An excellent comedy, called, The Prince of Priggs revels: or, The practises of that grand thief Captain James Hind, relating divers of his pranks and exploits, never heretofore published by any. Repleat with various conceits, and Tarltonian mirth, suitable to the subject. / Written by J.S.

THE PRINCE OF PRIGGS:

Actus Primus.

The Argument of the firſt Act. Hind's wilie Couzenage of a Merchant at Briſtol, leaving him priſoner in a Port-Mantle.

Enter Hind, Furbo, Latro, Spolario, Grammario, as in a Tavern, Wine and Bags of Money before them. HIND. Drink deep my brave boyes of the Baſtinado Of Stramazons, Tinctures, and • lie-paſſata's, Of the Carricado, and brave Enb ocada, Of Blades and Rapier-Hil • s: of ſureſt guard Of the Vincentio, and Eurgonian Ward: Have we not bravely toſs'd this bumbaſt-foil-button. Win gold, and wear gold Boyes, 'tis we that merit it, Furbo.

Come, let's ſhare.

Latro.

I, I, each man as he deſerves.

Spol. If each man claim no more then he deſerves. There will be a precedency for pelf Gram.

Monſtrum horrendum: 'twere incongruous.

Hind. No fractions my dear Myrmidons, Stand firm to your old form of Diſcipline. Latro. But Sir, muſt all our judgments mump and ſet, And reſt upon this kickſhaw Marmoſet: This Athens Ape 'cauſe he can ſimpringly Yaul Auditores humaniſſimi. Fur.

True (Latro)

Spol. He's the meer Spunge that ſucks up all our gain; A very Tumbrel ſtuff'd with — Whom we preſerve, as Witches their Familiars, With prodigal expence of our own blood. Gram. Non laedere ſed ludere, Non Laneae ſed linea, Non ictus Sed nictus potius. Latro. Pox of your cunning canting tongue That beaſtly language merits more then halter. The Ax or ſtigmatizing — Hind. No more my Stern Co-partners in ill, Skilful Surveyers of High-wayes and Hedges, Grammaro muſt not thus be cudgeld (Sirs) his oriſons muſt make way for our ſoules, when by ſiniſter chance we leave the earth. Learnings that general Soule which Plato ſaith, Fixeth the world; we muſt make much of him. Gram. Sol latet in herbis. My anger goes down with the Sun (Sir,) Hind.

Come; all ſhake hands, — my habit A Merchants ſuit produc'd, Hind puts it on. Dear Spolario, Are all our. Horſes, and our Arms in ſafety.

Spolario; They feed like Pluto's Palfrayes under ground, Our Piſtolls, Swords, and other ſurniture Are ſafely locked up at our Randevouz. Hind. He lingers ſtrangely — Did he aſſare you confidently hee'd come. Spola. Should death (Sir) meet him or his Fathers Ghoſt, They'd hardly th'wart his Journey; I perceiv'd him Wrapt in ſo mirthful an Aſtoniſhment, He ſcarce could frame an Anſwer to my Meſſage; The Ape did chatter to himſelf Like to ſome bill-patcht door, whoſe entrails have Spew'd out their Tennant, oh I raviſh'd him, Hee'd come. Hind;

Are the Gaggs fix'd, and all the Gives in readineſs.

Spola.

They are.

Hind.

Be gone.

All go off ſave Hind. Enter Avaritio with two Servants, bearing baggs of Money. Avaritio.

Peace here be multiplyed.

Hind. You are moſt welcome (Sir) I ſee you'l make the Hind called his ſhip (by his ſervant to the Merchant) the Strange-Adventure. STRANGE ADVENTURE yours Avaritio.

Sir, I have ever held it plety to gratifie my friends on good conditions, here is five thouſand pounds; five thouſand more ſhalbe your own whon I have view'd the goods.

Hind. You are moſt nobly honeſt; Drink (Sir) a hearty glaſs. Avar.

What's this a Maſque?

Hind ſtamps with his foot; then enters Turbo, Latro, &c. in vizards: gag Avaritio and his men. Hind.

A Matachin, you'l find it.

Avar.

Aw, Aw, Aw.

Hind. Bear his two ſervants Amongſt their fellow beaſts i'th Oſtrey: Take that Weſtphalia-Gammon-Clove ſtuck-face, And box him up within that Leather Engine. Avar.

Aw, Aw, Aw.

Hind. This bag belongs to Capt. Martius, who with his Dagger often hacks his ſword, They thruſt him into a Port-mantle. And with whole Culverin raging oathes doth tear The Vault of Heaven, ſpetting in the eyes Of Nature, natures loathſome blaſphemies: Five hundred pounds in gold it lately boaſted, This old Extortioner ſhall return the ſum, And think he cheaply is a Libertine: Tranſport him hence into that Captains Chamber; This Key will give you entrance. They carry him off. There place this putrid piece of parcemonie. Anon wee'l ſhare our Coin, and ſuck our Sack. Still be propitious juglingMercury. god, thy ſhrine I'le lade with Hecatombs of ſpotted Kine: For roguing Virtue brings a man defame, A pack-ſtaff Epethite, and ſcorned name.

Actus Secundus.

The Argument of the ſecond Act. Hind feigning himſelf a great Lord, putting ſome of his Train into rich Liveries, and ſtoring his and their pockets with Gold, growes very intimate with a brave and noble Lady, whom at once he deprives of the ineſtimable jewell of her honour, together with much treaſure.

Enter HIND ſolus, in brave cloathes. TUſh! Pluto's wrath Proſerpin can melt, So that thy Sacrifice be freely felt: What cannot Juno force in bed with Jove, Turn and return a Sentence with her love: Well! plainly thus; Sleight, Force, are mighty things From which even all, all earthly glory ſprings. If Vertues ſelf were clad in humane ſhape, Vertue without theſe might go beg and ſcrape: The naked truth is, a well-cloath'd lie, A nimble quick-pate, mounts to dignity; By force or fraud, that matters not a jot, So maſſie wealth may fall into thy lot. Enter Grammario. Gram. Quod gratis grate; and I dare aver That Hiadolgo the Aſtrologer Is a right honeſt man — All hail my Soveraign. Hind. Prithee no Jibs, Thou know'ſt my plot upon fair Infortunia; A wealthy widow; nay, a beauteous widow; A Lady of high birth, and great perfection, Be thou my conduct and my Genius, My wits inciting ſweet-breath'd Zephirus; Some Verſes, ſome Verſes, my Helliconian Harper, Women are ſtrangely taken with ſtrange words. Gram. Totum in toto, Sir, I have fitted you I faith, I was fain to devoure one whole page out of Ovid, Three large ſiz'd ſentences out of Catullus One Axiome out of Hero and Leander; And a whole ſtanzao out of Venus and Adonis, Ere I could hit upon a right ſtrain of poeſie; But at length I hammer'd them out. pray mark me, He reads, Faireſt peece of well-form'd earth, Urge not this your haughty Birth, The power which you have or'e us lyes, Not in your race but in your eyes Should you no Honey vow to taſte But what the maſter Bees have plac'd In compaſſe of their cells, how ſmall A portion to your ſhare would fall; The ſap which at the root is bred In Trees through all the Boughes is ſpred, But vertues which in Parents ſhine Make not like progres through the line: 'Tis not from whom, but where we live, The place does oft thoſe graces give Great Julius on the Mountains bred, A Flock perhaps, or Herd had led; He that the world ſubdu'd had been But the beſt Wrestler on the Green; 'Tis Art and Knowledge which draw forth The hidden ſeeds of native worth, They blow thoſe ſparks and make them riſe Into ſuch flames as touch the Skies. Smile but on me and you ſhall ſcorne Henceforth to be of Princes born. Hind. They are moſt incomparable; Twas well remembred for to urge my breeding; My birth I'm ſure would Butcher all my hopes. Thou ſeeſt how bravely I am clad (my boy) In ſpeaking garments, ſpeaking pockets too. chink's his pockets. The Lord Porta Rich (Grammario) is my name: Go thou, and give that paper to the Lady, Sing in her ear like to the amorous Lute, Set forth my name in a Stentorian tone; Ile ſecond thee my ſelf in perſon preſently: Be gone. Gram.

Ile do my utmoſt (Sir)

Hind. It is a high, brave thing to have th'repute Of compleat villain, perfect, abſolute. Exit. Enter Infortunia, with Grammario, ſervants. Infort. Sir, your Lord no doubt is ev'ry way accompliſh'd: And Ile aſſure you, finds far more regard From me, in the reception of this paper, Then any perſonage of honour hitherto Could ever boaſt, though earneſtly endeavoured. Gram. Madam, if you did know who ſeeks your love, You would — he comes himſelf. Enter Hind in rich Apparel, Furbo, Latro, Spolario in coſtly Liveries, bare-headed, attending him. Hind. Madam, I hope my boldneſſe ſhall find pardon, And my affectionate zeal plead my excuſe. Diſtribute thoſe few Diamonds, and Pearl Bracelets to Furbo. Unto the Ladies that attend this Excellency. Furbo gives many Briſtol ſtones, and counterfeit Pearls to the attending Gentlewoman. Infor. My Lord your honour ſets too high a rate Vpon ſo mean a beauty as is mine Furbo, and his follows ſteal off. Hind, You are ſole Empreſs of all worth, Command my ſtate, my perſon and my life. Infor. Your honour is too courteous to your handmaid, Pleaſe you, this night, to let your preſence grace My homely Table, your honours candor muſt Apologize for my rude entertainment. Hind,

Excellent creature, ever command your vaſſail.

Serv.

Lights there for my Lord; lights — Exeunt.

Enter Furbo, Latro, &c. Furb.

They are all gag'd and bound.

Latro.

As ſafe as my Lord Hind in his miſtreſſe armes.

Furb.

Are they in bed together?

Lat.

To my knowledge,

Spolario,

We ſhall ſoon part their ſtruglings.

Furb.

Theeves, theeves, Exeunt, and return laden with bags of gold, and caskets of jewels, having b • odied themſelves.

Spola.

Theeves,

Lat.

Murther, murther.

Enter Infortunia and Hind, almost naked, with his ſword drawn. Hind, What ſawcie devils interrupt our joyes? What mean theſe clamours, ſpeak upon your lives? Lat.

Alas! my Lord the houſe is rob'd.

Infor.

Oh, I am quite undone —

Furb. You ſee how we are ſanguin'dore Fighting for to prevent ſuch outrages: Spolar.

My leg is almoſt cut in ſunder, oh —

Hind, Be not diſcomforted (dear Lady) Every man mount his ſteed, and take his Arms; My ſelf too, will along: accurſt miſchance; To horſe, to horſe; you Lady to your bed. Infor.

Oh me! Exit Infortunia.

Hind, Why this is bravely done my Bullies; Thus do the Gods ſell all for induſtry, And what's not got by hell-bred Villanie? Conſcience they talk on; conſcience is free, Worſt conſcienc'd men, theſe times, beſt thrivers be; As't pleaſe the Thra •• an Boreas to blow So turns our ayrie conſcience to and fro. Exeunt.

Actus Tertius.

The Argument of the third Act. Hind and his Comrades diſguiſing themſelves in Devils habits, terrifie the Country people, and rob an Alderman of the City of York.

Enter Hind, Latro, Furbo, Grammario, habited like Devils. Hind, TWere well for the great Grandees of the earth (My fellow Furies) were there no worſe Feinds In pitchie Bara thrum then we: Oh how The Bores and Bumpkins of this Shire do dread us No leſs then twelve already are run mad. Latro, Me thinks I like my tranſmutation well, Only my tail is too, too troubleſom — Gram. Fronti nulla Fides Miſtagogus, What mean theſe prodigies? Where is your vice or vertues habites now? For ſustine pro nunc doth bend his brow. Fur. You (Parſon) now are in your native weeds, Black beſt becomes your ſwarthy function Whoſe Doctrine (for the moſt part) damns more ſouls Then Lucifer by all his ſtratagems. Hind,

Oh, our Scout comes merrily.

Spolario whooping and hallowing within. Enter Spolario. Spol.

A prize, prize, a prize —

Hind.

The news?

Spol. The Indies ſalley toward us; An Alderman of York quite gilded o're, His ſervants and his horſes groan with gold, Are journeying this way. Hind. Couch cloſe, my doughty deviſs, They all go out, and return laden with treaſure. Lets ſeize upon them with as winged haſt As real Demons at the hour of death Hurrie a vicious ſoul to Tartarus. Hind. Who would not be a Devil for an hour, To be a man of money twelve moneths after —? Lat. The Alderman (poor wretch) begg'd for his ſoul; His innate guilt; fear of aſſur'd damnation Made him forget petitioning for his pelf. Quoth he, I ſmel ſulphur, and reaking brimſtone. Soot, ſtinking ſoot: Oh hell, how hot art thou! Gram, S • ulto um plena ſunt omnia. An aſſe in's foot-cloth; 'tis no ſin to gull him; He I thank heaven that his own chain did not choak him, And praiſe the devil for's deliverance: He'l ſoon recover all by his colluſions, Abatements, ſtoppels, inhibitions. Heavie pac'd jade, dull pated jobbernoul, Quck in delays, checking with vain controul Fair Juſtice courſe, vile neceſſary evil, Smooth ſeeming ſaint, yet damn'd incarnate Devil. Hind. Well ſaid my man of art, and myſtick ſcience: I know this Alderman and his Lawyers caſe; I fee'd him one, and he cudgeld my caſe, For which I vow'd revenge, and have perfotm'd it. they put off their diſguiſes, and are in other habits, Now ev'ry one reſume his priſtine form; Our next ſcence lies in Kent; thither lets hie. He ſpeaks this aſide to himſelf. Me thinks I feel a civil war within me, Egging me on for to proceed from this, And get the ſubſtance of celeſtial bliſſe; My ſoul oft cals his Parliament of ſenſe, But ſtill the guilty have preheminence: For my ſouls better part ſo feeble is, So cold and dead is, my Sinder • ſis, That ſhadows by odd chance ſometimes are got; But oh! the ſubſtance is reſpected not. Come let's away. Exeunt.

Actus Quartus.

The Argument of the Fourth Argument. Hind And his aſſociates diſguiſed like Beggars, rob a wealthy Citizen of London, and his two friends, near Hogſden.

Enter Hind, Furbo, Latro, Grammario, Spolario, in patcht coats, like beggars, their legs and arms bound up. Hind. Are we not finely fitted (fellow mendicants) For a days prentiſhip to the begging trade? O ſad account! we that were wont to ſpeak In ſmoak and thunder, STAND — UPON YOUR LIVES, Muſt now petition for a piece of coin. Latro. Tut, Our begging is like that the Perſians us'd Of old unto their eager God of fire, When with a flaming torch they did deſcend Unto ſome river, and proteſt to quench Th'a ſpiring God, in caſe he did deny To grant their wiſhes. Oh, I have't ad unguem, The Bard of Bednal green was nothing to me, Gram. Eo Claudus, et Aegrotus ſum, This is the garb men of my cloth muſt take to, Since every Saleſ-man writes himſelf Sacer dos. Stand cloſe, and obſecrate with Rhumatick eys, Here comes the Patron we muſt plunder. Enter Mercator a Citizen, with two friends. Mercat.

A fine morning this is.

1 Friend.

Oh that my wife had born us company; good ſoul, ſhe loves to hear the Cuckoo ſing, eſpecially in the winter.

2. Friend.

So does mine, indeedla.

Hind.

Bleſs your good worſhips in your minds and your bodies, at home and abroad, in bed and at board, The theeves come all about them & beg. No troubles toſs ye, Nor no hare croſs ye; No ſuccubus ride ye, No falſe fire guide ye; Pleaſe to diſtribute your charity amongſt a company of poor maimd men—

Lat.

Deprived of their limbs for the cauſe of their Countrey, whoſe legs and hands remain as Trophies, in France, Spain, Aragon and Apulia.

Furbo.

In Turkey, in Ruſsia, in Naples and Muſcovia

Spilar.

In the Adriatick and the Bal • ick Seas.

Gram. Suppoſito quolibet ſequitur qu idlibet, For your own ſakes whoſe rewards ſhall be glorious, Extend with liberall minds, and willing hands, What both becomes your oppulency, and our indigency. Mer.

Hey day! What bold beggars are theſe?

1. Friend,

What Countrey men are they? They ſpeak all ſeverall Languages.

2. Friend.

They are men of China I think.

Mer.

Truly friends the times are ſo hard, and we ſo burthend, that verily, yea and nay, we are ſcarce able to furniſh our wives with a competent number of ſilke gownes, lawn ſmocks, gold laces, beaver hats, ſilver hilted fans, Flanders laces and other neceſſaries, without which, all honeſt men know we cannot ſubſiſt.

1. Friend,

He ſpeaks truth my brethren.

Hind,

Zounds what dogs are theſe— Come ye counterfeiting Coxcombs Diſcover, diſcover: They diſcover their ſwords and pistols, and put them to the Citizens brests. you (Mercator) brought forth 6. hundred pounds to expiate a debt you owe at Hogſden here.

Mer.

Take all (Sir) ſo you'l ſpare my life.

Hind,

Alas, ide rather overthrow thy wife.

Latro.

What d'ye linger ye pair of Puttocks? Come, lighten, lighten.

1. Friend.

Oh Lord (ſir!)

2. Friend.

Wo and alas! they rob them.

Hind. Now each man lay his hand upon his mouth: Mum, not a word upon your lives. Away my Blades, this muſt we do for gain, Since as the ancient Sages truly tell, "Tis better ne're to be, then not be well.

Actus Quintus.

The Argument of the Fifth Act. The Scots King being overthrown at the battel of Worcſter, accepts of Hinds conduct (knowing how well he was acquainted with the Country) who carries him ſafe away. (Ut aiunt.)

Enter Hind and the King of Scots. Hind. Me thinks (Sir) you do ſeem in this diſguiſe, Like lightning in the Keldar of a cloud: Your viſage (Sir) is not leaſt legible, There is a Libel in your very dreſſe. King. Well ſung the Roman Bard, that all things ſublunary Of worth do hang on very ſlender ſtrings. Hind. Nothing's more tickliſh then the ſtate of Kings: Tall Caedars oft are torn up by the roots By bluſtring Boreas, when the humble ſhrub Sits ſafe, exalting to behold their ruine. King. I know as well all bodies politick As thoſe are humane, have their Dates and Deaths. The Romans firſt had Kings, whoſe rule took end In Yarquins fall; Conſuls then ſate at helm, Swaying the Argoſer of all the world, Until Auguſtus leap'd into the throne, Making all ſtoop to ſingle ſovereignty: Thus have all things terre ſtrial their Dates, The greateſt Emperors, and greateſt States, The Lamps of Heaven, the Planets change above, The Sun from his Diurnal Arch doth move; Ayre doth ſometime to fire or water run, And fire an earthly habit doth put on, That men aſleep, rockt by felicity, That vainly dream here of Eternity, May wake and ſee, ſince humane and Divine Things taſte mutation, 'tis nor ſtrange 'tis Mine. Hind, (Sir) Ime acquainted well with all theſe parts; All England is, but as More fields to me, Make me your guide (Sir) and ne're doubt your ſafety; For though to others I have been untrue, Let me be hang'd if I prove falſe to you. Exeunt.