Act. Prim.
Enter Vaster weapon'd.
A Cuckold? why now it is a common name,
As the shee-Gossip [...] are that giue it vs.
Why doth it not deriue, and spread it selfe.
To all the generations we produce?
Why should not euery child of mine be call'd
Cuckold, as well as Ʋaster, Woman, woman
Thou sad vndoer of the fairest building,
That euer earth bragg'd to be pauement to.
Man, Man; the pride of heauens creation,
Abstract of Nature, that in his small volume
Containes the whole worlds Text, and heauens impression:
His Makers Image, Angels mate, Earths great wonder,
Made to guide all, by woman is brought vnder.
That harmonie, faire Nature made to stand,
Is forced out of tune by womans hand.
A woman hath deform'd me. See, I looke
Like any beast has hornes: an Asse may boast
Himselfe a horne-lesse Gentleman before me.
Yet let not clouds of passion choke my reason.
Why? what's a Cuckold? let's see: define him:
It is a man, whose wife playes the whore. Zilid, what's that to him? It is all one, as if a proper Gentleman should ride on a halting Iade; or a good Musician play on a broken fiddle. Oh but t'will be sayd: Woman could not be so light a shippe, if her husband could well ballast her. It is his insufficiencie. A poxe it is. [Page] Had she Hercules to her husband, shee would enter the listes with some crinkle-hamm'd tilting Courtier. Well then,
I see no reason, that a womans euill,
Should thus transforme man to a horned deuill,
No: 'twas Acteons lusts, and not his wife,
That so bestagg'd him. Hence sprouts al my shame.
Fuller of truth then age, thi [...] rule hath beene:
" Nothing deformes a man, but his owne sinne.
Enter Robert Vaster.
Rob.
Sir, my mother prayes—
Ʋast.
No more of her. Her prayers.
Are putrid sacrifices: like foule ayres,
Too thicke to mount vp to yon glorious feeling.
" When blacke hands are rear'd vp, heauen has no feeling.
Rob.
She is your wife, my mother, Sir.
Vast.
What then Sir?
Rob.
Nothing, but that you wrong her, ô my conscience.
Ʋast.
Oh tis a braue Puritan-world, when boyes talke of conscience! Conscience must lye at the stake, when they play but at blow-point. Sirrah, as you loue your Conscience, hate a wife. Zlid, if I thought thou wouldst marry, I would vnblesse thee, as I haue disinherited thee already: Get bastards, as I would ha' got thee. A woman may serue to lye withal: none good enough to marry.
Rob.
Oh were you not my father, I would let
This passion out of your impostum'd heart—
Why should not I forget, that your bloud moues
In any veines of mine; when you forgoe
The reason of a father, husband, man?
And sticke degeneration on your name?
If I sayle ill, know your example steer'd
My voyage and my vessell. Fathers are more
Then priuate men: their liues are the set copies.
Their children write by; and should there giue
Their imitation patternes how to liue.
Hell's a sad place, they say:—Oh, Ile dare neuer
To follow my owne father leading thither.
Exit Rob.
Vast.
Sirra, call your mother. This boy's a Puritan.
[Page] I that had nere lou'd my selfe to be thought good,
Am highly pleasd to see it in my blood.
From whom deriues this sprigge such fruitfull iuyce;
The father being bad, the mother worse.
Sure, he did sucke this goodnesse from his Nurse.
Poore boy, my riot has vndone thee: poore
Thou'rt made by me, I by a wife turnd whore.
My state is morgag'd to the vsurous hand
Of Gripe: my goods are wasted: all my hopes life
Breathes thus: hauing sold all, Ile sell my wife.
Enter Vasters wife and Robin.
Y' are welcome, Loosenesse.
Rob.
Loosenesse Sir? Oh hell!
She is my mother; pray you, vse her well.
Ʋast.
Be gone.
Rob.
I cannot Sir.
Wife.
Good sonne, a way.
A father giues command.
Rob.
I must obay.
Exit. Rob.
Ʋast.
Make much of you? I will, I will. Neuer man made more of his wife, when he sold her to her smocke. Ile sell thy flesh too Gypsey.
Wife.
Deare husband, I am yet cleare; Oh do not you
Force me to sinne, Ile be for ouer true.
Ʋast.
True? true to the brothell, to the spittle, to the graue.
Thou art deaths agent: a whore is one of his Beadles.
Wife.
Heauen pardon your blacke slanders.
Ʋast.
Come, I'm poore.
Wife.
Who made you?
Vast.
Thou, my content, turn'd whore.
Wife.
Ile worke, or beg for you.
Vast.
No, thou hast wrought
Too much already. Here, here's thy worke.
points to her.
Wilt thou doe one thing?
Wife.
Any thing.
Ʋast.
Then sweare.
And keepe thy oath. Ile trauell to the warres,
And turne thee vp, as some Captaines wont; and trie,
If thou canst liue by thy old trade, or die.
Wife.
Will you forsake me then?
Vast.
Yes, and am iust.
Since thou forsook'st me, and thine innocence,
[Page] Be thy reward proportion'd I must hence.
Whiles thou wast good, to thee I had free desire.
Now thou art prou'd a whore receaue thy hire.
Wife.
Take place, thou tyrant will. Thicke woes here houer.
My state is lower then fate can recouer.
My obedience waits your pleasure.
Ʋast.
Hoh, within there.
Enter Mistresse Marre-maide, Bawde.
Aunt Marre-maid I haue brought you the girle
I promisd. Is the mony ready?
Marm.
By that little honesty I haue to sweare by; a handsome wench. I must pay fiftie pound for her: but if shee were as yong, as faire, I would get fiue hundred pound by her within this moneth.
Ʋast.
Aunt, pray' vse her well: she's my owne sister.
Be petulāt you whore, sprightly frollick—as a Dutch Tanikin.—or—This woman is a Bawd, a very Bawd; you like her the better for that. Come, skippe about, quicke siluer: Dance like a Curtesan, or Ile fiddle ye. You ha' more trickes in priuate, then a Fencer can teach a Lord, or the diuell a Fencer. Life, doe you pule? I must haue fiftie pound for you: Doe y' heare? Let your heeles caper, and your tongue grow wanton, or by these horns Ile gore you—Aunt, shee's somewhat sicke of that rare disease, cald Modesty. But in priuate she's more insatiate then a Puritan.
Marm.
How old are you, faire sister?
Vast.
Not sixteene.
Wife.
About some sixe and fortie.
Ʋast.
Oh you Witch—Aunt, she lies eight and twentie, at least
Harke ye sister,—
Please this old Hagge, make her beleeue y' are right,
And answerable to her Stygian spels:
Or I will beare thee to an Armie, and there
Ha'thy sod flesh sold, lent; and prestituted,
And my selfe Cuckolded fortie times a day.
Leaue this forc'd so bernesse—Aunt, will you heare her speake?
Wife.
I can skippe lighter then the wanton Doe,
And ierke it through the Dale,
I cannot hold, neither my tongue, nor heeles,
(Nor nailes from scratching out a Leachers eyes)
[Page] Sure, I am composd most of the nimbler elements:
But little water in me, farre lesse earth, some aire,
To keepe me humid, mutable, and tender,
And apt for conuolution: but their mixture
Is scarce discernible, th' are so dispers'd.
For my predominant qualitie is all fire,
Pure, radiant, subtle fire.
Vast.
I haue oft seene a couple of light heeles
Carry a sober head: a womans tongue
Reade lectures of ciuilitie; her face
A printed booke, each dimple a sweet line,
That doth to good the Readers eye incline,
Neuer till now a body forc'd to doe,
What the poore mind loaths to consent vnto.
She danceth weeping, laughes and sighes in paine.
So I haue seene (me thinkes) Sun-shine in raine.
Marm.
Enough, I long to imploy her. Cousin, heres the mony. She's mine. Whats your name?
Vast.
Florence.
Marm.
Florence. I like the name well.
Its a good lucky name to make a whore on. You'l stay with me, Florence.
Wife.
Till you are weary of me. Ile but take leaue of my brother, and follow you.
Exit Marmaid.
Ʋast.
What with me?
Wife.
Am I not worthy of one kisse?
Ʋast.
There—now be gone.
Wife.
Be gone? Death could not speake a word more fatall.
Yet one more—so now farewell—
Vniust—vnkind—my woe-diuining heart.
By this we first embrac'd, by this we part.
Exit Wife.
Vast.
I am a villaine, but she makes me weepe.
Why doe I thinke she's false? I neuer saw't.
Tut, all bels ring that tune. It is too true.
I told her that this fiftie pound should carry me to the warres;
But I haue a battle to fight ere I goe.
Old Gripe that has the morgage of my lands,
Lies sicke of the Goute, and seldome stirres abroad.
Some of that race Ile kill, or leaue my owne life
In pawne I would haue done 't. I ha' chalenged
[Page] Beniamin Gripe the sonne, whom the world cals
The Honest Lawyer. He comes.
Enter Beniamin Gripe.
Y'are the sonne of a villaine.
Ben.
If I were, I could not helpe it.
Vast.
Thy selfe's a villaine.
Ben.
Its a ranke lie.
Vast.
Lie? Thou exasperatst
One mad already, that would haue hazard heauen
To make this earth drunke with thy bloud.
Ben.
Its deare, so bought. Twil not redeeme your soule.
Say, with deepe sluces, all these liuely springs,
That runne through the soft channels of my veines,
Should be exhaust by thee, or thine by me,
And burning malice should be quencht in bloud:
He that speeds best, wins what he should abhorre,
And glories to be curst a conqueror.
Vast.
Let Sophisters alone with these distinctions.
Our moderators are our swords: the question,
That cals vs forth, as warlike disputants
Beyond decision of the gowne-furr'd peace.
Draw then thy argument, and let's talke indeed.
We cannot reason soundly, till we bleed.
Ben.
Let's thinke the tearmes, on which we venture bloud.
Th'ffects are waighty, let the cause be good.
Vast.
Thy father hath vndone me, and mine issue.
The law affords no succour: what remaines,
But onely to let him bleed through thy vaines?
Ben.
How haue I wrongd thee?
Vast.
Aske no more. The State
Of our strife is, thou art his Sonne, I hate.
Ben.
No helpe? let fury arbitrate the rest.
This passion must but center in one brest.
Yet let's embrace, and pardon; and euen loue
In hate. O suffer not the dying blood
To preiudice the sad suruiuours good.
They fight.
Enter Curfew the Abbot.
Curf.
What vnexpected clangor frights the peace
[Page] Of my delighted solitary walkes?
What sonnes of mischiefe in their fury tread
These vnfrequented pathes?—stay—hold.
My sonnes, heare age but speake; wisedome is old.
Vast.
Peace, Dotard.
Curf.
On my knees, which doubling age
Hath scarce left able to support my corps:
By the remaining teares of fortie yeares
Spent in this penitentiall order: the last drops,
The drying hand of age hath left to dew
This witherd garden: I implore—beseech.
Ʋast.
Father, you speake to rocks, or the surd waues.
Curf.
Then on this innocent bosome turn your swords,
And ease a weake soule of her tedious portage,
Some houre before her time. O do not flie me.
Let the few drops of my slow-pacing blood,
That stands in my cold channels, expiate yours.
Oh let a falling trunke redeeme two plants.
sight still.
No remedie? let me exclaime for helpe.
(The diuell part you:) if I should now ha'paid for my charitie—well: twas this Church-coate that sau'd me.
Exit crying helpe.
Vast.
Oh thou hast slaine me: hold thy conquering hand.
Heauens, you are too iust pay-masters. Thy sword,
With a fate-sign'd direction, hath cut short
My hoped fortunes in a longer breath.
But I forgiue thee. Flie—stay.
I haue two Orphans in this houre depriu'd
Of a bad Parent. For their mother—nothing.
She has a trade to liue on. O let my dying breath
Beg this one mercie at thy bloud-staind hands:
Releeue them with now thine, once their owne lands.
Ben.
Forgiue my deed, and by that mercie, I
Depend on for my sinnes; my mercy shall
Raise vp the children for the fathers fall. Farewell.
Vast.
He's gone. Now vp againe. My wounds
Exit Ben.
Are slight, yet through their windows, heare I breath
Out all my malice. Noble youth, I loue thee.
[Page] How little of thy father hast thou in thee!
Now for some strange disguise, till time I find,
To pleasure him that was to me thus kind.
Exit.
Enter Valentine.
Valen.
Well, I see there's no liuing in London, The foure winds haue conspirde to blow all the villany of the world thither. When I returnd from my short trauell, I inquir'd, for the knot of my old companions. But like an old Ladie, that has much vsd painting, how suddenly are they broken! I heard of three or foure in Bedlam. Fiue or sixe in Bridewell. Halfe a score ith' Counter. a whole dozen at Tyburne. But Oh, numbers, numbers, vnder the hands of Barber-Surgions. Some turnd Squires to a Brothell. Others walke New-gate lane. Some cheating in Ordinaries. Others prigging in crowds. And the rest, either swomme ouer sea, or drownd vpon a hill. Well, I do not like these proceedings; there bee so many rubbes. I could now begge in Dutch, but its no speeding language. Now my villanie failes on the sea, Ile trie what cheates the land has to worke on. I learn'd some scuruie medicins of our Surgion of the ship: & had no sooner set vp my bils in Bedford here; but a Goutie cure comes halting to mee. Fifty pounds I must haue to heale him. Fiue and twentie I haue in pawne: for the rest, Ile leaue it with the next Quacksaluer, that with more skill shall doe him as little good.
Enter Gripe halting, Nice and Thirsty.
Grip.
Cousin Nice, and my man Thirsty.
Thirst.
Shall I fetch you some drinke, Sir?
Grip.
No. Thy mind runs all oth' pot.
Thirst.
So 't had need, for you keepe mee Thirsty, spight o' my teeth.
Gripe.
Goe you two to the vnder-Sheriffe; and bid him by vertue of this morgage, giue you possession of Vasters lands. The beggerly slaue has broken with me, and Ile take the forfeit. Go quicke, quicke. I will not lose an houre.
Nic.
Ile but goe to the Church for a little holy-water—
Grip.
Be drownd in holy-water.
Nic.
No, but a little sprinkled Sir. We shall haue the better successe in our businesse.
Grip.
[Page]I pree thee good Nice, dispatch, dispatch.
Thir.
I, come, come master Nice. There's good licour it h' house. You may sprinkle your throte with that. Its better then holywater.
Nic.
One thing Sir. I do not like going to day. Sure tis not a luckie time. For the first Crow I heard this morning, cryed twice. This Euen, Sir, is no good number.
Grip.
Poxe o' Crowes and numbers. If thou hadst giuen her a peece of carrion, she would ha' cryed againe. Away.
Nic.
I go, Sir—stay, what if there be a Rauen about the ground?
Shall we then take possession? Oh tis an vnluckie bird.
Grip.
Why, let her croke the downfall of his house.
Whats that to me? prethee good Nice make haste.
Nic.
Nay, too much haste will make one stumble: and thats no good signe.
Grip.
Now, Valentine, Hast all things ready? how now—againe?
Nic.
A toy comes in my head.
Valen.
Poxe o' that head: more toyes yet?
Ni.
How if a Catte sits on the Buttry hatch? Thou we'st proceed no further. My Grandam told me that a Cat sitting on the hatch, was an ill signe.
Grip.
Mew. Beate her off, dash out her braines. Good Nice be not so curious.
Ni.
Oh Sir, it's good doubting the worst.
Exeunt Nice. Thir.
Grip.
Are all things ready, Valentine? this foole troubles mee worse then the gowte.
Ʋal.
Sir, the remedie is verie painfull. I could giue a tedious course of physicke, worse then any sicknesse. Keepe you fasting sixteene dayes together, saue the dyet I giue you. Binde you to the post of patience euery day tenne houres; and haue one still poure scaulding water on you: purge your very heart out: send your eyes out of their holes, to see how your feete doe: make your guttes barke worse, then an hundred dogges at a beare-bayting. But my medicine is sharpe and short, but passing sure. Sir, there be foure kindes of gowte.
Gripe.
No more of kinds. There's no gowte kind to any man, I thinke, but to Physicians. Your remedy short-short.
Val.
[Page]Sir, nothing: specially of no cost. Do y' see this ten-penny naile?
Gripe.
Yes: What of that?
Val.
This naile I must driue through your great toe.
Grip.
What? through the bone?
Val.
Yes, bone & flesh too.
Grip.
Oh-oh-giue me my money. This medicine's worse then any gowte. Oh good Valentine, your tent's too long—too long.
Val.
Then sit and rot: be rack'd still, Ile be gone.
Grip.
Nay, good Valentine: would not a sixe-penny naile serue?
Val.
You'l be Physician, will you? If you'l sit downe and be cur'd, so: if not, farewell.
Grip.
Nay, good Valentine:—euen do thy will.
Val.
Endure it manfully. It's but a brunt—so.
nailes him.
You shall sit but a quarter of an houre, till I ha' been at the Apothecaries, and then Ile loose you. Now farewell, gowty foole, Thou took'st no purge, yet hast a most sharpe stoole. Pray heauens, this kill him not. Well, let him sit.
he takes away his purse with his keis
And this shal go with me. I pray Sr take your case. This plot has tooke; try if some new may hit.
Exit Val.
Grip.
Come-come-Valentine. Oh-neuer was man so farre in my bonds, as I am in this Physicians. H' has nayl'd me to him. That euery whore in London, were but i' my case now. Why Valentine—
Enter Nice panting. Thirsty.
Oh he's come. How now? are you return'd? where's my morgage? out Villaines, where's my morgage? Oh my toe—oh my morgage. I'm vndone.
Thirst.
Me thinkes you are too fast, Sir.
Ni.
Plague o' you and your morgage. Oh my heart-it beats so, that it has broke my buttons. I would not bee so frighted againe to be made your heire. puffe.
Grip.
What's the newes Thirsty? what, what, good Thirsty?
Thir.
Let me vndoe you Master.
Grip.
No, not till I heare of my morgage. What's the matter? oh—
Ni.
The matter? I would not ha' such another crosse, for all the crosses i' your purse.
Grip.
What? oh—what? Is my morgage safe? Hath the vnder-Sheriffe done a miracle, and playd the honest man? what good Thirsty?
Thirst.
[Page]Nothing Sir, but a Hare cross'd the way; and hee, poore timorous soule, durst goe no further for feare of sprights.
Grip.
Oh rogues, pernicious villains, you conspire to couzen me: get out the naile, Thirsty. Hares, and Rauens, and Diuels.
Enter Beniamin.
Ben.
Who has abus'd you thus Sir? could you be so credulous, to thinke this a receyte good for the Gout? Sir, giue me leaue to helpe you.
Grip.
Do, good Ben. but not in this, Ben. not in this. Oh my morgage man, my morgage—run. I shall lose a dayes fruits of my morgage.
Ben.
Come Sir, respect your health aboue your gaine.
I would not for your wealth haue halfe your paine.
looseth him.
Go in Sir, get some broth, looke to your wound.
Your morgage leaue to me, Ile keepe that sound.
Grip.
Take my cousin Nice with you. Come Thirsty, helpe Thirsty.
Ben.
Now for some cleanly tricke to shift my hands
Exit.
Of this same shallow superstitious foole.
Now couzen, I'am sure you are not without an Erra Pater i' your pocket. They say this is like to be a very strange yeare.
Nice.
Most strange, and full of preposterous, prodigious, turbulent, dismall, fatall, amazing, terrifying—
Ben.
Blesse vs. What?
Nic.
Wonders. The effects whereof wil appeare in risings, partly biformed, and partly circular, on mens forheads, and womens mountaines.
Ben.
Is there no sad mortality to ensue?
Ni.
Yes, my Almanacke speakes of a most fearefull pestilence, especially to happen amongst Taylors and Gold-end-men.
Ther's a statute-lace shall vndoe them ifayth. A Taylours Bill shal be no more so deadly as the plagues.
Ben.
Sirrah Nice, I had a dreame to night.
Nic.
Passion o' my heart! a dreame? what? I do not like these dreames.
Ben.
Ile tell thee what. Me thought, my troubled fancie
Led me into a Garden proudly deckt
With Natures glory, and the sweetest flowers,
[Page] That ere my breath suck'd vp: where the greene grasse
Tempted my sleepy spirits to soft repose.
There came, me thought, a friend (dead now long since)
And shooke me by the hand, and question'd me
Of many sad euents, whose conference
So vex'd me that I woke. Why stand'st amaz'd?
Thou wilt not leaue me Coz.
Nic.
Yes, and you were ten Cousins. Dreame of a garden, and greene rushes, and a dead friends salutation? Cousin, make your will, be rul'd and make your will: you cannot liue.
Ben.
Wilt thou be a foole of fate? who can
Preuent the destinie decreed for man? Ile on.
Nic.
So will not I. Good Coz, I leaue you to your destinie. The next newes I heare, the Lawyer's a dead man. Dreames quoth a! and he will not beleeue a dreame, he's an Infidell. One night I dream't that I found gold at a play. Next day I came thither, slatter'd with these hopes. Zlid, before the Prologue had done, I had lost my purse.
Coz▪ if you ha'no faith in dreames, farewell.
I would not dreame of heauen, lest I find hell.
Exit.
Ben.
This charme has cast him off, now to my morgage.
Oh Vaster, thou art dead; thy haplesse issue,
Expos'd to the bleake ayre of these cold times.
I haue no meanes to expiate the wrongs,
My cruell Father, and my selfe more bloudy,
Haue done thee, but by charitie to thine,
All the poore pieces that remaine of thee.
So with the plaisters of our broken good,
We hide the wounds, first hauing shed the bloud.
Within there Hoh.
Enter Robert, and Anne Vaster.
Rob.
Thou com'st vpon thy death, infectious issue of the worlds plague; if thy bloud stained foote enter these dores. Our parents are from home. Till their returne, Ile keepe possession. Or lose it with my life.
Ben.
Incensed Youth.
Thou fight'st 'gainst power with a sword of straw:
As good cope with the diuell, as with the Law.
Anne.
Me thinks, Sir, there should dwell some pittie in your looke.
[Page] Oh, cast an eye of mercie on the woes,
Of two most wretched Orphans; doubly lost,
First in their Parents miseries: but, oh! most
In their vntimely deaths; for we doubt sore,
We neuer shall behold their faces more.
Ben.
My griefe requites you both.
No matter, had it so pleas'd the high powers,
If that my Father had excused yours.
Ann.
Good Sir, forget your strength; and do not triumph ouer the prostrate fortunes of two wretches,
Expos'd to vnresisted tyrannie.
Behold a Mayden begging on her knee—
Ben.
Rise: that's heauens due. These armes now thee intwine,
That wish for euer, to be called thine:
A strange new influence runs through my affections,
Into my panting heart; and there inthron'd,
Commands my lower faculties to loue
This poore distressed Virgin. I am flam'd
With pittie and affection; whether more!
Yet let my senses some coole reason gather:
What, loue the daughter, and haue slaine the father?
(I must: heauen knowes I must). See, my lov'd friends:
My comming to you is for other ends.
My Father sent me to inuade your lands.
A while stand free redeemed with my hands.
There's money to relieue you: that done, you shall haue more.
Despaire not: heauen will not forsake the poore.
Rob.
Right noble sonne of so profest a foe,
Heauen be as kinde to you, as you t' our woe.
Ben.
I burst, if I containe my passion. Fairest Virgin,
If thou dar'st credite me, I loue thee.
Rob.
Hold. Here take your kindnes back: Though we are poore,
My sister was not bred to be a whore.
Forbeare to touch her.
Ben.
Fond Youth, thy rage is vaine.
Th'art young: thy errour doth thy vertue staine.
I loue her as a wife.
Anne.
Oh doe not mock me.
[Page] How can I thinke, you to such fortunes borne.
Will looke vpon a Mayd, so poore, forlorne?
Ben.
Alas! that pouerty should vertue smother.
Not in my brest. No, Ile still honest be:
Vertue in rags are gold's all one to me.
Censure me both, as you shall finde me true,
Ile be your father, and your brother too.
Enter old Gripe brought in a chaire, by Nice and Thirsty.
Grip.
So, let me downe, till I haue seene my new morgage.
How now son Beniamin, ha' you taken possession?
Ben.
Of that you cannot dispossesse me, Sir.
Grip.
No knaue? what wilt thou take my lands before I'm dead?
You are a braue son indeed. But this is the world. If the father be poore, the sonne would be ridde of him, to saue charges. If rich, he must haue his lands ere his bones be cold.
Thir.
They may be cold, for they ha' been rotten these dozen yeeres.
Nic.
I am very hungry.
Thir.
I am very thirsty.
Ni.
But dare not eate, because I was dream'd to night of choking.
Ann.
Now brother w' are, vndone.
The damned father will peruert the son.
Rob.
Gowt, dropsie, lamenesse, rotten legges can hasten
T'vndoe the poore. Vsurers that sit
Bound to their chaires with charms, & cannot moue
But by their porters, can to ill bestirre them.
He needs make haste, that is at hell before them.
Grip.
Ha? for 3. Moneths?
Ben.
Indeed Sir, by that power you put me in,
In charity to their miserable state,
Orphan'd of Parents, and of meanes to liue,
I gaue them 3. moneths profite of the lands.
Grip.
Out Villaine, Charitie's a begger, as thou wut be. 3. moneths! three weekes, 3. dayes, 3. houres had been more charity, then euer I shew'd, or will shew to such beggers. Come Nice, Thirsty, list me: Ile take possession my selfe.
Ben.
I hope Sir, you'l not nullifie my deed.
Exit Thirst.
Grip.
[Page]Deed mee no deedes: Ile nullifie thee from being mine heire. Come, helpe me I say.
Nic.
Indeed Sir, I dare not lift you against the poore.
Grip.
Where's my man Thirsty?
Nic.
He's gone in to drinke Sir.
Grip.
Oh he's a good knaue: he has got possession ot'h house.
Thir.
Of nothing master but the Buttry, I.
Grip.
As lame as I am, Ile in my selfe.
Rob.
Sit still you lethargie: y' had better drop—
Ben.
Containe your selfe, young friend. He is my father,
Let not the warme nest of my loue to you,
Hatch vp encouragement to my fathers wrongs.
Rob.
You are my sterne Sir, at your pleasure guide
This tempest-beaten vessell.
Ben.
Good Sir confirme
This worke of pietie, which I presum'd,
On faith of your good nature to affoord.
Grip.
Sirrah, your good nature will bring you to th'Almeshouse. Thou shalt not inherit a doyt of mine. And for you two Kitlins, Ile make you mew ith Iayle, and there be any law in England. So this chasing fit hath got me the vse of my legges agame. Oh excellent Surgion; would thou wert here againe, for the other 25. pounds.
Ben.
Strange! that same Quack-saluer has done him good, against his will. How fare you Sir?
Grip.
The worse for thee Bastard. Th'hast too much charitie in thee to be the sonne of old Gripe.
Ann.
Deare brother, yeeld possession: wee 'l begge rather,
Then this our worthy friend should lose his father.
Rob.
Sir, be not so incens'd: resume your sonne
Into your former loue, and I resigne
All right, that his free promise hath made mine.
Grip.
Come then, Nice, Thirsty. Oh braue Surgion, I can goe.
Oh braue morgage I can enter.
Exit.
Nic.
M. Beniamin, a sober word in priuate. If this wench want harbour, I care not if I giue her a nights lodging.
Ben.
I haue inuited her with her brother to supper this night.
Will you—
Ni.
[Page]Oh it's Fry-day, and I know you haue flesh.
Ben.
Thou wouldst take her any night. Is she not flesh?
Nic.
Sweet Cousin, I would not eate her. If you please to commend me to her: let me see, for what—I leaue that to you.
Exit.
Ben.
Goe in, let me alone. This petulant foole.
Shall be my scaffold to erect my plots.
Come, friends, vnlode your sorrowes on my heart.
Griefes weight is eas'd; when each one beares his part.
Act. Secund.
Enter Curfew Abbot.
Curf.
THus am I stolne out from the Couent. Abbot,
Ly there, thou happy warranted case
Of any Villaine. Th'hast been my stawking-horse,
Now these ten months. So long 'tis since the Abbot
Went on a solemne pilgrimage and left
My brother, a good honest Fryer, his friend
Deputed for him. But my brother scarce
Warme in his new vice-honour, walking out
To visite me one morning, at my house
Fell dead of an impostume suddenly.
I bury'd him in priuate; but from's bloud
Am purer then the Crystall. Studying now,
How to turne sorrow into policie,
I haue assum'd his shape. Who can deny,
But that a Dunce may rise to Dignitie?
Blind Ignorance doth not alwaies strut in Sattin.
It often walkes a Clergy pace in blacke,
And deales the holy Rites with as bold hands,
As if it grasp'd Ioues thunder: and did iudge it
Enough to stare, looke bigge, and with a brow
More rugged then is Radamanths, denounce
Torrors against ill deeds: the whiles their owne
Are not lesse monstrous, but lesse broadly showne.
Thus in my selfe, how easie't is, I proue,
To sweat out iudgements 'gainst the sins we loue.
[Page] As if a garment of world-couzning grace
Were impudently good, set out by place.
Well, I get nothing by this borrow'd forme,
But countnance to my thefts. This hollow tree
Keeps all my holinesse: Lie there Abbot, till
My worke is done, then doe thou hide my ill.
Enter Valentine gallant.
Masse heres comes one already.
Valent.
Now haue I, like a Parasite, couerd my backe with braines. Out of my vsurers Gowtie toe, I haue spun a faire suite. I would faine heare, whether the diuell be dead or no. Yet I need not be so inquisitiue, for I'm sure he has giuē me nothing in'swill. Now am I in quest of some vaulting house. I would faine spend these crownes, as I got them, in cony-catching. I ha'the game in sent, & will follow it with full cry.
Curf.
Stand—Giue the word.
Val.
Word? what word? am I beleaguerd?
Curf.
Few words are best among friends. Emptie your pockets, and you may vault the lighter. Quicke.
Val.
Th'art an honest fellow, a very honest fellow. In good faith I had no great need of mony; but since thou hast brought me some, Ile not refuse it.
Curf.
Troth, I ha'but a little.
Val.
Faith nor I. we'll euen draw cuts, who shall ha'both.
Curf.
Agreed.—Shall we breathe?
fight.
Val.
Good fortune grant, you be able to pay me for this paines. In sadnes, I deserue double fees.
Curf.
Ile make you plead harder, ere you sit downe to tell your money.
Val.
Looke that your case be good, I shall picke a hole in't else.
Curf.
Well, let the law passe.
Val.
Not altogether so: lest we be both hange.—Stand your ground. Zlid, I cannot abide these running Cockes.
fight.
Curf.
I haue seene a runner winne the battell.—Shall wee draw stakes?
Val.
Ha? a match—Throw by weapons, and lets embrace.
Curf.
I am a villaine, but I feare your clutch worse then a Seriants
Val.
As I'm true theefe, thou maist trust me. Ha sirrah! [Page] Robin Hood, and the Pindar of Wakefield had not a stiffer bout. Shall we cling, like a couple of Eeles, not to bee dissolu'd but by Thunder?
Curf.
Most liberally. Let's set vp shop together.
Enter Vaster disguisd.
Ʋal.
Done: & to begin our trade, behold a customer. Stand close.
Vast.
This russet-shape of a plaine-dealing yeoman
Spirits my hopes with boldnesse. Sharpe suspition
Like to a winking Iusticer shall see me,
And yet not see me. Thus with griefe-swolne eyes,
Ile match my wife, and childrens miseries.
This fiftie pound Ile husband like a Badger;
Buy and sell Barley: and so easily wind
Into the present passages of Bedford.
How good a schoolemaster is Pouertie!
I could not liue on hundreds, that came in
By annuall rents; now I begin to thriue
On the small fragments. Thus like Prodigals,
That once did scorne the meate, now glad of pottage.
The mannor gone, Ile trie to liue oth' cottage.
Bedford, ha'for you.
Curf.
Stand. Giue the word.
Vast.
The word, y' are a theefe.
Val.
You might ha'shot twice, and not hit it righter.
Ʋast.
What do you shoot at?
Curf.
Oh Sir, like your Iesuite, all at the purse.
Val.
Will you cast out the diuell, and saue's a coniuring.
Vast.
Are you so cunning at the blacke Art? Ile trie your skill. What, both at once? that's no faire play.
Curf.
Faire play is for Fencers. Yet thou seemst a good fellow. Thou shalt haue it. Stand aside, partner.
Ʋast.
Saist thou me so, boy? then there's mony, win't and wear't.
Fight.
Val.
Now could I get in and rob 'hem both—Hercules! Hee laies about him like Orlando Furioso, or a coward turnd desperate. Braue boy yfaith. Wee might ha'robd two and twenty Taffata-clok'd rorers, before this freese-iacket. Oh, your surly Bore is like [Page] a bloudy'd Mastiffe: when your spruce Pantaloun bawles like a whelpe in a Tauerne: yet at the sight of cold yron runs, as if he had seene a Serieant.
Curf.
Hold, hold: Keepe your cash.
Ʋast.
The mony's good mony Sir, if it be not too heauy for you
Curf.
Nay, for the weight I could make shift, but for the scuruy conditions goe with it.
Ʋast.
Hau you any gall to't Sir?
Val.
Not not so much as pigeon. Put vp thy cash my braue quintessence of Hobbniols. Giue me thy hand. How many thousand cudgels hast thou broken i' thy daies about a May-pole?
Curf.
I warrant, as many as would make all Bedford chimnies smoke a whole winter.
Ʋast.
Iest on. Ha' you any more to say to me.
Curf.
Nothing my braue Clem o' th Clough, but I would thou wouldst deale with vs. Say, shall wee put all our stockes together, and set out a ship of our owne?
Ʋast.
Ha? first tell me truly what you are.
Curf.
Agreed. Let's sit downe to counsell. I am the Abbot of Newnham.
Vast.
How? much?
Curf.
Ile not bate you an Ace on't, till the old Abbot returnes from Pilgrimage. My chamber shall be our Rendeuous. The diuell himselfe in the shape of a blurting Constable wil not looke for vs there.
Val.
I am a souldiour, and in this vacation time am forc'd to do like Lawyers; when suites do not make them, they make suites: because the warres will not maintaine me, I maintaine the warres. I set vp my Bils in Bedford here, for a Physician, and dealt with Gripe for the Gowt. I haue a proiect to swell our purses till they burst. Will you second me?
Vast.
As inseparably, as a condition does an obligation.
Val.
I haue often heard the gripulous Dotard talke of Fairies: and how rich the house proues that they haunt. I haue ripened the blister of his imagination to the full. Shall we launce it? I haue keys that shall secure our conueyance. Is't a match?
Vast.
The safest stratagem we could deuise,
By craft, more then by strength, all theeues do rise.
[Page] Of many politicke knaues you cannot spie one.
The Foxe will haue his prey before the Lion.
Val.
Two or three nights we'le scatter some small peeces of siluer, till opportunitie plumpe our proiect.
Curf.
I take it rightly. Oh tis quicke and sharpe.
So with a Gudgeon lost, we'll catch a Carpe. A bootie.
Enter Griffin, Sager, Bromley.
Griff.
As I was saying, Master Bromley, why should you take th' aduantage of your neighbour Sager here? Y' haue got the reuersion of his Lease. Ther's is but one life to come in't. Wee are all mortall. It may come ere you looke for't. I loue peace, I loue peace.
Brom.
I say, that life is forfeit: and Ile enter on all. The law is on my side. Ile not be bound to th' peace.
Griff.
Nay Sir, Ile bind no man: but if I could perswade you—to be fleeced both, so I might be kept warme in your wooll—How say you neighbour Sager?
Sag.
Alas Sir, I do but defend my owne.
Nay could be wel-contented to sit downe
With some (though vniust) losse. I iudge it best.
Though with some preiudice to buy my rest.
Griff.
Therein you wrong your selfe: the law is impartiall, like a Bell, as sound on one side, as on th' other, if the clapper be right. Master Bromley a word—What will you iudge me worthy of, If I perswade him to relinquish his right? You know your case—.
Brom.
Here's twenty angels: worke it good Master Griffin, work it; and you shall be my euerlasting Atturney. But if you faile, you must returne.
Griff.
Pish, neuer talke o' that man—Mr. Sager, a word—I loue peace, though I cannot liue by't. I respect my conscience aboue my purse—when t' has no money in't.—What will you giue mee to draw Bromley to a good handsome composition?
Sag.
Not a pennie, till y' haue done't.
Griff.
You know twill go against you, but I loue peace.
Sag.
(I neuer knew't in any of your Tribe.
Th' euent be what it will, Ile giue no bribe.)
Sir, as I like your end—God and my cause,
Are coate of steele, gainst the sharpe fangs of lawes.
Grif.
[Page]Shall we walke on? our iourney's long.
Curf.
Not so long as you take't. Stand, good Mr. Lawyer, shall I puta case to you now?
Ʋal.
Come, vntrusse, we haue hast of businesse?
Curf.
Quicke sirrah, I shall serue an Execution o' your throte else
Grif.
Indeed Gentlemē, I am sorry that I'm not better stored for you. If you had tooke me comming from terme, I could haue serued your turnes better.
Valen.
Bind them, hamper the rogues. Serue a Habeas corpus on that fieri facies.
Curf.
How happy were this common wealth! how sound!
If euery corrupt Lawyers fingers were thus bound.
Vast.
Sager, I know thee poore: here take thy purse.
Though I rob these, no poore man shall me curse.
Val.
Tarry till I lay the Lawyer in the midst of his clients.
Are your talons bound Harpy? Thou liest now like a Stallion new gelt, betwixt two Mares. This is a Distring is, sirrah.
Farewell pettie-fogger.
Secedunt fures.
Grif.
Oh neighbours, I'am vndone, vndone.
Brom.
Then helpe to vndoe me. Ile haue my action against the Rogues.
Sag.
Stay till you catch them master Bromley.
Well, somwhat this my falling state releeues:
That honesty speeds well euen amongst theeues
Brom.
Helpe, helpe. Good master Griffin, your breath's strongest, yawle, yawle. Your tongue could neuer stand your Clients in more stead.
Enter Vasters wife.
Wife.
I heard this way some mans distressed voyce,
Crying for helpe: some robbery. Oh tis no wonder!
A theefe and bawdy house are ne're farre asunder.
Grif.
Oh good woman helpe, helpe to vntie vs.
Wif.
I know 'hem all. Two knaues, one honest man.
They know not me in this translation.
Come Sir, Ile loose you first, helpe you the rest.
Do well to all, but to the good do best.
Grif.
Oh that I had the villaines vpon an execution now.
Wife.
[Page]Would you turne hang-man, Sir?
Grif.
I faith sweet wench, I would shew 'hem the law.
Wife.
Oh pitie them: necessitie has no law.
Perhaps want forc'd them; though it was not good.
What Horseleaches are they, that full, sucke blood!
There is an Inne, enter, refresh your selues.
Exeunt.
Their losse is money, yet I mone their state.
Who pities me most, most vnfortunate!
Robd of a husbands loue, now of himselfe.
How farre is this beyond all losse of pelfe!
He sold me hither; may that sinfull price
Of my deepe sorrow neuer preiudice
His happinesse, what climate euer holds him.
Be blest, sweet husband; let my ruine buy
Thy wishd content, though I forsaken die.
This witch has tyr'd me with her customers,
Whom I haue all sent home with betterd minds.
Against her vicious will, I force her striue
By vertue rather, then by lust to thriue.
I know, I am expected.
Exit.
Curf.
The Iackes be now vncag'd, and flutterd hence.
Vast.
(The woman, that releasd them, I should know.
She frees them from this bondage to a worse.
There is no theefe, like whore, to picke the purse.)
Val.
Shall we not shift ground?
Curf.
By no meanes. A theefes safest residence is in the same plat he did the robberie. There, of all places, the Cuckoldly hue will neuer crie after him.
Vast.
When shall we share the booties, and be proud,
How liberally our diuision mounts?
Curf.
The daies worke done, we'l cast vp the accounts.
Val.
Where's the pettie-foggers Portmanteau?
Curf.
Here.
Val.
Lay't there. So, you shall see me catch a fat Pickerell, with this Gudgeon presently. Stand close.
Enter old Gripe, Nice, Thirsty.
Nic.
Vncle, vncle, I had a certaine scuruy dreame to night.
Grip.
Dreame? what of dreames? good cousin be not so nice.
Nic.
I dreamt—
Grip.
Be hang'd.
Ni.
[Page]Be you hang'd, Vncle.
Thirst.
Behang'd both, except I may haue some drinke.
Nic.
Me thought I found a great deale of money.
Gripe.
I would we had it, cousin, without dreaming.
Thirst.
Whoop master—no part of my finding.
takes vp the Portmantean
Grip.
No matter for a part: all's mine.
Nic.
Nay, all's mine for dreaming.
Thirst.
Nay, all's mine for finding: and Ile keep't.
Val.
Soft, sirrah: it lies there for a wager.
Nic.
What wager, Sir?
Val.
Marry, that who euer finds it, shall loose all the money in's purse.
Nic.
Ile not meddle with it.
Grip.
Ile ha' no part in't.
Val.
Iudgement, Gentlemen: ha' they not lost the wager?
Curf.
Vast. Lost, lost; as sure as Virginitie; no sooner laid then lost.
Val.
Come then to pay, to pay. (Sure this is Gripe, my Bedford-Gowtie-Vsurer. Plague o▪ your stilts; what Carpenter set 'hem vpright? not my wimble, I hope.
Nic.
Oh I am spoyld, spoyld; this tis to dreame of sinding money—I knew, what twould come to.
Thirst.
Saue your labour, good master Theefe: for my breeches are ith' fashion, a great deale of pocket, but no lining.
Vast.
This is the rocke that split me. Oh good fate!
That thou hadst now about thee halfe my state.
Is't sinne to rob the Theefe? by vsurious course,
He once robd me, now I rob him by force.
No difference but this, twixt him and me.
I ha' not such protection, as had he.
Grip.
Oh I am a poore man, a verie poore man.
Vast.
Thou art indeed; wealth without vse doth free
No soule from the bleake stormes of pouertie.
Who cannot natures requests satisfie
Out of his wealth, his coffer's rich, not he.
Val.
Be they all bound to the good forberance?
Vast.
Thus farre quits my reuenge. The Vsurer lies,
As fast in mine, as I am in his tyes.
Now let me kill him. No, bloud shall not die
[Page] My other sinnes in purple. Lye there. Loe!
That the wise lawe would serue all vsurers so.
How few in thy bonds didst thou ere vntie?
Now bound thy selfe, so without mercy lie.
Curf.
Come, let's retire to our refuge.
Secedunt.
Nic.
Vncle, vncle. I would this all were but a dreame too.
Grip.
Oh coz, I am damnd, damnd, my mony's gone.
Elstow morgage is lost. Wallow to me, Nice.
Nic.
Oh vncle, its dangerous tumbling, snakes i' the grasse.
Grip.
Wallow to me, Thirsty.
Thirst.
Master, I'm so drie, I cannot stirre my feet.
Grip.
Helpe.—
Enter Vasters wife.
Wife.
More robberies yet? tis strange, how villains swarme!
Mischiefes hold close to keepe each other warme.
Three ranke corruptions make their neere abode.
An Abby, Bawd'house, and a Theeuish rode.
Where be these men distressed?—how? my Vsurer?
Shall I vnbind him, that hath bound my husband
In mercilesse fetters? Yes, I'm bidden, still;
With good deeds to requite my enemies ill.
Come, diuell, Ile vnlose thee.
Grip.
Oh how I'm crost!
My mony, and my morgage, all, all lost.
Nic.
Masse, a prety wench—If she lay thus bound before mee, I would not loose her, but vpon some conditions.
Wife.
VVill you go in Sir, and refresh your selfe?
Grip.
Ile follow thee, sweete girle. Would I could cope This morgage, though my other be past hope.
Thirst.
Doe they brew wine here?
Exeunt
Vast.
See how this woman still me quits, and crosses.
I rob and binde, and she releeues their losses.
Why doth she thus? Its but a tricke of hers:
By charitie to draw in customers.
I am now patient, but more Cuckold still.
I helpe her to supply, gainst my owne will.
Curf.
[Page]Shall we retire to my chamber, and share?
Enter Beniamin.
Val.
Tarry. Here comes another Iack-daw: let's plucke him, and take his feathers with vs—stand.
Ben.
Thou durst not say so, were we on iust tearmes.
Valen.
You should bee some Lawyer, you stand so on your termes
Faith, we must change professions with you, you must giue's our fees.
Ben.
Youle earne them first?
Val.
Braue Sir, so do not Lawyers alwayes.
But when you'r payd your selfe, you'l giue's our due.
Vast.
Hold, Gentlemen, this is my friend.
Curf.
Thine, noble Valoys? thou shalt begge hisransome then.
Ʋast.
Hee stands secure. Haste to your chamber. There Ile meet you presently, and then wee'l share.
Exeunt.
Ben.
Are thy ends good in this giuen libertie?
Or dost it here alone to murder me?
Ʋast.
Not with my sword, but with a tale shall wound thy amazed heart—come, let's sit downe.
Ben.
What tale? good friend, be plaine and short.
Woe to a heart, by expectation centuples the smart.
Vast.
I haue commendations to you from one Vaster: For by's description you should be the man.
Ben.
Liues Vaster then?
Vast.
'Las Sir, you know he's dead.
And by your bloudy hand was murdered.
Ben.
By me?
Vast.
Is not your name Sir Beniamin Gripe!
Ben.
What then?
Vast.
You kill'd him, Sir. Poore man he dy'd
With penitence to heauen, to you remission.
Sayd, that you did it like a man, prouok'd
By his intemperate rage. Fate gaue that I
Keeping his walke, came to close vp his eye.
Ben.
Heauen pardon me. What sayd the dying Vaster?
Vast.
[Page]He charg'd me seeke you out, and gaue me gold,
To bury him in secret; lest his death
Should hazard yours, and charm'd my silent breath.
Ben.
His loue giues fire to my greene pile of sorrowes.
May his bones rest in peace: in griefe I liue;
Lesse he and heauen do my blacke fault forgiue.
Vaster.
He hath forgiuen you, only this he begges;
That to the scatter'd pieces of himselfe,
Left to suruiue his miseries vncomplete,
His Widow and his Orphans, you would yeeld
Some pittie for your owne, heauens, and his sake:
And teach that hand, (from which he hop'd some good)
To succour theirs, that tooke away his blood.
He bad me tell you, now all meanes were gone,
To expiate that sinne, saue only one:
To hold those vp, that on the worlds sea swimme:
Since he had them vndone, you vndone him.
That you would be to them, as he should be:
This he bequeath'd you as a Legacie.
Ben.
Ile be a iust Executor of his will.
Good friend, great thankes: my purse th'hast spar'd to ceaz
But what is worse, hast robb'd me of my peace.
Ʋaster, th'art dead: if thy transformed soule,
Could from the battlements of you high Tower,
Behold the vow'd endeuours of my heart,
To satisfie thy will and my huge debt,
In thee, to thine, thou wouldst my merit set
'Mongst thy best friends: yet narrow are my bounds;
To giue them plaisters, that first gaue them wounds.
Exit.
Vast.
Farewell Sir, thinke on Vaster.
Ben.
Friend adieu. To Vaster and my vowe I will be true.
How thicke the sharpe pulse of my conscience beares!
How strangely my distracted Phantsie threats!
Oh vnappeased murder, that still keepes
The sensitiue committer from fast sleepes:
And murmurs in the eares a fatall knell
Of restlesse thoughts on earth, of worse in hell,
How deepe thou strik'st me with a silent blow!
[Page] Be patient heart, to thy fate humbly bow.
Fetch him againe I cannot; oh his sowne
Is too too mortall. Why then hurl'd I downe
My sinking spirits? Let me slye to mirth,
And burden cares with wine, to make them sinke.
The worlds rule is, Who feels the lode of conscience let him drink.
But oh importunate griefe! too hard it is,
To counterfet a false and forged blisse!
Yet once Ile force a tryall; I haue here an Inne,
I heare and wonder, is turn'd house of sinne.
Ile see, if the loose sprawles, with their sharpe wit,
Can giue my mind a medicine for this fit.
Whores I abhorre, as Gardiners Iayes: no matter;
Once for experiment, Ile heare them chatter.
Enter Vasters Wife.
Preuention! I thinke here's one of the iourney-women come, to proffer me her seruice. Black prostitution! that any such face should euer waite vpon thee. Sister, what seeke you?
Wife.
What is hard to find:
An honest man, or els my eyes are blinde.
Ben.
Fut, if I say I'm one, I then fall short,
Of the occasion I intend for sport.
I'm such a foole in this Priapus-rode.
Mee thinks, sweet-heart, your honest-man should bee one, that should please your appetite, stirre your veines, tickle your bloud, and make you laugh delight into your panting spleene.
Wife.
An honest diuell.
Th'are friends to hell, that tempt weake soules to euill.
Ben.
Come, let me kisse thee—so: this was with ease;
Words are ayry shades, th'are deeds that please.
Wife.
Sir, do not thinke to enter my chaste fort,
Encourag'd by this parle. You presume—
Ben.
Not to vnlocke thy treasures with such keyes.
Gold only can surprise such holds as these.
And I haue that will doo 't.
Wife.
Then vse it well.
How's wealth abus'd, when it conducts to hell!
[Page] Sir, I will set no price on your desires.
Bon.
Ile be the franker Pay-master.
Wife.
You must: Then pay me for my vertue: so Ile▪ take it.
What starues lust, is well bought; not what it feedes.
'Tis follies dregges, with coyne to buy ill deedes.
Ben.
Come, come; why should you be so quaint, and nice,
That know what belongs to 't? 'Dsso, a Virgin
At thirteene, or perhaps a little vnder,
Could not with whuling nay's be so peruerse,
In her beworded Mayden-head.
Wif.
I must.
Ben.
Thou dost not rightly of my merits deeme.
I would not know you such, as you now seeme.
Ben.
The golden footed law, that goes or runs,
Staies, and turnes backe, as we giue motion to it,
Shall step the pase, which thou would'st haue it. Nay,
Speake as thy tongue instructs it. I will change
Thy pouerty to gold, rich robes, a Coach,
And prauncing Coursers, that shall whirle thee through
The popular streets; and when thou sitst in pride,
The tamed law shall lacquay by thy side.
Wife.
These are some incitations to a heart
Tainted with malice, or that thinkes a heauen
In glorious ostentation; or would stand
Affected with the bane of prurient lust.
I'm of another temper. Pray you leaue me.
Ben.
Thou shalt Nectar drinke:
Make ebrious waste of the sweet Gnossian wines;
Fesants shall be course dyet: refin'd marow,
Small pounded nuts, and losseng'd Amylum,
Scrap'd pearle and date-stones sprinkled on each slice,
And strew'd with sugar, like white frost on yce.
Grant me but loue, Ile raine a showre of Gold
Into thy lappe, out-shining Ioue, when he
Wrapt in his glory courted Danae.
Wife.
Thy language does affright me. Oh my starres!
Ben.
O let not teares spoile such a beauty. Tell mee; Why spill you water like a Crockodile, to captiue mee; that might haue don't with mirth, nimbler then ayre?
Wife.
[Page]Sir, I haue no desire,
To take your lust, but pittie. Some what prompts my credulous heart, there is some goodnesse in you.
Ben.
My truth shall quite thy faith, Impart thy mind.
Wife.
Ile trust you, Sir. I am a wretched woman,
The widow or the wife, I know not whether, of the distressed or dead Vaster.
Ben.
How? I faint to tell thee; thou art then a widow:
The warres haue ended his infortunate dayes.
Nay, let not griefe oppresse thy spirits. Oh,
I haue kill'd the wife and husband with one blow.
Lift vp thy sowning eyes.
Wife.
Oh let me dye. Rather short death, then lingring miserie.
Ben.
Reuiue thy heart: Vaster yet liues in me:
I am his sonne, that hath thy husbands lands.
Wife.
And can I looke for mercy at your hands?
Ben.
Receiue this earnest; all my state is thine.
Wife.
You cannot with these spels charme me to sinne.
Ben.
I do not: when I taint thy chaster eares
With motions of blacke lust, pronounce me Villaine.
Tell me, who brought you to this Brothell-Inne?
Wife.
He, to whom heauen (I trust) hath clear'd all sin.
My Vaster sold me hither. I was content.
Thus to relieue his state, when all was spent.
Ben.
But couldst thou liue infectlesse in this ayre?
Wife.
I haue, and will.
Ben.
Will? This giues strange suspicion.
Wife.
I made a promise, that without consent
Of her that bought me, I would not depart.
Enter Mar-mayde.
See where th' Inchantresse comes.
Marm.
Now minion, you must be gadding. Cry you mercie, Land-lord: if you'l haue any sport, walke in, walke in. You shall take out your rent here, Land-lord. She shall be your own Vacation and Terme too, Land-lord.
Ben.
So, you pernicious Damme of lusts foule littour,
You that buy beauty and do sell 't againe;
[Page] And liue by th'occupation. Heare you? Free
This woman from your brothell slauerie.
Or I shall bring you to the cart and lash.
Marm.
Oh I am cast away; she cost me fifty pounds, I ne're got foure grotes by her yet.
Ben.
Thou shalt lose more by keeping her. Goe cleanse the house from this disorder, or I here discharge thee.
Marm.
Good Land-lord, bestow her where you will. I am content to be rid of her, so I may hold your fouour—
Foxe pull your honesty. Is this the dancing mayde?
One more such purchase will vndoe my trade.
Enter Gripe.
Grip.
Hostice, Ostice, wher's your kinswoman?
Marm.
Yonder Sir, talking with my Land-lord, your Worships sonne.
Gripe.
Son Benlamin? yea faith, are you so close with a wench? Come hither—she's a whore, Take heed on her.
Exit Mar.
If she want mennes, bring her home: she shall keep my house.
Faith, I grow old, and cannot now long liue:
Oh such a Wench would be restoratiue
Perswade her Ben.
Exit Gripe.
Ben.
Ile do my best, Sir▪ See,
The pleased fates consent to succour thee.
My fathers house shall shelter thee vnknowne.
Please the old man with words, but hold your owne.
If my plot takes, as I can hope no lesse,
This lust of his shall thy good fortunes blesse.
Act. Tertius.
Enter Robert Vaster, and Anne.
Rob.
COme, sister to my sorrowes, and my selfe.
They say, society in woes doth lighten
Our pressures; but I finde the contrary.
My woes are heauier by thy companie
My griefe for thy distresse, doubles mine owne.
I should be farre lesse wretched, if alone.
Ann.
[Page]Sweet brother. since we must both suffer, thinke it some comfort, that we share an equall fortune.
Griefe has lesse power to worke on our sad hearts;
Where mutuall loues contend to beare their parts.
Rob.
Little once thought thy mother, that thy fate
Should stoope to seruice to relieue thy state:
We are not try'd, but in our miserie.
He is a cunning Coach-man that can turne
Well in a narrow roome. To manage plenty
In a right forme, commends the state, not person.
Hee's blest, that to be rich can giue consent
With honestie, or rest poore with content.
I wonder, Benjamin doth not visit vs.
His last reliefe is done, if that spring drye,
We faint for succour, and must fainting dye.
Enter Bromley.
See, here comes Bromloy, once our fathers Steward: Sure, hee'l support vs. Sister, cry his kindnesse: thy speech is more pathetical.
Brom.
Theeues, Lawyers, Rogues, Harlots, and Inne-keepers, are mens purgations. Griffin has cheated mee: tooke twenty angels from me; theeues tooke 'hem from him. He promis'd to draw Sager to compound; now the day's gone against me.
Oh I could wish my nailes turn'd Vulturos tallons,
That I might teare their flesh in mammocks, raise
My losses from their carcases turn'd Mummy.
Ann.
Good Sir, a word—
Brom.
Now Kitlin, what would you haue?
Ann.
Sir, remember we are the miserable children of lost Ʋaster; whom once you seru'd.
Brom.
What's that to me?
Ann.
I hope, Sir, you can spare somewat to vs distressed.
Brom.
This is plaine begging. Minion, fall to worke,
And earne supply to wants with diligent labour.
For Vasters sake I will not vrge the Statute.
Rob.
The Statute, Iudas? w' are no Beggers, though
We try'd thy courtesie. Cursed be thy fate,
Thou from our father gott'st thy whole estate.
[Page] Yet grudgest vs some fragments. Hence, out Dogge: If thou stay'st miscreant—
Brom.
Boy, Ile smoke you for't.
Rob.
Do thy worst, diuell. An insatiate worme strike deepe into thy conscience, sile thy heart strings with rubbing flets: And turne thy derogated name,
On foggy blastings of eternall shame.
Exit.
Enter Gripe.
Ingratitude is gone; and in his roome,
Extortion and a fiend is hith or come.
Grip.
I'm going to see my morgage—
Ann.
Good Sir, shew mercy on two wretched Orphans.
Grip.
Out beggers, mercie? what dost talke to me of mercy? I'm going to let my grounds. I haue no leasure for mercy.
Rob.
Goe thou accursed Cain: in miserie,
When thou begg'st mercy, be't as farre from thee.
Ann.
Sir, y' have vndone our Parents; pittie vs.
Grip.
I cannot stay to heare you, I haue businesse.
Exit.
Rob.
Heauen be as deafe to thee, when thy soule breath
Shall begge some respite at thy violent death.
Enter Nice.
This fellow sure will succour vs.
Nic.
Iune, Iuly, August, September—the first day—
Ann.
Sir, raise our prostrate fortunes with some helpe: Some little helpe, you know vs.
N [...]c.
Yes, yes, I remember I haue seene you. Let's see—The fourteenth day—bad. I must do no deed of charitie to day; I haue president for it. 't is lost.
Rob.
Now I remember, when I went to schoole,
I read of one Vespasian a good Emperour,
That told his Courtiers if a day out-slipt him,
Wherein he did nor good, that day was lost.
The next he would redeem't with double cost.
Ill colour'd sinne, how shamefull dost thou looke,
In them that plead thy warrant from their booke!
Nic.
Fourteenth day. A good turne forgotten. Oh heres learning from the starres.
[Page] Though I do little good ere I am rotten,
Like citizens, I would not ha't forgotten.
Yet let me study on't: though a man may not giue, he
May buy, I hope without danger. Faire sister,
What shall I giue you for your maiden-head?
Rob.
Thus much: a broken head.
Ni.
Oh—Oh—Forgiue me, good Calender—I perceiue now, thy counsel's true. It's an euil day indeed: I should neither haue bought nor sold on't.
Exi.
Rob.
Hence, skie-consulting Gypsie: men commit
Sinnes darke as night, and blame the starres for it.
Enter Sager.
Another passenger—Oh this is Sager.
His wife was once a seruant to our mother.
Alas, when these built from our ruinous woe
Releeue vs not, what should this poore man doe.
Sag.
I long to heare from London; how my suite
Ends, or depends: if lost, I'm lost with it.
Who would trust any barres this tottring world
Can plot to fortisie our wheeling states!
When the strong dores of Iustice may be broke,
Or lifted from the hinges by the force
Of politike engines: or the safest locke
Be pickt with a false key.
An.
Sir, dwels there any mercie in your heart?
Sag.
Yes: or of mercy, I must hope no part.
I know you, and your wants. My wife was once your Parents seruant.
An.
True, but that time is past,
And in her seruice now I would be plac't.
Sag.
That were too lauish yeelding to your woe.
I am but poore, troubles haue made me so,
Yet of that small life-blood, which my drencht state
H'as left it by the Lawes sharpe surgerie,
Embrace a portion, as your needs require;
Enter Beniamin.
And I may giue. Here comes your enemies Sonne.
[Page]Ben.
I haue bene seeking all you three with nowes.
Good newes; friend Sager, the day's yours.
Sag.
It's welcome. I haue the better meanes to succour these.
Ben.
You haue preuented my request: I purpos'd
To beg that kindnesse of you. Robin, I would
Intreat you to accept my seruice, but
I meane the name of it: for in deed Ile vse thee
As my most equall and respected friend.
Nan, in thine armes I throw and locke my selfe;
My fortunes be all thine: the key's thy loue;
Let this kisse be the seale. Ye sacred powers
Make indissoluble this knot of ours.
Now, master Sager, giue her that respect,
You would my wife: all charges are my debt.
Robin, you know the house; conduct your sister thither; that done, conucy these letters to the widdow Sorrow; (that's her borrowed name) she lies at my fathers.
Rob.
With iust hands.
I'm prouder of thy loue, then of thy lands.
Ann.
Oh pure quintessence of thy profession.
How many hast thou robd, thus to make vp
Thy perfect godnesse! as if wiser nature
Had made an extract of ten thousand Lawyers,
And thrise refin'd it with immortall fires:
Then set it like a sanctified Lampe
On th' Altar of thy soule; to giue exemplar light,
In the dull darkenesse of this sinne-borne night.
Exeunt.
Ben.
Bromley's growne mad with rage: I'm iealous of him. You know the hopes of your posteritie dwell on your present fortunes: all which burne with the short Taper of your singular life, Say he should quench it.
Sag.
How Sir? murder me?
Ben.
I cannot tell, it's but my iclaousie.
Tis not amisse, to keepe preuentions eye
Open and wary. Instruments of death
Stand ready prest to a malicious arme.
And policie, like a cunning Iesuite,
Watches behind that Arras for a call.
[Page] The deed once done, helpe it who can, or shall.
Sag.
What ground for this suspition find your thoughts?
Ben.
The fury of his madnesse, Enuies some,
That surges from the poyson'd auarice
Of his swolne heart: his broken resolutions,
Wherein his traitor-tongue can scarce forbeare
The protestation. Giue me leaue to feare.
Sag.
What will you counsell me?
Ben.
That must be study'd. Thus—Listen—We'll trie what mischeefes he can warpe: With woodden wasters learne to play at sharpe.
Exit Sager.
Enter Gripe, Nice, Thirsty.
Grip.
Oh my backe, my backe—
Ben.
How do you, Sir?
Grip.
Oh sonne, sonne, worse then euer. The Gowt was but a stitch to this. Oh the Collicke, the Collicke and stone.
Thirst.
There be two of them master, aske the widdow else.
Grip.
Sure it will rend my bowels out.
Ben.
It's iust: The stone ith' bladder now should make him smart That has so long bene sicke of stone ith' heart.
Grip.
Oh that I knew where my old Physician liu'd.
Enter Vaster and Curfew.
Vast.
Keepe on your habite. Our walke's turn'd Pouls, I thinke.
Curf.
Zlid, if our third party were here, wee would venter on 'hem all. Th'are but welsh freeze; they would shrinke at the sense of yron.
Ʋast.
Let's muffle vp our villaines with the shadow
Of some great conference: if a cheate be offer'd,
We'll not refuse: but now to compasse it,
Must not be done by force of armes, but wit.
Grip.
Sonne Beniamin, you must to Goldington,
To view yong Brusters lands: th'are offer'd me
This morne in morgage. Harke you—
Nic.
Thirsty, come hither.
Thirst.
Ha'you any drink there?
Nic.
No; but come drinke thy selfe drunke with Poetrie.
Thirst.
Faith, Poetrie now a daies will scarce make a man drink. I had as liefe be a pot as a Poet: then I should sometimes be full of good liquour.
Nic.
[Page]Oh, your Poet is too full of that, it makes him thred bare. Sirrah, I ha'made a Sonnet here to my Mistresse; she n'ere wrought such a one on her Samplar. Lay thine eare close to my musicall tongue, I shall rauish her.
Thirst.
You shall be hang'd for't then.
Ni.
Open thine eares, like an Oyster a sunning
Euen as the bird, which we Camelion call, doth liue on aire for aye:
So my kinde heart, euer like a stocke-Doue shall feede on thy loue all day.
Thirst.
I, and all night too.
Nic.
I, and all night too: but that night would make the verse too long. Now I talke of night, let me see what time of day it is. I haue businesse, must not be rim'd away.
Curf.
Pray y' Sir, how speakes your watch? One? mine lies inclining to two You haue a prettie interpreter of the time there. Who made it, French or Dutch? You need not doubt me, Sir, I am the new Parson of Saint Peters in Bedford.
Nic.
Sir, then as I may say, haue ioy in your new Benefice, for belly-peece you must ha'none. Pray' lets peruse your watch, see you mine.
Vast.
Fezz 'Sir, y' haue a braue wash there. Chill warrant the Kings wash-maker made it. Beseech you mozter Nice, let me see master Parson wash. Master Pason will you zell your wash, chill giue you good cash for it.
Curf.
No, my honest friend, I will not sell it.
Vast.
Will you runne with me for it?
Grif.
Runne? no.
Vast.
Cheuore ye runne for't, you shall nere ha't else.
Excurrit.
Curf.
Oh my watch—Nic. Oh my watch.
Curf.
Stop the theefe, stop the theefe.
Vaster runs away with Curfews watch: Curfew with Nices.
Nic.
Stop the Priest, stop the Priest.
Thirst.
Let him go, he runs for a wager.
Ben.
How now? is my cousin Nice playing at Bace?
I know one of them well, by his sad tale
Of Vasters death: for that Ile not pursue him.
Grip.
Son, I did rest me, hoping to go forward.
But so increase my paines, I am not able.
Suruey you Brusters lands, and speed returne.
[Page] All's for your good, for I am now out-worne.
Ben.
I goe Sir—All's for me; yet whileshe liues,
And his hydroppicke spirits can looke through
His bodies loope-holes, and conuey the pleasure
Of his contemplate gold, his lusts sole God,
Through those windowes to th' admiring heart:
Nothing comes from him; not the superfluities
Of basers things, not being first improu'd.
I am his onely issue, and on me
I thinke he meanes to settle all his state.
It's the onely way to giue me curst and poore,
To build my nest on such extorted store.
Those fathers, that distress'd mens ruines vse,
" As scaffolds to build vp their racked wealth,
" Proue in the end, like citie-houses, that
" On small foundations carry spacious roofes:
" When the incensed heauens in tempests frowne,
" Their owne top-heauy weight tumbles them downe.
" The first or second generation spils
" By ryot, what by wrong the father fils.
In this Ile be a mirror to these times:
And by the hand of charitie returne
To euery man, what by his couetous rape
Their states are rauish'd of: so worke my rest.
Th'ill gotten gone, that which remaines is blest.
Exit.
Grip.
Oh Thirsty, honest Thirsty. Thy old master is but a dead man. I cannot pisse man: my vrine's stop'd.
Thirst.
You should drinke, hard, master: all this comes with pinching your selfe of your liquour. This is the reason, that so few Dutchmen are troubled with the stone. Your miserable Churle dribbles like the pissing Conduit: but his iouiall sonne with a streame like Ware-water-spout. This is the cause, the Vsurer falling sicke, so seldome rises by the staffe of Physicke: for he has no water for the Physician to cast.
Nic.
Now the Gowt, Dropsie, Lethargie take possession of their legs. I ha'lost my wind, and my watch, and I feare, my wench too.
Thirst.
You haue watch'd faire: sure that Parson was some Irishman.
Nice.
Some hangman vncase him. I ha'bene at the Parsons, and he's no such manner of man.
Enter Marre-maide, Constable, with Valentine.
Grip.
What crew's this?
Mar.
Blesse your worship: I am your Worships sonnes Tenant. I ha'brought a rogue to your worship, to be examin'd.
Grip.
What fault hath has he committed? Clarke, to your office: take his examination. Now neigbour Sleepy, are you Constable?
Thirst.
A good harmelesse Constable, a theefe may take him napping.
Marm.
An't please your worship, the rude Raggamussin comes into my house, cals for drinke; and when the Tapster came with a reckoning, he broke the pot about's head; because he had not a cleane Apron on.
Val.
No, because he misreckoned me.
Mar.
Whose fault was it, to wipe out the score?
Ʋal.
Not mine. Indeede I anointed the score with butter, and the Tapsters owne dog lick't it out.
Nic.
Vncle, vncle, as sure as my watch is lost, this is master Valentine the Physician.
Grip.
Oh Coz, that it were true. Pray' Sir, let me mooue a question.
Val.
You may command my answer Sir, y' are a Iustice.
Grip.
Were not you the man, that heald me o' the Gowt?
Val.
Troth Sir, I haue done so many cures, that I forget a number of my patients. Th'other day I cured a lunaticke [Page] Cobler, pitifully run out at soule, when hee was giuen ore by the Physicians. I let him bloud, tooke three Hen-egges, suck'd 'hem out, into the shels I put his bloud, set them vnder a brood-Goose. When she had hatcht the rest, I gaue these three putrified egges to a Dogge: the Dogge grew madde, the Cobler sober. And now my memorie runs backe, I call to mind one of Bedford, sicke of the Gowt, whom I cured.
Grip.
I am the man, my renowned Paracelsian: thou shalt haue the other 25. pound. Constable, I discharge you. Ostice, I'le see you payd: set your recknoning on my score: trouble me no further: leaue vs, leaue vs. Now my deepe diuer into the secrets of nature, I haue a cure for thee, more desperate then the former.
Exeunt.
Val.
What is't Sir, that my Art cannot extend to?
Grip.
The stone, the stone: I am pittifully grip'd with the stone, I ha'lost my pissing.
Val.
Sir, the disease is somewhat dangerous.
Yet if that your expulsiue facultie
Retaine true force, I'le warrant to make you pisse.
I must awhile withdraw to study Sir.—
Now am I puzzled: bloud, what medicine
Should I deuise to do't? It must be violent.
Giue him some Aqua-fortis; that would speed him.
Let's see. Me thinks—a little Gun-powder
Should haue some strange relation to this fit.
I haue seene Gun-powder oft driue out stones
From Forts and Castle-walls, huger then he
Has any in his reynes or bladder, sure.
Faith,' cause I am a souldier, i'le make triall
Of that same blacke and vaporous Minerall.
I'le shoote into his belly: if the gunne hold,
I▪le giue him charge enough: some Aquavitae
First brewd together would allay it well.
Ile sweare to try it, if I doe not misse,
By a strange tricke Ile make my Vsurer pisse.
Sir, Ile goe in and prepare for aou.
Grip.
Doe so. Here, Thirsty, there be the Keys of the Buttry: [Page] attend vpon him good Thirsty: let him lacke nothing, as thou lou'st me.
Thirst.
I loue you Master, but here's a good key I loue better. Sweete instrument of my ioy, let me kisse thee. Alas, that thou and I should be such strangers. Wee ha' but one barrell: now if that should bee in my masters disease, troubled with the strangullion, and could not runne—well, if it bee not emptie, Ile giu't a scowring.
Exit.
Grip.
Now if this rare wonder of leaches can cure mee of this griping, that I may haue some fortie or threescore yeares more to gather in, by that time I shall gather enough to keepe me all the rest of my life. When a man growes vp to to sixe or seuen score, it is high time to thinke of mortalitie, and to take some ease. These three or foure nights I ha' bene haunted with Fairies: they dance about my bed-side, poppe in a peece of gold betweene the sheetes, scatter here and there fragments of siluer, in euery corner. I keepe my chamber swept, cleane linnen, fire to warme them euery night. I was at first a fraide, they had beene spirits; now I see, they are good harmelesse Fairies. If I can please them, I shall grow rich, rich.
Sonne I haue stayd for you.
Enter Beniamin.
Ben.
You haue done your health the more wrong, Sir.
Grip.
How dost like my morgage?
Ben.
It's a faire liuing, Sir; but I would not haue you meddle with it.
Grip.
Why, my wise sonne?
Ben.
Oh Sir, good deeds are scant,
When we aduantage take of poore mens want.
Bruster's an honest man; lend him some money without such sharpe securitie.
Grip.
Not a doyt. If he come to me, and conuey the morgage I haue it ready; els I haue no money.
Sonne come and sup with me.
Ben.
[Page]I follow, Sir. Preposterous transuersion of our selues!
Th'erection of our faces should instruct
Our groueling thoughts t' ascend. How do men thwart
The teaching hand of Nature, and our birth!
Our heads cut aire, and yet our hearts plow earth:
I looke for Sager here. He's come.
Enter Sager.
Sag.
Heer's my owne case and counterfeit; by this dangerlesse plummet, we may sound the depth of his more close and intricate stratagems.
Ben.
So wiser masters lay some easie baites,
At once to tempt and trie their seruants truth.
The subiect for quack-saluing Empirickes
To exercise their inexperience on,
Should not be men, but malkins.
Sag.
Do you thinke, that he would doe me violence asleepe? would he not wake me to some conference?
Ben.
No, hee's a most ranke Coward; and I know,
Dares not come neere thee, though thou wert asleepe.
If he does ought, he'l do't by that long Engine.
Conceale your selfe awhile. How fares my name?
How does she brooke my slow-pac'd comming to her?
Sag.
Faith, in your constancie lightens all griefe.
She neuer heares you mention'd, but she startles:
As if your name like some celestiall fire
Quicken'd her slow-pac'd spirits with new life.
I neuer knew vertue and beauty meete
In a more happy mixture. I remoue.
Exit.
Ben.
I loue her freely: shee's to me as th'ayre.
Her beauty is best and blest, whose soule is faire.
The Wolfe is come.
[Page] Enter Bromley with a fowling piece.
Brom.
Good euening to you Sir.
Ben.
My wish requite you.
You walke to haue a shoot, Sir: I depart.
I would be loth to preiudice your sport.
Brom.
Saw you not Mr Sager, Sir, of late? This is his walke: I would faine speake with him.
Ben.
Why would you speake with him?
Brom.
Sir, for no harme.
Ben.
I do not thinke you meane it; but you know, hee's valiant like a Lyon: if crosse words should stirre your blouds to quarrell—Sir, take heed. Hee'l be too hard for you, and your long weapon. This medow is his euening walke. Farewell to you Sir.
Exit Ben.
Brom.
Good night M. Beniamin; you need not doubt me.
If I could meet him at th' aduantage now,
He is the Fowle I'd shoot at. His life done,
The Farme is mine. Oh ye, whose hopes depend,
Like Imgring shadowes, on anothers end,
What need you waite with patience natures leasure,
When such an engine can soone work your pleasure?
Tarry: yonder's a man—now by his habite
It should be Sager. What? and fast asleepe?
Wish'd opportunity to my reuenge.
Ile kill him ere he wakes. Stay, grant he should
In this vnbeaten medow lately act
Some horrid sinne, please his adulterous lust:
I should then with his body strike his soule,
And sinke them both together. Reason no further
Thou chiding conscience. See, the Fates haue plac't
Him sit for vengeance: enemie, sleepe thy last.
Hee's Planet-strucke, falne downe: now to my Farme.
He that would rise, must thanke his wit or arme.
Oh but my murder! pish, who euer stood
Exit.
In fortunes height, without some touch of blood?
[Page] Enter Beniamin and Sager at seuerall wayes.
Ben.
This I diuin'd.
Sag.
Happy preuention!
Ben.
Goe, thou despairing wretch, and for thy will,
Ten thousan swords shall thy vex'd conscience kill.
'T was a vaine blow to vs, and no bloud spilt,
Not lesse in thy intention is thy guilt.
This Clergy-habite which you haue assum'd,
Make good a while for your supposed death;
Allow his tyrannie free scope: liue close:
Till time shall ripen those euents, we striue
To build on this vile ground. Hold, ther's my key:
Into my chamber; I sup at my fathers.
Exit Sager.
What, come againe?
Enter Bromley.
Brom.
I cannot be at rest: I must needes see,
If this late murdered corps remoued be.
Some gold I haue put vp in this Portmantua:
If I should be pursu'd, this may relieue me.
Ay me! the bodi's gone: sure it's reueal'd:
Murder from heauens eye cannot be conceal'd.
What shall I doe? sit downe: lye there, my gold.
Enter Nice, and Thirsty, on either side, crying So ho.
Nic.
Holla, Cousin Beniamin. So ho ho.
Thir.
Oh ho ho.
excurrit.
Brom.
Oh me, the Countrie's vp, what shall I do?
Ben.
This foole hath frayd him.
Oh guilt! how hast thou made
Cowherd of man to fly at his owne shade!
Now Cousin Nice, what holla you for?
Nic.
You had need of a bell to ring you in. Your father has stayd supper for you this houre.
Ben.
Come then, let's walke on—what's here a Portmantua?
Nic.
Oh, oh, do not touch it: it's venome.
Ben.
Why my wise Cousin? why are you so timorous?
Nic.
[Page]Oh it lies there for a wager: there be theeues about it. Take heed Cousin; I found a Portmantua once, and lost all the money in my purse. Fly, fly—
Exit.
Ben.
Are you gone? Well, I see now, hee that will be wise by Calender, shall be a foole by destinie.
Sure, this is Bromleys budget, and has gold
Put vp for his escape: 'tis so by th'weight.
It falls into my hands most luckily:
For I haue need of cash in these occasions.
Yet Ile repay't againe: my honestie
Shall be his friend, whose feare was friend to me.
Oh, in this glasse my represented soule
Stands manifest to my impartiall eye.
Ye heauens rayne showers of mercy on my sins:
Lest where my pleasure ends my wo begins.
Act. Quart.
Enter Vasters Wife.
Wife.
RVnne faster, ye dull legges of motion,
That time may follow with a swifter pase.
Let wanton Epicures wish you creeple-limbes,
Insatiate with the ryot of their ioyes;
And chide the hasty forwardnesse of day,
That will not dance attendance on their play.
My spirits wrought vpon with tedious woes,
Thinke that each houre lingring and lazy goes.
Impartiall fates, how you delude our thoughts!
Guiding euents to their determin'd ends,
Whether our strength with or against contends.
Whether the passenger wake, or sleepe his fill,
The waue and wind-mov'd vessell goes on still.
Patience then heart! they do not valour know,
That weary faint, but who can suffer woe.
Who's this?
Enter Rob. Vaster with the Letter.
Rob.
By your leaue, Mistris Sorrow.
Wife.
[Page]Right, th'hast hit my name.
Yet cleare of sinne, my sorrow has no shame.
Rob.
I haue letters from Mr. Ben. Gripe.
Wife.
They're welcome. (poore boy how am I vndone!
Tis hard, a mother must not owne her sonne.
Rob.
Sure I should know that face and language too.
A chill disquiet troubles my soft peace,
And runs like a cold feuer through my bloud.
I'm very sicke of somewhat. Oh 'tis then
Errour, the sicknesse in all minds of men.
But that I know her absence giues her dead.
I' would sweare it was my mother. 'las vaine thoughts,
How you would flatter me!
Wife.
—Your prouident friend, Beniamin Gripe.
Leaue out that Gripe: it's an vnproper name;
Cannot denominate thee for such a creature.
A name can neuer constitute a nature.
If blessed mankinde haue a Phaenix left;
And vice of that good hath not time bereft;
In this degenerate worlds apostacie;
The plurall number's lost: that one is hee,—Sonne
Rob.
Zlid she calls me Sonne.
Wife.
That word's oreslipt.
How easily loue is in her language trip't.
Sonne—of compelling nature not forbeares:
Passion must vent it selfe in speech or teares.
Dost thou not know me?
Rob.
Yes: this testifie.
I begge your blessing on my humbled knee.
Wife.
Rise with heauen's benediction.
Rob.
Liues my Father?
Wife.
Guesse by my greefe and silence.
Rob.
Vm'h my doubts
Wrappe me in further maze. My father dead?
My mother liuing in his enemies house?
Let's study. Oft I haue heard my father mone,
That this same womans lust had him vndone.
[Page] This giues strong faith. Why should shee els liue here,
But to some such vile end? By heauen tis cleare.
Oh that this sappe, which my life feedes vpon,
Did not confesse a deriuation
From that corrupted trunke! Well, I will force
Nature runne backe with a preposterous course.
Ile fashion a forgetfull lunacie,
That ere I was her soone. But on my soule,
Not touch her with least hurt.—Woman come hither.
Wife.
Woman! Deare Robin, not thy mother? blesse mee.
Why dost thou gripe me thus? Oh some blacke storme
Is rising on thy brow.
Rob.
Storme? No, tis thunder. Can you read this?
Wife.
Yes, I can spell't too well. It speakes my death, deare sonne—
Rob.
Come, come, forget
These filiall rights, and Natures attributes.
Prepare your selfe to—
Wife.
What? Oh desperate child.
Oft haue thy bended knees with a iust dutie
Kiss'd the cold earth, to begge my prayers to heauen,
For thy prosperity: oft desir'd forgiuenesse
Of thy wild infant-errors. Oft haue these
Borne thee with soft indulgence: but now, see,
A wofull mother bends her humble knee
To her incensed sonne; not to conserue
This flesh from death, but thy black soule from hell:
Th' vnscaped dungeon, where all Parricides dwell.
Thinke: if thy spirits be not growne mad and wild,
Pitie a mother kneeling to her child.
Rob.
I'm deafer then an Vsurer to your mones.
I must, like Nero, see the place I bred in.
Be briefe in answere: did you neuer wrong my fathers nuptiall bed.
Wife.
Neuer.
Rob.
Take heede.
Clogge not that brest with more sin, that must bleed.
Speake truth and saue your soule.
[Page] Lye you not here to satiate his lust,
That robb'd my father? speake, or y' are but dust.
Wife.
No on my soule.
Rob.
Now on thy soule thou lyest.
Confesse, be plaine, or without pawse thou dyest.
Wife.
Helpe, heauens or men.
Within, breake open dore.
Enter Benia. Valentine, Gripe, Nice, Thirsty.
Ben.
What prodigie's this?
VVife.
Nothing Sir, alas nothing: 'twas but my feare.
Ben.
It is my seruant Sir; he meant no ill.
Grip.
Sonne, sonne, howsoeuer he serues you, I'm sure he does not serue God. Without question, he would haue rauish'd her.
Thir.
He would haue refresh'd her, Sir.
Grip.
Speake widow, is 't not true?—away with him.
Cousin Nice, make his mittimus.
Wife.
It's not amisse to let him feele some smart.
His life they cannot touch: what his offence
Deserues in heauens, strict iustice, mercy pardon.
Parents learne this in tendring Childrens state:
Too much indulgence is not loue but hate.
Nic.
Sure his complexion doth not giue it: let me see your hand, Sir.
Rob.
Will you feele it, Sir?
strikes him.
Exeunt.
Ben.
(Sonne offer violence to the mother?) strange!
Till I can sound this mysterie of ill,
Ile to the prison and relieue him still.
Exit.
Gripe.
You will be gone Mr. Valentine; but I hope you wil visit me shortly againe.
Val.
Before you looke for me, Sir,—if all fall right,
I vowe to visite you againe this night.
Exit.
Grip.
Ha widow! I am cleere of the stone now.
Wife.
The lesse able to do a widow pleasure, Sir.
Grip.
Tut, wench, I meane the disease, the disease.
Wife.
(No Sir: you haue a worse disease behind:)
The body hath no sicknesse like the mind.
Gripe.
Try me, sweet. I'm like a leeke, though I haue [Page] a gray head, I haue a greene—wut? wut be my medicine for the stone? when? when?
Wife.
When you haue married me I will be your wife.
Gripe.
Pish: first make triall how thou likest me: there is no wit, to marry before experience.
Wife.
Your house Sir, is too publike.
Grip.
Hold, ther's the key of my closset. Be thine owne pandar for conuayance. I must receiue a little money: profit is aboue pleasure: about ten—
Wif.
Good lucke direct my hands vnto the morgage.
That found, if or my witte or strength hold tacke,
I haue a medicine Sir, to coole your backe.
Exit.
Grip.
'Las poore wench: now shee's got into my Closset, she hugges her hopes, as a Polititian his ayery plotte, and cryes a prize, a prize. She shall be double cony-catch'd. Wel, it growes Fairy-time. Oh the fine dapper laddes, how they friske about my chamber: when at euery step here droppes a grote, there a teston. Many drops make a floud. Sure, I'm some wonderfull honest man, that they loue me thus. I must to bed. Tarry, how then shall I keepe touch with the widow? Tha't, Ile sit downe in my chaire, and faine my selfe in a slumber. Oh 'twill be a golden waking dreame.
Enter Vaster, Valentine, Cursew, like Fairies, dancing antickes: pinching Gripe, as they passe by him.
Oh-oh-th' are angry. Would I were rid of 'hem. Oh—sweet spirit—oh—doe not terrifie mee thus. What haue I done to prouoke you?
Ʋast.
Confesse thy sinnes. Th' hast some wench in a corner.
Grip.
I haue, I haue—oh—but Ile not meddle with her.
Vast.
Whiles thy house was cleanly swept,
And thy conscience chastly kept:
Neat linnen, fire and water ready;
And thy purpose good and steady:
[Page] Whiles thou neuer sentst the poore
Vnrewarded from thy doore.
Whiles thou wakendst with the chimes,
Because thou wentst to bed betimes,
We brought thee wealth; but ▪twas in vaine:
For now we'll fetch it backe againe.
Come deliuer the keys of your trunkes.
Grip.
Oh theenes, you'll robbe me, you'll vndoe me.
Curf.
No, Gowtie blister, well bind thee, vndoe thee, who will—.
Val
Open thy iawes thou yawning sepulcher:
Here is a morsel for an Vsurer.
Gagge him,
Vast.
A peece of Cheese of the Low-country Dairies.
This is the vsuall diet of the Fairies.
Curf.
Now we will rip the lining of thy trunkes.
Better the Fairies haue it then thy punkes.
Val.
Lucke more, then we can carry, hath assign'd vs.
Curf.
Each horse his lode: we'll leaue the rest behind vs. Thou greedy Panther.
Val.
Sauage Wolfe.
Vast.
Man-eater. Thou fettting Canker.
Val.
Cōmons horsleech.
Cur.
Cheater
Ʋast.
Whose belly has iust cause to sue an action
Of trespasse, gainst thy couetous lusts exaction:
For detinie of many hundred meales,
Which it from others, and thy selfe too; steales.
The Gowt.
Val.
The Dropsie.
Curf.
Collicke, Lunacie,
Like Sprites and Fairies haunt thy company.
And as thou gap'st now, let some Batte or Owle
Spet backewards i' thy mouth.
Vast.
No more. If thou do not
Repent, restore, turne good, sit till thou rot.
Val.
What does Vsurie sticke in thy teeth? spet out, Dog, spet out. Now thou gap'st for a morgage. Dost?
Vast.
Fare-ill. To those that aske how came this euill, Giue answer thus: The Fairies robd the Diuell.
Grip.
Oh—Oh—Oh.
Exeunt.
[Page] Enter Bromley, Nice, Vasters wife.
Bro.
Ho master Gripe? what, your chamber doore ope thus carely? how now, bound? gagg'd? what rogues ha' bene here?
Nic.
Speake to mee vncle, speake: the gagge's out.
Grip.
Saue the gagge. I will hang the whole shire, but Ile find 'hem. Iugglers, Fairies, incarnall sprites! My money, my heart, my guts, my soule—Let me curse my selfe into the ground, and saue a Dirge. Run, cry, ride, charge the Constables with 'hem.
Brom.
Where be they, Sir?
Grip.
Gone to the Diuell. Runne to a Coniurer, cast me a figure.
Nic.
Oh, Sir, all the Coniurers are o' their owne trade. A mischiefe on't, I thought there was some scuruy luck towards; the Crickets did so cry ith' Ouen yesterday. And this verie houre, as we came in, there was an Owle whoo-whooping in the top of the chimney: and iust at the threshold, master Bromley here stumbled Signes, signes.
Grip.
Plucke downe the signes. Ile vndo all the Innes in the towne: they harbour the theeues.
Brom.
You said they were Fairies.
Nic.
Now in sinceritie, I heard a great ratling of chaines.
Wife.
(This makes mee wonder! such a robbery, and I not heare it?
Brom.
Come bridle vp this furie. What will you say, if I can produce you the plotter, abbettor, or at least accessary to this villanie? What if the pick-locke can open the chest of all this stratagem?
Grip.
'Las, poore widdow, she was fast, I warrant you.
Brom.
No, she was loose I warrant you: how could we haue got in, if she had not open'd the dore? Your cousin Nice and I came from a hurly-burly ith' Iaile. Your sonnes man has broke from his keeper. And as we were comming, wee met this woman verie supitiously stealing out.
Wife.
My heart misgaue me thus: this diuels tongue
Would worke my misdeem'd innocence some wrong.
Grip.
[Page]No more words. Cousin, neighbor, take her to the next Iustice. I must not deale in my owne businesse. Let her bee examin'd soundly, soundly: sent to the Iayle, roundly, roundly.
Wife.
Sir, I beseech you.
Grip.
No more. Do not you know, I know you for a whore!
Away with her, I will not heare her speake.
My gold, my siluer—Oh my heart will breake.
Exit.
Brom.
Come, will you walke? Ile leade, widdow, come you next. Master Nice, you'll follow.
Nic.
As close, as beggery followes drunkennesse.
Let me see your hand, widdow—Oh the case is cleare.
A yellow spot doth on your hand appeare.
Gather vp your heeles, widdow: Iustice Surly dwels hard by.
Enter Robert Vaster.
Rob.
How now? my mother guarded? with two rogues?
Sword, thou didst faine to kill her—but—Sirrah—you—deliuer me this woman, or Ile make thy yellow starch'd face serue me for a cut-worke band.
Brom.
Oh Sir, y' are well met; you broke from the Iayle last night. Apprehend him master Nice.
Nic.
I'am somewhat dainty and shy on him, Sir. He lookes vile sharpe on't.
Brom.
Let him looke as sharpe, as an Apparitors nailes, we'll blunt him I warrant ye. Sirrah, I charge you stand.
Rob.
Sirrah, you see I stand charg'd already. Will you haue me run?
Brom.
Oh helpe, helpe—
Exit.
Nic.
Hold, hold, I ha' not made my will.
Rob.
No matter for thy prayers; dispatch it quickely then.
Nic.
You'l giue me leaue, Sir, to make my will.
Rob.
Yes.
Nic.
Then my will is—to runne away.
Exit.
Wif.
Thankes, sonne; but now do you not, like the Lion,
Saue the distressed Lambe from the Wolfes pawes,
For sacrifice to his owne bloudie lawes?
Rob.
Deare mother, pardon; be secure—
[Page] Enter Bromley, Nice, Beniamin, Sager disguised, Anne Vaster.
Brom.
This way, this way: here—Oh haue we found you?
Ben.
How do these mischiefes flutter in thicke heapes!
And cloud my vnderstanding from the light,
I look'd the Sunne should shine, find it darke night
I cannot stand t' examine circumstances.
Now master Bromley, whither are you bound?
Brom.
Your father gaue vs charge to haue the widdow
To master Iustice Surly's; he suspects her
To haue some hand i'th robberie to night.
Sir it concernes you; he has lost 300. pound.
Ben.
Vmh. My father robd? the widdow charg'd with it?
Her sonne vniayld himselfe? these are harsh turnes.
Well, go you two before, prepare the Iustice.
You haue my word for their appearance. Go.
Exeunt. Br. Nic.
VViddow, and Robin, now here's none but friends:
You'l giue me leaue to wonder at these ends.
Of that anone.
Meane time I here present you with a gift,
Dearer to me, then is the Sunne to earth.
So; narrow vp your passions for a space:
H'you the morgage-deeds? giue them my hands.
Yet the successe on my innention stands.
Mother, and brother, (so I hope your titles)
My selfe, and friend here, whom you do not know,
VVill baile you both. That done, I haue an Inne,
Now voyd of Tennant; there dwell all together.
My friendship to the power shall pledge your faith.
Measure good deeds by what man would, not hath.
Exeunt
Enter Griffin.
Griff.
VVhat Damn'd fortune's this, that I cannot smell out these theeues? I would sweate them to the Gallous, as well as they swore me out of my money. An oath like a strong charme, should coniure their neckes into the circle of a rope.
[Page] Enter Bromley, Beniamin.
Oh, here comes my fellow-Patient; wee both tooke Physicke together; purg'd, purg'd: but I haue a cordiall for him. Saue you, brother Gripe. Mr. Bromley, newes, good newes. It's reported, that Sager's dead.
Brom.
Dead? Ile go take possession presently.
Ben.
Do not with too strict rigour exercise your power on his distressed family.
Brom.
My time is come, I will not lose an houre.
Grif.
It's iust, that euery man should take his owne.
Ben.
Sir, you speake law, not charitie. He that will
Be nothing more then iust, is vniust still.
Wo to that quited soule, to whom from heauen
All iustice, and no mercie shall be giuen.
Your mercy to the widdow, to the Orphans.
Brom.
As much as a Puritan has vpon a good feast.
Ben.
Well—let me tell you this—Sager is dead.
So flies report, borne on presumptions wings.
But how he dy'd, that aerie bird not sings.
Kild—but by whom—waight deeply—I must hence.
The muttring's strong—looke to your conscience.
Secedit
Grif.
How's this? kild?—muttering? and conscience? Looke, his ghastly melancholy points him out for the murderer. As sure, as a hatte-brinkes puld downe declares a cuckold, this darkenesse discouers him.
Brom.
I am a villaine.
Grif.
Tell him, that knowes it not.
Brom.
My narrow heart cannot be capable
Of this huge bulke of sorrow. It must out.
Now, to whose bosome better then my friends?
This hand kild Sager.
Grif.
How?
Brom.
Nay, do your worst.
Twas but chance medley, accidentall slaughter.
Intending with my Peece to strike a fowle,
Against my will the cocke went downe, and he
[Page] Stood in deaths way. It was his destinie.
But Griffin, harke you—let not your tongue stirre.
Do not I know you for a forgerer?
And more—you wot—let not your tongue be loose.
Ben.
Thus are two Foxes catch'd in one poore noose.
Exit Ben,
Griff.
Our guilt shall bind our secrecie; who liues
An vnsuspected villaine, winks at others
Vnlawfull deeds, to teach their eye-lids how
To winke at his—Shall we go to our new Hostice?
Brom.
Where? who?
Griff.
For your where, at the Maiden-head, a good likely place. For your who: the wid dow that old Gripe suspects for the robbery; but young Gripe hath tenanted to his Inne. Masse, she preuents vs. Widdow, we were comming.
Enter Wife
Wife.
Pray' Gentlemen walke in; you shall haue attendance.
Brom.
Your company, sweete widdow.
Wife.
Ile not be long from you, Sir.
Exeunt.
Oh, some retiring from this house of sinne.
Fate! I was neuer bred to keepe an Inne.
Enter Curfew, Valentine as themselues, Vaster disguis'd.
More customers? that which all Innes would see;
Great store of guests: this is a plague to me.
Vast.
Yonder's mine Hostice. Now the water's vp, that we cannot get ouer to the Abbey, it is our securest course to commit the money to her custodie. If any search should be made, and these tokens found about vs, we are all dead men: there's not so much mercie in Gripe, as in the Plague.
Curf.
Agreed. Widdow, we haue some money to pay to a Londoner in Bedford here; and he's not yet come to receiue it. Will you locke it vp safe for vs?
Val.
But heare you? Deliuer it not to any one of vs. Except all three demand it to gether, keepe it still.
Vast.
Helpe her to beare it in, and see't layd vp.
Exeunt
Zlid, my wife takes degrees; she rises fairely.
[Page] I sold her hither whore some trickes to do.
Now she's turn'd whore, and Bawd, and Hostice too.
Stand close deare wits, and shadow me disguise.
She cast me downe, and by her fall Ile rise.
Husbands that loue your honour as your life;
Learne now to be reueng'd, on a false wife.
Enter wife.
Wif.
Your friends expect you Sir.
Vast.
Sweet, I would go.
But here's a charming beauty, that sayes no.
Will you walke off a little—to the meddow?
I haue a tiny businesse with you, widdow?
Wife.
What is your will, Sir? I'm in haste: be short.
Vast.
The thing thou wotst on, halfe a minutes sport.
Wif.
Forbeare, libidinous Groome.
Ʋast.
Groome? I'm a man.
And can do, Hostice, what another can.
Come, shall I speake in gold, and action?
Wif.
Be damn'd, inchanter, with thy golden spelss.
Thou thinkst, gold can buy lust, when nothing els.
Yet I do loue thy soule. Think, ethinke, how deare,
A moments ioy is bought with endlesse feare.
How ill the flesh steales his vniust delight,
When the soule suffers an eternall night.
Flatter thy glowing hopes with heate no more.
Be not deceiu'd; thy Hostice is no whore.
Ʋast.
So: spoke my out-side braue; did my rich huske
Allow me impudent; and my vndown'd chinne
Promise my bloud vnsuck'd out by this sinne,
You would runne madde on me.
Wif.
Sooth, thou much errest.
I neuer saw that person (except one,
Who iustly claim'd my loue, now dead and gone)
In whose embracements I would sooner locke the treasures of my heart.
Ʋast.
Now, now, she's comming.
Wif.
If you had mou'd my eares with a chast suite, I should haue listn'd.
Ʋast.
Braue! she's mine already.
Wif.
I cannot loue theenow.
Vast.
No?
Wif.
No, I cannot [Page] conceiue a good thought of thee.
Vast.
No?
Wif.
I hate thee.
Vast.
Heigh? handy, dandy, fast and loose, braue diuell.
Ile coniure you for this. Come, will you loue me?
Or no matter for your loue, will you lie with me?
Doe, or lie alone i'th meddow here. I shall leaue your tempting eyes for the Crowes to picke out.
Wif.
Defend me goodnesse.
Vast.
Whistle not so lowd, lest I cut your pipe, Come on.
Wif.
Honour or life, how shall I saue you both?
Sir, I shall spoyle you. I ha'bene long a sinner.
A common sinner, Sir, and am not sound.
You cannot scape infection, if you touch me.
Vast.
Humh! the poxe, say you? well, you'l not reueale me.
Exit
Wife.
You need not, Sir, distrust my silence. Wrongs
That scape heauens hand, need not feare mortall tongs.
This world's turn'd Bedlam, rauing, desperate-badde.
It stagger'd drunke before, now it runs mad.
More customers?
Enter old Gripe and Beniamin.
Ben.
But, Sir, respect your life, your conscience.
Grip.
Thou saist well, for my life. But for my conscience▪ Tis like a Surgions, that takes money for letting out blood. Thinke o' my morgage.
Ben.
Vpon my life, he'll kill her. O presumption,
How dost thou dare heauens iustice? I must study
To interpose prevention. Sir, I'm your sonne:
This brest you gaue me, and Ile still conserue it,
A faithfull closet to locke vp your secrets.
How will you strike? Pistoll her?
Grip.
No: that speakes
Like an obstreperous Aduocate, too loud,
In th'cares of iustice. Murder, like your Iesuite,
Should whisper death in silence—sleeping silence.
Ben.
I apprehend it, poyson. Sir, Ile buy you
A speedy potion.
Grip.
Not too deare, good sonne.
I would not ha't too deare: my mony's gone.
Two peny-woorth of Rats-bane, w' haue experience,
W'll do't; do't throughly.
Ben.
Ile prouide it, Sir.
Ile be your Apothecarie; but by no meanes
[Page] Minister it my selfe. You must do that, Sir:
I cannot doe you better seruice. Rare!
Then bring my father to the Galhouse.
Be petulant, and let your wanton mirth,
Giue you forgetfull of all wrong.
Enter.
Gripe.
Come widow, I forgiue thee now: I hope thou't forgiue me too. I'm come to drinke downe all malice.
Wife.
Pray' Sir, lead the way. Ile follow.
Looke vp, deare friend: what thus deiects you?
Exit Grip.
Ben.
Wonders, miracles—I must needs poyson thee.
Be not dismay'd, my poyson shall not hurt thee:
Ile tell thee all▪
Enter Vaster in haste.
Vast.
Hostice, Pray 'helpe me to the money quickly. I must pay't instantly.
Wife.
You shall Sir.
Exeunt.
Vast.
So, if my new-borne plots hold constant life▪
Ile cheate my theeues, but aboue all, my wife.
Enter Wife & Rob. with money.
Thanke you, good Widow. Youth, tel the
Gentlemen I'm gone to tender the money. Bid
Exit Rob.
'hem be merry and continue their healths. Ile take my round, when I come againe. Farewell Ostice.
Exit.
Wife.
Y'are welcome Sir,
Enter Curfew, Valentine, Robin.
Val.
Gone, sayst thou? and with the mony? fire and gunpowder! how are we blowne vp?
Curf.
Prettie handsome!
Val.
Ostice—
Rob.
Good leach, stand further off: your breath's too violent▪
Curf.
Did we not charge you not to deliuer the money, but to vs all three together?
Rob.
Masse, tis true. How forgetfully are we cheated?
Val.
You are a coozening woman.
Rob.
You doe lye!
Curf.
Keepe the peace. Ostice, you'l make it good to vs, three hundred pound, a pretty competent summe.
Val.
Furies and Fiends! wits, you do fairly striue.
Curf.
I thought this faiery mony would nere thriue.
Exeūt
Ben.
I haue heard all this roguerie.
Enter Ben.
Cheare, Widow: let not sorrow make thee sicke.
Perhaps, Ile catch the knaues at their owne tricke.
Ent. Thir.
Thir.
So ho-my master's turn'd Reueller. I neuer lost my name [Page] since I came into his staruice, till now. Vck! a miracle, I am not Thirsty.
Enter Nice.
Ben.
Now my wise kindred, why looke you so pale?
Nic.
O, Ile put off my wedding. I will not for all Bedford marry to morrow.
Ben.
No? why?
Nic.
O, my Vncle reaching for a Cup, ouerthrew the salt towards me—towards me. O tis ominous.
Ben.
The falling of a salt keep thee from mariage! well, I haue a strange medicine, of quick cure to this conceited sicknesse. Robin, fetch me some wine. Coz, how dost feele thy selfe?
Thir.
Hee shakes as if he had the gurning agew.
Nic.
Perplexed Cousin, perplexed. I had rather a good Lordship had falne toward me.
Ben.
Tut man, salt seasons all things; fish or flesh.
And troth, thou need'st it: for thy witte's but fresh.
Here bloud, I drinke to thee.
Thir.
Now could I dance like a Dutch Froe: my heeles are as light as my head.
Nic.
Oh I recant. Cousin, I will marry.
Ben.
What meant you Sir, to spill the wine vpon him?
Rob.
'Twas a mischance Sir.
Nice.
No: it was good hap.
Tis a good signe, t' haue wine spilt in ones lappe:
This makes amends for the salt, Sir.
Ben.
I thought this docke would fetch your nettle out.
I see. small wind turnes a fooles mill about. Let's goe.
Exeūt.
Wife.
Yonder comes my Physician and his potion.
Enter Gripe.
Grip.
I haue here two papers: one of sugar, and that's for my selfe: another of poyson, and that's for my Ostice. Let me be right-right. I should make faire worke, if I were mistaken now. Ha widow! th' art a Churle-a very churle, that wouldst not keepe companie with thy guests. I ha' brought thee a cup of wine here: health and bloud to thee, sweete Widow.
Rob.
[Page]A miracle: An Vsurer drunke at's owne cost.
Gripe.
There's a whole cup for thee: pledge mee chucke. Nay tarry, tarry: thou must haue sugar to 't; women loue sweet things, I know. So, off with't bottome and all: the deeper the sweeter. Ha Ostice, my sonne shall giue thee a lease of thine Inne.
Wife.
I would hee could grant me a lease of my life: for I grow sick sir. Robin, looke in.
Exit Rob.
Gripe.
(Excellent rattes-bane) it workes already. Widow, dost remember since thou wast in my studie? and y faith what foundst there?
Wife.
Nothing, but what I left behinde me, Sir. I'm very sicke.
Gripe.
(Ile nere trust poyson els.) This cottons wel yet. No sooner dead, but my sonne shall ceaze on all the goods. Search the coffers for my morgage. If it be lost, yet now shee I keepe counsell.
Wife.
This wine hath made me thirsty: I'm not well.
Gripe.
Hye thee to bedde and sweat. A little posset with two-penny worth of horse-spice. O tis excellent to put one into a sweat. Farewell widow.
Exit.
Wife.
So I'm recouerd now: thy absence cures me.
O earth! thou center of the world and sinne;
Tsty Paradise is lost t'th'art only now
A larger stable, where all vices dwell.
Did not the Sunne shine, I should thinke thee hell.
Enter Vaster.
Lucky! here comes the cheater. Sir, the money is askt for by the Gentlemen, your friends: They threaten to arrest me, but I hope sir, you'l be my quittance.
Ʋast.
Yes: on this condition.
Let me enioy thy loue on this soft ground:
Ile pay it backe, were it three hundred pound.
Stirre not: this chargeth you: are you not content?
Come, with a silent kisse seale your consent.
Wife.
Sir, you know my disease. I'm dangerous.
Vast.
The poxe? O I haue knowne London too long to bee [Page] afraid of the poxe. Come, will you vnlocke? I ha' the golden key. If not, Ile to Virginia, like some cheating Bankrout, and leaue my Creditour ith' suddes. You know the Iayle. Ha you neuer bin hir'd to yawle for the whole prison? and whule to the passengers?
Wife.
Sorcerer, thy circle cannot hold me.
Ʋast.
No, I would haue yours holde mee. Come, will you fadge?
Wife.
Not, if thou killst me: not if thy murderous hand
Could put me to a death▪ (like Iesuites poison)
Ten yeeres a dying.
Vast.
No? you will repent.
Wife.
So wilt thou neuer: take my carcase, slaue:
Whiles there's a soule within; no lustfull hand
Did or shall euer touch it.
Vast.
Politick whore!
What do you ken me now?
Wife.
My husband? ô,
Into your armes I flie.
Ʋast.
Infection, no.
Y are dangerous by your owne confession.
discouers himselfe.
Wife.
Alas! I forg'd that answere, to auoid
Sinfull embracings. Brothels sicke indeed
Of that contagion, sooth and smother't vp,
To tempt distrustfull commers on, at once
To their owne profit, and the others ruine.
They speake false, to do false the safer. I
To saue my conscience did my flesh bely.
Vast.
You cannot tempt me Siren; I am resolute.
Thou art a cunning Bitch, and I am proud
Of such expected meanes to my reuenge.
Harke, how Ile quittance thy abhorred lusts.
First, thou shalt be arrested for the money,
Whereof I cheated thee: so be restrain'd
From thy old straggling, mew'd vp like a haggard;
Till the Assise comes, then thou shalt be hang'd.
I heare thou standst bound ouer for suspicion
Of robbing Gripe. I did the villanie.
Ile ha't prou'd thine: so thou shalt hang for me.
Wife.
Deare husband, do so.
Vast.
Husband me no more:
That name was cancell'd when you first playd whore.
[Page] Now garden-pot, you water your sad feares,
But I am no loue-foole, wonne with womans teares.
Wife.
O prosecute your wil. Thus on my knees,
And with a heart more humbled, I intreat,
And I must haue it granted ere I rise;
Be pleas'd to make this life a sacrifice,
To expiate your wrath. I freely yeeld it,
For your redemption. For your hate I dye;
That might not liue in your loues companie.
If I confesse not guilty, to saue you,
Imagine then all your suspicions true.
But when for your debts I haue payd this life,
Beleeue but then, you had a faithfull wife.
Vast.
O, thou wouldst melt a rocke. My heart's too dead,
To sprout at this wet Aprill. Fare you well.
Exit.
Wife.
Peace and content attend you: and let still
Mercie forgiue, and rectifie your ill.
Enter Ben.
Ben.
What? not dead yet? but weeping? come, come dry
Vp all thy teares: goe hye thee in, and dye.
Much villanie is now together pack't.
The Scene growes full. Your patience this last act.
Exeunt.
Act. Quint.
Enter old Brace, the true Abbot. Abbot.
TO man, how sweet is breath! yet sweetest of all,
That breath, which from his natiue ayre doth fall.
How many weary pases haue I measur'd!
How many knowne and vnknowne dangers past,
Since I commenc'd my tedious Pilgrimage,
The last great worke of my death-yeelding age!
Yet am I blest, that my returning bones
Shall be rak't vp in Englands peacefull earth.
[Page] Oh happy Englishmen, if your sore eyes
Did not looke squint on your felicities!
How other Countries enuy, what you loth,
And surfet on: and would make that their pride,
Which is by your contempt still vilefied!
This sicknesse fulnesse breedes in most mens blood;
None lesse, then the possessors, know what's good.
Now to my deputy: here his glories end.
But stay: he comes to meet me. Ile attend.
Enter Curfew.
Curf.
Confound this damn'd foxe: he has cheated mee of the best prey, I euer shark'd for. Would I could light on him; I haue a Constable here should make him stand.
Brac.
What's this? sharking, foxing, and a pistoll?
Th'embleme of theefe, cheater, murderer?
Sure, this vile Elderne was not of my planting.
I know him: Tis his brother, to whose trust I did infeoffe my place.
Enter Messenger.
Mess.
I was directed this way to the Abbot.
My lord—the Iudge detain'd by sicknesse from to morrow's Session, desires your lordships ayde to the supply of his owne place. Th' assistant Iustices rest their determining sentence on your lippes.
Curf.
Ile giue my old attendance.
Mess.
Your lordships leaue.
Exeunt Mess. & Curf.
Bra.
I leaue your lordship too.
I must about this mischiefe to preuent:
Ile force you both your offices repent.
Exit.
[Page] Enter Iaylour, Gripe, Bromley, Griffin.
Iay.
So, so, so. My customers drop in roundly. Welcome, Mr. Gripe, and the rest of my good friends, welcome! I am very glad to see you here. My house was not grac'd with an Vsurer, and vnder-Sheriffe, many a day before; though I ha' been pester'd with abundance of honester fellowes. Speake, shal' [...] be merry? what will you haue to dinner?
Gripe.
A rope. What dost thou tell me of dinner?
Iay.
No Sir, that shall be kept for your supper.
Brom.
Giue me so me Sacke and Aqua vitae. I wil be drunk presently.
Grif.
It's cleere. I haue twenty cases for't.
The concealing of murder is but man-slaughter. I must ha' my booke.
Brom.
Giue 's some Sacke, I say: mun tut, &c.
Enter Nice.
Nice.
My Vncle committed? Iustice it selfe sent to the Iayle?
Gripe.
Cousin, sweet Cousin, runne, scudde, fly—to Sir Bare Notwithstanding: he lyes but three miles off; he's in my debt: bid him release me, and Ile release him.
Griff.
Stay Sir. He's in my debt too: I ha' solicited for Sir Bare these seuen yeeres, and haue nothing but bare thankes.
Brom.
Nay then, take me with you. Thus—
Enter Beniamin, Robin, Thirsty; Thirsty climbing vp into a tree. Rob. into a bush.
Ben.
Ha you your lesson perfect?
Thirst.
Yes, yes: as a Mid-wife her errand to a Citizens wife. There's not an Owle in an Iuy-bush, nor a Parrat at a Drugsters dore, has whoo whoop, or walke Knaue, more perfit.
Ben.
[Page]Robin, do't cunningly. My Dad shall be
Only to me beholding for his life.
By that aduantage I recall his loue.
Grip.
Cousin, fly euery step. Remember, like a Iury-man, you goe vpon life and death.
Exit Nice.
Brom.
Happinesse grant, that no Hare crosse him ith' way: his superstitious legges will retire, though wee hang for't. Come, shall we keep the rule of the place, and drinke drunke now?
Exeunt.
Enter Nice.
Ben.
Now kindred, whither trot you so fast?
Nic.
Oh Cousin, about a deede of charitie; to saue your father, and two or three knaues more from hanging. I am going to Sir Bare Notwithstanding; to saue them out of prison: they haue sau'd him often.
Ben.
Sir Bare Notwithstanding, he's a great man, Cousin.
Nic.
Hee had three Lordships fell to him at a clappe; the worst worth 400. a yeere.
Ben.
Yet hee's bare notwithstanding.
Nic.
Hee has sold his Caroch with foure Flanders mares, because he would retire himselfe and liue ith' Country.
Ben.
Yet he's Bare Notwithstanding. But to himselfe Cousin, farewell.
Exit Ben.
Nic.
To him, quoth he? I will to him, were the diuell in my way.
Thirst.
Porke, porke.
Nic.
The diuell porke you. What dismall bird crokes disaster to my iourney!
Thir.
Porke.
Nic.
Nay, if the destinies haue set the Rauen against mee, Ile rerurne sure—yet let me see. So my Vncle may bee hang'd, Ile on, come what will.
Thir.
Porke.
Nic.
O this blacke bird tolles like a passing-bell,
My owne sad mischiefe and my Vncles knell.
Yet why am I so timorous; when charitie
Bids me go on, shall a Rauen hinder me?
Ile keep aloose and passe—oh a spirit, a spirit.
Rob. flashes powder.
[Page] The Widdowes Ghost.
Bromley, Lawyer, Vncle, hang.
Take all your fortunes, I'le no further gang.
It's an vnhallow'd place, a dismall day.
Betide what will, Il'e backe againe some way.
Exit.
Rob.
Come downe, Rauen.
Thirst.
Come out, Spirit.
Rob.
Blind, credulous foole! He that shall trust at need
Such nice and tottring cockscombes, shall thus speed.
Should his sicke father send him for some drugges,
Hee would turne backe at such imagin'd bugges.
Enter Beniamin, Sager, VVife, Anne.
Ben.
Come, mother, friend, and wife; take these back places,
Where you may heare vnseene: that when time serues,
I may produce you. Works and houres are spent
Then well, when we doe good, or ill preuent.
Wif.
I cannot iudge, what is this dayes successe.
All-ruling powers the doubtfull sequele blesse.
Enter Curfew with other assistants, Ʋaster in a Priests habit, Ʋalentine like a Physician, the Iaylor with Gripe, Bromley, Griffin, &c.
Curf.
My Lord, whose place I personate, being sicke,
Hath thus design'd mee, both to heare and censure
The criminall causes, which offend the peace
Of our dread Soueraigne, and his subiects weale.
Whiles we launce Vlcers, we the body heale.
The charge I giue in short, you of the Iury,
Looke to your Oath and conscience: let not fauour
Shut vp your eyes, nor malice open them
Too wide. You vnderstand, our lawes are good.
Tis pitie that they should be writ in blood.
But since conniuence at vnlawfull deeds
Giues but encouragement, and wee cannot strike
With sword of Iustice the deseruing faults,
Except you giue the persons to our hands:
[Page] All on your vigilant information stands.
Proceede to the Inditements.
Grip.
We are all cast away. Sir Bare is not come.
Enter Abbot with guide.
Ab.
Pull downe that counterfeit, proud, arrogant, puffe:
Could your intrusion not content it selfe
T'vsurpe my office, but you must abuse
The Kings deputed Iudge?
All.
Downe with him, downe with him.
Abb.
Iaylor, receiue him to your custodie,
Till our iust censure giue him punishment.
Foxe, I shall hunt you out.
Curf.
Do't with a poxe.
The goose sometimes must sit and iudge the Fox.
Abb.
Proceed; the day hastens.
Clark.
Marian Sorrow widow, yeeld thy body, and saue thy baile.
Ben.
Sir, shee is dead: her felonie is answer'd Before a higher Court.
Clarke.
That is the woman that Gripe is suspected to haue poyson'd. Godfrey Gripe stand to the Barre. You are indited for the murther of Marian Sorrow widdow: guilty or not?
Grip.
Not guilty, my Lord: let all the world testifie of my honest carriage. I haue liued all my dayes in good name and fame.
Abb.
Stand not vpon your credit and good deeds.
Your haruest would be small, if like your seeds.
If all that know thee stood about this place,
And had free liberty to speake their thoughts,
Round ecchoing curses would amaze thy soule,
And with hells damned crue thy name enroule.
But when the Widdow, Orphane call for plagues
On thy blacke life, thou hy'st vnto thy bagges;
[Page] There dost applaud and hugge thy wretched selfe:
As solace 'gainst all woes lay in thy pelfe.
Thou hast no god but gold: that Deitie
Thou shouldst adore, and would still succour thee,
Is quite reiected. And that Idol, money,
Which beares away thy confidence and heart,
When thou art plagued, aggrauates thy smart.
Thou art the Deuils Executioner.
His rankest plague on earth's an Vsurer.
Spirits in hell whip soules: extorting slaues
Torment poore bodies so before their graues.
Thou art a gulfe, poore mens estates to drinke.
A quagmire; none passe ore thee, but they sinke.
Vnlesse Strepsiades-like, men could deuise
To plucke the Moone by Sorcerie from the skies;
Thy moneth and gaine will come. Like some at sea,
(Yet dangerlesse of shipwracke more then they)
Thou slumbrest in a base lethargicke swoone.
Let others toyle, thy iournye's done as soone.
Ben.
Will not this moue him?
Abb.
Nature in all inferiour things hath set
A pitch or terme, when they no more shall get
Increase and off-spring. Vnrepayred houses
Fall to decay: old Cattell cease to breed.
And sappelesse trees deny more fruite or seed.
The earth would hart-lesse and infertile be,
If it should neuer haue a Iubile.
Only the Vsurers money genders still:
The longer, lustier: Age this doth not kill.
He liues to see his moneys moneys money,
Euen to a hundred generations reach.
He, whiles his interest money in do's troule,
Cares not to lose the principall, his Soule.
He like a cleanly Alchymist can soke
And draw much siluer, yet waste none in smoke.
Thou lendst, like water powr'd on sea-cole fire,
Or on a lode of Lime a showre of rayne.
[Page] It seemes to coole heate, but doth more enflame.
Ben.
His conscience has deafe eares.
Abb.
When all is done,
And thou hast swel'd thy heapes; to say no more,
Thy coffer's onely rich, and thou art poore.
This common plague is on all Vsurers showne:
Th'haue much, yet are not masters of their owne.
One day thy stintlesse mind shall haue enough;
When the diuided peeces of thy selfe
Shall in their seuerall doomed mansions dwell:
Enough of mould in graue, of fire in hell.
But I spend breath in vaine; come, let's proceed.
Gripe.
No further. You haue made my conscience bleed.
I heere confesse my selfe guilty of all,
Euen of this murder too.
Abbot.
Let mercie fall on thy distressed soule. Now to the rest.
Clark.
Nicholas Bromley, you are indited for the murther of William Sager, &c. Guilty or not?
Brom.
Not guilty? Who testifies against me!
Ab.
In case of Murder should we neuer iudge
By circumstanciall likelihoods and presumptions,
No life could be secure.
Enter Nice.
Nic.
Puffe! shift for your selues; Sir Bare Notwithstanding dares not be seene.
Brom.
O, I am lost.
My Lord, I'm guilty: so is Griffin too:
He did conceale the fact, that I did doe,
We shar'd the Lands together.
Abbot.
Powerfull truth!
Murder will out, though by the Actors mouth.
Gripe.
O Beniamin, I haue vndone
My life, my state, my credite, and my Sonne.
[Page] But I'm resolu'd to dye, so Monarchs must:
Rich men as well as poore, must turne to dust.
Ben.
Me thinkes I could preuent all this.
Gripe.
Alas, thou lov'st me; but tis not possible.
Ben.
Sir, I haue here a booke already drawne,
Seale to it freely, and Ile saue your life.
You shall confirme me your vndoubted heire,
And then surrender Vasters morgag'd lands.
Grip.
Tis done.
seales.
Ben.
My Lord and all this bench be witnesse to it.
Then thus I quit you, widdow, appeare in Court.
In earnest, see, she liues, that dy'd in sport.
Wife.
Sir, thanke your Drugster, else I had dy'd by you.
And you for me receiu'd a murderers due.
Grip.
So, I am cousen'd finely, finely—
Val.
My Lord, I challenge this widdow for cheating me of 300. pounds. This is one of her old trickes.
Abb.
How's this?
Val.
My Lord, my selfe and two intrusted friends
Came hither to pay money on a bond,
Whiles the receiuer did deferre his comming;
We gaue this coozening woman, being Hostice,
The whole summe to lay vp: and straightly charg'd her,
Not to deliuer't, but to vs all together.
She sayes one of vs three demanded it
Of her in haste, and ranne away: and thus
We lost our money, and the bond lies forfeit.
Ben.
Your Lordships leaue. Tis true, she not denies,
But they so charg'd her, and she was so coozend.
Therefore she yeelds to paiment. Let 'hem come
All three together, they shall haue the money.
Grif.
Vpon my faith, a prettie quillet.
Abb.
Wittie and iust. How say you? heere produce
The other two, your satisfaction's ready.
Ben.
The widdow's cleard: but master Valentine—
Nay, man, come neerer, you'd haue present pay.
Val.
No, Sir, let it euen goe.
Ben.
So must not you.
[Page] You gaue 300. pound to her: tis true.
Which like a subtle Quacksaluer, you robd
My father of; Sprites, Fairies—
Val.
I am cob'd.
Grip.
It's true, my lord: this is one of the Fairies. Iustice, Iustice.
Val.
Well, if there be no remedie, I hope,
I shall not dance alone vpon the rope.
My lord, here's the other Fairie.
Abb.
O Sir, haue I found you?
Pull off that borrowd habite from his backe.
O that such foule deeds should be hid in blacke.
Gripe.
My Lord, this Widow's accessary too:
She plotted, she receiu'd. Iustice, iustice.
Ab.
But late thy song was mercy, now all iustice?
Here's all the goodnes of an Vsurer.
She sau'd his life, he would now hang her.
Gripe.
She has robb'd me, vndone me.
Val.
It is most true, my lord, she plotted all.
Curf.
(Your villanie, Ostice, we shall now retort.
You cheated vs, and we will hang you for't.
Ben.
How doe these mischiefes grow, like Hidra's heads, faster by cutting off!
Vast.
Prodigious villaines! will they thus cast away an innocent woman?
Yet I most vile of all, that thus stand by,
And for my fault behold my poore wife dye.
Ben.
My lord, vpon my soule this woman's cleare:
And only malice thus accuseth her.
Ab.
Speake, woman, art thou guilty?
Wife.
My lord, I begge a word with my Confessor,
Then I shall answere. Sir, a word in priuate.
To Vaster.
Now Vaster, ope thy vnbeleeuing eyes:
Lo, thy deuoted wife for thy sinne dyes.
Yeeld but this kindnesse to my latest breath,
Thou hate'st me liuing, loue me yet in death.
Farewell—My lord, I will not say, I'm guilty;
Do as your euidence and wisedome leades you.
Ab.
This knot is hard to vndo.
Vast.
My lord, Ile help you.
[Page] Loe,
I am that third Fairy, that pronounce
This woman cleare, and those two periur'd knaues.
We three are guilty: let your sentence come.
I haue deseru'd, will not despaire my doome.
Wife.
My lord, he sayes not true: hee's innocent: I guilty.
Ab.
Speake on your soules, which of these tongues speak truth.
Val.
Curf. My lord, the woman's cleare.
Ab.
Pernicious Villaines, hopelesse to be good:
That thus haue stroue to spill the guiltlesse bloud.
Widow, y' are quitted. Sir, waite you your doome.
Vast.
With patience. Beniamin Gripe, I here accuse you for murdering Richard Vaster.
Ab.
How?
Vast.
My lord, I found that Vaster dying, bury'd him,
Saw him receiuing death by this mans sword.
Theft's a great sin, but murder most abhorr'd.
Ab.
Speake; is this possible?
Ben.
We met in single combate in the field:
It seemes his life vnto my sword did yeeld.
Ann.
Ay me, my father slaine?
Rob.
And by his friend?
Fate, whither will thy proiects tend!
Ann.
My husbands hand my fathers life vndoes:
For this fact he must dye: thus both I lose.
Ben.
Forgiue me all, by me you all haue lost,
The wife a Husband, children a deare Parent:
Thus I returne you all some recompence.
Nan thou shalt lose a husband.
An.
Heauens defend.
Ben.
Mother, you lose a son, brother a friend.
Wife.
Can nature so degenerate, that a man should liue, stand by, and see another suffer for murdering him?
Vast.
Once againe off disguise.
My lord, thus I preuent this fear'd disaster
My second case pull'd off, I am plaine Vaster.
Rob.
My father?
Wife.
My deare husband.
Vast.
Most, most deare friend.
My loue to you doth beyond bounds extend.
[Page] My Lord, first to this honourable Bench,
I'here present the Kings most gtacious pardon
For vs three here: heauen no lesse pardon vs.
Now to my wife: see wench, I am new borne;
Renc'd from the plague of a suspected horne.
Blacke Iaundeys of the minde, thou fained spirit,
That haunts mens quiet thoughts with troubling shades.
Pernicious Ielousie, that like needlesse Physicke
Diuertest health to voluntary sicknesse,
I brush thee off like dust. See, I am now
New marry'd to my loue and to my life.
Neuer could man boast a more constant wife.
Deare Beniamin, now Sonne, what I haue left
Of all my shipwrack'd fortbnes, shall be thine.
Ben.
Resume your former state, my father yeelds it.
Vast.
Thankes to your honestie, not his; yet thus,
Some meanes of satisfaction I haue found;
Ile pay him backe his lost three hundred pound:
The fairie money, which was iust the price
Of my redeemed lands.
Ben.
Now master Bromley,
That vniuersall mercie to our guilt,
May be affoorded, and no blood be spilt:
Surrender vp your lease for the three liues
To Sagers wife and children, and Ile quit you.
Brom.
I do most freely yeeld it.
Sag.
Sager liues,
And hartie thankes for your forc'd kindnesse giues.
Abb.
Happy delusions! in such waies of ill,
I wish men may be thus mistaken still.
Nic.
Rauens, and Sprites, and Fairies, and Hares and diuels-Thus haue I lost my wench, lost my money, lost my watch, lost my wits. I doe here renounce the faith of all Almanackes, Physiogmoners, Palmists, Fortune-tellers. Erra Pater was an Asse, and so are Prognosticators, his children, from generation to generation.
Grip.
I haue drunke powerfull physicke, and the Dropsie
[Page] Of my (till now) nere quenched auarice,
Dries vp like dew at the ascending Sunne.
Vaster, take back your lands; and for the money,
Giue it my sonne in portion with your daughter.
Hencefoorth Ile study to requite the wrongs,
Which I haue done poore men by vsurie,
And vomit vp th'extortions, that doe lie
As vndigested crudities on my conscience.
My future life shall bee in mercie spent.
I'm Gripe no more; that name I doe repent.
Abb.
All Chronicles be fill'd with this; and let it
Beas a wonder to all eares imparted.
England had once an Vsurer conuerted.