The rivall friends A comœdie, as it was acted before the King and Queens Maiesties, when out of their princely favour they were pleased to visite their Vniversitie of Cambridge, upon the 19. day of March. 1631. Cryed downe by boyes, faction, envie, and confident ignorance, approv'd by the judicious, and now exposed to the publique censure, by the author, Pet. Hausted Mr. in Artes of Queenes Colledge.

Author: Hausted, Peter, d. 1645.1632

THE RIVALL FRIENDS.

A Comoedie, As it was Acted before the King and Queens Maiesties, when out of their princely favour they were pleased to visite their Vniversitie of Cambridge, upon the 19. day of March. 1631.

Cryed downe by Boyes, Faction, Envie, and confident Ignorance, approv'd by the judicious, and now exposed to the publique censure, by

The Authour, PET. HAVSTED M^r. in Artes of Queenes Colledge.

Non tanti est ut placeam insanire.

LONDON, Printed by Aug. Matthewes for Humphrey Robinson, at the signe of the three Pidgeons in Pauls Church-yard. 1632.

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Dramatis Personae.

Sacriledge Hooke, a Simoniacall Patrone.
Pandora, his faire Daughter.
Mistris Vrsely, his supposed Daughter, deformed and foolish.
Iacke Loueall, a Court Page, Nephew to M^r. Hooke.
Constantina, Iack Loueall's sister.
Lucius. the two Friends, and Rivalls in Pandora's loue.
Neander, or Cleopes the two Friends, and Rivalls in Pandora's loue.
Luscinio, Lucius his Boy.
Bully Liuely, an old merry fellow, that liues in the impropriate Parsonage.
Terpander, an old Gentleman.
Anteros, his sonne, an humerous mad fellow, that could not endure women.
Laurentio, an ancient Citizen.
Endymion, his sonne, and Page to Lucius.
Isabella, Laurentio's Daughter, in loue with Lucius.
Stipes, Hooke's Sheepheard.
Placenta, his Wife, a Midwife.
Merda, their Daughter.
Nodle Emptie, an Innes of the Court man.
William Wiseacres, a quondam Atturneys Clarke.
M^r. Mungrell, an elder brother.
Hammershin, a Batchelour of Arts.
Zealous Knowlittle, a Box-maker, — Suiters to Mistris Vrsely for the Parsonage sake.
Tempest All-mouth, a decaied Cloth-worker Suiters to Mistris Vrsely for the Parsonage sake.
Arthur Armestrōg 2. yong schollers, robustious footbal-players. Suiters to Mistris Vrsely for the Parsonage sake.
Stutchell Legg— 2. yong schollers, robustious footbal-players. Suiters to Mistris Vrsely for the Parsonage sake.
Ganimed Fillpot, a pretender to a Scholler, who had once bin a Gentlemans Butler. Suiters to Mistris Vrsely for the Parsonage sake.
Hugo Obligation, a precise Scrivener.— Suiters to Mistris Vrsely for the Parsonage sake.
Two Men, two Maydes of Liuelyes.
A Bedlam.
Fidlers.

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To the right Honourable, right Reue­rend, right Worshipfull, or whatsoever he be or shall bee whom I hereafter may call Patron.IF thou do'st deale with the crackt Chambermaid,
Or in stale Kinswomen of thine own do'st trade,
With which additions thou do'st set to sale
Thy Gelded Parsonages, or do'st prevaile
With thy despayring Chaplaine to divide
That which should be entire, for which beside
Perhaps hee payes thee too, know that from thee
(Beest thou Squire, Knight, or Lord, or a degree
Aboue all these) nor I, nor yet my booke
Does craue protection, or a gentle Looke:
But if there be a man, (such men bee rare!)
That 'midst so many sacrilegious, dare
Be good and honest, though he be alone,
With such a zeale, such a devotion,
As th'old Athenians were wont to pay
Vnto their vnknowne God, I here doe lay
My selfe and booke before him, and confesse
That such a Vertue can deserue no lesse.
Reade it (faire Sir) and when thou shalt behold
The Vlcers of the time by my too bold
Hand brought to light, and lanch'd, and then shalt see
Vice to his face branded and told that's hee,
Incircled safe in thine owne goodnesse sit,
[Page]Vntouch'd by any line, and laugh at it.
'Twas made to please, and had the vicious Age
Beene good enough, it had not left the Stage
Without it's due Applause: But since the times
Now bring forth men enamour'd on their crimes,
And those the greater number, 'twere difeafe
To thinke that any thing that bites should please.
Had it beene borne a toothlesse thing, though meane,
It might haue past, nay might haue praysed beene:
But being a Satyre— no. Such straines of Witt
Are lik'd the worse, the better they are writ.
Who euer knew one deepe in loue, commend
A Song though ne're so good, so aptly pend,
Set to the choycest note Musick affords,
Sung by as choyce a Voice, if that the words
Contained nothing else but a disgrace
Vnto his Mistris and her borrowed face?
O happy Age! ô wee are fallen now
Vpon braue times, when my Lords wrinckled brow
(Who perhaps labour'd in some crabbed Looke
How to get farther into'th silk-mans booke,
Not minding what was done, or said) must stand
A Coppy, and his Anticke front command
The censure of the rest, to smile or frowne,
Iust as his squeesed face cryes vp or downe:
When such as can judge right, and know the Lawes
Of Comaedy, dare not approue, because
My Ladies Woman did forget to bring
Her Sp— and therefore swor't a tedicus thing.
But (knowing Sir) rancke not your selfe with these
That judge not as things are, but as they please.
Peter Hausted.

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THE PRAEFACE TO THE READER.

INgenuous and vnderstanding Reader, for if thou beest not s, I neither regard thee, nor thy censure. In this age of [...]utsides, wherein to be modest, is to be Ignorant, and to be impudent is call'd Learning wherein to please our walking Things in silke, a man must write dust and cobweb; amongst the rest, though with much difficultie and opposition, yet at the length I haue obtained leaue for this poore neglected Piece of mine to salute the Light, & in spight of all blackmouth'd Calumny (who ha's endeavor'd to crush it into nothing) presented it to the open view. I am not ignorant what base aspersions, & unchristianlike slanders (like a generall infection) haue spread themselues throughout the Kingdome, nor can I hope that the publishing of it can stop all those wide mouthes which are opened against it; yet I must not despaire of so much justice from the Candide, (for their owne honestie is interested in the Action) as (when they shall behold the innocence of it) to confesse, that I suffer most unjustly in these reports. How it was accepted of their Majesties, whom it was intended to please, we know, and had gracious signes: how the rest of the Court were affected, wee know too; Such as were faire and intelligent will yet giue it sufficient Testimonie: As for those which came with starch'd faces and resolutions to dislike whatsoever they saw or heard, (all due reverence being given to the faire fields they weare upon their backes) they must perforce giue mee leaue to be of that haeresie, and thinke that there is something else required to the composition of a Iudgement, then a good Suite of taken-up Clothes, a Countenance set in a frame, and some three shakes of the emptie Noddle. The difficulties, and disadvantages wee went upon were many, and knowne, neither did we faile in the successe we hop'd for; for indeed wee expected no other thing then to be cried downe by many-mouth'd Detraction. Alas, wee are all but men, and may erre; and our offence was the same that was imputed to Cicero, by a great Romane Ladie, who told him that it was Saucinesse in him amongst so many Patricians of eminent blood, to dare to be Vertuous or Eloquent. I doe confesse we did not goe such quaint wayes as we might haue done; we had none of those Sea-artes, knew not how, or else scorn'd to plant our Ca [...]vas so advantagiously to catch the wayward [Page] breath of the Spectatours; but freely & ingenuously labourd rather to merit then rauish an Applause from the Theatre. Wee neuer yet were so poorely ambitious (nor euer will) to court the Claps of young Ones, who are more delighted to see an Ape play his forced trickes, then to behold the truest and most naturall Action in the world. Let such as despaire of the approbation of Men, cry, Let in the Boyes, wee shall haue no noyse else. I envie not the applause comes from such hands or tongues. As for the Objections made by Envie and Ignorance, such as I haue heard, I will answere, and then dare all their Snakes to hisse out more. And first, the Lownesse of many of the Persons did displease some; I conversed too much with Sheepheards they say.

It is the misery of Poetry aboue other sciences, & in Poetry of the Dramme especially, that it lies open to be profan'd by every adulterate judgement. The Musician dares onely judge of Musicke, the Philosopher in naturall causes, the Mathematician of those Arts: But what fly-blowne piece of Man is there, whose best of vertues is to cry God dam him, whose top of knowledge the Alphabeticall and Greeke healths but thinks himselfe a Doctor of the Chaire in what belongs to the Scene? Let them looke into Plautus, and they shall find the chiefest person in his Persa to be a Servant; and it is accounted one of the greatest excellencies in Sydney, that he was able so much to humble his phant'sy, as truly and naturally to set forth the clownery of Dametas, the indigested and unlickt words and phrases of his wife and daughter. But these squirt-wits, (who are able onely to bring forth a paper of verses in a yeare, it may be of a haire that fell from their Mrs. Peruke, and think this sufficient to stile them Laureat) in the Description of a shipwracke (peradventure) would take great delight to see a faire Cypresse tree pictured. All that I will say to them is this, if their mouthes be out of tast, I am not bound to answer for it. But why this before their Majesties? say they. And I say, why not this before their Majesties, rather then higher things? (although they may perceiue that the straine is not continued.) The Court is not acquainted with such groueling humours; Therfore (my obstinate Heretike) the better. To haue showen them nothing but what they see daily, had bin but course entertainment, and if that was my errour, that the two Changelings spoke no strong lines, but plaid at Chackstones, when it may be some of our butterfly-judgements expected a set at Maw or Primivista from them, let it lye upon my Conscience.

Next, whereas my discretion was call'd in question for making one to raile so bitterly upon Women before the Ladies, whō we should haue labour'd to please rather. I answer, that the Ladies (as some report) should take offence at Anteros his part, will not yet enter me; for although I know many of that sex weak enough, yet me thinks it cannot be that such as they, who are taken out of the Ore, refin'd and wrought up unto such a degree of purity by the Court, that we may not be afraid to say, that they are more then halfe men (that is) come not far short of us in that which gives us our denomination, Reason; it cannot be (I say) that these should so much discredit the opinion which the world has of their apprehensions and judgements, as to be offended to see a Woman-hater personated: for then, how shall we hereafter dare to bring upon the Stage a Bawd, an Vsurer, an Intemperate man, a Traytour, or one that [Page] commits Idolatry to his Mistris, (which is as great a sinne as most of these) if onely to personate be to approue? No, when we act a vice, it is not because we allow of it, but rather labour to exti [...]pe it by shewing the odiousnesse of it to the world. As for that which they object against bringing in of the foure Guls in the third Act, as impertinent to the Plot; I answer, that it was a most naturall passage, & although it conduc'd nothing to the maine hinge on which the chiefe carriage of the Comoedie turn'd, (no more then Liuely's drinking of Sack, the Donation of the Living, with the bestowing of the crooked changeling, Anteros turning sheepheard, or Stypes being tyed to the tree) yet if they please to turne to the latter end of the fift Act, they shall find that they were not all foysted in as meere strangers. Let them shew me (if they can) a rule in Poetry, that binds us so strictly not to meddle with any persons but what appertaine primarily to the plot. If they can (which I cannot beleeue) I will shew them again that Rule broken by most of the prime Writers in this kind, both of Ages past and present, I meane not only in our owne Mother tongue, wherin the Dramme but lately is arriv'd at any perfection, but in Latine, Italian, and others. But this is the bolt of some shallow & narrow capacitie, who peradventure was puzled with the multitude of names, and would haue been better contented with three Actors and a halfe, and some seven or eight papers of verses tyed together with Coblers ends. As for the false and abominable imputations laid upon it by my Tribe with the short haire and long eares, my formall outsides, that looke demure, and snuffle; I doe not much regard them, because it is their Trade; nor are they onely at open defiance with this, but with all kind of learning. Yet I cannot see how any Good man, should be displeased, or thinke Religion any whit wronged, to see those sores and Biles of the Church brought to open view, (the onely way to cure them) to see those (cursed Simoniacall patrons) rowsed from out their dennes, to see such Mock-sch [...]llers, nay Mock-christians expos'd to publique laughter.— A Scrivener, a Box-maker, a Cloth-worker, a Fuller, and such mechanicall sordide people, must with unwash'd hands now adayes dare to offer at Gods Altar, and yet these men must not be touch'd, but Religion (forsooth) suffers in it.— Reade, and blush at thy credulitie. — Reader, not to tire thee with a Preface, thou hast it verbatim, and punctually as it was acted. I confesse, I would willingly haue altred some things which upon more mature deliberation I haue found to be subject to mis-constructions, but that I knew the malice of some would upon that take advantage, to make the world beleeue, that that which hath, or shall be spoken against it, is true.— Reade it with Candour and Discretion, and then call me

Your Friend, PET. HAVSTED.

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Amicissimo suo PETRO HAVSTED invitatio ut Comoediam suam Prelo committat.QVid scrinij tenebris cerebri damnas opes,
Gazasque opulentioris ingenij invides
Luet? caloris enthet Genio s [...]tis
Inest tuo quod mille vatum pectora
Ditet, animosque liberet inopia: jacet
Supita virtus? evigilet. Calumnia
Lauro ruinam struxit, ut ubique colubrae
Convitijs epulentur. En! hóc effluit
Martyrio Castalidum cruor, rivuli-
Que sanguinis litantur. Exiti [...]m hilaris
Spectas? nimium crudelis, eripe (dum licet)
Flammis: oculos vei si beat spectaculum
Vt opprimi Drams videas, preli ferat
Tormenta; cruciatus, doloresque petat
Omnes elegans ars quos habet, poematis
Manebit illaesum decus, ne [...] criminis
Fatebitur labem ullius: in lucem hilaris
Erumpe, laetusque intuere diem: joro
Spectante, Camaenae Carolus plausum tuae
Indulsit, invidi [...] manibus torpe [...]tibus
Vulgi: in memoriam hoc revoca, & post haec tibi
Crimen erit venis tuts
Vnquam re [...]egare superbia [...].
Quod si prolexitas fuit
Error, benigna Caesaris divinitas
Ignoscat; avara tenaxque nimis Musa metuit
Haberi epuias datura Regis auribus:
Amplamque dotem expendere vatis studuit
Luxurians ingenium: nil Tyria
Vellera, purpuramque moror: subsellium
Stipet corona papillionum, & citiùs
Sitirem ab istis laudem; inanis splendor hic,
Et inscitia superbiens ostro, dolor
Ingens theatri est & molestia. Prodigus
Autem nimis sum fellis, est mihi porti [...]
Minuta tantum, nec volo monopolium
Bilis meae, orbi dividam, fixum animo
Sedet generosè impendere; sed ecce manum
Destituit charta, & huc usque ut solveret
Obsequium penna officiosa, jam mihi
Elapsa fugit. Vatis hoc furtum est pij.
Agnoscite candorem: mori
Hostes pro [...]ibet; stupidita [...]
Nec haec iners vocabitur
Sed inclyta patientia.
Ed. Kemp.

[Page]
To the Authour.WOuld'st thou haue ta'ne my counsell (dearest friend)
Some humble Dedication thou hadst penn'd
To foule Detraction, swearing thou doest owe
Thy worke to her; because that shee doth show
By strength of Argument thy Labours bee
Most white, and from all base aspersions free.
For Envy's Vertues parasite, and feeds
Vpon her trencher, then this worke must needs
Bee good, which doth at its sole charge maintaine
Envie so well that shee doth burst againe,
And split her strutting gorge, she goes before
Laughter in fatnesse, and commends thee more.

To the same vpon the Arraignement of his Comoedie.THe Court once set, straightwayes a Iurie went
Vpon thy Comoedie, was fully bent
To finde it guiltie, though the King did sit
As Iudge himselfe that day, and cleared it.
If so, then let the foule-mouth'd World condemne
Thy Innocent Piece, shew that thou canst contemne
And slight the false Inditements which they bring
To cast it, since tis quitted by the King,
And all the Comicke Lawes; which not transgrest,
Why should'st thou be condemn'd, lesse to be prest?
That th' benefit o'th Booke, which wont to saue
From suffering, thou suffering thus may'st haue.
I. R.

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The Introduction.

Being a Dialogue betwixt Venus, Thetis, and Phoebus, sung by two Trebles, and a Base. Venus (being Phosphorus as well as Vesper) appearing at a window aboue as risen, calling to Sol, who lay in Thetis lap at the East side of the stage, canoped with an azure curtaine: at the first word that Venus sung, the curtaine was drawne, and they discovered.

Venus.

DRowsie Phoebus come away,

And let out the long'd for day,

Leaue thy Thetis silver breast,

And ope the casements of the East.

Tis Venus calls, away, away,

The waking mortals long for day.

Thetis.

And let them long, tis just and right

To shut them in eternall night,

Whose deeds deserue no day; lye still,

Arise not yet, lye still my Sun,

My night begins when thou art gone.

Venus.

He wooe thee with a kisse to come away.

Thet.

And I with fourtie for to stay.

Venus.

I'le giue to thee the faire Adonis speare

So thou wilt rise:

Thet.

And I to keepe thee here

Will giue a wreath of pearle as faire

As ever Sea-Nymph yet did weare.

Tis Thetis wooes thee stay, O stay, O stay.

Venus.

Tis Venus wooes thee rise, O come away.

Phoebus.

To which of these shall I mine eare encline?

Venus.

Vnto the vpper world repayre.

Thet.

O no, I'le binde him in my flowing haire.

Phoebus.

But see fond Mortalls how they gaze

On that same pettie blaze?

Thetis adieu, I am no longer thine,

I must away, For if I stay,

My Deity's quite undone,

They will forget t' adore the rising Sun.

Heere Phoebus arises from Thetis lap, and speakes.

But what new spectacle of wonder's this?

And haue I lost my wonted Majestie

Where with I use to strike a generall blindnesse

Through all the Starres? unto what height of pride

[Page]Are they aspir'd, that thus with open eyes

They dare out-face mee? Call out a powerfull raye

And make those saucie sparkes confesse that all

Their lustre is a debt they owe to me.

Venus sings.

Gently, gently, God of light,

Profane not powers that are knowne

To bee greater then thine owne:

Here is not a fire doth shine

That is beholding unto thine,

They are of themselues divine.

Phoebus speaks.

And blesse them all the Gods. But how come I

To be so blinde to day? so dull? so heavy?

I know them now; Hayle fayrest Albions King,

Liue still the envie of the world; and thou

Resplendent Goddesse, to view whose glorious face

I haue oft times in my swift course stood still;

Be all propitious to thy wish'd delights.

And since ye haue vouchsaf'd your gracious presence

Here at the Muses Groue, command their Patron,

Who here stands prest to serue yee.

Venus sings.

Will hee obey?

Phoeb. speaks.

Or else let Daphne frowne,

Or Phaeton resume my Chariot.

Venus sings.

Then in their names I doe command thee heere

Lord of the yeere,

To entertaine

This goodly Traine,

Call backe that day of mine

The sprightly Valentine.

Phoeb. speaks.

Command me kill a Python, or recall

The Lion or the Crabb: thou art too modest

In thy requests; tis done, and for to add

A greater honour to this day, behold

I will recall those few spent minutes too

Which haue runn out since I appear'd, I'le back,

And fetch new rayes that amorous Valentine,

This morning may brighter then euer shine.

At Phoebus his going in, the Chorus sing these two last lines.

[Page] After the Dialogue, enter a Boy.

Ha ha he, here be fine feats. (I hope we shall haue a ballad made o'nt before night) ha ha he, the Sun must lay aside all his busines, & be at leasure (forsooth) to fetch back S^t Valentines day for thē, ha ha he. In faith Gentlemen I pity ye, y'ar like to haue a goodly Comoedy here, Plautus his Captiues translated, or some such thing I warrant ye: why your Poet cannot endure a woman; and there are likely to be sweet raptures where the Muse is not amorous and sanguine. But let me see, now I think o'nt, Ile go fetch him out to ye, & ye shall laugh at him most miserably, & the Ladies too; troth do, he deserues it. He has hired me this Valentines morning, (for so ye must suppose it) to lead him out hood-winkt with a black scarf, into the fields, because he would not see a woman. But Gods me! what haue I forgot? I should haue had mine eares stretch'd for it if I had miss'd it. Yee must suppose the Scene too to be here in England at a country village. Some low homely slight stuffe 'twill be, I doubt: pray heavens he does not heare me. And here's an other dainty absurdity too (which I care not much if I tell yee) concerning their cloathes, which as far transcend the condition of the persons, as the court does the country. But that they hope the Court will excuse, for had it not bin here, they had bin forc'd (they say) to keepe the true decorum. But to my charge whom I left at the doore, till I had discover'd whether the coast were cleare. Come sir, now you may venture, you haue a prospect as barren as an Eunuches chin.— O me! why hee's run away. I'le be whipt if he has not smelt out my plot of exposing him to your view. — But heere comes the Prologue, he perhaps brings some newes of him; I'le leaue yee to censure his legs and cringes.

Exit Boy.

Prologue. Vpon occasion of their Maiesties comming being deferr'd.

MOst sacred Majesties, if yee doe wonder,
To be saluted by an aged Prologue,
Know that upon these temples I doe wea [...]e
An Embleme of our Mothers fate, who since
Shee has in expectation of your presence
Numb [...]ed the tedious moments, is growne old:
For each expecting minute that has pass'd
Has seem'd an hower, and every hower a yeare.
But will yee see what power yee retaine? He pulls off his head of haire and beard.
Wee by your presence are made young againe.

[Page]

Actus primus, Scena prima.

Placenta, Constantina as a Boy, Isabella in Constantina's clothes.

Pla.

FOrtune as yet is kind, well done my boy,

Hold vp your head, a little higher, yet,

And can you weep?

Isa.

I can, & haue some cause,

O Lucius!

Pla.

And sigh?

Isab.

I would I could not.

Most wretched Isabella.

Pla.

Constantina.

She calls at the window

Isa.

When shal mine eies feed on that blessed sight?

Or when wilt thou with one kinde looke dissolue

This cloud which now obscures me? and makes me seeme

Another from my selfe?

Pla.

Shee stirres not yet

Why Constantina.

Isab.

O my Lucius!

Might I but once more see thee, I could goe

Vnto the graue me thinks with such a looke

As should make death enamour'd on me.

Pla.

Ha?

Not yet? O what a sleepy girle is this?

Isab.

But in this house I'ue learn'd Pandora liues,

Who now does reape my harvest: here I hope

I may enjoy at least a sight of him,

And that is all that ever I must hope for.

Constan. appears at the window

But I shall be observ'd.

Pla.

O now she comes.

Const.

Placenta.

Pla.

Not so lowd (take heed) for feare

The Dragon should be waking; haue you yet

Got on your masculine habit?

Con.

Long agoe.

Pla.

Descend then, if your mind be still the same,

Before the Sun rise to betray your flight.

Const.

But haue you drest the Boy in my apparell?

Pla.

Tis done, and not a creature but my selfe

And the dumbe night are guilty of it.

Const.

Well,

I come.

Pla.

Introth I doe confesse I wonder

What should induce this peevish girle to take

This strange disguised habit, and forsake

[Page]Her vncles house, but it is loue forsooth:

Well, be it what it will, I haue procur'd,

By her entreatie, and the gold she gaue mee,

A boy as neere her stature as I could,

Whom I haue cloathed in her owne apparell,

And vayled in her scarfe. Come on my boy.

You haue not yet forgot, I hope, th' instructions

I read to you within. Come, let me see

You vent a sigh now. Excellent: but be sure

You speake not very often.

Isab.

Doubt not that:

Th'are shallow griefs that make a noise.

Pla.

Well said.

But tell me you, sir boy, what wast that made

You leaue the London Players?

Isab.

Indeed forsooth

I was abused there; besides, that trade

Begins to fayle of late, most of your Gallants

Are growne so wise and frugall, that they chuse

Rather to spend their money on a whore

(Which they call necessarie) then on such toyes.

Pla.

Goe to, you are a wagg. See now she comes.

Enter Const.

But ô the Father! what pismire is this?

Ah, I shall swound to looke upon her leggs:

Surely one blast of wind will breake them quite.

Now out upon her! mine are mill-posts to them.

Const.

Placenta, you doe see how much I trust you,

That put mine honour thus into your hands.

Leade you this picture of mine into my chamber,

And there instruct him how he should behaue

Himselfe, that no suspition of my flight

Be nourisht by my Vncle, till I bee

Past his recalling. So farewell good midwife.

Pla.

How my left eye-brow beats? I do not like it,

It does presage no good. My Constantina,

Goe back againe I pray you, in good sooth

Tis very dangerous thus discompanied

To undertake a journey.

Const.

All in vaine:

I am resolv'd either to find my Cleopes,

Or else to sleepe with death clos'd in mine armes.

Exit Constan.

Pla.

If it must needs be so, why then farewell.

I cannot chuse but weepe: sweet Constantina —

Well, twas the goodest Gentlewoman—but sh 's gone—

[Page]Many a deare morsell has shee helpt me to—

But we must all depart—I doe remember

When shee was but a little one, shee ever

Was fond of mee —but I must be content.

Come on my boy, let not your face so much

Be seene— when I haue shewne her lodging to you,

And left you there— I cannot yet forbeare,

It will not from my heart— I'le goe and visite

The faire Pandora, that kinde Gentlewoman,

And see if that her closet can afford

Any good thing to hold the heart. Come boy.

Exeunt.

ACT. 1. SCEN. 2.Anteros solus.
Ant.
I knew there was a woman in the wind.
I smelt her. Stay. —but now she's gone—Ile forward.
Why I am not at leasure now to take
An ounce of Tobacco in a weeke, they doe
So haunt mee up and downe. And this forsooth
Is our Saint Valentine, wherein our lovers
Doe use to imitate Iack-dawes, and Rookes,
Doe bill and couple. But (my starre's be thanked)
I'me now deliver'd from those petulant females.
But stay, and let me recollect my selfe.
What part about me ist (I wonder) can
Be guiltie of their sinne of loving mee?
Introth me thinkes I am not very faire;
A pretty winter countenance I weare
After a cup: and I haue often seene
A better nose dwell better eyes betweene.
As for my legs (not for to flatter them)
Surely I thinke under a boot they might
Become the Court, so I refrain'd to play
At Goff— but oh the traytor's apprehended,
I haue him fast. Oh thou pernicious nose,
Rebellious member, haue I so often rays'd
Thy dull complexion with the spirits of sacke
Vnto that height that thou hast dar'd t' ourface
The Sun in Cancer, and haue I this reward?
But if I doe not humble thee againe,
[Page]Reduce thee to thy former state of palenesse
With rot-gut, and cuds-nigs—let me be married.
But whom haue we here?
Tis Lucius one of our loving fooles:
O ho? why then I must be tortured,
That's all that I can say, I must be tortured.

ACT. 1. SCEN. 3.

Anteros, Lucius, Endymion.

Luc.

Ah my Endymion, seest thou yond rising Sun?

End.

I doe, but what of that?

Luc.

Why nothing boy

But at his presence why doe those lesser-fires

Pluck in their shamefac'd heads? doest thou not marke

Dull heavie Page? I can but meditate

Vpon the wit of Nature, who by objects

Low and inanimate, as is that Sun—

Ant.

Now heavens be good unto me, this is call'd

Lovers philosophy.

Luc.

does reade unto us

A lecture of her higher mysteries.

What doest thou thinke is meant by that same Sun?

And those extinguisht tapers? —he alas

Poore aged wretch but coldly imitates

That which Pandora does unto the life.

Whilst she is absent thousands of petty beauties

Doe twinkle in the night, let her appeare,

And they all vanish.

Ant.

Ha braue, is not this daintie? for all this,

Surely the man would take't unkindly now

If I should goe and tell him he was mad.

Luc.

Endymion, lend me thine eyes a little;

Doest thou desire to see a Mapp, a Modell

Of all the world in briefe and in one word?

View this— why readst thou not? thy happy lipps

Should thirst me thinks to haue that blessed ayre

Divorce them. reade.

End.

Pandora.

Luc.

Ah Pandora.

Looke here's the Sun, this place does Iupiter

Possesse, here Venus, and there Phoebe; marke—

Here is the Earth, but in her bravery,

And smiling as when Sol does sleepe betwixt

The twining Gemini.

Ant.

Thou daring mortall:

[Page]But where in this your Idoll of the world

Is Styx, Cocytus, or the blessed place

Of the deare Furies? or the three chapt Dog?

Are they without the verges of the World?

Luc.

Fortune! how happy were I was this face

Of thine not counterfeite. Speake Endymion:

But art thou sure that my Neander drew

The faire Constantina for his Valentine?

Endy.

I neuer said it Sir.

Luc.

How neuer said it?

End.

Onely her name, so was Pandora yours.

Luc.

O too too true presage of both our fortunes.

But let it be. When I doe violate

That loue, that more then mortall bond, wherewith

My soule is ty'd vnto Neander, may

I fall vnpittied, may no gentle sigh

Be spent at my last obsequies, may I want

A man to wish me againe, would that preuaile.

Ant.

Without all question this is Magick— oh

How I doe feare a Metamorphosis.

Luc.

But I doe feele a pouerty of words

Begin to ceaze mee. Good Endimyon,

Where is my boy Luscinio? Call him in,

That hee may touch a string which may dissolue mee

Into a flood of teares—come on my boy,

Enter Lusc. with a Lute.

Oh teach that hollow pensiue Instrument

To giue a true relation of my woes

Whilst I lye here, and with my sighes keepe time.

Ant.

O how I sweate. 300000 feauers

Are now vpon me. O—

The Song.Haue pitty (Griefe) I can not pay
The tribute which I owe thee, teares;
Alas those Fountaines are growne dry,
And tis in vaine to hope supyly
From others eyes, for each man boares
Enough about him of his owne
To spend his stock of teares vpon:

Ant.

O O O. Will it be euer done?

[Page]

Wooe then the heauens (gentle Loue)
To melt a Cloud for my reliefe
Or wooe the Deepe or wooe the Graue,
Wooe what thou wilt so I may haue
Wherewith to pay my debt, for Griefe
Has vow'd, vnlesse I quickly pay
To take both life and loue away.

Ant.

Gods, and the World! you euerlasting Twanger—

Auoyd.

Lusc.

What meanes the Gentleman?

Ant.

Ile tell you.

The Gentleman does meane for to consult

With the entrals of your breeches, boy; the Gentleman

Does meane to whip you boy, vnlesse you straight

Auoyd the place with that seducing Fiddle.

And you his Squire his Pandar that procures

This bandy Cockatrice Musick for him. fly.

ACT. 1. SCE. 4.

Anteros. Lucius.

Ant.

How fares it with our Lucius?

Luc.

As with one

That is of all men the most miserable.

Ah my Pandora, when I record thy name,

(Thy name that's bounded with that sacred number

As shewing all Perfection bides in thee)

Mee thinkes the numerous Orbes dwell in mine eare,

After which sound all others seeme vnpleasing,

Harsh, voyd of Harmony—Pandora—oh

How sweete a life had the Camelion

Might hee but euer feede vpon such aires!

Ant.

Am I not yet transform'd? me thinkes I feele

My selfe becoming Wolfe— I am halfe Beare already.

Luc.

Liue happy still, and when thine aged head

Loaden with yeares Shall bee inueloped

Within this earth, may a perpetuall spring

Be on thy Graue.

Ant.

Shall I put forth my Paw,

And so command him silence?

Luc.

But when I

Forget to loue thee or thy memorie,

May my white name be stained with the blot

[Page]Of basenesse, and I dye without one teare

To wash it out.

Ant.

Forget to loue her? — oh

Not for a world. And er't be long we shall

Haue some decayed piece of Arras, that

Is brought to his last sute, and has no more

Lands for to sell or morgage for new plush

Will begge you for your faire reuenues Sir

—Death Sir I cannot flatter,

Let me not liue a minute if I can.

You looke not like your selfe in that same passion;

It is not man-like; ere I'de loose a sigh,

Or set my soule one scruple of a note

The lower for these scarcrowes in cleane linnen

These chippings of nature: I'de dam my selfe

To a thatcht Alchouse, and St. Kitts Tobacco,

And dabble there eternally:

Luc.

Ah Anteros, thou art too rough a Surgeon

To handle my wounds.

Ant.

Pandora, ah Pandora.

Does not this sound deliciously from a man?

Luc.

Doe not blaspheame good Anteros; shee is

The modell of the world.

Ant.

Why so am I,

And you, and euery man besides, wee all

Are little worlds.

Luc.

But my Pandora is

The abstract of them all; when she was borne,

The whole house of heauen did meete, and there decreede

Onely in her mortality should reach

Perfection.

Ant.

And for heauens cause why in her?

Are wee not all made of the selfe same clay?

And of the same ingredients? by the same workeman?

'Tis madnesse Lucius this, it is not loue.

Luc.

Sir I must leaue you.

Ant.

Nay but stay a while,

I haue not finisht yet. Besides all this,

If you doe loue her so, what hinders then

But you might marry her, since (as I heare)

The Girle is not compos'd of adamant

Or flint, but of a supple and kinde nature,

And loues you too?

Luc.

O my deare friend Neander,

Shall I doe this to thee? to such a friend?

Ant.

Oh I am vndone. Farewell.

[Page]

ACT. 1. SCE. 5.

Lucius in insidiis, Pandora. Neander▪

Luc.

But see Pandora.

Oh how amaz'd and suddaine is the flight

Of all the spirits of darkenesse, when the day

But showes her face!

Pan.

What if I take this way?

It may be I shall finde them in the grove,

Whither they oft resort— but stay, perchance

They may be in the arbour that doth looke

Into the forrest.

Luc.

Oh ye immortall Gods!

Why did ye suffer those vaine Lunaticke Poets

So much to antedate the workes of nature,

Who living many ages since did write

I know not what of many Nymphs and Graces,

Muses and Syrens? they are meere fables all;

With my Pandora they had all their birthes,

And when she dyes they'l perish with her.

Pan.

Ah?

How like vnto this Dazy was I once

Whilst I did live recluse! my innocent heart

Like to this little Globe of gold, enclos'd

VVithin the whitenesse of my thoughts, was safe

From all the violence that Loue, or shame

His childe could doe: but when his warmer beames

Displai'd that Ivory guard, and laide me open

Vnto the tyrannie of his assaults,

I was — but I will sighe out all the rest.

Ah Lucius.

Luc.

Oh happy name!

Pan.

Why Lucius?

Neander is as deare to me as hee.

Dost thou not blush to speakt * thou shame of woman?

But here he comes, I will addresse my selfe.

Enter Nean.

With all the winning Graces that I haue

To entertaine him.

Luc.

Tis my friend Neander.

Nean.

Faire Nymph, God saue you.

Pan.

Dearest loue Neander.

The welcom'st man aliue.

Nean.

Nay but sweete Lady

Forbeare th' encounter.

Pan.

Whether do'st thou turne

So cruelly from her that loues thee more

Then her owne soule? are you not well good Sir?

Nean.

You see I walke, looke fresh, and laugh. (ha, ha, he)

Symptomes of one that is not very sicke.

Pan.

[Page]

But am I thus despis'd?

Nean.

You're troublesome.

Ha, ha, he, tis pretty, very pretty

* How scuruily doth sorrow laugh? (ha, ha, he)

aside.

Most excellent, beyond compare (ha ha, he)

Why doe you follow mee?

I doe not fell complexion Lady, nor

Haue I the art to cure the tympany,

I haue no great deuotion to the tub

Nor the hot house, as yet, what are you rampant?

Pan.

But pray thee speake Neander, am I so

Deformed growne of late, for to deserue

All this neglect?

Nean.

What shall I answere? Madam,

If you haue spoke all that you meane to speake

And haue no greater businesse, I desire

I may craue pardon, I must take my leaue,

I haue affaires expect mee. O misery!

That which I long for most, I fly from farthest.

Where shall I find my Lucius?

ACT. 1. SCE. 6.

Lucius. Pandora. Neander.

Luc.

What is hee gone?

Pan.

Lucius, were you so nigh, and not discouer'd?

All haile, but whither in such haste my loue?

If thou doest loue mee stay a little.

Luc.

Loue you?

Now all the God's forbid it. I loue you?

My better Angell guard mee from such a sinne.

Should I loue you, a Thiefe?

Pan.

A theife?

Luc.

A theife

I and the worst of Thieues— * Villaine thou liest.

aside.

Pan.

But why a Thiefe? Speake.

Nean.

My diuining soule

Tels mee that Lucius is not farre from hence.

Redit in scenam Neander.

Ha! it is he, I will obserue a little

Luc.

Lady, Ile tell you, since you doe so long

To heare your prayses trumpeted to the world,

First, thou hast rob'd thy Father, thine owne Father,

Of all that little stock of vertue and goodnesse

VVhich nature gaue him, and (most couetous)

Hast powr'd it to thy greater heape; besides

Thou hast vndone thy Sister, stolne from her

All that was beautifull and louely in her;

[Page]That faire maiestick straightnesse which attracts

The eyes of thousands to admire, Was hers;

Those rosie buds that open on your cheekes

Were cropt out of her garden; vpon her ruines

Is that faire Aedifice of thine erected:

Last, thou hast stolne from mee and from Neander

(Which are not two that haue deseru'd the worst

Of thee in all the world) our happinesse

All our content, our ioy, our very selues.

You see how amiable a creature you are,

How well deseruing loue. Should I loue you?

I'de first embrace a Succubus, court the plague,

Or kisse a cloude that's big with lightning— (heavens,

Aside.

Haue yee no thunderbolts in store to strike

This sacrilegious head that thus blaspheames

One of your dearest pieces? —) I loue you?

Whose face drest vp in that same innocent lawne

Showes like a dunghill set about with Lillies.

* (Thou art a periur'd wretch) — should I loue you!

Aside.

Whose eyes are like two fired barrells set

Vpon a Beacon onely to astonish

Aside.

And fright the neighbouring people—* (oh my heart!

It is a hundred thousand miles betwixt

Thee and my tongue) — what doe you meditate on?

Pan.

The nearest way vnto the graue.

Luc.

The graue?

If thou wouldst haue the shortest cut to hell,

To that same receptacle of black soules,

(Where such as dye for loue doe walke in shades

As darke as were their thoughts, whilst they liu'd here)

Lend me thy hand and I will shew it thee.

Pan.

Let it be speedy then good Lucius.

Luc.

Why thou art at thy iourneyes end already.

Pan.

Where's that?

Luc.

'Mongst the departed soules,

below

Where the dire furies haue their habitation,

'Tis in this breast.

Pan.

Why doest not open then

And let me in? — Oh if they liue so here,

Farewell for euer to the vpper world.

Nean.

Ha? does he embrace her? sure it cannot be.

Luc.

Away thou prostitute, immodest, goe.

Nean.

Who is't dares say I must not loue this man?

Luc.

[Page]

Or you, or I must leaue this place.

Pan.

Stay Lucius.

'Tis I that will be gone, the most vnhappy

Of all, on whom nature hath written woman;

Forsaken Constantina, thou and I

Will haue a Dialogue in teares anon.

Exit.

Luc.

Neander!

Nean.

Lucius!

They embrace and so goe out.

ACT. 1. SCEN. 7.Liuely. His boy. 6 Suiters to Mistris Vrsely.
Liu.
I, I, loue on, ha, ha, he, and see what yee will get
By that at last, I'le loue my sefe, my selfe, ha, ha, he,
This day old Liuely thou art iust fourescore,
Quickly some Sack, I haue not yet baptized
Mine eyes this morning as I vse to doe.
Why boy? ha, ha. I am as lusty now,
As full of actiue spirits, as when I wore
But twenty on my back, ha ha, he, this laughing
Surely's restoratiue aboue your gold,
Or all your dearer drugges. The very thought
How quaintly I shall gull my expecting Schollers
My Neophytes that gape to heare the newes
When I shall nod into the graue, does adde
Such vigour to me, that I doe not feele
Not feele the ground I stand vpon. Gan. Filpot passes ouer into Iustice Hookes house, af­ter him Tem. All
 But see
More Suiters still — Then Arth. Armst. and Zeal. Know.
 Now they begin to flock.
Arth. Arm.
Sir if I may aduise you wade no farther
Into this businesse, but desist; I haue
A promise (I'le assure you) from the Iustice.
Zealous Kn.
Sir I may vse the same words vnto you
I haue a promise too, but yesterday
My Father did present him with a horse
Of Robin-red-breast's getting — They striue who shal go first in­to HOO. house.
 by your leaue.
Art. Ar.
Nay Sir come on, if you be good at that.—
Liu.
You haue a promise. God-a-mercy horse. ha, ha, he.
These and some dozen more doe dayly haunt
This Cormorants house, and all (good men) pretend
It is pure loue vnto his crooked daughter
That drawes them thither, when there's not one of 'em
That would vouchsafe her a looke, nay hardly a thought
Vnlesse it were for to contemne her; but
[Page]There is a thing they call a Parsonage
An impropriate Parsonage which th' well giuen Matrons
Haue rescued from the Laitie, and returnes
After my death vnto the Church, which liuing
The Iustice here has sold them, but reseruing
The first donation for himselfe, with which
He intends to put his foolish daughter off.
'Twas once my brothers land, but this same Hooke
By a golden bayte did pluck it from him: well,
It is no matter, I haue my life in it. Ha, ha, he.
But I will cheate them all, will cozen them.
Enter Boy with a glasse of Sack.
Why Boy.
Boy.
Here Sir.
Liu.
Well said my hony, well said.
Oh how it smiles vpon mee! (hum hum) giue it mee
This is mine Antidote 'gainst the Sithe of time.
He that desires to liue, let him doe thus — Hee drinkes.
Drinke Sack i'th morning. Boy, another cup.
How now? another? see how he prunes himselfe. Enter Stutch.
Stutch.
Boy, there's a teston for you, see you looke
Well to my Nagge — I must be generous now.
But let me see, I will accost him thus.
Sir if it please your worship — (it must be so)
These Country Iustices doe loue a life
For to be worshipped at euery word,
I come now from my Lady.
Liu.
(And you may
Returne againe vnto her Ladiship
And tell her that old Liuely is not yet
Intended for to dye.
Stutch.
And doe desire
That as you shall approue of my good parts—
Well 't will doe — now I will knock —
But I will open and enter, 'tis a Solaecismo
For to be modest in such businesses.
The Boy with another glasse of Sack.
Liu.
Well done my Squire o'th bottles, stand you there.
Sir I doe come now from my Lady, ha, ha, he,
And doe desire, that as you shall approue
Of my good parts— ha, ha, he — He drinkes.
Well take the glasse, and get you home, hum, hum, hum.
Hug.
If I can winne the Girle, I'le find a trick Enter Hugo Obligation.
For to dispatch old Liuely presently
[Page]And with much ease; a peice of bread and a pinne
Will doe the cure, or else an honest burre
Lapt vp in butter.
Liu.
Here's a precious rogue,
Oh it is Hugo Obligation
The precise Scriuener, that these three yeares space
Has laboured for orders, this same villaine
Sure is the likeliest man to carry her—
Hugo.
But see where Liuely stands, Ile not be seene. Exit.
Liu.
Being one whom he does vse in all his Couenants.
But I'le out liue them all, the Knaues. Ile now
Goe tast a bowle of pure refined ayre
Vpon yond hill. Exit.

ACT. 1. SCE. 8.

Anteros. Loueall.

Ant.

Yet stay a little, who is this? hee's gone.

Once more the coast is cleare, now I'le aduenture

Towards the Sheepheards doore: not farre from hence

Hid in a thicket I haue prouided for me

A Sheepheards robes, these, if I can preuaile

With this same Stipes for to vndertake

A Seruant of my commendation,

Will I streight leape into, and so remaine

Disguis'd with him, for (as I vnderstand)

The family doth consist of himselfe and's dog,

As for his wife shee seldome is at home

Being a famous Midwife. Blessed house!

Surely in such a place Hippolytus

Did hunt away his solitary howers.

But I forget (tick tock) why Sheepheard, Stipes. How?

Not yet awake?

Lou.

Is not this Anteros?

Enter Loue all.

Ant.

How I was dealt withall by nature when

Shee molded this same lumpe of clay together,

And season'd it with soule, I know not, but

Let mee get out o'th world with obloquy

If euer I could find in all the herd

Of woman-kind yet so much excellence

As could procure a sigh, or kindle in mee

The least sparke of a desire.

Lou.

Tis he, his phrase

Betrayes him.

Ant.

I confesse like Whelps or Kitlings

[Page]Whilst they are young, and suck, and doe not know

The vse of tongue, they're pretty creatures, and

They may be look'd vpon without the danger

Of either stoole or vomit— but—

Lou.

But— VVell Sir Ruffian, I hope to see this Blasphemy of yours against that feathered Deity sent home with a shaft in your bosome for interest ere long.

Ant.

VVhat my little vbiquitary Loueall? my Page of the Smock? my commodity aboue staires? my Court Shittlecocke? tost from one Lady to an other? The Kernell of thy gloue sweete lack.

Lou.

Take shell and all.

Ant.

Why here's a Parcell of mans flesh of another temper now, that has the art of placeing his affections wisely, can loue one because shee's faire, a second because shee's modest, and has his packets of reasons in readinesse too; if he meetes with a wanton Girle, that property takes him, there is hope of actiuity, shee will not fill a bed like Pygmalions Image before hee sacrificed to Venus: if shee bee rude, and ignorant, her harmelesse simplicity catches him; he loues this for the gracefull writhing of her neck; another because she can vayle her borrowed teeth neatly with her Fanne when shee venters at laughter: nothing can scape him, euery part of woman is full of limetwigs to him: which though it bee an humour contrary to mine, who care for none, yet I like it farre aboue your whining constancy as sauouring more of the Man.

Lou.

True. For why should I confine my loue to one Circle? we see that laborious creature the Bee, which is often set before vs for a Coppy of industry, not alwayes droaning vpon one flower, but as soone as shee has suckt the sweetnesse from one, throwes her little ayrie body vpon a second, and so to a third, till at last she comes home with her thighes laden with that pretty spoyle.

An.

VVell said my Loueall, I perceiue thou wilt neuer dye for loue then.

Lou.

No, If I doe, let me lye when I am dead by that Cynick Philosopher with a staffe in my hand, to fright the beast sand fowles from my vnburied carkasse. —

But is there any newes I pray thee growne

Vp in this country since I went to court?

Ant.

O tanto e piu.

First Cleopes your sisters Louer—

Lou.

VVhat? he is not dead I hope?

Ant.

I would he were.

Is gone, has forsooke her.

Lou

How?

Ant.

And she forsooth

Since his departure has betooke her selfe

[Page]Vnto a veyle, silence, and teares; in which

Monastick habit shee does spend her dayes.

I doe but tell you by tradition Sir,

Not from my selfe; but this I can assure you,

It is with vs the Parenthesis of eating.

Lou.

Ther's nothing man within mee. After such vowes?

Such protestations? but the Gods make Loueall

No creature, if he does not suffer for't,

Buy this disloyalty of his, at a deare rate.

Ant.

Can you be quiet? next your faire Kinswoman

Sweete Mistris Vrsly (who without all question

Was Kitlin to Nib, o'th Queene of Faries Kitchin,

Sent to your Vncle for a Newyeeres gift

Vpon exchange by the Elfe) has the Parsonage

Old Liuely liues in hung on her crooked back;

With which faire baite, your good and vertuous Vncle

Does angle for some young and hungry Scholler,

And daily expects the taking of the Gudgeon.

This very houre no lesse then 6 or 7

Are nibling at it, but the hooke is seene;

Your Vncle is not cunning in his fishing,

And so I pray you tell him —

Lou.

But stay Anteros.

I haue discouer'd (vnlesse mine eyes deceiue me)

A stranger thing then is all this you told mee,

What's that i' your hatt? tis not a Valentine

I hope?

Ant.

But I haue got a counter hope

Against that hope of yours; I hope it is.

Lou.

But art thou turn'd a Louer? hast thou got

A Mistris? thou a Mistris? let me see

That I may worship that great name, that has

Begot this miracle in thee.

Ant.

Away,

Keepe backe those common eyes, they be prophane.

Lou.

By all the lips of honour I must see't.

Ant.

Come you haue learn'd such perfum'd oathes at Court,

By all their Feather-men and Tire-women,

Boxes of sucus, cabinets for cerusse —

Nay looke you now— not for a million.

Lou.

For a farre lesser summe sweete Sir nay come

I must and will.

Ant.

Death! what a mad man's this?

[Page]Why if you must and will, then see.

Lou.

What's here?

Rex et regina magnae Britanniae? what's this? what's this?

What are the King and Queene thy Valentines? ha, ha, he.

Ant.

Yes marry are they; why doe you laugh so Loueall?

Lou.

Who can refraine? ha, ha, he.

Ant.

For whom should I admire,

Loue, or adore more? I tell thee Iack, I care not

For such poore weake Idolaters that lye prostrate

To euery little Starre that can but twinkle;

Those petty votaries of Egypt, which

Worship this Onion and the Leeke— for mee

I will not bend a knee vnlesse it be

Vnto the Sun or Moone.

Lou.

Thou art mad, starke mad,

A citizen of Bedlam.

Ant.

I am mad,

Yes, Yes, I am. You then that are so wise

He puls him back.

Enioy your wisedomenesse alone—farewell.

Lou.

Come back ith' name of goodnesse —Anteros—

Ant.

My company may infect you Sir, I am mad.

Lou.

What is my little boy growne sullen now,

And will not eate its dinner?

Ant.

Well, what then?

Lou.

This day my Anteros I will dedicate

To thee and laughter, to morrow I will study

Some deepe reuenge for my abused sister

Vpon that villaine; but no more, thy hand.

Shall wee be merry and laugh each man his rubber?

Ant.

I'me for you for a single game or so.

Lou.

VVell, shall I make a motion then? stay you

He offers to goe out hastily.

But here a little.

Ant.

Call you this a motion?

One word before you trauaile, whether now?

Lou.

I will returne immediatly.

Ant.

So you shall.

He offers againe and Anteros puls him back.

Speake ere you goe.

Lou.

VVell, if I must I wil.

Last night it was my chance to ouertake

Vpon the way a brace of fine tame fooles,

Which I haue brought along with me, these now

He offers to go, Anteros pulls him backe.

Will I goe fetch vnto thee.

Ant.

Peraduenture.

Surely the man has Quicksiluer in's heeles.

I pray thee tell me, what are they for creatures?

Lou.

Wee shall loose time.

Ant.

Rather shall gaine it Sir.

Lou.

The first of them is a fine spiced gallant,

One that has beene some three yeares in codling

At th' Innes o'th' Court, and (as hee tells me) intends

To lye, and soake a while to make him rellish

[Page]In the rose-water of a Knighthood, strew'd

O're with the Sugar of a yearely rent

Of some nine hundred — after the old mans death.

And all this cookery is to please the pallate

Of some nice Minion, who to make her weight

Drags peraduenture some three thousand after her.

The thing (to doe it right) beside the managing of it's rapier, and a pretty competencie of play parcels, can salute you, and take it's leaue of you in French, but so miserably harsh that any one may conclude, hee neuer trauail'd for his language further then Littleton — He —

Ant.

Is a very asse, no more of him; but what's the other?

Lou.

His kinsman. What hee is now he knowes not himselfe, else he would haue tolde me, but he has beene a Lawyer; Clerke in's dayes, his prattle is altogether about the complections, and hee will reade you a lecture of simple bawdery for some two houres in your eare if you'l suffer him, and after all this, he feeles you by the nose, and cryes Marke the end on 't.

Ant.

And is this all? giue me thy hand, I haue a brace of the like creatures at my seruice. I will play with thee from a Stiuer to a Guilder, from a Guilder to a Doller, from a Doller to a French crowne, from a French crowne to a pound, from a pound, to a hundred (marke what I say) in the way of friendship, with those two grand coxcombes thou hast all to be worded so.

Lou.

You will, are you so confident?

Ant.

Yes marry am I. Onely I will not cloy you with an inuentory of your dishes before hand, take this in briefe. One of them is a Scholler newly warme in a lambskin, Nephew to old bully Liuely, at whose house they are both now, the other is an elder brother, and an heire, and he shall tell you so as soone as he sees you. But stay where shall our Campus Martius be?

Lou.

No place Better then this, but speake the houre.

Ant.

Let me see,

[Hee lookes vpon his watch]

'tis iust eight now, some halfe an houre after nine I will not faile.

Lou.

To bring your champions with you.

Ant.

Or else I'le make good the place my selfe, which I would be loath to doe I tell you.

Exit.

Lou.

My first worke now is for to see my Vncle,

And as I heare my melancholly sister.

That done through the backe doore that leades to th' Stables

(where they are taking order for their horses.)

[Page]I will goe visite my two creatures and

Prepare them for the Combat.

Finis Actus Primi.

The Song.

Cupid if a God thou art,
Transfix this Monsters stubborne heart.
But if all thy shafts be flowne,
And thy quiuer empty growne,
Here be Ladies that haue eyes
Can furnish thee with new supplies.
Yet winged Archer doe not shoot at all,
'Tis pitty that hee should so nobly fall.

ACT. 2. SCEN. 1.

Stipes making of himselfe ready with his Sheepe-hooke in his hand. Mistris Vrsely, Merda.

Sti.

Heigh hoe —

'Tis a fine morning this as I haue seene,

And a most early Spring — but daughter Merda,

Why Merda I say, why daughter Merda, what,

Haue not the Fleas yet made a breakefast of you?

You'le rise? or doe you meane that Mistris Vrsely

Shall take you in your bed? shee'l not be long

Ere she be here — Oh me! shee's here already.

M^rs. Vrsely enters.

Why Merda, Merda I say, goe to,

I, I by'r Lady.

Vrs.

Fa, la, la, la, I haue found six Checkstones in my

She sings.

Father's yard, all in my Father's yard, and now I

Will goe see if Merda will play with me —

Oh Stipes, where is your daughter Merda?

Sti.

Oh sweet Mistris Vrsely, oh that I were a young

Scholler now for your sake; ha, this is shee that

The beggers fight for: come on i' faith young Mistris,

Which of all the blackcoates doe you loue best?

Vrs.

Blackcoates? I care not this for any of them,

I ne're will loue any but Anteros;

But pray you Stipes call your daughter Merda,

Is shee not vp yet?

Sti,

[Page]

Merda, will you come? or doe you long vntill

I fetch you out — At length forsooth: are

Enter Merda.

You not asham'd of this you great Maukin you?

Vrs.

Oh Merda, will you play at Checkstones with me?

Sti.

Where is your answer, and your curt'sie Mayden?

If it please you forsooth, say.

Mer.

If it please you forsoothsay.

Sti.

Say? thou filthy harlotry, thou;

Oh here's a Girle brought vp most daintily;

Well was it not for shame I'de take you vp—

He offers.

Mer.

Father, good Father, forgiue me but this once, I'le neuer

Doe so any more.

Vrs.

Stipes, you shall forgiue her,

I'le make my Father take his house from you,

And the North close, vnlesse —

Sti.

Thanke your young Mistris; young Mistris I

Doe thanke you say.

Mer.

Young Mistris I doe thanke you say.

Sti.

Againe? but oh the diggers!

What doe I see? My Sheepe haue quite disgrest

Theyr bounds, and leap't into the seuerall.

Whu, whu, why Scab, the last, the last, there scab

'Tis the best Curre

That euer mumbled crust.

How daintily he catcht that Sherehogge! there,

So, so, au, au: why so; haup, haup, you roague

But I will follow him.

ACT. 2. SCEN. 2.

Mistris Vrsely. Merda.

Ʋrs.

Come Merda, will you play now?

Mer.

No, I wo'nt vnlesse you'le giue me those bracelets.

Vrs.

Take them.

Mer.

And your gloues to.

Vrs.

Heere, fa, la, la.

Mer.

Stay while I put them on though.

Ʋrs.

What shall we play for?

Mer.

Two pinnes a game.

Vrs.

Stake then: heigh ho Anteros!

Mer.

How many shall we make vp?

Vrs.

[Page]

One and thirty.

Mer.

Will you haue Winter, or Summer?

Vrs.

— Summer— no Winter.

[...]i, Winter, Winter, Winter:

Mer.

But you said Summer first, I wo'nt play.

Vrs.

Au, but I said Winter afterward though.

Mer.

Begin then.

Ʋrs.

One—

Mer.

So, so, you toucht the other stone, now I must play.

Vrs.

You ly, I did not touch it.

Mer.

You ly, you did touch it, and you shal haue no pins here.

Ʋrs.

Sh'ant I so? but I will though; doe you scratch hussie?

Mer.

I that I will scratch, and bite too.

Ʋrs.

Giue me my gloues, and bracelets againe.

Mer.

You may goe looke 'vm, I wo'nt, as long as you gaue

Them me. Giue a thing, and take a thing

That's the Deuills gold-ring.

Ʋrs.

Well if I don't tell my Father of this, you Pusse you.

Mer.

You Munkey.

Ʋrs.

You Bastard.

Mer.

Doe you abuse one's friends you Iade you?

Vrs.

And you call me Iade you are a Whore.

Mer.

Doe you call Whore?

Ʋrs.

I that I will call Whore, well, well, the next time

That you eate any Cheesecakes at our house

You shall haue better luck shall you.

Mer.

Your Cheesecakes? we haue as good of our owne.

Vrs.

Au, hau, you shall nere make no durt pyes

With me in our Barne hussie.

Mer.

Who cares? then you shall gather no more Violets, nor

Primeroses in our Close.

Ʋrs.

Your Close? I'le gather there in spight of your teeth.

It is my Fathers Close, so it is, so it is.

Your Father does but hire it — Oh here he comes

Here he comes, here comes my Father,

Now you shall see.

Mer.

Au but I'le runne home.

ACT. 2. SCE. 3.

Iustice Hooke, the six Suiters, Mistris Vrsely, Liuely.

Hook.

Come on, I am not of that ranke of Patrons

[Page]Which set to sale the livings of the Church.

(Oh are you here my daughter? wipe your nose;)

I take no bonds in secret, sell no horse

For his price centuple, nor doe I send

The eager suiters up unto my Lady,

That she might judge which is the better gifted.

(Sir if your father will be bound to pay

Hee takes Stuc. aside.

The first yeeres revenues, you are the man shall speed,

A reservation of mine owne tithes too

Must be concluded on before you haue it)

But as a true lover of vertue, doe

Chuse rather to conferre a double good

Then the least dammage on the man I deale with.

Behold my young and tender daughter here;

I doe confesse shee's not the rarest piece

That ever nature drew, nor is it fit

That such as you, who either are, or should be

Wedded unto your Bookes, should haue a lowd

And clamorous beautie to disturbe your studies.

You need not feare the thought of her perfection.

Will call you from a piece of Greeke to reade

Miracles in her face. Hold up your head,

Enter Liuely.

And tell me now which of this goodly troupe

You haue most mind to, for on him will I

Bestow old Liuely's Parsonage, and thee

In Marriage.

Liue.

Excellent, excellent good, ha, ha, ha.

Vrse.

I will haue Anteros, Terpanders sonne.

Hoo.

Let me not heare another syllable,

You peevish girle, you; you haue Anteros?

What doe you weepe? no more: come on your wayes,

And sit you downe here by me, while your Suiters

Explaine themselues and their good parts before you.

Vrs.

Father, huff, huff, I will none of those two men

With the short haire, doe what you can I will not.

Hoo.

Why so my daughter? peace.

Vrs.

Huff, huff, —because I know

As well as can be by their lookes, that they

Cannot containe themselues within an houre,

And you doe know I cannot hold my wa —

Hoo.

[Page]

Peace thou most arrant foole, before your wooers

Thus to proclaime your imperfections?

Live.

Ha, ha, he: another bout with my conserues for that;

This box shall add three moneths unto my life,

He eats conserues.

And this same slice of Quinces seven. I, I,

Begin to pleade, doe, doe.

Zeal.

My sweetest Mistresse,

This fellow speakes thorow the nose.

I will divide this my Oration

Iust into three and thirtie parts, all which

With your vouchsafed patience at this time

I will runne through.

Hoo.

The candle of the day

Will burne within the socket, ere thou'st done;

I pray thee leaue.

Zeal.

No sir, I will not leaue,

I am not yet arrived at the poynt.

Gan.

And he doth use to tyre all his hearers.

Hoo.

Oh; he hath don't already, don't already

Zeal.

Besides all this —

Hoo.

Now out upon his lungs,

My dinner will bee spoyl'd, the capon burnt,

The beefe as blacke as mummy; this mans breath

Will blast them all.

Live.

Ha, ha, he.

Hoo.

Hast thou ta'ne Orders fellow?

Zea.

If't please you, no.

Hoo.

Did'st e're preach?

Zea.

Onely one Sermon sir

For approbation to a female Audience.

But I haue heere letters of commendation

From seventeene honest men of good report

Amongst their neighbours.

Hoo.

Spare your paines good sir.

Tem.

As for my selfe, fayre Gentlewoman,

This is hoarse.

I cannot but inveigh against these times

Wherein—

Hoo.

What sayes hee?

Arth.

If it please your Worship,

Ha's lost his voyce with rayling against Bishops,

And the fayre discipline of the Church.

Hoo.

[Page]

Oh villaine,

Command him silence.

Stuch.

'Tis a courtesie sir

You inflict upon him, tis not a punishment.

Gan.

The holy Matrons now will rob their husbands

To contribute to the afflicted Saint.

Live.

And think they merit in it. But no more;

I will goe gull them all, and presently.—

o—o— o—o—oo—ooo—

The longest day I see will haue his euening,

o—o— o — oo — o — ooo —

Hoo.

But see old Liuely; stand close and obserue.

Liu.

O! now the wisht for minute does approach

Which I so long haue wayted for, and not I

Alone—but let them now enjoy their wishes.

o—o —oo— ooo—

I feele my heart-strings crack, and the whole lumpe

Groanes for a speedy dissolution.

Ho.

How's this? but yesterday he was in's sacke,

Told me he hop'd to liue to eate a Goose

Which graz'd upon my graue: so suddenly?

Liu.

Haue I no friends about me? must I goe

Out of the world in private thus? from home?

Without one friend to take his leaue of me?

Kind Iustice Hooke, O that good man M^r. Hooke.

Hoo.

Peace, not a word: what does he name me for?

Liue.

Would thou wast here, but to participate

Of my last dying breath, I would pronounce thee

Mine heyre in totall.

Hoo.

Beare witnesse Gentlemen —

Good M^r. Liuely, 'lasse how fares it with you?

Liue.

Whoe's that names me?

Hoo.

He whom you ask'd for,

Sacriledge Hooke.

Liue.

Sacriledge Hooke's mine heyre,

he fals down as if he were dead.

And so farewell thou false and flattering world.

Arth.

Alasse hee 's dead.

Ho.

Peace, not so lowd for feare you call him back.

Yee all can beare me record I'me his heyre.

All.

Wee can.

Hoo.

[Page]

Why Robert, Oliver,

Runne to the Church immediately, and cause

The bell bee tould with speed: old M^r. Liuely

Is newly dead—Alas, I can but weepe

To view this spectacle of mortalitie,

And I haue cause to spend some teares for him— ha ha he.

Arth.

I doubt he is not fully dead yet Patron,

Shall I make sure work with him? giue him a knock?

Hoo.

Offer no violence vnto the dead

I charge you, 'tis as bad as sacriledge,

Which I haue alwayes hated.

Liue.

So has the Devill.

Gan.

Sweet Mistris Vrsely.

Zeal.

Fairest Lady.

Temp.

Stay,

No haste good sir.

Arth.

But by your leaue sweet sir.

Hu.

Tis I haue right unto her, shee's a creature,

And you are one o'th wicked.

Stutch.

Out thou rascall that liv'st upon thy rayling;

Good Mistris Vrsely,—

They all lay hold on her.

I haue a share therein.

M^rs Vrse.

VVhy father, father,

O me, me, me, they'le pull mee into pieces;

O my hand, O my arme, my arme, O my backe.

Liue.

Ha, ha, he.

Hoo.

Forbeare this rudenesse gentlemen, my daughter

Shall haue her choyce; these are not wayes to gaine her,

They must bee gentle, soft behaviours

That winne a woman, not such boysterous Rhethoricke.—

But harke, the bell doth toll: I'le presently

Goe seize upon his goods and chattell,

Liu.

Ha?

he rises.

And will you so? but I doe know a tricke

VVorth twenty of that.— I pray good M. Hooke,

VVhom toll's this bell for?

Hoo.

Oh! for my hopes,

VVhat does hee liue againe?

Liu.

And liues to laugh at thee, and at thy basenesse,

Covetous wretch. Ha, ha, he.

Sir, as I take it I may change my will. Ha, ha, he.

Hoo.

[Page]

Oh what a knaue is this? a ranke old knaue?

A stinking knaue? a knaue in graine? fie, fie,

That I should thus bee gulld? follow me daughter,

And you Gentlemen.

Liue.

Ha, ha, ha, Away you Ravens,

I'le make yee all goe barefoot yee young villaines.

Hee beats them in with his staffe.

ACT. 2. SCEN. 4.Liuely solus.
But let mee now muster my wits together
Call all my fancies into ranke, and place
Each severall quirke of this my working braine
In its true file.— 'Tis an unheard of loue,
A miracle of Friendship this, for two young men,
In th' exaltation of their bloods, both Rivals
In such a beautie, for to plot and sweat
How to be miserable, that's how to place
His friend in the fruition of his Loue;
'Tis not within the compasse of a faith.
This morning each of them entreated me
In private, that I would invent some way
To winne the whole affection of Pandora
Not for himselfe, but for his friend: which is
(Though in another Idiome) as if
They should haue said, get me a comely rope
My Bully Liuely, and hang me up, or else
Provide mee an ounce or two of Mercury,
Which I will take in posset drinke and dye.
But Lucius is the man whom I desire
To pleasure most, therefore I now haue counsaild
Neander for to counterfeit a wedding,
Which being fancied true by Lucius
And the indifferent Gentlewoman, might cause
A speedy marriage 'twixt his friend and her.
This does he swallow, and now there nothing wants
But—ha? what's here to doe? what Boy is this
That Stipes thus dragges after him?

[Page]

ACT. 2. SCE. 5.

Lively, Stipes, Constantina, Merda.

Sti.

Why quickly Merda, bring me a chaire out quickly.—

O O you villaine.—Why when?—So, so, go to, go to,

Tarry you still my daughter,

That you may heare some of your Fathers wisedome.—

Come on you Crack-rope, what is your businesse, 'pray you,

To lurke thus in my Masters grounds? you are

A scout? one that discouers are you not?

Liue.

It is a pretty Lad, and being drest

May easilie passe for Woman. Well Ile marke

Sti.

O you're a stubborne gallowes, you will answere?

Con.

O mee vnfortunate; what shall I say?

Merda playes with babes clouts.

Sti.

Heigh!

An ill yeere on you, you great Maukin you,

Making of Puppets? one of your age and breeding?

You haue an Husband Minion? you a rodde. —

But to returne againe vnto the purpose,

Where dwell you sirrah? will you not answere me?

Come on your wayes, I'le haue you to my Master.—

Con.

Vnhappy wretch! what shall I answere him?

Nay good Sir stay, I'le tell you: oh how I tremble—

Sti.

Then quickly Sirrah.

Con.

Lest this robustious Clowne

Should hale me 'fore my Vncle in this habit.

Sti.

What's that you mutter on? you haue a tricke

To say your prayers backwards? haue you not?

Liue.

This Lad is mine, I'le take him from the Sheepheard.

Con.

Not farre from hence I had both friends and parents.

(Howsoeuer how I want) but cruell Fates

Haue enuied them their liues, and me my friends.

Liue.

It shall be so, I'le make a contract straight

Betwixt Neander and this Boy. Now Stipes,

God saue you.

Sti.

Salve Domine. But why put you your Sickle

Into my Haruest thus? go to, go to,

You're troublesome— well Sirrah.

Liue.

Well Sirrah? Slaue,

Thou vnpollish'd piece of clay, how dar'st thou thus

[Page]Vncivilly vse a young Gentleman

Whose friends and kindred I haue knowne to bee

VVorthy of more respect then thou of scorne,

VVhich both come neare to infinite?

Sti.

Very good.

And doe you know his friends and kindred then?

Liue.

VVould thou didst know thy betters halfe so well,

Vntutourd dunghill.— In what state you sit?

He ouerthrowes Stipes, chaire & al.

Stand vp, or else Ile make thee lye for euer.

Sti.

Are you in earnest or in jest?

Liue.

How thinke you?

Stip.

You great Rigs-norton you, doe you stand still

Hee strikes her.

And see your onely Father wrong'd thus? ha? —

VVell, if I doe not fit your cap for this

(If it be made of wooll) when you tithe Lambes,

I'le neuer goe to Church more, if th'whole flocke

Has any worse then other t'shall goe hard

But some of them shall fall vnto your lot.

Con.

Alasse I doubt he knowes me

His eyes so dwell vpon me.

Liue.

Come my boy,

VVhat will you goe with me?

Con.

Thankes to my starres;

He knowes me not.

Stip.

Boy will you dwell with mee?

Thou shalt haue dumpling Boy, enough, and Bacon

Shall be so deepe in fatt, that thou maist wade

Vp to the chinne in lard: Salute your Master.

Mer.

And kisse your masters daughter that's the next

Thing you must practise.

Liue.

You his Master, Hempseed?

Mer.

Truely me thinkes I could e'ne loue this Boy

'Tis such a pretty thing; Father, I pray you

Good Father, let him dwell with vs.

Sti.

No more,

Peace, so he shall.

Liue.

Hands off you lease of Sheepe-skinnes.

Con.

No, I will dwell with this old Gentleman.

Liue.

Well said, sweet youth.

Con.

But on this condition,

That you will use me like a Gentleman

Of qualitie and worth, for I must tell you

With teares, how e're my fortunes are dejected

Now, I doe come of no meane house nor blood.

Liue.

Feare not my boy, thou shalt haue cause to thanke me:

Follow; my maids shall presently vnpage him,

And hang woman on his backe.

Con.

But I doe hope

aside

That some kind God or other will find out

Some meanes for my escape; if not (I'ue sayd it)

[Page]This hand shall make a passage for my soule

To leaue this body.

Liue.

Boy, doe you come?

Con.

I come.

Exeunt Liuely and Constan.

Merda playes with babies clouts againe.

Sti.

VVhat is he gone? — hi-day! what againe?

Let me be hang'd, my dogge and my whole Familie,

My Wife and all, I'le put her in, if I

Doe not so 'flict your buttockes Minion;

Ile breake you of this trade of making children

Before your time, if I can find a willow

VVithin a mile of an Oake.

Exit

Mer.

VVhat shall I do? oh what shall I do? what shall I do?

My father's gone to get a rod, what shall I doe?

Oh, oh, here comes my mother.—

ACT. 2. SCE. 6.

Pandora, Placenta, Merda.

Pan.

Placenta, you haue heard my cares, my griefes

And which hath caus'd them all, you know my loue,

Now by those tender yeeres, by that first raye

Of blessed light these infant eyes receiu'd

Vpon those vigilant knees, I doe conjure thee

Forsake me not in these my miseries

Mer.

Mother, Mother, Mother, what shall I doe?

Pla.

What newes with you, you fayrie brat? you changeling?

Daughter to Madam Pusse the kitchin mayd,

Take that and get you in, or Ile—

She beats her.

Mer.

Vm vm, vm.

Pla.

Will you not stirre?

Carry that chaire in with you Milderkin.

Exit Merda.

Pla.

What would you haue me do?

Pan.

Y'aue heard my sicknesse,

'Tis the physician must prescribe the medicine

And not the patient.

Pla.

Will it suffice

If ere the Sunne does set you doe embrace

One of your Lovers?

Pan.

By all my vowes it will;

Nor am I much solicitous in the choyce,

So I haue one.

Pla.

But I must haue your helpe,

You must not meerely be a patient

In this same plot; can you dissemble thinke you?

Pan.

I am a woman, and may learne in time.

Pla.

[Page]

Well then 'tis thus: you see your pampered Louers

(Like two fat Oxen in a Stall) stand blowing

Vpon their meat, are nice forsooth, and squeamish,

Will not fall to, because they're cloyd with dainties,

The onely way for to procure them stomacks,

Is to withdraw their fodder; take your loue

Before their eyes, and giue it to another,

Or seeme to doe at least, 'twill fetch them back;

And make them lick their lips at you, scratch for you:

I know not by what Fate, but true it is,

Wee neuer prize ought right till the departure,

And then our longing's multiplied. Can you fayne

A loue vnto some other Gentleman?

And seeme quite to neglect them and their seruice?

Pan.

I feare I cannot, 'tis too hard a Prouince:

But what will this aduantage me I pray you?

Pla.

So much, as nothing you can doe, will more.

A Louer's like a Hunter, if the game

Be got with too much ease hee cares not for't;

Shee that is wise in this our wayward age

VVill keepe her Louers sharpe, make them to ceize

Vpon a firebrand for meat.— What say you?

Pan.

Why I will try I say.

Pla.

Try? Oh that I

Had but that beauty in my managing,

In-faith I would not part with a good looke

Vnder a brace of Tens.

Pan.

Indeede Placenta

As you are now, you'd neede to sell them deare,

It is a rare commodity, your Shop

Affords not many of them.

Pla.

For a kisse

I'de haue a Lordship; a whole Patrimony

For a nights lodging; Come, you Maydens now

Are grown too kinde, too easie in your fauours,

A few smooth, oyly, verses now adayes

Bought of some Poet, and so iustly call'd

The Gallants owne that sends them, where your tresses

Are termed Sunbeames, and your rubie lips

Congealed Nectar, haue more power to winne you,

Then in my dayes two veluet Petticoates,

Or an hundred acres turn'd into Taffaties.

Speake, can you doe it?

Pan.

Sure I thinke I can,

[Page]If need require.

Pla.

It is enough, but see,

What Strip [...]ing's this comes here? Ha? 'tis most happily

This is Endymion Lucius his Page.

ACT. 2. SCE. 7.

Endymion. Placenta. Pandora.

Endy.

There's not a solitary walke, nor Groue

Wherein a Louer may retire himselfe

Free from the eyes of the prophaner people,

But I haue trauers'd o're to finde my Master;

I haue not left a Spring vnquestioned,

Or any spreading Oake, whole quauering toppe

Is but halfe Phoebus proofe, nor can I heare

Ought of Neander his companion.

Pla.

Pandora, this same Boy was sent on purpose

Vnto this place by some kinde Nymph or other

Inhabiting these Woods in meere compassion

Of thee and of thy miseries; wee could not

Haue studied for a better Stale then this:

Prepare your selfe to faine a loue vnto him.

Endym.

But see Placenta, and my Masters Loue,

I will enquire of them.

Pla.

Endymion

All happinesse.

Endy.

As much to you Placenta.

Pan.

And what to me?

Endy.

What you deserue faire Lady,

Which is aboue my wishes.

Pla.

But Endymion,

Pri'thee sweet Lad, let mee entreat a courtesie,

What Country-man are you?

Endy.

What Country-man?

An English man I take it.

Pla.

An English man?

I rather thinke thou art a Russian

Thou carryest such a Winter in thy breast.

How canst thou suffer such a winning beauty

To stand neglected? without a salutation?

Goe to, you shame-fac'd foole, goe kisse her, goe.

Endy.

How kisse her? it does not become a seruant

To be so sawcie with his Masters Loue.

Pan.

It rather not becomes Endymion,

A Youth of that same molde and symetry

To be so bashfull 'fore a Gentlewoman:

As for thy Master I disclaime his loue

As one vnworthy.

Endy.

How? disclaime his loue?

Pan.

[Page]

And with his loue, all the whole world of men,

Except 'be thee my soule: why flyest thou mee?

Pla.

Come on, Come on you little frozen-nothing,

I thinke wee must be fayne to make you take

Your loue potion in a horne, you are so skittish.

Endy.

Nay but Placenta.—

Placenta holds his hands whiles Pandora kisses him.

Pan.

O most redolent!

Aurora's spiced bed is not more sweet,

Not all the odours of the early East.

Endy.

You do but mock me.

Pan.

How? but mock thee sweet?

By all the Cupids in thy face, I loue thee

Beyond th' expression of a womans tongue.

Pla.

This was that simple one that could not counterfeit.

Pan.

By this same nest of kisses I protest—

What would'st thou more?

Endy.

More of your protestations.

Pan.

But canst thou loue me then?

Endy.

Indeed faire Lady

I doe not know, I am but newly enter'd

Into this louing trade.

Pla.

You are a Wagge:

Take her by th' hand and streine it gently, so. —

Now kisse her fanne and sigh. — Good, excellent.

(Well I haue seene some Gallants in my dayes,

Though 'twas my fortune to be married,

To that same lob my husband, but no matter;)

Fy on this modesty, 'tis out of fashion,

Giue her a greene gowne quickly, shee will thanke you.

Endy.

Will not as much sattin of the same colour

To make her one doe as well?

Pla.

Come, you'r a foole;

Downe with her, shee will discard you else,

As bashfull, and vnfit for Ladies seruice.—

[Pandora slips downe and pulls him after her.]

Pan.

Ay me! what meane you Sir?

Pla.

Why there, why so;—

Oh for Neander now and Lucius

To view this spectacle, this would crack that great

That strong and mighty bond of friendship, and

Make them both quarrell for her: nay Endymion,

As shee did pluck you downe, so 'tis your office

To take her vp, else shee'l forget her selfe

Good soule, and slumber there eternally.—

Pan.

Now fie vpon you Sir, you've spoyl'd my linnen.

Pray Heauens no body saw vs: good Placenta

Reedifie what is amisse.

Pla.

All's well,

[Page]All's well, saue onely here does want a pin.

But stay I'le furnish you. —

Yes, here's a knot molested too.—

Pan.

Faire Sir,

This may seeme lightnesse in mee.

Pla.

Rather grauity

Who naturally tend downeward thus.

Pan.

But Sir,

Let me entreat you for to entertaine

A better faith of her that is your seruant,

Giue it the right name Sir, and call it Loue.

Endy.

I'le call it what you please faire Gentlewoman.

Pla.

Hee neuer thinks of's Master: well this Boy,

Must wee trayne farther with vs till wee meete

With our two icy Louers. Come Pandora

Will you entreate your fayrest Paramoure

T'accompany vs into the Groue? vvee may

Perchance there meete his Master, whom hee seekes.

Pan.

Sweet shall I craue?

Endy.

Not where you may cōmand

Pla.

So, so, I'le now go plant this billing couple

Exeunt Pan. Endym.

Vnder some pleasant tree, which done I'le goe

And range the fields for Lucius and Neander,

And bring them to behold their close embraces,

This certainely will make them hungry, and bite,

Waken their dull and sleepy appetite,

VVee neuer prize ought truly, thinke it deare,

Vntill the time of parting does draw neare.—

Exit.

Finis. Actus Secundi.

The Song.To the Ladies, Ioy, delight,
And a seruant that dares fight;
No neede of painting, but a face
With perpetuity of grace.
To the Lords a gracious eye
If they haue a Mistris by.
To them both, more then all this,
Theyr Princes happinesse, and blisse.

ACT. 3. SCEN. 1.

Anteros. M. Mungrell. Hammershin. Loueall.

Ant.

The day's our owne, we haue the Sun, the winde,

And all that can be call'd aduantages, beare vp.

Mung.

[Page]

As I'me a Gentleman, and an elder brother—

Ante.

St, not a word.

Mung.

You wrong me Sir, I will sweare out my sweare, as

I am a Gentleman I must, and will sweare.

Ant.

Nay sweete Master Mungrell

Mistake me not, I doe not goe about,

For to depriue you of that ornament,

That fashionable quality: I but entreat you,

For to bee frugall in your language, and,

To husband your lungs; you haue an enemy

That will require them all, had you more oathes.

Mung.

How? Doe you thinke I haue no more? by my—

Ante.

Oh, hold, hold, hold.

Mung.

Nay, you shall heare mee, by —

Ante. stops his mouth.

Ante.

O, O, O.

Mung.

By my— by— my indad law.

Ante.

By my indad law, you'le spoyle all, why you'le spend

all before the time. But see your adversaries are at hand.

This is their Captaine, their Conductor. Loue. Stay.

Enter Loueall. and puls out his watch.

I'ue hit the very punto, this same minute,

Do's cut the hower into two equall portions.

Ant.

You that are growne a Time-obseruer, you

With that fine pocket Saturne in your hand;

Looke this way.

Lou.

But are these your Champions?

Ant.

They are my Conqerours, if you please: but where are your imployments?

Lou.

They'le bee here immediately.

Ant.

No more. Loueall, please you to take notice

Of these Gentlemen, they are of ranke, and my friends.

Lou.

Sweete Sir, my only wish is that my fortunes were but of growth, to shew in what degree of honour, I hold any whom you shall vouchsafe to call a friend. —I thirst to know you Sir.

Ant.

Doe not sweare yet.

Mun.

Why so?

Ant.

Nay as you please.

Mun.

Sir I desire you to pardon me, I must not sweare yet, my Generall will giue the word when I must vent.

Ante.

'Tis no great matter, if you throw away Cudnig [...],

Or beswiggers, or some such innocent oath vpon him.

Mung.

Say you so?

[The Scholler offers to salute Loveall who regards him not]

Ham.

When will he come towards me?

Lou.

[Page]

Sir may I know your name?

Mung.

My name Sir? why Sir? I am not asham'd of my name Sir. My name is Sir M. Mung. Sir. A poore elder brother Sir. And yet not very poore neither Sir. Heire to six, or seuen hundred a yeare Sir. My father is a Gentleman Sir. I haue an Vncle that is a Iustice of Peace Sir. I can borrow his white Mare when I please sir. She stood him in thirty peeces sir.

Lou.

A Mungrell Sir?

Ant.

Only be sure you be not dash'd.

Lou.

Ashamed of your name, say you? You come of a very great house, I'le assure you; I know many of the Mungrels that are able to dispend, yeerely, more then I am willing to speake of at this [...]ime; and which keepe their Sonnes as Gentlemanlike, at the Innes o'th Court wi [...]h as good cloathes on their backs, as rich belts, and as faire guilt rapiers, as the best Gentlemen o'the Land Sir— O well said, come lift vp brauely now.

ACT. 3. SCE 2.

Anter. Noddle-Empty. Loue. Will Wiseacres. Hamershin. Mr. Mungrell.

Anter.

Tis a hundred to nothing, but these are they, looke to your standing, and be sure you suffer him to offer first; you haue the more advantage.

Nodd.

Let me alone, if I doe not vtterly confound him, let mee neuer weare good suite of clothes more, I haue not read the Arcadia for nothing.

Lou.

Anteros, a co [...]pie of friends of mine.

Ante.

Sir I shall count my selfe fortunate in their acquaintance; Sweete Sir— worthy Sir.

Nodd.

Sans complement Mounsieur, Ie suis, vostre treshumble varlet.

Lou.

There's one of his parcels gone, he has but three more in all the world.

Ant.

Signior mio molto honorifico, per testa del mio padre, io non he altro, advffirirui, che me stesso, però fate capitale di me, è splendetemi per quel chio vaglio.

Nod.

Do's he speake French Sir?

Lou.

How thinke you Sir?

Noddle.

Nay but well I meane?

Lou.

O admirably, take heed what you doe, hee's a great Trauailer I tell you.

Noddle.

Gods mee! is he so? I'le not meddle with him then, I would haue tickled him else.

Ante.

Signior, io mi terrei ricco s' io hanessi solamente le decime de i vostri favori.

Nod.

Nay Sir I am not so well skilled in the language, as I [Page] could wish I were, for your sake, I can speake a little Sir, Ʋn peu, Monseur, tellement quellement.

Ante.

May I be so bo [...] as to beare your name Sir?

Nod.

My name is Nodale Empty Sir.

Ant.

An Inns othe Court man Sir?

Nodd.

I haue pist in some greene pots in my dayes Sir.

Will.

Wis. My name is William Wiseacres Sir. I am of a Sanguine complexion.

Ante.

In good time Sir.

Wise.

Very melancholy sometimes Sir.

He offers to feele him by the nose end.

Ante.

Like enough Sir

Wise.

Ha, he, he, he—

Loue.

Ha, ha, ha, he,— O my sides—

Ant.

Gods my life! I should loose it all were my patrimony layd on't. Come on Sir, brace me your inuention to the height, you see your Antagonist.

Loue.

To him, ferret him, ferret him.

Nodd.

Noble Sir may I bee so ambitious, as to desire my name, to be enrolled in the Catalogue of your well wishers.

Ham.

I doe honour the very shadow of your shoe strings.

Loue.

Your mock'd Sir, hee weares bootes.

Hamm.

And am wholly your's cap a pea.

Noddle.

Pox on 't, I made full account, to haue had that next my selfe, how came hee by it trow?

Ham.

What say you Sir?

Noddle.

I say Sir, that it is your best course, to take heede how you make a deed of guift of your selfe, for feare some of your friends suffer for it, for the Physnomy of your boot, tels mee, it was neuer made for you, I doe not thinke but you borrowed them.

Ham.

And I say Sir, that it is better to borrow then to take vpon trust, and neuer pay, as many such gallants as you doe.

Ante.

Loueall, this heat is done, lets rub, and walke.

Loue.

Agreed, Master Empty, take some pitty on the Scholler, let him breath a little, wilt please you walke?

Lovell & Nod walke. Ant. and Ham. walke.

Nod.

I am your Seruant.

Ant.

Well done, 'twas smartly followed; but lets walke;

Wise.

Ha, I don't thinke ne're goe Law, but I haue seene you some where.

Ant.

You're beholding to your eyes for that.

Mun.

[Page]

It may be so.

Ant.

Loueall, looke, looke, looke, another heate.

VVise.

Don't you vse sometimes about Stamford side?

Mun.

Yes Sir, I haue hunted, and hawked, there abouts Sir in my dayes, and beene in Sara's he [...]e too Sir, I was at the last horse race, Sir, when Veluet-heeles, and Currants run Sir, I haue some reason to remember it, I am sure, I was cheated of twenty peeces there, Ile sweare vnto you Sir as I'me a Gentleman, and an elder Brother, I'me a very foole—

Lou.

Out you Nullifidian, don't let the Gentleman sweare, tak't vpon his bare word.

Wise.

Nay Sir, I'le belieue you without swearing.

Mun.

Nay but conceiue me Sir. I was a very foole (as I said before) to bee drawne in after that manner, I would faine see the best cheater of them all, gull me of so much now.

Wise.

Well sir, I desire your better acquaintance. I haue the best wine in Towne for you, please you to accept.

Mun.

Thanke you sir.

[They shake hands, he feeles him by the nose end.]

Wise.

I think you & I are much vpon a complexion. He, he, he, you haue lost your mayden-head. If it please you Sir to come to my lodging Sir, when you come to London, I shall thinke my selfe very much bound to you, I haue some pretty bookes there to lend you, I haue Aristotle's Problemes in English, and Albertus magnus de secretis, I, as I am a liuing soule.

Lou.

Let's take 'em off.

[They part, Lou. walkes with Wis. Ant. with Mun.]

Nod.

Troth Sir you haue a very neat suit there, I am much taken with the proportion of your hose, 'tis a deepe French Sir. I haue a Sattin suit to make shortly, and I would bestow, some twenty dozen of gold lace vpon it, if I could but purchase the knowledge of such a Taylour as your's, I should thinke my selfe beholding to my Starrs for it.

Ante,

O your walking faculty, it is the only thing, now adayes your Gentlemen practise.

Ham.

Indeed Sir, I thinke it bee time for you to seeke out for a new one, for I thinke your old one will trust you no longer.

Ante.

Should you but see them walke in Paules, or in the Temple, with what a rauishing garbe—you would admire.

Wise.

[Page]

He, he, you are such a merry man, but indeed I hold that Tobacco is very good for Phlegmatick complections.

Ant.

Your hilt a little forwarder; very good, your very rapier speakes French; I protest hee showes in the gracefull carriage of his legge, as though he had been a man of fourtie playes, fifteene moutings.

Mun.

Nay, I shall doe well in time.

Nod.

Gods me! you haue staind your cloake sir, how will you doe? I doubt the Gentleman that lent you it will be angry.

Ham.

Thinke you so sir?

Ant.

Well, there's no remedy, I must goe and relieue my Scholler.—Sir, a word in private, do you know that gentleman?

Nod.

Yes sir, I haue read Overburies Characters; he is a silly fellow in blacke, I take it.

Ant.

Well sir, how ever you dis-esteeme him, I could wish you would take heed of him; I wonder hee did not strike you all this while. Go to, I say no more, I hold him to be the stoutest man of his hands in all this side o'th countrey.

Nodd.

Is he so?

Ant.

Why he is sent for far and neere by the valiant of the Parishes, to play matches at football: I tell you hee is the onely Hammershin this Shire can boast of; not a Servingman can keep a legge or an arme whole for him, he ha's a pension from all the Surgeons within the compasse of fortie miles, for breaking of bones.

Nod.

Nay for my part sir, let him be as tall a man as he will, I doe not care a [...] for him, (doe you see) for I doe not meane to quarrell with him, onely I make account to jeere him a little.

Ant.

Well, take heed, say I.

Nod.

Nay sir, I'le take your counsell, I'le go and fetch my rapier I left within, and then let him doe his worst.

Ex. Nod.

Ant.

Follow him, follow him, the exalted mushroome— a whorson butterflie, he ha's nothing to jeere you for but your borrowed cloake and bootes; and I don't thinke but they bee your owne for all his talking.

Ham.

No indeed, to tell you the truth, I borrowed them of a Batchelour of our house, mine owne lye in limbo at a Barbers shop for Tobacco.

Ant.

But why dost not beat him man? Gods me! beat him.

Ham.

Nay, I would haue bin at him, but that I was afraid— [Page] They say many of 'em are very desperate fellowes.

Ant.

Faith, to doe them right, there be many of' um that haue run through the discipline of a Bawdy-house, & learnt to quarrell there, and haue seene the entrailes of a Fence-schoole too, and in one word are sufficiently valiant; but that proues not a generalitie. There are of them (I'le warrant you) as there are of your schollers, some that weare swords, only to scare fooles.

Ham.

Nay sir, I would haue you to know, that I am neither afraid of him, nor his sword: but I would not willingly die yet, if I could helpe it.

Ant.

Fear 't not man, thou shalt liue I warrant thee, to see thy good name buried before thee. Haue you nothing about you to strike him with?

Ham.

Yes, I haue the key of my study dore in my pocket.

Ant.

O nothing better then that, follow him, to him, to him.

Ham.

Shall I, i' faith? shall I?

Ant.

Never stand, shall I? shall I? but doe 't.

Ham.

Ne're goe, and so I will: Ile teach him to abuse any of our cloath againe.

Exit Ham. He whispers him.

Ant.

St, M^r Mungrell.

Mun.

As I'm a Gentleman, and an elder brother—

He runs after them offring to draw.

Loue.

But how now Anteros? what businesse is this?

Ant.

Can you but hold your peace, and follow them

With your sweet William? nay, but will you goe?

Ex. Loue. & William

You'l loose the banquet if not presently.

ACTVS 3. SCENA 3.

Anter. Endym. Pandora, Placenta.

Anter.

O, O. —

Would I could loose my selfe, become a Mouse,

Or flie, that I might find a cabbin here,

To hide my selfe from these same women. O, —

He climbes the tree.

But I will climbe this tree—

Pla.

I wonder much

Where our two loving friends should lye so close;

There's not a place where they doe use, but wee

Haue visited this morning. I doe long

To giue them this most pleasing spectacle:

But I will now search the Iustice his house,

[Page]Perchance they may be there.

Pan.

Endymion,

Exit Pla.

Another kisse; loe thus I will revenge

She kisses Endym.

My selfe on those two frozen Lovers; thus,

And thus, and thus — Revenge, how sweet thou art

Vnto a woman!

Ant.

O — I am afrayd

They will offend, commit, commit before mee.

Pan.

And canst thou loue me, sweet Endymion?

End.

Behold a tast what I can doe.

Pan.

These kisses

He kisses her Redit in scenā Pla.

Haue not that masculine rellish yet me thinks,

Which I enjoy'd in the manly embraces

Of Lucius, or Neander.

Plac.

It is strange,

Not one about this house that can instruct mee

What should become of them, I wonder at it;

But I am glad that Constantina's flight

Is not suspected yet, so well that Boy

Doe's personate her.

Pand.

Are they not there Placenta?

Pla.

St; No. O yes your Vncle is at home.

It will not yet bee dinner time this houre;

You may embrace another walke.

Pand.

Content;

Endymion, wil't please you t' accompany us?

Exeunt.

ACT. 3. SCEN. 4.

Anteros, Hooke, Mistris Vrsely.

Ant.

Why so then— What againe?

Hoo.

You'l leaue your blubbering, Minion, come your waies.

You set your minde on such a man? yet more?

You might as well bee in loue with that same Sunne,

And should as soone enjoy it.

Ant.

He speakes high,

Pray heavens hee does not looke so high, for feare

He should descrie me.

Vrse.

Father, I cannot last

Out two dayes longer without Anteros.

Ant.

How's that? now all my starres be mercifull!

It is a vision sure, this cannot bee.

Hoo.

Come, you'r a foolish girle, he marry you?

That day that hee does marry you, will I

Bring backe to life all that were dead before

The universall Deluge.

Ant.

Nay, Ile helpe

You with a farre better expression, sir,

[Page]That day that hee does marry her, shall you

Become an honest man; a harder Province

Then to bring all the dead, to life againe.

Hoo.

There are a hundred reasons (daughter) why

You should not hope it, first hee hates all women,

Next if he did not, you that are deform'd,

Lame, and mishapen, blacke, besides, ill manner'd.—

Ant.

(Hee does not see the wallet on her back.)

Haue the lest cause to hope.

Vrs.

But there are (father)

Sixe hundred reasons, why I should loue him.

His manly carriage, his full breasts, his hayre,

And his fine cloathes, his golden breeches, and—

Ant.

His traiterous nose: I, I, 'tis that I know,

'Tis like the Ivy-bush vnto a Taverne,

Which tells vs there is Wine within; but I

Will take an order with you Sir e're long,

And haue you par'd.

Vrs.

Well I will neuer leaue

My crying (that's resolu'd) vntill I see him.

Ant.

O! Could I commit a crime e're I was made,

'Gainst nature worthy such a punishment?

It is decreed, I will vnman my selfe, immediately.

Hoo.

What shall I doe? tis strange—

Well, 't must be so: I will goe seeke Terpander,

And mooue him to this match: most of his lands

I haue in mortgage, nay indeed they are

Forfeited to me, for the day is past

Wherein hee was bound to pay in the money,

The' advantage of this forfeiture, will I

Threaten to take, vnlesse hee does compell,

His sonne to take my daughter, to his wife.

Nay, rather then I will bee disappointed,

Hee for a portion, shall haue in his bonds,

Come daughter, bee of comfort, wee will goe

Directly to Terpander, where I'le vse

Such arguments, as shall enforce him make

His sonne both loue, and marry you.

Exeunt.

Ant.

Like enough.

'Tis very likely Sir, but that this tree

Does not afford any such fruit, I'd throw

He comes downe.

An old shooe after you,—such arguments

[Page]As shall enforce him make his sonne, both loue,

And marry you—well how his pills may worke

Which the old man, I know not: for my selfe

I will prouide a quicke deliuerance.

VVhy sheepheard? Stipes?

[tic toc:]

now I must, and will

Goe forward in this plot, of my disguise.

ACT. 3. SCE. 5.

Anteros. Loveall.

Love.

VVhat make you there?

Ant.

VVhy nothing Iacke.

Love.

Come on, you are a fine fellow, to go and set them together by the eares thus, are you not?

Ant.

But haue they done it finely?

Love.

Finely doe you call it? why your Scholler ha's so mauld Mr. Noddle with the key of his study dore, made such a breach in his Pericranium, that without question all his French ends haue taken their flight, through that passage; as for my cosen Mr. William, hee's crept into an old hole, behind the hangings, that in the dayes of old, h'as beene the Asylum, for decayed bootes, and shooes out of date, and there lyes hee, all alone, very melancholy.

Ant.

Ha, ha, he, but how was my Gentleman, and my elder brother imploy'd all this while?

Love.

As Gentlemen vse now adayes, in swearing; when he saw that hee could not draw his sword, hee ran vp and downe the roome, and measured out the time of the combat with oathes.

Ant.

Death! that I had but seene this.

Love.

VVould thou had'st: for I haue e'ene taken a surfer of them. I pray thee let's inuent some way, or other

For to bee rid of them, canst thou not thinke?

Thinke, thinke, man — thinke— which I'le effect, vnlesse

All that is called Fortune, doth forsake mee.

See'st thou that brace of Cabbins, on each side

My Vncle's house?

Ante.

They'r Dog-kennels I take it.

Lov.

They are, no more, but see they come, I'le slip

Aside lest I bee seene.

Ant.

I wonder what

His brayne is now so hot in travaile with.

[Page]

ACT. 3. SCE. 6.

Ant. Love. Wise. Noddle Empty, with his head, and face all bloody.

Ant.

How now?

Nod.

Lend mee your hankercher, if you haue one about you Cosen, mine ha's not a dry place in it.

Ant.

What doe you bleede Mr. Noddle?

Nod.

Yes Sir a little wild blood, hold that Cosen, vn peu Mounsieur.

Ant.

Did not you tell mee, all his French ends were gone? vn peu will not forsake him.

Love.

Not a word.

Nod.

A whorson cowardly slaue, to strike a man e're one was aware of him, and to giue one no time, to draw his rapier—

Ant.

S'me, 'tis somewhat deepe I doubt.

Nod.

Nothing by Hercules Sir, a scratch, a scratch, well I'le say nothing, but by this good blood, that runns—

Ant.

Faith if you had done as that good blood does, Mr. Noddle, it had beene better for you.

Nod.

No Sir, I scorne it, I am not of that straine i'faith, and that hee shall know, the sempiternall rascall.

Ant.

Come on Mr. Wiseacres, I belieue you and your Kinseman are much of a complexion.

Wise.

I am very melancholy at this time.

Ant.

I but you must take heed of these fits, they'l spoyle you, I heard say, that you crept into a priuate, retir'd roome e'ne now, and there convers'd with spiders and crickets, fye vpon it, you must labour against that humour; but indeed me thinks your Cosen is of a very deepe sanguine.

Wise.

Ha, he, you are such a witty man.

Nodd.

Cosen? Yes I am much beholding to my Cosen; I might haue beene kild for him.

Ant.

Come, come, I like him well for it, the Gentleman does weigh how much the Republ. might bee impeached, by the losse of a man.

Nodd.

Republi (que)? Repuddingpy. By this light, a man is little better then mad, that will keepe company with such snow-heapes, such white-liverd, counterfied lackdawes—but all's one.

Ant.

I, I betwixt friends, and kinsemen; ye two are all one I know. Your Cosen is very cholerick now.

Wise.

[Page]

I but I am very seldome so, for Albertus Magnus faith —

[Loveall as though he came from his Vncles.]

Lov.

Now the good Gods! where shall I find these most vnfortunate Gentlemen?

Ant.

Why how now Iacke? what inauspicious wind

Ha's rays'd this cloudy weather in thy face?

Love.

O Anteros, wee are vndone, vndone;

I'le haue this day weare black ith' Calender,

That after ages may beware of it,

It is so full of Omen —

Ant.

Whats the matter? I pray thee speake.

Hee faines to heare some body comming.

Lov.

O they bee here, — who's there?

Pray heauens it bee not the Constables officious industry: how will you doe Sir? You haue slaine the Scholler.

Nodd.

I would I had else.

Love.

Nay Sir, this is neither time nor place for such idle wishes, here ha's beene a Surgeon already, that liues hard by, and his sentence is, that hee cannot liue aboue two howers, hee swounded six times since you left him, it seemes you bruised him so with falling on him, with the hilt of your rapier, that hee bleeds inward — I know not what to say to it— I was bewitch'd I thinke, nay thinke, thinke, thinke what course you will take, you must bee suddaine, the officers are sent for to apprehend you.

Ant.

Is this in iest (I wonder) or in earnest?

Nodd.

Is he so indeed? I pray you tell mee true Sir.

Lov.

Why, what doe you take mee to bee Sir? haue I this for my loue, and care of your safety? as you sowed, so reape for mee; I hope you will belieue your owne sences, I thinke I see the officers comming.

Nodd.

'Sme! what shall I doe? Mr. Loveall, nay good Sir, I doe belieue you, I know not which way to take.

Love.

Nay there's no stirring that way, you'l meet them in the teeth.

Nodd.

What if I goe through the backe dore, and take horse?

Love.

They'l meet you that way too.

Nod.

Any thing, good Sir, I beseech you, looke the dore goes, I protest twenty Serieants could not haue strucke such a feare into me.

Love.

Well, will you trust your fortunes into my hands?

Nod.

And liues sweet Sir.

Loue.

[Page]

Quickly then enter heere, I'le shut you in untill the search bee past: nay will you in? who's there? immediately, good Master William.

He shuts Nod. into one of them.

Wise.

Nay sir, I'le go to my horse if there were twenty Constables, they haue nothing to doe with mee, for I am sure I did not strike a blow, no as I'm a living soule. —

Loue.

Gods mee, what will you doe? were not you in the company with him? that makes you accessary; haue you read so much law, and know not that? nay, will you in?— Ha, ha, he.

He puts him into the other.

ACT. 3. SCEN. 7.

Anteros, Loueall.

Loue.

What sai'st thou now my Anteros?

Ant.

What say I?

I say thou art an arch-dissembler,

A workman in the trade: By all that's good,

I should haue been thus gull'd my selfe, thou didst

So smoothely act it, with such passion,

And anger at their incredulitie.

I was afraid thou would'st haue beat the foole,

Because he would not let himselfe be gull'd

So soone as thou wouldst haue him, but stay now—

How shall we dresse our other brace?

Lou.

That province

Is yours; as for mine owne, you see I haue

Provided for them, and conveniently:

Yet if you will embrace my counsell, write

After the copie I haue set you, doe,

Behold a patterne, and see (happily)

A chest where Stipes in the dayes of old

Ha's kept tame Conies, now uninhabited.

Ant.

Right, but I feare, 'tis not capacious

Enough for both.

Lou.

'Tis nothing, looke you here,

See you that fine spruce new erected hogstie

On the other side of Stipes house?

Ant.

I doe.

Loue.

And doe you see it may be pinn'd without?

Hist, easily, softly, I'le fill up the time

They enter.

With some discourse, till you haue fram'd your count'nance.

[Page]

ACT. 3. SCEN. 8.

Love. Ante. M^r. Mung. Sir Hammer.

Ham.

Wu'd I might ne're stirre Mr. Mungrell, if I care a pin for a hundred such, an Inns oth' Court man quoth a? nere goe, I thinke they learne nothing there, but how to swagger, and bee proud.

Love.

Nay Sir, now I must chide you, will you accuse all, for the default of some particulars? by the same reason, I'le conclude, that all yee Schollers, are coxecombes, because I see one that is so.

Ham.

Meaning mee Sir?

Lov.

Meaning you Sir? pardon mee 'tis meere iniustice in you, I'le assure you Sir, this whole realme, yeelds not better qualified Gentlemen, and more gentilely parted, then many of them are, and to whom, the common weale is more indebted.

Ham.

Because hee has got a good suit of cloathes vpon his backe (I'le bee hang'd if they bee pay'd for yet) and a ring in 's band string, to play withall when he wants discourse, he thinkes hee may carry the ball on 's toe before him, and that no man must dare to meet him.

Love.

No more Scholler, you haue met with him sufficiently, why Anteros, when? and here's a braue Pylades too, that would not see his Orestes opprest by multitude.

[Hee claps him on the backe.]

Mun.

Arrest mee Sir? soft, and easily Sir, more words to a bargaine; s'duds! I thinke my sword be mortil'd into a snayle,

[Hee flyes backe and offers to draw]

I cannot entreate him out of his shell. Arrest mee Sir? As I'm a Gentleman, and an elder brother, I owe no man a farthing that I meane to pay him. Nay come Sir, I am flesh'd now i'saith.

Love.

You will not quarrell with your friends Sir, will you?

Mun.

Friends Sir? I know not whether you be my friend, or no; I am sure you vse no friendly language.

Love.

Pri'thee Scholler, tayle off Mr. Mungrell a little, hee'l never leaue now hee has drawne blood once.

Ham.

Come, you'r a foole; the Gentleman's of worth, and our friend.

Mung.

Nay I haue done now, I did but try how I could quarrell a little.

Lov.

Faith Sir, this would haue made a faire show in a Country Ale-house.

Mun.

[Page]

Nay Sir, as soone as my father dyes, (which will not bee long I hope, for hee lyes sicke now) I'le goe to Londorn, and learne to quarrell there, for a yeare or two, and then come downe againe, and practise amongst my Tenants.

Love.

Why Anteros; pray thee releiue mee.

Ant.

St, not a word, for a million of worlds. Harke you Scholler.

[Hee whispers with the Scholler.]

Mun.

I hope you are not angry?

Love.

Angry old Bully? hee had a hard heart, that would be angry with thee.

Ant.

'Tis as I tell you, his wound ha's beene search'd by a very skilfull Surgeon, and his Pia mater is found to be perished, and when that's gone, you know there is small hope.

Ham.

None at all Sir, I've read it in Magirus, Cozen Mungrell, come hither quickly —

Love.

Now, now, how greedily the Scholler sucks it in.

Mun.

What's the matter? but is this true?

Ant.

As true as you'r a Gentleman.

Love.

Hee never emptyed a buttry pot after a match at footeball, with greater appetite, then hee devours this gullery.

Ant.

Take heed what you doe, the least protraction is full of danger.

Ham.

O the Lord! what will become of vs?

Ant.

Loveall stirre the doore a little — passion O mee! there's some body at the dore, looke, looke, creepe into this chest, I'le shut you in.

He shuts vp the Scholler.

Ham.

Any where good Sir.

Mu.

Where will you hide me sir? I'le goe into the chest too.

Ham.

Here's hardly roome enough for my selfe.

Ante.

Stay, stay, stay. In good sooth Mr. Constable here's no such men this way— what say you, you three-penny cracke crowne? I tell you, they haue already taken horse. Here, here, here, creepe in, stoope man, stoope.

[He shuts Mun. into the hogsty.]

Love.

Ha, ha, he.

Why so, wee'r now at Liberty, farewell.

My sisters wrongs, and sorrowes call for mee,

And shall be answered.

Ant.

Well adiew sweet Sir.

Exit.

I must bee suddaine, or l'me lost for euer.

[tic. toc.]

By this time sure my father melts (why sheepherd.)

The ample benefit, that shall acrew

[Page]Vnto him by this worthy match, this instant

Arriues at 's weather-beaten apprehension;

(I doe but know it, am but sure of it)

O, what a dainty pleasant thing it is

For to bee free from care! to sleepe a night,

Without the dreaming of a Creditour,

Or the disturbance of that gobling Forfeit!

It cannot but be so, vpon my soule,

Hee trades in this same cogitation,

This very minute — Stipes. che ti venga l' cancro.

Well, if hee be aboue ground, I will find him,

Or loose my selfe, I'le seeke him in the pastures.

Exit.

Finis Actus tertij.

The Song, sung by two Trebles.

1. Treb.

But why

Doe the wing'd minutes flie

so fast away?

Stop your course yee hastie howers,

And sollicite all the powers

to let you stay.

For the earth could ne're shew forth

An object of a greater worth.

2. Treb.

But why

Doe the wing'd minutes flie

so fast away?

1. Treb.

It is because that they which follow,

Crowd on to haue a sight as well as they;

2. Treb.

Harke how the ghosts of passed moments groane,

'cause they are gone:

And rayle at Fate,

And curse the date

Of their short liues expir'd so soone.

Chor.

Then stop your course, you hastie howers,

And sollicit all the powers

to let you stay,

For the earth could ne're shew forth

An object of a greater worth.

[Page]

ACTVS 4. SCENA 1.Liuely solus.
Ha, ha, he,
I haue discovered more then e're Columbus,
Or our owne water-fowle, Drake: my pretty stripling,
Which I did take away from Stipes even now,
Is prov'd a woman, prov'd an errant Lady,
That is in quest after her errant Knight,
Who is enchanted. 'Tis the Neece (forsooth)
Of our good vertuous Iustice, Mr Hooke,
Who has put on this habit for to follow
Her lover Cleopes, who has forsooke her.
All this did shee confesse to mee in private,
'Soone as she saw I had descry'd her sex
And name; but I haue stayd her pilgrimage,
Shee's fast enough, I warrant her, i'th noose
Of wedlocke now, to stirre in haste. No sooner
Did I reade woman in her lookes, but straight
I did command my mayds for to unpage her,
And cooke her in her kind, in her owne sawce;
Shee's pickeld now in some three yards of lawne:
Here shee has it, and there shee has it, fie, fie.
Was I a young man now againe, and should
Venture on such a dish to carue, by'r Lady,
I should not know which side for to begin on:
Hardly distinguish breast from backe. Well, well,—
Beshrew my heart the queanes, where e're they had them,
Haue hung good rags about her; sure they borrow'd them.
This being done, I went unto Neander,
Told him, that I had got a Boy, and drest him
Fit for his palate: he rejoyc'd, made haste
Vnto the contract, and (as kind Fortune would)
That very time a good old merry Vicar
Of my acquaintance came to visite me.
I crav'd his ayd, and (in one word) I brought her
Vayl'd, but first softned by a thousand threatnings,
If shee but mov'd towards a discovery.
The good kinde Gentleman thinking her boy,
And therefore in his power when er'e he please
[Page]For to untie the knot, is before witnesse,
Contracted to her by the Vicar.— Oh for Lucius now.

ACT. 4. SCEN. 2.

Liuely, Lucius.

Liue.

See where hee comes; but yet how heavily!

How full of earth mee thinks his paces bee!

Hee lookes as though his teeth had playd this fortnight,

Kept Holyday. But I'le accost him.—Lucius.

Luc.

The Gods befriend thee, whosoe're thou art,

That I am thought worth naming yet, not lost

Vnto all mankinde quite, though to my selfe!

Liue.

These words doe savour of too much distractio'n.

You must take comfort sir.

Luc.

Who 's that dares talke

Of comfort to me? But once name the word

That is exil'd whole Nature? good M^r Liuely

Wast you that spoke?

Liue.

It was, and I must haue you

Remoue this same December from your lookes:

I come to make you happy.

Luc,

Thou art come

To loose thy labour then; I am below

Both all the loue, and all the spight of Fortune,

Shee will not make mee happy, and shee cannot

Make mee more wretched then I am. I lye,

Shee may doe both. But speake thou reverend head,

Has ought that 's good befallen my Neander,

That thou dar'st venture out that name of happy

So confidently upon me? —say.

Liue.

There has,

But more to you.

Luc.

What's that?

Liu.

Good, happinesse.

Luc.

How? happinesse to me? thou should'st haue put

The space of fifteene ages 'twixt those words,

They are so farre from reconciliation;

Thou hast no Grammar in thee, know'st no concord.

Liue.

But I haue Musicke in me, and that's better.

I'le make thee daunce my solitary one.

Pandora shall be thine to day.

Luc.

How? mine to day?

Liue.

Thy wife, thy selfe, but in another character.

Luc.

Vnspeak't againe, it must not be.

Liue.

It must.

Luc.

Doest thou intend to buy me to thee? and

To breake me and my fortunes with a courtesie,

Which I shall ne're be able to repay?

[Page]Imploy thy art then, all thy quicker plots

To further my Neander in his loue:

Who by how much the more his vertues be

Greater then mine (who hardly haue so much

As will redeeme me from the name of vicious)

So much the more will apprehend the benefit,

So much the more reward thee.

Liu.

Speak no further,

Pandora's thine, shee's thine, thine owne, beleeu't.

Hee is already married to another.

Luci.

I doe confesse that I am something fallen

Oft from that height of reason which before,

While I had libertie, I did enjoy:

But thou do'st wrong me much, if thou do'st thinke

That Loue has eaten up all man in mee.

I tell you, I doe know your plots, your drifts,

And all your consultations, as well

As if I had had a cabbin in your bosome,

And had from thence betrayd them; did not I

Heare when Neander did sollicite thee

For to procure a Masculine Bride for him?

Did not I heare thee promise him to doe it?

Hast thou not now perform'd it? are not they

By thy procurement now contracted? speake;

'Tis not so easie to deceiue the eyes

Of Loue, how e're our franticke Poets say

He feeds on nought but Lolium.

Liue.

Lucius,

As I doe hope to liue, as I doe prize

My lungs, my breath, laughter, and sacke, (beleeue me)

I haue Neander fast, hee 's married

To one that is as truely woman, as

Was she that did produce thee, and because

You shall be certaine of 't, 'tis Constantina.

Luc.

But canst thou utter this (without a blush?)

Or hath thy many yeeres

Block'd up those channels of thy blood, that now

They are not able to afford that face,

(That starved face of thine, bankrupt of vertue)

The least reliefe? but I'le undoe your plots.

Since you doe force me, I'le confesse a secret,

Which hitherto I'ue hardly whispered

[Page]Vnto my privat'st thoughts. I am no husband,

No husband (marke you) for Pandora, nor

For any woman living; for kind Nature

Has stamped Eunuch on mee from my cradle.

Liu.

What do I heare?

Luc.

That w^ch is true.

Li.

An Eunuch!

ACT. 4. SCEN. 3.

Liuely, Neander, Constantina velat â facie, Lucius.

Liue.

But see Neander comes with his new Bride.

Nean.

Why doe you weepe and sigh so boy? no more.

Luc.

Doe you heare that?

Nean.

But see my Lucius.

I must quite alter my discourse, my garbe,

And all my actions. Hence dull melancholly,

I now must finde a face that must out-smile

A morne in Iune. Lucius, a thousand hayles.

Constan.

Vnhappy Constantina! to whom Fate

Neither permits to liue, nor yet to die.

Liu.

Break off those sighs you peevish girle, or i'le — not yet?

Nean.

What meanes this strange and ponderous eye?

As though you were to take our Altitudes

Lucius? what? and doe you smile? faith speake.

How doest thou like my Choyce? perhaps you wonder

At this so sudden match; but (Friend) you see

What Love and a faire Gentlewoman can doe.

Liue.

I am the boldest wretch aliue. It cannot,

Cannot be long before he needs must know her.

What will become of thee then Liuely? ha?

You must be sure not to unvaile him Sir,

The boy would not be knowne.

Nean.

What muse you on

So deepely Lucius? does your first sonnes name

You shall beget on the most faire Pandora

Perplex you now? come on, I'le answer for you,

He shall be called Fortunate.

Luc.

Not so,

Rather that name belongs to you Neander,

That shall haue no such care to trouble you:

For if my art deceiues me not (faire creature

Your hand) this wife of yours is never likely

For to beare children, but on her backe, or armes.

Nean.

Why pray thee sweet?

Luc.

'Cause in this little vale

[Page]That lies at the foot of Venus mountaine, here,

I doe discover something too much for mother.

Come, come, Neander, these are poore devices,

Trickes of the Scene, and stale, they will not take.

And you gray haires, me thinks that thou shouldst owe

A greater and more filiall reverence

To the faire Ceremonies of the Church, then thus

To stalke with them, to make them stales unto

Such base ridiculous—

Liue.

Lucius, doe but heare.

Luc.

I will not heare thee.

Liue.

Here's a benefit

Plac'd most deservingly! I doe not like it.

Nean.

I do not apprehend him.

Luc.

A faire gowne

Indeed, and sope, and starch enough, to dazle

The eyes of some young countrey heire, that has

Never been drill'd through Drury lane, or Bloomsbury.

But 'pray thee (friend) whose daughter hast thou married?

What may she haue to name?

Nean.

What shall I answer?

I am i'th bryers.

Liue.

Tell him 'tis Constantina

Our Iustices Neece.

Nean.

Most excellent dissembler!

As though you know not Constantina sir.

Luc.

But is this Constantina?

Nea.

True.

Liu.

'Tis truer;

Somewhat then you doe beleeue it is.

Luc.

Is this

Iacke Loveall's sister?

Nean.

'Tis.

Luc.

But is this shee

Whom Cleopes once lov'd, and has forsaken?

Const.

O me! why doe I liue and heare that name?

Liue.

Did you not mark that sigh? how smartly't came?

No, no, I haue not fitted you, I haue not.

'Tis a young Roscius I tell you. No sooner

Was Cleopes nam'd, but the arch-villaine sigh'd,

As if it had been truely Constantina.

I doe not like this businesse yet.

Luc.

Is this

That cryed up wonder? that Fidelia?

A sodaine change.

ACT. 4. SCE. 4.

Placenta, Liuely, Lucius, Neander, Constantina.

Pla.

Yet at the last? 'tis well, I'le giue the word

Vnto Pandora: but with speciall care

[Page]That the boy knowes not of his Masters presence.

Liu.

What businesse is't that this same Midwifes face

Does fetch and carry thus about I wonder?

Hy, shee appeares againe.

Plac.

All health old man.

Liu.

Old? and how old? but what's the newes that you

Are rig'd with now? and whither bound I pray you?

Plac.

Next to that loving payre of friends, whose sorrowes

I haue lamented oft, and amongst which

I iudge it not the least, that while yee two

Discourse in sighes, and teares, that wanton mayde

That is the cause of all your heauinesse,

Lasciuiously does sport herselfe, and melts

In the embraces of an other.

Amb.

How?

Plac.

Regardles of your woes, or her owne honour.

Nean.

Now all the Gods! where is he?

Luc.

Woman speake,

What is hee for a man?

Plac.

I know him not,

So farre as to his name; but this mine eyes

Dare witnesse, tis a composition

Of blood and spirits not to be despis'd.

A feature able enough to tempt; besides—

Luc.

Neander, whil'st wee striue about the shaddow

Wee haue the substance ravish'd from vs.

Nean.

Ha?

It cannot bee, 'tas noe affinitie

With truth; It must not bee belieu'd good Lucius.

Plac.

Can yee retyre your selues vnder this tree

A little, and expect? but e're I goe,

Yee shall both promise as yee'r Gentlemen

To endure the sight with patience.

Amb.

Wee will.

Plac.

It is enough.

Luc.

But does this woman gull vs?

Exit Plac.

Or is it reall think'st thou?

Liu.

Harke.

Luc.

No more.

ACT. 4. SCE 5.

Placenta. Lucius. Pandora. Neander, Endymion. Liuely. Constantina

Plac.

Can yee belieue it yet? are your eyes yet

Instructed?

Luc.

Tis my boy Endymion,

Now hell and tortures!

Pan.

Were all odours lost,

And beggered Nature had not sweetes enough

T' embalme the dying Phoenix left, from hence

[Page]From this same lip, Shee might restore her selfe.

Nean.

Ah Lucius! must he not dye?

Luc.

Neander,

It is a sacriledge vnpardonable

To pluck him from that Altar.

Pan.

Once more sweet—

Two pendant Cherryes when some gentle gale

Makes them to kisse, meete not with such a touch!

[They both draw, and run at him, he saues himselfe behind Pandora.]

Luc.

Villaine, and Traytour dye.

End.

O me! my Master.—

Plac.

What doe you meane? ah.

Pan.

Alas.—Sweet Gentlemen.—

Shee layes hold on Neanders arme.

Luc.

Did all mankinde inhabit in that breast,

I'de put the Gods vnto a second trouble

For to create that species a new.

Nean.

Woman forbeare.

Liu.

I doe not like these tumults.

I'le get me home and drinke a cup of Sack.

Paud.

Neander,—

Lucius,—

Ah by that Monster of my loue, your friendship,

Lucius, by these eyes of mine, which thou

A thousand times and more hast dar'd to liken

Vnto the brighter starre of Venus, which

Is both the Prologue and the Epilogue

Vnto the glorious Sun: By thine owne eyes

Which are two clearer starres, I doe coniure thee

Forbeare to prosecute such a reuenge

Vpon this innocent Boy: for here I sweare

By all those blessed powers, which know our thoughts,

I neuer lou'd him.

Nean.

Most impudent woman,

Did not our eyes behold it?

Luc.

O Neander,

Why doe we stand thus coldly here? and not

How out a passage through this prostitute

To trauaile to the iust destruction

Of her base Louer, and my baser vassaile?

Pan.

Rather let all your fury end in me,

See here my naked brest imploy your valours:

Why doe you stand and gaze one on another?

What is the naked bosome of a Virgin

A spectacle of such terrour? if it be,

And that the fight of it hath cool'd your blouds,

Then heare me speake: you Lucius may remember

That ancient stock of loue, those many vowes,

[Page]Those many teares, those many longings, which

Haue past betwixt vs: nor can you iustly stile it

A fault of mine, that Time is now so old

And yet does see vs two; but partly yours

Partly my [...]athers neerenesse (for I must not

Giue it the name it merits, Couetousnesse)

Who seeing your so feruent loue vnto me,

Did striue to thrust me out with nothing, or

At least with such a portion, as you lik'd not;

Whilst thus I wauered, betwixt hope, and feare,

It fortun'd, that this Gentleman Neander

Became your Riuall▪ who had not long beene here,

Not long sollicited, but I (shame of women)

Began to loue yee both, and which is more

I lou'd yee with an equall flame, (but see

What Pageants Cupid can play!) it chanc'd

(Contrary to all mens expectations)

That by degrees such a strong tye of friendship

Did grow betwixt yee, that each of yee refus'd

(For his friends sake) what then was proferr'd you,

My loue; whilst I bewayl'd my miseries

Vnto this Midwife here, my friend, and grieu'd

At this my harder fortune—Good Placenta

Shee weepes.

Giue them the rest.

Plac.

Then take it in a word.

Supposing it the onely way to winne

One of you to her, I counsail'd her to faine

A loue vnto some other Gentleman.

Whilst we were busie in these Consultations,

As fortune would, your Page Endymion

Came hither (Lucius) to seeke his Master.

We lay the trayne for him, shee courts the Boy,

And he (poore Lad) thinking her serious

Was caught immediatly.

Luc.

But is this true?

Pan.

Would I could call it false—But otherwise

Then was expected hath it prospered.

Shee weepes.

Con.

Placenta, ah Placenta.

Pla.

Who's that calls me?

Con.

Shall I disclose my selfe? I am asham'd.

[They put vp their swords.]

Nean.

If it be so, Pandora, we craue pardon.

And doe restore him life; but now

(faire soule)

If thou do'st ayme to reach a life so happy

[Page]So full of all content, that thou may'st fit

Within thy Sphere (like Venus) and looke downe

On all thy Sex, and pitty them; loue this man.

Nean.

Loue this man. For as for my selfe I am

Already furnish'd with a Mistris, see

My wife here— Sweetest wife.

Pand.

Is this your wife?

I judge her happy who so e're shee is,

Luc.

Beleeue him not, this is Boy, a villaine

(Whom I, but that—)

Nean.

Lucius forbeare.

Luc.

Drest vp

In womans Cloathes by that same dotard Liuely.

Sweetest Neander leaue.

Nean.

It is a woman.

Luc.

By all the gods, it is a boy, 'tis false.

But for to rob you of all hope of mee

Giue me but care, I am an Eunuch, if

You can endure to haue a frozen statue,

Sleepe by your side, whilst you awake, recount

The tedious minutes of your widdowed nights

And sigh, and thinke, and thinke, and sigh againe,

Behold an husband for you, I am he.

Shee swonnes.

Pan.

O me! an Eunuch?

Plac.

Hold the Gentlewoman

Ay me! shee swonnes, sweetest Pandora, ah.

Luc.

What is the matter?

Plac.

Ah good Lucius helpe,

Shee's gone — alas good heart. What shall I doe?

Nean.

But see shee breathes againe.

Plac.

Ah hony sweet

Pandora speake.

Pan.

Ah!

Hands off thou out-side of a man; and thou

Ʋxorious creature, I doe craue no ayde

From you, forbeare.

Plac.

How doe's my sweetest hony?

Pan.

I am not well Placenta, let vs goe

Into your house a while.

Luc.

Please you faire Lady

To vse my seruice?

Pan.

How? Your seruice sir?

You can doe nothing, nor doe I expect it.

But if your loue towards me be worthy, lend mee

Your Page, but for an houre.

Luc.

Hee is yours.

Pan.

Then sir adiew.

Nean.

Shall I be vanquish'd thus

Plac.

In friendship? But I will once more to Liuely.

Plac.

And see what further counsell hee will giue mee,

Endym.

Faire wife let's goe—Rise vp you villaine boy;

Lucius farewell.

Luc.

What is he gone? so soone?

Exit.

To's Engineer I know, to his contriuer;

[Page]But I will follow them so fast, that not

A syllable shall passe without my Knowledge.

^*How now you Rascall? where are your eyes I wonder?

Exit.

ACT. 4. SCE. 6.

Stipes solus.

Stip.

In as a good a headpeece as yours, I warrant you that, for all your fine cloathes, Sands, I thinke my penny as good siluer as yours, euery day i'th weeke, I'le tell you but so.

A Mayde of eighteene, to play with babes-clouts, well, 'tis no matter, Let that passe though, goe to, goe to, 'tis an ill winde that blowes no body good, cry I, sure [...]rose o'th right side to day, I shall haue a seruant by and by, and a lusty Knaue too, and here's the chincke, the chincke; as I was getting this rod euen now, for my wise daughter, comes me Terpanders sonne, the angry boy, the smoaker of Tobacco, the whorson which could not endure his mother, S [...]nds I was afraid at first to see my selfe alone with him, he did so stare with'is rowling eyes, and 'twas no force by'r Lady, for I had fiue good shillings in my purse; But he to put me out of doubt salutes me most louingly, as thus, Stipes God saue you, Saue you Stipes — no, Stipes God saue you — Stipes be hang'd — a blockhead, Sd [...]nds J doubt I should make but a scuruie Gentleman, I want the trick ont.— But let that passe though, I haue the mony here, and presently, my man will come, which Anteros will send me, whom, if I haue not pay'd me euery morning my forty brace of legges and caps —no more.

ACT. 4. SCE. 7.

Anteros disguised.

Stipes.

Ant.

Why so, I me fairely accoutred, as becomes a Sheepheards seruant — But swig for see my Master. Here must I quite disrobe my selfe of all my former manners, garbe, behauiour, and put the plod o'th Cou [...]try on.—

Stip.

How now?

He whistles and dances:

What iolly whistler haue vve got here trow?

Hi, hi, a dancer too? I, I, by'r Lady

For ought I know, this is the man I spoke of,

[Page]Or else if not, here's one could wish hee were.

A sturdy knaue, a lusty proper knaue.

I like him well, he ha's a backe for burthens.

You Sirrah, you;

Ant.

What say you, you?

Stip.

I say whom doe you seeke here you?

Ant.

I seeke a Sheepheard you.

Stip.

I am a Sheepheard.

Ant.

But I seeke a Sheepheard, whose name is Stipes.

Stip.

I am the man you knaue, you come from Anteros?

Ant.

Yeas.

Stip.

To serue mee?

Ant.

Yeas.

Stip.

In good time, how now saucy Iacke? how now proud, prodigall knaue? where are your twenty legs vnto your Master? Goe to, Goe to, to worke, begin, well said. Anteros makes legs. 1.2.3.4 5 6. So, so, enough, I doe forgiue the rest. Turne you about, vm, vm, a good squat fellow, a well quarterd man, By'r Lady, and if hee had but moanes would make a pretty husband for my daughter Merda.

Ant.

Has he a daughter? and are there women here? o o o— O I am fallen from heauen into a Colepit!

Stip.

Why Merda, I say, my daughter Merda I say, the foolish girle's affrayd I know, go to, go to, I will forgiue her. Merda I say. But you Sir Squire'oth' dog, what is your name? Hy, which way looke you?

Ant.

My name is Ieoffry.

Stip.

I, I, how now? how Ieoffry? a hard name by'r Lady. why when?

Ant.

O I could creepe into a catskin purse,

Endure the sent of a Court-fardingall

For a concealement now.

ACT. 4. SCE. 8.

Merda. Stipes. Anteros.

Merd.

Good-hony-sweet-sugercandy Father, forgiue mee but this time, and if euer I doe so any more, I'le neuer bee seene neither byde, or hayre againe.

Stip.

Ho, ho, oho, ho a great lob, stand vp.

I doe forgiue you, but on this condition, that for your penance you shall weare this rod, stucke at your backe till night.

Mer.

With all my heart good Father sticke it on.

Stip.

So: how doest thou like my man Chuckin? goe to, looke on him well.

Merd.

Does hee come a wooing Father? if hee does, I'le [Page] run away, and make him beleeue I'me [...]oy.—

[She offers to run into the house. Hee puls her backe with his hooke.]

Stip.

Whither now you great baggage? You'l come againe? But stay am not I an old foole? an old dotardly foole, that haue not enquir'd what my man can doe yet? Ieoffry.—

Mer.

Is his name Ieoffry? Father, good father doe, pray you father let him dwell with vs, you know you promis'd me, that you would hire a man, and buy him a Cloake, that he might goe before mee as they doe before Gentlefolkes daughters, when my new gowne was made, I that you did, so marry did you.

Ant.

What haue wee now to doe?

Stip.

Peace and catch a mouse.

Mer.

There's claglocks [...]now 'ith house to make him a cloak Sweete—hony—sugar—comfit father let him.

Stip.

No more. Ieoffry, how now you sloutch? how doe you stand? Come hither, goe to, goe to, did you euer weare a cloake in your life? answer mee roundly.

Ant.

No not I, I can't tell how.

Stip.

Ah beggars brat! how now? but I must haue you learne, that you may man your young Mistris there sometimes. Come on let mee see how finely you can doe the feat, walke before her, follow him daughter.

[Hee walkes, Merda stayes behind, tying her shoe.]

Ant

Here's a sweet office!

Stip.

You great lobcocke you.

[Hee beats him.]

Ile teach you to looke behind you, to see whether your charge followes, or no, what? would you bee gadding without your charge?

Ant.

I, am I arriu'd at this?— whoffer did you strike one?

Stip.

Doe you prate too? looke you here, marke but mee, I haue seene the day, when I could haue stinged it before my sweet heart.—short and thicke cittizen like, you mankin, what? two acres breadth at a stride? I, I by'r Lady; Ile cut you short in smock-timber, for this minion; is your smock so wide, with a murren to you? short and thick cittizen like: how now?

ACT. 4. SCE. 9.

Stipes. Anteros. Merda. 2 Rusticall Seruants. two Mayds. Fidlers.

1. Rust.

Hy, strike vp braue boyes, hy, for our towne.

Stip.

Hy, for your towne say you? you are a company of lazy, [Page] lubberly knaues, there's the short and the long on't, ho, ho, boyes, ho, ho boyes? what drabs too? girles too? doxyes too? yee are a company of slowbackly Queanes, there's sauce for your eeles.

2. Rust.

Come Kate, croude on.

Ant.

O, O, the whole torrent of all woman kind is broke in vpon mee, what shall I doe?

Mer.

Cuds, cuds, these are Mr. Livelyes men and mayds, that are come to dance vpon the greene. Pray you Father let mee daunce with them.

Stip.

[...]ou daunce with them? you are a great princockly puplady; there's mustard for your biefe too, since you will needs haue it; 's [...]nds I haue beene a wit in my dayes, there's some reliques left yet, goe to, goe to.

1. Mayd.

Oh Stipes! I pray you let your daughter daunce with vs a little.

Stip.

Daunce with you? pray you vpsolue me this question, what holy day is this? Latter Lammas? or St. Ginnyes Even?

Rust. 1.

Come on braue Sheepheard, our Master ha [...] given vs leaue to trip it for an hower, or two, I'faith we haue had a wedding at our house to day.

Stip.

A wedding? a wedding? what wedding? vpsolue mee that question.

1. Rust.

Betweene a gentleman and a gentlewoman, but what care wee what they bee.

2. Mayd.

Come on old Grummelseedes, what must we stand thrumming of caps all day, vvaiting on your graue ignorance? by the faith of my body, either let your daughter daunce vvith vs, or I'le make your old bones rattle in your skin, I'le lead you a Coranto I'faith.

Ant.

An Amazon, by heauens an Amazon, a Penthiseleia.

Stip.

I, I by'r Lady? are you avis'd of that?

Mer.

Pray you forsooth, good-hony-sweete-plumpudding father, vvee'l haue but one spirt I'faith lavv; Sellengers round in sippits, or put on thy smocke on munday.

1 Rust.

But what flap-mouth'd fellow's that behind the tree there?

Ant.

Now comes my Cue.

Stip.

Who he? another gates fellow then you take him for, goe to, goe to, it is my man I tell you.

2. Rust.

But can bee daunce?

Stip.

Oh in print, he trips it like a fayry.

Ieoff [...]y.

Hy, hy, how now? what? tricks? how now?

2. Mayd.

How now young man? what so modest? come on, take mee by th' hand.

Mer.

Take mee Ieoffry. I'le daunce with our Ieoffry, or else I won't dance at all, no I won't, law you now.

Ant.

I can't dance.

Stip.

Hee's a lying knaue, I saw him my selfe; to him, to [Page] to him, frolick it nimbly whilst I come back; because 'tis his first day he shall haue leaue, my daughter too, for halfe an houre, no more. Go to, go to.

Exit Stipes.

ACT. 4. SCEN. 10.

Anteros, Merda, two Rusticall Servants, 2. Ancilla, Fidlers.

2 Rust.

But strike it out, we burne day-light.

Merd.

Ah the Lord! but where's our Ieoffrey?

1 Anc.

Cuds me! I doubt the great clowne's run away.

2 Anc.

Whoo! hee's got up into the tree there.

1 Rust.

Where? where? oh cuds wowkers & swowkers, I haue him by the leg: Robin, helpe here Robin.

Ant.

What a murren ayles you? can't you let one alone?

2 Rust.

Come, come, you must needs daunce, we want one.

Ant.

Can't daunce.

2 Anc.

Can't you daunce, my little shamefac'd one?

Can you kisse a pretty wench in a corner?

Ant.

Let one alone, I can't I tell you, I won't daunce.

1 Rust.

I but you shall sirrah, in spite of your teeth.

Ant.

Pish, 'won't daunce.

1 Anc.

Come Merda, you must entreat him, hee'l daunce with you I know.

Mer.

Prithee now Ieoffrey doe, prithee now good Ieoffrey doe, wu'd I might ne're stir law, if I don't make you a bisning posset, with a great lumpe of hony in't, when my father and mother bee gone to bed, if you will.

Ant.

Pish I can't daunce.

1 Rust.

Come let the great foole alone, wee'l dance our selues.

Mer.

Prithee now Ieoffrey.

Ant.

What shall I say? you'l laugh at one.

Mer.

Wu'd I was whipt if I doe.

1 Anc.

Besworne I won't.

2 Anc.

Nor I on my mayden-head.

Ant.

Come on then, since there is no remedy.

they daunce

2 Rust.

Hi, now every one kisse his marrow.

Ant.

I ne're was miserable 'till now

Merda wipes her mouth, and expects

Mer.

Ieoffrey, Ieoffrey.

2 Anc.

Why don't you kisse your marrow?

Ant.

I won't, I can't kisse.

1 Rust.

No can't? wee'l trie that: Robin, hold his tother arme fast: so, so, now Merda, now, well sayd, againe, againe; why so then.

They all laugh.

Ant.

[Page]

They liue in Paradise that thrash.

1 Anc.

Tihy.

2 Anc.

Tihy, Robin, come hither.

Ante.

Those happy Paracelsians are in heauen,

That trade by night i'th mineralls of the citie.

2 Anc.

What doe you meane to fight Merda?

Merd.

Ay-me—I forgot the rod.

They laugh.

1 Anc.

Fie, why doe you blush so Merda?

Shee throws it away.

Merd.

I don't blush, you are a lyer.

1 Russ.

Fie upon you Merda, a great mayden, and blush.

Merd.

Aw, but you lye though, I did not blush, I won't daunce no more with you.

2 Rust.

O by any meanes doe not forsake us yet, one daunce more; who was it that said shee blush'd? shee did not blush, I know she scornes to blush; come take your Ieoffrey by the hand againe.

Ant.

I'm weary, I can't daunce no more.

1 Rust.

Weary? faith I'de squiffe it; weary? about with it I say.

They daunce againe.

ACT. 4. SCE. 11.

Stipes, with two dead lambes vpon his hooke, & caeteri.

Sti.

O lazy varlets! is this a time to daunce? you idle persons; What will you leaue I say? looke heere I pray; doe's this same spectacle agree with turning on the toe, or capring? go to, go to, fie, fie, ah my sweet lambes, I dare bee sworne for you, yee thinke no body hurt at this instant. Come hither you my nimble skipper, upsolue me this question, what's your 'pinion must be done with these?

1 Rust.

Pish lets away, strike vp, Stipes adiew.

1 Anc.

Farewell Merda.

2 Anc.

And you my ninny pease-straw-wispe that cannot kisse.

2 Rust.

Stipes farewell, hey.

Exeunt.

Stip.

Stipes farewell? but Stipes cannot farewel, if his affaires goe thus quite arsy varsy; you whorson crab-fac'd lyzard, you left-leg'd rogue, what is there nothing else belongs unto this geare, thinke you, but onely to stare on them with your two sawcers of mustard? s'duds, either take them up quickly, and to worke about them, or Ile —

Stipes strikes him.

Ant.

This is the second time; this once I'le suffer:

[Page]But by yon pallace of the Gods I sweare,

Let him but once more touch me with the top

Of his least finger, and I'le ramme his truncke

Into the center: I haue said it.

Stip.

Are you muttering? you'l in with them, and dispatch them; goe you home too, my daughter Merda.

Merd.

Vm, vm, vm, you might haue let one daunce a little longer, so you might, so you might; I am not yet hote in my geares.

Exeunt Ant. Merda.

Stip.

Are you mumbling too? what my whole family turn'd rebels? s'duds—I promise you, I promise you, 'tis not my best course I see to beat my man thus often; a surly knaue by'r Lady, a surly knaue, a strong knaue too, I doe not like his lookes, he has a vineger countenance: but peace and catch a mouse, cry I.

ACTVS 4. SCENA 12.

Laurentio, Stipes.

Laur.

But see, I will enquire; honest man, a word.

Stip.

Honest man in your face, whosoe're owes you; 'sduds, haue I nothing to doe, but to prittle, prattle, with euery one I meet, thinke you?

Exit.

Lau.

What an unheard of rudenesse haue we here?

Are these the manners of the countrey? well.

This is the place, as I am told, wherein

That Lucius liues, who not long since prevayl'd

With his faire flattering speeches, for to haue

My sonne Endymion to be his Page.

But oh yee awfull powers!

I had no father in mee should I suffer

Mine onely sonne to lead a servile life

With one that is mine enemy, nay more,

The ruine and subversion of my family.

O daughter Isabella!

Whilst thy false Lover melts within the armes

Of his new purchac'd Mistris, thou (poore girle)

Embracest scorne and povertie, or else

(Which I doe rather wish were true) cold death.

But I doe heare,

Since my arrivall, of some Country people,

That they haue seene, some fortnight since or more,

[Page]A pretty boy, lingring about this village

Much about her stature, and complexion,

Which did enquire for a Gentleman

That was without a Page; this may be shee,

Who for the loue of Lucius, has put on

Some strange disguise. Whom cannot loue transforme?

ACTVS 4. SCENA 13.

Placenta, Laurentio, Pandora, Endymion.

Plac.

Ha, ha, he.

Whilst the poore flye does sport her selfe too long

About the amorous flame, she burnes her wings.

Her counterfeiting of a Loue, is now

Turn'd into earnest. Endymion's now the man

She sweares she loues; as for the other two

She has forgot their very names already.

Lau.

Does not this woman name my sonne?

Let me see, is not this Endymion? it is hee,

Enter Pand. Endymion.

And with him a fayre gentlewoman. Ha?

Pand.

But tell me dearest, did thy Master Lucius.

Once loue thy sister Isabella so,

Whom now he has forsaken?

End.

Yes.

Pan.

Behold

That treachery repayd him.

Lau.

See, they kisse.

Pla.

But what old Gentleman is this?

La.

I'le shew my selfe.

All health to this faire loving couple.

End.

O,—

Lau.

Why do'st thou flie me?

End.

'Tis my father,— father

God saue you.

Lau.

Dearest sonne, my best of blessings.

End.

How haue you done sir, since I saw you last?

Laur.

As well as one can doe that has departed

With's onely daughter.

End.

Why, is my sister dead?

Laur.

I know not that. But I am sure her credit,

The candor of her name is perished.

End.

Good sir, as how? Instruct me.

Lau.

Ah Endymion,

Since that most treacherous Lucius left the Citie

I haue not seene her, onely I heare of her,

But little to my comfort.—But no more,

I haue forgot her, and her folly both.

Prepare thy selfe (my sonne) immediatly,

To leaue this place and service; for thy fortunes

(How e're they were before, slender and poore)

[Page]Must not now see thee hold a trencher for

A better man then Lucius. Thy old vncle

As he liv'd well, in a seasonable age

Is gone into the graue, and by his will

Hath given to thee eight thousand pound, and three

Vnto thy sister, (though unworthy) what

Else he was worth in lands and goods, is mine.

Pla.

Pandora, kisse mee girle, kisse mee I say,

I haue deserued it, 'twas my invention,

My plot this (girle) th'art happy wench, th'art happy.

Pan.

Is this your father sweet?

End.

It is faire Mistris.

Sir, I congratulate our fortunes with you;

But if you doe desire to haue my joyes

Full and o'reflow their banks, grant me your leaue

To marry this faire Gentlewoman.

Laur.

Alas,

This is not in my power Endymion:

But if thou canst procure her friends consent—

Pan.

Sir feare not that, I will entreat my father.

Laur.

As for a portion, 'tis not thought upon

My son, if you be pleas'd.

End.

Sir, I am pleas'd,

Shee is to me most deare.

Pan.

Placenta, runne,

See if my father be within,—I know

Ex. Pla.

(Most worthy sir) that I shall win him to it.

Laur.

But canst thou tell no newes of Isabella,

Sweet son?

End.

No, none at all sir.

Lau.

Ah poore heart!

But 'tis no matter, I'le forget her quite.

Redit in scenam Plac.

Where is thy M^r Lucius?

End.

I know not.

Pla.

Your father's walk'd abroad with M^is. Vrsely

Your sister, but whither, there's none can tell me.

As yet the plot concerning Constantina

to herselfe.

Is not descri'd.

Pan.

Most reverend sir, wilt please you

To walke into the pastures, peradventure

There we shall meet my father.

Lau.

But I had rather

That I could compasse that same villaine Lucius,

That he might heare what he deserues.

Liuely runns in, Nean. following with his sword drawne.

Nean.

Villaine.

Live.

I am undone.

Pla.

Ah me! Neander with his naked sword!

Ple runne in heere.

Pan.

Ah!

End.

Let's away good father,

Exeunt.

[Page]

ACT. 4. SCEN. 14.

Neander, Liuely.

Nean.

O that thou hadst

As many liues as haires, that I might be

An age in killing thee, that I might score up

Each passing minute with a life: — But speake,

How durst thou thus abuse me?

Liu.

I did not know

Shee was a woman.

Nean.

No, didst thou not know it?

But thou shalt know thy selfe to be a man,

One that can dye.

Liu.

—O—O—

Nean.

How poore is this reuenge? hast thou any children,

Or kinsfolkes (speak) that I may kill them too?

Ha? wilt thou not answer? how durst thou offer this?

Liu.

Because I loued your friend Lucius

Better then you.

Nean.

Better then I? that word

Does merit death though thou hadst beene preseru'd

White from thy cradle to this houre.—

Doest thou loue Lucius? ha?

Liu.

Yes.

Nean.

Liue; no, no thou must not;

Thou might'st haue kil'd my father, broke the vrne

Wherein my mothers ashes sleepe, farre cheaper.

But for his sake, thus much I'le grant thee, chuse

The manner of thy death—shall I take off thy head?

Or hadst thou rather dye vpon the poynt?

Thinke quickly, nay be instant.

Liu.

Worthy Sir:

Let mee entreate some little space to pause

I haue not yet determin'd.

Nean.

Well thou hast it. But see that it bee speedy.

ACT. 4. SCEN. 15.

Laurentio, Lucius, Neander, Liuely.

Lau.

Most perfidious. Contemner of all goodnesse.—

Luc.

Excellent.

Nay forward, on, wee know you haue a tongue.

Nean.

Ha? is this Lucius?

Lau.

Where is my Isabella,

Whom thou hast loaden with disgrace? restore mee

Her honour (villaine) her good name.

Nean.

I must

Deferre my iust reuenge I see a little.

He must not know that I am angry, not

[Page]How I am gulld.

Laur.

Thou base unworthy man.

Luc.

Would you could raise your voyce a little sir,

You are not heard.

Laur.

Thou staine of all mankind.

Nean.

Thou owest thy life unto my Lucius.

I am not now at leasure for to kill thee.

Liu.

Nor I for to be kild for a trick I know.

Ex. Liuely.

Luc.

Are you drawne drie so quickly, M^r Lickthumbe?

Haue you no more good names in pickle for me?

Nay come ifaith, let's haue an other bout.

Nea.

But is he gone? he must not so escape me.

Ex. Nean.

Lau.

Where is my daughter? where is my daughter, rascall?

Ah Isabella.

Luc.

So: but Sir resolue mee,

Haue yee no Empericks? no Physitians

I'th Citty, that you thus doe send your mad men

Into the country to be cur'd? but Sir

I'le leaue you.

Laur.

But I will not so leaue you.

Luc.

You will not?

Lau.

No, I'le be a torment to thee.

Luc.

You will? but yet take heed that your ill language

Procures not me to turne Physician.

This sword of mine opens a veine but harshly,

Doe you heare.

Finis Actus quarti.

The Song.

Haue you a desire to see
The glorious heavens Epitome?
Or an abstract of the Spring?
Adonis garden? or a thing
Fuller of wonder, Natures shop display'd,
Hung with the choycest pieces she has made?
Here behold it open layd.

Or else would you blesse your eyes
With a type of paradise?
Or behold how Poets faine
Ioue to sit amidst his traine?
Or see (what made Acteon rue)
Diana 'mongst her Virgin crue?
Lift up your eyes and view.

[Page]

ACT. 5. SCEN. 1.

Stipes solus.

Why so then, now we are all alone. We? you great neare,

What haue you pig's in your belly? by'r Lady, If I wist

I had, I would not vnkennell this secret yet, well if there

Were hog's in my belly too, I see that it will out;

This mouth of mine was not cut out for secret's—

O wicked seruant! lewd daughter!

O Merda, Merda, thou hast lost thy selfe

For euer, thou hast defiled my house, my good name, my family. As I even now came from my sheepe, I found my daughter, at her nooning forsooth, fast a slepe vpon her bed, and there was shee (as shee vses often) campring to her selfe alone in her sleepe, 'scoursing to her selfe, but what was her 'scourse thinke you? Not about her huswifery; not how many hens were with egge, but fie vpon you Ieoffry are you not ashamed? O! Ah! fie vpon you Ieoffry are you not ashamed to touch one by the skinne? Ile tell my father (nere moue) if you will not bee quiet. I, I by'r Lady, worse then this, worse stuffe then this, what shall I say? without all doubt this left legd-rascall has dub'd mee Gran-father without Matrimony. But peace and catch a mouse cry I, some wiser then some, old birds will not be catch'd wi [...]h shaffe. I haue a trick in store if it will take, to be reueng'd sufficiently—no more. Ieoffry, Why Ieoffry.

ACT. 5. SCEN. 2.

Anteros, Stipes.

Ant.

What gaping knaue is that?

Stip.

How now Ieoffry? know you not mee Ieoffry? know you not mee? But let that passe though—I'le bee with you anon i'faith for all this geere. Come hither Left-legs, come hither. Peace and catch a mouse cry I. Did you euer when you were at your old Masters, learne to set a trap, Ieoffry?

Ant.

Yes a mouse trap.

Stip.

O sirrah, sirrah; but wee must haue to doe with other gates kind of cattell, I meane a fox trap Left-legs, come hither, come hither, looke you here, and learne, for this same night must [Page] I send you into the Pastures to inuite my fine Reynold to morrow to breake-fast, goe too, goe too, hee is something too familiar with my Lambs, marke you that left-legs? A little nigher I pray you. Helpe me to twist this Corde — Well said, be a faithful seruant Ieoffry. You know I haue a daughter Ieofry. Peace and catch a Mouse Ieoffry. You great dunder nose — Souds— You' [...]e lay both hands to work—A bots on you; you hang on my back to see you. Your tother hand in, and draw behind thus, thus looke you here.

[He gets his hands into the cordes, and on a suddaine tyes him too a tree.]

Ha, ha, he, foh. How ranke he smells? but 'tis no matter, I begin to grow old, and 'tis good (they say) Against the Palsey. Ha, ha, he, he, ho. You villaine, Hee loues

Mutton well, that dips his bread in'th wooll.
No lesse then your Masters daughter Left-legs?
Come on in troth, vpsolue me this question is she not tender?
 is she not delicate? a pretty morsell? does shee not rellish well? a pretty morsell? but I'le teach you sirrah to play the Mason, and lay your chips o'th rock where you're desired Left-legs, where you're desired. But I am something feeble through my age, And cannot longer hold out 'scourse with you,
Without my staff, without my supporter, sir,
I pray you doe not stirre till my returne,
But let me finde yeu here, I haue some businesse,
Goe to, goe to, I haue some businesse with you. Exit Stipes.

ACT. 5. SCE. 3.

Anteros, Loueall.

Ant.

Nay 'tis no matter I deserue it all,

Troth I doe hope that he will bast me soundly.

Beshrow his fingers if he does not, soundly.

I must be in my tricks, forsooth, my tricks:

Haue my devices, and my turnes, my changes.

Enter Loueall.

But torment of all torments! here comes Loueall.

Why this is worse then fiue and twenty beatings;

O that some greedy vndertaker of liues

Would giue me but a double Stiuer now

For mine, that I might cozen him. As sure

As Death, or Iustice Hookes deuouring pawes,

I shall be ieer'd to death, immediatly.

Loue.

[Page]

It is a strange darke melancholly this

That thus torments my Sister, I haue beene

An houre with her, and in all that time

Cannot perswade her troubled soule to forme

The least ayre shee breathes, into articulate language.

But stay what haue wee here?

Ant.

Now it begin's.

Lou.

A man tyed to a tree?

Ant.

I would your tongue

Was tyed as fast; then there was hope I might

Escape with life.

Lou.

What are you fellow, speake?

Ant.

You may goe looke, goe meddle with your owne.

Lou.

So angry 'pray thee? how came thy hands in morgage?

Shall I redeeme them?

Ant.

Redeeme your owne land's I pray you,

Let me alone or else I'le spurne yo u— yet

Hee knowes mee not.

Lou.

Sure I haue seene that face.

Ant.

O, O, O —

Lou.

Is 't hee or not, ha? Anteros.

Ant.

No more.

Death not a word.

Lou.

But heauen and earth man! how

Comes this to passe? What has begot this change?

Ant.

Wilt thou vnty me? I will tell thee all.

Lou.

But pray thee Anteros.—

Ant.

But pray thee Iack

Thou wilt vndoe me quite by thy delayes,

Wilt thou vndoe me?

Lou.

'Tis not a friendly part.

Ant.

Pox o' that ieast, as common as a woman,

Or her Synonomy; wilt thou vnty mee?

He vntyes him.

Lou.

'Tis done.

Ant.

Thou art my Patron Loueall, So.

But stay a while, I must desire your ayde

A little further.

Lou.

What has hee now in hand?

[He pulls off his Shepheards robes which were aboue his owne, pluckes Garters, Pumps, Roses, a Band out of his Pocket.]

Ant.

Can you become a peaceable man?

Lou.

How now?

A Snake, a Snake; hee's young againe, ha, ha, he.

What? Pinkes and Roses too? Why so, hee pluckes

Iune out of 's pocket.

Ant.

Can you be quiet yet?

Lou.

And Garters too?

Ant.

That slipper▪ tongue of yours

I doubt will spoyle all.

Lou.

What? and a band? so, so;

The vayle of Tempe's not so fresh, the picture,

[Page]The very picture of the Spring, when th' earth

Layes by her freeze-coate, and turnes Forrester.

Ant.

Thus far it prospers, once more your help sweet Iack,

Nay come, and take me that same rope againe,

And binde me as I was before, directly

In the same garbe you found me — Doe not stand

Gazing, but do 't.

Lou.

Thou art not mad I hope?

Ant.

If I be mad, I will not trouble you

For counsaile, nor for Physick; nay wilt thou come?

But hold a little, I must first borrow of you

Your Hat, and Sword.

[Hee lends him his hat and sword.]

Lou.

Which way this plot will looke

I know not— there— come let me see your hand's

Since you wil needs.

Ant.

Why now thou'rt right, thou'rt right,

Lou.

What will you haue me doe besides? come on,

Your legges too if you will.

Ant.

No more, St. harke.

The Sheepheards doore. Trouble vs not good Loueall.

Onely stand close and heare.

Lou.

What should this meane?

ACT. 5. SCEN. 4.

Stipes with a cudgell in his hand. Anteros. Loueall.

Stip.

Fie Ieoffry, are yeu not asham'd, to touch one by the skinne? My daughter denies all this most stifly but I will Ferret-claw my Lobcock i'faith. So, now I am arm'd. Goe to, goe to, come you knaue, where are you?

Lou.

Ha, ha, he.

Stip.

Ha? ha? ha? How now by'r Lady? How now? I, I by'r Lady? what's this? What's this? gaudy? gaudy? Fine cloathes? fine cloathes? Ha? has no body stole my eyes? let me be sure of that in the first place. Am I Stipes or not? ha? ha? ha? Is this our Ieoffry or not?

Ant.

Stipes, Stipes I say.

Stip.

This is another voyce an other face

Without all question this is Fayrie Ground;

My man is chang'd.

Lou.

ha, ha, he.

Ant.

St. Stip. hi, hi, hi. A sweard too? a sweard too? a whiniard too?

Ant.

Stipes.

Stip

Well I will venture to speake what ere come on 't, but stay, I'le first say o're the charme my Mother learnt me.

Beest thou deuill gentle, or beest thou deuill curst,

[Page]In the name of Saint Swithin doe thy worst.

There's sauce for your Ecles what e're you are. Now see if I cannot shape you an answere.

Ant.

Come nearer to mee.

Stip.

Are you auis'd of that? older and wiser, Soft fire makes sweet Mault, No hast to hang true men; come nearer quoth you? I am neare enough already for the good you'le doe me I doubt, Come nearer say you? No good M. Deuill I am very wel I thank you, goe to, come nearer when you haue a Sweard, a Twybill?

Ant.

My hands are bound man.

Lou.

What wil becom of this?

Ant.

St'. Stip. If your feet were bound too, I'le not trust you As long as you haue a Sweard by your side, a Whiniard.

Ant.

Do but heare me. Had not you a man to day call'd Ieoffry?

Stip.

Yes marry had I; what say you to that now? Nay I'le keepe my selfe out of your clouches I warrant you.

Ant.

But what's become of that same Ieoffry?

Stip.

Become? become? 'spose I spurd you an answere, and said I know not, what can you make of that now? make mee a horsenaile of that.

Ant.

Doe you desire to know?

Stip.

Yes marry doe I. Crack mee that nut now if you be a Gentleman Deuill.—

Ant.

I am that Ieoffry, but no seruant now

Of your's, but mine owne man: and am become

Since your departure, noble, rich, valiant,

Am form'd a new out of the Mint, —behold me.

And this great miracle Obron the Fayry King

Has wrought vpon me.

Stip.

Oberum? Oberum? you tell me strange things.

Ant.

But shal I tel thee stranger things thē these?

Stip.

'Spose you did.

Ant.

And such as shall be for thy benefit?—

Stip.

Would you would else. Nay stare on with your gogles till Barly comes to six pence a bushell. You know your wages, some wiser then some, cry I: I'le keepe farre enough off you: I'le tell you but so. Goe to, goe to, I am a crafty colt.

Ant.

You know I vvas your seruant to day.

Stip.

Well put the case.

Ant.

Poore, ill apparelled.

Stip.

Put the case the second time.

Ant.

But now you see how strangely altered.

Stip.

Well put the case againe.

Ant.

VVhat vvill you say now to the man that shall

Pet you into the same condition?

Recouer you from rag's and Russet, and

[Page]Dye you in scarlet: lick that rude lump your body

Into the shape, and garbe o'th court? or (once)

Make you a gentleman as I am now?

Would you not thanke him Stipes? ha? would you not thanke him?

Stip.

Thanke him Mr. Ieoffry? I, with all my heart.

Ant.

Set him at liberty then that will performe it. Quickly vnloose me?

[Hee vntyes him.]

Stip.

I, I by'r Lady? will you so Mr. Ieoffry? will you so? goe to, goe to, a gentleman? sayd you mee so? I con you thanke Mr. Ieoffry.

Ant.

So, now will I vnfold the mysterie.

But first you here shall promise mee that you

Will take noe prentises to learne your trade,

When I haue taught you the art; you will impouerish

The herald's office, and forestall his market.

Stip.

No truely Mr. Ieoffry.

Ant.

I am satisfied;

Seest thou that tree? 'twas made for thy aduancement.

Giue mee thy hands that I may tye them quickly.

Stip.

Are you avis'd o' that?

Ant.

What doe you meane?

You'le bee preuented by another—death!

Yonder comes one will be before you—quickly

There's such a vertue (man) in this same tree,

That who-soere is bound vnto it, shall

Bee turn'd immediately to a gentleman.

Nay come.

Stip.

but is this true?

Ant.

beleeue your eyes.

Heart of my father, man! youle bee preuented.

Stip.

A gentleman? sayd you me so? goe to, goe to,

[He tyes Stipes to the tree.]

Good Master Ieoffry quickly—so but stay. When I'me a gentleman may I not vse, my old trade of sheepherd still? I would not leaue it.

Ant.

O, and inclose; 'tis all in fashion.

Stip.

I, I, by'r Lady? thats well, but stay againe.

Ant.

Nay you are like to stay now, I haue you fast enough

Stip.

'Sduds, if thou be'st a good coniurer make me a knight to. I haue a pestilent itch after a knighthood.

Ant.

You must take gentleman first 'ith way.

Stip.

Let mee skip gentleman good Mr. Ieoffry, 'duds

I know knights in this countrey that neuer were

Gentlemen—but vpsolue me this question? can you make

My daughter Merda a gentleman too?

Ant.

A gentlewoman

[Page] Stipes I can.

Stip.

I, I, so I meant it— Merda, Merda,

A bots on you, Merda, are you dreaming againe?

Ant.

O for some nimble pated fellow now

To make an Ob'ron of.

Lou.

Ile furnish thee.

There is a notable witty bedlam begging

At our back gate iust now. I'le fetch him to thee.

Ant.

If thou do'st loue mee, doe.—

Exit Loueall.

Stip.

Why Merda, you'l come when your nowne father cals?

ACT. 5. SCE. 5.

Merda. Stipes. Anteros. Loveall. A Bedlam.

Merda.

What doe you say Father forsooth?

Stip.

That 's a good girle. Nay shee 's towardly enough, shee' [...] quickly learne. Why doe you stare so on Mr. Ieoffry?

Merd.

What man is this Father?

Stip.

Come you'r a foole, let that man alone. Wee shall bee gentlefolkes ourselues my chucken, giue him your hands to ty I say, be obedient.

Thou presently shalt see thine owne sweet father,

As fine as hee, and thou my litle Sweet-lipp's

Shalt be a gentlewoman too, goe to, good Ieoffry tye her hands.

Ant.

How Ieoffry?

Sti.

Good Mr. Ieoffry.

Ant.

That's another thing.

Mer.

Father forsooth shall I haue as fine cloth's on as Mistris V [...]sly forsooth?

Stip.

O! she's halfe turn'd already: forsooth and a curtsey at euery word; Mrs. Vrsely? thou shalt put Mrs. Ʋrsly into a pint pot.

Merd.

O the Lord! pray you forsooth Sir who soe're you are doe mee quickly forsooth.

Ant.

But here 's not rope enough.

Stip.

Take off your garter quickly you Maukin you.

Mer.

Here forsooth. And father, must I take place of my mother when I'm a Gentlewoman?

Ant.

Good.

Stip.

Marry shalt thou goldy locks, and be a Lady, and contemne her.

Call her the good old country woman too.

Ant.

Stipes, but one word more and then I'le leaue you

Vnto your new creation—haue you nothing

Within your house to couer you? the crowes

Perhaps may bee too impudent and saucy

With you, and now you can not helpe your selfe you know.

Stip.

[Page]

I, I by'r Lady? 'twas well thought vpon,

Good Mr. Ieoffry step into my house,

He goes out and returnes presently with a long gray cloak.

You there shall finde my cloake, vse that.

Ant.

'Tis of a swooping cut, but new be sure

You doe not speake a word what noise so ere

You chance to heare, perhaps the fairy King

Will take some pawse, study a while, consult

With his Queene Mab about you how to polish

And frame you of a purer shape then ordinary.

Doe you marke that? St, not a word good Stipes.

Stip

Ah sweet Mr. Ieoffry.

[Enter Loueall with a Bedlam.]

Ant.

Peace and catch a mouse cry I.

Love.

Come on braue Tom, come on braue Tom, Remember your instructions Tom.

Bedl.

Let braue Tom alone. Let braue Tome alone.

Ant.

A most authentick rogue, how he does stretch it? paratragoediate?

Bedlam sings.

Newly from a poach'd Trade, and

A broyl a Viper, King of Fayry land

I Ob'ron doe arise, to see

What mortall Fortune here hath tyed vnto my sacred Tree.

Stip.

O Mr. Ieoffry, is that Ob'rum? Pray you let me see him.

[Ant lifts vp the cloake and Stipes sees him.]

Is this Obrum? 'sduds, hee is but poorely parrelled himselfe me thinkes.

Ant.

St. Stip. Peace and catch a mouse cry I, but once more good Mr. Ieoffry. Let me haue but

Ant lifts vp the cloake againe.

one sight more of him. Mr. Ieoffry does hee vse to giue away his cloathes when hee makes gentlefolkes? 'sduds I doubt he has none left for me.

Ant.

What doe you meane?

Stip.

Peace and catch a mouse cry I.

Mer.

Good father let mee see Obrum too [...]ah, hee has a horne like a Tom of Bedlam.

Stip.

Peace, I wu'd not for the best cow in my yard that he should heare thee.

Bedlam sings.

Beest thou ruder then was e're

The halfe excrement of a Beare,

Or rougher then the Northerne winde

Cam'st thou of a Satyres kind.

Be whatsoeuer thou can'st be

So thou shalt remaine for mee.

Ant.

Did you heare that Stipes?

Stip:

I, good Master [Page] Ieoffry, stand farther you great baggage and make roome for your rathers' proaching greatnesse.

Ant.

But see my father,

Loveall.

'Pray thee conuey away the Bedlam any whether, carry him into your house againe and shoote him out at the back dore.

Love.

Anteros, I'le leaue you to your busines. I'le in and fetch an other hat. Come bra [...]e Tom. 'Bed, Let braue Tom alone.

[Ex. Lou. & Bedlam.]

Ant.

The Iustice too, 'tis so. Now am I hunted for about a wedding.

ACT. 5. SCE. 6.

Iustice Hooke, Terpander, Anteros Mrs. Vrsly.

Hooke.

Terpander, you haue heard how much this match

May both concerne you and your Sonne, your fortunes:

The greater part of your inheritance

You know is mortgag'd to mee, nay

(Ile tell you)

If I would vse that rigour of the law

'Tis forfeited and past recouery;

Thinke therefore quickly, if you would be free

From all those cares and troubles which afflict

Such as do liue in debt, compell your Son

To marry this my daughter.

Ant.

I am a witch,

A witch, a witch a rancke, starke stinking witch.

Hooke.

It is an ample dowrie I confesse,

And litle 'tis agreeing to my nature

To buy a husband at so deare a rate,

But I haue something that sounds father in mee;

And must not loose a daughter, if there bee

A remedy in nature. True it is,

That (by what angry Deity I know not)

Shee has so fixt her loue vpon your Son,

That I doe thinke naught but a quick fruition

Can rescue her from a death.

Ter.

Good Iustice Hooke,

I doe confesse your offer's fayre, and would

Accept it willingly, but that—

Hooke.

But what?

Ter.

I feare my Son will not agree vnto 't.

Ant.

Sir had you ta'ne an oath vpon the same

I would haue borne your sin, had you beene periur'd.

Ter.

You know he hates all women.

Hooke.

very good.

Is he not your's, and vnder your command?

Wee fathers make our children refractory,

By being too indulgent over them;

[Page]Besides, I am perswaded that his vertues

Will not permit him for to contradict

Th' authority of a father.

Ant.

O ye Gods!

Can ye permit this Villaine to profane

The sacred name of Vertue thus, who himselfe

Is nothing elss but a meere heape of vices?

Ter.

I ever yet found him obedient,

Nor doe I doubt to win him now: how ever,

I am resolv'd if he in this shall crosse me,

I'le disinherit him immediatly.

Ant.

I? is it come to that already? well

Prepare thy selfe now Anteros for th' encounter.

Hooke,

But see your sonne. Tis your best course at first

T' accost him gently.

Ter.

How now my son? how fare you?

Ant.

I am not well sir.

Ter.

How not well? your colour

Does not proclaime you very sicke, but say.

Ant.

Ther's something in my eyes that troubles me.

Ter.

What's that?

Ant.

A mote, a woman.

Ter.

After the old fashiō still?

Come on my son, I haue bin seeking of you,

And peradventure you may guesse the cause.

Ant.

I would I could not.

Hooke.

Hold up your head my daughter

And summon your best lookes into your face.

Ter.

As I did walke even now into my pasture,

I did begin to thinke.

Ant.

That I was old,

That must be next.

Ter.

That now I'me strucke in yeares.

Ant.

Good, strucke in yeares;

And could he not as frugally have dispatcht it

In that one word of old?

Ter:

And —

Ant:

That it will be a comfortable sight

To see you marryed before I dye.

Ter:

That it will be a comfortable sight

To see you marryed before my death.

Ant:

I told you so, it is the common roade

Which they all use when they would pin a wife

Vpon the son. I wonder all this while

The staffe of's age, propp of his family

Did not come in.

Ter:

Whilest I was thinking thus,

Old justice Hooke, a Gentleman of rancke,

And of a family not to be despis'd,

Came to me with his daughter, and desir'd

[Page]Our friendship and affinitie; and to be briefe,

We haue concluded 'twixt yee two a marriage,

Which must be present; as for the portion,

H'as promis'd in the wedding fire to sacrifice

The Bonds wherein our Lands stand forfeited.

A thing beyond my hopes, or your deserts.

Ant.

A pox upon that thumbe under the girdle,

There 's mischiefe ever toward's: I never knew

One of that garbe that prov'd an honest man.

'Tis the graue cheating posture of the citie.

Ter.

What's that you mutter to your selfe? come speake.

Ant.

I am contented sir.

Ter.

Well said my son.

Ant.

But upon this condition, that it shall

Be lawfull too for me to sacrifice

Vnto the aforesaid fire a certaine trifle

Of mine.

Ho.

Whats that?

An [...].

My wife, & your faire daughter.

Ter.

Out on you traytor.

Ant.

Sir, by yea and nay

It cannot be afforded cheaper.

Hoo.

Wretch

And profane person.

Ter.

Sai'st thou so thou villaine?

Hast thou no more regard into thy father,

Nor to his shipwrackt fortun, that thou thus▪

Doest studie his undoing plot his [...]?

Ant.

But father, if I marry her to day,

When must the wooing be? to morrow sir?

Hoo.

Thou shalt not need to wooe her Anteros,

Shee is thine owne already.

Ant.

Is shee so?

Would you was hang'd sir for the nowes.

Ter.

Pish, dome,

I will not spend an article of ayre

Vpon him more — good M^r Hooke lets goe,

The following houre shall see him no son of mine.

Hoo.

O, mildly sir.

Ant.

It is determined

By all the starres, they haue consulted, plotted

To make me miserable.

Hoo.

Come Terpander,

You are too harsh with him, I know your sonne

Does more esteeme of Vertue and Religion —

Ant.

Good Master Sucriledge, a word in private:

(A little farther, yet a little farther)

How came you by that strange exotick word

You us'd but now? had you'r on interest?

Or was it lent you gra [...] of a friend?

Hoo.

[Page]

What word good Anteros?

Ant.

Religion,

For I am sure yet thou never hadst,

Nor ever wilt haue any of thine owne.

Hoo.

O profane person!

Ter.

This once I speake it.

Wilt haue his daughter?

Ant.

What shall I answer him?

I shall be dis-inherited that's certaine.

Ter.

He melts, M^r Hooke, hee melts, I feele him comming.

Hee is our owne.

Ant.

But why so suddenly?

Good sir, at least giue me some time to think.

Ter.

Never hope it.

Ant.

But why sir to day?

Ter.

Because it pleaseth him it most concernes.

Ant.

Doe but deferr it till to morrow sir,

(Could I obtaine but this request, I was happy,

aside.

I'de keepe to morrow in another world)

Ter.

Vntill to morrow? not for an houre: I know

Your disposition sonne too well for that.

I haue you now, but where you'l be next day,

Hee 's wiser then your father that does know.

Ant.

But father, I beseech you heare.

Ter.

But son

I will not heare, I tell you. Master Hooke,

You here doe giue your daughter?

Hoo.

Willingly.

Anteros, receiue thy loving wife.

Ter.

How now?

You will not urge me?—goe too, doe not doe it.

Ant.

O that mine armes are now at libertie!

O Stipes, happiest man aliue, thou hast

No hands to make a contract, —is there never

A Mouse-hole hereabouts to creepe into?

But stay a while, my paper portion.

The writings.

Hoo.

Take them.

Ant.

You'r an honest man.

[He giues them him, & Ant. teares thē in pieces.]

Tis right.

Hoo.

Now take your wife.

Ant.

I wish you a Barber sir.

Is that faire Edifice yours?

Hoo.

It is my sonne.

Ant.

Gooder and gooder still; my son? then take

My counsell sir, go to your house and purge,

You will be mad else presently; prevent

The current of the humour, for I see

(With that poore little reading which I haue

I'th volume of man) by your distempered looks,

That some strange deepe, and conquering Melancholy

[Page]E're long will seize you: why doe you follow me

Thus with your braided ware? nay never frowne,

Good M^r Iustice, let's haue no Warrants made,

Nor Mittimusses with your distorted lookes;

Wee haue a forehead too, and can looke grim,

And make as ugly and prodigious faces,

As the most ignorant Iustice of you all.

But shall I tell you (sweet M^r Velvet-hose)

What I will doe, because you were so kind,

For to deliuer in the Bonds for nothing?

Nay sir, I must transplant these thumbes, before

I can resolue you: so.—Thou 'rt a damn'd rascall,

And I will cut that throat of thine (doe you marke?)

And when I'ue done, will fillip that morsell, woman,

On an embassage to my Hawkes, no more;

By heauens I'le do 't.

Hoo.

Oh Traytor, Miscreant,

Daughter take heed; Terpander, O Terpander,

He threatens me to cut my throat.

Ter.

How's that?

Ant.

Sir, you must pardon him, the man is mad.

Hoo.

He sweares he will make hawkesmeat of my daughter.

Ant.

On my virginitie sir, he does me wrong;

I did not charge a syllable upon him,

But fell as coolely from me as a dew.

Vpon a drooping field; each word I vented

VVas steep'd in an hony-combe. I did but bid him

In a plaine, civill dialect to provide

An other husband for his daughter: for

I doubted that I should not be at leasure

This brace or two of yeeres to marry her.

And I may tell you sir, indeed I cannot.

Hoo.

O, O, am undone, cheated and gull'd, undone,

Villaine I'le bind thee to thy good behaviour.

Ant.

I would you could sir, I would thank you for't:

But fie M. Hooke, a head of that silver dye,

A beard of such an honourable length,

For to bee gull'd? and so egregiously?

By a young man with ne're a haire o'ns face?

Ter.

Come sonne, I doe not like these courses, nor

Doe they become a Gentleman, I'le not haue

That contumely dwell on our family,

[Page]That we should use such indirect proceedings

For to reedifie our tottering fortunes.

By all the Magicke in the name of Father

I doe conjure thee; by this aged head,

And these gray hayres, by thy dead Mothers Vrne,

By all her cares and feares, by what is dearest

Vnto thy soule, I charge thee, take his daughter.

Ant.

Without all question I am the first, the first

That ever pietie has made miserable.

Well Master Hooke, you see what may be done,

VVhat angry spirits a man may lay, while he

Does stand secure within the circle of father.

Your daughter I will haue; onely know this,

There is another thing which belongs to her,

Which I must haue too, that's the Parsonage;

'Twas ever yet allotted for her portion,

And I expect my right.

Hoo.

How? woe is me,

I am undone.

Ant.

Before I stretch forth a paw

Towards her, i'le haue it.

Vrs.

Father, good father let him,

He will go back from's word els.

Ho.

Well, he shall haue it.

Hold: by the vertue of this writing, it

Is lawfull for you (after old Liuelyes death)

For to present the first Fy, fy, fy, fy.

I had this drawne (alas) for another end.

Ant.

My law does tell mee it will doe. Come on,

Since there's no remedy, let's even to't.

Yes hangman, I forgiue thee heartily,

'Tis but thy office.

Hoo.

Come Terpander, we

VVill keepe the wedding, at my house, but heare you?

The cost and charges shall be yours.

Ter.

Agreed,

Most willingly. Follow me sonne and daughter.

[She fits downe, & puls stones out of her pocket]

Vrse.

Come husband Anteros, will you play at chackstones

VVith me?

Ant.

Follow, follow, follow, follow,

I will bee there immediatly: nay goe.

ACT. 5. SCEN. 7.

Anteros, Stipes, Merda ad arborem,

Ante.

So, I haue made a fine dayes worke of this:—

Well, there's no remedy, it must be so.

[Page]But I must take my leaue in forme: Farewell

Yee chimney gods, protectours of our family;

Stipes.

Stip.

A bott's vpon you, that same tongue

Of yours must needs be wagging.

Mer.

Indeed Father

I did not speake a word, no that I did not.

Stip.

Wee must begin againe now for your tatling,

Did not the Gentleman command vs silence?

Ant.

Stipes adiew, I am exceeding sorry

I cannot stay to see you a Gentleman.

Spruce M. Noddle, euen adiew to you.

Good M. Mungrell, kinde Sir Hammershin.

Sweet M. William, I am Melancholly

To part with you as I am a liuing saule.

ACT. 5. SCE. 8.

Anteros. Loueall.

Lou.

Why whether in such hast?

Ant.

To banishment.

My name is written in the oyster shell;

I am too happy in a wife Iack Loueall,

My fellow Cittizens doe enuie me.

Farewell.

Lou.

In troth I thanke you hartily,

I hope you'l first deliuer back againe

My Sword and Hatt.

Ant.

By my best wishes Iack

I thought not of them; 'pray thee take them to thee.

Lou.

I will take thee my little Cupid-whipper.

You must not goe.

Ant.

Let me alone good Loueall,

Doest thou not heare how with an euen gale

That Southwest winde murmers amongst the trees?

Within these foure and twenty houres I may

Touch on the Belgick shore.

Lou.

The Belgick shore?

What wilt thou doe there man?

Ant.

I'le traile a pike,

Turne Lanceprezado, or Bedee, or any thing

To patch vp a wretched life.

Lou.

You'l turne a coxcombe.

Ant.

I neuer shall endure to liue a husband

The very name of wife will turne my stomack.

I shall haue threescore vomits in a day.

Lou.

What wilt thou say now Anteros if I set thee

As free from this same marriage, as the childe

Which ten moneths since was but an Embryo?

Ant.

Thou canst not.

Lou.

I can doe it, feare it not.

Ant.

[Page]

Thou canst nor man, 'tis past recouery.

Lou.

What wilt thou giue me if I doe effect it?

Ant.

Giue thee? I'le sacrifice my selfe vnto thee

My Iupiter, build vp a Temple for thee

Shall take the heauens from Atlas shoulders, and

Giue him a Iubile for euer—Speake.

Hee shall be at leasure all the rest of's life,

For to catch Butterflies— But you doe mock mee,

Farewell.

Lou.

But stay.

Ant.

Doe but effect it Iack.

And I will straight make warre vpon the Turke,

Giue thee his Diademe and Scepter — Speake.

The Persian shall be the Master of thy Horse,

The Germane I will make thy cup-bearer.

Lou.

Ha, ha, he. And so I shall haue all my drink drunk vp,

Thank you for that.

Ant.

Nay wilt thou speake, or else

Let me be gone. — The Dukes of Italy

Shall be thy footboyes.

Lou.

Here's a braue promiser!

Why this out does the Court; but do'st thou heare?

How wilt thou doe all this?

Ant.

Nay 'troth I know not,

But I will doe it, and let that suffice.

Lou.

Well then be silent. — Placenta the Shepheards wife

Soone as she heard a marriage was in motion

Betwixt my Kinswoman and your selfe, came running

To me in hast, and cry'd what doe they meane?

It is not fit, nor can it be (vnlesse

That they will violate the lawes of Nature)

That Anteros should haue this Gentlewoman;

I aske the cause, the Midwife answereth

Because she is his Sister.

Ant.

How? my Sister?

Lou.

And is it possible that this is true?

Lou.

True.

Ant.

Stay.

Lo.

Nay wil you heare with patience?

Or else—

Ant.

as silent as a midnight minute,

Or else a Counsellour without a fee,

I'le stand and heare, and suck it in, and —

Lou.

Yet?

Ant.

I'ue done.

Lou.

Then heare; it seem's that Dorothaea

My Vncles wife, some seuenteene yeares agoe

Supposing shee had beene with childe, prouided

Such necessaries for her, as a woman

That is in her estate might stand in neede of;

'Twas fam'd about the Country: but at last

[Page]She found her selfe deluded by a tympany,

But fearing lest she should prove the table talke o'th countrey,

Takes counsell with Placenta for to faigne

A birth, and to that ende employeth her

(Being a Midwife) to procure for money,

The Childe of some poore woman new deliver'd.

At the same time it fortun'd Anteros

That your mother cryed for Innos helpe,

Which she obtayned, and was deliver'd

Of this your Sister, whom when she perceiv'd

To be deformed, and distort; at length

She was or'ecome by th' Midwife for to part

With her new purchac'd Infant, t'was agreed,

And the birth straight given out to be abortive,

And which is more, beleev'd, and for to colour

The matter o're the better, they did bury

An empty coffin. In the meane time your sister

Was secretly convey'd vnto my Aunt,

VVho presently did faigne to be in travaile,

And was deliver'd in conceit of Her,

VVho but a while agoe vvas call'd your wife.

T'was not long after, but the brace of mothers

Did travaile both together to the dead,

And left my vncle a supposed daughter.

You have the history.

Ant.

And with it heaven,

And immortality: O Loveall, Loveall;

By all the Deityes I could embrace thee

For this thy happy newes, wer't thou a vvoman.

Love.

But whats become of all your promises?

Ant.

O tis a taste, a spice of greatnesse, Iacke,

To promise.

Loue.

And to performe iust nothing.

Ant.

You doe not heare me say so. VVhat's the matter?

ACTVS 5. SCENA 9.

Hooke, Loueall, Anteres, the 6. Schollers.

Loue.

But see the wooers are discarded quite

My vncle beates them out of doores.

Hook.

You villaines—

Out of my house yee brood of caterpillers.—

Sonne of a hedge and Moone-shine; goe—fy, fy, fy.

[Page]O misery beyond— come out you rascall,

And bring your piping nose along with you; —

A fire upon this hollow ruffe of yours,

'Tis like your heart—out rogues, and ruffians—

O I am undone.—

Exit.

Ant.

Ha, ha, he. Loveall, these men are mine;

I am the Patron of the living now,

Dost thou see this?

Lou.

I heard as much within.

Ant.

I will behave myselfe most scurvily,

Like to some surly crabbed Patron now,

That has some 6, or 7 tyr'd horses tyed

At [...] dore. How now?

Zea.

Patron.

He salutes Anteros winking, He in the meane time cuts away the blacke box that hung at his girdle.

Ant.

What sayes my Client?

Loveall, I pray thee catechize this box,

Ther's good stuffe in 't I warrant thee.

Zea.

Good Patron.

Arthur.

Heare me Sir, I'le dispatch it in three words,

This is a tedious Asse, and readeth nought

But English Treatises.

Zea.

Sir, will it please you

To take particular notice?—

Tem.

Sir.

Stu.

But Patron—

Omnes.

Patron.

Ant.

Who! now the sent growes hot, 'tis ranck,

The game's in view. Haup,—rate them there—no more

You Sir, that are the ring-leader of this rout.—

Zea.

Kings be profane.

Ant.

'Sdeath! what a pack of rogues

Are got together here? what is your name?

Zeal.

Zealous Knowlittle:

Ant.

Zealous Knowlittle? good;

Of which Vniversitie?

Zeal.

Of both the Vniversities.

Ant.

A very likely thing: good M^r Knowlittle

Separate your selfe a little from the people.

Zeal.

With all my heart, I'le separate.

Ant.

Your name?

Temp.

My name is Tempest Allmouth sir.

Ant.

How? Tempest Almouth? where are thy braines man?

Arth.

He has not any.

Ant.

Beare him company.

Loue.

What haue we here? Item, to send forth tickets

To all the Brethren that doe inhabite

Within this Shire, to giue them intimation,

That M. Mother-tongue stands the first of Iune.

Ant.

You that are next him?

Arm.

Arthur Armestrong sir.

Ant.

[Page]

You there Collosse?

Stutch:

My name is Stutchell Legg.

Ant.

Troth, and thou art well underlay'd indeed,

A couple of foot-ball players I warrant them.

Lou.

Item: — a pox upon't, here's bawdery,

Ile rake noe deeper in this puddle. — so.

Ant:

And what must we call you?

Gan:

Ganimede Filpot▪

Ant:

Thou should'st be a good fellow by thy name.

Come on; what glorious title I beseech you

Has bounteous Nature fixt on you: nay open.

Hugo.

My name is Hugo obligation.

Ant:

How? Hugo obligation? 'pray thee Loveall

Is not this shorne bearde villaine the precise Scriveneur,

Would faine turne Priest?

Lou:

The very same I take it.

Ant.

Meddle not with me

Iack.

Nay doe not hold me.

A whoreson Inkebottle, and two skins of parchment,

He drawes his Sworde.

Dares he hope for my sister, and a living?

You slave, are Parsonages in this age so cheape?

Lou:

'Pray thee Anteros.

Ant:

Doe not entreat me Loveall,

He dyes: this hat is not more mortified.

Lou:

'Pray thee be quiet.

Ant:

Hang him, a death's too good

For such a rascall. — Sirrah, 'le cut indentur's

Vpon your skin. And here's another Villayne,

Whose very countenance speakes Servingman,

Filpot come hither.

Lou.

Nay but Anteros.

Ant:

Death man! our Vniversities doe swarme,

They have more Schollers then they know to spend

While they are Sweet: and must such Rogues as these,

Whose height of knowledge, is to spit and snuffle,

And talke some 3. houres non-sense, shoulder them

Out of their places? what is 't that makes so many

Of our quick witt's turne Iesuits, and forsake

Both their Religion, and their Country thinke you?

Sirrah noe more then thus, lye and thou dyest.

Have not you beene a Serving man sometimes?

Gan:

Yes truely sir, I'le not deny't, I was

A gentlemans butler once.

Ant:

I told you so.

The very chipping's hang in's eye-brow's still.

His face unto this instant minute shines

With broken beere that was his fees, stand by,

[Page]And doe not hope so large a benefit

From me as to be kill'd, live, live, unhappy.

You M. know little know you whose box is this?

Zeal:

Truely 'tis mine, verily.

Ant:

Away you stinkards,

I wilbe visited no more to day.

Avoyde I say. Have I not done it well?

Exeunt Suitors.

Lou:

Oh noe, you want the pawles, and the hums,

And the grave thumbe under the girdle too.

Ant:

Oh, that's for old living brokers, I'me a young one.

Lou.

You must indent then with them, for to keepe you

Some hounds or cocks, and get a handsome wife

To entertaine you.

Ant.

A wife? a thunderbolt

Is entred me, 'pray thee no more.

Lou:

How now?

ACTVS 5. SCENA 10.

Iustice Hooke, Terpander, Mistris Vrsly, Loveall, Anteros, Placenta, Neander, Constantina (as dead,) brought in by two of Lively's servants, three Fidlers, one of them carryes all the fidles, and Neanders sword, the other two leade him in.

Hooke.

And get you packing too, thou olde impostor,

With your distorted puppet here; and you

That make the custardes quake where ere you come,

Thou enemy to sweet meats.

Ter.

M^r. Hooke

'Twould rellish more of wisedome if you did

Beare out this matter coolely. Come my daughter.

Hook.

O me! the very boy's will laugh at me.

Ter.

Anteros salute your sister, and embrace her.

Ant.

I am undone againe! what shall I doe

Loveall?

Lou.

What shall you doe? why kisse her man.

Ant:

Sister god save you, — and as much to you

My never-to-be-hereafter father in law.

Hook:

Woe's me! what shall I say? what shall I doe?

I have given in the morgage, and without money.

But what new spectacle is this?

Lou:

Whats heere?

How? the dead body of a gentle-woman?

Pla:

Is this Neandur?

1 Rust.

Hold the cut throat fidlers

Whilst we doe bring this gentlewoman 'fore the justice.

2 Rust:

A kind and loving husband sure, that has.

[Page]Made a fayre hand on's wife thus the first day.

Lou:

Ha? what is this I see? O trayterous eyes:

Can I believe ye any more? my sister?

Constantina?

Hook:

How's that?

Pla:

It cannot be.

Lou:

'Tis she. O partiall heavens! but yet it is not,

'Tis not long since I left my sister safe

With in her chamber, and in another habit —

By all the powers 'tis she — I doe profane

The god's; it is not she, it is not. — once more.

The twins of Leda were not halfe so like.

I'le be resolv'd immediatly.

1 Rust:

Good M. justice,

Exit.

I pray you heare me. As we did daunce even now

In your North field, we found this gentlewoman,

Lying all along (as to say) even quite dead,

And this her husband with his naked sword

Standing hard by her.

Hook:

Another riddle yet.

Her husband? ha? Why is not this Neander

One of the rivall's in my daughters love?

2 Rust.

Ander, or Pander, wee know not that,

But 'tis her husband, that wee'r sure of

Is he not Robbin?

1 Rust.

I that he is our Edward,

We both were present when they were detracted.

2 Rust.

Subtracted you foole. But as I sayd before

Seeing him stand so desperatly with his sword

We stole behind him, and so caught him.

Ant:

A valiant act believ't. Good sir, let's goe.

Pla:

Ah Constantina, ah good heart! was this

The journey you intended?

Ant:

Sir, I beseech you —

We shall be poyson'd with these womens sighs

He offers to goe.

'Tis worse then a Germayne hot-house.

Ter:

Anteros

Stay, we will see the end of this.

Hook:

Fye, fye, Hell is broke loose upon me: all her furies

Are come at once t'assault me.

Con:

Ah Cleopes!

she revives

Nean:

She lives againe, O miracle of women!

Con:

Where art thou Cleopes?

Nean:

Oh hated name,

Enough t'infect the world, but that it comes

Out of those lipps.

Pla:

Speake Constantina.

Con.

What haue I to doe

With light or heaven? I will not live.

Pla:

O me!

[Page]Shee swounds againe.

1 Rust.

Why doe you rub her head

And face so much, you foolish woman you?

Let me alone, I'le find her wound I warrant you.

Pla.

Forbeare, or I'le find that swines face of yours.

She strikes him.

Const.

I am too bad for hell, they'l not receiue me,

They are afraid I should infect those soules,

Those vertuous soules which doe inhabit there.

Nean

Art thou not softned yet Neander? Ha?

Hadst thou an heart cut out 'oth Diamond rocke,

Sure this would melt it.

Const.

O my Cleopes!

1 Rust.

What will you giue sir, and I will let you

Shift for your selfe?

Nean.

What thou deservest villaine.

2 Rust.

Halfe part, or else she shall not go.

Nea.

Take halfe.

He breakes loose, and beats them out.

I will divide my gifts betwixt yee — there.

Thou Temple of Vertue, fayrest Constantina. —

Const.

Oh I shall die againe if I see him.

Nean.

But will you liue if I doe presently

Make a divorce betwixt you and Neander?

And place you in the armes of him you so

Loue, and adore, your Cleopes?

Const.

You cannot.

Nean.

Thou'rt all divinitie, indeed I cannot.

See where Pandora comes; but now I can.

Behold my Lucius.

ACT. 5. SCE. 11.

Laurentio, Lucius, Endymion, Pandora, Isabella, cum caeteris.

Laur.

Nay, I will still persist to follow thee

Basest of men.

End.

Good father.

Luc.

Suffer him;

His tongue has learn'd the palsie from his hands;

Alas hee's old, and must bee pardon'd for't.

But what imports this multitude? and see Neander

With his Boy-bride. Pandora, sweetest Lady —

Ant.

An other tempest! where shall I shelter me?

Luc.

By all the joyes in Loue, by all the sorrowes,

By all his Roses, and his Worme-wood, take

[Page]Thy thoughts from me, and let them doubled fall

Vpon my friend Neander. —Fairest foule,

Doe but contemplate that most curious frame

Of man, in what a pleasing harmonie

Nature has marryed all those provinces

His limbes together: view but his sparkling eye,

And reade divinitie there; looke on his hayre,

Survey his face, and fee how Majestie

And sweetnesse there doe striue for victory,

And still the issue's doubtfull.

Nean.

Lucius,

Thou shalt not overcome; disguise farewell.

O thou that art the shame of all thy sexe,

Faire Constantina, yet not halfe so faire

As vertuous, here behold thy Cleopes;

Hee discovers himselfe.

Neander's vanish'd; why doe you wonder so?

I doe confesse I lou'd that Gentlewoman,

And for her loue I tooke on this disguise,

And here for thine I put it off againe,

And on my bended knee doe begg my pardon

For all the wrong I'ue done thee

Ant.

Cleopes!

Hoo.

It is a miracle: but the bonds, the living.

Pla.

O heavens! 'tis he, most happy Constantina!

Const.

My Cleopes? grant me some respite joy

Before thou kilst me — Oh my Cleopes!

Whom doe I embrace? into whose armes am I fallen?

Cleo.

O constant virgin!

Const.

But how shall I hereafter

Giue any credit to my senses? O

Placenta, courteous Midwife, pray thee tell mee,

Where am I now? in heaven?

Pla.

Bridle your passion.

Luc.

Am I my selfe? or doe I dreame all this?

Cleo.

Lucius, take truce with wonder, I am Cleopes,

And I doe hope though now I weare that name,

As deare to thee as when I heard Neander.

You may remember when as first the beautie

Of fayre Pandora did attract your eyes

To wonder, and to loue, that I was then

A busie wooer unto Constantina:

But so it pleased Cupid, that while I

[Page]Drew out a languishing and luke-warme suit

To her, the vigour of Pandora's beames,

(As doth the Sun unto our culinar fire)

Did quite extinguish that same petty flame.

Thinking it vaine t'attempt her in that shape,

I presently did take some discontent,

And fain'd a journey into Belgia,

And not long after tooke on this disguise,

And return'd hither; where I haue remain'd

Your Rivall, and capitall friend together:

And (which I wonder at the most) unknowne:

You haue my Metamorphosis. But sweet,

How cam'st thou 'pray thee, unto M^r Liuely?

And by what trickes did he inveagle thee

Vnto this contract, since thou didst not know

That Cleopes was there invisible?

Con.

My better Genius, you shall heare within

The story whole, it is too tedious

To be told here.

Cleo.

But now Pandora, why

Stand you so dully here, and doe not flie

Into his strict embraces, who alone

Loues you, and who alone deserues your loue?

Luc.

Doe I loue her? doe I deserue her loue?

Hast thou (sweet friend) for me forsaken her,

Whom thou didst prize 'boue thine owne proper soule?

And now hast married her whom thou didst flie?

And all for my sake, and shall I thus repay thee?

But for her loue thou ne're hadst been Neander;

And but for mine hadst been Neander still;

Friend Cleopes, or if thou wilt Neander,

(Vnder both titles most belov'd of me)

Was shee all Venus; did each hayre of hers

Fetter a Loue, were there as many Cupids

That hover'd o'e her head, as there be lights

VVhich guild yon Marble roofe, by them I sweare,

By all that's Sacred, by what ever flyes

The touch of mortall eye, I sweare againe,

I would disclaime her and her loue for ever.

Pand.

Troth Lucius, I doe pitie you, that do [...]

[Page]Spend so much breath unto so little end,

VVhat need all these deepe protestations?

I care not this for all your loue, nor yet

For your friend Ianus there with the two faces;

Nor do I think ye men.

Luc.

So quickly?

Pan.

Yes.

I doe confesse I am a woman; see,

Here is the man has wonne what ye haue lost;

Stout souldiers sure, that when the Citie gates

VVere open to yee, durst not enter in.

Luc.

O Isabella, 'tis for thy sake I know

That all these miseries doe happen mee.

(Forgiue mee good Laurentio) Isabella,

At length I haue experience what it is

To loue an outside, the meere barke of woman,

And to forsake an inward vertue: but

If once I haue thee in possession more —

[Redit in scenam Loueall cum Isabellâ]

Loue.

Follow mee Witch, devill, strumpet, prostitute.

Isab.

Ah whither will he drag mee? oh my heart!

Loue.

What haue yee done with my dead sisters body?

Con.

Thy sisters body now has got a soule.

(O my sweet Cleopes!) most welcome brother.

Loue.

But doth she liue then?

Const.

And so happily,

As I haue call'd it impudence to wish

What I doe now enjoy.

Laur.

Whom doe I see?

My daughter Isabella?

Loue.

But is this Cleopes?

Luc.

I dare not looke upon that wronged face.

Const.

It is, and now thy sisters husband.

Cleo.

Brother,

All health, all happinesse.

Loue.

More then all to you,

Good Cleopes.— But dost thou liue, my sister?

Why wast thou dead but now?

Const.

Thou shalt heare that

Some other time.

Laur.

Seest thou that virgin?

End.

Yes, it is my sister Isabella.

Laur.

Peace.

Isab.

I am undone! my father, and my brother.

Sir, I beseech you pardon what my loue,

And younger yeeres haue trespas'd.

Laur.

Rise my daughter;

Ioy will not suffer mee for to be angry.

Seest thou that face?

Isab.

It is Endymion

My brother.—Brother, God saue you.

End.

Sister!

Lau.

[Page]

Thy Brother? 'tis thy traytour that I meane,

That has undone thee and thy name.

Isab.

'Tis Lucius.

Ant.

Sir I beseech you doe not hearken to him.

Ter.

No more.

Ant.

A pox upon this honesty,

It will vndoe us all: 'tis ten to one

But that his tender Conscience will perswade him

To pay in the money for all this.

Luc.

Faire soule

Canst thou forgiue thy Lucius?

Isa.

Canst thou loue

Thy Isabella?

Luc.

Give me a man dares aske

That question? Good Laurentio let me craue

Your likeing and consent.

Lau.

Consent? to what?

Luc.

To marry this your daughter.

Lau.

Marry my daughter?

No periur'd wretch.

Isa.

Sir I beseech you grant it.

O Lucius! O happy houre!

Lau.

Thou hast her,

And with her such a portion as shall please thee.

Luc.

I will not heare of Portion, shee her selfe

Is dowry enough to mee.— O Isabella!

Pla.

What? Is the Players boy prov'd woman too?

Pan.

Father.

Hook.

I say trouble me not—the morgage.

Pan.

Sir I beseech you heare me.

Hook.

Fy, fy, fy.

Pan.

And let me haue your approbation▪

In this young Gentleman for my husband.

Hook.

Laur.

Perhaps sir you may doubt of his estate,

But if you'le credit me, I can instruct you,

I am his Father, hee mine onely Sonne,

And (I doe thanke my starrs) our fortun's are

None of the meanest. Speake Sir, will you give

Your daughter here, without a portion?

Hook.

Without a Portion? take her what er'e thou art

So, So, that care is past yet, this a little

Help's out with th' other losses.

Ter.

Master Hooke,

You shall not frowne, since all things here doe smile;

To morrow I will pay you halfe your mony,

So you will grant me a generall acquittance;

'Tis in my power (you know) and I may chuse

Whether I'le pay a farthing, but no more,

(There is a thing call'd conscience within me;

And) you shall have it: therefore be frolike Sir.

Hook.

Thou art an honest man. Yee are all honest, yee are all honest.

[Page] Enter Liuely having heard the other Scene.

Liu.

All this while have I

Employ'd mine cares about this businesse.

Now show thy selfe, and of what house thou com'st.

All health to this faire company—much ioy—

Much happinesse — and a young Sonne to you;

Are you at leasure for to kill me yet?

You see I'me come againe.

Nean.

Let me embrace thee

Thou instrument of all our good.

Liue.

Yes, yes,

I was a foole, knewe nothing, knewe iust nothing,

Could not divine a whit, not tell, not tell,

How this same geare would come to passe, not I;

How doe you like your Liuely now? your Liuely?

Hooke

Wee will discourse of that within. Terpander,

Sir will it please you follow? you my Sonne,

Gentl'men y'are all my guests to night. Mee

Think's I am growne Pestilent kinde vpon the suddayne,

The Musicke too, wee will be merry, come,

Nay come, come, take me while the homours hot.

[Exeunt omnes, but Loveall and Anteros.]

Ant.

Loueall, a word: nay troupe on, let them troupe.

Lov.

The newes?

Ant.

'Faith nothing but to take my leaue,

Bid you far well.

Lov.

Why so? I pray thee stay,

You'le in I hope.

Ant.

What among such a kennell

Of women? noe, adiew.

Lou.

Nay preethee goe.

Ant.

Not for the Fay'ry Kingdome.

Wise.

Mr. Loveall,

Sweet Mr. Loveall.

Mung.

Anteros.

Ant.

How now?

Mung.

As I am a gentleman, and an elder brother, I am almost choak'd.

Wise.

Sweet Mr. Loveall, O Mr. Loveall. 'Tis vtterly against my complexion,

To lye here any longer.

Ant.

Death! our fooles,

Our dish of buffles: as I hope to prosper

My thoughts had lost them quite.

Lou.

I thought not of them.

Nod.

Good Mr. Loveall are the officers gone?

Ham.

Anteros, Anteros, is the coast cleare yet?

Ant.

But how shall wee dispose of them?

Lou.

Wee'd best

Barrell them vp and send them for new England.

Ant.

A pox there's fooles enow already there.

Let's pickle them for winter Sallads.

Lou.

No;

[Page]They are not capable of Salt, man; rather

Let's get some broaken trumpet, or old drumme,

And shew them to the people from some strange

Beasts out of Affrick

Mer.

Father, my gowne is not silke yet.

Stip.

A bots on you.

Ant.

Harke, there's another egge sprung, my sheepheard and his faire daughter.

Wise.

Loveall, Mr. Loveall, I am of a sanguine complexion.

Ham.

Anteros.

Ant.

Now all the world! what shall wee do with them?

But stay, a word,—performe it, I'le take order

[Hee whispers with Loveall]

T' vncase vm' to your hands.—

Now quickly Nodle, all is quiet now,—

Exit Loveall.

Come Mr. William — Not a mouse is stirring—

Safe, safe, all 's safe. Ha, he, he.

[They all 4 come out at the 4 corners of the stage.]

Nod.

I'ue spoyl'd my cloathes quite, would I had a brush;

How now? wee're gull'd.

Wis.

I, as I am a liuing saule. — marke the end on't.

Ham.

Who haue wee here? does his ghost walke?

Nod.

Wee are all gee [...]'d I perceiue it plaine now.

Wis.

Who's that? Mr. Mungrell? is the Scholler aliue againe? I should haue beene very melancholy to haue beene hang'd as I am a liuing saule.

Nod

If I could get my raepier and a brush,

[Redit in scenam Loveall & Placenta with a cudgell.]

I'de steale away.

Pla.

Would you haue a brush? I'le brush yee yee villaines,

Nay, Mr. Loueall told me what dusty companions yee were,

And that yee wanted brushing, and how yee bad

Abus'd my husband, and my daughter, ty'de them

To a tree, come one your wayes, want yee brushing?

Ye rascalls, I'le brush you, would ye be brusht▪

She beats thē forth

Come on, lets see what cover'd dish [...]'haue here now?

She vnties them

Hy day! you lubberly knaue; what Madame Gillian too?

Stip.

What? is shee come now to trouble vs!

My daughter, I doe charge you on my blessing

Looke scuruily vpon her.

Mer.

Yes forsooth Father.

Stip.

Call her not Mother darling, but disclaime her,

[Page]Shee is no wife of mine, shee does conspire

Against our gentility daughter, and shee lyes;

Call her the plaine old woman, sweet-lips, doe;

Ile beare you cut in't, doe as your father bids you.

Pla.

How now?

Mer.

But forsooth father, my neckercher is not turn'd into Gold yet.

Pla.

They are both mad of a certaine.

Stip,

I am a gentleman, and I will be a gentleman, I will enclose, and I will rayse rents—I wil be a lower-house man, and I will be—

Plac.

An old cox-combe, and you shall be beaten.

[She beats him.]

Stip.

But does this stand good in law?

Plac.

Feare not that; I'le find an old statute for it, doubt it not. You are a gentleman? and you will be a gentleman? I'le make you gentle enough e're I haue done with you.

Stip.

O, O, O.

Plac.

And you my sweet lips that wil not call me mother, but looke scuruily,

Come on your wayes I haue the common law on my side too for this.

[She beats Merda.]

Mer.

Oh mother, I'le neuer bee a gentlewoman more while I liue, nor neuer talke of gold neckerchers, no that I won't truely.

[Shee beats Stipes againe.]

Plac.

Yes, you shall bee a Lower-house man, you shall; I'le take you downe a Pinne, you'r too high now.

Stip.

O, O, good wife—O, O, hony wife.

Pla.

You'l in?

[Exit. Plac. & Merda.]

Stip.

Buz, peace and catch a mouse cry I.

[Enter Hammershin]

Ant.

What is my Scholler return'd? pre'thee goe in Iack Loveall, I'le change but two words with him

Exit Love.

And follow. Well sayd, nay looke not sowerly on the matter.

Ham.

You haue abus'd mee Sir, and goe to the fence Schoole with mee if you dare, or else wr [...]stle a fall with me.

Ant.

He giue thee satisfaction my rowser

My Hit-her better, nay put off these frownes;

What say'st thou to my sister, and the Living?

I know you haue heard the newes from out the Cabbin,

And you was once a Suitour to her; speake,

Will that content thee? come you are not the first

Has got a Parsonage with fooling Sir,

[Page]I will procure it for thee, feare it not:

Nay spare your Hatt, it will be tedious,

My thankes shall be in Oates.

Stip.

But Master Ieoffry.

Ant.

Follow Iack Loveall in.

[Exit Ham.]

Stip.

You know I was your Master to day.

Ant.

Well put the case.

Stip.

Poore, and ill parell'd.

Ant.

Put the case againe.

Stip.

But now you see how strangely altered.

Ant.

Put the case the third time.

Stip.

Are you avis'd of that? I'le n'ere trust winking beast againe for your sake, I'le tell you but so. Did you not tell mee that Obrum would make me a gentleman? Obrum? Obrum? if Obrum has no better tricks then these, let Obrum keepe his tricks to coole his porredge, 'sduds I look'd euery minute when Obrum would haue put a greene scarlet suite vpon my backe like your's, all to bee dawb'd with spingle spangles; and in the meane time comes my wife with a blacke and blew home spun of her owne making. Well that same Obrum is a sembling cony catching knaue, and I know what I could call you too, but for your whiniard, and your staring goggles.

Ant.

Stipes, no more, advaunce thy duller eye,

Know'st thou what all those blazing stars portend?

Sti.

I, I, by'r Lady? how now? 'sduds I thinke fourty Obrums haue beene here, (Master Ieoffry is that Obrum that makes gentlefolkes, a Taylor?) one Obrum could neuer haue paynted them thus.

[Page]

Epilogue.

PEace prophane rudenesse; what alteration's this?

What meane these bended Knees? but are these women?

Am [...]a Conuert then? so suddainely?

Surely some Power greater then all that Sex

Is interpos'd, vayl'd in a femall outside,

Else how come I so supple ioynted, that

Before was stiffer then the Rhodian Statue?

There is an Homage due, and I must pay't

Spite of my proudest nerues. Most Sacred Goddesse,

Behold a Penitent, that falls thus lowe

Before your feete: as you haue showne your selfe

More then a Mortall, in converting me,

Confirme it by your Pardon; 'tis a Vertue

No lesse deseruing, and as neere to miracle.

And You great Monarch, that the world may know

How nigh a Kin to heauen and all the Gods

You are in bloud and power, confute that bold

Erronious tenent, prooue the Age of Wonders

Still to endure. What I have promised

Vnto this Shepheard (as a miracle)

To be perform'd by Obron and this tree,

Doe you effect; make vs all gentlemen.

Which one Kinde ray sent from Your gracious eyes

Will doe, and in that confidence wee rise.

FINIS.

[Page]

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