas.
Pas.
Let me see sir now, when will true valour be at the full? Oh theres an opposition tis eclipsed, Venus, I Venus is mounted. Wheres the Goat now? Kembd, fine kemd. Oh heere are Dog daies, out vpont Dog dayes, Dog dayes, Dog dayes, out vpont.
He teares the Papers.
Mam.
Alas my Obligations, my Bonds, my Obligations, my Bonds. Alas, alas, alas.
Pas.
Katherina, Katherina, Ehew Katherina.
Exit Pasquil.
Mam.
Obligations, Obligations: Alas my Obligations, I am vndone, vndone, vndone.
Enter Flawne.
Flawne.
Sir, Sir, Sir.
Mam.
What sir you for, you Dog, you Hounde, you
Crust, whats best newes with you now? Out-alas my
Obligations, my Bonds, I am vndon, vndon.
Flawne.
Sir, the best newes is, your ship (the Hopewell) hath hapt ill, returning from Barbary. Tis but sunk, or so, not a scrap of goods sau'de.
Mam.
Villaines, Rogues, Iewes, Turkes, Infidels, my nose will rot off with griefe. O the Gowt, the Gowt, the Gowt, I shall run mad, run mad, run mad.
Flawne.
Amen, amen, amen. But theres other newes to comfort you withall sir.
Mam.
Lets heare them good Flawne. My shippe, my bonds, my bondes, my ship, I shall run mad vnlesse thy good newes reclaime mee. Lets heare thy newes.
Your house with all the furniture is burnt, not a ragge left, the people stand warming their handes at the fire, and laugh at your miserie.
Mam.
I defie heauen, earth and hell, renounce my nose, plague, pestilence, confusion, famine, sworde and fire, deuoure all, deuoure me, deuoure Flawne, deuoure all: bondes, house, and ship, ship, house, and bondes, Dispaire, Damnation, Hell, I come, I come, so roome for Mamon, roome for Vsury, roome for thirtie in the hundred. I come, I come, I come.
Exit Mamon.
Flawne.
Why me thinkes this is right now, Ile euen laie him vp in Bedlame, commit him to the mercie of the whip, the entertainment of bread and water, and the the sting of a Vsurers Conscience for euer.
Exit Flawne.
Enter Drum and Winifride.
Drum.
Truly Mistresse Winifride, as I would be willing to be thankfull, and thankfull to finde you willing to prostrate your faire partes to my pleasure, so I hope you will remember your promise, and promise what you now remember, if you haue forgot, I would be glad to put you in minde of it.
Wini.
Truly friend Iohn, as I would be loth to breake my promise, so I would be vnwilling to keepe my word to the dishonesting of my virginitie. Marry for a nights lodging or so, I wil not be strait lac'd to my friend. Therfore thus it must be. To night I must lie at the Farme at Holloway, thither shall you be conueyed in this Sacke, & laid in my chamber, from whence you shall haue free accesse to the pleasures of my priuate bed.
Well then bee constant Winifride, and you shall finde me faithfull Iacke Drum: and so taking leaue of your lippes, I betake me to the tuition of the Sacke.
Enter Twedle.
Exit Drum.
Twe.
Winifride my Mistresse Camelia staies for you to attend her to the Greene, I must go and clap my Tabers cheekes there, for the heauens Ifaith.
Wini.
Stay a little heere, and if Iohn fo de king come, giue him that Sack. Oh I could crack my Whalebones, breake my Buske, to think what laughter may arise from this.
Exit Winifride.
Enter Mounsieur.
Moun.
By my trot, dis loue is a most cleanly Ientleman, he is very full of shifte, de fine Vench, can inuent ten towsand, towsand trick to kisse a men (hee) see by gor she ha keepe her word, she is in de seck alreadie, hee, braue by gor, my blood das sparkle in my veine for ioy. Metre Timotty you must giue me dat seck dere.
Timo.
Owy da Mounsieur, that is well pronounced is it not?
Moun.
Ritt, ritt, ritt, excellan: excellan: adew Timothy, me am almost burst for ioy.
Exit Mounsieur.
Twe.
Well, I know what the Wenches on the green are saying now, as well as if I were in their bellies, when will Timothy come, when wil honest Timothy approach, when will good Timothy drawe neare? Well Wenches now reioyce, for Timothy Twedle doth come.
Exit Twedle.
Enter Pla. Bra. Sig. and Bra. Iunior.
Bra. Iu.
Brother how like you of our moderne witts?
How like you the new Poet Mellidus?
Bra. Sig.
A slight bubling spirit, a Corke, a Huske.
How like you Musus fashion in his carriage?
Bra. Sig.
O filthily, he is as blunt as Pawles.
Bra. Iu.
What thinke you of the Lines of Decius?
Writes he not a good cordiall sappie stile?
Bra. Sig.
A surreinde Iaded wit, but a rubbes on.
Pla.
Brabant thou art like a paire of Ballance,
Thou wayest all sauing thy selfe.
Br. Sig.
Good faith, troth is, they are all Apes & gulls,
Vile imitating spirits, dry heathy Turffes.
Bra. Iu.
Nay brother, now I thinke your iudgement erres.
Pla.
Erre, he cannot erre man, for children & fooles speake truthe alwaies.
Enter Mounsieur with a Sacke, and Iack Drum in it.
Bra. Sig.
See who comes yonder sweating with a pack.
Pla.
Mounsieur, what do you beare there ha?
Moun.
Pree you away, you breake my glasses der, Ieshu, now mee know not what to doe, Zot dat I was to come dis way widd dem.
Pla.
Glasses you salt rheume, come what ha you there?
Moun.
Trike no more for Ieshu sake, by gor mee haue brittle vare, if you knock it, it will break presant, pre you adieu.
Br. Iu.
We must know whats in the bag Ifaith.
Moun.
By my trot, mee tell you true, will you no trike meden?
Bra. Iu.
No faith, but see you tell vs true, or else.
Moun.
Or els, or els by gor, do wat you please wid me: Sweet Vinifride, my verie art dus vurst, he by gor, me did not dink to vrong yow dus: come out sweet Vinifrid, me much discredit yow.
He Iack Drum. Iesu vat made you dere?
Drum.
Gentlemen my M. desires you to come supp with him, I was sent to inuite you, and this itching goat, would needs ease my legges & carry me: I hope you'le [Page] come, and so I take my leaue. I, I am guld, but if I quit her not, well.
Exit Drum.
Bra. Sig.
Come, there's some knot of knauery in this tricke.
Pla.
His culler is not currant, wel, let passe.
Bra. Sig.
Come Mounsieur, come, Ile helpe you to a
Go downe the hill before, Ile follow you. Wench,
Moun.
Me dank you: Mor deu, he mo [...] a mee, me ame trooke dead wit greife, de cock of my humore is downe, and me may hang my selfe vor a Vench.
Exit Moun.
Bra. Sig.
Gentlemen will you laugh hartily now?
Pla.
I, and if thou wilt play the foole kindly now.
Bra. Sig.
I wil strait frame the strongest eternall Iest
That e're was builded by Inuention:
My wife lies verie priuate in the Towne,
I'le bring the French man to her presently,
As to a loose lasciuious Curtezan:
Nor he, nor you, nor she, shall know the rest,
But it shall be immortall for a Iest.
Exit Bra. Sig.
Bra. Iu.
Farwel brother, we shal meet at Hygate soone.
Pla.
The wicked Iest be turnde on his owne head,
Pray God he may be kindly Cuckoled.
Exeunt both.
Enter Camelia and Winifride.
Came.
Carry this fauour to my Ellis straight,
I long to see him, preethe bid him come.
Wini.
I would be loth to nourish your defame,
And therefore Mistresse pray you pardon me.
Came.
What is thy iudgement of my Ellis chandge?
Wini.
No that is firme: but your estate is changde.
You know your sister's straungely vanished,
And now the hope and revenue of all,
[Page]Calls you his sole, and faire apparant heire:
Now therefore would I haue you chaunge your loue.
Indeed I yeeld tis moderne policie,
To kisse euen durt that plaisters vp our wants.
I'le not denie, tis worthy wits applause,
For women on whom lowring Fortune squints,
And casts but halfe an eye of due respect,
To pinne some amorous Idiot to their eyes,
And vse him as they vse their Looking-glasse,
See how to adorne their beauties by his wealth,
And then case vp the foole and lay him by.
But for such Ladies as your selfe is now,
Whose fortunes are sustaind by all the proppes
That gracious Fortune can aduance you with,
For such a one to yoake her free sweet youth
Vnto a Lowne, a Dane-like barbarous Sot,
A guilden Trunchion, fie, tis slauish vile.
Oh what is richer then content in loue?
And will you now hauing so huge a Ruck
Of heap'd vp fortunes, goe and chaine your selfe
To a dull post, whose verie eies will blaze
His base bred spirit, where so e're he comes,
And shame you with the verie name of wife.
No Mistris, no, I haue found out a man
That merits you, if man can merit you.
Came.
Lord what a tide of hate comes creeping on
Vpon my former iudgement? Come, the man?
Wini.
The man? (oh God) the man is such a man,
That he is matchlesse: oh, I shall prophane
His name, with vnrespected vtterance.
Ca.
Oh thou tormentst me, deare Winifride the man?
Wi.
By the sweet pleasures of an amorous bed,
I thinke you will be deified by him.
[Page]O God the most accomplish'd man that breathes,
And Planet is the man.
Came.
Out on the diuell, th [...]res a man indeed.
Wini.
Nay looke you now, you'le straight oreshoot yourselfe,
You'le say hee's sowre and vnsociable:
Tush you know him not, that humor's forc'd:
But in his natiue spirit hee's as kinde
As is the life of loue. And then the clearest skinne,
The whitest hand, the cleanest wel shap'd legge:
The quickest eye: Fie, fie, I shall but blurre
And sulley his bright worth with my rude speech.
Came.
Well, if he court me, Ile not be much coy.
Wi.
Court you? nay you must court him for ought I know:
You must not think forsoothe, that I am feed
To vrge you thus. I solemnly protest,
I motion this out of my pure vowed loue,
Which wisheth all aduancement and content
To attend the glory of your beautious youth.
Ca.
O I am Planet stricken Winifride,
How shall I intimate my loue to him?
Wi.
I sawe him comming vp the hill euen now,
Send him a fauour, and Ile beare it to him,
And tell him you desire to speake with him.
Exit Winifride.
Ca.
Do, do, deare Winifride, sweet wench make haste.
Enter Sir Edward Fortune, and Iohn Ellis, with a Paper in his hand.
Ellis.
Sir, I haue her good will, and please you now to giue me your consent, and looke you Sir, here I haue Item'd forth what I am worth.
Sir Ed.
Tush shewe me no Items, and shee loue you, a God [...] name: Ile not bee curst by my daughter for [Page] forcing her to clip a loath'd, abhorred match: and see how fortunate we are; Looke where shee stands.
Came.
Sweet Planet, thou onely gouernst mee.
Sir Ed.
Daughter giue mee your hand, with your consent, I giue you to this Gentleman.
Ca.
Marry phoh, wil you match me to a foole?
Sir Ed.
God pardon me, not I: why M. Ellis ha?
Had you her consent, speake freely man?
El.
Indeed law now; I thought so: by my troth
You sed you lou'de me, that you did indeed.
Ca.
I as my foole, my I diot to make sport.
Sir Ed.
Fie daughter, you are too plaine with him.
Alas my sonne Similie is out of countenance.
El.
Truly as a Mill-horse, is not a horse Mill, and as a Cart Iade, is not a Iade Cart, euen so will I go hang my selfe.
Sir Ed.
Mary godforbid, what frolick, frolick man, weele haue a Cup of Sack and Sugar soone, shall quite expell these mustie humours of stale melancholy.
Enter Pasquil and a Countrey Wench, with a Basket of Egges.
Pas.
Is this the Egge where Castor and Pollux bred?
Ile crack the Bastard in the verie shell.
Coun. Mayd.
Alas my markets, my markets are cleane spoilde.
Exit Wench.
Pas.
Vbi Hellena, vbi Troia, ist not true my Ganimede,
When shall old Saturne mount his Throane againe?
See, see, alas how bleake Religion stands.
Katherina, Katherina, you damned Titanoies,
Why prick you heauens ribbes with blasphemie?
Python yet breathes, old gray hayr'd pietie.
Sir Ed.
Alas kind youth, how came he thus di [...]aught?
I left him in pursuite of Katherine,
And found him in this straunge distemperature.
Pas.
O Sir, ist you that stampe on litrature?
You are inspired you with Prophesie.
El.
Not I, as I shall be sau'd, I am M. Iohn Ellis I.
Sir Ed.
Come, come, lets intice him by some good meanes,
Ile labour to reclaime him to his witts.
O now my daughter Katherine remembers me,
Where art thou girle? heauen giue me patience.
Pas.
Poore, poore Astrea, who blurs thy orient shine?
Come yons the Capitoll of Iupiter,
Letts whip the Senate, els they will not leaue
To haue their Iustice blasted with abuse
Of flattering Sycophants. Come lets mount the Starres,
Reuerend antiquitie go you in first—
Dotage will follow. Then comes pale fac'de Lust—
Next Sodome, then Gomorha, next poore I,
By heauen my heart is burst with miserie.
Exit Pas.
Enter Brabant Signior, Mounsieur and the Page.
Moun.
I ha tell yow de very trote of the lagg Iest, by gor your England Damosells are so feere, so vittie, so kitt, by my trote shee tosse me wish vey shee please der: but pre yow were is de Vench? Is dis de house? Ha is dis de house, pre yow tell me ha?
Bra. Sig.
It is, it is, and shee is in the Inner Chamber:
Boy call her foorth.
Exit Page.
Moun.
Sings.
By gor den me must needs now sing,
Ding, ding, a ding, Ding a, ding a, ding,
For me am now at pleasures spring.
Ding a, ding, ding, ding a, ding a, ding a, ding,
And a hee da vench, da vench, da vench,
Which must my br [...]ling humor quench. Coma, coma, com.
[Page]Enter Mistresse Brabant.
Mist. Bra.
Now sweet, you kept your promise wel last night.
Moun.
By gorshe giue him much kind word already.
Bra. Sig.
Well to make thee amends, boy fetch vs a quart of Canary Sack. Pry thee Mall entertain this French Gentleman.
Mist. Bra.
Sir you are verie welcome to my Lodging.
Moun.
Me danck you, and first mee kisse your fingre, next mee busse your lip, and last mee clip your vaste, and now foutra for de Vinifride.
Page.
Sir Edwards Caterer passed by sir, you wild me to remember Lemmons.
Bra. Sig.
Gods pretious tis true: Boy goe with me to Billings-gate. Mall I'le returne straight.
Exit Bra. Sig. and his Page.
Moun.
Will yow no Vin sir, hee, he is gone purposely, by my trote most kind Gentleman. Faire Madame pree yow pittie mee, by Gor mee languish for your loue, me am a pouera French Ientleman, pree you shew me your bed-Chambre.
Mist. Bra.
What mean you sir, by this strange passion?
Moun.
Nay noting, by Gor damosell, you be so faer, so admirably feer, flesh and bloud cannot endure your countenance, mee brule, ang mee brule, ang yow ha no compassion, by gor me ang quite languish. Last night me goe to bedd, ang me put de candle behinde me, and by my trote me see cleane torough me. Me ang so drye, me put a cold plattre at my backe, and my back melt de plattre quite, do so burne. Pree you shew mee your bed Chambre, mee will be secrete constant: I loue you vnreasonably vell▪ vnreasonably vell by gor.
Mist. Bra.
In faith you make me blush, what should I say?
Say no, ang take it: Or arke you one ting, Say neder yea nor no, but take it, ang say noting.
Mist. Bra.
You will be close and secret?
Moun.
Secred, by gor as secred as your sowle, me wil tell noting, possible.
Mist. Bra.
Well Sir, if it please you to see my Chamber, tis at your seruice.
Exit Mist. Brabant.
Moun.
Hee now me ang braue Mounsieur, by gor ang me had know dis, mee woode haue eate some Potatos, or Ringoe: but vell: hee. Me will tanck Metre Brabant vor dis, by gor me am caught in heauen blisse.
Exit Mounsieur.
Enter Camelia and Winifride, hanging on Planets armes.
Ca.
Oh too vnkind, why doest thou scorne my loue?
Shee that with all the vehemence of speech
Hath bene pursued, and kneeled too for loue,
Prostrates her selfe, and all her choycest hopes,
As lowe as to thy feete, disdaine me not,
To scorne a Virgin, is mans odious blot▪
Pla.
To scorne a man, is Virgins odious blot.
Wert thou as rich as is the Oceans wombe,
As beautious as the glorious frame of heauen,
Yet would I loath thee worse then varnisht skulles,
Whose ryuels are dawbd vp with plaistering painte.
Came.
O Rockie spirit.
Pla.
Breathe not in vaine, I hate thy flatterings,
Detest thy purest elegance of speech,
Worse then I do the Croaking of a Toade.
Wini.
Sweete Gentleman.
Pla.
Peace you Rebato pinner, Poting-sticke,
Y [...] bribde corrupters of affection:
[Page]I hate you both, by heauen I hate her more
Then I do loue my selfe. Hence packe, away,
I'le sooner doate vpon a bleare-eide Witch,
A saplesse Beldame, then Ile flatter thee.
Came.
Be not too cruell sweet Planet, deare relent,
Compassionate my amorous languishment.
Pla.
Ha, ha, I pree thee kneele, beg, blubber, Cry,
Whilste I behold thee with a loathing eye:
And laugh to see thee weepe.
Came.
Looke, on my knees I creepe,
Be not impenetrable beautious youth,
But smile vpon me, and Ile make the aire
Court thy choyce eare with soft delicious sounds.
Bring forth the Violls, each one play his part,
Musick's the quiuer of young Cupids dart.
The Song with the Violls.
Pla.
Out Syren, peace scritch-owle, hence chattering Pye,
The blackt beakt night Crow, or the howling Dog,
Shall be more gratious then thy squeaking voice:
Go sing to M. Iohn. I shall be blunt
If thou depart not, hence, go mourne and die,
I am the scourge of light inconstancie.
Exit Camelia and Winifride.
Thus my deare Brabant, am I thy reuenge,
And whip her for the peeuish scorne she bare
To thy weake yonger bi [...]th: ô that the soules of men
Were temperate like mine, then Natures painte
Should not triumph o're our infirmities.
I do adore with infinit respect,
Weomen whose merit issues from their worth
Of inward graces, but these rotten poasts
That are but guilt with outward garnishment,
[Page]O how my soule abhorres them. Yons my friend,
Enter Brabant Iunior.
I will conceale what I for him haue wrought,
Nice Iealousie mistakes a friendly part:
Now Brabant wheres thy elder brother ha?
What hath he built the Iest with Mounsieur yet?
Bra. Iu.
Faith I know not, but I heard he left the
French-man with his wife.
Pla.
Knew she thy brothers meaning?
Bra. Iu.
Not a whit, shee's a meere straunger to this merriment.
Pla.
Hit and be luckie, ô that twere lawfull now
To pray to God that he were Cuckoled.
Deare Brabant I do hate these bumbaste wits,
That are puft vp with arrogant conceit
Of their owne worth, as if Omnipotence
Had hoysed them to such vnequald height,
That they suruaide our spirits with an eye
Only create to censure from aboue,
When good soules they do nothing but reproue.
See where a Shallop comes. How now, what newes?
Enter Winifride, and whispers with Planet.
Bra. Iu.
What might this meane, that Winifrid salutes
The blunt tongu'de Planet, with such priuate speech?
See with what vehemence she seemes to vrge
Some priuate matter. Planet is my friend,
And yet the strongest linke of friendship's strainde,
When female loue puts to her mightie strength.
Marke, Marke, she offers him Camelias scarfe:
Now on my life tis so: Planet supplants my Loue.
Pla.
Friend I must leaue thee, preethee pardon mee,
Weele meete at supper soone with the good knight.
Exeunt Pla. and Winifride.
I, I, content: ô hell to my delight,
My friend will murder me, thin Cobweb Lawne
Burst with each litle breath of tempting sweets.
Winifride speakes from within.
She intreats you M. Planet, to meete
Her at the Crosse stile.
Bra. Iu.
Ha, at the crosse stile, well I'le meet him there.
He thats persidious to me in my loue,
Confusion take him, and his bloud be spilt
Without confusion to the murderer.
Exit Brabant.
Enter Bra. Iu. and his Page, charging a Pistoll.
Bra. Iu.
So loade it soundly, murders great with me,
Goe Boy, discharge it, euen in Planets brest,
Shoot him quite through, & through, thou canst not sin
To murder him, that murdered his deare friend
With damned breach of friendship, when he is slaine
Bring me his Cloake and Hat, here I will stay
To be imbrac'de in steed of
Planet: goe, away.
Exit Boy.
I had rather die with blood vpon my head,
Shame and reproach clogging my heauie houre,
Then t'haue my friend still wounding of my soule
With reprobate Apostacisme in loue.
O this Sophisticate friendship, that dissolues
With euery heate of Fancie, let it melt
Euen in Hells Forge▪ Harke, the Pistoll is discharg'de,
The Act of gory murder is performd'e.
Haue mercie heauen: ô my soule is rent
[Page] Enter the Page.
With
Planets wound. Come Boy the Hat and Cloake,
Go poste to Scotland, there are crownes for thee,
Leaue
Brabant vnto death, and obloquie.
Exit Page.
Why now the vlcerous swelling of my hate
Is broken forth: Oh that these womens beauties,
This Natures witchcraft, should inchaunt our soules
So infinitely vnrecouerable,
That Hell, death, shame, eternall infamy,
Cannot reclaime our desperate resolues,
But we will on spight of damnation.
Enter Camelia and Winifride.
Come ye poore garments of my murdered friend,
Mourne that you are compeld to hide his limbes
That slew you Maister. See Camelia comes,
I'le stand thus muffled and deceiue her sight,
When loue makes head, friendship is put to flight.
Came.
Persist not still, ô thou relentlesse youth
To scorne my loue: what tho I scorn'd thy friend,
Do not vpbrayd me still with hating him,
Do not still view me with a loathing eye.
For Brabants sake, do you but loue me sweet,
And Ile not scorne him. Why shouldst be so nice
In keeping lawes of friendship? didst thou e're heare
Of any soule that held a friend more deare,
Then a faire woman?
Bra. Iu.
O the sting of death, how hath Brabant err'd?
Hence thou vile wombe of my damnation,
Oh thou wrong'd spirit of my murdred friend,
Thou guiltlesse, spotlesse, pure Immaculate,
[Page]Behold this arme thrusting swift vengeance
Into the Trunck of a curst damnde wretch.
He drawes his Rapier.
Wini.
Heele spoile himselfe, lets run & call for helpe.
Exit Camel. and Wini.
Bra. Iu.
Now haue I roome for murder, this vaste place,
Hush'd silence, and dumb sollitude, are fit
To be obseruers of my Tragedie.
Planet accept the smoake of reeking bloud
To expiate thy murder. Friend I come,
Weele troope together to Elizium.
Enter Sir Edward, Camelia, Winifride, Ellis, Brabant Sig. Twedle, Drum, and others.
Sir Ed.
Hold hairbrainde youth, what mischiefe maddes thy thoughts?
Bra. Iu.
Forbeare good knight, you neuer sinn'd so deepe,
As in detaining this iust vengeance
To light vpon me, but know I will die,
I haue infring'de the lawes of God and Man,
In sheading of my Planets guiltles blood,
Who I supposde corryuald me in loue
Of that Camelia, but iniuriously:
And therefore gentle knight, let mine owne hand
Be mine owne hangman.
Bra. Sig.
Brother I'le get you pardon, feare it not.
Bra. Iu.
You'le get my pardon, brother pardon mee,
You shall not, for Ile die in spight of thee.
Sir Ed.
I am turnde wilde in wonder of this act.
[Page]Enter Planet and the Page.
Pla.
Come Brabant come, giue me my Cloak & Hat,
The euenings rawe and danke, I shall take cold.
How now? turnd mad, why star'st thou on me thus?
Giue me my Cloake. Hart is the youth distraught?
Bra. Iu.
Ha, doest thou breathe, lets see where is thy wound?
Pla.
Doest breathe, my wounde, what doest thou meane by this?
Page.
Gentlemen I can direct you forth
This Laborinth of intricate misdoubts,
My M. will'd me kill that Gentleman,
Now I thought he was mad in putting me
To such an enterprise, and therefore sooth'd him vp,
With I sir, yes sir, and so sir, at each word,
Whilste he would show me how to hold the Dagge,
To drawe the Cock, to charge, and set the flint,
Meane time I had the wit to thinke him madde,
And therefore went, and as he will'd me shot,
Which he God knows, thought pearc'd his deer friends hart,
Then went & borrowed that same Hat & cloake
Of M. Planet, brought them to my Maister,
And so.
Pla.
No more, no more, knight I wil make thee smile
When I discourse how much my friend hath err'd.
Sir Ed.
I will dissolue and melt my soule to night,
In influent laughter. Come' my Iocund spirit
Presageth some vnhopte for happinesse:
Wee'l crowne this euening with triumphant ioy,
Ile sup vpon this Greene, heer's roome enough
To drawe a liberall breath, and laugh aloud:
[Page] Drum fetch the Table:
Twedle scoure your Pipe,
For my old bones will haue a Rownd to night.
Now by my troth and I had thought ont too,
I would haue had a play: I faith I would.
I sawe the Children of Powles last night,
And troth they pleasde mee prettie, prettie well,
The Apes in time will do it hansomely.
Pla.
I faith I like the Audience that frequenteth there
With much applause: A man shall not be choakte
With the stench of Garlicke, nor be pasted
To the barmy Iacket of a Beer▪brewer.
Bra. Iu.
Tis a good gentle Audience, and I hope the Boyes
Will come one day into the Court of requests.
Bra. Sig.
I and they had good Playes, but they produce
Such mustie fopperies of antiquitie,
And do not sute the humorous ages backs
With cloathes in fashion.
Pla.
Well Brabant well, you will be censuring still,
There lyes a Iest in steep will whip you fort't.
Sir Ed.
Gallants I haue no iudgement in these things,
But will it please you sit? Camelia
Call these same Gentlemen vnto thee wench:
O there with thee my Katherine was wont
To sit with gracefull presence, well let't passe:
Fetch me a Cup of Sacke. Come Gallants sit,
M. Brabant, M. Planet, I pray you sit.
Young M. Brabant, and Gods pretious M. Iohn,
Sit all, and consecrate this night to mirth.
Heere is old Neds place: Come, sound Musicke there,
What Gallants haue you ne're a Page can entertaine
This pleasing time with some French brawle or Song?
What shall we haue a Galliard? troth tis well.
[Page] A Galliard.
Good Boy I faith, I would thou hadst more roome.
Enter Katherine.
Ka.
Once more the gratious heauens haue renewd
My wasted hopes, once more a blessed chaunce
Hath fetcht againe my spirit from the sownd
And languishing dispaire of happinesse.
A skilfull Beldame with the Iuice of hearbes
Hath curde my face, and kild the venoms power,
And now if Pasquil liue and loue me still,
Heauen is bounteous to poore Katherine.
Yon suppes my Father, but my Ned's not there
I feare, and yet I know not what I feare.
Sir Ed.
Gallants I drinke this to Ned Pasquils health.
Pla.
I faith Ile pledge him, would he had his wits.
Sir Ed.
And I my daughter. Fill me one Cup more:
No griefe so potent, but neat sparkling wine
Can conquere him: Oh this is Iuice diuine.
Ka.
Would he had his wits. Oh what a numming feare
Strikes a cold palsey through my trembling blood.
Enter Pasquil madde.
Pas.
Vertue shall burst ope the Iron gates of Hell,
Ile not be coop'd vp, roome for Phaeton▪
Lame pollicy how canst thou goe vpright?
O Lust, staine not sweet Loue. Fie be not lost
Vpon the surge of vulgar humours. You Idiot
Riuet my Armor, and Caparison,
A mightie Centaure, for Ile run at Tilt,
And tumble downe y on Giantin the dust.
Sit gentle Iudges of great Radamant,
Let not Proserpine rule thee. Oh shee's dead▪
Now thou art right Eacus, I appeale to thee,
Haue pittie on a wretches miserie.
I am quite sunck with griefe, what shall we do
To get recouery of his wittes againe?
Bra. Iu.
Let Musicke sound, for I haue often heard
It hath such sweet agreement with our soules,
That it corrects vaine humours, and recalls
His stragling fancies to faire vnion.
Pla.
Why the soule of man is nought but simphonies,
A sound of disagreeing parts, yet faire vnite
By heauens hand, diuine by reasons light.
Sir Ed.
Sound Musicke, then pray God it take effect.
The Musickes soundes, and Pasquils Eye is fixt vpon Catherine.
Bra. Iu.
Mark with what passion he sucks vp the sweets
Of this fame delicate harmonious breath.
Pla.
Obserue him well, me thinkes his eye is fixt
Vpon some obiect that seemes to attract
His verie soule forth with astonishment
Marke with what vehemence his thoughts do speake
Euen in his eies, some creature stands farre off,
That hath intranc'te him with a pleasing sight.
Pas.
Amazement, wonder, stiffe astonishment,
Stare and stand gazing on this miracle,
Perfection, of what e're a humane thought
Can reach with his discoursiue faculties,
Thou whose sweet presence purifies my sence,
And doest create a second soule in me,
Deare Katherine, the life of Pasquils hopes.
Ka.
Deare Pasquil, the life of Katherines hopes.
Pas.
Once more let me imbrace the constant's one
That e're was tearmde her Sexe perfection.
Once more let me be valued worth his loue,
In decking of whose soule, the graces stroue.
Pas.
Spight hath outspent it selfe, and thus at last,
Both speake.
We clip with ioyful arme each others wast.
Sir Ed.
O pardon me thou dread omnipotence,
I thought thou couldst not thus haue blessed me.
O thou hast deaw'd my gray haires with thy loue,
And made my old heart sprout with fertill ioy.
Kathe.
Forget deare father, that my act hath wrongd
The quiet of your age.
Sir Ed.
No more, no more, I know what thou wold'st say
Daughter, there's nothing but saluation,
Could come vnto my heart more gratious
Then is the sight of my deare Katherine.
Sonne Pasquill now, for thou shalt be my sonne,
What frolicke gentle youth.
Pas.
Is Mamon heere?
Drum.
Oh Sir, M. Mamon is in a Citie of Iurye, called Bethlem, Alias plaine Bedlame: the price of whips is mightily risen since his braine was pitifully ouertumbled, they are so fast spent vpon his shoulders.
Pas.
Oh sacred heauens, howiust is thy reuenge?
Sir Ed.
Why? did he cast you in the laborinth
Of these straunge crosses?
Pas.
Yes honor'd knight, which in more priuate place
And fitter time, I will disclose at large.
Came.
Faith Sister, as I am your elder borne,
So will I match before or with you sure,
Young M. Brabant?
Bra.
By this light not I.
Came.
Honest M. Ellis?
No indeed law, not I, I do not vse to marrie▪
For euen as blacke patches are worne,
Some for pride, some to stay the Rhewme, and
Some to hide the scab, euen so Iohn Ellis
Scorne her, that hath scorned him.
Came.
Vertuous Maister Planet.
Pla.
Errant wandring starre we shall nere agree.
Ca.
M. Brabant, M. Planet, M. Ellis, faith Ile haue any.
Sir Ed.
But no bodie will haue thee, this is the plague of light inconstancie.
Go Twedle, bid the Butler broach fresh wine,
Set vp waxe lights, and furnish new the boords,
Knocke downe a score of Beefes,
Inuite my neighbors straight,
And make my Dressers grone with waight of meate.
M. Ellis, pray you let vs heare your high Dutch Song,
You are admired for it: Good lets heare it.
El.
I do not vse to sing, and yet euen as when the skie falls we shall haue Larkes, euen so when my voice riseth, you shall haue a Song.
He singeth, holding a Bowle of drinke in his hand.
The Song.
GIue vs once a drinke, for an the blacke Bowle,
Sing gentle Butler balley moy,
For an the blacke bowle. Sing gentle Butler balley moy.
Giue vs once some drinke, for an the pinte Potte,
Sing gentle Butler balley moy, the pinte potte,
For an the blacke bowle. Sing gentle Butler balley moy.
Giue vs once a drinke, for an the quart Potte,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the quart, the pinte Pot,
For an the blacke bowle. Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Giue vs once some drinke, for an the pottle Potte,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot,
For an the blacke bowle. Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
[Page]Giue vs once a drinke, for an the gallan Potte,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the gallan, the pottle, the quart, the pinte potte, For an the blacke bowle.
Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Giue vs once a drinke for an the Firkin,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the Firkin, the gallan, the pottle, the quart, the pinte potte, For an the blacke bowle.
Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Giue vs once a drinke for an the Kilderkin,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the Kilderkin, the Firkin, the gallan, the pottle, the quart, the pinte potte,
For and the blacke bowle. Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Giue vs once some drinke for an the Barrell,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the Barrel, the Kilderkin, the
Firkin, the gallan, the pottle, the quart, the pinte potte,
For an the blacke bowle. Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Giue vs once some drinke for an the Hoggeshead,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the Hoggeshead, the Barrell, the
Kilkerkin, the Firkin, the gallan, the pottle, the quart, the pinte pot, For an the blacke bowle. Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Giue vs once a drinke for an the But,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the But, the Hoggeshead, the Barrel, the Kilderkin, the Firkin, the gallan, the pottle, the quart, the pinte potte, For an the blacke bowle.
Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Giue vs once some drink for an the Pipe,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the Pipe, the But, the Hogeshead, the Barrel, the Kilderkin, the Firkin, the gallan, the pottle, the quart, the pinte pot, For an the blacke bowle.
Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Giue vs once some drinke for an the Tunne,
Sing gentle Butler bally moy, the Tunne, the Pipe, the But, the the Hoggeshead, the Barrell, the Kilderkin, the Firkin, the gallan, the pottle, the quart, the pint pot, For an the black bowle.
Sing gentle Butler bally moy.
Well done, I faith twas chaunted merrily:
What my Gallants, nere a tickeling Iest
To make vs sowne with mirth ere we goe in?
Bra. Sig.
Faith Gent. I ha brewed such a strong headed Iest
Will make you drunk, and reele with laughter:
You know Mounsieur Iohn fo de king?
Sir. Ed.
Very well, he read French to my daughters.
Bra. Sig.
I to gull the Foole, haue brought him to my wife, as to a loose lasciuious Curtezan, she being a meer straunger to the Iest, and there some three houres ago left him: but I am sure shee hath so cudgeld him with quicke sharpe Iests, and so batterd him with a volley of her wit, as indeed she is exceeding wittie, and admirable chaste, that in my conscience heele neuer dare to court women more. Would to God he were returnd.
Enter Mounsieur.
Sir. Ed.
See euen on your wish hee's come.
Moun.
Iesu preserue you sweet Metre Brabant, by gor de most delicat plumpe vench dat euer mee tuche: mee am your slaue, your peasaunt; by gor a votre seruice whil'ste I liue vor dis.
Bra. Sig.
He would perswade you now that he toucht her, with an immodest hand. Ha, ha, ha.
Moun.
Tuch her, by Gor mee tuch her, and tuch her, and mee tuch her, mee nere tuch such a venche, de finea foote, de cleanest legge, de sleekest skin: and mee tell e sure token, shee hath de finest little varte you knowe veare: hee by Gor mee nere tuch such a vench.
Sir Ed.
Pray God hee haue not brew'd a headie Iest indeed.
Bra. Sig.
Why faith Gentlemen I am Cuckolde, by this light I am.
By gor mee no knowe, you tell a mee twas a Curtezan, prey you pardon mee, by my trote, me teche you French to t'end of de vorlde.
Pla.
Come heer's thy Cap of Maintenance, the Coronet
Of Cuckolds. Nay you shall weare it, or weare
My Rapier in your gutts by heauen.
Why doest thou not well deserue to be thus vsde?
Why should'st thou take felicitie to gull
Good honest soules, and in thy arrogance
And glorious ostentation of thy wit,
Thinke God infused all perfection
Into thy soule alone, and made the rest
For thee to laugh at? Now you Censurer
Be the ridiculous subiect of our mirth.
Why Foole, the power of Creation
Is still Omnipotent, and there's no man that breathes
So valiant, learned, wittie, or so wise,
But it can equall him out of the same mould.
Wherein the first was form'd. Then leaue proud scorne,
And honest selfe made Cuckold, weare the horne.
Bra. Sig.
Weare the horne? I, spite of all your teethe
Ile weare this Crowne, and triumph in this horne.
Sir Ed.
Why faith tis valorously spoke faire Sir,
Weel solemnise your Coronation
With royall pompe. Now Gentlemen prepare
A liberall spirit to entertaine a Ieast,
VVhere free light Iocund mirth shall be enthroand
VVith sumptuous state. Now Musicke beat the aire,
Intrance our thoughts with your harmonious sounds,
Our Fortune laughes, and all content abounds.
Exeunt omnes.
FINIS.