To the World.

Orld, I was once soln'd to bee round with thee,
because I know tis thy fashion to bee round with
eudery bodie: but the winde shifting his point, the
Veine turn'd: yet because thou wilt it as I judge
of all matters (though for thy labour thou wear'st
Midasses eares, and art Monstrum hotren-
dum, informe: Ingens cui lumen ademptum; whose great Po-
liphemian eyes is put out) I care not much if I make description (be-
fore thy Vniuerfality) of that terrible Poetomachia, lately com-
men'd betweene Horace the second, and a band of leane-witted
Poetafters. They haue bin at high words, and to high, that the
ground could not serue them, but (for want of Chopins) haue st all
upon Stages.

Horace hal'd his Poetafters to the Barre, the Poetafters vn-
truff'd Horace: how worthily eyther, or how Wrongfully, (World)
leau'd it to the Furie: Horace (questionles) made himselfe beleeue,
that his Burgonian wit might desperately challenge all commers,
and that none durst take up the foyles against him: It's likely, if he
had not so beleu'd, he had not bin so deceu'd, for hee was answer'd
at his owne weapon: And if before Apollo himselfe (who is Coro-
nator Poetarum) an Inquifition should be taken touching this la-
mentable merry murdering of Innocent Poetry: all mount Helicon

A 3

to

The vntrusting of

1. I thinke tis a O more more more more sweet to lye with a woman.

2. I warrant all men are of thy minde : another reason is, because they sticke like the scutchions of madame chaity, on the fable ground, weeping in their flalkes, and wincking with their yellow-fuuke eyes, as loath to beholde the lamentable fall of a Maydenhead : what feneles thing in all the house, that is not nowe as melancholy, as a new fet-vp Schoolemafter?

1. Troth I am.

2. Troth I thinke thou mournst, because th'aft mift thy turne, I doe by the quieter of Cupid: you see the torches melt them selues away in teares; the instruments weare their heart strings out for sorrow: and the Siluer Ewers weepe moft pittifull Rosewater: fium or fixe payre of the white innocent wedding gloues, did in my fight choofe rather to be torne in pecees than to be drawne on; and looke this Rosemary, (a fatall hearbe) this dead-mans nose: gay, has crept in amongst thefe flowers to deckei th'nuifible coate of the Brides Maydenhead, when (oh how much do we poore wenches suffer) abouteleuen or twelue, or one a clock at midnight at furtheft, it defcends to purgatory, to give notice that Caleſtine (hey ho) will neuer cometo lead Apes in hell.

1. I fee by thy fighting thou wilt not.

2. If I had as many Mayden-heads, as I haue hayres on my head, I'd venture them all rather then to come into so hot a place; prethy strew thou, for my little armes are weary.

1. I am sure thy little tongue is not.

2. No faith that's like a woman bitten w'fleas, it neuerly's filtsye vpont, what'a miferable thing tis to be a noble Bride, there's such delayes in rifting, in fitting gowres, in tyring, in pinning Rebatoes, in poaking in dinner, in supper, in Reuels, & left of all in cursing the poore nodding fidlers, for keeping miftris bride so long vp from sweeter Reuels, that, oh I could neuer

the Humerous Poet.

neuer endure to put it vp without much bickering.

1. Come th'art an odde wench, hark, harke, muſſicke, may then the Bride's vp.

2. Is she vp? may then I see she has been downe: Lord ha
mercy on vs, we women fall and fall full, and when we haue
husbands we play vpon them like Virginall Iackes, they muſt
ryſe and fall to our humours, or else they'l neuer get any good
ſtraines of muſſicke out of vs; but come now, haue at it for a
mayden-head,
ſtrew.

As they strew, enter Sir Quintilian Shorthose with Peefer Flash and two or three seruing men, with lights.

Sir quin. Come knaues, might begins to be like my ſelfe, an olde man; day plays the theſe and iſtales vpon vs; O well done wenches, well done, well done, you haue coueied all the ſtony way to church with flowers, tis well, tis well, that's an Emblemameto: to be made out of theſe flowers and ſtones, but you are honest wenches, in, in, in.

2. When we come to your ycares, we fal learne what honesty is, come pew-fellow.

Exeunt.

Sir quin. Is the muſſicke comeyer? so much to do! Ift come?

Onnes. Come fir.

Sir quin. Haue the merrypeaues pul'd their fiddle caſes
ouer their instruments eares?

Flash. As soone as e're they entred our gates, the noyſe went, before they came nere the great Hall, the faint hearted villacoes founded at least thrice.

Sir quin. Thou shouldst haue reu'd them with a Cup of burnt wine and sugar; firra, you, horſe-keeper, goe, bid them curry their strings: Is my daughter vp yet?

Exit.

Flash. Vp fir? she was ſeen vp an houre agoe.

Sir quin. Shee's an early flurrer, ah firra.

Flash. Shee'll be a late flurrer soone at night fir.

B 2

Sir quon.

## The vntrusting of

Sir Quint. Goetoo Peeter Flash,you haue a good sodaine flash of braine,your wittes husky,and no martuaile,for tis like one of our Comedians beardes, full ith flubble: about your busines,and looke you be nymble to flye from the wine, or the nymble wine will catch you by the nose.

Flash. If your wine play with my nose Sir, Ile knocke's coxcombe.

Sir quint. Doe Peeter, and weare it for thy labour; Is my Sonne in Law Sir Walter Torell ready yet?

Omnes. Ready fir.

Sir Quint. One of you attend him: Stay Flash, where's the note of the guettes you haue inuited?

Flash. Here Sir, Ile pull all your guettes out of my bofome, the men that will come, I haue croft, but all the Gentlewomen haue at the tayle of the laft letter a pricke, because you may read them the better.

Sir quint. My spectacles, lygh; lygh, knaues: Sir Adam Prickethaft, thou haft croft him, heele come.

Flash. I had much a doe fir, to draw Sir Adam Prickethaft home, because I tolde him twas early, but heele come.

Sir quint. Iustice Crop, what will he come?

Flash. He tooke phificke yestter day fir.

Sir quint. Oh then Crop cannot come.

Flash. O Lord yes, fir yes, twas but to make more roome in his Crop for your good cheare, Crop will come.

Sir quint. Widdow Mineuer.

Flash. Shee's prickt you see fir, and will come.

Sir quint. Sir Vaughan ap Rees, oh hee's croft twife. So, so, so, then all thefe Ladyes, that fall downewardes heere, will come I see, and all thefe Gentlemen that stand right before them.

Flash. All wil come.

Sir quint. Well fayd, heere, wryte them out agen, and put the men from the women; and Peeter, when we are at Church bring

## the Humorous Poet.

bring wine and cakes, be light & nimble good Flash, for your burden will be but light.

Enter fir Adam a light before him.

Sir Adam Prickethaft God morrow, god morrow goe, in, in, in, to the Bridegroome, tafte a cup of burnt wine this morning, twill make you flye the better all the day after.

Sir Adam. You are an early fyrrer Sir Quintilian Short-bome.

Sir qui. I am so, it behoues me at my daughters wedding, in, in, in; fellow put out thy torch, and put thy selfe into my buttery, the torch burnes ill in thy hand, the wine will burne better in thy belly, in in.

Flash. Ware there, roome for Sir Adam Prickethaft: your Worship— Exit.

Enter Sir Vaughan and Miftris Mineuer.

Sir quint. Sir Vaughan and Widdow Mineuer, welcome, welcome, a thousand times: my lips Miftris Widdow shall bid you God morrow, in, in, one to the Bridegroome, the other to the Bride.

Sir Vaughan. Why then Sir quiontilian Shorthoſe, I will step into miftris Bride, and Widdow Mineuer, shall goe vpon M.Bridegroome.

Mineuer. No pardon, for by my truely Sir Vaughan, Ile ha no dealings with any M.Bridegroomes.

Sir qui. In widdow in, in honest knight in.

Sir Vaug. I will vſher you miftris widdow.

Flash. Light there for fir Vaughan; your good Worſhip—

Sir Vaug. Drinke that shilling Ma. Peeter Flash, in your guttes and belly.

Fla. Ile not drinke it downe fir, but Ile turne it into that which shall run downe, oh merrily!

Exit Sir Vaughan.

B 3

Enter

The vntrulsing of

Enter Blunt, Crispinus, Demetrius, and others with
Ladies, lights before them.

Sir quin. God morrow to thesse beauties, and Gentlemen,
that haue Vifhered this troupe of Ladyes to my daughters
wedding, welcome, welcome all; musick? may then the bride
groome's comming, where are thesse knaues heere?
Flash. All here fir.

Enter Terill, Sir Adam, Sir Vaughan, Celestine, Mineuer, and
other Ladies and attendant 1, 2, 3 blights.

Teri. God morrow Ladies and fayre troops of gallants,
that haue depof'd the drowzy King of sleep, to Crowne our
traine with your rich prelences, I salute you all;
Each one share thanks from thanks in generall,

Crif. God morrow M.Bride-groome, miftris Bride.
Omnes. God morrow M.Bride-groome.

Ter. Gallants I shall intreat you to prepare,
For Maskes and Reutels to defeat the night,
Our Soueraigne will in person grace our marriage.

Sir quin. What will the king be heer?

Ter. Father he will.

Sir quin Where be thesse knaues? More Rose-mary and
gloues, gloues, gloues: choose Gentlemen; Ladyes put on
soft skins vpon the skin of softer hands; so: come miftris
Bride take you your place, the olde men firſt, and then the
Batchelors; Maydes with the Bride, Widdows and wiues to-
gether, the prieſt's at Church, tis time that we march the-
ther

Ter. Deare Blunt at our returne from Church, take paines
to liep to Horace, for our nuptiall songs; now Father when
you pleafe.

Sir quin. Agreed, let on, come good Sir Vaughan, muſt we
lead

the Humerous Poet.

lead the way?

Sir Van. Peter you goe too ſaſt for Miftris pride: so, gin-
gerly, gingerly; I muſe why Sir Adam Prickethaſt ſticks so
ſhort behinde?

Sir quin. He follows close, not too ſaſt, holde vp knaues,
Thus we lead youth to church, they vs to graues. Excunt.

Horace sitting in a study behinde a Curtaine, a candle by him
burning, bookes lying confusedly: to himselfe.

Hor. To thee whose fore-head ſwels with Roses,
Whose moſt haunted bower
Glues life & ſent to every flower,
Whose moſt adored name incloſes,
Things abſt caſe, deep and diuine,
Whose yellow treſes ſhine,
Bright as Ean fire.
O me thy Prieſt inſpire.
For I to thee and thine immortall name,
In-in-in golden tunes,
For I to thee and thine immortall name
In-facred raptures flowing, flowing, swimming, swimming:
In facred rap:ures swimming,
Immortall name, game, dame, tame, lame, lame, lame,
Pux, hath, ſhame, proclaime, oh
In Sacred raptures flowing, will proclaime, not
O me thy Prieſt inſpye !
For I to thee and thine immortall name,
In flowing numbers ſild with ſpright and flame,
Good, good, in flowing numbers ſild with ſpright & flame.

Enter Afinius Bubo.

Afini. Horace, Horace, my sweet ningle, is always in la-
bour when I come, the nine Muses be his midwives I pray
Jupiter: Ningle.

Hor. I.

The vntrusting of

Hor. In flowing numbers fild with sprite and flame,
Tothee.

Afini. Tome ? I pledge thee sweet Ningle, by Bacchus
quaffing boule, I thought ch'aft drunke tome.

Hor. It muſt haue been in the deuine lycour of Pernaffus,
then in which, I know you would ſcarce haue pledg'd me,
but come ſweet roague, fit, ſit, ſit.

Afini. Ouer head and eares yfaith? I haue a ſacke full of newes for thee, thou ſhalt plague some of them, it God lend vs life and health together.

Hor. Its no matter, empty thy ſacke anon, but come here firſt honest roague, come.

Afini. Iſt good, Iſt good, pure Helicon ha?

Hor. Dam me iſt be not the beſt that euer came from me,
if I haue any iudgement, looke fir, tis an Epithalamium for Sir
Walter Terrels wedding, my braines haue giuen aſſault to it
but this morning.

Aſin. Then I hope to see them flye out like gun-powder
eres night.

Hor. Nay good roague marke, for they are the beſt lynes
that euer I drew.

Aſin. Heer's the beſt leafe in England, but on, on, Ile but
tune this Pipe.

Hor. Marke, to thee whose fore-head ſwels with Roses.

Aſin. O sweet, but will there be no exceptions taken, be-
cause fore-head and ſwelling comes together?

Hor. Puff, away, away, its proper, beſides tis an elegancy
to lay the fore head ſwels.

Aſin. Nay an't be proper, let it stand for Godsloue.

Hr. Whose moſt haunted bower,
Gives life and ſent to euery flower.

Things abſtruse, deep and diuine.

Whose yellow treſſes ſhine,

Bright

the Humorous Poet.

Bright as Eoan fire.

Afini. O pure, rich, ther's heate in this, on, on.

Hor. Bright as Eoan fire,

O methy Priest inſpire !

For I to thee and thine immortall name---marke this.

In flowing numbers fild with spryte and flame.

Afini. I mary, ther's spryte and flame in this.

Hor. A pox, a this Tobacco.

Aſin. Wod this caſe were my laſt, if I did not marke, nay
all's one, I haue always a confort of Pypes about me, myne
Ingle is all fire and water, I markt, by this Candle (which is
none of Gods Angels) I remember, you ſtarted back at sprite
and flame.

Hor. For I to thee and thine immortall name,
In flowing numbers fild with sprite and flame,
To thee Loues mightieſt King,

Himcn ò Hume'n' does our chaſte Mufe ſing.

Aſin. Ther's smuſicke in this;

Hor. Marke now deare Aſinus.
Let theſe virgins quickly ſee thee,
Leading out the Bride,
Though theyr blushing cheekes they hide,
Yet with kiffes will they ſee thee,
To vntye theyr Virgin zone,
They grieue to lye alone.

Afini. So doe I by Venus.

Hor. Yet with kiffes wil they ſee thee, my Mufe has marcht
(deare roague) no farder yet: but how iſt ? how iſt? nay pre-
thee good Aſinus deale plainly, doe not flatter me, come,
how?

Aſin. If I haue any iudgement :

Hr. Nay look you Sir, and then follow a troope of other
rich and labour'd conceipts, oh the end shall be admirable !
but how iſt sweet Bubo, how, how?

C

Aſin. If

The vntrusting of

Aſi. If I haue any Iudgement,tis the beſt fluffe that euer dropt from thee:

Hor. You haue seene my Acroſticks?

Aſi. Ile put vp my pypes and then Ile see any thing.

Hor. Thaſt a Coppy of mine Odes to,haſt not Bubo?

Aſi. Your odes? O that which you ſpake by word a mouth at the ordinary, when Musco the gull cryed Mew at it:

Hor. A pox on him poore braineles Rooke: and you remember, I tolde him his wit lay at pawne with his new Satin ſute, and both would be loft, for not fetching home by a day.

Aſi. At which he would faine ha bluſht but that his pained cheekes would not let him.

Hor. Nay firra the Palinode, which I meane to ſitch to my Reuels, ſhall be the beſt and ingenious peece that euer I ſwet for; ſtay roague, Ile fat thy ſpleane and make it plumpe with laughter.

Aſi. Shall I ſayth Ningle, ſhall I see thy secrets?

Hor. Puh my friends.

Aſi. But what ſardle's that? what ſardle's that?

Hor. Fardle, away, tis my packet; heere lyes intoomb'd the loues of Knights and Earles, heere tis, heere tis, Sir Walter Terils letter to me, and my anſwere to him: I no sooner opened his letter, but there appeared to me three gloious Angels, whome I adorn'd, as ſubiectes doe their Soueraignes: the honelt knight Angles for my acquaintance, with ſuch golden baites — but why dooſt laugh my good roague? how is my anſwere, prethee, how, how?

Aſi. Anſwere, as God iudge me Ningle, for thy wit thou mayſt anſwer any Iuſtice of peace in England I warrant; thou writ ſt in a moſt goodly big hand too, I like that, & readſt as leageably as some that haue bin ſau'd by their neck-verſe.

Hor. But how dooſt like the Kings inditing?

Aſi. If I haue any iudgement; a pox ont, heer's worſhip-

ſull

the Humerous Poet.

full lynes indeed, heer's fluffe: but firra Ningle, of what fashion is this knights wit, of what blocke?

Aſi. Why you ſee; wel, wel, an ordinary Ingenuity, a good wit for a knight, you know how, before God I am haunted with ſome the moſt pittyfull dry gallants. (a far off.)

Aſim Troth ſo I think; good peeces of lantskip, ſhew beſt

Hor. I, I, I, excellent ſumpter horſes, carry good cloaths; but honelt roague, come, what news, what newes abroad? I haue heard a the horſes walking a'chtop of Paules.

Aſi. Ha ye? why the Captain Tucca rayles vpon you moſt prepoſterouſly behinde your backe, did you not heare him? ſt Ho. A pox vpon him: by the white & loſt hand of Minerua, Ile make him the moſt ridiculous: dam me if I bring not's humorath ſtage: &--curuy lymping tongu'd captaine, poor greaſie buffe ſerkin, hang him: tis out of his Element totra-duce me: I am too well ranckt Aſinias to bee ſtab'd with his dudgion wit: firra, Ile compoſe an Epigram vpon him, ſhall goe thus—

Aſi. Nay I ha more news, ther's Crispinus & his Iorneyman Poet Demetrius Faninus too, they ſweare they'll bring your life & death vpon't ſtage like a Bricklayer in a play.

Hor. Bubo they muſt preſſe more valiant wits than theyr own'to do it: meath ſtage: ha, ha, Ile ſtarte thence poore copper-lace workmaſters, that dare play me: I can bring (& that they quake at) a prepar'd troupe of gallants, who for my ſake ſhal diſaſte euery vnſalted line, in their fly-blowne Comedies

Aſi. Nay that's certaine, ille bring 100. gallants of my ranke

Hor. That fame Crispinus is the fillieſt Dor, and Faninus the flighteſt cob-web-lawne peece of a Poet, oh God!

Why should I care what euery Dor doth buz

Incredulous eares, it is a crowne to me,

That the beſt iudgements can report me wrong'd.

Aſi. I am one of them that can report it:

Hor. I thinke but what they are, and am not moou'd.

C 2

The

The vntruising of

The one a light voluptuous Reuel,

The other, a strange artogating puffe,

Both impudent, and arrogant enough.

Afin. S'l'd do not Criticus Reuel in these lynes, ha Ningle has

Hor. Yes, they're mine owne.

Crisf. Horrace.

Dem. Flaccus.

Cris. Horace, not vp yet;

Hor. Peace, tread sofly, hyde my Paper; who's this so early?

Some of my rookes, some of my guls?

Cris. Horace, Flaccus.

Hor. Who's there? I'll say, treade sofly: What Terill on my life: who's there? my gowne sweete roague, so, come vp, come in.

Enter Crispinus and Demetrius.

Cris. God morrow Horrace.

Hor. O, God faue you gallants.

Cris. Afinius Bubo well met.

Afin. Nay I hope so Crispinus, yet I was fickle a quarter of a yeare a goe of a vehement great toothatch: a pox on't, it bit me vilye, as God fa me la I knew twas you by your knocking so soone as I saw you; Demetrius Fannius, will you take a whiffe this morning? I haue tickling geare now, heer's that will play with your nose, and a pype of mine owne cowring too.

Dem. I, and a Hodghead too of your owne, but that will neuer be soowred cleane I feare.

Afin. I burnt my pype yesternight, and twas neuer vſide since, if you will tis at your ſeruice gallants, and Tobacco too, tis right pudding I can tell you; a Lady or two, tooke a pype full or two at my hands, and praizde it for the Heauens, shall I fill

the Humorous Poet.

I fill Flannius?

Dem. I thanke you good Afinius for your loue, I fildome take that Philicke, tis enough

Hauing so much foole to take him in snuffe.

Hor. Good Bubo read some booke, and giue vs leaues.

Aſ. Leaue have you deare Ningle, marry for reading any book Ile take my death vront (as my Ningle fayes) tis out of my Element no faith, euer since I felt one hit me ith teeth that the greatest Clarkes are not the w itselfe men, could I abide to goe to Schoole, I was at As in preſent i and left there: yet because Ile not be counted a worse foole then I am, Ile turne ouer a new leafe.

Afinius reads and takes Tobacco.

Hor. To see my fate, that when I dip my pen In distilde Roſes, and doe ſtrike to dreine, Out of myne Inke all gall; that when I wey Each fillable I write or ſpeake, because Mine enemies with ſharpe and ſearching eyes Looke through & through me, caruing my poore labours Like an Anotomy: Oh heauens to ſee, That when my lines are meaſur'd out as ſtraight As euen Paralels, tis ſtrange that it still, Still some imagine they are drawne awry, the error is not mine, but in theyr eye, That cannot take proportions.

Cris. Horace, Horrace,
To ſtand within the shot of galling tongues,
Proues not your gilt, for could we write on paper,
Made of these turning leaues of heauen, the cloudes,
Or ſpeake with Angels tongues: yet wife men know,
That some would shake the head, tho Saints should sing,
Some ſnakes muſt hiffe, because they're bortie with ſtings,

Hor. Tis true.

Cris. Doe we not see fooles laugh at heauen? and mocke

C 3

The

The vnruffing of

The Makers workmanship, be not you grieu'd
If that which you molde faire, vpright and smooth,

Be skrewd a wry, made crooked, lame and vile,
By racking comments, and calumnious tongues,

So to be bit it rankles not : for innocence

May with a feather brush off the fouleft wrongs.

But when your daftard wit will strike at men
In corners, and in riddles folde the vices

Of your best friends, you muſt not take to heart,
If they take off all gilding from their pilles,

And onely offer you the bitter Coare.

Hor. Crispinus.

Cri. Say that you hane not ſworne vnto your Paper,
To blot her white cheekes with her dregs and bottome
Of your friends private vices: ſay you ſweare

Your loue and your aleageance to bright vertue
Makes you descend so low, as to put on

The Office of an Executioner,

Onely to strike off the head of ſinne,

Where ere you finde it ſtanding,

Say you ſweare;

And make damnation parcell of your oath,

That when your laſhing iestes make all men bleed;
Yet you whip none. Court, Citty, country, friends,

Foes, all muſt I mart alike; yet Court, nor Citty,

Nor foe, nor friend, dare winch at you; great pitty.

Dem. If you ſweare, dam me Faninus, or Crispinus,
Or to the law (Our kingdoms golden chaine)

To Poets dam me, or to Players dam me,

If I brand you, or you, tax you, ſcourge you;

I wonder then, that of ſiue hundred, ſoure hundred ſiue,

Should all point with their fingers in one instant

At one and the fame man?

Hor. Deare Faninus.

Dem.

the Humerous Poet.

Dem. Come, you cannot excuse it.

Hor. Heare me, I can —

Dem. You muſt daube on thisie collours then to hide it.

Cris. We come like your Phisitions, to purge

Your ſicke and dangerous minde of her diſeafe.

Dem. In troth we doe, out of our loues we come,
And not reuenge, but if you strike vs ſtill,

We muſt defend our reputations:

Our pens shall like our ſwords be alwayses ſheath'd,
Vnleſſe too much prouock't, Horace if then

They draw bloud of you, blame vs nor, we are men:
Come, let thy Maſe beare vp a smoother ſayle,

Tis the eaſeſt and the baſſt Arte to raile.

Hor. Deliuer me your hands, I loue you both,
As deare as my owne ſoule, prooue me, and when

I ſhall traduce you, make me the ſcorne of men.

Both. Enough, we are friends.

Cris. What reads Afinius?

Aſi. By my troth heer's an excellent comfortable booke,
it's moſt ſweet reading in it.

Dem. Why, what does it ſmell of Bubo?

Aſi. Mas it ſmels of Rose-leaes a little too.

Hor. Then it muſt needs be a ſweet booke, he would faire
perfume his ignorance.

Aſi. I warrant he had wit in him that pen'd it.

Cris. Tis good yet a ſoole will confefſe truth.

Aſi. The whoorſon made me meete with a hard ſtyle in
two or three places as I went ouer him.

Dem. I beleeuе thee, for they had need to be very lowe &
eaſe. Stiles of wit that thy braines goe ouer.

Enter Blunt and Tucca.

Blunt. Wher's this gallant? Morrow Gentlemen: what's
this deuife done yet Horace?

Her. Gods

The vntruising of

Hor. Godso, what meane you to let this fellow dog you into my Chamber?

Blun. Oh, our honest Captayne, come, prethee, let vs see.

Tuc. Why you baſtards of nine whoores, the Mules, why doe you walk heere in this gorgeous gallery of gallant menaſions, with that whooreſon poore lyme & hayre- rafcal? why—

Cris. O peace good Tucca, we are all ſworn e friends,

Tuc. Sworne, that Iudas yonder that walkes in rug, will dub you Knights ath poſte, if you ſerve vnder his band of oaths, the copper-fact rafcal will for a good ſupper out ſweare twelue dozen of graund Iuryes.

Blun. A pox ont, not done yet, and bin about it three dayes?

Horr. By Iesu within this houre, ſaue you Captayne Tucca.

Tuc. Dam thee, thou thin bearded Hermaphrodite, dam thee, Ile ſaue my ſelſe for one I warrant thee, is this thy Tub Diogines?

Hor. Yes Captaine this is my poore lodging.

Aſin. Morrow Captaine Tucca, will you whiffe this morning?

Tuc. Art thou there goates pizzel; no godamercy Caine I am for no whiffe's I, come her the sheep-skin-weauer, s' foote thou lookſt as, though th' adſt beg'd out of a Jayle: drawe, I meane not thy face (for tis not worth drawing) but drawe neere; this way, martch, follow your commaunder you ſcoundrell: So, thou muſt run of an errand for mee Mephos ſtophiles.

Hor. To doe you pleafure Captayne I will, but wher

Tuc. To hell, thou knowſt the way to hell my fire and brimstone, to hell; doſt ſtare my Sarſens head at Newgate? doſt

the Humerous Poet.

doſt gloate: Ile march through thy dunkirkes guts, for ſhooſing Ieſtes at me,

Hor. Deare Captaine but one word.

Tuc. Out bench-whiftler out, ile not take thy word for a dagger Pye: you browne-bread-mouth ſtinker, ile teach thee to turne me into Bankes his horſe, and to tell gentlemen I am a Iugler, and can ſhew trickes.

Hor. Captaine Tucca, but halſe a word in your eare.

Tuc. No you ſtaru'd rafcal, thou't bite off mine eares then, you muſt haue three or ſoure ſuites of names, when like a lowſie Pediculous vermin th'aſt but one ſuite to thy backe: you muſt be call'd Asper, and Criticus, and Horace, thy tytle's lonſer a reading then the Stile a the big Turkes: Asper, Criticus, Quintus, Horatius, Flacucs.

Hor. Captaine I know vpon what euen bafes I ſtand, and therefore—

Tuc. Bafes; wud the roague were but ready for me.

Blun. Nay prethee deare Tucca, come you ſhall ſhake—

Tuc. Not hands with great Hunkes there, not hands, but Ile ſhake the gull-groper out of his tan'd skinne.

Crisp. & Deme. For our ſake Captaine, nay prethee holde.

Tuc. Thou wrongſt heere a good honeſt rafcal Crispinus, and a poore varlet Demetrius Fanninus (bretheren in thine owne trade of Poetry) thou ſayſt Crispinus Sattin dublet is Reauel'd out heere, and that this penurious sneaker is out at elboes, goe two my good full mouth' d ban-dog, Ile ha thee friends with both.

Hor. With all my heart captaine Tucca, and with you too, Ile laye my handes vnder your feete, to keepe them from aking.

Omnes. Can you haue any more?

Tuc. Saſt thou me ſo, olde Coale come'doo't then; yet tis no matter neither, Ile haue thee in league firſt with theſe two

D

rowly

The vntrusting of

rowly powlies: they shal be thy Damons and thou their Pithya
affe; Crispinus shall giue thee an olde caft Sattin suite, and De-
metrius shall write thee a Scene or two, in one of thy strong
garlicke Comedies; and thou shall take the guilt of confi-
ence for't, and sweare thy thine owne lad, till thine owne:
thou neuer yet fels'nto the hands of Sattin, didst?

Hor. Neuer Captaine I thanke God.

Tuc. Goe too, thou shall now King Gorboduck, thou shall,
becaus he ha thce damn'd, Ile ha thce all in Sattin: Asper,
Criticus, Quintus, Horatius, Flaccus, Crispinus shall doot, thou
shall doot, they re apparant of Helicon, thou shall doot.

Aſi. Mine Ingle weare an olde caft Sattin suite.

Tuc. I wafer-face your Ningle.

Aſi. If he carry the minde of a Gentleman, he'll ſcorne it
at's heeles.

Tuc. Mary muffe, my man a ginger-bread, will eate any
ſmall coale?

Aſi. No Captaine, wod you ſhould well know it, great
coale ſhall not fill my bellie.

Tuc. ſcorne it, doft ſcorne to be arreſted at one of his olde
Suites?

Hor. No Captaine, Ile weare any thing.

Tuc. I know thou wilt, I know th'art an honest low minded
Pigmey, for I ha ſene thy ſhoulders lapt in a Plaiers old caſt
Cloake, like a Slic knaue as thou art; and when thou ranſt mad
for the death of Horatio: thou borrowed ſt a gowne of Rofci-
us the Stager, (chat honest Nicodemus) and ſent it home low-
ſie, didst not Respond, didst not?

Blun. So, no, no more of this, within this houre.

Hor. If I can found retreate to my wits, with whom this
leader is in skirmish, Ile end within this houre.

Tuc. What wut endt wut hang thy ſelſe now? has he not
writ Finis yet Iacke? what will he bee ſſteene weekes about
this Coskattices egge too? has hee not cackeld yet? not
laide

the Humerous Poet

laide yet?

Blun. Not yet, hee ſweares hee will within this houre.

Tuc. His wittes are somewhat hard bound: the Puncker
his Mufe has fore labour ere the whoore bee deliuered: the
poore saffron-cheeke Sun-burnt Gipſie wantes Philicke; giue
the hungrie-face pudding-pye-eater ten Pilles: ten ſhillings
my faire Angelica, they'll make his Mufe as yare as a tum-
bler.

Blu. He shall not want for money if heele write.

Tuc. Goe by Ieronimo, goe by; and heere, drop the ten
ſhillings into this Bafon; doe, drop, when Iacker: hee shall call
me his Mccenas; beſides, Ile dam vp's Ouen-mouth for rayl-
ing at's: So, it right Iacke: it ſterling: it fall off now to the
vauward of yonder ſoure Stinkers, and aske alowde if wee
shall goe: the Knight shall defray Iacke, the Knight
when it comes to Summa totaalas, the Knyght, the
Knight.

Blu. Well Gentlemen, we'll leaue you, shall we goe Cap-
taine? good Horace make some haſt.

Hor. He put on wings.

Aſin. I neuer ſawe mine Ingle ſo daſht in my life be-
fore.

Cris. Yes once Aſinius.

Aſi. Mas you ſay true, hee was daſht worſe once going
(in a rainy day) with a ſpeech to'th Tilt-yard, by Gods
lyd has call'd him names, a dog would not put vp, that had a-
ny discreation.

Tuc. Holde, holde vp thy hand, I ha ſene the day thou
didst not ſcorne to holde vp thy golſes: ther's a ſouldiers
Sput-royall, twelue pence: Stay, becaufe I know thou canſt
not write without quick ſluer; vp agen, this goll agen, I giue
thee double preſſe-money: Stay, becaufe I know thou haſt a
noble head, Ile deuide my Crowne, ô royall Porrex, ther's a

D2

The vntrusting of

teston more; goe, thou and thy Mufe munch, doe, munch;
come my deare Mandrake, if's keldring fall not to decay, thou
shalt florish: farewell my sweete Amadis de Gaule, farewell.

Hor. Deare Captaine.

Tue. Come lacke,

Dea. Nay Captaine flay, we are of your band.

Tue. March faire then:

Cri. Horace farewell, adue Aſinius

Exeunt.

Aſi. Ningle lets goe to some Tauerne, and dine together,
for my ſtomackeriles at this ſcuruy leather Captaine.

Hor. No, they haue choakt me with mine owne difgrace,
Which (fooles) ile spit againe euen in your face.

Exeunt.

Enter Sir Quintilian horthofe, Sir Adam, Sir
Vaughan, Mineuer with ſeruinger men.

Sir quinti. Knaues, Varlets, what Lungis, giue me a dozen
of ſtooles there.

Sir Van. Sefu pleſſe vs all in our ſiue, ſences a peecce, what
meane yee fir Kintilian Sorthoſe to ſtand ſo much on a dozent
ſtooles, heere be not preechcs inſeuе to hyde a dozen ſtooles,
vnleſſe you wifſe ſome of vs preake his finnes.

Sir quin. I ſay fir Vaughan no ſhinne ſhal be broken heers
what lungis, a chayre with a ſtronge backe, and a ſoft bellie,
great with childe, with a cuſhion for this reuerend Lady.

Mineu. God neuer gaue me the grace to be a Lady, yet
I ha beene worſcript in my ſcience to my face a thouſand
times, I cannot denye fir Vaughan, but that I haue all imple-
ments belonging to the vocation of a Lady.

Sir Vaughan. I truſt miſtris Mincuer you haue all a honeſt
oman ſhud haue?

O man, what a man!

Min. Yes perſie, as my Coach, and my fan, and a man
or

or

the Humorous Poet.

or two that ferue my turne, and other things which Ide bee
loath euery one ſhould ſee, becauſe they ſhal not be common,
I am in manner of a Lady in one point.

Siv. Vaug. I pray miſtris Mineuers, let vs all ſee that point for
our better vndeſtanding.

Mr. For I ha ſome thinges that were fetcht (I am ſure) as
farre as ſome of the Low Countries, and I payde ſweetly for
them too, and they tolde me they were good for Ladies.

Sir qui. And much good do't thy good heart faire widow
with them.

Min. I am fayre enough to bee a Widdow, Sir Quintilan.

Sir Vaug. In my ſoule and ſcience, and well ſauoured
enough to be a Lady: heere is fir Kintilian Sorthoſe, and heere
is fir Adam Prickſhaft, a ſentleman of a very good braine, and
well headed: you ſee he ſhootes his bolt ſildome, but when
Adam lets goe, he hits: and heere is fir Vaughan ap Rees, and
I beleeue if God ſud take vs all from his mercy, as I hope hee
will not yet; we all three loue you, at the bottome of our bel-
lyes, and our hearts: and therefore miſtris Mineuer, if you
pleafe, you ſhall be knighted by one of vs, whom you fall de-
fire to put into your deuice and minde.

Min. One I muſt haue fir Vaughan.

Siv quu. And one of vs thou ſhalt haue widow.

Min. One I muſt haue, for now euery one ſeeke to crow-
ouer me.

Siv Vaug. By Sefu and if I finde any crowing ouer you, & he
were a cocke (come out as farre as in Turkeys country) tis poſ-
fible to cut his combe off.

Min. I muſe why fir Adam Prickſhaft flyes ſo farre from
vs.

Sir Adam. I am in a browne ſtudy, my deare, if loue ſhould
bee turned into a beaſt, what beaſt hee were fit to bee turned
into.

Sir quint.

The vntrusting of

Sir Quint. I thinke Sir Adam an Affe, because of his bea-
ting.

Min. I thinke (sauing your reuerence) Sir Adam a puppy,
for a dog is the most louing creature to a Christian that is, vnles
it be a childe.

Sir Ad. No, I thinke if loue should bee turn'd away, and
goe to serue any beaſt, it muſt bee an Ape, and my rea-
ſon—

Sir Vaughn. Sir Adam, an Ape?ther's no more reaſon in an
Ape, than in a very plaine Monkey; for an Ape has no tayle,
but we all know, or tis our duty to know, loue has two tailes;
In my ſuſdment, if loue be a beaſt, that beaſt is a bunce of red-
dis; for a bunce of Reddis is wife meate without Mutton, and
ſo is loue.

Mi. Ther's the yawning Captaine (sauing your reuerence
that has ſuch a fore mouth) would one day neeces perſwade
me, that loue was a Rebato; and his reaſon was (sauing your
reuerence) that a Rebato was worne out with pinning too of-
ten; and ſo he ſaid loue was.

Sir Vaughn. And Maſter Captaine Tucca ſayd wifely too,
loue is a Rebato indeede: a Rebato muſt be poaked; now
many women weare Rebatoes, and many that weare Re-
batoes—

Sir Adam. Muſt be poakt.

Sir Vau. Sir Adam Prickſhaft has hit the cloute. Muſicke
Sir qui. The Muſicke ſpeakes to vs, we'll haue a daunce be-
fore dinner.

Enter Sir Walter Terrill, Cæleftine, Blunt, Crispinus,
and Demetrius, every one with a Lady.

All. The King's at hand.

Ter. Father the King's at hand.
Muſicke talke lowder, that thy filuer voice,
May reach my Soueraignes cares.

Sir Vau. I pray doc ſo, Muſitions beſtir your fingers, that
you

the Humerous Poet.

you my haue vs all by the eares.

Sir quin. Has Grace comes, a Hallvarlets, where be my
myn? blow, blow your colde Trumpets till they ſwreat; tickle
them till they found agen:

Blunt. Beſt goe meete his Grace.

All. Agreed.

Sir Vaughn. Pray all ſtand bare, as well men as women : Sir
Adam is beſt you hide your head for ſeare your wife braines
take key-colde: on afore Sir Kin: ilian; Sentlemen fall in before
the Ladyes, in ſeemely order and fashion; ſo this is come-
lyc.

Enter Trumpets founding, they goe to the doors, and meete the King and his Traine, and whilst the Trumpets found the King is welcome'd, kiffes the Bride, and honor's the Bride—
groome in dumber ſhew.

King. Nay if your pleatures ſhrinke at fight of vs,
We shall repent this labour, Miftris Bride
You that for ſpeaking but one word to day,
Muſt loose your head at night; you that doe ſtand
Taking your laſt leaue of virginity;
You that being well begun, muſt not be Maide:
Winne you the Ladies, the men will wooe,
Our ſelſe will leade my blushing Bride with you.

Sir Vaughan. God bleſſe your Maiety, and ſend you to be
along King William Rufus ouer vs, when he ſees his times &
pleatures.

King. Wee thanke you good Sir Vaughan, wee will take
your meaning not your words.

Sir quint. Lowde Muſicke there.

Sir Vau. I am glad your Maiety will take any thing at my
hands; my words I truſt in Sefu, are ſpoken betweene my ſoule
and body together, and haue neither Felonies nor treaſons a-
bout them, I hope.

Kim. Good words Sir Vaughan, I prethee giue vs leaue.

Sir Vau. Good

The vntrusting of

Vang. Good words fir Vau han: that's by interpretation in
english, you'r belt giue good words fir Vaughan : god and his
Anfells bleffe me, what ayles his maieftye to be so tedious and
difficult in his right mindes now, I holde my life that file raf-
call-rymer Horace hath puzd and puzd aboue a hundred merie
tales and lyce, into his great and princely eares: by god and ha
vfe it, his being Phœbus prieft cannot faue him, if hee were his
Sapline too ide precafe vpon his coxcomb : good lord bleffe me
out of his maiefties celler: King Williams, I hope tis none of-
fences to make a supplication to god a mightie for your long
life: for by thes I haue no meaning in't in all the world, vnles
rafcalls be here that will haue your grace take shalke for shees,
and vnleſſe Horace has sent lyce to your maiefty.

King Horace, what's he fir Vaughan?

Vaugh; As hard-fauourd a fellow as your maieftie has feene
in a sommers day: he does pen, an't pleafe your grace, toyes
that will not pleafe your grace; tis a Poet, we call them Bardes
in our Countrie, finges ballads and rymes, and I was mightie
fealous, that his Inke which is blacke and full of gall, had bro-
ught my name to your maieftie, and so lifted vp your hye and
princely coller.

King I neither know that Horace, nor mine anger,
If as thou faſt our highand princely choller
Be vp, wee'l tread it downe with daunces; Ladies
Loofe not your men; faire meaſures muſt be tread,
When by ſo faire a dauncer you are lead.

Vaugh. Miltris Minuèr :

Min perdie fir Vaughan I cannot dance.

Vaugh. Perdie by this Minuier cappe, and acording to his
maſeſties leaue too, you ſall be put in among theiſe Ladies, &
daunce ere long I treſt in god, the ſaking of the ſeetes.

They daunce a straine, and whilst the others keepe on, the
King and Celeſtine ſtay.

King ¡That

the Humerous Poet.

Kin. That turne faire Bride ſhews you muſt turne at night,
In that ſweet daunce which iteales away delight.

Cæ. Then pleasure is a theife, a ſit, a ſeauer.

Kin. True, he's the theieſe, but women the receiuer.

Another change, they fall in, the vext goe on.

Kin. This change ſweet Maide, faies you muſt change
As Virgins doe. (your life,

Cal. Virgins nere change their life,
She that is win'd a maide, is Maide and wife.

Kin. But ſhe that dyes a Maide;—

Cæ. Thrice happy then.

Kin. Leades Apes in hell.

Cal. Better leade Apes then men.

At this third inge they end, and ſhe meetes the King.

Kin. Well met.

Cal. Tis ouertaken.

Kin. Why, faire ſweet?

Cal. Women are ouertaken when they meete?

Kin. Your bloud ſpeakes like a coward.

Cal. It were good,

If every Maiden bluſh, had ſucha bloud.

Kin. A coward bloud, why whom should maidens ſcare?

Cæ. Men, were Maides cowards, they'd not come so nere,
My Lord the Meaſure's done, I pleade my duetic.

Kin. Onelie my heart takes meaſure of thy beautie.

Sir quin, Now by my hofe I ſware, that's no deepe oath,
This was a fine ſweet earth-quake gentle moou'd,
By the soft winde of whispring Silkes: come Ladies,
Whofe icynts are made out of the dauncing Orbes,
Come, follow me, walke a colde meaſure now;

E

In

The vntrusting of

In the Brides Chamber; your hot beautie's mele,
Take euerie one her fan, giue them their places,
And waue the Northerne winde vpon your faces.

Celestine and all the Ladyes doing obeyſance to the King, who only kisseſ her, Exeunt, Short-hoſe manning them, the Gallants ſtand aloofe.

Kin. Sir Walter Terrill,

Ter. My confirmed Leige

Ki. Beautie out of her bountie, thee hath lent,
More then her owne with liberall extent.

Ter. What meanes my Lord?

Kin. Thy Bride, thy choice, thy wife,
She that is now thy fadom, thy new world,
That brings thee people, and makes little ſubieſt;
Kneele at thy feete, obay in euerie thing,
So euerie Father is a private King.

Ter. My Lord, her beauty is the poorest part,
Chieſlie her vertues did endowe my heart.

Kin. Doe not back-bite her beauties, they all ſhine,
Brighter on thee, because the beames are thine,
To thee more faire, to others her two lips
Shew like a parted Moone in thine Eclipſe;
That glaunce, which louers mongſt them ſelues deuife,
Walkes as inuſible to others cies :
Giue me thine eare.

Cris. What meanes the King?

Dem. Tis a quaint ſtraine.

Ter. My Lord.

Kin. Thou darſt not Wat.

Ter. She is too courſe an obieſt for the Court.

Kin. Thou darſt not Vat:

Ter. Let to night be to morrow,
For shee's not yet mine owne.

King. Thou

the Humorous Poet.

Kin. Thou darſt not Wat

Ter. My Lord I dare, but—

King. But I see thou darſt not.

Ter. This night.

King. Yea, this night, tush thy minde repaires not,
The more thou talk'st of night, the more thou darſt not;
Thus farre I tend, I wod but turne this ſpheare,
Of Ladies eyes, and place it in the Court,
Where thy faire Bride ſhould for the Zodiacke ſhine,
And euery Lady eſſe ſit for a figne.

But all thy thoughts are yellow, thy sweet bloud
Rebels, th'art icalous Wat; thus with proude reuels
To emmulate the masking firmament,
Where Starres dance in the siluer Hall of heauen,
Thy pleasure ſhould be ſeaſoned, and thy bed
Relish thy Bride, But, but thou darſt not Vat.

Ter. My Loord I dare.

Kin. Speake that agen.

Ter. I dare.

Kin. Agen kinde Vat, and then I know thou darſt.

Ter. I dare and will by that ioynt holy oath,
Which she and I ſwore to the booke of heauen:
This very day when the ſurueying Sunne,
Riz like a witnes to her faith and mine,
By all the loyalty that ſubieſts owe
To Maietty, by that, by this, by both,
I ſweare to make a double guarded oath,
This night vntainted by the touch of man,
She shall a Virgin come.

Kin. To Court: Ter. To Court.
I know I tooke a woman to my wife,
And I know women to be earthly Moones,
That neuer ſhine till night, I know they change
Their Orbes (their husbands) and in ſickiſh hearts,

E 2

Steale

The vntrusting of

Steale to their fweete Endimions, to be cur'd
With better Phisicke, sweeter dyet drinkes,
Then home can minifter : all this I know
Yet know not all, but give me leaue O King,
To boast of mine, and faie that I know none;
I haue a woman but not such a one.

Kin. Why, she's confirmed in thee; I now approoue her,
If conftant in thy thoughts who then can mooue her?
& enter Sir Quintilian.

Sir qui. Wilt please your Highnes take your place within,
The Ladies attend the Table.

Kin. Igoe good Knight, Wath thy oath.

Ter. My Lord,
My oath's my honour, my honour is my life,
My oath is conftant, so I hope my wife.

Exeunt.

Enter Horace in his true attyre, Afinius bearing his Cloake.

Aſi. If you flye out Ningle, heer's your Cloake; I thinke it
raines too,

Ho. Hide my shoulders in't.

Aſi. Troth, so th'adft neeDE, for now thou art in thy Pee
and Kue; thou haſt ſuch a villanous broad backe, that I war-
rant th'art able to beare away any mans ieſtes in England.

Hor. It's well Sir, I haſt ſtrength to beare yours mee thinkes;
fore God you are growne a piece of a Critift, ſince you fell in-
to my hands : ah little roague, your wit has pickt vp her crums
prettie and well.

Aſi. Yes faith, I finde my wit a the mending hand Ningle;
troth I doe not thinke but to proceede Poetafter next Com-
mencement, if I haue my grace perfectlie: euerie one that con-
fer with me now, ſtop their nose in merriment, and ſweare I
smell somewhat of Horace; one calles me Horaces Ape, ano-
ther Horaces Beagle, and ſuch Poeticall names it paffes. I was
but

the Humerous Poet.

but at Barbers laſt day, and when he was rencing my ſace, did
but crie out, fellow thou makſt me Commue too long, & ſayes
he ſayes hyee, Matter Afinius Bubo, you haue eene Horaces
wordes as right as if he had ſpit them into your mouth.

Hor. VVell, away deare Afinius, deliuer this letter to the
young Gallant Druſo, he that fell so strongly in loue with me,
yeſternight.

Aſin. It's a fweete Muske-cod, a pure ſpied-gull; by this
feather I pittie his Ingenusties; but haſt writ all this ſince Nin-
gle? I know thou haſt a good running head and thou lifteſt,

Hor. Foh come, your great belly'd wit mult long for euery
thing too; why you Rooke, I haue a ſet of letters readie ſtarcht
to my hands, which to any fresh ſuited gallant that but newlie
enters his name into my rowle, I ſend the next morning, ere
his tena clocke dreame has rize from him, onelie with clap-
ing my hand to't, that my Nouice ſhall ſtart, ho and his haire
ſtand an end, when hee ſees the ſodaine ſlath of my writing;
what you prettie Diminitive roague, we muſt haue false ſiers
to amaze theſe ſpangle babies, theſe true heires of Ma. Iuſtice
Shallow.

Aſi. I wod alwaies haue thee ſawce a foole thus.

Hor. Away, and, ſtay: heere be Epigrams vpon Tucca, di-
vulge theſe among the gallants; as for Crispinus, that Crif-
pin-affe and Fannius his Play-dreſſer; who (to make the
Mufes belecue, their ſubieſts eares were ſtaru'd, and that there
was a dearth of Poefie) cut an Innocent Moore i'th middle, to
ſerue him in twice; & when he had done, made Poules-worke
of it, as for theſe Twynnes, theſe Poet-apes:
Their Mimicke trickes ſhall ſerue

With mirth to feaſt our Mufe, whilſt their owne ſtarue.

Aſin. VVell Ningle Ile trudge, but where's the Ran-
deuow?

Hr. VVell thought off, marie at Sir Vaughans lodging
the VVelfsh knight, I haue compoſ'd a loue-letter for the gal-
lants

E 3

The entrusting of

lants wor'ship, to his Rofamond: the second, Miftris Miniuer,
becaus' he does not thinke so foundly of his lame English as
he could with; I ha gull'd his Knight-ship here to his face, yet
haue giuen charge to his winking vnderstanding not to per-
ceue it: nay Gods so, away deare Bubo.

As I am gone.

Exit.

Hor. The Muses birdes the Bees were hi'u'd and fled,
Vs in our cradle, thereby prophecying's

That we no learned eares should sweetly sing,

But to the vulger and adulterate braine,

Should loath to proſtitute our Virgin straine.

No, our Sharpe pen shall keep the world in awe,

Horace thy Poetie, worm wood wreathes shall weare,

We hunt not for mens loues but for their feare.

Exit.

Enter Sir Adam and Miniuer.

Min. O Sir Adam Prickſaft, you are a the bow hand
wide, a long yard I affure you : and as for Suitors, truelie they
all goe downe with me, they haue all one flat anſwere.

Sir Adam. All Widdow ? not all, let Sir Adam bee your
first man fitl,

Enter Sir Quintilian.

Sir quin. Widdow, art flolne from Table? I Sir Adam,
Are you my riuall? well, flye faire y'are beſt;

The King's exceeding merrie at the banquet,
He makes the Bride bluſh with his merrie words

That run into her eares; ah he's a wanton,
Yet I dare truſt her, had he twentie tongues,

And euern tongue a Stile of Maieſtie.

Now Widdow, let me tell thee in thine eare,

I loue thee Widdow, by this ring; nay weare it,

I loue thee Widdow, by this ring; nay weare it,
Mincu. Ile come in no rings pardie, Ile take no golde.

Mincu. Ile come in no rings pardie, Ile take no golde.
Sir Adam, Harke

Sir Adam, Harke

the Humorous Poet.

Sir Ada, Harke in thine eare, take me, I am no golde.

Enter Sir Vaughan and Peter Flash.

Sir Vau, Maſter Peter Flash, I will grope about Sir Quintilian, for his terminations touching and confidering you.

Flash. I thanke your Worship, for I have as good a ſto-
macke to your Worship as a man could with.

Sir Vau, I hope in God a mightie, I ſhall fill your ſtomacke.
Maſter Peter: What two vpon one Sentlemen; Miftris Miniuer, much good doo't you Sir Adam.

Sir quin. Sir Vaughan, haue you din'd well Sir Vaughan?

Sir Vau, As good ſeere as would make any hungrie man
(anda were in the vileſt prifon in the world) eate and hee had
anie ſtomacke: One word Sir Quintilian in hugger mugger,
heere is a Sentleman of yours. Maſter Peter Flash, is teſirous
to haue his blew coate pul'd ouer his eares; and—

Flash. No Sir, my petition runs thus, that your worſhippe
would truſt mee, out of doores, and that I may follow Sir
Vaughan.

Sir Vau. I can tellyou Maſter Flash, and you follow mee I
goe verie ſaſt, I thinke in my confcience, I am one of the ligh-
ted knights in England.

Flash. It's no matter Sir, the Flashes haue euer binknowne
to be quicke and light enough.

Sir quin. Sir Vaughan, he ſhal follow you, he ſhall dog you
good Sir Vaughan.

Enter Horace walking.

Sir Vau. Why then Peter Flash I will fet my ſoure marks
ay care, and a blew coate vpon you.

Fla. God amercy to your worſhip, I hope you ſhall neuer
repent for me.

Sir Vau. You beare the face of an honest man, for you bluſh
passing well Peter, I will quench the flame out of your name,
and

The vntrufsing of

and you shall be chriftned Peter Salamander.

*Peter Flash.* The name's too good for me, I thanke your
worship.

*Sir Vau.* Are you come Mafter Horace,you ſent mee the Coppie of your letters countenance and I did write and read it;your wittes truelie haue done verie valliantlie: tis a good inditements you ha put in enough for her ha you not?

*Hor.* According to my inſtructions.

*Sir Vau.* Tis paſſing well, I pray Maſter Horace walke a little beſide your ſelfe,I will turne vpon you incontinent.

*Sir quin.* VVhat Gentleman is this in the Mandilian,a fol-
dyer?

*Sir Vau.* No,tho he has a very bad face for a ſouldier,yet he
has as desperate a wit as euer an Scholler went to cuſſes for;
tis a Gentleman Poet he has made rimes called I halamimums,
for M.Pridegroome,on vrd widdow.

*Sir quin.* Is this her welcome Sir,your name,pray you walke not ſo ſtatelie but be acquainted with me boldlie;your name Sir?

*Hor.* Quintus,Horacius,Flaccus.

*Sir Quint.* Good Maſter Flappus welcome.

*Sir Vau.* Miftris Miniuers, one vrde in your corner heere;
I deſire you to breake my armes heere, and read this Paper,
you shall feele my mindeſand affeſtions in it, at full and at
large.

*Mini.* Ile receiue no Louelibels perdy, but by word a
mouth.

*Sir Vaughan.* By Sefu tis no libell, for heere is my hand
to it.

*Mini.* Ile ha no hand in it Sir Vaughan, Ile not deale
with you.

*Sir Vau.* Why then widdow,Ile tellyou by word a mouth
my deuices.

*Mini.* Your

the Humerous Poet.

*Mi.* Your deuices come not neere m y mouth Sir Vaughan.
an perdy,I was vpon a time in the way to marriage, but now I
am turn'd a tother ſide,I ha ſworne to leade a ſingle and ſim-
ple life.

*Sir Adam.* She has anſwer'd you Sir Vaughan.

*Sir Van.* Tistruе, but at wrong weapons Sir Adam; will you be an Affe Miftris Miniuers?

*Min.* If I be you ſhall not ride me.

*Sir Vaug.* A ſimple life! by Sefu tis the life of a ſoole, a ſim-
ple life !

*Sir qui.* How now Sir Vaughan?

*Sir Vaughn.* My braines has a little fine quawme come vn-
der it,and therefore Sir Adam,and Sir Quintilian, and miftris
Miniuers caps God bo'y.

*All.* Good Sir Vaughan.

*Sir Vaughn.* Maſter Horace, your inuentions doe her no
good in the Vniuerſalities; yet heere is two ſhillings for your
wittes; nay by Sefu you ſhall take it if't were more: yonder
bald Adams, is put my noſe from his ioynt; but Adam I will be
euen to you: this is my cogitations, I will indite the Ladies &
Miniuers caps to a dinner of Plumbes, and I shall deſire you
M.Horace, to ſpeake or raile; you can raile I hope in God a
mighty.

*Hor.* You meane to ſpeake bitterlie:

*Sir Vaughan.* Right, to ſpitte bitterly vpon baldnes,or the
chinnies of haire;you fall eate downe Plumbes to sweeten your
mouth, and heere is a good Anſell to defend you: Peter Sa-
lamander follow me.

*Flash.* With hue and crie and you will Sir.

*Sir Vau.* Come M,Horace,I will goe pull out theLadies,
Ho. And Ile ſet out my wits,Baldnes the Theame?

*My words ſhallflow hye in a filuer ſtreame.*

*Exeunt.*

*Enter Tucca brushing off the crumbes.*

*Tuc.* Wher's my moſt coſtly and ſumptuous Shorthoſe?

F

*Sir qui. Is.*

The vntrusting of

Sir Quint. Is the King risen from table Captaine Tucca?

Tuc. How risen no my noble Quintilian, kings are greater men then we Knights and Cavalliers, and therefore must eate more then lesse persons; Godamercy good Diues for these crummes: how now, has not Frier Tucke din'd yet? he falles so hard to that Oyster-pye yonder.

Sir quin. Oyster-pye Captaine, ha ha, he loues her, and I loue her and feare both: shall goe without her.

Tuc. Doft loue her, my finest and first part of the Mirrour of Knighthood: hange her: she lookes like a bottle of ale, when the corke flyes out and the Ale fomes at mouth, shee lookes my good button-breech like the signe of Capricorne, or like Tiborne when it is cover'd with snow.

Sir quin. All's one for that, she has a vizard in a bagge, will make her looke like an Angell; I wod I had her, vpon condition, I gaue thee this chaine manlie Tucca.

Tuc. I? faift thou so Frisking? I haue her ath' hip for some causes, I can found her, she'll come at my becke.

Sir quin. Wod I could found her too Noble comman-der.

Tuc. Thou shalt doot; that Lady ath' Lake is thine Sir Tri-fram, lend mee thy chaine, doe, lend it, Ile make her take it as a token, Ile lincke her vnto thee; and thou shall weare her gloue in thy Worshipfull hatte, like to a leather brooch; Nay and thou miſtruſts thy coller, be tyed in't still.

Sir quin, Miſtruſt Captaine: no, heere tis; give it her if she'll take it, or weare it thy ſelſe, if shee'll take mee, Ile watch him well enough too.

Tuc. No more, Ile shoote away yonder Prickſhaft, and then belabour her, and flye you after yonder Cucko: doft heere me my noble Gold-finch: —

Sir qui. No more.

Tuc. How doft thou my ſmug Belimperia: how doſt thou? hands off my little bald Derricke, hands off: harke hether Su-

ſanna,

the Humorous Poet.

ſanna, beware a these two wicked Elders, shall I ſpeake well or ill of these?

Min. Nay, eene as you pleafe Captaine, it shall be at your choice.

Tuc. Why well faid, my nimble Short-hoſe.

Sir quin. I heare her, I heare her.

Tuc. Art angry father time: art angrie because I tooke mother-Winter alide: Ile holde my life thou art strucke with Cupids Birde-bolt, my little prickſhaft, art? doſt loue that mother Mumble-cruſt, doſt thou? doſt long for that whim-wham?

Sir Ada. Wod I were as free to lye with her, as to loue her.

Tuc. Haue I found thee my learned Dunce, haue I found thee: If I might ha my wil, thou shouldst not put thy spoone into that bumble-broth (for indeede Ide tafe her my ſelſe) no thou shouldst not; yet if her beautie blinde thee, she's thine, I can doot, thou heardst her ſay eene now, it should bee at my choice.

Sir Ada. She did so, worke the match and Ile beſtow—

Tuc. Not a ſilke point vpon mee, little Adam ſhee shall bee thy Eeue, for lesſe then an Apple; but ſend, bee wife, ſend her ſome token, ſhee's greedie, ſhee shall take it, doe, ſend, thou shall ſticke in her (Prickſhaft) but ſend.

Sir Adam. Heer's a purſe of golde, thinke you that wil be accepted?

Tuc. Go to, it shall bee accepted, and twere but filuer, when that Flea-bitten Short-hoſe ſteppes hence: vanish too, and let mee alone with my Grannam in Gutter-Lane there, and this purſe of golde doe, let me alone.

Sir quint. The King, gods Lord, I doe forget the King; Widdow, thinke on my wordes, I muſt be gone To waite his riling, Ile returne anone.

Sir Ad. Stay Sir Quintilian, Ile be a waiter too.

F 2

Sir quin, Widdow

The vntrusting of

Sir quinti. Widdow we'll trust that Captaine there with you. Exeunt.

Tuc. Now, now, mother Bunch how doft thou? what doft frowne Queene Gwynier, doft wrinkle, what made thefe paire of Shittle-cockes heere? what doe they fumble for? Ile ha none of these Kites fluttering about thy carkas, for thou fhalt bee my West Indyes, and none but trim Tucca fhall difcouer thee.

Min. Difcouer me, difcouer what thou canst of me.

Tuc. What I can? thou knowſt what I can difcouer, but I will not lay thee open to the world.

Min. Lay me open to the world?

Tuc. No I will not my moldie decay'd Charing-croſſe, I will not,

Mi. Hang thee patch-pannell, I am none a thy Charing-croſſe: I ſtorne to be Croſſe to ſuch a ſcab as thou makſt thy ſelfe.

Tuc. No, tis thou makſt me ſo, my Long Meg a Westminſter, thou breedt a ſcab, thou—

Min. I dam thee filthie Captaine, dam thy ſelfe.

Tuc. My little deuill a Dow-gate, Ile dam thee, (thou knowſt my meaning) Ile dam thee vp; my wide mouth at Bishops-gate.

Min. Wod I might once come to that damming.

Tuc. Why thou ſhalt, my ſweet dame Annis a cleere thou ſhalt, for Ile drowne my ſelfe in thee; I, for thy lowe, Ile finke, I, for thee.

Min. So thou wilt I warrant, in thy abhominable finness; Lord, Lord, howe many filthy wordes haſt thou to anſwere for.

Tuc. Name one Madge-owlet, name one, Ile anſwer for none; my words shall be foorth comming at all times, & ſhall anſwer for them ſelues; my nimble Cat-a-mountaine: they shall Siflie Bum-trincket, for Ile giue thee none but Sugercandie.

the Humerous Poet.

candie wordes, I will not Puffe: goody Tripe-wife, I will not.

Min. VWhy doſt call mee ſuch horrible vngodlie names then?

Tuc. Ile name thee no more Mother Red-cap vpon paine of death, if thou wilt Grimalkin, Maggot-a-pye I will not.

Min. Wod thou shouldst wel know, I am no Maggot, but a meere Gentlewoman borne.

Tuc. I know thou art a Gentle, and Ile nibble at thee, thou ſhalt be my Cap-a-maintenance, & Ile carrie my naked ſword before thee, my reuerend Ladie Lettice-cap.

Min. Thou ſhalt carry no naked ſwords before me to fright me, thou—

Tuc. Go too, let not thy tongue play so hard at hot-cockles; for, Gammer Gurton, I meane to bee thy needle, I loue thee, I loue thee, becauſe thy teeth ſland like the Arches vnder London Bridge, for thou't not turne Satyre & bite thy husband; No, come my little Cub, doe not ſcorne mee becauſe I goe in Stag, in Puffe, heer's veluet too; thou feets I am worth thus much in bare veluet.

Min. I ſcorne thee not, not I.

Tuc. I know thou doſt not, thou ſhat ſee that I could march with two or three hundred linkes before me, looke here, what? I could ſhow golde too, if that would tempt thee, but I will not make my ſelfe a Gold-ſmithes ſtall I; I ſcorne to goe chain'd my Ladie ath Hofpitall, I doe; yet I will and muſt bee chain'd to thee.

Min. To mee, why Maſter Captaine, you know that I haue my choife of three or ſoure payre of Knights, and thereſore haue ſmall reaſon to flye out I know not how in a man of war.

Tuc. A man a warre? come thou knowſt not what a worſhip full focation is to be a Captaines wife: three or four payre of Knights? why doſt heare Ioane-a-bedlam, Ile enter into bond,

F 3

The vntruising of

bond to be dub'd by what day thou wilt, when the next acti-
on is layde vpon me, thou shalt be Ladified.

Min. You know I am offered that by halfe a dozen.

Tuc. Thou shalt little Miniuer, thou shall, He ha this frock
turn'd into a foote-cloth; and thou shall be carted, drawne
I meane, Coacht, Coacht, thou shall ry de ligga-logge; a
Hood shall flap vp and downe heere, and this shipskin-cap
shall be put off.

Mint. Nay perdie, Ile put off my cap for no mans plea-
fure.

Tuc. Wut thou be proude little Lucifer? well, thou shall goe how thou wilt Maide-marian; come, buffe thy little Anthony now, now, my cleane Cleopatria; so, so, goe thy waies Alexis secrets, th'aft a breath as sweet as the Rose, that growes by the Beare-garden, as sweete as the proud'ft heade a Garlicke in England: come, wut march in, to the Gentle folkes?

Mini. Nay trulie Captaine you shall be my leader.

Tuc. I say Mary Ambree, thou shall march formoft,
Because Ile marke how broad th'art in the heeles.

Mini. Perdie, I will be set ath laft for this time.

Tuc. Why then come, we'll walke arme in arme,
As tho we were leading one another to Newgate.

Enter Blunt, Crispinus, and Demetrius, with papers, laughing

Cri. Mine's of a fashion, cut out quite from yours.

Dem. Mine has the sharpeft tooth, yonder he is.

Blu. Captaine Fucca.

All hold up papers.

Tuc. How now? I cannot stand to read supplications now
Crif. They're bitter Epigrams compof'd on you
By Horace.

Dem. And disperſt amongst the gallants
In feuerall coppies, by Afinius Bubo.

Tuc. By

the Humorous Poet.

Tuc, By that liue Eele're read, Lege Legito, read thou lacke.

Blu. Tucca's growne monſtrous, how? rici? that I feare,
He's to be feene for money euery where.

Tuc. Why true, shall not I get in my debts, nay and the
roague write no better I care not, farewell blacke lacke fare-
well.

Cri. But Captaine heer's a nettle.

Tuc. Sting me, doe.

Cri. Tucca's exceeding tall and yet not hye,
He fights with skill, but does moſt vilye hye.

Tuc. Right, for heere I lye now, open, open, to make my
aduerſarie come on; and then Sir, heere am I in's boſome: nay
and this be the worſt, I shall hug the poore honest face-maker,
Ile loue the little Atheiſt, when he writes after my commenda-
tion, another whip? come yerke me.

Dem. Tucca will bite, how? growne Satiricall,
No, he bites tables, for he feedes on all.

Tuc. The whoreſon clouen-foote deuill in mans apparell
There ſtood aboue forty dishes before me to day,
That I nere toucht, because they were empty.

Mint. I am witnes young Gentlemen to that.

Tuc. Farewell tinckers, I find thy meaning Screech-owle,
I doe, tho I stop my nose: and Sirra Poet, we'll haue thee vn-
truit for this; come, mother Mum-pudding, come.

Exeunt.

Trumpets found a florish, and then a ſennate: Enter King with
Cæleſtine, Sir Walter Terrill, Sir Quintilian, Sir Adam, Blunt
and other Ladies and attendants: whilſt the Trumpets found
the King takes his leaue of the Bride-groome, and Sir
Quintilian, and laſt of the Bride.

Kin, My ſong of parting, doth this burden beare;
A kife the Dirty, and I fet it heere.

Your

The vntrusting of

Your lips are well in tune, trung with delight,
By this faire Bride remember soone at night :
Sir Walter.

Ter. My Leige Lord, we all attend,
The time and place.

Kin. Till then my leaue commend.

They bring him to the door: Enter at another door.
Sir Vaughan.

Sir Vau. Ladies, I am to put a verie easie suite vpon you all, and to desire you to fill your little pellies at a dinner of plums behinde noone; there be Suckets, and Marmilads, and Marchants, and other long white plummes that faire would kisse your delicate and sweet lippes; I indite you all together, and you especially my Ladie Pride; what doe you faire for your fellest for I indite you all.

Cal. I thanke you good Sir Vaughan, I will come.

Sir Vau. Say Sentlewomen will you stand to me too?

All. We'll fit with you sweet Sir Vaughan.

Sir Vau. God a mightie pleffe your faces, and make your peauties laft, when wee are all dead and rotten: —you all will come.

1 Lady. All will come.

Sir Vau. Pray God that Horace bee in his right wittes to raile now.
Exiſt.

Cris. Come Ladie, you shall be my dauncing gueſt.
To treade the maze of muſicke with the reſt.

Dem. Ile lead you in.

Dicach. A maze is like a doubt:
Tis easie to goe in, hard to get out.

Blun. We follow close behinde.

Philoca. That meaſure's beſt.

Now none markes vs, but we marke all the reſt.
Exeunt all fauſing Sir Quintiliar, Cæleſtine, and Sir Walter Terrill.

Ter. Father.

the Humerous Poet.

Ter. Father, and you my Bride; that name to day,
Wife, comes not till to morrow: but omitting
This enterchanging of Languages; let vs thinke
Vpon the King and night, and call our spirits
To a true reckoning; firſt to Arme our wittes
With compleat ſteele of Iudgement, and our tongs,
With found attillery of Phraſes: then
Our Bodies muſt bee motions; moouing firſt
What we ſpeak: afterwards, our very knees
Muſt humbly ſeeme to talke, and ſute out ſpeech;
For a true furniſht Cortyer hath ſuch force,
Though his tonge faints, his very legs diſcourſe.

Sir quin. Sonne Terrill, thou haſt drawne his picture right,
For hee's noe full-made Courtier, nor well trung,
That hath not euery ioynt ſtucke with a tongue.
Daughter, if Ladies ſay, that is the Bride, that's ſhe,
Gaze thou at none, for all will gaze at thee.

Cal. Then, ò my father muſt I goe? O my husband
Shall I then goe? O my ſelfe, will I goe?

Sir quin. You muſt.

Ter. You ſhall.

Cal. I will, but giue me leaue,
To ſay I may not, nor I ought not, ſay not
Still, I muſt goe, let me intreat I may not.

Ter. You muſt and ſhall, I made a deede of giſt,
And gaue my oath vnto the King, I ſwore
By thy true conſtancy.

Cal. Then keep that word
To ſweare by, O let me be conſtant ſtill.

Ter. What ſhall I cancell faith, and breake my oath?

Cal. If breaking conſtancie, thou breakſt them both.

Ter. Thy conſtancie no euill can purſue.

Cal. I may be conſtant ſtill, and yet not true.

Ter. As how?

G

Cal. As

The vntrusting of

Ca. As thus, by violence detain'd,

They may be contant till, that are conſtrain'd.

Ter. Conſtrain'd that word weighs heavy yet my oath
Weighes downeth that word: the kinges thoughts are at oddes,
They are not even ballant in his breſt;
The King may play the man with me; nay more,
Kings may vlurpe; my wife's a woman; yet
Tis more then I know yet, that know not her,
If she should prooue mankinde, t were rare, ſye, ſye,
See how I looke my ſelfe, among ſt my thoughts,
Thinking to finde my ſelfe; my oath, my oath.

Sir quin. I ſware another, let me see by what,
By my long ſtocking, and my narrow skittes,
Not made to ſit vpon, ſhe shall to Court.
I haue a tricke, a charme, that shall lay downe
The ſpirit of luſt, and keep thee vnleſtowred;
Thy husbands honor ſau'd, and the hot King,
Shall haue enough too. Come, a tricke, a charme,
La'. God keep thy honour ſafe, my bloud from harme.
Ter. Come, my tricke-minded Erid, I le reach thee how,
To relish health a little: Tать this thought,
That when mine eyes ſeru'd loues commission,
Vpon thy beauties I did ſuſe on them,
To a King's ſe; cure all thy griefe with this,
That his great ſeale was grauen vpon this ring,
And that I was but Steward to a King.
Exeunt.

A banquet fet out: Enter Sir Vaughan, Horace, Aſinius Bubo, Lady Petula, Dicache, Philocalia, Mijtris Minierer, and Peter laſh.

Sir Vaughn. Ladies and Sentlemen, you are almost all welcome, to this sweet nuncions of Plums.

Dicach. Almost all Sir Vaughan: why to which of vs are you

the Humorous Poet.

you so niggardly, that you cut her out but a peice of welcome.

Sir Vauh. My interpretations is that almost all are welcome, because I indited a brace or two more that is not come, I am forrie my Ladie Pride is not among you.

Alis. Slid, he makes hounds of vs Ningle, a brace quoth a?

Sir Vauh. Peter Salamanders draw out the pictures of all the ioynt ſtooles, & Ladies fit downe vpon their wodden faces.

Flaſh. I warrant Sir, Ile giue euerie one of them a good ſtoole.

Sir Vau. Maſter Horace, Maſter Horace, when I pray to God, and desire in hipocritnes that bald Sir Adams were heer, then, then then begin to make your railles at the pouertie and beggerly want of haire.

Hor. Leaue it to my iudgement.

Sir Van. M. Bubo fit there, you and I will thinke vpon our ends at the Tables: M. Horace, put your learned bodie into the midt of these Ladies; so, tis no matter to ſpeake graces at nuncions, because we are ali paſt grace ſince dinner.

Aſini. Mas I thanke my deſtinie I am not paſt grace, for by this hand full of Carrawaies, I could neuer abide to ſay grace.

Dicas. Miftris Minierer, is not that innocent Gentleman a kindne of foole?

Mm. Why doe you aske Madam?

Decach. Nay for no harme, I aske because I thought you two had been of acquaintaine.

Mm. I thinke he's within an Inch of a foole.

Decach. Madam Philocalia, you fit next that spare Gentleman, wod you heard what Miftris Minierer faies of you.

Phelos. Why what faies ſhe Madam Dicache.

Dicas. Nay nothing, but wishes you were married to that small timber'd gallant.

Philo. Your wifh and mine are twinnes, I wifh so too for then

G 2

## The vntruising of
Then I should be sure to lead a merrie life.

Afin. Yesthaſt Ladie, Ide make you laugh, my boles now
and then ſhould be soone ſhot; by the ſe comſits, weed let all
ſlide.

Petu. He takes the ſweete ſt oathes that euer I heard a gal-
lant of his pitch ſweare; by the ſe Comſits, & the ſe Carrawaues,
I warrant it does him good to ſweare.

Aſin. Yes faith tis meate and drinke to me.
I am glad Ladie Petula (by this Apple) that thy pleafe you.

Sr Vau. Peter Salamanders wine, I beſeech you Malt er
Aſinius Bubo, not to ſweare so deepeſt, for there comes no
frute of your oathes; heere Ladies, I put you all into one cor-
ners together, you shall all drinke of one cup.

Aſi. Peter I prethee fill me out too.

Flash. Ide fling you out too and I might ha my will, a por
of all ſcoles.

Sr Vau. Miſt ris Miniuers, pray bee luſtlie, wod Sir Adams
Prickſhaft ſtucke by you.

Hor. Who, the balde Knight Sir Vaughan?

Sr Vau. I the ſame M. Horace, he that has but a remnant or
parcell of haire, his crowne is clipt and par'd away; me thinkes
tis an excellent qualitie to bee balde; for and there ſtucke a
nose and two nyes in his pate, he might weare two faces vn-
der one hood.

Aſi. As God ſaue me la, if I might ha my will, Ide rather
be a balde Gentleman then a hairy; for I am ſure the belt and
tallest Yeomen in England haue balde heads: me thinkes haire
is a ſcurue lowſie commodity.

Hor. Bubo, heere in you blaze your ignorance.

Sr Vau. Pray ſtop and fill your mouthes, and giue M. Horace all your eares.

Hor. For, if of all the bodie's parts, the head
Be the moſt roycall: if dſcourſe, witt, Iudgement,
And all our underſtanding faculties,

Sit

## the Humerous Poet.

Sit there in their high Court of Parliament,
Enacting lawes to ſway this humorous world:
This unit: fle of Man: needes muſt that crowne,
Which stands upon this ſupreme head, be faire,
And helde inuaduable, and that crowne's the Haire :
The head that wants this honour stands awry,
Is bare in name and in authority.

Sr Vau. He meanes balde-pates miſt ris Miniuers.

Hor. Haire, tis the roabe which curious nature weaues,

To hang upon the head: and does adorne,

Our bodies in the first houre we are borne.

God does beſtow that garment: when we dye,

To that (like a soft and ſilken Canopie)

Is ſtill ſpred ouer us; in ſpight of death

Our hayre growes in our graue, and that alone

Lookes fresh, when all our other beauty's gone.

The excellence of Haire, in this ſhines elcere,

That the ſoure Elements take pride to we we

The fashion of it: when Fire moſt bright does burne,

The flames to golden lockes doe striue to turne;

When her laſcious armes the Water burles,

About the ſhoares waſt, her ſleeke head ſhe curles:

And rovid cloudes being ſuckt into the Ayre,

When downe they melt, hangs like fine filuer hayre.

You ſee the Earth (whose head so oft it shorne)

Frighted to ſeele her lockes for rudely torne,

Stands with her haire an end, and (thus afraide)

Turnes-euery haire to a greene naked blade.

Besides, when (ſtrucke with greſe) we long to dye,

We ſpoile that moſt, which moſt does beautiſe,

We rend this Head-tyre off. I thus conclude,

Cullors ſet cullors on your eyes iudge right,

Of vice or vertue by their oppoſite:

So, if faire haire to beauty ad ſuch grace,

G 3.

Baldnes

The vntruising of

Baldnes muſt needes be ugly, vile and base.

Sir Vau. True M. Horace, for a bald reaſon, is a reaſon that has no haires vpon't, a ſcuruy ſcalded reaſon.

Mt. By my truely I neuer thought you could ha pickt
such ſtange things out of haire before.

Aſimi. Nay my Ningle can tickle it, when hee comes
too't.

Min. Troth I ſhall neuer bee enameld of a bare-headed
man for this, what ſhift ſo euer I make.

Sir Vau. Then Miltris Minuuer S. Adams Prickſhaft muſt
not hit you; Peter take vp all the cloathes at the table and the
Plums.

Enter Tucca and his boy.

Tuc. Saue thee my little worſhipfull Harper; how doe yee
my little cracknels? how doe ye?

Sir Vau. Welcome M. Tucca, fit and ſhoote into your bel-
ly some Suger pellets.

Tuc. No, Godamercy Cadwallader, how doe you Horace?

Ho. Thankes good Captaine.

Tu. Wher's the Sering thou carrieſt about thee? O haue I
found thee my ſcowring-ſticke; what's my name Bubo?

Aſimi. Wod I were hang'd if I can call you any names
but Captaine and Tucca.

Tuc. No Fye'ft, my name's Hamlet reuenge: thou haſt
been at Parris garden haſt not?

Hor. Yes Captaine, I ha plaide Zulziman there. (man.

Sir Vau. Then M. Horace you plaide the part of an honest

Tuc. Death of Hercules, he could neuer play that part well
in's life, no Fulkes you could not: thou call'ft Demetrius
Iorneyman Poet, but thou putſt vp a Supplication to be
a poore Iorneyman Player, and hadſt beene ſtill ſo, but
that thou couldſt not ſet a good face vpon't: thou haſt forgot
how thou ambleſt (in leather pilch) by a play-wagon, in the
high way, and took'ſt mad Ieronimoes part, to get ſeruice a-

mong

the Humorous Poet.

mong the Mimickes: and when the Stagerites banisht thee
into the ile of Dogs, thou turn'dſt Ban-dog (villanous Guy) &
euer ſince bitelſt therefore I aske if th' aſt been at Parris-gar-
den, because thou haſt ſuch a good mouth; thou banſt well,
read, ſege, ſaue thy ſelfe and read,

Hor. Why Captaine theſe are Epigrams compoſ'd on you.

Tuc. Goe not out Farding Candle, goe not out for truſty
Damboys now the deed is done, Ile pledge this Epigram in
wine, Ile ſwallow it, I, yes.

Sir Vau. God bleſſe vs, will he be drunke with nittigrams
now.

Tuc. So, now arife sprite ath Buttry; no Herring-bone Ile
not pull thee out, but arife deere Eccho rife, rife deuill or Ile
conure thee vp.

Min. Good Maſter Tucca lets ha no coniuring heere.

Sir Vau. Vddes bloud you ſcald gout Captaine, why
come you to let encombrances heere betweene the Ladies.

Tuc. Be not ſo tart my precious Metheglin, be not my old
whore a Babilon, fit faſt.

Min. O Ieſu if I know where abouts in London Babilon
stands,

Tuc. Feede and be fat my faire Calipolis, flir not my bea-
teous wriggle-tailles, 'le diſeafe none of you, Ile take none of
you vp, but onely this table-man, I muſt enter him into some
filthy fincke point, I muſt.

Hor. Captaine, you doe me wrong thus to diſgrace me.

Tuc. Thou think't thou maſt be as ſawcy with me as my
Buffe Ierkin to fit vpon me, doft?

Ho. Dam me, if euer I traduc'd your name,
What imputation can you charge me with?

Sir Vau. Sblud, I, what còputations can you lay to his ſarge?
aſwer, or by Sefu Ile canuas your coxcombe Tucky

Min. If they draw ſweet hearts, let vs (shift for our ſelues.

Tuc. My noble swaggerer, I will not fall out with thee, I can-
not

The vntruising of

not my mad Cumrade, finde in my heart to shed thy bloud.

Sir Vau. Cumrade by Sefu call me Cumrade againe, and Ile Cumrade ye about the finnes and shoulders; ownds, what come you to smell out heere? did you not dine and feede horibly well to day at dinner, but you come to munch heere, and giue vs winter-plummes? I pray depart, goe marfe, marfe, marfe out a doores.

Tuc. Adew Sir Eglamour, adew Lute-ftringe, Curtin-rod, Gooſe-quill; heere, giue that full-not'd Skinker, these rimes; & harke, Ile tagge my Codpeece point with thy legs, spout-pot Ile empty thee.

Aſin. Dost threaten mee? Gods lid Ile binde thee to the good forbearing.

Sir Vau. Will you amble Hobby-horſe, will you trot and amble?

Tuc. Raw Artichocke I shall ſauce thee.

Exit.

Mir. I pray you Maſter Tucca, will you ſend me the ſiue pound you borrowed on me; O you cannot heare now, but Ile make you heare me and feele me too in another place, to your ſhame I warrant you, thou ſhalt not conny-catch mee for ſiue pounds; he tooke it vp Sir Vaughan in your name, hee ſwore you ſent for it to Mum withall, twas ſiue pound in gold, as white as my kercher.

Sir Vaughan. Ownds, ſiue pound in my name to Mum about withall.

Mir. I, to Mum withall, but hee playes mum-budget with me.

Sir Vau. Peter Salamander, tye vp your great and your little ſword, by Sefu Ile goe ſing him while tis hot, Ile beate ſiue pound out of his leather pilch: Maſter Horace, let your wittes inhabite in your right places; if I fall fanſomely vpon the Widdow, I haue ſome coſſens Garman at Court, I shall beget you the reuerſion of the Maſter of the Kings Reuels; or else be his Lord of Mif-rule nowe at Christmas: Come Ladyes, whereſon,

the Humerous Poet.

whoreſon Stragling Captaine, Ile pound him.

Exeunt.

Manet Horace and Aſinius.

Hor. How now? what ail it thou, that thou look'st so pale?

Aſin. Nay nothing, but I am aſtraide the Welsh Knight has giuen me nothing but purging Comfits: this Captaine ſtickes pockily in my ſtomack; read this ſcroule, he faies they'r rimes, and bid me giue them you,

Hor. Rimes? tis a challenge ſent to you.

Aſin. To me?

Hor. He faies heere you divulg'd my Epigrams.

Aſin. And for that dares he challenge me?

Hor. You see he dares, but dare you anſwer him?

Aſin. I date, anſwer his challenge, by word of mouth, or by writing, but I ſcorne to meete him, I hope he and I are not Paralels.

Hor. Deere Eubo, thou ſhalt anſwere him; our credites Lye pawn'd vpon thy reſolution, Thy vallor muſt redeeme them; charge thy ſpirits, Towaite more cloſe, and neere thee: if he kill thee, Ile not ſuruie; into one Lottery We'll call our fates, together liue and dye.

Aſi. Content, I owe God a death, and if he will make mee pay't againſt my will, Ile ſay tis hard dealing.

Exeunt

Enter Sir Adam, Tucca, with two pistols by his sides, his boy laden with swords and bucklers.

Tuc. Did Apolloes Freeze gowne watch man (boy, doſt heare Turkie-cockes tayle, haue an eye behinde, leaſt the ene-mie aſſault our Rere-ward) on, proceede Father Adam; did that fame tiranicall-tongu'd rag-a-muffin Horace, turne bald-pates out so naked?

Sir Ad. He did, and whipt them so with nettles, that

The

H

The vntrusting of

The Widdow Iwore that a bare-headed man,
Should not man her: the Ladie Petula
Was there, heard all, and tolde me this,

Tuc. Goe too,

Thy golde was accepted, it was, and she shall bring thee into
her Paradise, she shall small Adam, she shall,

Sir Ada. But how? but how Capten?

Tuc. Thus, goe, couer a table with sweet meates, let all the
Gentlewomen, and that fame Pasquils-mad-cap (mother bee
there) nibble, bid them bite: they will come to gobble downe
Plummes; then take vp that paire of Basket hiltes, with my
commission, I meane Crispinus and Fannius; charge one of
them to take vp the Bucklers, againft that hayre-monger Ho-
race, and haue a bout or two, in defence of balde-pates: let
them cracke euerie crowne that has haire on't: goe, let them
lift vp baldenest to the skie, and thou shalt see, twill turne Mi-
niuers heart quite againft the haire.

Sir Ada. Excellent, why then M. Tucca—

Tuc. Nay, whir, whir, aymble Prick shaft; whir, away, I goe vp
on life and death, away, flie Scanderbag flie. Exit.

Enter Afinius Bubo, and Horace aloofe.

Boy. Arme Captaine, arme, arme, arme, the foe is come downe.

Tucca offers to shoot.

Afii. Hold Capten Tucca holde, I am Bubo, & come to an-
fwer any thing you can lay to my charge.

Tuc. What, doft summon a parlie my little Drum-flieke?
tis too late; thou feet my red flag is hung out, He fill thy guts
with thine owne carrion carcas, and then eat them vp in iteed
of Sawfages.

Afii. Vse me how you will; I am refolute, for I haue made
my Will,

Tuc. Wilt

the Humorous Poet.

Tuc. Wilt fight Turke-a-ten-pence: wilt fight then?

Afini. Thou shalt finde me fight in a Godly quarrell, if I be
once fir'd.

Tuc. Thou shalt not want fire, Ile ha thee burnt when thou
wilt, my colde Cornelius: but come: Refpice funem; looke,
thou feelt; open thy selfe my little Cutlers Shoppe, I chal-
lenge thee thou flender Gentleman, at foure fundrie wea-
pons.

Afii. Thy challenge was but at one, and Ile answere but
one,

Boy. Thou shalt answert two, for thou shall anfwer me and
my Capten,

Tuc. Well said Cockrell out-crowe him: art hardy noble
Huon ? art Magnanimous? licke-trencher; looke, search leaft
fome lye in ambusc; for this man at Armes, has paper in's bel-
lie, or fome friend in a corner, or die hee durft not bee so
cranke.

Boy. Capten, Capten, Horace flands sneaking heere.

Tuc. I smelt the foule-fifted Morter-treader, come my
moft damnable faftidious rafcall, I haue a suite to both of
you.

Afii. O holde, moft pittifull Captaine holde.

Hor. Holde Capten, tis knowne that Horace is valiant, &
a man of the sword.

Tuc. A Gentleman or an honest Citizen, shall not Sit in
your pennie-bench Theaters, with his Squirrel by his side
cracking nuttes; nor sneake into a Tauerne with his Mermaid;
but he shall be Satyr'd, and Epigram'd vpon, and his humour
muft run vpo'th Stage: you'll ha Enery Gentleman in's bu-
mour, and Enery Gentleman out on's humour: wee that are
heades of Legions and Bandes, and feare none but thefe
fame, shoulder-clappers, shall feare you, you Serpentine
ra call.

Hor. Honour'd Capten.

H 2

Tuc. Act

The vntruising of

Tuc. Art not famous enough yet, my mad Horaftratus, for killing a Player, but thou must eate men aliue' thy friends? Sirra wilde-man, thy Patrons? thou Anthropophagite, thy Mecænafies?

Hor. Captaine, I'm sorry that you lay this wrong.
So close vnto your heart: deare Captaine thinke
I writ out of hot bloud, which (now) being colde,
I could be pleaf'd (to pleafe you) to quaffe downe,
The poyfon'd Inke, in which I dipt your name.

Tuc. Saist thou so, my Palinodicall rimefer?

Hor. Hence forth Ile rather breath out Solocifmes
(To doe which Ide as foone speake blasphemie)
Than with my tongue or pen to wound your worth,
Beleeue it noble Capten; it to me
Shall be a Crowne, to crowne your actes with praize,
Out of your hate, your loue Ile stronglie raize.

Tuc. I know now th'aft a number of these Quiddits to
binde men to' th peace: tis thy fashion to flirt Inke in cuerie
mans face; and then to craule into his boſome, and damne thy
ſelfe to wip't off agen: yet to giue out abroad, that hee was
glad to come to composition with thee: I know Monsieur
Machiauell tis one a thy rules; My long-heel'd Troglodite, I
could make thine eares burne now, by dropping into them, all
thoſe hot oathes, to w hich thy ſelfe gau'!t voluntarie fire, (whe
thou waſt the man in the Moone) that thou wouldt neuer
ſquib out any new Salt-peter Ieſtles againſt honeſt Tucca, nor
thoſe Maligo-taſters, his Poetaſters; I could Cinocephalus, but
I will not, yet thou knowſt thou haſt broke thoſe oathes in
print, my excellent infernall,

Ho. Capten.

Tuc. Nay I ſmell what breath is to come from thee, thy anſwer is, that there's no faith to be helde with Heritickes & Infidels, and therfore thou ſwear'ſt anie thing: but come, lend mee thy hand, thou and I hence forth will bee Alexander and Lodwicke,

the Humerous Poet.

Lodwicke, the Gemini: ſworne brothers, thou ſhalt be Peritheus and Tucca Theseus; but Ile leaue thee i'th lurch, when thou mak'ſt thy voiage into hell: till then, Thine affuredly.

Hor. With all my ſoule deare Capten,

Tuc. Thou'lt ſhoot thy quilles at mee, when my terrible
backe's turn'd for all this, wilt not Porcupine? and bring me &
my Heliconiſtes into thy Dialogues, to make vs talke madlie,
wut not Lucian?

Hor. Capten, if I doe

Tuc. Nay and thou doſt, hornes of Lucifer, the Parcell-Po-
et shall Sue thy wrangling Mufe, in the Court of Pernaſſus,
and neuer leaue hunting her, till she pleade in Forma Panperie:
but I hope th'aſt more grace: come: friendes, clap handes tis a
bargaine; amiable Bubo, thy fitt muſt walke too: so, I loue
thee, now I see th'art a little Hercules, and wilt fight; Ile Sticke
thee now in my companie like a ſprig of Rosemary.

Enter Sir Rees ap Vaughan and Peter Flash.

Fla. Draw Sir Rees he's yonder, ſhall I vpon him?

Sir Van. Vpon him: goe too, goe too. Peter Salamander; holde, in Gods name holde; I will kill him to his face, becaufe I meane he ſhall anſwer for it; being an eye-witnes; one vrde Capten Tucky.

Tuc. Ile giue thee ten thouſand words and thou wilt, my little Thomas Thomaſiус.

Sir Van. By Sefu, tis beſt you giue good vrdes too, leaſt I beate out your tongue, and make your vrde nere to bee taken more; doe you heare, ſiue pounds, ſiue pounds Tucky.

Tuc. Thou ſhalt ha ſiue, and ſiue, and ſiue, and thou wantſt money my Iob.

Sir Vau. Leaue your fetches and your fegaries, you tough
leather-Ierkins; leaue your quandaries, and trickes, and draw
upon me y'are beſt: you conny-catch Widdow Mininer-caps
for

H 3

The vntrusting of

for fiue pounds, and say tis for me to cry Mum, and make mee
run vp and downe in dishonors, and difcredites; is't not true,
you winke-a-pipes raf call? is not true?

Tuc. Right, true, guilty, I remember't now; for when I
spake a good word to the Widdow for thee my young Samp-
ton —

Sir Van. For fiue pounds you cheating scab, for 5. pounds,
not for me.

Tuc. For thee ô Cæsar, for thee. I tooke vp fiue pounds in
golde, that lay in her lap, & said Ide giue it thee as a token from
her: I did it but to finell out how she ftood affected to thee, to
feele her; I, and I know what she said, I know how I carried a
way the golde.

Sir Vau. By Sefu, I ha not the mercy to fall vpon him now:
M. Tucky, did widdow Miniuers part quietly from her golde,
becauſe you lyed, and ſaid it was for me?

Tuc. Quietly, in peace, without grumbling; made no noife,
I know how I tempted her, in thy behalfe; my little Trangdo,

Sir Vau. Capten Tucky, I will pay back her 5. L. (vnles you be damn'd in lyes) & hold you, I pray you pocket vp this; by the croſſe a this sword & dagger, Capten you ſhall take it.

Tuc. Dost ſweare by daggers? nay then Ile put vp more at thy hands then this.

Flash. Is the fray done fir?

Sir Vau. Done Peter, put vp your fineeter.

Tuc. Come hether, my soure-fac'd Poet; fling away that
beard-brufh Bubo, caſheere him, and harke: Knight attend:
So, that raw-head and bloudy-bones Sir Adam, has fee'd ano-
ther brat (of those nine common wenches) to defend bald-
nes, and to raile againſt haire: he'll haue a fling at thee, my
noble Cock-Sparrow.

Sir Vau. At me? will hee fling the cudgels of his witte at
mee?

Tuc. And at thy button-cap too; but come, Ile be your lea-
der,

the Humorous Poet.

der you ſhall stand, heare all, & not be ſene; caſt off that blew
coate, away with that flawne, and follow, come : Exit.

Hor. Bubo, we follow Captaine.

Sir Ua Peter, leaue comming behinde me, I pray any lon-
ger for you and I muſt part Peter.

Flash. Sounds Sir, I hope you will not ferue me so, to turne
me away in this cafe.

Sir Vau. Turne you into a fooles coate; I meane I will go
ſolus, or in solitaries alone; sounds y-are belt giue better words,
or Ile turne you away indeed; where is Capten Tucky? come
Horace; get you home Peter.

Flash. Ile home to your coſt, and I can get into the Wine-Seller.

Exit.

Hor. Remember where to meete mee.

Aſim. Yes Ile meete; Tucca ſhould ha found I dare
meete. Exit.

Ho. Dare defend baldnes, which our conquering Mufe
Has beaten downe to flat? Well, we will goe,
And see what weapons theyr weake wittes doe bring;
If ſharpe, we'll ſpred a large and nobler wing;
Tucca, heere lyes thy Peace: warre roares agen;
My Swoord, ſhall neuer cutte thee, but my pen. Exit.

Enter Sir Adam, Crispinus, Fannius, Elunt, Miniuer,
Petula, Philocalia and Dicace.

Ladies, Thankes good Sir Adam.

Sir Ada. Welcome red-cheekt Ladies,
And welcome comely Widdow; Gentlemen,
Now that our forry banquet is put by,
From fealing more ſweet kiffes from your lips
Walke in my garden: Ladyes let your eyes
Shed life into these flowers by their bright beames,
Sit, Sit, heere's a large bower, heere all may heare,
Now good Crispinus let your praize begin.

There

The vntrusting of

There, where it left off Baldnes.

Crif. I shall winne.

No praeife, by praiſing that, which to depraue,
All tongues are readie, and which none would haue.

Bin. To prooue that beſt, by ſtrong and armed reaſon,
Whofe part reaſon feares to take, cannot but prooue,
Your wit's fine temper, and from theſe win loue.

Min. I promife you has almoſt conuerted me, I pray bring
forward your bald reaſons M. Poet.

Cri. Miltris you giue my Reaſons proper names,
For Arguments (like Children) ſhould be like,
The ſubieſt that begets them; I muſt ſtriuе
To crowne Bald heades, therefore muſt baldlie thriuе;
But be it as it can: To what before,

Went arm'd at table, this force bring I more,
If a Bare head (being like a dead-mans (cull)
Should beare vp no praeife els but this, it ſets
Our end before our eyes; ſhould I dispaire,

From giuing Baldnes higher place then haire?

Mmi. Nay perdie, haire has the higher place.

Cri. The goodlieſt & moſt glorious ſtrange-built wonder,
Which that great Architect hath made, is heauen;
For there he keepes his Court, It is his Kingdome,
That's his beſt Maſter-piece; yet tis the roofe,
And Seeling of the world: that may be cal'd

The head or crowne of Earth, and yet that's balde,
All creatures in it balde; the louely Sunne,
Has a face fleeke as golde; the full-cheekt Moone,
As bright and ſmooth as filuer: nothing there

Weares dangling lockes, but ſometime blazing Starres,
Whofe ſlaming curles, ſet realmes on fire with warres.
Descend more low; looke through mans ſiue-fold ſence,
Of all, the Eye, beares greatest eminence;

Are

the Humerous Poet.

Are ſlicht vnto the liddes, borrow thofe ſormes,
Like Pent-houſes to ſaue the eyes from ſtormes.

Sir Adam. Right, well ſaid.

Crif. A head and face ore-growne with Shaggie droſſe,
O,tis an Orient pearle hid all in Moſſe;

But when the head's all naked and vncrown'd,
It is the worlds Globe, euen, ſmooth and round;

Baldnes is natures But, at which our life,

Shootes her laſt Arrow: what man euer lead

His age out with a ſtaffe, but had a head

Bare and vncouer'd hee whose ſyeares doe rife,

To their full height, yet not balde, is not wife.

The Head is Wifedomes houſe, Haire but the thatch,

Haire: It's the baselt ſtubble; in ſcorne of it,

This Prouerbe ſprung, he has more haire then wit :

Marke you not in derision how we call,

A head growne thickc with haire, Buſh-naturall?

Mm. By your leaue (Maſter Poet) but that Buſh-naturall,
is one a the trimmeſt, and moſt intangling it beautit in a wo-
man.

Crif. Right, but beleeeue this (pardon me moſt faire)

You would haue much more wit, had you leſſe haire :

I could more wearie you to tell the proofes,

(As they paffe by) which fight on Baldnes ſide,

Then were you taskt to number on a head,

The haires: I know not how your thoughts are lead,

On this ſtrong Tower ſhall my opinion reſt,

Heades thickc of haire are good, but balde the beſt,

Whilſt this Paradox is in ſpeaking, Tucca Enters with Sir Vaugh-
an at one doore, and ſecretly placeth him: then Exit and brings in

Horace muſſed, placing him: Tucca fits among them.

Tuc. Th'art within a haire of it, my ſweet Wit, whether wile
thou?

I

The vntrusting of

thou ? my delicate Poeticall Furie, th'aft hit it to a haire.

Sir Vaughan *steps out*.

Sir Van. By your fauour Matter Tucky, his balde reasons are wide aboue two hayres, I befees you pardon mee. Ladies, that I thruft in so malepartly among you, for I did but mych heere, and see how this cruell Poet did handle bald heades.

Sir Ad. He gaue them but their dute Sir Vaughan; Widdow did he not?

Mimi. By my faith he made more of a balde head, than euer I shall be able: he gaue them their due truely.

Sir Vaughn. Nay vds bloud, their due is to bee a the right haire as I am, and that was not in his fingers to giue, but in God a Mighties: Well, I will hyre that humorous and fantastical Poet Mafter Horace, to breake your balde pate Sir Adam.

Sir Ada. Breake my balde pate?

Tuc. Doft heare my worshipfull block-head?

Sir Vang. Patience Captaine Tucky, let me absolue him; I meane he shall pricke, pricke your head or fconce a little with his goofe-quils, for he shall make another Thalimum, or croffe-flickes, or some Polinod dyes, with a fewe Nappy-grams in them, that shall lift vp haire, and fet it an end, with his learned and harty commendations.

Hor. This is excellent, all will come out now.

Dica. That fame Horace me thinkes hast he in vngodly face, by my Fan; it lookes for all the world, like a rotten ruffet Apple, when tis bruiz'd: Its better then a spoonefull of St-namon water next my heart, for me to heare him ſpake; hee foundes it so i'th nose, and talkes and randes for all the world, like the poore fellow vnder Ludgate: oh fye vp-on him.

Min. By my troth sweet Ladies, it's Cake and pudding to me, to see his face make faces, when hee reades his Songs and

the Humorous Poet.

and Sonnets.

Hor. Ile face some of you for this, when you shall not budge.

Tuc. Its the ſtinckingſt dung-farmer----foh vpon him.

Sir Van. Foh!oundes you make him vrſe than olde hearing: foh: by Sefu I thinke he's as tidy, and as tall a Poet as euer drew out a long verse.

Tuc. The belt verſe that euer I knew him hacke out, was his white necke-verse: noble Ap Rees thou wouldſt ſcome to laye thy lippes to his commendations, and thou ſmeldſt him out as I doe, hee calles thee the burning Knight of the Salamander.

Sir Vaughn. Right, Peter is my Salamander; what of him, but Peter is neuer burnt: howe now? so, goe too now.

Tucca. And fayes becaufe thou Clipſt the Kinges English.

Sir Vaughan. Oundes mee: that's treason: clip ? horrible treasons, Sefu holde my handles; clip? he baites mouſe-trappes for my life.

Tucca. Right little Twinckler, right: hee ſayes becaufe thou ſpeak't no better, thou canſt not keepe a good tongue in thy head.

Sir Vang. By God tis the belt tongue, I can buy for loue or money.

Tuc. He shootes at thee too Adam Bell, and his arrowes ſtickes heere; he callest thee bald-pate.

Sir Vaughn. Oundes make him prooue these intollera-bilities.

Tuc. And askes who shall carry the vineger-bottle? & then he rimes too't, and ſayes Prickſaft: nay, Minuer hee crom-plesthy Cap too; and ----

Cri. Come Tucca, come, no more; the man's wel-knowne, thou needſt not paint him, whom does he not wrong?

I 2

Tuc. Mary

The vntruising of

Tuc. Mary himselfe, the vglie Pope Boniface, pardons himselfe, and therefore my indgement is, that presently he bee had from hence, to his place of execution, and there bee Stab'd, Stab'd, Stab'd. He stabs a him.

Hor. Oh gentlemen, I am flaine, oh flaue arch'd to murder me, to murder me, to murder me!

Ladies. Oh God!

Sir Vaughn. Ounds Capten you haue put all Poetrie to the dint of word, blow winde about him: Ladies for our Lordes fake you that haue smocks, teare off peeces, to shoote through his oundes: Is he dead and buried? is he? pull his nofe, pinch, rub, rub, rub, rub.

Tu. If he be not dead, looke heere; I ha the Stab and pip-pin for him; if I had kil'd him, I could ha pleaf'd the great foole with an Apple.

Cris. How now? be well good Horace, heer's no wound; Y'are flaine by your owne feares; how doft thou man? Come, put thy heart into his place againe; Thy out-side's neither peir'ft, nor in-side flaine.

Sir Van. I am glad M. Horace, to see you walking.

Ho. Gentlemen, I am blacke and blewe the breadth of a groate.

Tuc. Breadth of a groate? there's a tefton, hide thy infirmities, my ſeuruy Lazarus; doe, hide it, leaſt it prooue a ſcab in time: hang thee desparation, hang thee, thou knowſt I cannot be charped ſet againſt thee: looke, feele (my light-vptails all) feele my weapon.

Mr. O moſt pittifull as blunt as my great thumbe.

Sir Van. By Sefu, as blunt as a Welsh bag-pudding.

Tuc. As blunt as the top of Poules; tis not like thy Aloe, Cicawine tongue, bitter: no, tis no flabbet, but like thy good-lv and glorious noſe, blunt, blunt, blunt: doſt roare bulchin? doſt roare: th'ast a good rounčall voice to cry Lanthorne & Candle-light.

Sir Van. Two

the Humerous Poet.

Sir V. Two vards Horace about your eares: how chance it paffes, that you bid God boych to an honest trade of building ſymneys, and laying downe Bruckes, for a worſe handicraft-nes, to make nothing but railes; your Mufe leanes vpon no-thing but filchy rotten railes, such as stand on Poules head, how chance?

Hor. Sir Vaughan.

Sir Va. You lye fir varlet fir villaine, I am fir Salamanders, oundes, is my man Matter Peter Salamanders face as vſe as mine: Sentlemen, all and Ladies, and you ſay once or twice Amen, I will lap this little Silde, this Booby in his blankets agen.

Omnès. Agree'd, agree'd.

Tuc. A blanket, theſe crackt Venice glaſſes ſhall fill him out, they ſhall toſſe him, holde faſt wag-tailes: ſo, come, in, take this bandy with the racket of patience, why when doſt flampe mad Tamberlaine, doſt flampe: thou thinkt th'ast Morter vndr thy feeſte, doſt?

Ladies. Come, a bandy ho.

Hor. O holde moſt sacred beauties.

Sir Van. Hold, ſilence, the puppet-teacher ſpeakes.

Ho. Sir Vaughan, noble Capten, Gentlemen, Crispinus, deare Demetrius, ô redeeme me, Out of this infamous—by God by Iesu—

Cri. Nay, ſweare not so good Horace, now theſe Ladies, Are made your executioners: prepare, To ſuffer like a gallant, not a coward; Ile trie't vnloofe, their hands, impoſsible. Nay, womens vengeance are implaſeable.

Hor. Why, would you make me thus the ball of ſcorne?

Tuc. Ile tell thee why, be cause th'ast entire Actions of aſ-fault and battery, againſt a company of honourable and wor-ſhipfull Fathers of the laws: you wrangling rascall, law is one of the pillers ath land, and if thou beſt bound too't (as I hope

thou

I 3

The vntrusting of

thou shalt bee) thou'rt probeue a skip-lacke, thou'rt be whisp,
He tell thee why, becaufe thy spottering chappes ylpe, that
Arrogance, and impudence, and Ignoraunce, are the effen-
tiall parts of a Courtier.

Sir Vau. You remember Horace, they will puncke, and pincke, and pumpe you, and they catch you by the coxcombe on I pray, one laſh a little more.

Tuc. He tell thee why, becaufe thou cryeſt ptooh at wor-
ſhipfull Citizens, and calſt them Flat-caps, Cuckolds, and
bankrupts, and modell and vertuous wites punckes & cock-
 atrices. He tell thee why, becaufe th'aſt arraigned two Poets
againſt all lawe and conſience ; and not content with
that, haſt turn'd them amongst a company of horrible blacke
Fryers.

Sir Van. The fame hand ſtill it is your owne another day,
M. Horace, admiration is good in meate.

Tuc. Thou art the true arraigned Poet, and ſhouldt haue been hang'd, but for one of theſe part-takers, theſe charitable Copper-lac'd Chriſtians, that fetcht thee out of Purgatory, (Players I meane) Theatarians pouch-mouth Stage-walkers; for this Poet, for this, thou muſt lye with theſe ſoure wenches, in that blanket, for this—

Hor. What could I do, out of a iuſt revenge,
But bring them to the Stage? they entry me
becaufe I holde more worthy company.

Deme. Good Horace, no; my cheekes doe blush for thine,
As often as thou ſpeak'st so, where one true
And nobly-vertuous ſpirit, for thy beſt part.
Loues thee, I wifh one ten, euen from my heart,
I make account I put vp as deepely share,
In any good man's loue, which thy worth earnes,
As thou thy ſelfe, we enuy no to see.

Thy friends with Bayes to crowne thy Poefie,

No,

the Humorous Poet.

No, heere the gall lyes, we that know what ſtuffe
Thy verie heart is made of; know the ſtalke
On which thy learning growes, and can giue life
To thy (once dying) bafenes; yet muſt we,
Dance Antickes on your Paper.

Hor. Fannius.

Cri. This makes vs angry, but not emulous,
No, were thy warps ſoule, put in a new molde,
Ide weare thee as a lewell ſet in golde.

Sir Vau. And Jewels Mafter Horace, muſt be hang'd you know.

Tuc. Good Pagans, well ſaid, they haue ſowed vp that broken ſeame-rent lye of thine, that Demetrius is out at Elbowes, and Crispinus is falne out with Sattin heere, they haue; but bloate-herring doth heare?

Hor. Yes, honour'd Captaine, I haue eares at will.

Tuc. Iſt not better be out at Elbowes, then to bee a bond-
ſlaue, and to goe all in Parchment as thou dott

Horace. Parchment Captaine? tis Perpetuana. I affure you.

Tuc. My Perpetuall pantaloone true, but tis wawt ouer
th'art made out of Wax; thou muſt anſwere for this one day;
thy Mule is a hagler, and weares cloathes vpon beſt-be-truſe;
th'art great in some bodies books for this, thou kuowſt where;
thou wouldſt bee out at Elbowes, and out at heeles too,
but that thou layt about thee with a Bill for this, a
Bill—

Ho. I confesse Capten, I followed this ſuite hard.

Tuc. I know thou didst, and therefore whilſt we haue Hi-
ren heere, ſpeake my little diſh-waſhers, a verdi Piffe-
kutchins.

Omnies, Blancket.

Sir Van. Holde I pray, holde, by Sefu I haue put vp
on my heade, a fine deuice, to make you laugh, tis not
your

The vntruising of

your focles Cap Master Horace, which you couer'd your Poetasters in, but a fine tricke, ha, ha, is iumbling in my braine.

Tuc. Ile beate out thy braines, my whorson hanfome
dwarfere, but ile haue it out of thee.

Omnes. What is it good Sir Vaughan?

Sir Vau. To conclude, is after this manners, becaufe Ma. Horace is ambition, and does confpire to bee more hye and tall, as God a mightie made him, wee'll carry his terrible person to Court, and there before his Maleftie Dub, or what you call it, dip his Mufe in some licour, and chriften him, or dye him, into collours of a Poet.

Omnes. Excellent.

Tuc. Super Super-excellent Reuellers goe, proceede you Masters of Arte in kifring these wenches, and in daunces, bring you the quiuering Bride to Court, in a Maske, come Grumboll, thou fhalt Mum with vs; come, dogge mee skneakes-bill.

Hor. O thou my Mufe!

Sir Van. Call vpon God a mighty, and no Mufes, your Mufe I warrant is otherwise occupied, there is no dealing with your Mufe now, therefore I pray marſe, marſe, marſe, oundes your Moofe?

Cr. We fhal haue ſport to ſee them; come bright beauties,
The Sunne Stoops low, and whifpers in our eares,
To haſten on our Maske, let's crownie this nighe,
With choife compoſed wreathes of ſweet delight.

Enter Terrill and Cæleftine fadly, Sir Quintilian stirring and migling a cup of wine.

Ter. O Night, that Dyes the Firmament in blacke,
And like a cloth of cloudes doſt ſtretch thy limbes;
Vpon the windy Tenters of the Ayre:
O thou that hang'st vpon the backe of Day,

Like

the Humerous Poet.

Like a long mourning gowne: thou that art made
Without an eye, because thou shouldst not see
A Louers Reuel: nor participate
The Bride-groomes heauen; heauen, to me a hell:
I haue a hell in heauen, a bleſſed curſe;
All other Bride-groomes long for Night, and taxe
The Day of lazie flouth; call Time a Cripple,
And ſay the houres limpe after him: but I
With Night for euer banisht from the skie,
Or that the Day would neuer ſleepe: or Time,
Were in a ſwound; and all his little Houres,
Could neuer lift him vp with their poore powers.

Enter Cæleftine.

But backward runs the course of my delight;
The day hath turn'd his backe, and it is night:
This night will make vs odde; day made vs eeuen,
All eſe are damb'd in hel, but I in heauen.

Cæ. Let loose thy oath, ſo ſhall we ſtill be eeuen.

Ter. Then am I damb'd in hell, and not in heauen.

Cæl. Mult I then goe? tis eaſie to ſay no,
Mult, is the King himſelfe, and I muſt goe;
Shall I then goe that word is thine; I ſhall,
Is thy command: I goe because I ſhall;
Will I then goe? I aske my ſelfe; ill,
King, faies I muſt; you, I ſhall; I, will.

Ter. Had I not ſworne, Cæl. Why didst thou ſweare?

Ter. The King

Sat heauy, on my reſoluion,
Till (out of breath) it panted out an oath.

Cæl. An oath? why, what's an oath? tis but the ſmoake,
Of flame & bloud; the blifter of the ſpirit,
Which rizeth from the Steame of rage, the bubble
That shootes vp to the tongue, and ſcaldes the voice,
(For oathes are burning words) thou ſwor'ſt but one,

K

Tis

The vntrusting of

Tis frozen long agoe: if one be numbred,
What Countrimen are thy y where doe they dwell,
That speake naught else but oathes?
T. Ihey're men of hell.

An oath why tis the trafficke of the rule,
T is law within a man; the seale of faith,
The bond of every conscience; vnto who n,
V we see our thoughts like hands : yea such a one
Ifwore, and to the King: A King contames
A thousand thousand; when Ifwore to him,
I fwore to them; the very hairs that guard
His head, will rive vp like sharpe witneffes
Against my faith and loyalty : his eye
V would be straighte condemnme me : argue oathes no more,
My oath is high, for to the King I fwore.

Enter Sir Quintilian with the cup.

Ca. Muſt I betray my Chaſtity? So long
Cleane from the treaſon of rebelling luſt;
O husband ! O my Father ! if poore I,
Muſt not liue chaſt, then let me chaſt ly dye.
S. qui. I, heer's a charme shall keep thee chaſte, come, come;
Olde Time hath left vs but an houre to play
Our parts; begin the ſcane, who shall ſpeake firſt?
Oh, I, I play the King, and Kings ſpeake firſt;
Daughter ſtand thou heere, thou Sonne Terrill there,
O thou ſtand ſt well, thou leanſt againſt a poaſt,
(For thou't be poſt ed off I warrant thee :)
The King will hang a horne about thy necke,
And make a poaſt of thee; you ſt and well both,
V We neede no Prologue, the King entring firſt,
He's a moſt gracious Prologue : many then
For the Cataſtrophe, or Epilogue,

Ther's

the Humorous Poet.

Ther's one in cloth of Siluer, which no doubt,
V will pleafe the hearers well, when he ſteps out;
His mouth is ſiſt with words: fee where he ſlands;
He'll make them clap their eyes before their hands,
But to my part; ſuppofe who enters now,
A King, whole eyes are ſet in Siluer; one
That bluſheth golde, ſpeakes Muficke dancing walkes,
Now gathers neerer takes thee by the hand,
When I straight thou think'st, the very Orbe of heauen,
Mooues round about thy finger, then he ſpeakes,
Thus — thus — I know not how.

Ca/. Nor I to anſwer him.

Sir Quint. No girle: knowſt thou not how to anſwer him?
V Why then the field is loſt, and he rides home,
Like a great conquerour, not anſwer him?
Out of thy part already I know the ſcane?
Difranckt the lynes? diſar'd the action?

Ter. Yes yes, true chaſtity is tongu'd to weake,
Tis ouer-come ere it know how to ſpeake.

Sir qui. Come come, thou happy cloſe of euery wrong,
Tis thou that canſt diſſoluſe the hard ſt doubt;
T is time for thee to ſpeake, we are all out.
Daughter, and you the man whom I call Sonne,
I muſt confefſe I made a deede of giſt;
To heauen and you and gaue my childe to both :
V Vhen on my bleſſing I did charme her ſoule,
In the white circle of true Chaſtity,
Still to run true till death : now Sir, if not,
She for ſeyts my rich bleſſing and is Fin'd
V With an eternall curſe; then I tell you,
She shall dye now, now whilst her ſoule is true.

Ter. Dye?

(a). I, I am deaths eccho.

Sir qui. O my Sonne,

K 2

Iam

The vntrulsing of

I am her Father; euery teare I shed,
Is threecore ten yeere olde; I weepe and smile
Two kinde of teares: I weepe that she muft dye,
I smile that she muft dye a Virgin: thus
We io; full men mocke teares, and teares mocke vs.

Ter. What speaks that cup?

Sir quin. White wine and poison.

Ter. Oh:

That very name of poison, poisons me;

Thou Winter of a man thou walking graue,
Whole life is like a dying Japer: how

Canst thou define a Louers labouring thoughts?
What Sent haft thou but death: what tafe but earth?

The breath that purles from thee, is like the Steame

Of a new-open'd vault: I know thy drift,
Because thou art traquelling to the land of Graues,
Thou couet company, and hether bring it,

A health of poison to pledge death: a poison
For this sweete spring: this Element is mine,

This is the Ayre I breath; corrupt it not;

This heauen is mine, I bought it with my soule,

Of him that felles a heauen, to buy a soule.

Sir quin. Well, let her goe; she's thine thou canst her thine,
Thy Element, the Ayre thou breath'th; thou knowst

The Ayre thou breath'th is common, make her so :

Perhaps thou'nt say; none but the King shall weare

Thy night-gowne, she that laps thee warme with loue,
And that Kings are not common: Then to shew,

By consequence he cannot make her so,

Indeed she may promoote her shame and thine,
And with your shames, speake a good word for mine

The King fhining so cleare, and we so dim,

Our darke difgraces will be seene through him.

Imagine her the cup of thy moist life,

What

the Humorous Poet.

What man would pledge a King in his owne wife?

Ter. She dyesthat sentence poisons her: O life!

What flaue would pledge a King in his owne wife?

Ca'. Welcome, ô poysen, phisicke againſt luſt,

Thou holeſome medicine to a conſtant bloud;

Thou rare Apothecary that canſt keepe,
My chaſtity preferu'd, within this boxe;

Of attempting duſt, this painted earthen pot,

That ſtands vpon the ſtall of the white ſoule,

To fet the ſhop out like a flatterer;

To draw the cuſtomers of Sinne: come, come,

Thou art no poison, but a dyet-drinke,

To moderate my bloud: White-innocent Wine,

Art thou made guilty of my death? oh no,

For thou thy ſelſe art poison'd, take me hence,

For Innocence, ſhall murder Innocence.

Drinkes

Ter. Holde, holde, thou ſhalt not dye, my Bride, my wife,

O ſtop that ſpeedy meſſenger of death;

O let him not run downe that narrow path,

Which leades vnto thy heart; nor carry newes

To thy remoouing ſoule, that thou muſt dye.

Ca'. T is done already, the Spirituall Court,

Is breaking vp; all Offices diſcharg'd,

My ſoule remooues from this weake standing house,

Offraile mortality: Deare Father, bleſſe

Me now and euer: Dearer Man, farewell,

I loyntly take my leaue of thee and life,

Goe, tell the King thou haſt a conſtant wife.

Ter. I had a conſtant wife, Ile tell the King;

Vnſtill the King — what doſt thou smile? art thou

A Father?

Sir quin. Yea, ſmiles on my cheekes arise,

To ſee how ſwectly a true virgin dyes.

K 3

Enter

The vntrulsing of

Enter Blunt, Crispinus, Fannius, Philocalia, Dicache,
Petula, lights before them.

Cris. Sir Walter Terrill, gallants are all ready,
Ter. All ready.
Dem. Well said, come, come, where's the Bride?
Ter. She's going to forbid the Banes agen.
She'll dye a maid: and fee she keeps her oath,
All the men. Faire Cæleftine!

Ladies. The Bride!
Ter. She that was faire,
Whom I call'd faire and Cæleftine,
Omnes. Dead!

Sir quin. Dead, she's deathes Bride, he hath her maidenhead,
Cris. Sir Walter Terrill,
Omnes. Tell vs how.

Ter. All cease,
The subiect that we treate of now is Peace,
If you demaund how I can tell: if why,
Aske the King that, he was the caufe, not I.
Let it suffice, she's dead, she kept her vow,
Aske the King why, and then I let tell you how:
Nay give your Reuels life, cho she be gone,
To Court with all your preparation;
Leade on, and leade her on; if any aske
The miftery, say death presests a maske,
Ring peales of Muficke, you are Louers belles,
The loſſe of one heauen, brings a thoufand hels.

Exeunt.

Enter an arm'd Sewer, after him the seruice of a Banquet: the King at another door meets them; hey Exeunt.

Kin. Why so, euen thus the Mercury of Heauen,

Vheres

the Humorous Poet.

Vheres th'ambroſiate banquet of the Gods,
When a long traine of Angels in a ranke,
Scrue the firſt course, and bow their Chrifall knees,
Before the Silver table; where loues page
Sweet Ganimed filles Nectar when the Gods.
Drinke healthes to Kings, they pledge them; none but Kings
Dare pledge the Gods; none but Gods drinke to Kings,
Men of our house are we prepar'd.

Enter Scruants.

Ser. My Leige,
All ware the prefence of the Bride.

Km. The Bride?
Yea, euer, fenceles thing, which she beholdes,
Will looke on her agen her eyes reflection,
Will make the walles all eyes, with her perfection:
Obferue me now becaufe of Maskes and Reuels,
And many nuptiall ceremonies: Marke,
This I create the Prefence heere the State,
Our Kinglomes ſeate, ſh all fit in honours Pride,
Like pleafures Queene, there will I place the Bride:
Be gone, be speedy, let me see it done.
A King in Loue, is Steward to himſelfe,
And neuer ſcornes the office, my ſelpe buy,
All glances from the Market of her eye.

Exeunt.

Soft Muficke, chaire it ſet under a Canopie.

Kin. Sound Muficke, thou sweet ſuiter to the ayre,
Now wooe the ayre agen this is the houre,
Writ in the Calender of time, this houre,
Muficke ſhall ſpend, the next and next the Bride;
Her tongue will read the Muficke-Lecture: At
I loue the Wart, because thou art not wife;

Not

The vntrusting of

Not deep-read in the volume of a man,
Thou neuer sawt a thought, poore foule thou thinkt,
The heart and tongue is cut out of one piece,
But th'art deceau'd, the world hath a false light,
Fooles thinke tis day, when wife men know tis night.

Enter Sir Quintilian.

Sir quint. My Leige they're come a maske of gallants,
Kin. Now --- the spirit of Loue vsthers my bloud.

Sir quin. They come.

The Watch-word in a Maske is the bolde Drum.

Enter Blunt, Crispinus, Demetrius, Philocalia, Petula, Dicache, all maskt, two and two withlights like mas-
kers: Cæleftine in a chaire.

Ter. All pleafures guard my King; I heere preſent,
My oath vpon the knee of duety: knees
Are made for Kings, they are the ſubieſts Fees.
KING. What Terrill ch'art ill ſuited, ill made vp,
In Sable collours, like a night peeece dyed,
Com't thou the Prologue of a Maske in blacke;
Thy body is ill ſhapt; a Bride-groome too ?
Looke how the day is dreſt in Siluer cloth,
Laide round about with golden Sunne-beames: so
(As white as heauen) ſhould a fresh Bride-groome goe.
What? Cæleftine the Bride, in the ſame taske?
Nay then I see ther's miftery in this maske.
Prethee refoluе me Wat?

Ter. My gracious Lord,
That part is hers, ſhe actes it; onely I
Preſent the Prologue, ſhe the mifterie,

King. Come

the Humerous Poet.

Kin. Come Bride, the Sceane of blushing entred first,
Your checkes are fetled now, and past the worſt; Unmasks her
A miftery: oh none plaies heere but death,
This is deaths motion; motionles? ſpeake you,
Flatter no longer; thou her Bride-groome; thou
Her Father ſpeake.

Sir quint. Dead.

Ter. Dead.

Kin. How?

Sir quin. Poyſon'd.

King. And poyſon'd?

What villaine durſt blaſpheme her beauties, or
Prophane the cleare religion of her eyes?

Ter. Now King I enter, now the Sceane is mine,
My tongue is tipt with poſon; know who ſpeakes,
And looke into my thoughts; I bluſh not King,
To call thee Tyrant: death hath fet my face,
And made my bloud bolde; heare me ſpirits of men,
And place your eares vpon your hearts; the day
(The fellow to this night) ſaw her and me,
Shake hands together: for the booke of heauen,
Made vs eternall friends: thus, Man and Wife,
This man of men (the King) what are not kings?
Was my chieſe gueſt, my roſall gueſt, his Grace
Grac'd all the Table, and did well become
The vpper end, where fate my Bride: in briefe,
Hetaunted her chaſte eares; ſhe yet vnknowne,
His breath was treaſon, tho his words were none.

Treaſon to her and me, he dar'd me then,
(Vnder the couert of a flattering ſmile.)
To bring her where ſhe is not as ſhe is,
Aliue for luſt, not dead for (Chaſtity:
The reſolution of my ſoule, out-dar'd.)
I ſwore and taxt my faith with a ſad oath;

L

Which

The vntrusting of

Which I maintaine, heere take her, she was mine,
When she was luing, but now dead, she's thine.

Kin. Doe not confound me quite; for mine owne guilts,
Speakes more within me then thy tongue containes;
Thy sorrow is my ſhame: yet heere in ſprings,
Ioy out of sorrow, boldnes ont of ſhame;
For I by this haue found, once in my life,
A faithfull ſubiect, thou a conſtant wife,

(al. A conſtant wife.

Kin. Am I confounded twice?

Blafed with wonder.

Ter. O delude we not,
Thou art too true to liue agen, too faire
To be my Cælefline, too conſtant farre
To be a woman.

Cal. Not to be thy wife,
But firſt I pleade my duetic, and ſalute
The world agen.

Sir quin, My King, my Sonne, know all,
I am an Actor in this mifterie,

And beare the chieſeſt part. The Father I,
Twas I that miniftr'd to her chafte bloud,
A true ſomniferous potion, which did ſteale

Her thoughts to ſleepe, and flattered her with death:
I cal'd it a quick poſſion' drug, to trie

The Bride-groomes loue, and the Brides conſtancie.

He in the poſſion of his loue did fight,
A combat with affection; ſo did both,

She for the poſſon ſtroue, he for his oath:
Thus like a happie Father, I haue won,

A conſtant Daughter, and a louing Sonne.

Kin. Mirrour of Maidens, wonder of thy name,
I giue thee that art giuen, pure, chafte, the fame,

Heere Wat: I would not part (for the worlds pride)

So

the Humorous Poet.

Sotru'e a Bride-groome, and ſo chafte a Bride.

Cri. My Leige, to wed a Comical euent,
To prefuppoſed tragicke Argument:

Vouchſaſe to exerciſe your ey es, and ſee
A humorous dreadfull Poet take degree.

Kin. Dreadfull in his proportion or his pen?

Cris. In both, he calles himselfe the whip of men.

Kin. If a cleare merrit stand vpon his praeſe,

Reach him a Poets Crowne (the honour'd Bayes)

But if he claime it, wanting right thereto,
(As many baſtard Sonnes of Poefie doe)

Race downe his vſurpation to the ground.

A true Poets are with Arte and Nature Crown'd.

But in what molde ſo ere this man bee caſt;
We make him thine Crispinus, wit and iudgement,

Shine in thy numbers, and thy ſoule I know,
Willing goe arm'd in poſſion gainſt thy foe:

Therefore be thou our ſelfe; whileſt our ſelfe ſit,

But as ſpectator of this Sceane of wit.

Cri. Thanke your Lord, for theſe high honors done,
To me vnworthie, my mindes brighteſt ſires
Shall all consume themſelues, in pureſt flame,

On the Alter of your cleare eternall name.

Kin. Not vnder vs, but next vs take thy Scate,

» Arts noſtirſhed by Kings make Kings more great,

Vſe thy Authority.

(cris. Demetrius.

Call in that ſelfe, creating Horace, bring

Him and his ſhaddow ſoorth,

Dem. Both ſhall appeare,

» No black-cyed ſtar must ſtick in vertues Spheare.

Enter Sir Vaughan.

Sir Va. Ounds did you ſee him, I pray let all his Maſeſt ies moſt

L 2

The vntrusting of

most excellent dogs, be set at liberties, and hauetheir freedoms
to smell him out.

Dem. Smell whom?

Sir Vaugh. Whom? the Compofer, the Prince of Poets, Horace, Horace, he's departed: in Gods name and the Kinges I farge you to ring it out from all our eares, for Horaces bodie is departed: Mafter hue and crie shall God bleffe King Williams, I crye you mercy and aske forgiuenes, for mine eyes did not finde in their hearts to looke vppon your Maſeltie.

Kin. What news with thee Sir Vaughan?

Sir Vau. Newes? God tis as vſe newes as I can desire to
bring about mee: our vnhanſome-fac'd Poet does play at
bo-peepes with your Grace, and cryes all-hidde as boyes
doe.

Officers, Stand by, roome there, backe, roome for the
Poet.

Sir Va. He's reprehended and taken, by Sefu I reioyce ve-
ry neere as much as if I had discouer'd a New-found Land, or
the North and Eaſt Indies,

Enter Tucca, his boy after him with two pictures under his cloake,
and a wreath of nettles: Horace and Bubo put'd in by the hornes
bound both like Satyres, Sir Adam following, Mistris

Minuier with him, wearing Tuccaes
chaigne,

Tuc. So,tug,tug,pull the mad Bull in by't hornes: So,
baite one at that flake my place-mouth yelpers, and one at
that flake Gurnets-head.

King. What bufſe fellow's this?

Tuc. Saue thee, my moſt gracious King a Harts ſaue thee,
all hats and caps are thine, and therefore I vaile; for but to thee
great Sultane Soliman, I ſcorne to be thus put off or to deliuer vp
this

the Humerous Poet.

this ſconce I wud.

Kin. Sir Vaughan, what's this iolly Captaines name?

Sr Vt. Has a vety ſufficient name, and is a man has don
God and his Country as good and as hot Seruice (in conque-
ring this vile Montier-Poet) as euer did S. George his horſe-
backe about the Dragon.

Tue. I ſwear for't, but Tawſoon e, holde thy tongue, Mon
Dieu, if thou't prieſe me, doot behinde my backe: I am my
weighty Soueraigne one of thy graines, thy valiant vassaile;
aske not what I am, but read, turne ouer, vnclapſe thy Chroniodes: there thou ſhalt finde Buffe-Ierkin; there read my
points of war; I am one a thy Mandilian-Leaders; one that
enters into thy royall bands for thee; Pantilus Tucca; one
of thy Kingdomes chiefest quarrellers; one a thy moſt faith-
full---fy---fy---fy---

Sir Vau. Drunknerds I holde my life.

Tue. No wbligig, one of his faithfull fighters; thy drawer
ô royall Tam or Cham.

Sir Vau. Goe too, I pray Captaine Tucca, giue vs all leaue
to doe our busines before the King.

Tue. With all my heart, shi, shi, shi, shake that Beare-whelp
when thou wut.

Sir Van. Horace and Bubo, pray ſend an anſwere into his
Maſelties eares, why you goe thus in Ouids Montier-Morphefis
and ſtrange ſaſhions of apparrell.

Tue. Cur why?

Aſini. My Lords, I was drawne into this beaſily ſuite by
head and ſhoulders onely for loue I bare to my Ningle,

Tue. Speake Ningle, thy mouth's next, belch out, belch,
why ---

Why ---
Hor. I did it to retyr me from the world;

Hor. I did it to retyr me from the world;
And turne my Mus. into a Timonſt,
Loathing the general Leprozie of Sinne,
Which like a ſlague runs through the foules of men:

I did

L 3

The vntruising of

I did it but to —

Tu, But to bite euery Motley-head vice by'th nofe, you
did it Ningle to play the Bug-beare Satyre, & make a Campe
royall offashion-mongers quake at your paper Bullets; you
Naftie Tortois, you and your Itchy Poetry breake out like
Christmas, but once a yeare, and then you keepe a Reuelling,
& Araigning, & a Scratching of mens faces, as thoyou were
Tyber the long-tail'd Prince of Rattes, doe you?

Cri. Horace.

Sir Vaughan. Silence, pray let all vrdes be strangled, or held
faft betweene your teeth.

Cri. Vnder controule of my dread Soueraigne,
We are thy Iudges; thou that didst Arraigne,
Art now prepar'd for condemnation;
Should I but bid thy Muse st. and to the Barne,
Thy selfe againft her wouldst giue evidence:

For flat rebellion gainst the Sacred lawes,
Of diuine Poefie: heerein moft she miſt,

Thy pride and ſcorne made her turne Satrifter,

And not her loue to vertue (as thou Preachet)

Or should we minister strong pilles to thee:
What lumpes of hard and indigested ſtuffe,

Of bitter Satiety of Arrogance,

Of Seliſe-lone, of Detraction, of a blacke

And flinging Insolence should we fetch vp?

But none of these, we giue thee what's more fit,

With flinging nettles Crowne his flinging wit.

Tue. Wel said my Poeticall huckster, now he's in thy hand-
ling rate him, doe rate him well.

I Hor. O I beſecch your Maiety, rather then thus to be net-
ed, Ile ha my Satyres coate pull'd ouer mine cares, and bee
turn'd out a the nine Mufes Service.

Alm. And I too, let meee be put to my chiftings with myne
Ningle.

Sir Vaughan. By

the Humorous Poet.

Sir Vau. By Sefu so, you shall M. Bubo; flea off this hairie
skin M. Horace, so, so, vntruffe, vntruffe.

Tue. His Poeticall wreath my dapper puncke-fetcher.

Hor. Ooh —

Tu. Nay your oohs, nor your Callin-oes cannot ferue your
turne; your tongue you know is full of blifters with rayling,
your face full of pockey-holes and pimples, with your ſie-
rie inuent ons: and therefore to preferue your head from
aking, this Biggin is yours: — nay by Sefu you shall
bee a Poet, though not Lawrefyed, yet Nettled, ed,
so:

Tue. Sitra flincker, thou'rt but vntruff'd now, I owe
thce a whipping full, and Ile pay it: I haue layde roddes
in Piffe and Vineger for thce: It shall not bee the
Whipping of Satyre, nor the Whipping of the blinde-
Beare, but of a counterfeit Lugler, that ſteales the name of
Horace.

Kin. How? counterfeit? does hee vſurpe that name?

Sir Vau. Yes indeede ant pleafe your Grace, he does ſup
vp that abhominable name.

Tue. Hee does O King Cambifes, hee does: thou haſt
no part of Horace in thce, but's name, and his damnable
vices: thou haſt such a terrible mouth, that thy beard's
afraide to peepe out: but, looke heere you flaring Leuia-
than, heere's the sweete viſage of Horace; looke per-
boynde-face, looke; Horace had a trim long-beard, and a
reasonable good face for a Poet, (as faces goe now-a-dayes)
Horace did not skrue and wriggle himſelfe into great
Mens fami-liarity, (impudentlie) as thou doſt: nor weare
the Badge of Gentlemen company, as thou dooft thy
Taffetie fleeces tackt too only with some pointes of pre-
ſit: No, Horace had not his face puncht full of Oylet-holes,
like the couer of a warming-pan: Horace lou'd Poets well,
and gaue Coxcombes to none, but fooles; but thou lou'nt
none,

The vntruising of

none, neither Wifemen nor fooles, but thy selfe: Horace was
a goodly Corpulent Gentleman, and not so leane a hol-
low-cheekt Scrag as thou art: No, heere's thee Coppy of
thy countenance, by this will I learne to make a number of
villanous faces more, and to looke scurily vpon't world, as
thou doft.

Cr. Sir Vaughan will you minifter their oath?

Sir Vau. Master Afinius Bubo, you shall fweare as little
as you can, one oath shall damme vp your Innocent
mouth.

Crif. Any oath Sir, Ile fweare any thing.

Sir Vau. You shall fweare by Phæbus (who is your Pots good Lord and Master,) that heere-after you will not hyre Horace, to giue you poefies for rings, or hand-kerchers, or kniues which you vnderland not, nor to write your Loue-letters; which you (in turning of a hand) fet your marks vp-on, as your owne: nor you shall not carry Lattin Poets about you, till you can write and read English at moft; and lattlye that you shall not call Horace your Ningle.

Crif. By Phæbus I fweare all this, and as many oathes as
you will, so I may trudge.

Sir Vau. Trudge then, pay your legs for Fees, and bee dif-
sarg'd.

Tuc. Tprooth --- runne Red-cap, ware hornes there,

Exit Aſi.

Sir Vau. Now Master Horace, you muſt be a more horrible
ſweare for your oath muſt be (like your wittes) of many col-
lours; and like a Brokers booke of many parcels.

Tuc. Read, read, th' inuentory of his oath.

Hor. Ile ſweare till my haire flands vpan end, to bee rid of
this fling, oh this fling!

Sir Vau. Tis not your ſting of confidence, is it?

Tuc. Vpon him: Inprimis,

Sir Vaugh. Inprimis, you shall fweare by Phæbus and the
halse

the Humerous Poet.

halſe a ſcore Mufes lacking one: not to ſweare to hang your
ſelfe, if you thought any Man, Ooman or Silde, could write
Playes and Rimes, as well-fauour'd ones as your ſelfe.

Tuc. Well fayd, haſt brought him toth gallowes al-
ready?

Sir Vaugh. You shall ſweare not to bumbaſt out a new
Play, with the oldelynings of Ieftes, ſtolne from the Tem-
ples Reuels.

Tuc. To him olde Tango.

Sir Vau. Moreouer, you ſhall not fit in a Gallery, when
your Comedies and Enterludes haue entred their Actions,
and there make vile and bad faces at euere lyne, to make
Sentlemen haue an eye to you, and to make Players afraide to
take your part.

Tuc. Thou ſhalt be my Ningle for this,

Sir Vau. Befides, you muſt for ſweare to venter on the ſlage,
when your Play is ended, and to exchange curtezies, and
complements with Gallants in the Lordes roomes, to make
all the house rife vp in Armes, and to cry that's Horace, that's
he, that's he, that's he, that pennes and purges Humours and
difeſes.

Tuc. There boy, agen.

Sir Vau. Secondly, when you bid all your friends to the
marriage of a poore couple, that is to ſay: your Wits and
necessities, alias dictus, to the riling of your Muse: alias, your
Mufes vp-sitting: alias a Poets Whifon-Ale; you shall ſweare
that withm three dayes after, you shall not abroad, in
Booke-binders shops, brag that your Vizc-royes or Tit-
butorie-Kings, haue done homage to you, or paide quar-
terage.

Tuc. Ile buffet thy head Holofernes.

Sir Vaugh. Moreouer and Inprimis, when a Knight or
Sentle-

M

The vntruising of

Semlemen of vrthip, does giue you his paffe-port, to tra-
uaile in and out to his Company, and giues you money for
Gods fake ; I truft in Sefu, you will fweare (tooth and
nayle) not to make ſcalde and wry-mouth Ieſtes vpon his
Knight-hood, wlll you not?

Hor. I never did it by Parnaſſus.

Tuc. Wut ſweare by Parnaſſus and lyetoo, Doctor Dod-
dipol.

Sir Va. Thirdly, and laſt of all ſauing one, when your Playes are inſſe-likt at Court, you ſhall not crye Mew like a Puffe-cat, and ſay you are glad you write out of the Courtiers Element.

Tuc. Let the Element alone, tis out a thy reach.

Sir Vau. In brieflynes, when you Sup in Tauernes, a-
mongſt your betters, you ſhall ſweare not to dippe your
Manners in too much ſawce, nor at Table to fling Epi-
grams, Embleames, or Playſpeeches about you (lyke
Hayle-stones) to keepe you out of the terrible daunger of
the Shot, vpon payne to ſit at the vpper ende of the
Table, a'th left hand of Carlo Buffon: ſweare all this, by A-
pollo and the eight or nine Muſes.

Hor. By Apollo, Helicon, the Muſes ( who march three
and three in a rancke) and by all that belongs to Pernaſſus,
I ſweare all this,

Tuc. Beare witnes.

Crif. That fearefull wreath, this honour is your due,

All Poets shall be Poet-Apes but you;

Thankes (Learnings true Mecænas, Poesies kiing)

Thankes for that gracious eare, which you haue lent,
To this moſt tedious, moſt rude argument.

Kin. Our ſpirits haue well been feaſted; he whose pen
Drawes both corrupt, and cleare bloud from all men:

(Careles.

the Humerous Poet.

(Careles what veine he prickes) let him not raue,

When his owne ſides are strucke, blowe, blowe, doe craue.

Tuc. Kings-truce, my noble Hearbe-a-grace; my Prince-
ly ſweet-William, a boone Stay firſt, Iſt a match or no
match, Lady Furniuall Iſt?

Sir Ad. & Sir quint. A match?

Mini. I am a match, ſince he hath hit the Miftris so often i'th
fore-game, we'll eene play out a rubbers,

Sir Ada Take her for me,

Sir quin. Take her for thy ſelfe, not for me.

Sir Vau. Play out your rubbers in Gods name, by Sefu. He neuer boule more in your Alley, Iddow.

Sir Quint. My Chaine.

Sir Adams My Purſe.

Tuc. Ile Chaine thee prefently, and giue thee ten pound
and a purſe: a boone my Leige: daunce ô my delicate
Rufus, at my wedding with this reuerend Antiquary; iſt done?
wut thou:

Kin. Ile giue thee Kingly honour: Night and Sleepe,
With ſilken Ribands would tye vp our eyes,
But Miftris Bride, one meaſure ſhall be led,
In ſcome of Mid-nights haſt, and then to bed.

Exennt.

M 2

Epilogus:

Epilogus:

Tucca. Gentlemen, Gallants, and you my little
Swaggerers that fight lowe: my tough
hearts of Oake that stand too't, so valiantly, and are
still within a yard of your Capten: Now the Trum
pets (that let men together by the eares) haue left
their Tantara=rag-boy, let's part friends. I recant,
beare witnes all you Gentlefolkes (that walke i'th
Galleries) I recant the opinions which I helde of
Courtiers, Ladies, & Citizens, when once (in an af-
fembly of Friers) I railde vpon them: that Hereticall
Libertune Horace, tanght me so to mouth it. Befides,
twas when stiffe Tucca was a boy: twas not Tucca
that railde and roar'd the n, but the Deuill & his An-
gels: But now, Kings-truce, the Capten Summons a
parlee, and deliuers himselve and his prating compa-
ny into your hands, vpon what compofition you wil
Are you pleaf'd? and Ile dance Frisk in for ioy, but if
you be not, by'th Lord Ile see you all — heere for
your two pence a peice agen, before Ile loofe your
company. I know now some be come hyther with
cheekes fwolne as big with hiffes, as if they had the
tooth-ach: yds-foote, if I stood by them, Ide bee so
bold as — intreate them to hiffle in another place.
Are you aduiz'd what you doe when you hiffle? you
blowe away Horaces reuenge: but if you let your
hands

Epilogue.

hands and Seales to this, Horace will write againft it,
and you may haue more sport: he shall not loofe his
labour, he shall not turne his blanke verſes into walt
paper: No, my Poetafters will not laugh at him, but
will vntruffe him agen, and agen, and agen. Ile tell
you what you shall doe, caſt your little Tucca into
a Bell: doe, make a Bell of me, and be al you my clapa-
pers, vpon condition, wee may haue a luſtie peale,
this colde weather: I haue but two legs left me,
and they are both yours: Good night
my two penny Tenants
God night.

F I N I S.