[Page] THE History of the two Maids of More-clacke, VVith the life and simple maner of IOHN in the Hospitall. Played by the Children of the Kings Maiesties Reuels. VVritten by ROBERT ARMIN, seruant to the Kings most excellent Maiestie.

LONDON, Printed by N. O. for Thomas Archer, and is to be sold at his shop in Popes-head Pallace, 1609.

To the friendly peruser.

GENTLEMEN, Cittizens, Ru­stickes, or quis non, I haue boldly put into your hands, a Historical discourse, acted by the boyes of the Reuels, which perchaunce in part was sometime acted more naturally in the Citty, if not in the hole. Howsoeuer I commit it into your hands to be scan'd, and you shall find verse, as well blancke, as crancke, yet in the prose let it passe for currant, I would haue againe inacted Iohn my selfe, but Tempora mutantur in illis, & I cannot do as I would, I haue therefore thought good to diuulge him thus being my old acquaintance, lack, whose life I knew, and whose remem­brance I presume by appearance likely. Wherein I whilome pleased: and being requested both of Court and Citty, to shew him in priuate, I haue therefore printed him in publike, wish­ing thus much to euery one, so delighting, I might put life into this picture, and naturally act him to your better contents; but since it may not be, my entreaty is, that you would accept this dumbe show, and be well wishing to the substance.

Yours euer as he is merry and frolicke, ROBERT ARMIN.

The Historie of the two Maides of More-clacke. With the life and simple manner of IOHN i'the Hospitall.

Enter a maide strowing flowers, and a seruing man perfuming the doore.
STrow, Strow.

The Muskadine stayes for the bride at Church,

The Priest and himens cerimonies tend
To make them man and wife.
By my maiden-head a ioyfull time, ile paue their
Way with flowers.
While I perfume.
Some say this widdow's rich.

I will not say as poore as Iob, but as bare as Ianuary, when the trees looke like a girle, whose coulour comes and goes as frost doos in the milke.


Twas wont to be a rich widdow and a poore knight, but now false, a knight rich and the widdow poore.


How euer honour is most rich, no matter who is poore.

[Page] Maid.
I would my fortune were no worse
Thine may be better.

So much if't be thy wil, if euer knight were gul'd, be it in me, in me I pray.

Enter Humil.
What are the waits of London come?
Yes sir.
Play in their highest key then.
hoboyes play.
sound Hoboyes.
Make the Gods daunce▪ cause Ioniall mirth
Musike in heauen for this earthes marriage
Is a triumphant concord to vs all,
To me tis seal [...]d by promise for his daughter,
Who in our blood shall simpathize, sayes I,
She shall be ours, bedded, although some
Mennace a riualship, yet the sure card
Giues the trick ours, and we shall winne,
Since in my mother it doth first beginne.
Enter the solemne shewe of the marriage, Sir William Vergir, Earle, Lords, Auditor, Sir Rafe, Sir Ro­bert Toures, Filbon, others.
Enter Lady, mistres Mary, mistres Tabitha, and some other women for showe.
After all.
Enter Iames a cittizen, father to Humil.
Good morrow sir.
A good one to thy selfe, to vs tis seasond,
A marriage sir?
I and a good one friend.
Because tis rich.
Good reach at starres, y'faith tis true.
In whom sit, if I may be bold.
A knight of More-clack to a London widow.

My burdned soule saies I, a Knight of More­clack to the widow Humil, iust, tis she,

[Page] Humil.
By this the blessing of the holy rights,
Rellishes in them, they are married, at least
Faire for it, I must witnesse to't, fare-well.
How ignorance pleades nonage, in his eie
He knowes me not, tis not the Lyons kinde,
Whose nature challenges right property.
Of perfect being, if it were,
Humil would Humill know, that him begot,
To be what now he is married againe,
And her first husband liuing, blame her not,
Tis my owne proiect, thanke my letters,
That falsifide our deaths black funerall,
Into her mornefull hearing, follow it,
Thinke on thy soule, diuide that bitter band,
Knit by the closure of a mutuall hand.
Enter two watermen with luggedge.
I rest ye sir.
At whose suit Wat?

At the bridegroomes, ile not a foot further till I haue eaz'd my shoulders.


No nor I, we are asses right, we carry pro­uender, but are not the better for't.

As how?

Thou't not beleeue breads bread, till it be tasted, I say to thee, in this trunk is prouender.

be an asse till thou proue it.
Heres money which will buy it.
O by a figure, I say to thee thou art an asse.
By thy burthen.
No otherwise, thats not so good.
Because thou hast eares.
Are all asses that haue eares?
Are all truncks laden with money that are heauy?
indeede I confesse in that I am an asse, but I thinke so.
By such a surmise thou makest it prouender.

[Page] We are water-men, and thinke because wee see a man com­ming, and that I am his first man, heele be my first fare, when another gets him.

Enter Tutch the Clowne, writing.
Come, you are bookish.
And thou blockish, say rights right, and no more.
Se sirha Mr. Tutch, what an officer?
Yes, hees booking in, Mr. Tutch, salue, sis salue.
Iubio tesalucre, aue.
He heares vs not.
Let me see Capons, Turkeis, Small-birds, Beefes,
Muttons, Partridge, Plouer, Wood cocks.
Meaning vs, good morning, and many sir.
And many Mr. Tutch.
Are ye come water-squirts, are ye come?
And why sir, water-squirts?

Because you shoote water, and so do they, but ha ye that will doo't, my dainey element dashers.


Do't and stand to't Mr. Tutch. if wee might spend it sir.

Enter Humil.

Well said honest knaues, beare in, but say where [...] Iohn i'th hospitall, and's nurse?

At hand sir.

Tis well, away, and Tutch tutch the tippes of their tongues, with our seller suckets.


Ile tutch the tippes of their tongues, & their tongues tippes, ile baste their bellies and their lippes til we haue ierk't the cat with our three whippes.

Married? tis ended, and the next pull mine.

At a faire fleece, a golden one, the eldest daughter is my hope, what then rests in it, O you winged lap-wings, farthest cry, when we come neerest to't. Quando pecus omnia sub vmbra ru­minat antiquos paulilum vocitamus amores.

Tis done too late to aske why so.
Tardie intrusion as a Cipher plaste.
[Page] Fils but vp roome, while substance in the other
Makes number pretious, I am that round O,
Which with a sigh, as sad as is my soule,
Grieue all too late, what now befits my mone,
But black despaire, and die in't do,
To make thy selfe knowne, but represents
Mellow fruit falling into danger, ô I am that
Rotten ruin'd, and vnrellisht substance,
Which on my owne vpgrowing tree falles off,
By the times negligence, vndone I am,
Would I had dide indeede, and not in word.
These il tun'd words like discords sounded harsh
And yet were thought true musick, well, well,
Ile take my stand, and as she passes by
Note if her glories dash not all my hopes
With base forgetfulnesse of what she was,
My picture can she not forget, may be,
Old loue may yet liue in this new-born Lady.
Enter the solemne order of the Bride-groomes returne from Church, and as the bride goes by, she beholds Iames the cittizen with earnest eye, & speakes aside.
I am woonder strocken in my selfe,
O you all-seeing, pardon my attempt,
My second choice hath laid siege to my soule,
And my disloyalty hath in that witnesse
Slaine the concurrances of after ioy,
Euen so he look't that had my maiden heart,
Euen such was he, whose farre estranged death
Gaue me this licence of ill libertie,
To do, and vndo, O forgiue me then,
Weake in my sect, my fault to the best of men.
S. Wil.
New wedded Lady, & our mornings bride,
What is't that troubles ye?
Lets fal her gloue, Iames takes it vp.
A losse but being small.
No matter for the losse.
You find a purchase, equals any crosse.
[Page] Lady.
Let it go then.
she knowes me and this constant accident
Subscribes to't, how can she excuse,
This double deede, this false neglect of loue?
O women how you dally in your trust,
How quickly you forget late liuing life,
And bury the remembrance in your smiles
All ye this morning for the dead to sigh,
And shed your teares in bosome of new choice
How haue I sifted your loose difference,
For euer being president against all.
Glad am I at this oportunity,
Who landed me euen in the iawes of feare
Swallowing my destiue happinesse
To vtter ruine of herselfe and me
If the vnconstant aire whistle abroad,
That Humil liues, then Humils widow dies
In desperat scandall, rackt and tormented,
In the remembrance of old wretchednesse,
Which to preuent, plots cunningly contriu'd
Must buckler my repute so weakly wiu'd.
Enter sir Robert Toures, and yong Filbon.
Lost her gloue?
So she makes knowne.
Ile find it to my euerliuing glory,
And the next triumph, weare it in my [...]elme
Daring all gallants in defence to approue,
S. William Vergirs Lady owes this gloue.
If my good fortune challenge such account,
To find it by my friend or industry,
Ile prick it on a pole, and with my launce,
Curuet with nimble speed, in course of armes,
And as I snatch it by a curious passe,
Cry in lowd eccho, here is for her loue,
Who on her wedding day did loose this gloue.
Enter the two maiden sisters, Mary and Tabitha.
[Page] Mary.
The Bride, our new made mother lost her gloue.
I sister, so she saies.
Ile seeke no further, for it is in vaine.
Especially when quicker eyes then ours,
Arch in the browes of loues two votaries,
Lord how they'le bragge to find it questionles,
Twill proue a ransome of a thousand kisses,
Amorous glaunces, modest curtesie,
O how these flaterers can insinuate,
And stretch an inch of length to an el of wide
Heeres much in office for a little pay.
A gloue God wot.
I sister, so they say, go to ye wanton you
He that shall marry thee, is matcht y'faith,
To English rash, or to a Dutch snap-haunce,
You will strike fire with words—
Who I? now as I liue sweet Moll.
If Filbon marry me, as by this light.
And wincke.
Tis hard to iuggle with the diuell, we maides
So simper in each others quantity
As we know fashion ere it be deuiz'd
Forsweare you one, and Ile forsweare—
The other, iust euen so,
Shall I be plaine with thee—
Youle answere, no
I. Tab. No I. Mary. I no.
I know you will not, therefore let him go;
I loue my Filbon as men loue good clothes,
Put them on euery day.
And I loue Toures as I loue my sleepe,
Embracing thus, folding most deerely.
Your louer nightly, as you wish him yearely.
In troth in such a sort:
As children play with stones, to make them sport.
You make me blush Tabitha.
[Page] Tabith.
At the thing ye wish,
Plague on the cat that loues nor milke nor fish.
We are all maidens pictures, faine we would,
Yet we cry away away, whē away we should.
Yet againe.
Neuer yet.
Euer so when so our matters fit.
They are returnd, a gloue or no.
Enter Toures and Filbon.
No, but the gloue I sought not, I ha found.
Where is't man?
You'r the gloue, which stil I seeke to weare
Make me happy, match it to a paire.
Be these for euer matches.
How can ye find the gloue was neuer lost?
By seeking you that lost not what we find.
Indeed a willing losse, is losse of gaine,
Where louing finders pitty loosers paine,
I will not say, enioy so much the rather,
Because gift giuer cries out on the father.
But if I durst, I would, till when.
Vnmatch our gloues, each take his owne againe.
Enter Sir William, Iames, Earle of Tumult, Auditor, sir Rafe.
S. Wil.
It is inacted by the brides faire word,
VVho findes her gloue, is this daies gouernour.
To manage all our pastimes in the house,
And thou art he, the onely conquerour,
Of prize and honour, then enioy it.
You giue and I receiue, is this my office?
S. Will.
Sign'd and deliuer'd.
I take it on me, musicke triumphes come,
Since fortune cast her fauours in my fist,
Ile be most prodigall.
Yet with modesty I am a Cittizen.
Vnlook't for welcome, and vnthinking come,
To receaue honour in a states mans roome.
[Page] Yet to this presence I will still addresse,
Loue, paines and duetie in this businesse.
In this is fortune blind, whose deeds are dangers,
Giuing her graces not to friends but strangers.
Prooue on my fortunes how so ere they stand,
I hold my fairest fortune in my hand.
The like doe I.
Enter yong Humil.
And all the fairest fortunes I would proue,
Is onely this, to enioy my dearest loue.
The like I wish.
speake aside.
All happinesse liue in thy choice, in hers

All mischiefs, horrour, les our selfe participate in tender of our choise, freely deliuer'd in the fight of heauen.

S. Wil.
What newes?
The wedding dinner breaths his last.
S. Wil.
And wee will visite it; on forward there.
Enter Iames and Ladie.
So faire and fortunate to be thus false,
Wedded to two. O you all wondring eies,
Gaze till your fire flame, your eie-balles drop
In moist imagination of this act,
Before the first be dead to wed a second. ô
Why writ you dead in your last letters?
Sick was I, and no likelihood of life.
What then, was that a iust excuse
To varnish ouer this base counterfeiting? no,
Il'e make it knowne.
I care not, I will thus excuse it,
All opposite of iniurie was yours,
Putting to teast our weakenesse by your letters,
VVhich carrying credit, woman in her will,
Guiltlesse is causer of this open ill.
Had I beene thus aduiz'd, but all too late

Acquainted with your speede, I had preuented what now is past and done.

Why did you not? Baud to your owne misdeede,
[Page] Three quarters guiltie of this accident,
That might & would not stop the hazard,
VVill ye now heape vp miracle,
And make it worse in note, by adding too't
A bauins blaze, t'is not so soone extinct,
Being fierce of flame, quensht must it be,
By water-course of sounder pollicie.
I am from my selfe in this, what shall I doe?
O I am madde, and mischiefe mennassis vnwitting of all purpose.
Why did I cast my gloue,
Proclaim'd the finder stickler of our sports,
But to a point preuailing practise?
I know not how.
Leaue all to me, women that wade in sinne,
Haue their wits-charter to authorize it,
And they haue antidotes that to digest,
Which better iudgements lose themselues in, let me alone.
To ly with him the while.
Tis true to ly with him, but not in sheetes,
To vse the flourish of a womans skill,
In windes and turnings, other lying,
My new made husband iniures not the old,
As I am simply false, I will be found
Constant to death, knowing my businesse
Is to heale vp the fractures of the time,
And to salue vertue in her taint of ill.
I build on this.
Some moneth.
VVhile I possesse the glory of my name;
Attendances according, marrie our sonne
Vnto his eldest daughter, that's the point
Of all: regaine my ioynter next,
T'is not amisse to satisfie your debts.
These two atchieu'd, the third is bedding,
[Page] And if this braine beguile him not of that,
Say I am single: no, since blame sits nie,
Behooues giue care to vse true policie.
Our sonne.
Enter Humil.
Mother the noble guest expects ye,
The present meeting doos neglect it selfe
VVhere our faire bride is wanting,
Pray come in, you doe them wrong.
I am not well, and this commanding aire
Retaines my health, I came to fetch it,
Wherefore inricht with what was ours before,
VVe yeeld fresh duetie and attend them.
Will you be mindfull of our marriage, mother?
Begin so happily in yours.
I shall indeauour in it, come.
Enter Marie. Tabithe, Toures and Filbon.
Close and husht, not a fly stirring,
VVhile they feede hungerly, we, that loues detie
Doos proclaime pardon to presume, and speake,
Challendge libertie, now by my maiden-head.
Sweare not loue.

Can you forbid my oath? Sir I will sweare, & till I lacke it, say, nought shall confine me, I had rather feast in fancies pittance, then to seede gag'd with attention, soo­thing euery bit with curiositie: no, I can fill my bellie in a minute, satisfie my stomacke in a breath: Louers digest their sighes, and chow their spleene, while other appetites fall hungry toot, and let them greedily graze on.

VVhat's all this?
Louers talke any thing.
I vnderstand ye not.
I would not that you should, for I speake Greeke.
Regard her not, for she talkes, Id'ly Filbon.
Be you aduiz'd then sister, I'me a foole.
[Page] Yet not so simple but I talke by rule,
I say, dine they that list, I will not, for my dish
Drest to my hand is here, here let me feede,
Ti's the maids modicum, God send vs speede.
In that I claime a part,
Who euer feedes this dish hath Maries hart.
So then said I well, ye wicked thing.
Mot as I am of Louers vnion,
Contracted to a sollitarie life.
By thus retayning singlenes of heart:
Changing all doubts that the world affords
But one, so to thy sweetest selfe,
Which onely art idea of my thoughts:
I vowe a reconciled amitie,
Which violated, doos command my life
To yeeld his intrest to the shade of death,
May be, your father alienates our choice,
And showes as sunne-shine threatning raine,
To the all-hoping haruest present.
VVhich to make cleare, the honourable word
And fatherly regard in present office
Haue past their speede in our attention.
I know your father will receiue their on-set
Soldier-like, ioying the siege begunne,
VVhich tho resisted, bids them gladly come.
Pause in that trust, giue eare.
Enter Iames with the musitions.
Sound proclamation,
It is inacted by the bride and bride-groome,
And by our selfe chiefe in authoritie,
That all receiue their pleasures
From the most high in this assembly
To the lowest, all pastimes are made free,
Dauncing, carding, dicing reuelling.
And other dues oftimes fit merriments,
—Vnto the bride and bride-groomes health.
[Page] Tabit.
The daies short, and the night's
Stop there.
I will, to pleasure thee,
There take your places.
And in your sweetest key of musique strokes
Sound pleasant melody, eccho those sounds
Which true-loue-hearts, in concords chiefest grounds
Haue their blest being, vse art in times,
Which may giue welcome to our noblest guests.
Enter Humil.
We are betraid, yong Humill is at hand,
Daunce, and excuse it so.
Sound musique there.
Content, a dance, and in againe.
Content, no daunce, yet in againe.
It is vngently don to snatch her so.
I snatch but that which promise saies is mine,
Haue I offended?
Right what is wrong.
Or where you dare, go seeke in Brainford, go.
Put vp, or I shall be offending vnto one,
Against the brides sonne, dare ye?
I repent not what is done, come you with me.
So slaues by violence do hurry hence,
The rights of—
Peace, we on you do impose command.
Yeeld duty in it: hall, a hall there.
Musique sound, and to the bride do consecrate this round.
Enter all the traine to daunce.
S. Wil.
Squire of the day, cul out your gadding bucks.
Select your light-heel'd does, open your Labits,

Turne them to the toiles; we that are Venus Huntsmen may partake the sports.

You'r a gallant woodman sir.
My sonne for one.
S. Rafe,
And mine the other.
[Page] S. Wil.
Good my daughters for them both,

A course or so, go too, lead on, the bucks that haue imploy­ment for these does, are not these giddy gamsters, i'le be the Forester and looke too't.

Heare you that?
A lightning before heat.
Your fathers aire is harrald to his tongue.

A knowes the coate, but thinkes not who shall weare it.

S. Wil.
Ther's two and two.

A coople more, too makes no show, our measure is for three.

Why then the bride.
S. Kafe.
And bridegroome.
S. Wil.
O sir, pardon me.
My ioints were oild to pleasure, but now, not.
Then I with her.
S. Wil.
You! O, your authority commands her.
It giues his luster light.
My warrant wins, where his dos loose the right.
Humil snatches Mary from Toures and dances.
S. Wil.
My sonne in law growes bold.
Good againe, heres much to do in loue,
One simply stands, not challenging his owne:
And reason, Mary, chance is yet vnknowne
No, nor in you sir, though my son,
Words past contriue, but after deedes cry done.
Brook'st thou this disgrace.
O sir, no remedy, what Iustice liues so free.
And to her owne is friending,
I am mad to thinke on't boy, but—▪
They daunce a measure.
How Goddes-like the elder of the two,
Stations the measure, it is a Iouiall sight,
Where beauty gilds the pauement with her light.
How sullen Saturne tooke her by the hand.
[Page] With frosty feeling, in whose ioy touch,
She shrunke her hold, but with a iealous eie,
She glanst on me, fearefull that standers by
Should be inricht with't: now she smiles me faire,
Guilding my torture with an after hope.
Thus moroliz'd, I season on my right,
Her loue thus challeng'd by inferior might.
The Daunce ends.
S. Wil.
After this dalliance here comes other sport.
Pray ye attend him gallants: How now Iohn?
Tar di venientis Iohn, you must be whip't.
Quaeso preceptor, non est tibi quid.
Enter Iohn, Nurse, Boy, all in blew coates.
S. Wil.
This silly sot, my Lord, so please you heare him,
Vtters much hope of matter, but small gaine.
An old wife nurst him, which we call blind Ales.
She dying, left him to the citties keeping.
Which in their Hospitall they thus nurst vp.
Amongst the bounties of their other deeds:
Many besides, now you shall heare his fellow
Aske him such questions as his simplenes
Answeres to any: sirra let me heare ye.
Iohn, how many parts of speech be there?
Eight, the vocatiue, and ablatiue, caret nominatiuo ô,
What say you to reddish Iacke?
That it does bite, Ha, ha, ha.
Where ha you been Iacke?
At Powles friend.
Who saw you there?
Mr. Deane Nowel, O hee's a good man truly.
What did a giue thee Iack?
A groat, looke here else.
What wil't do with it?
Carri't home to my Nurse.
I'le giue thee a point Iack, what wil't do with it?
[Page] Ioh.
carri't home to my nurse.
I'le giue thee a fooles head Iack, what wilt do with it?
Carri't home to my nurse,
Carry a fooles head, what a foole are thou?
Should I goe home without it? whose foole now?
Who toles the bell for Iohn?
I know not,
Iohn toles the bell, at if a pul'd the rope.
When dide a?
Ene now,
Hoo Iacke hoo,
My Nurses chickin. Ha, ha, ha.
A silly ignorant, is a euer so?
Sir Wil.

Neuer otherwise, a cleanly Idiot, what's put on him in his morning ries, is as you see it. This old woman is his Nurse.

Enter Messenger.
So please your honour you are sent for to the Court,
The Court goes from Richmond to White-hall.
We will attend her, kind sir William Vergir.
Our times bride-groome to your selfe and you.
We wish as we haue euer done, all loue,

And for our present entertainement rest indebted to your bounty, if a Courts amends haue in it power of satisfacti­on, you command it, this acknowledg'd euer, your poore acquaintance but an honourable friend.

We will attend your coach.
Sir, be mindfull of our seruant Filbon.
What wants in him to weie downe loue with gold,
Our sauours shall supply.
Sir Wil.

Tis a light weight, their portions if they, poize no better, will to the worlds beleefe, grow lesse not greater, but let them passe, I weie them as they are. Come Nurse, follow vs Iohn.

Exit after.

Wipe your nose, fie a slouen still, looke ye be man­nerly, hold vp your chinne, let me see ye make your holiday legge, so my chucking, that's a good lambe, do not cry for [Page] any thing, Iohn if ye doe.

No Nurse, grace a God, Grace a Queene.
Enter Sir William and his Ladie.
S. Wil.

Shreeke no more in my eare, I pre-thee peace, I graunt I made such promise: but what then, shall I for that so set her on the racke, when her faire fortunes looke a bet­ter way, with the small proffer of your giddie sonne, no: you shall pardon me.

Youle let me haue my ioynter yet.
S. Will.
Yes that, three hundred by the yeare ti's thine,
But for your sonne to wed my eldest daughter.

VVhy, he doth merit her in my accord, and tis no wrong in you, to dip her blood in the selfe dye that wee are in.

Sir. Wil.

I grant his merit, but her shining value made golden glittering, by my vantings lookes to a higher pro­mintoria, from which fower, when your sonne gazes, it af­frights him, yeelds him plannet stroke.

He shall not haue her then.
Sir Wil.
Beleeue it wife.
He shall.
S. Wil.
I will not bed with you till then.
Sir Wil.

I ha said it, and when posture of our word takes his bace beeing, I will die the death, into our wedding sheetes shall mischiefe come, before my bodie breake your word with me, euen on your wedding day.

Sir Wil.
Nay then vp with the lists, againe it shall not be.

I care not, thinke you I doe, keepe your word in that, when I breake mine.

S. Wil.
No more, be stranger to my bed, doe doe. Haue
I of nothing made thee much and wilt thou—

Yes I will, haue you of protestations, othes, and vowes made these loose fractures: lawfull bee it then for me to shun the make-peace bed, since strife sets such diui­sion [Page] betwixt man and wife, I am most firme in't.

S. Wil.
Very well, tis not amisse.
Enter Auditor, sir Raph, Toures, Filbon, and their sonnes.
The night drawes on, tis time to part.
Sir. Wil.
At your pleasures gentlemen.
S. Rafe.
Your gallant daughters will be next.
S. Wil.
Or not at all, for I am past it now.
And we are praid vnto, our sonnes are gentlemē,
what resteth then, but we saile nearer to the point?
S. Wil.
What point?
S. Ra.
Of mariage past, betwixt vs in our promises.
S. Wil.

Indeede to one I promis'd her waight in gold, vn­to the other which I loue as deare, her waight in siluer, now gentlemen what goods haue you to equall these large pro­mises?

Why all we haue.
S. Rafe.
But twill not serue,
The big auouchments of my promises
Controlles you all, and all mens else, ye all,
Vnder degrees of Earles, Lords, or as Potent
To toule them on I eccho these large sommes.
S. Rafe.
Vnualued must your sommes be to such choice,
Honour lookes high aboue such pettie price.
S. Wil.
Looke honour high as heauen,
Our earthly reach doth leauell in that eie,
And with the imbellishment of richer worth
Ile by, and out-by the imprisond scope,
Of reaching blood, what will not value doe
Where strong abillitie dos reach his hand,
And they haue beautie too, which ioynd to riches
Will proffer faire: tho not so quaint
As courtly dames or earths bright treading starres,
They are maids of More-clacke, homely milke-bole things,
Such as I loue and faine would marry well.
S. Rafe.
It was a promise in you to be kinde.
Sir William.

Ile forward with that promise, you loue [Page] my eldest.—

With my soule.
S. Wil.
And pittie to deuide that loue, then hearken me,
when shees dead and liues againe, shees yours, not till then,
Then neuer but in death.
S. Wil.
You loue my yongest daughter.
And will euer.
S. Wil.

Pray ye doe: but when you are from your selfe a woman, she is yours in marriage.


Woman to woman ioynd twere wonderfull, but in more maze of wonder I should be, what I doe chal­lenge to participate, and from my selfe liue to deuide in other.

S. Wil.
Faith not till such a wonder.
S. Rafe.
Ist not enough to scandall thy true word?
But are we slighted thus with santasies,
Impossibilities, dead and aliue againe,
Manhood infuzd in woman: tis not generous.
Come sonne vpon my blessing
Take from thy eies thy heart adoring shine,
Offer no more thy altar bearing thoughts
To one so gyant-like, whose reach sits hie,
Aboue the compasse of a gentill eie.
Sir Wil.
you haue your answeres, gallants.
We like it not.
Nor will we so except it.
S. Wil.
Fore-warnd come neare my house,
Rapes, fellonies, and what may else be thought on,
I will with heauie impositions
Surcharge ye with, if not with pistoll shot,
I will defend my selfe and these I keepe.
Liue I to heare this?
Conuay them from him, let vs.
In disguise.
Or not at all.
That way or none▪
[Page] Enter Iames and Humil.

Iames, when I put thee from my thought, let me be hud wincht from all, fortune, thy pertaking gentlenes is such, as I doe loue thee, troth I doe.

God continue this good league.
Wot'st what newes?

The louers are expulst, and my faire hopes shine the clearer: what wilt say when I doe marrie this Knights eldest daughter?

That you are then possest.
She is mine contracted in her fathers word.
New broken sir.

Tis true your mother challeng'd it: but he as an­gry as the raging morne, whose choller breathing shakes high battlements, puts her off with a pause of contrarie, I know it sir, her ioynter is subscrib'd too, which else to doe, sooner should earth to heauen presume a progresse, then the grant make firme what the antecedent challenges, your mo­ther vpon this abandons from his bed, vowing bold absence, he inrag'd, giues way to all maligne and stubborne fashion of contempt, such a cloze to day neuer had practise, such a wedding night, till this sad first neuer had purchase: you shall well agree them sir, to attone this iarre, vse meanes I pray you, t'will become ye, well, when wrangling wrestles with such violent iniurie, tis the sonnes office.


Tis the diuels office and not mine, to hell obedi­ence, if he breake his word.

You had a father loued ye better.

He loud me as a king in a play, his seruant who were seeing him giues kind applause, but small vtilitie: my father in my child-hoode loud and left me to the worlds eie, in bold necessitie, I thanke him for it, since he di'de my mother hath her chance, mine wants the proofe, stand by times minion and inconstancie, oh.

[Page] Iames.
Haue patience.
Yes, whereunto? sith all my hopes ly leuell
With despaire, such milk-sops in whose breasts,
Lingers a lagging hope, to thē is patience sufferable;
But to me, horror, and hels black motions tickles
Me on to mischiese, and I will—
Now swims vpon the maine, such shipwrack-soules,
As the windes rage splits on the rocks of danger.
I, my wife, and sonne all three, now heaue, and
Feare of sinking, makes vs timorous.
Should we be sheluing on the shallow beach,
The seas rough gusts might scatter our intents,
So idle purchase might be gathered vp,
from our so sodaine shipwrack: No my state
Stands yet secure: though maim'd yet is not foil'd:
But salu'd by wise occasion may make good
This sodaine ouerflow of tide and flood.
Enter Iohn i'th hospitall, and a blew-coat boy with him.
Boy. and Iohn.
Where had'st this bread and butter?
The crow did giue it me.
But take heede the kite tak't not from thee.
I'le choake first.
Iohn shal's play at counter-hole i▪th cloister?
I ha nere a counter.
Ile giue thee one for a point.

Do, and i'le play hose go downe, O sir, Willy is a good man truly, heer's good custard and capon, and good bread and butter too.

Now Iohn, i'le cry first.
And i'le cry lagge. I was in hoblies hole.
I ha won this Iohn, now for another.
I'le hate againe will I will ô.
N [...]se.
What's the matter, making my sweet lambe cry?

[Page] Come Iohn we must to London, on with your cleane mucken­der, and take leaue of sir William and his Lady. Gods me your point, where is it Iohn?

The crow has it, and did win it at counter hole.

I'le whip ye for it, take him vp, loose your point lambe, fie, vp with him sirha.

Good Nurse now, no more truly ô, ô
Enter waterman.
Where's this suck-egge, wheres Iack a boy:
Come ye moueable matron, wheres this tugegge,
away away.
Ile take leaue of S. William and go away.

Now my Iohn iuggler, your nose is like Lothbery con­duit, that alwaies runs waste.

Whats his name Iohn?
Sternigogilus, ha, ha.
Agoggle eye, a wanton eye, a madcap, so a meanes.
Trim boat. turne head, we're at hand muschrumpe,
We come boy, we come.
Enter Nurse.
Come Iohn, our leaue is taken.
Haue ore the sea to florida, and was not good King
Salomon, Tom Tyler.

O well sung Nightingale, a boord a boord there, ha rip there.

Enter Toures in a tawny coate like a tinker, and his boy with budget and staffe, Toures tincks vpon his pan drinking.

Boy, you vnderstand me, though the liquor haue renst me, remember your businesse boy.

Yes master.

Tis rare to be a tinker boy, worke inough, wench inough, and drinke inough, is't not boy?

I Maister.
[Page] Tour.

Boy where shal's haue doings, Ile clout any womans cauldren, boy.

Master, tincke on tis time, for we ha nere a penny.

Pawne budget boy, Ile ring in boy, haye any worke for a tinker, a ti, ti, tinker.

Enter Madge.

By my maiden-head tis hee, the merry tinker of Twitnam boy, is't not?

Yes flowre it'h frying pan, he stops holes well▪ tis he,
Has his old songs still, has he not?
Yes, and new to boote.

And be not these tinkers knaues? vpon their backs they beare a long picke, with a staffe it'h end,

He shall ha worke, Ile breake way for him, and
Call out the gentlewoman to heare him sing.
Let them all say what they can dainty come thou to me.
We shall ha worke maister.
Draw boy, homo armatus, boy, Ile pepper your pans,
Where's my dogge boy?
Enter S. William Humil, Lady Mary, Tabitha.
your Dame has him, and will meete you at Putney.

Indeede whats a tinker with out's wench, staffe and dogge.

Is this the tinker you talke on?

I madame of Twitnam, I haue seene him licke out burning fire brands with's tongue, drinke two pense from the bottome of a full pottle of ale, fight with a Masty, & stroke his mustachoes with his bloody bittē fist, and sing as merrily as the sobrest Querester.

Come tinker, stop, mend.
Ile tickle your holes.
S. Wil.
Hee's out of tune for singing now.

Out of tune and temper too, thus can dainty liquor do. Sing boy.


Relish maister, relish, a note aboue eta maister, Sol. fa, me, re.

Toures singes.
A maiden sitting all alone,
Vnto her selfe she made great mone,
Sorrow set vpon her cheeke,
And she look't greene as any leeke:
Her friends did aske her cause of care;
But she cri'd out in her despaire.
O stone, stone ne ra, stone na ne ra, stone.
Cold comfort in a stone.
Docters came her pulse to feele,
And Surgions with their tooles of steele,
To dig, to delue, to find her paine,
But all they did it was in vaine,
Still on her back this maiden lies,
And with an open throat she cries.
O stone, stone na ne ra, stone ne na ne ra stone.
Better and better by my slipper.
Old wiues they made answere thus,
Greene sicknes was most dangerous.
And oate-meale eating is afood,
That neuer yet did maiden good.
Tut, tut, tut, tis nothing so,
Still she cri'd out with paine and wo.
O stone, stone ne na ne ra, stone ne na ne ra, stone
Till she was deliuered of a chopping boy, and all
was as I am, Omne bene.
S. Wil.
What a disfiguring diet, drunkennes,
Layes vpon man, a beastly appetite.
Lingers the body where such glutnous meanes,
Swelters in surfet of desire and ease.
I am an enemy to my selfe, to thinke,
That man is slaue so to continuall drinke.
Knight, feast, knight, a good celler keeper knight.
I'le cusse thy daughter knight.
Howes that?
Shals not busse knight, shals not neb?
[Page] S. Wil.

Thou art in the straits Moll, and the pirots shot will sincke thee, therefore yeeld.

I am thy Toures, being thus disguisd,
am come to steale thee, then be sodaine Moll.
Nay then y'faith.

Knight shals drinke at dore like beggers? no, ile in knight see thy seller, is thy seller in dept, knight dare he not show his face? your black iacks are my elder bro­thers, knight, shals notshake hands with our brothers knight?

Exit reeling.
S. Wil.
Follow him, looke he steale nothing.
Tinckers steale nought but drinke & maidenheads,
Ile watch him for one, if you allow losse of the other.
Sir. Wil.
Wheres Tutch?
Enter Tutch.
S. Wil.
Who waite you on?
On the world sir.
S. Wil.
And what saies the wor [...]d to ye?
Giue her the letter as she talkes.
To me sir.
S. Wil.

To you sir, what a message? letters, ha, daughter il'e be your secretary, nay hide not, iuggle not with me, ile once be secret to your thoughts, yfaith I will.

Tis a carde of lace sir, which he bought me.
I bone-lace sir.
S. Wil.

Bone-lace subscrib'd too like a letter, lace weau'd of ten bones, ist so? euen so.

O Tutch.
O mistres now am I tri'd on my owne tutch,
I am true mettall one way, but counterfeit an other:
O life no life, but messe of publicke wrong,
Day turne to night, for I ha liu'd too long.
From Filbon.

Yes from Filbon, woe to the day, time, and ho­wer.

[Page] Tutch.

That I brought this newes from your louer therefore.

S. Wil.
Pull off your coate.

I neede not sir, tis ready to fall off, yet if I doe, tis the time of yeare, the fall of leafe sir, and seruing men do drop their coates, there sir.

He puls it off.
S. Wil.

Begone, come no more neare my house, if thou do thou art a fellone, are you the carrier, are ye indeede, must loue make you his mercurie, must Filbon send by you? my owne betray my owne, to him, your a knaue, they shuffle ye about, ile deale the cards and cut ye from the decke, you vn­derstand me, go.


Gang is the word, and hang is the worst, wee are euen, Iowe you no seruice, and you owe me no wages, short tale to make, the sommers daie is long, the winter nights be short, and brickill beds dos hide our heds, as spittell fields report.

Exit Clowne.
S. Wil.

Wife coope vp our ginnie henne, that wants this treading, you gossip, to your closser, Filbon shall, if we want will, yes yes what else.

Come daughter.

I denie Filbon to his face, bring me to him, I will iustifie that all his actions are like apricocks, they dangle & loue them.

S. Wil.
You doe.
Enter Madge.

Alas sir, mistres Marie is with the Tincker gone, and at the backe dore horst, I see the gelding, twas a dapple gray.

Hell and damnation.
Exit Humil.
Sir Wil.
Death and torture.
Christmas gambuls, father, shooing the wilde mare.
S. Wil.
Am I a iest to laugh at now, indeede, indeede.
Enter Humil after the boy.

O not so fast sir, I am for your race, and will out strip ye, if ye run no faster, speake what was this tincker?

Tincker sir.
[Page] Humil.
I, thy master.

My master is a knight, who Ioue-like in the shape of such a thing, came to see Daunie in this shoure of gold.

S. Wil.
Toures was it?
Etiam, ita, ego I sir.

Now fortune at the fairest, go with thee, thou hast beene comming in this stratagem, and I doe giue thee ioy with all my heart.

S. Wil.
You doe huswife.
Wishing a whirle-winde in the like disguise.
Fetch me hence smoothly, I am lawfull price.
Sir Wil.
Wheres Iames?
At London.
Sir Wil.

I will thither too, since the diuell driues I am the second, lock her vp, safe be it your charge.

Exeunt ambo.

What for this counsellor, concealing rape and ruine of your childe?

Sir Wil.
Whip him.
I shall neuer indure it.
Sir Wil.

Vnlesse you doe betray this trust, and tell vs to what cabbinet he hath conducted her.

To Putney, ô to Putney sir, where theile be marryed.
S. Wil.

At my parsonage, God amen, no other hospitall to shadowe them but mine, am I the patron of so hard mis­chance, that my owne of my owne shall consin me, ile thether, sonne your company?

No, ile to Richmond sir, preuent them there.
S. Wil.

No sir, you shall with me, thats the next office, for your selfe, delaying due, in other all things ready, you will then serue your selfe, nor he nor you shall carue so to your appetites.

Your pleasure sir.
Enter Filbon and Tutch.
For my sake turn'd away.
[Page] Tutch.

Yes, my master turnes a new leafe, and so must I sir, twas for your letters sake.

Is there no hope?
What doe you call it when the ball sir hits the stoole?
Why out.

Euen so am I, out, out of all hope euer to come in to crum my portage at his table sir.


Welcome to mine, then honest Tutch, but speake thy minde, thinkest thou she will continue firme?


Firme sir, yes, vnles you take her for a ioyne stoole. sheele continue firme, she seedes on ye, dreames on yee, hopes on ye, and relies on ye, telling her father what a friend you are, protesting and molesting to the hole house of your good parts, vowing to God and man if she haue not you, she will haue nothing: for any mans pleasure, sheele not line if not for yours.

I stand resolu'd.
She wishes that ye should, or sheele not trust to ye.
Enter sir Rafe and Filbon.
Sir Rafe.
Sonne feest thou yong Toures?

Not since our last repulse in loue, since when I stand affected vnto singlenes of life.

S. Rafe.

Then art thou stable in my thoughts, but let me whisper to thee boy, young Toures in a Tanckers habit hath her stolne, to whom his heartie adorations were to this houre consecrate, shees gone, and her old doting father got to complaine him at the court, how twill worke I know not.

Like wax; sheele take any impression, sir she.
Like a tincker say ye?
S. Rafe.
Certainly euen so.

Twas my owne proiect father, hee applauded it, knowing my fashion of that counterfeit, to be so sure, as no man could forgoe me.


But himselfe sir, tis a point of law, arraigne him vp­on ipse facto.

[Page] Filb.

And art thou stept beyond me? where to night thou slepst: soft be thy pillow: easie be thy rest, & may thy bed be.

Mortall downe, thistle soft,
She laid her selfe vnder to keep him aloft,
And euer she said, come turne thee to me,
And was not this bonny lasse Mary Ambre?
Enter Auditor, and doth whisper with Sir Raf [...].
Mary indeede she hath resign'd to me hard choyce,
Neare am I but as arrowes a farre of,
Seemes to the shooter neighbor to the marke,
Till it proue otherwise, so I
Furthest from fauour am, though seeming nie.

Change your marke, shoot at a white, wil say, come sticke me in the clout sir, her white is black, tis crept into her eye, and wenches with black eyes the white's turnd vp are but as custards, though they seeme stone cold, yet greedily at­tempted, burning hot, and such a wench is she sir.

I know she loues me.

Most affectionately burnes in desire for ye; but key cold through her father, she stands to freeze while others are appointed to thaw the Ice, not you.

I must vse pollicie.
The onely man, I will assist you sir,
I thanke thee, and I will preuaile in't.

I thinke sir, if I see my house to night, there will come warrants to make open way to their recouery, thinking they are with me, whom I protest I haue, not seene, and vn­acquainted with her subtill stealth, am now as cleare as is the babe new borne, I neither knew of it, nor where they are, I do beshrow their hearts, right I haue in him for it.

S. Rafe.

sleepe in my house then, so my word shall make your answere stronger, I haue a sonne, I wish him so possest, but not with violence, yet say he doe climbe high, and reatch the top bough with a stricter course, I knowing not the manner nor the meanes, acquites me, and God giue, [Page] them ioy, my oath is cleere, and that's my warrant.


Sir, I will trouble you to nigh, by this sad time his mone doth challenge comfort, and the councell whose loues he hath so often visited, heartned on by the Earle of Tu­mults meanes, they will adde present purpose as he begges it.

S. Rafe.

but if the Earle know of my sons discharge, sign'd by his carelesse answere, t'would allay his hot endeuours with a cold responsall; but cease that, the time shall come——


Tis mine, the cause and all, pine let mee in them, if the sonne of hope shine as a troubled meatuare in the sky; tis our fates fortune, and no matter cause no remedy.


True vantings of resolue, tis late, and custome chal­lenges no right in me, to be so hurtfull to my selfe, the eue­nings aire is rawe and cold.

S. Raf.
Filbon follow vs, be you more temperate.
You see what hurry threatnings this misdeede
Wounds deepe are dangerous, though they hardly bleed
Sir, I am lessond,
As the boyes at schoole?
Practise their knowledge by contrary rule.
Enter Humilsadly.
O I am slaine with wonder.
Hath this life left in it a little breath,
To blow out treason, reeke yee cloudes of shame,
Putrifie all imagination, hold her at stearne,
There let her sinke, neuer to win againe,
Homers recouery, shall I say and thinke it?
Haue I not beene in bed to night, and so
Talke idly wanting sleepe, or rose from rest,
As many troubled doe, acting like life,
Awaking dead, for in that flattering feare,
Perchaunce her reputation may be saued.
No I am certaine in my feare, tis true,
In yond black closset lies a wicked woman,
(I will not say my mother, that names lost)
[Page] In the twind brazings of the slaue her man.
In Iames his armes, and shall I suffer it?
To blab, it were to harould out my shame,
In quarter'd scutchin of black obloquie,
To murder one were most imparciall;
Againe to turne hilles on this sinne,
Would write me baude, but to be nobly satisfide
Is a content licenc'd from equity.
The knight shall know it, I will write to him,
Startle his bold imagination with pale feare,
Rose his reuengefull spirit on them both,
And make me hopefull of his loue neglected,
Forgiue me world, heauens iustice puts me on,
And though a sonne, Ile punish both or none.
Enter Earle, and Lord, and Sir VVilliam, the Lords, and sir VVilliams two men bearing torches.
You that binde vp in secrets of the night,
Dayes benefites going to rest;
As peacefull birds, lodg'd in a sanctuary.
Smile at our Courtiers care, whose industry,
Rules in the silent and all shadowing night,
Suites that are breathles in a troubled day.
Haue their abiding in our cares at night.
Hard censur'd, and atton'd by late aduice,
Saluing the worlds scares, as we would your care
Knew we the burthen of it.
With vs the morn is mated with the moone
And we are retrograde to what you doe.
Esteeming conscience, benefite and good.
Challeng'd in seruice of our country:
Sir though our blood affirme vs labour free,
It bindes thee more to busie industry,
Wonder not at our late vpsitting therefore.
S. Vil.
Your humors toile in our extremities,
But we vnthankfull merit contrary,
[Page] Thinke it a want and weaknesse in our kind,
I poste and labour in a toile my selfe,
Seeking my owne: midnight to me is noone,
And all the houres of dull past night,
Sun-shine eclipses, that do much molest me,
Pardon me that am so tedious.
Seeking your owne.
S. Wil.
My eldest daughter is conuei'd from me,
Hurri'd away, as theeues by violence
Conuey their booties from the true mans store.
Auditor, Toures sonne hath done this deede,
A rescue noble Lords.
Rescue and right, challeng the benefite.
S. Wil.
A warrant for a generall search,
Restraints for Cinck-ports, and all passages,
That theenish water doth dispoile vs of.
It shall be sign'd i'th morning,
Draw the contents as you affect the meanes,
And let attendance vrge the early act.
Good night.
God morrow is it not?
S. Wil.
Betwixt them both.
The morall of my misery seeking too late,
That to recouer which I lost too soone.
And yet in each you stand indifferent.
S. Wil.
I must, till perfected by you,
Either late losse, or timely victory,
Recouering what I feare is past aduantage.
Hope the best sir, things at worst,
Season in their decay, as children mend,
Bent in their eye to ruine, yet they pause
Resting in grace, does reobtaine at will,
Opinion in rash iudgement, dooming ill.
Good rest, for we go too't.
S. VVil.
The peace of happinesse be with ye,
I will retire me to my Inne, and wish.
[Page] Howres as short as momentary breath,
For till the morning, minutes howres be,
And howres yeares, such is reuengd to me,
Might I enioy it?
Sir Wil.

My man, a midnight messenger, what is thy haste in leathe sleept, speake is that all one? one all, that we call daughter, gone too, is she?

No sir.
S. Wil.

Wherefore starest thou so wildly, say, weart thou asleepe and wakened? com'st to vs here without thy bet­ter part? and sent abroad, leauing thy wits at home.


Your sonne sir, in all haste sends you his talles, wi­shes your wit and iudgement sodainely, read and regard sir.

S. Wil.

Giue the torch, if you wil see my mother & your wife, fellow'd in bed make haste, Iames your man writes on your pillow &c. my eies are witnesses to their adulterie.

Whats the newes?

Plague on these iauntings, once we shall be old, & then this trotting life will linger in our bones, all howres are our nights, we dally with our owne destruction.

S. Wil.

It cannot be, or if, or if, what if? if it be so I am vn­done, poison'd am I with faire promises, no maruell tho you doe forsweare my bed, if yet againe, if what make I here whē treason is at home, away.

Enter yong Humil.
The bird that greets the dawning of the daie,
Signes with his wings, the midnights parture,
And the sleetie deaw moistning the cheekes
Of morrowes welcome: giues earnest of the morne:
Yet all secure, adultrate lust dos sleepe,
And I the hatcht yong of this troden henne,
Stands Centinell to her idolatrie.
Blow you sweld windes and crack the battlements,
Rouse their incestious luxurie with feare
Of whats to come, yet that were my mishap,
[Page] No silent aire fan on them bawdie breath.
That as they reeke in their licentious loue,
Diuell may seale sure, and Morpheus so pleas'd,
May to their pastime adde affliction
Deliuer'd by the hand of him thats wrongd,
And stands indebted to his desteny:
Yet are they as the hower, whose sandy minutes
Runs out at pleasure till the period comes,
Fast sleeping, and enioy their quiet,
Rouse the blacke mischiefe from thy ebben cell,
Land in the bosomes of this twin in lust,
Him whose heapt-wrong calles vengeance to be iust.
S. Wil.

Locke fast that dore and leaue me. Giue me your light, Sonne Humil?

Enter sir William and his men.
S. Wil.
Thou seest I am obedient at thy call. Exit seruants.
I come as messengers that bring their bale,
Sign'd in their lookes, be well aduis'd,
Thou makest a chalenge goes beyond all grace,
Should it befalse.
It is my loue to you that makes me step
Heart-deepe in disobedience to my mother.
Wretch that I am to thinke her so,
It makes me desperat of prioritie,
Fore thinking my beginning to be bace,
Conceau'd in such mistrust and frailty,
My front hath that impression still,
Adding a blush to my distemperature,
And I am crest-salne in sanguinitie,
Pray ye beleeue me, would it were not so.
S. Wil
Enough watch & be secret, I will enter,
Sit as the night rauen or the skreeking owle,
Ouer my portall, menasing ill chance
To all within: for death is to my blood
A blessing, while this feuor killes,
Almost my intellect or better part,
[Page] Yet shees thy mother, and no sonne but hates
His owne disgrace so highly merrited,
And I beleeue thee.
Sir, trueth is trueth, my conscience and religion
Bindes vp in me, and since I doe proclaime
Detraction from my blood, by her misdeede,
Giue me leaue to report a flye a flye,
If it offend the vertue of mine eie.
S. Wil.
Tis true.
And yet me thinkes it should not be,
How hardlie will this scandall take impression,
Where resolu'd christianity dos dwell?
But I will trie the gold, perhaps tis base,
Who knowes the hearts affection by the face.
Scarlet is scarlet, and her sin blood red,
Wil not be washt hence with a sea of water,
Is this my hand, or is the fire fire?
whose scorching heate dissolues relēting mettall,
When as it tries the substance; yes, and I
Make knowne my mother is an alien,
From my blood, so to fall off, and perish
Euen in her pride of blisse, damn'd be the slaue
That so attempts her spotlesse chastitie
To ruine, I know that yet smooth looke,
Plotted, contriu'd, and woon her with deuise,
She neuer knew a double character till now,
But single singler she euer rulde,
Euen modesty her selfe, Vesta resignd to her,
And vertue hand in hand at barly-breake,
Ran the swift course, none but a hound of hell,
Hunted this fawne of fortune to his kennell,
But my mother, forgetting her degree,
Dos captiuate loue, life and liberty,
By one deedes practise, wicked, nay farre worse,
Fatall disgrace, honours created course.
S. Wil.
Foole, foole, foole.
Enter S. Wil.
[Page] S. Wil.

Light bubble swell and breake, would'st thou beleeue all this, and giue a glosse to slaunders crueltie: ripe­ning reproch it selfe with thy fond eare, o Humil, Humil.

S Wil.

Thou arta villaine, and hast cast vp hilles against heauen it selfe: when sonnes vnto their mothers are so false, O where is grace? hud winekt from honour, sham'd to shew her face.

Is it not so?
S. Wil.
Trust thy owne eies, go, thou shalt see a sight
Will melt thy stubborne spleene in pittie,
Sweetely she sleepes, whose innocent respect
Smiles in her dreames, the childlike gouerne,
Laughing lowd in their simplicitie,
While waking, mischiefe seekes that to vndoe,
Which true requir'd, stands centinell vnto,
Goe and returne with shame.
With shame, diuell of mischance whats this?
Did I not see their cutted guilt looke big?
Was I in traunce of my beleefe, ha, was I?
Can be no iugling in it: can there?
S. Wil.
No thou art constant as the northren starre,
And I as giddy as the vntam'd Leopard,
That sees no meanes but dire destruction,
Flinging his foame to poison in his waie
Mans mischiefe, plotted to his ouerthrow:
Heto'd me true, o that I liue to thinke so,
Or they so wretched to deserue the thought,
Soundly they slept, whose slūbers kild me waking,
Yet to recouer halfe slaine reputation,
Done haue I, what to purpose practiseth
If it preuaile, our honour so reseru'd
Will kicke at all malignant crueltie
That taints our name with euer liuing skorne,
Fortune be for me, I will that recouer,
Which diuell him selfe cries guilty too, my fame
[Page] The flight it wings, imps feathers of renowne,
That left al's lost, my birth-right tumbles downe,
Enter Humil amazed.
Sir I am sorry.
S. Wil.

How can they excuse such wanton loosenesse, know they I stand here to thunder vengeance on their luxury.


My mother's fast asleepe, and I awake, am in a tran­siue maze, vnwitting how to make my peace with God her selfe and you.

S. VVil.
why are they not together?
Not in bed.
S. VVil.
Thou should'st with Argos hundred eyes,
Search in the chinkes and corners round about,
It cannot be but she is extant there, ha, is she not?

I am confounded in the search, please your iustice be my torture, I haue murdered innocence, sorrow is not the way, death is the least, I challenge cruelty and vrge the ex­actest point of perill, slaue that I am to liue.

S. Wil.
A sonne, a sonne, to do so to a mother.
Fare ye well, rather then be a witnes of my wrong,
I will not see my selfe in't, go thou worse then,
Ile sacrifice to the diuill, that tempted thee, all thy
Distempered thoughts, cry mercy to her sectes.
To spotlesse innocence be free, say all thy treasons,
Build on slippery ice, and thou art frozen cruelty,
Sir, for your wrongs, if you remit black torture tis
My hell, and I appeale to sterne rigor, O you sonues,
Whose true obedience shines in maiesty.
While mine more vgly then is vulcans tithye.
Smels ranker then despised Hemlocke
Curse and ban him, I am your subiect to't
And euery mother, whose snow innocence,
Feeles soft and tender, as the downe on palme,
Rate my rebellion with a blisseles name,
And for my sake giue misaduenture aime.
[Page] Guide 'hem to me, say I am such a sonne,
Through whom a mother is so soone vndoone,
S Wil.
Let me not see the while thou liu'st away,
Let thy repentance shew it selfe in this,
Not to be seene where thou hast done amisse.
Catiue depart.
I will; this tongue that slandered,
S Wil.
Be her slaunder still.
It is too much already, was I bewitcht,
That thus at hud-man blind I dallied
With her I honor'd? ô you times how haue you
Nurst me, but no more, Humil hath branded on his
Mothers name, an Aethyops blacknesse, and
A spotted staine, forgiue me that and all.
S Wil.
What need I to afflict reuenge on him
That on himselfe exasperates, farewell thou pride
Of sonnes, who to a father in supposition onely and
by law, art all so louing, that thy mother dalling
With wātones as girles with gauds, thou not respectes
The womb that brought thee forth, but ill attempting
So, and so thou rumorst, as the fault ripe in act,
Is blowne to aire, and though her sonne thou
Vtter'st what they were, thou shalt not loose by't
Now it fits, I challenge from the offence some right,
And adde confine to this adultery
Wife, wife, rise and come forth.
Enter Lady, in her night gowne, and night attire.
Call ye sir?
S Wil.
Yes, take my closset key, let forth your louer,
Giue me some ease by way of reason yet, and t'will
Allay our discontent, O God so new to marriage, and
So stale, couldst thou so soone reuolt, so soone, ha?
Enter Iames vnready, in his night-cap, garterles with the Lady.
I must acknowledg all.
O No, some better looze,
[Page] This will but adde to mischiefe torture
Vse patience now be reconcil'd to feare,
Be doue-like humble, and leaue that to me.
How can I, when the brand is on my brow,
But by exclaime, giue ease to torture,
My braine is scar'd, and I am liueles in't?
S Wil.
Kneele not.
A sentence, let vs dy.
S Wil.
No maruel though you vow this abstinence
When deputed by him, you shunne my bed,
You do deserue your iointer well,
To admit a fellow in a true mans place,
I thanke ye for it, yes.
S Wil.
No, no words I know you can alleadge,
The diuell has scripture for his damned ill,
And this dos neighbor it, go and attire ye.
Be smilefull, and expresse no griefe in sithes,
Rather be tickling sportfull, topt in pleasure.
Then daunted any way, that me concernes.
To vse the mad-mans guise, but I am past it,
Since what is done, no reference hath to wish,
I am for credit sake, supportable, al's well,
Content am I to be senseable, and feele my
Fortunes as I may, ranking my selfe with such,
As sometime liu'd in my repute most base,
Faith all is well beleeue it, I am satisfied:
I know you do repent, and that's my remedy,
Other amends I looke not for, In, and attire ye,
But stay you with me.
I am obedient.
Exit Lady.
S Wil.
Go thou shame, neuer till now possest,
And in a breath confounded, sir, you see your wrongs
Shine through the herne, as candles in the eue,
To light out others, thinke you this misdeede,
Merits saluation?
I must acknowledge contrary.
[Page] S. VVil.

Wilt thou for all this spight, yet vse me kindly in the next?

Iam [...]
Command me sir.
S. [...]
No [...] [...] the second, this mistake me not,
Ratl. to binde thee from it, if he [...]e after,
Fashion of frailty summon vs to feare
I must be plaine, and therfore thus:
Looke when soeuer I hold vp this finger,
Signing my lippes with it, and cry begone,
Euen then be speedy to depart the land.
If not, all power of mischiefe that I can, I will
and so resolue.
Sir, I am ready to the minute.
S. VVi.
It may be, other reasons wil restraine me
As causelesse motiues, nor seeing guiltinesse.

In needy sequences perhaps our heart will in it selfe bake truce with this mischance, or if it doe not, yet attend our spleene, it wil be better for ye,

In humble duty.
S. VVil.

Goe, giue coppies of good countenance to our friends, thinke an is well, for so it is, I that am all in griefe, am all in suffering, I forgiue the reason, Fare ye well.

What I will do, is ba [...]d vp in this closer,
The key that opens it, is my reuenge.
Turn'd by a hand whose palme dus itch with fire
Til al consume, a cuckold, cuckold William s [...]r is
Its euen so, would I were yet the [...]ast or least,
But not by thousands go too then, am I all alone, in this
Who is't that tongue calles man
That is assured of his wiues conditions▪
None, or if any, there the Phoenix liues
Vnfellow'd, be his fate renown'd while mine
Is mockery, and a Iestiue stock, to all that knowes me.
O you starres blaze fire, till this abuse be quenthd
By my desire.
[Page] Enter Tutch like a welch knight, and Filbon as a seruant waiting.
Harke ye Morris.
I Sir.
Where is Tailer? dudge me, will knog his pad,
What is chirken with cold button done, say you.

Excellent, this is welch indeede, O my honest Tutch.

Sause box, rowly powly, am I not your master?
You are sir, pray ye pardon me.
You must haue your left eie Diamiter wise,
Fixt on my right heele, and all the offices,
A seruant owes in dutie to his Master, performe
As naturally as if the fortie shilling time

Were come, left I leaue talking welch, and crack your pate in English.

I shall obey sir.
Enter M. Auditor in a Marchants habite, with Tabitha.
Fairest of beauties, loue her seemely selfe,
For thy two eies are Cupids, which doe shoote
From thy inamor'd bow, shafts all of gold,
Headed with mettall of immortall proose.
In thy faire bosome liues two hearts relenting,
Thine penetrable, through attoning pittie,
Mine longing by desire to scale the fort
Of loues faire presence, make me happie,
Signe to my sute, but ye, for tis thy censure
Makes me thus bold, pronounce faire judgement,
Either of life or death, I that plead loue,
Doubly deuoted, challenge from thy dietie
A maiden answere, let it come bright fire,
To trie the substance of my loues resolue.
Sir, in sooth and veritie beleeue me,
That I am faire tis credible, but to shoote
Arrowes, whose heads haue such immortal proofe,
Tis most erroneous and false, sfoot your a puritane,
[Page] A cittizen Ime sure, her canuas curran bags,
Stuft with sweete sinnomon and cloues,
Good sir you are deceau'd in me, [...]e country plain
Without this nicetie, and do you loue me, yes?
Then craue an answere without ceremonie,
Fetcht from proud Ouid in his Arte amandi.
I doe not like it I.
Ples you Latie.
Sir and you, tell me of Cupids eies,

shot from inamord bowes with hearts relenting, doubly de­uoted, and I know not what.

Ples you firgen.
No sir no, giue me plaine curtesie,
Drawing on loues white hand a gloue of warmth,
Not cheuerell, stretching to such prophanation,
You ouerthrow loues dietie in this,
And putrifie his altars with bad breath.
I am a dairy huswife, no such wanton,
So easily flatter'd with farre fetcht replies.
Yet I esteeme this worthlesse person free,
And tho not faire, yet something fortunate.
Harg ye now Latie.
Sir cry you mercie.

Was a knight, marg you, of Englise in Wales, welse blood, and tis no mock in en to marrie in welse blood, is it?


Sir all the smiles a modest maid, can in this kinde make proffer of, are youres, in your faire welcome, blame me not, though his vnkindnesse made me negligent in your kinde entertaine.

Neglect me so.
Wiues vnto Citizens are trades-mens daughters,
I am a blood of gentle composition,
My minde dos equall it, I must be coacht.
Banckqueted euery where, courted abroad,
At home flattered, for my priuate vse,
[Page] I must haue fancies, playfellowes, as apes,
Monkies, baboones, mufs, fannes, receits,
Costly abilliments of seuerall suites,
Wil ye giue this? twil breake you sir,
And crack your credits faire condition, no,
Citizens would, but cannot answere so.

Harg you, marry with her, and God dudge me, all is yours, was a knight haue land, and a great deale of ri­shes, wil maintaine you well, say you.


This gentleman or this, before a Citizen, you sir pardon me I wil ha none.


Then whom you wil, call you this modestie to be so waspish? giuen to slight men off with inciuillitie, giue me leaue to remember.


What you please, all the world except one or two, my eie motes that trouble but my sight. Filbon for me, man else but meere illusion and idolatry, vaine worship, images of molten mettall, which to drosse dissolud, appeare as nothing to my iudgement, but his worth beyond com­pare, gentle and suffring as the silent aire, that tho it brooke the buffets of base breath, yet in it selfe tis heauenly, free from earth.


Harg you, was knight in house cald Sir William Perger.

Verger sir?

Morris was say true, giue a ducket, looke you tucke it, is marke, marke you that, and marke is 13 shillings foure pence, good currans money, and how doe you? well, whan was sir Robert Morgan, mik you latie, grace a God.

You sir.
Was I lye pray you?
Enter Sir William, sir Rafe, Henry, a Priest of Putney.
S. Wil.
Thinke you Master Auditor, knew nothing sir.
Sir Rafe.
Vpon my soule I thinke it.
I did winde him subtilly as hounds the game,

[Page] New got on foote, for instance he lamented oft his sonnes proceedings, neglecting his owne house, lest you in quest of her should search it, beleeue me sir I tell you what I know.

S. Wil.
Tis likely, sonnes in these doting daies
Wil from their fathers alienate, differ stil
From loues obedience, and in hearts affection,
Ioyne hand to hād, though beggery neighbor it,
And let them go.
Sir I am free then from your feare.
S. Wil.
I good sir Henry I was wrong inform'd,
I am your parron in all loue.
Long may ye line, so sir I find you gentle,
And a good benefactor to poore schollers,
We ha few such, many we rather haue,
That sell the Church rights, then maintaine them,
And in my next stanze, I shall tickle them.
S. Wil.
Speake conscience and no more.
Nay as for that sir pardon me,
I seldome exercise without that thought,
What my text leads me to, I wil pronounce,
Mauger the diuel of iudgement.
S. Wil.
Blesse you gallant knight, a marchant sir,

Of London am I, my estate secure, and so it please you co­uet this faire maid in marriage, nothing else.

S. Wil.
Know you him Sir Rafe?
S. Rafe.

Not well sir, but by guesse, he is indifferent rich, has broke three times, made his head hole by meanes, & that say I, as this world shapes, is secure policie, what think you sir?

S. Wil.

I doe not thinke it so, though common practise finds it furthering shifts, doe the diuel resemble, & banck­rout bacenesse makes good credit tremble, like it not.


Plese you Aunt, harg you now, knight was loue this firgin, and God wil, must make her wife, shall be her laty, [Page] go in Wales, great worship God willing.

Sir VVil.
O know this knight, he was created tother day.
S Raf.

Sir Rober Morgan, ô sir, such a one, whose reputati­on reacheth to the best, merits a good coniunction, wer't my daughter, she should haue him, ô beware when maiesty shines in a mans estate.

They long stand firme, spread wide regenerate
And though base borne, yet honour makes them swell,
Like clusterd grapes, till mature sweetnes brings,
Lussio us conclusion.
S Wil.
I haue some mind to him, sir you receiue
Kind welcome, let it store your thoughts with
Those sweet motions louers wish to enioy, she may,
perchance, all things concluded on, befor ye.
Was a clad man, Morris fetch trunck of parrel
was lye here a foure weeke, will not out now.
Was welcome, plague on you, was loue ye.
S Wil.

Sir, as for you, being citty proud, my daughters looke sits on a Courtiers brow, what saist my girle?

O sir, a Courtier on my life, I loue to sit vp late,
Ly long it'h morning, rot with sweete meates, and
To play at shuttle-cock, me thinkes the games now
In my narmes, in any hand a Courtiers wife and
Why not? his black iet shewes best about
Beauties necke, and I am proude of such
A suter, if I vnderstand not his welche, like
A good peece of ord [...]nance, I shall ly fast vpon the
Bulwarke, and discharge my obedient English
Must be a Lady sir.
S VVil.
Yet welcome sir, let it not grieue you.
Signior no, you'r welcome to the wife I wooe,
And mistres, might I be the man to strike the stroke.
You, or else none, sir Henry.
S VVill.

Troth she saies true, but listen me for that, come Gallants enter with me, we will feast, theres little labour lost, where tryall bids presumption scyrre the coast.

[Page] Henry.
Right to a haire, tis mine, and I must do't
I see my fees, my rich aduantage, sirha boy,
Shall wee haue worke, in faith and shall we?
Conclude, ile busie him, Sir Rafe.
S. Raf.
Sonne, you see to what a happy issue this disguise
Speakes faire, you know the plots, boldly proceede,
Tis ours in action, but your owne the deede, I must
Shunne all suspition by my presence, looke to't boy.
If thou failest now, for euer loose thy ioy.
Ha, ha, master, I a Welchman, a Hangman.

A tricke now on my maiden-head, I did mistrust it, Come leaue the rest to me, this Priest shall marry vs incon­tinent.

I, if I were the Welchman.
Because your father gaue him light thereto.

Therefore come sirha, weele shift clothes, meete vs at Putney as my father shall mistrust ye.

Sir Rafe.
I will, excusing your departure till anone,
do gentle loue.
Heauen on our venture smiles, this to approue.
O it cannot choose.
Fathers are fortunate in this good newes.
Go ye drones, ye do not loue the hiue,
Theres hony in't, tis a sweet thing to winne.

I must breake the ice for ye, if I slippe vp to the chinne, now you will pull me out, saue mee from drowning mistresse.

Feare it not.

I would bee loath betwixt Welch and English, to bee hanged, mistresse, I cannot liue on the bargaine, come sir, Ile shift with them, and now I must shift with you.

I clothes, good Tutch.

And vse me no worse being your man, then I vsed you, being mine.

O better, better.
O loue, thou art a begger, yet I am thy debter.
[Page] Enter two sailers with a truncke, whereinis Mistresse Mary in her winding sheete, others with pick-axe and spades, as on the sands.
Set downe the heauiest load
That euer true affection vnderwent,
To you tis like the Anchor of your ship,
Heauy at first, but easly waied seemes light,
To me, that not supports her bodies waight,
Tis heart deep in the burthen, & too pōderous
Sad, heauy is that load, whose leaden poize,
Is as a sullen sorrow, too, too pressing.
Sir, I would wish you to be briefe.
Dig ho this golden beach, whose glittering sands
Shewes with the sunne▪ as Dyamonds set in gold,
Fitly intombs a iewell of much worth,
Whose liuing beauty staind all lapidary.
She was most gentle which was worth all riches.
And this nights tempest did a cruell deede,
To take from me a vallue of such price.

Sir, though our seas kill women with their frownes vs their bug-beare threates are womanish, and so we leaue e'm.

Leauing your selfe and all, somtime,
Euen so, no safer in our beds,
Or on the land, but vnder deaths black stroke,
And he that is the surest, sits in state,
Dyingly tended by the hand of Fate.
And yet me thinkes death should not
Take her from me, being scarce mine owne.
But newly wed, neuer bedded yet.
So that the Ceremony burning bright,
Himen yet hath his tapers flaming red.
And the bold boastings of that good mans breath.
That all religiously made one of two.
Hardly disgesled in the freezing cold,
Little I thought the priests word being, euer,
Should find his period in so short a time.
[Page] Mr.
Sir, but the gift was giuen ye on condition,
Till death depart, better or worse,
Me thinkes this Catechizing little needes,
To humane guiding, and to you the lesse
Knowing what openly you do confesse.
Beare w'e me maister, he that pines in griefe,
Liues as you sailors doe, thinking at sea,
Euery storme ends, when flattery flouts ye,
So to our loue-sick sorrow comes a calme,
By ease of fancies, when tis furthest,
And many times the weapon that doth wound,
Is salue, and Surgeon both, to make all sound.
Are ye ready sir?
All sitted, let me take my last farewel,
I am all gelly in my teares and sighes,
Wasted by waiting her vntimely losse,
So long I did consume in drops of woe,
That contrary I laugh to thinke it so.
He that weepes much, hauing no teares to spend,
Smiles out the rest, but inwardly does rend,
O God that I ventring so hard a chaunce,
Should loose my dice, before my hand be out,
Tis euen so, in all things man intends
The losse is ours, the winnings not our friends.
M [...].
For charity be briese, should the wind
Turne his beake into the southerne side
Our ship would leaue vs, dally not with griefe,
Once and no more, let sorrow rule as chiefe.
Then thus, and this the last,
Moll, I take leaue yet on thy hersed selfe,
Dead selfe, and selfe slaine. Moll d [...]cest
I am thy morning musike, call thee vp,
To wedded rights, I leade thee to the Church,
And there receiue thee, dine with thee at noone,
Daunce all the after day, bring thee at night
Into the wedding chamber, this is it.
[Page] And here I leaue thee to thy virgen slumber,
Neuer attempted, as thy birth bestowd,
Madam beginning, take it in thy end,
So liue thus die, onely my married friend,
And nothing else, gone art thou to a power,
Which will with welcomes take thee, left I am
To the worlds crosse, thy father who inrag'd,
Will bitterly reuenge thy death on me,
But I will proue his martyr, se-thee Moll,
Foole that I am to say so, here is all,
Gownes, tire, all abilliments of thine,
No rag shall rest remembrant in my viewe.
To stirre the imbers of thy dying fire,
I kisse thy key cold corse, and with this key,
Lock thee for euer vp, farewell, farewell,
My mouth the Church, my voice thy
Parting knell. All cares that liue and heare
This bell to toule, Christian-like bid peace vnto
her soule.
Amen, be speedy mates, see ye not, looke
The blewnesse of you cloud dos threaten winde,
If it rise faire, we shall be lodgd in France,
But not where please the fates.
A board, a board, heie.
a crie within.
Hollo, linger no time aboard, you heare
With me ho, will the rest stay? how a yeare?
O God that man should leaue behind,
And liue, the loue of soule and minde.
Exeunt, and leaue the pikax and spades behinde. Enter Gouernour and a Gentleman.
Sir, welcome to Scillie,
Where I command my brothers friends haue welcome,
But now my flattery gets you on this beach,
Where you prospectiuely see many countries,
Learn this of me, where dāger shootes her string,
We in our neighbour neerenesse ought to feare:
[Page] But arm'd by our foresight, make bold resist
Aginst the brags of forraigne enemies.
I haue not seene a better glasse to looke in,
What country call you you, whose cliffes are as the cloudes
smoake, and all shadowing mists?
Sir that is France, a faire beseeming friend,
On yonder continent stands Ireland,
On this side Brittaine, and on that side Garsie,
Ilands besides of much hostillitie,
Which are as sun-shine, sometimes splendious,
Anon disposed to altering frailtie.
We that all neighbor must so strēgth our being,
As fearelesse we may frolicke yet not seeing.
I vnderstand ye sir.
Now let my longing haue content in you,
With the report of them you lately saw,
My brother Vergir and his children,
Is he a widower still at More-clacke?
Married sir vnto a London cast a way,
One whose decaied husband left to liue,
(Though poorely) yet your brothers Lady.
It is his choice, and I subscribd to't,
But for his daughters sir?
Alas, in them is he vnhappy,
One is haild from him by stolne practises,
The other liues as though she were not his,
A goodly gentle woman, but her owne in heart,
She will be gone to, for her gouernement
Stands vpon will, as men stand on the beach,
Seeing the sea wherein they must be dround,
Yet fearelesse venter on the ruthelesse maine,
She will regardlesse of her father, marry,
And dos as most, long for the miserie,
Signd to them in their cradles.
Sorry am I.
Ha, what scrambled ends heape vp confusedly?
[Page] New digd and ript vp is this plot of ground,
Some Shipwrack on my life, hid to deceiue
The Queene and me of our aduantages.
Likely sir,
And see our sodaine comming scar'd from hence,
In the new ending, such as pil'de this heape,
Behinde them haue they left their implements
Which did the theft, what thinke ye sir if we
Redig the ground, should we depart & leaue it?
At midnight wold they fetch their borrowings.
I like your purpose, ile make one.
What doe you thinke it is sir?
No bodie buried, it is sure some goods,
wrackt on the sea, money or rich commoditie.
Tabacco then.

Tis likely, for with vs men smoke ther lands thorough their nostrels, shall I tell ye sir, tis a commoditie may well be spared.

Good lucke a gods name, sir it is a truncke.
Lift sir.
They lift it out.
Tis quicke, it heau'd as I heau'd it.

Yfaith I thinke so to, in heart of hope I will be all so bold, as to breake way.

They breake the Truncke open, and she sits vp.
If you be men and borne of that weake sex,
Which I my selfe professe, being woman,
Pittie the liuing sorrowe of a maide,
Buried for dead, but backe againe recal'd,
By the diuinitie of heauenly power,
Amaze not, I am creature, flesh and blood,
Not as I see me, a pale and earthly Ghost,
The story when you heare it shall make plaine,
The wofull chance of life so lately slaine.
I had acquaintance with this voice, my cosin.
Tis she, sir, tis Mistris Mary Virger, I know her.
[Page] Marie.
My name recalles my memorie,
And I am such a creature, oh,
My vnckle, where am I? returne againe,
Death thou art wanton in a louers paine.
Cosin I will not question the particulars,
The time calles on a present comfort,
And your life halfe spent,
Makes true necessitie delay no longer,
Therefore come, as leasure we shall heare,
The dying story of your miserie.
How euer, glad I am that such a chance,
Lāded in Scilly not in neighboring Frāce.
Enter in Filbon in welch attire, and Tutch in seruingmans, like one another, with them S. Rafe, M. Auditor & Tabitha.
If euer you vs'd speede, be swift as lightning,
Shoote as the starres in their celestiall sphears,
Go and returne as Paris did from Greece,
With that immatchles Hellen, tell the Priest
It must be done, he will beleeue your haste,
Because twas quickned with the former grant,
And promised by the knight himselfe.
S. Rafe.
Let me alone to make the way, follow you sonne.
And if I doe not let me loose my prize.
Wheres the knight?

Busie with one, who comes as coniur'd vp from Cupids quiuer, stroken deepe in loue, he is a Pothecary.

I know him his mother was a.

Him will I busily attend, go you dispatch while I detaine the father, if this proue, tis comicke pleasure in the schoole of loue.

We must be quick and sodaine, come.
Slip like your Eele.

If any man know any lawfull cause why these two may not marry, now speake, or else for euer mumb, I am gone y faith.

[Page] Tutch.
Master, remember, you ha my tongue.
yes, and thou mine, let me alone to counterseit,
Enter sir William with Humil, like a Pothecary.
S. VVil.
Thinke on your oth.
Sir, if I do not, let me dye.
When I haue poison'd her with this confection:
Be you cloudy kild with sorrow, tis a skin,
Will draw to purpose on the straitest gloue,
But then your promised reward.
S. VVil.
My daughter and my goods,
I haue no other sonne but you, all is thine,
Question not the reason, why this is,
For I haue many, and amongst them one
Sites all the rest, that knowne to thee,
Will rather hasten death, then pitty it.
Go, I will bid my guests, for to this feast:
Shal she haue noble poison, twill cause feare,
Vse lesse suspition, and my mortall hate,
Shall it selfe kenuell in the pride of state.
giue order for the banquet,
S. VVil.
within there.
enter Lady.
Sir, what is your will?
S. VVil.
To murder thee,
he speakes aside
She dies sir, if I liue, I am a Pothecary.
And can knead the paste to purpose, she is gon
Had she a thousand liues laid vp in one.
S. VVil.
Wife, I must haue thee paint,
And set a glosse vpon this louely front,
To moue, and to attract all eies looke as the sonmer,
Which glads all hearts with his bloud-creasing spring:
Vse thy best graces, though most proudly
I will haue it so, fit thee to all state,
Deck't in thy choisest ornament, shine glo-worme,
In the noone of night, for at this supper.
I will haue more then all our friends,
Musike seuerall, Masques and Reuellings.
[Page] In which thou shalt be mounted as the bride,
And I the iolly Bridegrome, will tend on thee,
As duty and the time commands me.
Whereof comes this cost?
S. VVil.
Examine not, but lay your best end now to't
Councell with this Pothecary which I sent for
To the businesse, pray ye vse your art:
For I am bent to this consumption,
Wheres our seruant Iames?
Within sir, shall I call him?
S. VVil.
No, I wil waite on him, for tis my duty.
Such as would spend in feasts, are but the slaues,
To attend the pleasures of consuming knaues.
And I am one of those, he is the flower
That I must crop too in this fatall hower.
Pray ye appoint sir, she will fit you well,
My purse shall puruey what you shall determine,
What we will be wastful sometime, & our owne,
We vncontrol'd may dispose of: tis our loue,
Rather our destinie, hate ioin'd to this brow,
A horne that drawes on death, no matter how.

Sir, in my closset serue your selfe with sugers, there are spices of the purest, vse them in this cost, what else you want, please you command, they shall attend you.

I want vertue in a mother, are you one?
I am a mother to an absent sonne,
But not to vertue wanting, wrong me not.
Wrong not yourselfe.
I neuer will.
he discouers himselfe to his mother.
You haue.
Humil, O my shame and not my sonne.
By thee a mother is made miserable.

By me blacke finne? no by thy owne neglect, made perfect by my true intelligence, and how euer cunning masqu'd and don'd the vissard that so mussled me, I knew not who was in the bed.

[Page] Lady.
Your eies were witnesses.
And holy ones.
Found you the man you loo'kt for?
No, twas a subtill straine, so hudwink't truth,

I am a traytor if I did not see Iames your man fast in your armes.


Thou art a traytor then, if any Iames were there, hee was no man of mine, he was thy father.

Maruell not, at leasure I will tell thee all,
His late returne, the tricke to place him here,
My stay, and his continuing in this house, which
Knowne, thou wilt no sin account, to keep our owne.
O you prophetique Fairies, how dally you,
In concaues of our hearts, sham'd at my errour
I thought for euer to be from your sight,
But thinking, truth was blinded, I forethought
Some following businesse, thus I altered
Comming as one disguised to saue her life,
Dam'd for that fact.
My life?
You must be poisoned at this feast,
Tis I must do the deede, ô mother,
How are you blest in my returne from trauell,
I that to light bring your offence, so thought,
Must be the pardon at your iudgement brought.
Ah me.
No more, much secrecie calles on vs,
Acquaint me with my father, plead my guilt.
We shall with cunning so vnfold this businesse,
That our hopes shall strengthen as they perish,
No idle practise, but a serious toile,
Must bring home conquest from this long wisht spoile.
Enter Henry, Filbon, Tabitha, Sir Rafe, Tutch.
If I lock vp this treason, let me perish,
No sir, my breast is yet an vncorrupt and holy house,
[Page] That harbors in it, nought but honestie, and to do
This wrong to my patron, per deum atque hominem fidem.
No matter if you tell it now, tis done, finis men
Say, concludes the auncient worke, and this
Though newly done, cries so be it.
If keepe secrets, can be but offence, and so tis now,
May be, I loose my place, but theres a friend which
Turning calles detraction, at his heeles liues hope,
Whose cunning quicknes euery fault to fauour.
Why true, and we shall as we may excuse it,
Twas a deede done in welch [...] you vnderstood it not.
Let me alone to buckler thee sir Henry.
Can ye ward your selfe?

This was a passe, twas Fencers play, and for the after venny, let me vse my skill.

S. Rafe.
How euer girle, thou art my daughter now,
What thou shalt loose in father, from thy owne,
Thou vncontrold shalt find as much in his,
And I am he.

And I acknowledge both this in my Lord, my head, my husband, at whose bed I am obedient, at whose board I am obedient: all in all, I am the wife of Filbon, whose rough Welch, hath got a constering English, parse it boy, Nounes, Pronounes, Verbs, Aduerbs, and God giue thee ioy.

With vocatiue ô, your father heares it.
And ablatiue caret, takes his daughter.
Then in pluraliter, ah has a sonne.
So singular and plurall all is done.
Enter Auditor, like a Merchant still.

If euer you were swift be nimble now, what haye married, tide this knot?

I, and the earnest blow giuen, feare it not.
Sir, I haue set my hand to't, seal'd the deed,
Pray God it cancell not in me.
Then part, and euery one be silent.
There is a feast appointed at the knights.
[Page] Tabitha.
Our marriage dinner, is it?

A gallant one, much cost is threatned. And the good old knight vnbuckles from his backe, the libe­rall loade of honour, dos proclaime triumphs, and welcome vnto all, calles for his wife, charges her care, commands his seruant Iames to inuite his guests, which in a rolle stands quo­ted, theres a new come pothecarie, and he bribes, euen grace her selfe in this assembly, and dos promise his furtherance in the businesse, on the sodaine you are mist, daggers and di­uels the knight cries wheres my daughter? one vp ascends to search the chambers, another runs to seeke for this lost daughter. I knowing more then much in this her absence, singled my selfe to warne you of his search, hether will hee come, for he feares yong Filbon, missing the futers, calling for the marchant, I answered not (being absent) in this heat: the welch man, where is he? none can be found, cries out he knowes not what, and all his word is now, a plott, a plott, a plott.

S. Rafe.
What will ye doe?

Kisse and part, till fit occasion of our next salute, Filbon farewell, my husband thinke on me, I am thy treasure but thou bear'st the keie.

S. Rafe.
I will home.
And I will see the rest, what will you sir doe?

Nay I ha done enough, I am vndone in my selfe, Hei mihi quod nullos, I must doe this deede, twas I pauca the rest, Ile home sir, I.


What rests for welch sir Robert Morgan, by God was cragge de pen, and the hangman calles to me, da hum a, da hum a?

I will be at this feast in some disguise.

Ile fit ye sir, tis here, I am tutch right, hic & vbique, euery where.

Enter Sir William Vergir.
S. Wil.
Now smlles the instant, & wrathes wrinckles seeme,
[Page] As smoothed curles vpon a wanton streame,
My hopes grow big, and their diliuery,
Is by our midwife time brought to true birth,
I will not be a pointing stocke tot'h world,
No, if this gossip rumor publish it,
It shall be christned with reuenge and death,
Why when, are we growne sluggards now?
Tardy in bountie, shall we niggard it?
Enter Humil in white sleeues and apron, and others posting ouer the stage with boxes.
Be quicke, carry those sweete meats in,
Bid them that in this businesse haue to doe,
That they attend this rich confectionary,
With no common care, the cost cōmands more loue
And duetie, sir we are fitting to occasion,
Would all your guests were come.
S. Wil.
Tis the feasts duetie to attend,
Thou art a willing mischiefe, hast thou fitted
our purpose to the proofe?
Haue I, thinke you I am flacke?
Pusht on with hope of beautie and reward,
She dies had she a life more deare.
Then the last spring, sole comfort of the yeare.
But I will couer and prepare.
S. Wil.
Doe, doe, my daughters thine, my goods, my all,
Blessed beginning to my sorrowes fall.
Wheres my Lady?
Enter Lady gallant and braue, while Humil and others prepare.
S. Wil.
That one so heauenly faire should earthly be,
Slaue to misfortune, bace in luxurie.
Sir for to please your eie, I am thus quaint,
Good faith I am asham'd in my selfe.
S. Wil.
How and a woman.
Come blaze thy affections to immodesty,
And tho thy vertues contradict the deede,
[Page] Be Venus wanton, smile, with Helens eie,
For I will haue it so.

I was not so brought vp: I shall endeauor, tho my cheekes put on sensuable die of other bashfulnesse.

Sir your honourable guests are come.
S. Wil.
Nay then you wrong me most of all,
Shew not these signes of feare, all's past,
And I am dead in old remembrance,
Troth I am, forget it, as I doe, say on.
Coches so fill the pauements of your dore,
That scarce can passage giue the footemen way,
Tis not amisse you goe to meete them sir.
S. Wil.
Why well said, spoke with courage, & I wil,
Iouiall like a bridegroome, Lady you see,
They waite on vs, and all attend on thee.
Worthlesse I am, but since it is your will,
I borrowe light from sun-shine of your beames,
Who glisters so, giues splendor nothing proud,
Dark'ned by feare, halfe hidden in a cloud.
S. Wil.
Nay hand in hand in faith Iames pardon me,
That dally with the darling of your heart.
Euen so, but little thinking such a thing,
Small gaine springs from that toile, where industry
Sweats in the browes of others victorie.
Enter Humil busily still.
Father be mindfull, this presuming knight,
Plaies with the flame, burnes in the candle-light,
When we shall furnish to disfurnish him,
Of what he yet enioies.
Humil, tis cunningly contriu'd,
and I attend it.
For charitie be swift.
Place your plate, and pile your vitriall boales
Nest vpon nest, These for wines and beare,
The other tend the call of altering diet,
Sirrha, quoth he, we shall [...]t I trow,
[Page] S. Will.
Not well, Iames be gone.

Sir, you shall pardon me, vnles with her being not well.

S. Wil.
Thinke you I will; what leaue my country, sir.
Vpon a slight, a trifle, tis more deare to me.
S. VVil.
Wast not thy promise?
S. William.
Madame, leane on me, Ile bring you to your chamber.
Pre-thee daughter, faith I'me passing ill,
Your honour and the rest must beare with vs,
Tis nothing vsuall, a queasie fit.
The mother.
No, the husband.
Good faith I am not woman sick, though woman
But earnest ill, clog'd at the very stomacke with
A sodaine calme, I feare me tis my death.
S. Wil.
Nurse help to bring her to her closset, do.
Excellent fit, supported by [...]tod.

Plague on't, shall I be left alone, master make haste? But tis my deede, I am author of this shift, hees where hee would be now, Ime where I should be too, but not wel back't, yes now I am.

Enter Sir Rafe.
S. Rafe.
Besecke ye pardon me.
Sir William,
I am wrongd, and to this company,
I make it knowne by comming of thy daughter:
Is my sonne made her indored husband, shall I
Suffer it, call you this curtesie, tis simple craft?

Cloak't vnder thy denial, is this wel to ingrast with vs vn­knowne, and so to ioyne yon [...]ers to heirs, he is my onely all, and married vnto thy daughter?

Enter Filbon and Tabitha.
S. Will.
Ha, Married? Nurse, how is't within?
Shees very ill sir, and I feare.
S. Rafe.

That your disguise is knowne, come iuggle not, call you this Nurse? O thou dissembling boy.

S. William.
Are you mar [...]ied▪
[Page] Tabitha.

Sir I must needs confesse it, he's my husband, & the reason?

S. Wil.

No matter for the reason, I ha done, God boy ye, Conicatcht by a tricke, and so perswaded, good.

S. Rafe.
I am abus'd.
S. Wil.
Yes questionlesse you are, I haue all right.
You haue no wrong sir, I to affirme your word,
When I was woman, and from man I should, and now,
I trust my shape dos challendge but your promise.

I p [...]aid but Iohn come kisse me now saies she, I am Tutch your quondam seruant sir, thrust out to thrust them in, a lawfull marriage is no mockery sir, I counterfeited welch, to ioyne this constring English.

Enter Auditor and his sonne Foures.
What at a gaze sir William? cannot be recald.
S. Wil.

No, no, more mischiefe, nay come all together, welcome.

Thanke ye sir.

My sonne return'd, surrenders to your doombe his life, for yours so lately lost, deputed in your daughter, for she is dead sir, buried in the ile of Scillie.

S. Wil.

Not amisse, whats the next Pagan? all the craft of this is knowne.


Sir had I too hearts to melt this frozen feare, would thaw with passion, the drops distil'd from our tormē ­ted braine, witnessed by these sailers that inter'd her, knowes how I parted with her when she dide.

Is mistris Mary dead?
She is.
S. Wil.
VVell, shall I haue Iustice for her death?
Command it sir.
S. VVil.

To prison with him them, for she is murdred, Sir cause you knew your rapine and your theft, tied to your runnaway legs that clog, you were vncertaine of her portion and our loue, therefore to rid that feare, you rid me thus of her (to me) most deare, my owne, my onely eldest of my [Page] daughters, oh.

Ile be his bale.
S. VVil.

Sir tell not me of bale, for my assurance pleads in his life, and he shall die.

You haue no president for that.
S. VVil.
Yes, remember Donningtons man, Grimes,
VVho for an heire so stolne and married,
VVas hanged, and the sergeant at armes
For assisting them, did loose his place,
If this were done, your theft will hardly scape.
I thought of that indeede.
Enter Iames and Humill disguised still.
Murder, murder, murder.
Ha, by whom?

By this faire counterseit of husband, heres my witnesse, and the deputie in such a mischiefe.

S. VVil.
Nay then.

My wife is made away, poison'd here, and you that should be iust are witnesses.

VVe follow, speake, explaine this mystery.
S. Wil.
Your wife sir.
Yes, supposd for dead, as risen from my graue,
I came to More-clacke, but a little late,
Euen when the lying Priest did call her thine,
She knew it, and deuised with her gloue,
To repossesse me of the house she chalengd.

so honourd, I slept with my owne, but thought the contra­ry, you know what happened, that sonne that so betraid his parents thus disguisd, fearing insuing mischiefe, wrought by you to haue poison'd his deare mother, twas your biding, therefore murder, but the will of heauen bad otherwise, and yet she liues, wife what say you?

Enter Ladie.
That al is so.

And I affirme it true, my shape cast off dos answere▪ sir in few.

S. VVil.
Prettie in faith, no maruell you forswore my bed,
[Page] VVhen you had substance for a property,
Sir you must haue your owne, who can deny it?
And I must as the story runs be mum,
Foold in my selfe by my owne slights vndone.
But whats this to my daughter, where is she?
Here sir.
Enter Gouernour, Mary and others.
Brother Vergir.
S. Wil.
Brother George from Scillie, whats the newes?

That your deare daughter dead and buried sir, by miracle was thus preseru'd, which at more leisure I shall manifest: pray ye forgiue her fault, come theres some wanton blood left yet, saies I, ye will I know, and wrongs past all remedy, the world must vndergo.

My Toures, the dead do [...] liue, I am thy wife, Mary.
Or her ghoast, a shadowe or a substance.

Sister I will teach ye a medecine to make a sha­dowe substance, ly with him to night, as I will with my Fil­bon, & by the morning thinke but what is past, and you will reckon rightly you, hele hold you three to one my medi­cine's true.

S. VVil.

Me thinkes I haue a tickling in my blood crosses all anger, malediction hence, hence, thou ill temper'd Feare, this comicall euent seasons the true applause; since welcome is the word, y'faith, I know not what to say, faine I would, & yet a lazy lagging apprehends with doubt, but well I know not what, in me, it lyes to punish or to pardō I wil be general ly laught at, once insooth I will. I am a widdower, gallants, and you meete at marriages, and funerals, so thinke it pray ye, I abridge all complement, barre all opponents, & resolue to fauour you, you, you, and challenge from your lou, per­swasion to this purpose, since our fate makes vs the worlds fond Idiot, be it so youth, and your fortune was prodigious to it, and my best of spirit, binds vp in this, all is but thank­lesse merit.

[Page] Earle.
Then Epilogue am I,
Imagine all the world were in your house,
And hearing this report with wondring bra ine,
I thus excuse it, Gentlemen you see how fortune
Fauours in extremity, if any botcht vp ill, haue
Shew of good, and is not in thee sequell vnderstood,
Yet beare with all, as this old Knight has done,
Loosing a wife redoubled in a sonne, what you shall
VVant in idugement, seeing this, thinke euery
Act is subiect to amisse, so said, so done, will
Bring to true delight, hands meeting thus,
To signe this blessed night.

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